Don't Read After Dark: Keep the lights on while reading these! (A McCray Horror Collection) (84 page)

It was a bit of a buzz kill.

Even simple conversations with the “realies” out there were tough when the voice was around and acting up. How were you supposed to look somebody in the eye and really listen to them when you had words ringing in your ears?
Killkillkill.

Truth be told, he was tired of fighting it. Like his therapist always said, “It’s better to be happy than to be right.” And the only way to be happy, as far as he could tell, was to do what the voice said.

It would be funny, he supposed, if it wasn’t so maddening. The voice could be pretty nice in those few moments when it wasn’t demanding things out of him. The voice called him “hero” and “savior” and, sometimes, “my right hand”.

And honestly, he was kind of excited about the killing, now that he’d made the decision to go ahead with it. Come on. In all honesty, who wouldn’t want to kill if they knew for sure they were going to get away with it?

That was the thing, wasn’t it? He was totally going to get away with it. The voice had gone to such great efforts to make sure he didn’t get caught. It was so much smarter than he was. Together, they had set up an elaborate ritual for the event. Hair net on the head, scrub the arms up to the elbows to get rid of possible skin flakes that might fall, latex gloves to keep from leaving fingerprints.

And the way he was supposed to do it? Creative. Witty. Charming, even.

He scrubbed his hands through his hair, feeling the slight pain from the tugging of the hair follicles across his scalp. The pain helped him to focus.

There really wasn’t much of a choice here, was there?

Might as well get to it. His hands started to tremble. But, for now, he had to bide his time. His opening would come soon enough. Right now the house was way too hopping. Too much happening. Too many witnesses wandering around.

He would wait.

And try not to let the voice drive him too crazy in the meantime.

CHAPTER 1

Josh couldn’t stop tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. He would notice he was doing it, stop, then find himself tap, tap, tapping away again within about thirty seconds.

Glancing over at the passenger side wasn’t helping him much. It’s not like Allie was dressed all that sexy, but then again, she really didn’t have to, as far as Josh was concerned. But there was something…different…about her tonight. She had on a turtleneck sweater and a long skirt that pretty much left everything to the imagination, but there was something different. Was that a slit in the skirt? He couldn’t tell without staring, and well, that was hard to do while still trying to keep the car on the road.

To be honest, he found that he liked this change and was scared by it in equal portions. His finger started vibrating once more, setting his key chain to rattling.

“Dude, would you just chill?” Seven called up from the backseat. “If you were talking to the po-po right now, they’d arrest you for just
looking
guilty.”

Allie tossed her straight black hair over her shoulder, revealing her dark eyes—part of the Latino heritage from her mom—that sparked with irritation as she glared at Seven. “Like you’ve ever had to talk to the cops in your life,
Stephen Sobolevski.
Getting tons of tattoos and brushing your nasty hair over one eye doesn’t make you a badass by default.”

“Hey, how many times have I told you? It’s Seven.” He directed his attention back to Josh. “Ya know? I’m thinking bringing you guys out here was a tactical error. Can’t have you ruining my rep.”

Allie snorted, but didn’t say anything more. Josh glanced over, soaking up her perfume, then got way too distracted for safe driving. Instead, he picked Seven out in the rear view mirror, noting the sour look on his friend’s face. His friend muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “Bros before hos, dude.” If that’s what he had said, it wouldn’t be the first time.

Of all nights, though, he needed Seven to behave.
I’ve been working up to this for eight months. Do not screw this up for me.
Hopefully at least some of that was showing on his face.

“Come on, Seven,” Josh appealed to his friend. “Lighten up. It’s our first time to a rave and we’re kinda ramped up.”

“Yeah, yeah.
Rave
. Whatevs. If she wasn’t hot, I’d totally chuck her out of the car at the next stop sign.”

That comment got the beginnings of a grin out of Allie, even as she huffed and flipped her hair back over her shoulder in his general direction. It was the usual dance the three had engaged in ever since Allie had started hanging out with their little dynamic duo.

