Friday the 13th 3 - Page 16

“Shit!” she said, realizing how close she’d come to landing right on top of the nasty-looking thing. She’d have to be more careful. You never knew what could happen to you in a dark old place like this, she thought.

She glanced up at the loft, wondering what was up there. Maybe she’d find something

else that she could liberate. She took hold of the wooden ladder that extended vertically straight up to a trapdoor in the loft, and started to climb up.

Behind her, a large shadow fell across the barn floor as a massive figure came in quietly through the open door and softly pulled it shut behind him.

Ali finished the first gas can and quickly transferred the siphon hose to the mouth of the second can, losing only a few drops in the process. He shoved the hose down inside, then capped the first can and handed it to Loco.

“Here, take this into the barn and start pouring,” he said. “And find Fox!”

That was all he needed now, having his lady wandering off. She was probably screwin’ around down by the lake, he thought, wading around the shore or something, and here they were getting ready to torch the damn place. He wanted her where he could keep an eye on her. They’d have to hit these turkeys hard and then split fast. He didn’t want anyone to be able to identify them, assuming Loco left anyone alive to do it. He was in a real state. Maybe a nice big bonfire would mellow him out, but if not, there wasn’t going to be any talking him out of this one. And, bottom line, Ali didn’t really feel like it. The hell with ’em. These kids had called the shots when they ran over their scooters. The sons of bitches were going to get wasted, and he wasn’t going to cry about it.

Loco walked over to the barn, carrying the heavy gas can and looking all around, keeping an eye out for anyone who might give an alarm. He got over to the barn doors and set the gas can down. He was about to reach out and open up the door when a sudden shriek coming from overhead startled him, making him reach for the large folding knife in his belt sheath.

Fox came swinging out like a jungle queen on the hoist through the open square window doors of the hayloft, laughing and yelling like a kid.

“Whoooo-weee!” she cried, with childlike delight.

Loco stared up at her in disbelief. “What the hell are you doin’?” he said, glancing over his shoulder quickly to see if anyone had heard her. “Are you crazy? Get off that thing!”

She disappeared from view, swinging back through the hayloft door, and a moment later she came swinging out again like a little girl in a playground on a set of swings.

“This feels so goooooooooooood!” she yelled, giggling like a child.

Loco simply stared at her. He couldn’t believe it. What did the silly bitch think they were doing here, playing games for chrissake? He glanced back over his shoulder, looking in Ali’s direction. The van was out of sight, around a bend in the driveway, behind a large oak tree. He shook his head. If Ali saw this, he’d lose it for damn sure.

“Ali’s gonna be pissed if you don’t stop this screwin’ around!” he called up to her. “We got shit to do!”

The hoist came swinging out by itself, with no sign of Fox.

Loco waited for a moment, staring up at the hayloft, but Fox didn’t reappear. He scowled and went into the barn.

“Fox!” he called, getting really irritated. He wanted to get on with it; he didn’t feel like wasting time playing nursemaid to Ali’s old lady. “Where are ya?”

The cigarette dangled from his mouth. I oughta just dump the goddamn gas out and toss the butt down and be done with it, he thought. Let the stupid bitch find her own way out. Serve her right if she got burned. He ground his teeth together. No, then he’d have to deal with Ali. Where’s Fox? he imagined Ali saying. Oh, she’s back in the barn, man. Oughta be nice and crispy by now. No, he didn’t guess Ali would go for that. Shit. He’d better get her and bring her the hell out.

“Stop screwin’ around!” he yelled up at the loft. “You’re messin’ everything up!”

There was no response.

“Shit,” he said savagely, staring up the ladder to the hayloft. He’d had it with her. He didn’t care if she was Ali’s old lady or not, he was going to grab her by the goddamn throat and toss her right out that big square window up there. “You’re dead now, woman!” he shouted.

He came up through the opening in the floor and stepped off the ladder onto the floorboards.

“Fox!”

He turned around . . . his jaw dropped and his eyes opened wide with shock at the sight of Fox dangling in the air, pinned to a crossbeam, impaled through the throat by the long tines of a pitchfork like a butterfly pinned to a board. Her eyes were ghastly, wide open, frozen into a stare of utter horror. Blood trickled down her leathers and dripped down onto the floor of the loft, soaking into the straw.

Loco panicked and turned to run.

The second pitchfork was driven deep into his stomach with a dull, wet, smacking sound; the long, sharp tines ripped through his entrails, penetrating deeply, going straight through him and coming out his back. Blood bubbled up into his throat as he opened his mouth to scream, and his hands clutched helplessly at the wooden shaft of the pitchfork, his horrified gaze fixed on his attacker. He staggered forward one step, and then his legs turned to rubber and collapsed beneath him. There was a brief period of the most incredible, agonizing pain he had ever experienced in his entire life, and then everything started spinning and he was falling as fire exploded in his mind and the whole world started burning.

Ali came hurrying up to the barn doors, carrying a heavy can of gasoline in each hand. He scowled at the sight of the closed doors and kicked at them, looking around to see if anyone had heard him. He waited for either Fox or Loco to let him in, but no one came. Angrily, he kicked the door again.

“Loco! Fox! Open, this damn door!”

There was no response from inside. Ali gritted his teeth and set the gas cans down, then pushed the door open himself. He picked up the cans and went inside, setting them down once again and looking all around the interior of the barn. They were nowhere in sight. He heard the sound of heavy footsteps up in the hayloft and looked up.

Tags: Simon Hawke Horror
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