The Third Horror Page 8

  “It feels as if it’s pushing me back,” Rob called from behind her. “As if it’s deliberately trying to keep me from the window.”

  “Keep going,” Kody urged breathlessly. “Keep pushing.”

  “I—I don’t think I can make it,” he cried weakly. “I—I’m going to drown in this stuff.”

  “No!” She turned her head. “We’re moving, Rob. We’re almost there. Keep going. Don’t give up.”

  “The smell—” he moaned. “I—feel—really . . .” His voice trailed off.

  “Only a few more feet,” Kody murmured. “A few more feet.” She thrust her body forward, her arms outstretched.

  The thick liquid swept against her, pushing her back, wave after hot wave.

  But she kept her legs moving, kept pushing, pushing, pushing—

  Until her outstretched palms pressed against the glass of the windowpane.

  “Yes!” she cried triumphantly. “We’re going to get out now, Rob! Hurry! We’re going to get out!”

  Her hands slid over the glass. She placed them on the window frame and pushed.

  The window didn’t budge.

  She pushed harder.

  Her feet slid out from under her. The hot green liquid splashed against her chest.

  Regaining her balance, Kody checked the lock on top of the lower sash. Not locked.

  She pushed up against the frame.

  The window didn’t budge. “It’s stuck too,” she managed to choke out.

  She banged both fists furiously against the glass. “Let us out! Let us out!” she cried in shrill terror.

  The hot, churning liquid had climbed over her waist.

  With a desperate burst of strength, she turned to the left. Reached out. Grabbed a light tower, a slender metal frame that held two large lights.

  Nearly losing her balance again, nearly slipping headfirst into the goo, she managed to raise the light tower into the air.

  Holding it shakily over her head with both hands, she slammed it hard against the window glass.

  The windowpane cracked. A spiderweb of cracks spread over the glass. And then the glass dropped out onto the roof.

  “Yes!” Kody cried happily, knocking the jagged shards out too.

  Tossing the light tower behind her, she raised both hands to the windowsill. It took all of her remaining strength to lift herself out of the thick liquid.

  Pulling until her knees rose to the sill, she half fell, half dived onto the flat shingle roof.

  “Rob!” she called. “Hurry, Rob! We’re out! We’re okay!”

  When he didn’t reply, Kody felt dread tighten in the pit of her stomach. “Rob?” she called, her chest aching as she struggled to catch her breath.

  “Rob?”

  Sliding over the shingles, she crawled back to the window. Pressing both hands on the sill, she peered into the attic room.

  “Nooooooo!” A horrified wail burst from deep inside her. “Rob—nooooooooo!”

  Chapter 22

  As the howls escaped her throat, Kody peered in at Rob. He floated lifelessly on the surface of the tossing liquid, his face buried in the goo, his arms sprawled straight out.

  He was inches from the window. Inches from escape.

  He probably tried to swim, Kody realized, and the disgusting liquid held him under.

  “Rob? Rob?” She called to him without realizing it, unable to hear her voice over the pounding of her heart, over the pain of her thoughts.

  And then, without thinking about it, in a blur of action Kody climbed onto the windowsill, lowered herself to her knees, took a deep breath—and leaned over the thick, swirling broth.

  Stretched out both hands. Stretched them farther, leaning in as far as she could. Reached. Reached.

  Grabbed Rob by the hair. And tugged his face out of the goo.

  Are you still breathing? she wondered.

  Please, Rob. Please be breathing. Please!

  She had no choice. She had to lower herself back into the hot goo. Wrapping her hands under Rob’s armpits, she swung him onto his back. The green slime clung to his face, to his clothes, to his hair.

  Grabbing the windowsill with her left hand, she pulled Rob over the surface of the goo with her right.

  I can’t lift him out. But maybe I can slide him, she thought.

  Please, Rob. Please be breathing.

  She had to let go of him to hoist herself out of the deep liquid and back onto the windowsill. Then she turned back, bent to grab him with both hands. Tugged. Tugged until it felt as if her chest were about to burst.

