5. Escape

The demon house has him prisoner. Can Henry escape?

Henry steeled himself. Repeating in his mind the names of his wife and children like a mantra, he splashed water on his face and stormed out of the bathroom and beelined for marble statue and the exit Lenore had described. 

His heart sank when he turned the corner. Beside the marble statue, stood Mr. Vanderbilt, Agnes, and Lenore, engrossed in the tail end of their conversation.

Mr. Vanderbilt spoke softly, anger heavy in his breath. “What did you say to him. Have you no concern for the collective good?”

Then Agnes shrieked, “She’s just selfish, Mr. Vanderbilt.  And doesn’t give a damn about our rules…” 

They turned, becoming aware of Henry’s presence. 

“Ah, Henry,” Mr. Vanderbilt said smiling.  “We’ve been waiting for you.”  

Henry’s skin crawled.  His eyes searched for the door, for the exit corridor that should be nearby.  Hid eyes met Lenore’s.  She gave him a meaningful look.  But he could not decode it.

Mr. Vanderbilt sniggered, then slid his arm around Henry’s shoulder like a snake. “We were worried perhaps you’d become ill. Come my friend, let us return to our table.” 

They led him back to his table.  And Henry could feel the magic try to wrap itself around his memory.  Henry battled it with his mantra, repeating the names of his wife and children. 

“Is the man ready to play the game, or will we keep having these damn interruptions?” said Mr. Brody when they reached the table.  

“Let’s see,” said Vanderbilt, smiling grimly at the other man. “Henry? Are you ready to play?”

Henry felt the sweat trickle down his forehead.  His palms were sweaty.  His heart pounded in his chest.

“I won’t…” said Henry softly, so that Vanderbilt and the others had to lean in close to hear him. 

His eyes met with Lenore across from him.  She nodded slightly.

Henry cleared his throat, then began more firmly, though his voice still shook.  “Mr. Vanderbilt, I won’t be yours or anyone else’s puppet.  Go to hell!”

Henry shoved Vanderbilt’s arm out of the way.  Vanderbilt’s eyes widened.   Out of the corner of his eye, Vanderbilt saw it�"�"  Lenore, in the shape of a great fox, pounced on Vanderbilt, toppling the table in the same motion.  Poker chips rained and chittered upon the ground. Mr. Brody and Agnes were knocked back.

“Run!” shouted Lenore.

Henry ran.

Behind him he heard the sounds of Mr. Vanderbilt’s howling as they wrestled the fox.  “Stop him, Mr. Brody!” shouted Mr. Vanderbilt.  “He’s getting away!”

There was a flash and a sound of lightning. It was as if lightning fell from the sky, but there was no sky.  There was no roof.  No hotel.  Just a purple darkness, and the bare walls of the house.  The corridor.  The door.

The pretense of luxurious party life that the house had projected just a moment before disappeared. 

The marble statue at the end of the hall was no longer lovers rapt in passion.  Both lovers back’s arched violently backward, their mouth agape in a screech of pain. Henry could hear the souls and pain, and knew the horror that awaited him if they caught him.

Henry ran for his life.

“I’ve got him,” said Mr. Brody’s voice from close behind.  Henry couldn’t look back.  He needed to reach the corridor.  To get past the statue and to the door and freedom.

Pain gripped Henry’s side.  The air expelled from his lungs as the bulk of a giant boar barreled Henry to the ground.  Henry screamed.  Mr. Brody stood over him, his hoof digging into his chest.  “I got you, you uncooperative maggot! You’re life is mine.  I don’t care what the others want, it’s mine!”

Henry struggled to lift his head.  To see beyond the quickly encroaching darkness around his eyes. The weight on his chest was immense, he couldn’t breathe.  He was going to pass out. He wanted to call out for help.  Help.  Help.

“All for your self?  You’re mistaken dearie, you’re mistaken.”  It was the voice of Agnes, livid that Mr. Brody had claimed Henry for himself.

Agnes, in the shape of a great spider, wrapped four of her enormous bristly legs around Mr. Brody and lifted the boar off the ground.  She carried him several meters away, then slung the tusked beast and sent him crashing through a rotted wall, knocking over the granite statue, and lifting great clouds of brown smoke.

Henry sucked sweet air.  With the weight lifted, he could breathe.  He could smell the rot of the evil house and the beasts that lived in it.  But by God, he could breathe again.  

Now Agnes came for him.  Eight legged, hairy and with twelve white eyes staring at him as they came closer and closer. 

Henry clawed to his feet.  He bolted for the door at the end of the corridor.  The exit!  He could see it now,  between the foggy wisps of spiderwebs. 

He pushed through it.  It gave way easily, but as he swam deeper in the web, he became more and more tangled.  Agnes’s laugh was a banshee laugh behind him. She didn’t even bother running.  She stalked her prey, stretching her long bristly legs forward languidly.

Then Agnes’s witch laughter was cut short as the great boar broke through the rubble that had collapsed around him, and charged. 

You can’t have him!”  The boar snarled.  “He’s mine!”  And the beast plowed a tusk into the spider’s belly. 

It gave him a brief window.  Henry pushed harder through the web, straining his muscles to reach the door.  It was only a few feet away now.  He could almost reach it.

Henry looked over his shoulder, between the muck of grey wisps that clung to him like sticky white tar.  He saw that the spider, Vanderbilt, the boar and Lenore were bunched up in the narrow corridor, their massive bodies unable to move freely for all trying to occupy the same space at once. Lenore’s teeth were wrapped around Vanderbilt’s snake-like body.

Henry reached the door knob.  He slammed his shoulder against the door.

The door gave way even as he heard the mixed sounds of Mr. Brody, Agnes, and Vanderbilt’s shouts of rage and a faint whimper between them: “Take me with you!”

Henry felt the light of the night and the street lamps on 66th and 8th street splash across his face.  He tumbled past the porch steps and onto the unkempt lawn.  He braced himself, expecting his pursuers to come through the door and on top of him, but they did not.

He turned to stare at the open door of the big house.  Through the opening he could see nothing but darkness. For a moment, in the middle of that darkness stood Vanderbilt, his skin blue, his face snake like.  Then he wasn’t there.  There was nothing there. He was alone and free.

Henry exclaimed a shout of triumph.  He pulled the pounds of web off of him with an effort.  He got into his car and went home.

Reviews

[Alex Cook]

Loved this part
There was a flash and a sound of lightning. It was as if lightning fell from the sky" but there was no sky. There was no roof. No hotel. Just a purple darkness, and the bare walls of the house. The corridor. The door.