All Hallow's Eve (20 page)

Ruth held him close. She closed her eyes. Even though smoke burned as she breathed in, Ruth couldn’t stop smelling her son’s hair. She never wanted to forget the smell. Screw overtime. Screw her job, if it came to that. She never wanted Evan to eat dinner alone again.

“I am all about reunions, but now that we have an exit…” Paxton indicated the hole in the wall.

She smoothed Evan’s hair and kissed him on the head as she answered her partner. “You’re right.” Ruth urged her son up as she turned toward Paxton. “Can you take point?”

“You know it.”

Hugging her son close to her, they got out of the death trap.

* * *

Paxton hauled ass—well, as fast as you
could
haul ass crawling through a tight air duct. He came to a junction. They could go right or left. He looked back at the rest of this ragtag group. They were streaked with soot and blood. Well, Cecilia and Michael had actual blood. The band was streaked with red-dyed corn syrup. How he wished the evening’s deaths were so fake.

They were up to three bodies and counting. Who knew how many dead bodies were going to be cremated in the fire? As the metal under his hands warmed, Paxton knew that they had better find a way out—or be added to that gruesome number.

“Which way?” he called back to Ruth.

She looked at her son. Evan pointed to the left, his voice tinny in the enclosed space. “That way takes us back to the stage.”

Which, of course, was on fire right now, so not a great option.

“What about to the right?” Paxton asked.

The boy frowned. “I’m not sure, but I think that leads to a loading dock.”

“Which means there is probably a door of some sort.” Maybe they caught a bit of luck.

“Then why aren’t you moving?”
Dahmer
whined from behind him.

Damn it, but the singer was right. Paxton made the right-hand corner. Not far down, he thought he saw a light. He turned his flashlight off.

“Hey!”
Dahmer
complained, but Paxton kept it off.

Sure enough, he did see a light not a few yards ahead. A nice, steady emergency light—not the flickering light of flames consuming the room they were headed toward. Could they really outrace the fire?

Turning the flashlight back on, Paxton hurried forward. As he approached the grating, he felt his pant leg tear. No biggie in the grand scheme of things. It wasn’t all that great a suit anyway, and he would sacrifice both trouser legs if it got them out of here.

Paxton reached the grating and surveyed the room beyond. It was really more of a wide hallway. Most importantly, a beautiful Exit sign glowed brightly at the far end of it. He pushed against the metal grate. Unfortunately, it was firmly attached. Using the butt end of the flashlight, Paxton hammered at a corner.

“Warn me next time!”
Dahmer
complained as he covered his ears.

What? Warn you that I am trying to save your stupid life?

Paxton didn’t bother to waste any breath, though. He just kept pounding at the grating. One corner finally gave in. He bent the metal as much as he could, but there was no way anyone was getting through that small a hole. He started on the other corner.

“Not to complain,” Ruth shouted from the back of the group, “But we’re heating up back here.”

Paxton glanced over his shoulder. Ruth was not exaggerating. The air was ruddy, and smoke crept forward in dark, dangerous tendrils. In an enclosed space like this, asphyxiation was much more likely than burning to death. And he really didn’t want to experience either. With renewed vigor, Paxton slammed the butt of the flashlight against the metal.

Plastic shards from the casing flew off. Paxton kept pounding until a loud
pop
sounded as the grating gave way. It clanged against the wall as Paxton hauled himself out of the opening. With not exactly as much skill as Evan, he rolled onto the floor, and then got to his feet.

Dahmer
was already rushing like a crab out of the hole.

Rapidly, the others tumbled after him. He helped Cecilia to her feet, and found that her hand was bloody.

“What happened?” Paxton asked, as Michael crawled out behind her.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “There was something sharp back there.”

Yeah. Paxton’s leg had felt it, too. A little mystery they were not going to have time to solve.

He reached his hand out to help the next person, but no one waited at the opening. Paxton knelt and looked down the duct. Three people were clustered just a few feet down.

“What’s wrong?”

“It looks like Sixtus is stuck on something,” Ruth answered, and then turned to Evan. “Go on. I will catch up.”

But her son frowned, looking ready to cry. “No. I want to—”

“Come on, kid,” Paxton said as he put his hand inside the duct. “You’re just getting in the way.”

Evan looked at his mother, but she nodded. “Go on.”

Once the boy put his mind to it, Evan hustled down the tunnel. Michael helped him out as Paxton got down on his knees to better assess the slowdown. It looked like Sixtus’ belt got caught on something. Ruth was trying her best, but it just wasn’t letting go.

Worse, the entire tunnel was a burnished orange.

“Ruth, get out of there!”

“Don’t leave me!” Sixtus yelled.

“We’re not leaving you, you idiot,” Paxton spat out. “I need her on this side to help me pull you.”

“Oh,” Sixtus said.

Quickly, Ruth climbed over the guitarist. Paxton took her hands and pulled her toward him. For the briefest second, their faces were only inches apart. Her cheeks were flushed with heat, and tiny locks of hair were plastered against her face. Ruth was the least put together he had ever seen her, yet she had never looked so lovely.

“Thanks,” Ruth breathed out, and then she pulled away. Louder, she called to Sixtus. “Undo your belt.”

Oh, yeah, they still had band members to rescue.

Crammed side by side, Ruth and Paxton reached out to Sixtus.

“I still can’t move,” the guitarist complained.

As smoke billowed down the tunnel, Paxton tried to hurry this along. “We’re just going to have to pull you out of your pants.”

They each gripped one of Sixtus’ hands.