  She toppled backward as his body came sliding out onto the flat roof. She landed hard on her side, but ignored the pain and quickly scrambled back to him.

  Please breathe. Please.

  He lay sprawled on his back, his eyes shut, his body still.

  Please. Please!

  Kody pounded hard on his chest.

  Please breathe. Please breathe.

  She gasped in one deep breath after another. But her chest continued to ache.

  Leaning over Rob, she frantically wiped green clots from around his mouth. Then she lowered her mouth to his and began giving him mouth-to-mouth.

  “Ohhh.” She let out a low moan as she tasted the sour green goo. It felt gritty against her lips. It tasted like rancid buttermilk.

  But she lowered her mouth once again to his.

  And breathed, pushing her breath into him, trying to ignore the sour taste.

  Breathe.

  Breathe.

  Rob groaned.

  Yes!

  Breathe. Breathe.

  He groaned again and blinked his eyes. Kody raised her head, wiping a green clot from her chin.

  Yes. Rob was breathing on his own now. Breathing noisily. But breathing.

  Shutting her eyes, Kody said a silent prayer of thanks.

  Then she turned away from Rob and started to vomit.

  • • •

  The next afternoon Bo furiously paced back and forth in the living room, talking in a high, excited voice. Kody shrank back on the couch against the wall. Why does he keep glaring at me like that? she wondered. As if what happened was my fault?

  “I don’t see how we can continue. This is a farce, Bo,” Persia was saying from the other couch. One of her assistants brought her a Diet Coke in a tall glass.

  “This movie will be made. We have to continue,” Bo replied heatedly. “And fast.”

  He continued to pace, swinging the clipboard in one hand as he walked. “If I know Rob’s father, he’ll have the place swarming with lawyers in no time. He’ll sue us for every penny the production has. He’ll charge negligence—and he’ll win.”

  “How is Rob?” Kody asked from the back of the room. She’d been calling the hospital all morning. But they wouldn’t give her any information.

  “The word from the hospital is that he’s doing pretty well,” Bo replied grimly. “He’s in shock, they say. But he’s going to be okay.”

  “We’re all in shock,” someone murmured.

  “I can still smell that stuff,” someone else said.

  A few people turned to stare at Kody.

  Do they expect me to still be covered in it or something? she wondered unhappily. Why is everyone gawking at me?

  “Anyone see Ernie?” one of the prop crew asked.

  The room fell silent. “Ernie is no longer with us,” Bo replied finally. “I—uh—had no choice. I had to fire him.” He swallowed hard. “Ernie and I were together a long time. But he—he nearly ruined the whole production with that stupid machine of his.”

  The room rumbled with whispers and surprised murmurs.

  It wasn’t Ernie’s fault, Kody realized, crossing her arms over her chest and sinking back into the armchair.

  It wasn’t Ernie’s machine that spewed up that green goo.

  It was the house.

  And as that frightening thought lingered in Kody’s mind, she glanced up and saw a wisp of light at the window.

  T
he light shimmered into a pale white mist. And inside the mist, Kody recognized her sister.

  “Cally!”

  As she called out the name, the light faded. The image vanished.

  Kody blinked.

  “Kody—are you okay?” Bo demanded, hands pressed against the waist of his baggy chinos.

  “Uh—yeah. I guess,” Kody replied uncertainly. Her eyes on the window. She expected to see Cally appear once more. She wanted to see Cally appear.

  “We’re lighting the dining room for tomorrow morning,” Bo told them. “We’ll shoot the attic scene later.” He checked through some pages on the clipboard. Then he gazed at the middle-aged actor sitting beside Persia on the couch. “This will be your first scene, Burt,” he said.

  Kody turned her attention to Burt Martindale, the actor chosen to play her father. He had just been cast and arrived on the set late. Kody had said hello to him. Nothing more.

  He seemed friendly. He had twinkling blue eyes under his thinning blond hair and a warm smile. It bothered Kody that Burt didn’t look at all like her real father. But, she told herself, this was the movies.

