Chapter 8
Mrs. Hancock stared at the house beyond the fence. The lights were going out one by one and the automobiles parked along the street and driveway were being driven away. Mrs. Hancock was very unhappy. If the police didn't arrive shortly, there would be no one left to arrest and she would never learn the cause of all the screaming.
She started to turn from the window but a flash of light caught her eye and the beams of two headlights swept the length of the house next door. She paused, turning back to watch this new development as a car raced along the street, cut into the driveway beyond the fence and directly across the well-kept Felton lawn. The front wheels dug into the turf, the back wheels spun and two ditches were gouged the length of the lawn. Voices erupted in hilarious laughter, the motor roared and the car, with occupants screaming, disappeared out the farther drive, into the street and the darkness of the night.
Marlena Hancock was stunned. She knew how much work had been put into that lawn by the Feltons and it was inconceivable that anyone would go to the extent of deliberately ruining it. That was exactly what was happening, deliberately ruined.
Mrs. Hancock made a silent prayer for the police to arrive in time to catch the culprits and make them pay for the terrible damage they had inflicted.
Down the street, the officer in the approaching cruising car was piqued by the new assignment. "Holy Christ!" he complained, snapping the switch on his radio mike. "Another one of those!" He hung the mike on the hook and ground his teeth together and looked at his partner.
"Again?" muttered the driver. "Oh Brother!"
"Maybe this will be just a nice clean murder or wife beating and we won't have to stay long," observed the officer. "Boy, I sure could use a good cup of coffee."
"No such luck." grumbled the driver heading the car for the area of the disturbance. "Probably some old bag heard an alley cat on the back fence...."
"Probably...." agreed the officer.
Victor Zigler was feeling the influence of the marijuana and flood of beer he had consumed. At the moment he was certain he was ten feet tall and his head was almost scraping the ceiling. All the kids looked like toys scattered about in various angles and none of them with enough sense to go home.
"Go home," he mumbled and tried to concentrate on Denise. Nothing was going right. Roni Collins had disappeared right before his eyes and Denise Wrigley was among the missing. In fact, everyone was missing except him and those silly kids who seemed to be forever getting in the way. He was sure he was walking through acres and acres of kids and not one of them with enough sense to know when they weren't wanted.
"Go home," he bleated toward the piles and piles of humanity. " Go home! Everyone go home!" and he headed toward the front hall in hopes of finding some trace of the missing girls.
Victor rested with his foot on the first step and his hand on the railing of the front staircase. He was certain that somewhere up there he would find Denise Wrigley. He didn't like the fact she had run out on him without satisfying his needs and he had to locate her before some other Drummer fit the scene. She had to be somewhere and she must be up there. He would find her, if only he could get up these damned stairs!
Never in his life had he seen a stairway so high or steps so big. He tried to focus his eyes on the spot where they disappeared into the nothingness at the top. He lifted his foot to the first step which suddenly became four feet high and was made out of nothing but rubbery substance. He looked into the haze which secluded the rising stairs and the grinning face of Guido which suddenly appeared where the purple and blue cloud had been only a moment before.
Victor grinned sheepishly and held out a hand for help.
"Help me Weedo," he pleaded in a tone that was thick with the leavings of beer, vodka and marijuana. "Help me...."
The long arm came down the staircase, grasping his hand and pulling him upward, and as he moved along from step to step he had the sensation that his feet no longer responded to his thoughts. It was like he was floating a few inches above each step until he reached the top and was standing there looking at Guido. A Guido with eyes that were two pools of black ink and shivering like a cold and very wet puppy.
From outside came a bedlam of sound. Voices babbling shrilly, mixed with shrill laughter. The bark of a motorcycle ripped the night and the more subtle roar of a complaining motor. It sounded as if a miniature speedway was being instituted outside the Felton doorway. A shattering staccato of sound ripped the night air and squeeling tires, loud shouting and then suddenly, all was still.
"Wild," mumbled Victor, trying to form the words with a tongue too large for the inside of his mouth. "Really wild!"
Guido nodded agreement but said nothing.
"Wher'sa girlsh? Victor asked, trying to hold his head up above a floor that seemed to be continually coming closer. "The girlsh," he repeated.
Guido said nothing.
"Wher'sha Lenny?" Victor asked.
Again Guido was silent.
"Is Lenny down there?" Victor demanded extending an arm to point along the hallway. It was clear he was getting impatient and wanted to find Leonard. He had a sneaky feeling that where ever Leonard might be, Denise might be also. "Is he?" he demanded again.
Guido made a motion with his head but throught the haze of his befuddled brain, Victor was certain he had indicated yes or no.
"Is he?" he asked again and forced one foot to move in the direction of the doors leading off the upper hallway.
"Want a Birdie!" he stated as he wavered on his feet. "Want a bird to fly!" and he staggered down the hall holding his hands against the wall to stay erect and feeling his way as he moved along.
"Lenny! Oooooooooo Lenny!" he wailed and opened the first door he came to.
The master bedroom was empty and the outside light from the huge window showed the un-rumpled bed and smooth spread. Victor said "Damn," and moved on to the next room.
