Slippin' into Darkness

11:44 P.M.

The Colonial Chapel Mortuary was a study in glowing green-white. The energy-efficient halogen lights appealed to the bottom-line instincts of the proprietors, while the Barnum in them appreciated the mystical, otherworldly aura that the lights lent to the colonial-courthouse-style structure in the late hours.

Steve extinguished his headlights as he approached the mortuary. He pulled into the rear area where the hearses-one black and one white-were parked. Steve’s Dodge drifted to a stop between them.

Bat Bautista wanted to lure him to the cemetery. Wanted him to drive up, lights blazing, and park on the winding road near April’s grave. Wanted to blow his ass away from behind a tombstone.

No way that was going to happen. No way Steve was going to play their game, because he knew that they didn’t have anything that he wanted. Bat Bautista was a liar.

Steve glanced in the rearview and saw the guy who had tried to corral Bat Bautista with words sneering back at him. How had he ever imagined that he could tell Bat that April was back, and then expect him to leave her alone? Stupid, to have thought that he could scare Bat and the others, when they were the bastards who had trapped April in the nightmare in the first place. They were too stupid to fear anything.

They took April, all right. The A-Squad and that little bastard Shutterbug. They didn’t even bother with her dead husk, except to make it into a billboard.

Steve’s hands shook on the steering wheel as he remembered the note safety-pinned to the corpse’s cheek. That minor atrocity didn’t slow the A-Squad’s progress one second. They left April with Shutterbug, hoping to play out their hand, hoping to get the film, wanting everything, because that’s what guys like Bat and Derwin and Griz and Todd always wanted, and too many years had passed since any of them had gotten even a little piece of everything.

Steve slipped his gun belt around his waist and fastened the buckle. Leather creaked, and the familiar sound put him at ease. Hopefully he would manage to surprise them. Hit the A-Squad before they knew he was even there. Come out of the darkness like a boogieman.

Steve snatched up his shotgun.

He opened the car door quietly, stepped out soundlessly.

And the morons thought that he was stupid enough to drive up to the grave, lights blazing.

The 16mm loop was in Steve’s pocket. He knew what he was going to do with it. He was going to shoot Bat Bautista, but not kill him through. And then he was going to put the film in Bat’s pocket and light it on fire.

Steve closed the car door and turned, shaking his head, grinning…

…and he stepped into a nightmare.