  “I hope I have an easier time of it than you!” Burt called across the room to Kody.

  “I hope so,” Kody replied, sighing.

  “Do you know how to swim?” Persia asked Burt dryly.

  “Not funny, Persia,” Bo said sternly. “No jokes. I mean it.” He glanced nervously around the room. “Marge and Noah—where are you?”

  Marge Andersen raised her hand above her head and waved at Bo. She was a frail-looking actress with short blond hair and a fretful expression, chosen to play Kody’s mother.

  Marge was very shy and quiet, Kody had discovered during their rehearsals in Los Angeles. She sat near the window beside Noah Klein, the ten-year-old who played Kody’s brother James.

  “I want to block out the dinner scene with the actors,” Bo announced. “The rest of you have your assignments. We’re going to shoot this first thing tomorrow. And,” he added, saying each word slowly and distinctly, “there will be no slipups or problems. Understood?”

  Murmured agreements and comments filled the air as everyone stood up and moved quickly from the living room.

  Kody didn’t feel at all like reading through the dining room scene. She was eager to find Cally.

  Cally had appeared to her by the window. Cally must want to talk to me, Kody told herself. If only I could go find her.

  But Kody knew she had no choice. She had to rehearse the frightening scene.

  Pulling herself up, she started to follow Bo and the others into the dining room. But Persia stepped in front of her, blocking Kody’s path.

  “Kody, does your hair look a little green from that awful gunk, or is it just the lighting in here?” Persia asked, a cruel smile on her full, dark lips.

  “Persia, I’m really in no mood—” Kody started to say.

  “Yes, you look really tired,” Persia commented. “I just wanted to get your approval of an idea I told to Bo.”

  “An idea?” Kody asked warily.

  “Well, just a seating idea,” Persia replied. “I know we were supposed to be across from each other at the table when Burt stabs himself. But I thought it would be more tense if we sat side by side, and if maybe you and I had some sort of argument about the carving knife.”

  “Huh?” Kody’s face twisted in confusion.

  “You know. To show how competitive we two sisters are,” Persia continued. “Bo loved the idea. Really.”

  “Well, okay—” Kody started to agree.

  “I put myself on your left because that’s my better side,” Persia told her. “Is that okay, Kody? I wasn’t sure which is your better side!”

  What a cruel dig, Kody thought bitterly. Persia really is the meanest person I ever met.

  Without replying, she stepped past Persia and made her way into the dining room. The room was cluttered with equipment. Workers on the lighting and sound crew scrambled over every inch, preparing for the next morning’s shoot.

  Two young women, the prop master and her assistant, were busily setting the table. Kody eased around a boom mike, then started toward Bo and the others at the head of the table.

  But the object lying in the center of the white linen tablecloth made her stop—and stare.

  A large black-handled carving knife. The fat blade gleamed under the harsh overhead lights.

  Kody’s vision blurred. And in the shimmery glow of the knife blade, she saw her real family. Cally and James and her mother and father, sitting around a similar table in this same dining room, two years ago.

  Such a happy scene.

  Their first dinner in this, their new house.

  Mr. Frasier stood to carve the roast beef. Cally got up from her chair and headed for the kitchen. As Cally passed behind him, the knife flew up as if pushed by an unseen hand.

  The family watched in shock as the knife plunged deep into Mr. Frasier’s side.

  The happy dinner ended in cries and panic.

  The horror had begun.

  “I’m going to put you at the head of the table, Burt,” Kody heard Bo saying in the back of her mind. “And, Marge, let’s try to get you within reach of him here on the side.”

  “What about me? I thought I sat closest to the father,” Kody heard Noah say.

  Bo’s reply faded into the background as Kody found herself staring at the gleaming carving knife.

  This knife is just a prop.

  No one is really going to get stabbed this time, Kody told herself.

  So why do I have such a bad feeling, such a cold, cold feeling about this knife?

  Chapter 23

  Kody hid in her trailer, waiting for everyone to leave for the day.