The guest room was a picture of serenity, illuminated by the soft light which feebly disclosed the form of Roni Collins, still sprawled across the coverlet and breathing deeply in slumber. Her hair partially obscured her face, and she was clad only in the brief panties and curled up like a purring kitten in the process of sleeping it off.
Victor glared down at her and turned away in disgust. He wanted his sexual partners awake, warm and willing. Roni Collins appeared to be none of the three.
In the hall again he paused to call for Leonard once more. He gestured feebly as the bathroom door opened and the lost host shuffled into the hallway. His pants were open down the fly, his shirt rumpled, his hair mussed. He was trying to stuff the shirt tails inside his trousers and grinning foolishly.
"Watsamatter?" he inquired thickly. "Wats-a-shouten-for?"
"Werr the'ell you been?" demanded Victor. "Wersh my girl?"
"Bathroom," mumbled Leonard. "Ain't seen no girl." His mind was blank, he couldn't remember any girl. In fact, his mind was incapable of measuring the passage of time. He had no idea of how long since he came upstairs or why.
"What you doin' in the bathroom?" demanded Victor thickly. "You shhhhhick?"
Leonard shrugged and worked at the front of his pants trying to close the fly. "Had to pee," he explained. "Had to go real bad."
"Where's Denise?" inquired Victor. He wanted to keep his eyes focused on Leonard but he wouldn't stay still. He appeared to be going around and around like the special effects on a television program.
"Denise?" mumbled Leonard completely puzzled.
"Didn't you take her?" demanded Victor.
I'll
"When I wasn't lookin'. Didn't you?"
"Huh?" muttered Leonard making the only sound that came to his mind. "Whoosh she?"
"Jezussss!" stormed Victor. "Ain't you seen her?"
"No," mumbled Leonard completely forgetting what had happened only a few minutes ago. "No I ain't." And he pulled on the zipper to close his pants.
"Shumbody did," growled Victor. "L'ess find her." He pointed toward the one remaining un-searched room. "Shee in there?"
Leonard wrinkled his nose, shrugged his shoulders again and looked completely blank. Victor turned the knob and pushed the door open.
The nightlight was still burning and Denise Wrigley, now fully clothed sat on the edge of the bed looking at the opposite wall. Her eyes turned toward the boys as they entered the room and she climbed shakily to her feet.
"Want to go home," she informed them. "Don't like parties."
"Watchdoen Baby, mis't ya."
"Have to go home," the girl repeated. "Have to go now."
She was completely dressed and nothing about her manner other than the sloppy hang of her skirt gave any indication that she had ever been disrobed.
"Wancha stay with me." Victor said and his tone implied that it should be the natural thing to do without asking.
"Have to go," the girl said again. "Have to go now," and she tried to push past him to leave the room. He held out an arm to stop her. There was a sinking sensation in his stomach. All possibilities of satisfaction were being torn away. What had started out as an evening of fun and fulfillment was turning out to be an insatiable nightmare.
"Jezusssss!" he exploded. "You let some damn drummer fuck you already!"
"Go away," Denise said and weaved past him toward the door.
Victor reached for the sweater and the mound of flesh beneath it.
"No!" she said pushing his hand away. "Must go home," and she shuffled through the door into the hallway. "Find a cab," she said and started unsteadily along the hall toward the staircase.
"Take her home! Take her home!" whispered Victor hoarsly. "Everybody go! Go! Go home!!" He stalked along behind her through the door into the hall. He could see her as she headed down the stairs and disappeared from view behind a wall. Nothing, absolutely nothing was going to turn out alright.
Downstairs, the house was vacant. The kids were gone and only the wreckage left behind to remind some one that eventually, eventually, there had to be a day of reckoning.
A black automobile with a white crest on the door coasted slowly past the now silent residence. The officer peered through the window and grumbled to his partner. "Wouldn't you just know it," he complained surveying the dark windows of the Felton house. "Some phone happy jerk has done it to us again."
"You just can't win Sarge," agreed the driver. "Can we go get that coffee now?"
"Why not?" remarked the Sergeant. "If we keep trying, we might come up with a murder yet, the night is still young," and he laughed at his own little joke.
Victor Zigler slammed the Imp into gear and jumped the clutch. The wheels caught on the black top with a squeal and the odor of burned rubber. The automobile leaped from the driveway into the street, the lights cutting a running swath through the darkness. The burbling motor rose in volume but not enough to drown out the higher pitched sound of hysterical laughter that poured from the throat of the youthful driver.
Victor Zigler was laughing at the world, laughing to show that he understood the joke and didn't care even if he was part of it. Victor was used to being the butt of scrutiny and the one most likely to lose out whenever anything good came around. The fact that tonight had turned out as it had didn't mean a thing. What difference did it make if other kids had all the fun, the nice girls to cater to them and a decent place to go home to? He didn't care what happened to anyone, Leonard, Guido, Denise or even that sassy little blonde who made eyes at him all evening and then went out the minute he looked the other way. He didn't care at all so long as he was Victor and the world looked up to him because he was the best.
The laughter died out, the car moved to the side of the street, coming to an abrupt halt as his foot hit the brake, a figure doubled up over the steering wheel and the voice broke into a burst of uncontrollable sobs!
Victor Zigler had just had a glimpse into tomorrow and what he saw, he didn't like!