But tonight, it was all about the party. And as much as Allie and Seven were bickering like a married couple, Josh was pretty sure they were both just as nervous as he was.

He pulled out his cell phone to make sure he was still going in the right direction. They had been driving for about an hour and a half from the time they had left Studio City, where Allie lived in an apartment with her mom. The mom that Seven commonly referred to as the MILF. Seven kinda had a point on that one. From what Josh could tell, Allie had gotten her looks from her mom.

They were now somewhere out to the east of Palmdale, to the north of Angeles National Forest, driving along something called Pearblossom Highway, which could barely be considered a road, much less a freeway. Josh had never seen so many Joshua trees in his life. He had only known what they were before because his dad was a U2 freak who had named his only son after an album.

They had just passed up a roadside tourist trap that proclaimed the superiority of its date shakes and smoked “meats,” never once specifying what meats those might be. Josh had been curious, but one sideways peek at the vegetarian Allie had eighty-sixed that idea.

And now they were out in the middle of nowhere and, according to Josh’s iPhone 4S, completely without cell phone coverage. Awesome. Not only could he not figure out where he was, he had no way of contacting his parents if—make that
when—
things got late.

“Hey, Seven. You sure you know where you’re going?” Josh did what he could to keep the quaver out of his voice, and was mostly successful. He did
not
like getting lost.

“Dude. Yes. I’m telling you, I’ve been out here like a dozen times.”

Which was a patent lie, of course. Seven might be older and, according to him at least, wiser than he and Allie, but that was only because he had failed his freshman year of high school. Twice. Then, after he’d started hanging with Josh, his GPA had shot up, mostly due to the fact that Josh couldn’t help his people-pleaser personality and could never say “no” when Seven asked for “help” with his homework.

Now they were all in their senior year and looking to have some quality adventures before high school was completely over. But considering the amount of time they all hung out together, Seven couldn’t have been out here more than once or twice without them. Besides, where would Seven have gotten the gas money?

M83 blared out of the speakers, the electronic counterpoint of the music setting Josh’s mind spinning in a million different directions, but somehow making him feel nostalgic at the same time. Nostalgic for a simpler time, maybe. A time before Allie transferred to his school. A time before her every move became the sole occupation of his heated brain.

Josh rolled the window down a crack. It wasn’t that it was hot inside the car—actually, the wind coming through the window was like an arid blast from a furnace—but the scent of the air held kind of a wild promise. There was a heady mix of sage, scrub oak and baked rock that made Josh want to tip back his head and howl at the moon.

He figured he needed it.

Allie had been on his radar ever since she first moved into their school. The fact that she had chosen to hang out with them still blew his mind. But even with all of this
inter
action, he wasn’t getting any
action
. And by action he meant just a simple handhold or peck on the check. He’d gotten nothing. Nada. Zip. Clearly he was stuck in the friend zone and might never get out. He was hoping tonight’s outing would change things.

There were a ton of rational reasons for them not dating. Allie was a total brainiac who was looking at early acceptance from M.I.T. any day now. She always joked that her brain for higher math was the only good thing she’d inherited from her deadbeat, but brilliant, dad. But wherever she got her smarts from, she intended to make the most of them, and Josh knew a heavy relationship could totally blow that for her. He didn’t want that.

But even with the best of intentions, lately things seemed to be changing between them—or maybe it was just wishful thinking on Josh’s part. Little half sentences, an occasional stutter out of nowhere, a small blush. He really hoped it wasn’t wishful thinking.

The other problem was that Josh had been raised a strict Mormon with the expectation that he would be leaving on a mission for his faith as soon as he turned nineteen. Two years in some foreign country… or worse,
Idaho
… with no dating, hanging out with another guy as a companion and spreading the good word like a good boy. Kinda hard to go through all that with a serious girlfriend back home.

In spite of all of that, he was pretty sure that tonight was gonna push things in one direction or another. And for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out which way he wanted it to go. He really,
really
wanted to at least kiss a girl before heading off into the female wasteland of a mission. And he really, really,
really
would love it if that girl was Allie.

