Johnny Gruesome (45 page)

Throwing the rope around a tree trunk, Matt raced back to the embankment. He pulled the rope with both hands, using the tree for leverage. Carol stopped screaming when Eric burst through the ice hole, soaking wet. His quivering blue face told her everything she needed to know: he was freezing to death. His upraised hands came down hard on the solid ice and he tried to jump onto it, but that ice broke, as well, and he sank back into the water.

Bracing his legs, Matt pulled the rope harder, jerking Eric against the ice. No matter what else happened, he had to save Eric. He would not allow another teenager to die on his watch.

Matt’s rope prevented the current from sweeping Eric away.

Carol called to him, desperation in her voice, “Hang on, Eric!” The current slammed his bad leg, pulling it at an unnatural angle, the pain sickening.

“Hold tight, Eric!” Matt said, pulling the rope hand over hand. Carol joined him, and they hoisted Eric halfway out of the water.

They’re saving me!

Rope fibers burned Carol’s soft hands. She saw Eric come free of the water and tears filled her eyes.

“Pull harder!” Matt said as the wind whipped them. Digging her heels into icy shale, Carol saw hope brighten Eric’s face. She thanked God she had convinced Matt to bring her there.

And then Johnny emerged from the black water behind Eric.

Matt nearly let go of the rope. The thing rising from the water appeared human in configuration—

—lumbering away from the funeral home—

—and wore clothing—

—a black leather motorcycle jacket and a torn T-shirt—

—but the resemblance ended there. Surely this creature belonged not on earth, but in hell. The current had removed most of its flesh and hair, and only the exposed muscles held its skeletal frame together. A chain had wrapped around it, reminding Matt of Jacob Marley’s ghost in
A Christmas Carol.
Its eyes bulged in their sockets, and its throat issued a maniacal laugh. In that instant, he believed everything Carol and Eric had told him.

Feeling the skeletal fingers claw at his shoulders, Eric cringed at the sound of Johnny’s trademark laughter, which sounded as if it had been run through a food processor.

No!
This nightmare just would not end. He saw Matt and Carol shouting at him, but he couldn’t make out their words. Then Carol released the rope and drew the gun from her coat.

Carol recoiled at the sight of Johnny. He’d kill Eric, no doubt about it—and then he’d come for her. He’d kill Matt, too, and then rape her. She couldn’t allow that to happen. Releasing the rope, she pulled Matt’s .45 from her coat pocket and, holding the gun in both hands, trained it on the creek where Eric struggled against Johnny.

In shocked disbelief, Matt recognized the .45 in Carol’s hands. Now that he believed her account of Johnny’s misdeeds, he understood her need to carry the weapon for protection. But at this range, and in this darkness and weather, she could shoot Eric just as easily as she could Johnny, especially since she’d never taken lessons. He saw her aim the gun with both hands and anticipated the gunshot. She would never forgive herself if she hit Eric by mistake, but if he let go of the rope to stop her, Eric would die for certain.

Eric tried to pull himself the rest of the way out of the creek, but Johnny’s grip held him like a steel vise, and he felt himself slipping back into the water. He saw Carol aiming the gun at him, and he wondered if she intended to spare him a terrible death at Johnny’s hands.

“Errrrrriiiiiic!”

At that moment, he would have preferred a bullet in his head to whatever Johnny had in mind for him. He saw fire flash from the gun’s barrel and a shot ripped the sky.

With no other choice, Matt aimed a sideways kick at Carol’s hip. He winced as his blow sent her flying just as she fired the .45. The shot went wild and she cried out, landing on the shale.

“You’ll hit Eric!”

Lifting her head, she stared at him, her mouth open. With the color rushing from her face, she turned toward Eric and Johnny.

Realizing Matt had saved his life, and trusting him to maintain his hold on the rope, Eric threw himself at Johnny. His stomach churned at the rotting visage of his former best friend, entwined in the very chain with which he’d been murdered. With his last remaining strength, he wrapped his left arm around Johnny’s back and shoved the palm of his right hand beneath Johnny’s exposed jaw. Mere inches separated their faces and he pressed his lips close to the patch of soggy flesh still clinging to Johnny’s skull.

“It’s all over, Johnny!
You’re
over.”

Johnny clawed at Eric’s hair, his voice a strangled sound. “Fuck youuuuuu!”

With creek water cascading around them, Eric said, “I did my homework. You should have done yours. ‘A ghost can’t cross, travel over, or escape from, running water.’”

Johnny clawed at Eric’s eyes with his free hand. Eric twisted his face away from the skeletal fingers. Johnny snapped his jaws at Eric’s fingers, but Eric kept them beyond his reach.

“Your soul is never getting out of this creek unless you give up the ghost.”

Arching his spine, Johnny flailed his arms and roared. His frame rumbled and shook. How could this be happening to him? He raised his eyes to heaven for the answer. His jaws parted and for a moment he experienced rapture.