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“Just kick it open and run inside!”
“You kick it open and run inside!”
Suddenly, the handle was jerked out of my grip as the door was yanked open from the other side. A small figure in a hockey mask leaped toward us and yelled, “WoooooOOOOO!” like a ghost, making us both jump violently while Vince let out a bloodcurdling scream, which made me scream, which made the other guy scream. The yodelling was even louder now, thudding through my skull and making it hard to think, so I had no idea what was going on when Vince suddenly screamed again as he abruptly tipped over, his fingernails clawing down my arm.
I whirled around in horror and saw another masked figure scurrying backward into the dining room opposite, dragging Vince with him by a rope he’d knotted around his ankles.
“Daaaan!” Vince screamed, reaching for me desperately, nails scrabbling over the floorboards.
My eyes widened in horror. I dropped the framed painting and lunged, landing on my belly with a grunt and snagging Vince’s fingertips just before he vanished into the darkness under the dining table.
“Don’t let go, Dan,” he croaked.
“I’ll never let go,” I rasped back. “I promise.”
“Gimme that zipper, boy.” Frank’s horrifyingly familiar voice came from under the dining table, followed by a cackle.
I yelped in terror when Beans walked up my legs and over my ass to stand on my back. He started doing a jig in time with the Alpine folk music, making me grunt from the impact. I twisted onto my side to throw him off, then scrambled to my knees to grab Vince’s wrists in a tight grip and heave.
Frank fought against me, making Vince squawk as he was pulled in two directions at once.
“Let—go—Frank!” I bellowed. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“What the heck are you doing?” he yelled back. “You’re in our house!”
“You opened the door for us!”
“Yeah, and then I heard the ghoul call us serial killers! That’s offensive, man.”
“I didn’t mean it!” Vince wailed. “You’re not serial killers! Please don’t kill me!”
“We’re not gonna kill you, boy.” Beans sauntered closer, snapping his fingers. “But we are going to take that mighty fine zipper on them there jeans.”
“Wh-what? I—Fine, take the fucking zipper!” Vince shouted. “Take the jeans! I don’t care! I’ll walk out of here naked if it means I actually get to walk out of this fucking nightmare!”
“You’re not taking his zipper,” I yelled furiously, letting go of one wrist to reach for the painting I’d dropped and smashing it over Beans’ head. It settled around his neck like a collar as he crouched in a warrior pose and screamed at the ceiling.
This was chaos. I couldn’t fucking think. At this moment, I couldn’t even remember why we were here. I finally managed to get my arms around Vince’s middle. He clung to me desperately, and when Frank suddenly let go of the rope, I flew back and landed on my ass with Vince collapsing on top of me.
He twisted around, nailing me in the gut as he scrambled to shove the rope off his ankles. I was already trying to stand, no idea where either Frank or Beans were now, and I accidentally used Vince’s face to push myself back up, which made him squawk and fall onto his side.
My chest was heaving when I finally got to my feet and grabbed Vince’s arm to help him up. He clutched my shirt, shaking me frantically.
“Let’s just get the fuck out of here, man.”
I nodded quickly. This had definitely not gone the way I’d planned.
But when we spun for the door, we both froze at the sight of Beans blocking the way, the hockey mask gone and a pair of sunglasses on his face now.
He was holding a paintball gun.
“Say hello to these little puppies.” We whirled around again to face the voice, clinging to each other, to see Frank in the exact same pose, with the exact same paintball gun, which he raised and aimed at us as Vince sucked in a panicked breath.
We yelped when they started pelting us with paintballs from both sides. Hunching over to protect the goods, I grabbed Vince’s arm and dragged him into the living room as he cried out, “That’s not even the line!”
This room was filled with more tandem bicycles and—making my blood run cold with horror—a large collection of statue heads, doll heads, mannequin heads and the heads of models cut out of magazines. There were heads everywhere. I was pretty sure I’d had a recurring nightmare like this as a kid.
Vince and I shrieked and dove behind the couch when Frank and Beans appeared in the doorway and kept firing paintballs at us, spraying the entire room and cackling maniacally. Yodelling music blasted our eardrums, making it impossible to think.