“On the count of three…” Paxton said.

“Wait!” Cecilia yelled, pointing to a small electronic keypad. “I think it’s—”

Sixtus’ screams filled the duct, echoing off the metal. He thrashed, pulling his hands back to his belly. Between the smoke and the flailing, Paxton had a hard time seeing what in the hell was going on.

But then metal glinted.

“Is that …?” Ruth asked, “is that a sword?”

Before he could confirm her guess, another sword arced though the duct and skewered Sixtus. Blood pooled around the guitarist.

Paxton felt a crush of people behind him. “Get back!”

He had no idea what was happening, but it wasn’t going to end well.

* * *

Cecilia covered her mouth in horror. “It’s booby-trapped!”

“Just like the room,” Michael added.

Another
clunk
. Another scream.

“Swords,”
Dahmer
murmured beside them. “Six swords. That’s how Sixtus was martyred.”

Oh, God, he was right. And there were three swords so far. Another scream. Four swords—with two more to go. Cecilia looked at the electronic keypad on the wall. A circle spun and flashed like a countdown. It went from green, to yellow, and finally, to red.

A fifth scream.

The circle went back to green.

“The keypad is controlling the swords!” Cecilia announced. “We’ve got to find a way to shut it off!”

But
Dahmer
backed away. “I can’t. I just…” He and the rest of the band retreated.

“Help us figure this out,” Michael implored,
but that just made them shy away
even
more
. “What wimps!” he said, turning back to Cecilia.

She frowned as she inspected the keypad. “You’re the one who worshipped them.”

“Yeah, well,” Michael snorted. “I’m over it.”

They needed someone who was into electronics—a nerd. She turned to Jeremy’s friend. “Evan, can you help out?”

The boy shrank back. Fear was painted across his face. Cecilia didn’t blame him, but she needed his skills.

“Please, Evan, we need you to see if there is a way to disconnect this.”

A sixth scream rang out, unnerving them all.

“Maybe it’s too late?” Michael asked.

Paxton pulled his head out of the shaft just long enough to shout, “No, he’s still alive, but we need those swords out,
now
!”

Evan bit his lip, but stepped forward. The keypad glowed green. The circle had stopped spinning, but Cecilia guessed that was because the six swords had already been unleashed.

“It looks like … It looks like a simple toggle interface,” Evan stammered.

“Which means?” Cecilia asked.

“Well, I think that if we were to cut the wiring behind the keypad, it might release.”

Michael nodded. “Then do it.”

“No, I mean, I can’t be sure. It could make things worse.”

Cecilia looked at Evan. He had to be kidding.

“Um, I don’t think it could get any worse,” Cecilia stated.

* * *

Ruth wished Cecilia’s words were true. Superheated metal was buckling behind Sixtus, and the heat came at them in waves. Forget the swords. If they didn’t all get out of the metal duct, they would end up looking like that poor scalded boy.

“Sixtus, stay with us, man,” Paxton pleaded, but the guitarist had gone limp a moment ago.

Keeping hold of the guitarist’s hand, Ruth pulled her head out of the hole.

“Evan …” she said softly.

He looked down at her with his big brown eyes. He looked so young and frail. He was not up to making this decision. But she was.

“Do it. Pull the wiring.”

“But Mom—”

She shook her head. “No, buts. It is my decision. No matter what happens, it’s my call. I just need you to do it for me.”

The sound of the metal duct groaning must have gotten through to Evan, as he used his Swiss Army knife to pry the control panel off the wall.

“He’d better hurry,” Paxton said from inside the duct.

With one last look of reassurance, Ruth ducked her head back inside. A burning beam had broken through the tunnel farther up, and flames licked at Sixtus’ boots. She could hear Cecilia urging Evan on.

“Evan, cut them!” Ruth ordered, as the tunnel crumpled like a child’s toy under the heat.

Even above the roar of the flames, she heard a loud
clunk
. The swords retracted into the wall.

“Pull!” Paxton yelled.

As flames whooshed down the duct, Ruth was way ahead of him.

Throwing her weight back, they pulled Sixtus from the shaft.

* * *

All Cecilia could see was smoke as Paxton and Ruth tumbled from the shaft. Fire followed, engulfing Sixtus. Michael was there, though, with the fire extinguisher. A cloud of white poured over the red and black.

Paxton choked as Ruth sputtered.

“Mom!” Evan said, as he ran up and hugged her.

Cecilia waved her hands in front of her, trying to see how badly injured Sixtus was. His arms were barely burned, but his torso looked downright singed. But what about his legs?

Where were his legs?

It took a moment for the scene to fully register. They had only pulled out
half
of Sixtus. Intestinal loops slid from his abdomen, spreading across the floor. Michael tried to pull her away from the sight, but Cecilia’s feet were planted. The scene was so incomprehensible that she could not look away.

“Crap. I thought he felt a little light,” Paxton said.

“Light?”
Dahmer
said, incredulous. “Light? He is missing his legs. His
legs
!”

“Thanks for pointing that out, devil-guy,” Paxton shot back.

“We have got to get out of here!” Rage shouted, pointing to the Exit sign.

Cecilia broke from her stupor to yell, “No!”

Everyone looked at her, and even Rage stopped in his tracks.

“Think about it,” Cecilia said, trying to bring the panicked thought to full form. “The killer has forced us to this point—right to an apparently awesome way to exit. I just… I don’t think we should take the bait.”

Before anyone could respond, a pounding came from the ceiling. A muffled cry followed. “Help! Help!”