  She spent some time going over the revised pages of the script for the dining room scene. Persia’s idea is really silly, Kody thought. Cally and I weren’t like that. I can’t imagine two teenage girls who are so competitive that they argue over who gets to pass a knife to their father.

  I can’t believe that Bo likes the idea, Kody thought, staring out the trailer window as the sun lowered behind the trees. He says it’s good character development.

  Well—fine.

  Of course I’ll play the scene without making a fuss. I mean, no one asked my opinion anyway. Persia is the pro, after all.

  And what am I? Kody thought unhappily.

  I’m the freak. I’m the real-life freak people can point to in the movie theater and say to each other, “Did you know she’s the real sister?”

  Kody let out a bitter sigh.

  I want to see my real sister, she thought.

  Cally is in the house. I saw her. And tonight I’m going to find her.

  Or maybe she’ll find me.

  Kody tried to phone Rob at the hospital. But the cellular phone in the trailer didn’t seem to be working. She heard a busy signal as soon as she clicked it on.

  Settling onto the couch to wait for the house to empty out, she soon drifted into an uneasy sleep. She dreamed of her parents. She was home with them in Los Angeles. They were all eating doughnuts. Big, sugary doughnuts.

  But the sickening, putrid taste of the green goo invaded Kody’s dream. The doughnuts smelled so rotten, like decayed, maggoty meat. And they tasted even worse.

  Kody woke up gagging.

  She sat up, swallowing hard, shaking her head to chase away the ugly dream.

  The sky was dark, she saw. She must have slept for an hour or two. She peered out the trailer window at the house. Also dark.

  “Cally, I’m going to find you tonight,” she murmured out loud.

  She bent over the mirror and pushed back her blond hair with both hands. Then she quickly rubbed on some clear lip gloss. Her heart pounding, she stepped down from the trailer, closing the door softly behind her.

  A warm breeze made the tall grass rustle as Kody made her way over the lawn to the house. Crickets started a shrill symphony as she reached the front porch.

 
I feel so nervous, Kody realized.

  The nap hadn’t helped to calm her. It had somehow made her even edgier.

  The front door creaked loudly as she pushed it open.

  The old haunted-house special effect, she thought.

  She stepped into the front entryway. A rectangle of light from the living room slid over the carpet. Someone must have left a lamp on.

  Kody stepped into the light and gazed into the living room. Dark metal equipment boxes were stacked in front of the fireplace. Several microphones rested near coils of electrical cable against the far wall.

  Kody turned back into the hallway. Where shall I look first? she asked herself, wishing her heart would stop racing, wishing her hands didn’t feel so cold and wet.

  She took a step toward the kitchen.

  Then she heard the voice, soft as a whisper: “Kody, here I am.”

  “Oh!” Kody uttered a shocked cry and spun around.

  “Are you looking for me?” Cally’s voice. Soft and playful.

  “Y-yes,” Kody stammered. “I—want to see you, Cally. I miss you.”

  “Follow me, Kody.” Cally’s voice moved toward the back hall.

  “I can’t believe it’s really you!” Kody cried, feeling her emotions swell. She didn’t know how much longer she could hold back the tears. “Where are you, Cally? Can I see you? Can I hug you?”

  “Follow me,” Cally repeated. “I’m right here, Kody.”

  In the dim hall light, Kody saw that the door to the basement stood open. Cally’s voice seemed to come from the doorway.

  Kody realized her entire body was trembling with excitement. “Do you want me to come downstairs, Cally? Can’t we talk up here? Can’t I see you now?”

  “Soon,” Cally replied, her voice soft and cool. “Come downstairs with me, Kody. Don’t be afraid.”

  Kody hesitated at the top of the basement stairs.

  What about the rats? What about the explosives?

  “Don’t be afraid,” Cally instructed. “Come down with me, Kody. I’ve waited so long to talk to you.”

  “Me too!” Kody cried. Forgetting her fear, she plunged down the stairs.

  She stopped at the bottom and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. “Where are you, Cally? It’s so dark down here.”

  “This way, Kody. I want to show you a special place.”