"Doesn't everyone," Shannon muttered. "You ran this way and she ran the other way," Laura said, "so she was heading away from where she lives."

"Yeah."

"Deeper into the cemetery."

"Yeah."

"Maybe she didn't try to outrun them," Shannon said. "Maybe she hid."

"Maybe," Hunter said. "I sure hope so."

Laura turned to Shannon. "So what should we do?"

"Guess we can forget about the Halloween party."

"And do what?" Laura asked.

"Call the cops."

Shannon led the way into the living room. She dropped into an easy chair, reached over to the table and picked up the handset of the cordless telephone.

The doorbell rang.

Alarm filled Hunter's eyes.

Shannon grimaced. "Maybe you'd better not get it this time."

"The screen door's locked."

The doorbell rung again.

"The faster I give them candy, the faster they'll go away."

"Just make sure they're kids."

"I'll be careful."

As the doorbell rang again, Laura hurried toward the foyer. Hunter started to go after her.

"No." Shannon reached out and grabbed his wrist. "You stay here. You might need to answer some... SHIT!!!"

CHAPTER SIX.

Hunter jerked his hand out of Shannon's grip and whirled around.

And squealed.

Out of the darkness of the dining room came a man with a Bowie knife. He ran toward Shannon. He was flanked by two women, a blonde with a saber, a brunette with a hatchet. Except for shoos, leather belts and sheaths - and a rope coiled around the neck of the blonde - all three were naked. Their skin gleamed with sweat. They grunted as they ran. Their eyes looked fierce.

Shannon hurled the cordless handset of the phone at the man. It hit him in the mouth with a clash of plastic against teeth, then bounced off. By the look on his face, it must've hurt. But it didn't stop him.

Laura ran into the living room, let out a cry of alarm, and brushed past Hunter as she dashed toward the attackers.

She's gonna take them on?

Hunter ran the other way.

As he raced into the foyer, the doorbell rang again.

Trick or treaters or more of them?

From behind Hunter came gasps and thuds, crashes of furniture and maybe bodies striking walls or the floor. Smacks of skin striking skin. Brawling sounds. But no sounds of anyone running toward him.

He stopped at the foot of the stairway. By the noises, the struggle was still going on.

He imagined himself returning, joining in the fight and saving the girls.

They haven't got a chance, he thought.

But they seemed to be keeping all three of the attackers busy, because nobody was coming after Hunter yet.

Quickly but quietly, he climbed the stairs.

On his way up, the doorbell rang again and made him flinch. He kept climbing.

At the top, he turned around. The stairway was empty. Crouching, he could see a portion of the foyer. Nobody was there.

He no longer heard noises of struggle from the living room. Was the fight over?

When they 're done down there, they'll come looking for me.

He started making his way slowly down the hall toward the light from Shannon's room.

Better not hide in there, he thought. At least not behind the door. They'll find me for sure.

His mind filled with memories of the last time he'd hidden behind the door. The excitement of being concealed, the fear of discovery... and then the thrill of spying on Shannon.

She knew I was watching, but she took her robe off anyway. She wanted me to see her.

Oh, God, what if they've killed her?

What if they've killed Laura? She was awfully nice... They both were, and I've probably gotten them killed.

Connie, too.

Groaning, he stepped into the spill of light from Shannon's bedroom. And saw a white telephone on the nightstand beside her bed.

He ran to the phone and snatched up its handset. As he raised it toward his ear, he reached down and jabbed 911. Then he listened for the ringing to start. "Come on, come on," he whispered.

He didn't hear any ringing. All he heard was a quiet sound like wind.

He tapped the plunger and released it.

No dial tone.

Just the same windy sound.

Then the breathless voice of a woman said into his ear, "He's still in the house."

Hunter gasped, "Ahh!" and slammed the phone down.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

"Come on, kids," Jeff said. "Let's go."

"I know they're in there," Phyllis protested in her usual whiny voice. How his daughter could have such an annoying best friend puzzled Jeff. Not only was Phyllis annoying, but embarrassing. Thirteen years old, and she was going house to house as a pint-sized version of Elvira... complete with the heavy makeup and low-cut black gown. "I heard them," she said.

"Yeah, Dad," Mandy said. "I did, too." Mandy, thank God, was dressed in an angora sweater, poodle skirt and saddle shoes.

"Well," Jeff said, "they're obviously not coming to the door. Maybe they've had enough trick or treaters for one night."

"Maybe they ran out of candy," suggested Bret, nodding his head in agreement with himself. "That's what I think. I might be wrong "

Jeff, standing at the bottom of the porch, nodded and smiled. His eight year old son was dressed as Dennis the Menace in a red T-shirt, bib overalls with a slingshot sticking out of his seat pocket, and sneakers. After supper, Sue had used an eyebrow pencil to give him freckles across his checks and nose, but the shock of yellow ban was all his own. Though he always looked like Dennis the Menace, the resemblance was only on the outside. Inside, he was Eeyore.

"Maybe they did run out of candy," Jeff said.

"Or maybe they just hate kids," Phyllis said.

Or maybe just you, Jeff thought. "Whatever," he said, "we don't want to bother them. Come on."

Phyllis trotted down the stairs, looking peeved in spite of her vampirish makeup, her boobs bouncing in spite of having none.

What the hell did Patsy put in there?

No telling, Jeff thought. Sue wouldn't have allowed Mandy outside the house in such a costume, but Patsy had apparently never considered the idea that an Elvira costume might be wildly inappropriate for a child the age of Phyllis. The revealing gown had not only been Patsy's idea, but she'd made it by hand. No doubt, her fertile imagination had come up with an exotic solution to the breast problem.

Jeff stepped aside. As Bret and the girls hurried past him, he caught a whiff of exotic perfume from Phyllis. Mandy's pony tail bounced and swished. So did the dangling rubber strip of Bret's slingshot.

When they were a short distance ahead of Jeff, he followed them to the driveway.

"Last year," Bret said, "they gave us Three Musketeers bars."

"How do you know?" Phyllis asked.

"I remember." A moment later, he asked, "Don't you?"

"Sure," Phyllis muttered.

"They're nice."

"Three Musketeers bars?"

"Them, too. Only I was meaning Shannon and Laura."

Mandy looked back at him. "You know their names?" She sounded surprised.

Though Jeff was used to Bret's remarkable memory, he found himself surprised, too. "You remember their names from last Halloween?" he asked.

"Huh uh."

"No?" Mandy asked. "Then how do you know them?"

Bret hesitated.

Uh-oh, Jeff thought. What'd he do?

"Oh, well, I phoned 'em up."

First I've heard about this, Jeff thought.

"You phoned them?" he asked.

"What for?"

"Just school."

"What about school?"

"Spill the beans, kid," Phyllis helped.

"Why exactly did you call them?" Jeff asked.