Once Upon a Halloween by Richard Laymon Page A

soft grass, scratchy twigs and rocks, dry things and moist things. It only lasted a second, though, before her right arm, right hip, right breast lifted off the ground. For a moment, her left breast, left ribs, left thigh and hip took all the weight. Then her left arm was pinned to the ground. Then the rolling swept her upward. She was once again on her back, facing the sky. Here and there, things were clinging to her. Leaves, she supposed.
        Nothing worse than leaves, she hoped.
        The rolling, not stopping, tipped her sideways and swung her down, driving her right arm against the ground, mashing her flat, rolling her up to the left and again to the top where she took a deep breath and glimpsed the moon behind the blowing limbs before rolling onto her side and down again.
        It's working, she thought.
        It's demolishing me, but its working.
        When she was on the bottom, the crushing wasn't the worst par!. The worst part was not knowing what might be in the grass with her.
        Worms, snails, spiders? Was she mashing them, bringing up their smeared bodies along with the leaves on her skin?
        Then she remembered coming here on a warm evening last summer to work on a painting she'd called, "Twilight in the Garden of the Dead," and how she'd watched a stray dog digging furiously with its forepaws, snuffling at the ground, digging some more, then shoving its muzzle into the shallow hole, coming up with a bone in its mouth and trotting off, head high, tail wagging.
         Am I rolling over old bones?
        

CHAPTER TWENTY
        
        Hunter heard quick, heavy footfalls on the stairs. "She's gone," Charles called.
        "Let's get this guy inside," Tony said and climbed off.
        A moment later, both Hunter's arms were grabbed and he was hoisted to his feet and hauled backward off the porch, through the doorway and into the house. In the foyer, they let go and he fell. His rump pounded the floor. His back hit the edges of the two bottom stairs and his head bumped the third.
        "Go out and get his sword," Tony said.
        Charles hurried outside.
        Tony pointed a finger at Hunter's face. "Don't move a muscle or you're dead."
        "I didn't... do anything."
        Charles returned with the sword. As the screen door banged shut, he closed the main door.
        Tony glanced back at him. "What did you find upstairs?"
        "No sign of Laura. There's broken stuff in her art room." Rage suddenly twisting his face, Charles raised the sword and lurched toward Hunter. "What did you do with her, you fucking bastard!"
        Hunter cringed and flung his arms up t o protect his head. "I didn't touch her! I didn't touch either of them."
        "The flick you didn't!"
        "Please!" Hunter shouted. "I'm on your side! Somebody else took Laura!" He looked at Tony and cried out, "Shannon, too. That wasn't Shannon in the sheet! I tried to tell you!" He jerked his eyes toward Charles. "Put that down! I didn't do anything! They've got my girlfriend, too!"
        Tony lifted a hand, signaling Charles to hold off with the sword. "They've got who?"
        "My girlfriend. Connie Harris."
        Something changed in Charles's eyes. "You know Connie Harris?"
        "We... we sorta go together."
        Tony glanced at Charles. "You know her?"
        Charles asked Hunter, "Margaret's sister?"
        Hunter nodded. "We were over at the graveyard and... this bunch of weirdos showed up and chased us. That's how I ended up here. Laura let me in."
        Charles slowly lowered the sword.
        "They were both trying to help me," Hunter said. "Laura and Shannon. I told 'em everything, and they were gonna call the cops but then we got jumped by these... the three that chased me in the graveyard. I got away and ran upstairs, but one came after me. Eleanor. That was her in the sheet." He stared into Tony's eyes. "Eleanor. The one you were kissing and