Free Allhallow's Eve: (Richard Laymon Horror Classic) by Richard Laymon Page A

she moaned. ‘And ghosties, and long-leggity beasties …’
    ‘Oh, cut it out.’
    ‘Tomorrow’s Halloween. Maybe they’re out early, this year, and came creeping and crawling out of their graves, looking for little boys.’
    ‘ Mom .’
    ‘They get lonesome in their graves and crypts. On Halloween, they like to crawl out and creep around, and grab little boys to take back with them – to keep them company.’
    ‘That’s disgusting.’
    ‘They like cynical little boys the best.’
    ‘Yeah?’
    ‘’Cause they make such good conversation.’
    ‘Sometimes I think you’re cracked.’
    ‘Woooooo.’
    ‘Cut it out, would you?’
    ‘ Woooooooo! ’ Slowly, arms out, she stood up and stepped toward Joe. ‘ Wooooooooo . Time to come with me to the grave. It’s so cold and lonely down there.’
    ‘Mom!’
    She grinned at the tremor in his voice. ‘And I get so hungry , down there.’ She lunged at him.
    Joe squealed and rolled out of her reach. ‘Stop that!’ he snapped, crawling across the carpet.
    ‘You can’t get away from me.’ She lumbered toward him.
    ‘Would you stop ! I’m not amused.’
    Lynn dropped her arms. ‘Party pooper.’ She returned to the couch, and flopped down. ‘Must not’ve been a fuse,’ she said. ‘They’d have things fixed, by now.’
    ‘Great.’
    If the power isn’t on by bedtime, she thought, she’d have to dig out the travel clock. Where had she stored it? She concentrated, and remembered leaving it in her suitcase so she wouldn’t have trouble finding it, next time they took a trip. The suitcase was in the garage. Lovely.
    ‘Jeez,’ Joe said. ‘The show’s probably over, by now.’
    ‘Well, those are the …’
    The lights and television blinked on.
    ‘There!’
    ‘See what I told you?’ Joe asked. The show’s theme was playing as its credits rolled up the screen.
    ‘Well, it’s too bad. Could be worse, though.’
    ‘I doubt it.’
    ‘Why don’t you go upstairs and get your p.j.’s on.’
    ‘Mom!’
    ‘It’s nine o’clock.’
    ‘It isn’t fair.’
    ‘You scoot upstairs and get ready for bed, then you can come down and watch TV until Mike’s ready.’
    ‘All right !’ He scurried to his feet, and ran from the room. Lynn heard his footsteps pounding on the stairs.
    The air in the den felt chilly. She pressed her legs together, and wrapped her red robe more tightly around herself.
    Hank must’ve opened the back door, for some reason.
    She folded her arms. Their warm pressure felt good on her taut nipples. She rubbed her legs against each other. Their skin was pebbled and achy with goose-bumps.
    Had he left the door open?
    She got up from the couch, and stepped out of the den. She walked down a dark hallway toward the kitchen. The swinging door was shut. A band of light showed beneath it.
    Hank and Mike were sure taking their time. Maybe they’d decided to polish off the angel food cake.
    Pushing open the door, she stepped into the kitchen.Her bare foot splashed into blood. It slipped and shot forward. She fell back, grabbing the waste basket. It tumbled onto her, throwing coffee grounds and chicken bones on her robe. The door swung against her shoulder. Shoving it away, gasping, she sat up. The floor was puddled with blood, the oven door dripping.
    ‘Hank!’ she cried.
    She struggled to her feet. She stepped past the refrigerator. Looking toward the alcove at the far end of the kitchen, she saw Hank sitting upright at the breakfast table. Mike lay on the table, shirt open, a knife and fork protruding from his belly.
    ‘ Hank? ’ she gasped.
    She saw Hank’s arm on the floor near his feet. Her mouth jerked open to scream. A hand covered it – a slippery hand that stank of blood. It yanked her backwards against a panting body. Another hand swung around from the side, plunging a carving fork toward her belly. She brought up her arms. The long tines jabbed into her forearm. Pain blasted through her.
    Twisting, she kicked up her legs. The