Evil Jester Digest, Vol.1 by Peter Giglio (Editor) Page B
Authors: Peter Giglio (Editor)
first.”
“You go, Laura.”
She looked at Harry and shook her head slightly.
“Go ahead,” he told her. “I’ll be right behind you.” And to Quilty, “Won’t I?”
“Sure. Come on, lady, we have to move fast.”
Quilty opened the door carefully and put his head out. He looked both ways and said over his shoulder, “All clear. Let’s go.”
He took Laura’s arm, and with a last worried look at her husband, she let the young man lead her out into the hall. The door closed softly behind them.
Harry paced the floor. He rubbed away the dust on the window pane. This one looked out on the drab backs of the weathered buildings and the weed grown patch that separated them from the desert. Then he began to think.
What was this secret passageway all about? Why had he not seen it? And what about it being so narrow only one of them could go at a time. The moment had been so stressful he had not been thinking logically. Who the hell was this Quilty? Where did he come from? Why should he trust the man?
Suddenly chilled, Harry pushed open the door and stepped into the hall. Nobody was in sight. And no passageway, narrow or otherwise. But the door of the room across the hall was now slightly ajar. He knew he had tried that door when they were running from the mob but had been unable to move it.
He stepped across the hall, pushed the door fully open and froze. Laura was half-lying on the bed with her blouse torn away. Quilty was leaning over her.
“What the hell?!” Harry blurted.
Quilty looked up and it was immediately clear that this was not a sexual attack. Blood spilled over his lower lip, down his chin, and dripped onto Laura’s exposed bra. She made a whimpering sound and held out a hand toward her husband.
Never really a man of action, something exploded in Harry’s head. He sprang across the space between them, seized Quilty by the shirt front and threw him to the floor. Blinded by rage, he battered the young man’s face with his fists again, and again, and again. Flesh shredded and bones splintered under his hammering. Broken teeth ripped the skin on Harry’s knuckles. Still he kept on hitting and hitting, until he became aware of Laura’s hand on his shoulder.
She knelt behind him. “Stop it, Harry. I think you’ve killed him.”
Harry stared down at the ruined face of the young man. “I wanted to hurt him, but…”
“Look at your poor hands.” Laura ripped away the loose flap of her blouse and used it to blot the blood from his knuckles. Gently she kissed his wounds. “You were very brave.”
For the first time he looked at his wife and winced at the raw wound in the flesh between her neck and the point of her shoulder.
“Jesus, what did that bastard do to you?”
“Never mind. It’ll be all right.”
Harry looked around for something to use as a bandage. He rejected the soiled bedclothes and ripped off his own shirt. It was damp with sweat but better than nothing. He pressed it on the wound and felt the warmth of her raw flesh. “Can you hold that in place?”
She nodded.
“We have to get away from here. Now.” He stood shakily and helped Laura to her feet. Cautiously he opened the door to the hall and looked toward the stairway. “Nobody’s there now. Can you make it?”
She nodded again, giving him an off-center smile.
He walked the length of the hallway, checking on all sides. As he suspected, there was no hidden passage. At the stairway he descended several steps and scanned the lobby. No one visible there either. He beckoned Laura to follow and continued cautiously down into the lobby. Incredibly, it was as empty as the upstairs. Nor could he see anyone outside the broken front door. It was as though people who had menaced them had simply vanished. He took Laura’s free hand and led her out past the desk, through the door, onto the street. A pall of yellow dust lingered in the air. Still there was no sign of life. He coughed and led his wife in the direction he
“You go, Laura.”
She looked at Harry and shook her head slightly.
“Go ahead,” he told her. “I’ll be right behind you.” And to Quilty, “Won’t I?”
“Sure. Come on, lady, we have to move fast.”
Quilty opened the door carefully and put his head out. He looked both ways and said over his shoulder, “All clear. Let’s go.”
He took Laura’s arm, and with a last worried look at her husband, she let the young man lead her out into the hall. The door closed softly behind them.
Harry paced the floor. He rubbed away the dust on the window pane. This one looked out on the drab backs of the weathered buildings and the weed grown patch that separated them from the desert. Then he began to think.
What was this secret passageway all about? Why had he not seen it? And what about it being so narrow only one of them could go at a time. The moment had been so stressful he had not been thinking logically. Who the hell was this Quilty? Where did he come from? Why should he trust the man?
Suddenly chilled, Harry pushed open the door and stepped into the hall. Nobody was in sight. And no passageway, narrow or otherwise. But the door of the room across the hall was now slightly ajar. He knew he had tried that door when they were running from the mob but had been unable to move it.
He stepped across the hall, pushed the door fully open and froze. Laura was half-lying on the bed with her blouse torn away. Quilty was leaning over her.
“What the hell?!” Harry blurted.
Quilty looked up and it was immediately clear that this was not a sexual attack. Blood spilled over his lower lip, down his chin, and dripped onto Laura’s exposed bra. She made a whimpering sound and held out a hand toward her husband.
Never really a man of action, something exploded in Harry’s head. He sprang across the space between them, seized Quilty by the shirt front and threw him to the floor. Blinded by rage, he battered the young man’s face with his fists again, and again, and again. Flesh shredded and bones splintered under his hammering. Broken teeth ripped the skin on Harry’s knuckles. Still he kept on hitting and hitting, until he became aware of Laura’s hand on his shoulder.
She knelt behind him. “Stop it, Harry. I think you’ve killed him.”
Harry stared down at the ruined face of the young man. “I wanted to hurt him, but…”
“Look at your poor hands.” Laura ripped away the loose flap of her blouse and used it to blot the blood from his knuckles. Gently she kissed his wounds. “You were very brave.”
For the first time he looked at his wife and winced at the raw wound in the flesh between her neck and the point of her shoulder.
“Jesus, what did that bastard do to you?”
“Never mind. It’ll be all right.”
Harry looked around for something to use as a bandage. He rejected the soiled bedclothes and ripped off his own shirt. It was damp with sweat but better than nothing. He pressed it on the wound and felt the warmth of her raw flesh. “Can you hold that in place?”
She nodded.
“We have to get away from here. Now.” He stood shakily and helped Laura to her feet. Cautiously he opened the door to the hall and looked toward the stairway. “Nobody’s there now. Can you make it?”
She nodded again, giving him an off-center smile.
He walked the length of the hallway, checking on all sides. As he suspected, there was no hidden passage. At the stairway he descended several steps and scanned the lobby. No one visible there either. He beckoned Laura to follow and continued cautiously down into the lobby. Incredibly, it was as empty as the upstairs. Nor could he see anyone outside the broken front door. It was as though people who had menaced them had simply vanished. He took Laura’s free hand and led her out past the desk, through the door, onto the street. A pall of yellow dust lingered in the air. Still there was no sign of life. He coughed and led his wife in the direction he