Evil Jester Digest, Vol.1 by Peter Giglio (Editor) Page A

here, but we’ll get out of it somehow.”
    He returned to the window. The menacing group waited in the street below. Pale faces were turned up toward the second floor window. The eyes were pinpoints of reflected light in shadowed hollows. He went back to the door and put his shoulder to the wood. Something clicked. He grasped the knob. It turned in his hand. The door opened suddenly outward and Harry almost fell into two men who stood outside. One was their cadaverous driver, the other shorter and broader but just as pale and ragged.
    “Come,” the driver rasped.
    “Like hell.” Harry started to turn back toward his wife who cowered near the bed.
    The men moved with surprising swiftness. Each took hold of one of his arms. They began to pull him into the hall. Harry yanked one arm free from the shorter man and swung a blow at the driver. His fist smacked the man’s shoulder with a pulpy sound. A puff of dust rose from his coat. He showed no reaction to being hit. Harry swung again, hitting the side of the driver’s face. The cheekbone cracked and caved in. Neither man showed a sign of pain, but the grip on Harry’s other arm loosened enough for him to pull free.
    A third man pushed past the struggling group in the doorway and went for Laura. Harry ripped away from the two men pawing at him and rushed toward his wife. He smashed his fist into the back of the man’s head as he reached for Laura. It was like hitting a rotten pumpkin. Dark syrupy liquid oozed out. Harry seized his wife’s arm and pulled her toward the door. The man who had been their driver blocked the path. Harry slammed him into the wall. Bones cracked under the dusty clothes.
    In the hall the couple started toward the stairs but stopped as the heads of four, six, more of the weird silent people appeared, coming up for them. Harry spun and steered Laura back in the other direction.
    “Run!”
    Laura snapped out of her shock and they ran in the hallway, away from the approaching figures. The three men from the room stumbled out to block them, two with broken heads, the third with one arm dangling. With Laura tucked in behind him Harry lowered his shoulder and blasted through the trio like a pulling guard leading the way for a running back.
    They pounded to the far end of the hall. A blank plaster wall stopped them. No back stairs. Harry swore and turned back to see the hallway filled with the shambling figures coming toward them. He grabbed the knob on the nearest intact door and pulled. It did not budge.
    “Shit!”
    The advancing figures were just half a hall length away. They had proved not too sturdy when he hit the three in the room, but the sheer numbers could overwhelm him and Laura quickly. With no options left, Harry took a fighting stance, awaiting their attack.
    A door on the opposite side of the hall opened suddenly. A man’s head appeared and whispered hoarsely, “This way.”
    He looked younger than the oncoming mob, and his clothes were better. After a moment’s hesitation, Harry took his wife’s arm and brushed past the young man into the room. The door closed behind them. A lock clicked. Harry started to speak but the young man put a finger to his lips.
    Something shuffled and bumped softly against the door. Muffled voices muttered. Laura gasped.
    “Don’t worry, they can’t get in here,” the young man whispered.
    Harry waited several minutes until the shuffling and mumbling in the hall faded. Then he said, “I think they’ve gone. Is there another way out?”
    “Yes. I can show you.”
    “Who are you, anyway?”
    “My name is Quilty. We’ll have time for introductions later.”
    “I didn’t see another way out.”
    “Trust me, I know how to get out of here.”
    “Let’s go then.”
    “Only one of you at a time. There’s a passage but it’s too narrow for all of us.”
    “I don’t see how—”
    “It’s the only way.” The urgency in the young man’s voice stilled Harry’s doubts. “Who’s coming