Plus, if word got out that he’d never even made lip contact, that was it for his social reputation.
Yeah, I’ve never been kissed and I’m gonna be hanging out with men preaching the gospel for a couple of years.
That was sure to go over well. Whoa. Josh was struck with a nasty, ugly thought. What if Allie had already found out, and that was why she had kept him in the friend penalty box? This thing could be over before it even started.

Plus there was fact that he really liked Allie. A lot. Maybe more than liked. She was smart, no doubt, but she was also funny and irreverent and insightful in ways that none of the other girls Josh had dated ever were. And hot. Had he mentioned how hot she was? Hot, hot,
hot
.

Josh pulled up to a four-way stop, effectively pushing all questions of morality out of his head for a second. Where exactly was he supposed to go from here? He swiveled around in his seat to consult with the resident know-it-all.

“Where to, Seven?”

Seven made a production out of leaning forward to look out the front windshield. He craned his neck to look at the roads to the right and to the left. He then pronounced his verdict with the finality and slight boredom of a judge proclaiming sentence on a three-time felon.

“Take a left.”

He then slouched back in his chair, studying his fingernails as if they held the secret to the universe. Sometimes Josh questioned his taste in friends.

The road off to the left was to real roads what Pearblossom Highway was to real highways. In other words, not even close. It was one step up from a dirt road. No, it was a dirt road, just a little bit more level and tighter packed than most.

At least it wasn’t likely to ruin the suspension in Josh’s car. Correction. Josh’s
parents’
car. That they thought was down at Hollywood and Highland right about now. Where Josh was supposed to be watching a movie. With Seven nowhere in sight or sound. Josh felt a pang of guilt that he managed to suppress. He spoke over his shoulder.

“You sure this is right? It feels like we’re going out to a cattle ranch, not a rave.”

“Dude. Seriously. You gotta stop with the
rave
. Would you just trust me? Dozens of times, remember?” Seven huffed out his indignation, blowing up the hair that hung lank and stringy over his left eye. Someone needed to tell him that emo was on its way out. And by that, Josh meant that it had
been
out for about a half a decade now.

The only thing that kept Josh from doing it was the realization that Seven would probably move off emo into imitating hipsters, which was going to be infinitely more irritating. Josh had a sudden vision of Seven in skinny jeans and a v-neck tee shirt, sporting a beard and wearing glasses with no lenses. He had to turn his sudden laughter into a cough to keep from having to explain what was so funny.

Allie had rolled her window down a crack as well, and the cross breezes were playing with her hair, lifting it up and whipping it back and forth. They were like dark snakes, winding around her neck, caressing her skin. Okay, new thought. Time for a new thought.

Josh wouldn’t swear to it, but he thought she might dye her hair to get that perfect jet black. It seemed impossible that anyone could have hair that dark. That, combined with the fact that she did what she could to stay out of the sun, lent her a slightly goth look that Josh found pretty much irresistible. Hm. That might not have been the best new thought for him to focus on. Honestly, he couldn’t help himself.

Should he say something about it? Like how pretty her hair was? But each time he went to open his mouth, his lips clamped shut. He was so out of his element. He’d only moved to L.A. a year and a half ago from Kansas. And since then, he had heard pretty much every variation of the
Wizard of Oz
“we’re not in Kansas anymore” joke. Thing is, they were all totally right. He wasn’t in Kansas anymore. Things were different here in California. Very, very different.

Seven leaned forward, pointing his index finger slightly off to the right. Man, he totally needed to cut his nails. Guys weren’t supposed to share grooming tips—it was part of the Man Code—but maybe Josh could make an exception. That was totally unsanitary.

“That’s it, dude,” Seven announced. “Take a right. Then just follow it to the parking area.”

Josh looked, but didn’t like what he saw. “Seriously?
That’s
the road?”

It was nothing more than a double rut, markings for the tires on either side of the car. This was not good. At the very least, the dust and dirt from this “road” was going to completely coat the Mazda. At the worst, it could destroy the suspension.