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Authors: William Bernhardt
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across the stage and probably well into the audience.
Diane was in the wings on the other side of the stage. “Start the show!” she said, shaking a black-gloved fist at Ben.
“I have to see!” Ben hissed back.
“The show’s started!” Earl bellowed. “Leave it alone!”
Ben ignored him. He reached up even higher and grabbed the lamp with one hand. It seemed unusually heavy; he could barely budge it. Gritting his teeth, he jerked it forward with all his might…
Something tumbled off the top of the stage light, something big and bulky. Ben gasped and ducked, but not in time. Screams erupted from the audience as the large burden spilled off the lamp and directly on top of Ben. It knocked him off the piano bench like a wet sandbag; both Ben and bundle fell to earth in one heavy thud.
Ben felt the air rush out of his lungs. He blinked his eyes, fighting to retain consciousness.
It was the screams that brought him back. They had intensified and diversified; he heard screams of fright, but also panic and disgust. He heard feet scuffling, people moving away as fast as possible.
He shook his head, forcing himself back into the world of the living. What the hell was going on? And why wasn’t anyone coming to help him?
He pushed himself up on one elbow, and that was when, for the first time, he got a clear look at the bundle that had tumbled down on top of him.
It was unfortunate, he thought in retrospect, that he had to see the face first. There she was, ashen and cold, dark hair hanging limply on either side of her face, which was expressionless save for the ghastly red smile that had been carved upon it.
Chapter 9
B EN TRIED TO pull away, but he was pinned down by the dead weight of the body. His eyes widened like saucers; his breathing came short and fast.
Omigod, omigod, omigod …
He clawed the stage, desperate to escape, but he couldn’t gain any ground. He was stuck like a bug in a science fair project, with that horrible face staring at him, that ghastly smile, caked blood lining the edges like lipstick.
Uncle Earl ran out on the stage. “Listen to me, cats!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Don’t panic! That won’t do no one no good!”
Nobody was listening. It was a virtual stampede. People had panicked, particularly those sitting toward the front. They were climbing on tables, clawing at the walls, knocking down whoever was in their way.
“Shut the doors!” Earl shouted.
Someone up front, probably the bouncer, obeyed. Several people collided into the doors, but they were shut and locked tight.
“There now!” Earl boomed. “There’s nowhere for you to go. So sit down already, before you hurt somebody!”
The news of the futility of flight seemed to have the desired calming effect. Gradually the panic subsided and the screaming stopped. Although, Ben noted, none of the front-row patrons reclaimed their seats.
“Thank heaven for that,” Earl said, wiping his brow.
“Amen,” Ben echoed. “And now, Earl, if you don’t mind or anything, now that you’ve got the crowd under control … could someone please get me out of here ?”
Earl ran to his side; Scat dropped his sax and did the same. Gordo and Denny both stayed where they were, and judging from the queasy expressions on their faces, Ben thought it was probably just as well.
The men grabbed Ben by the shoulders and pulled him free of the body. “Thank you very much,” Ben muttered. He jumped to his feet and began brushing himself off. He didn’t know exactly what he was brushing off, but he knew that he desperately wanted to brush himself off.
“First time you’ve ever seen a stiff, kid?” Scat asked.
“Not even close,” Ben replied. “But they don’t usually knock me off the piano bench.”
He turned to thank Earl, but saw that Earl was looking down, staring blank-faced at the corpse.
“Oh, no,” Earl whispered, barely audibly. “Oh, no.”
Ben felt a hollow aching in the pit of his stomach. “Is
Diane was in the wings on the other side of the stage. “Start the show!” she said, shaking a black-gloved fist at Ben.
“I have to see!” Ben hissed back.
“The show’s started!” Earl bellowed. “Leave it alone!”
Ben ignored him. He reached up even higher and grabbed the lamp with one hand. It seemed unusually heavy; he could barely budge it. Gritting his teeth, he jerked it forward with all his might…
Something tumbled off the top of the stage light, something big and bulky. Ben gasped and ducked, but not in time. Screams erupted from the audience as the large burden spilled off the lamp and directly on top of Ben. It knocked him off the piano bench like a wet sandbag; both Ben and bundle fell to earth in one heavy thud.
Ben felt the air rush out of his lungs. He blinked his eyes, fighting to retain consciousness.
It was the screams that brought him back. They had intensified and diversified; he heard screams of fright, but also panic and disgust. He heard feet scuffling, people moving away as fast as possible.
He shook his head, forcing himself back into the world of the living. What the hell was going on? And why wasn’t anyone coming to help him?
He pushed himself up on one elbow, and that was when, for the first time, he got a clear look at the bundle that had tumbled down on top of him.
It was unfortunate, he thought in retrospect, that he had to see the face first. There she was, ashen and cold, dark hair hanging limply on either side of her face, which was expressionless save for the ghastly red smile that had been carved upon it.
Chapter 9
B EN TRIED TO pull away, but he was pinned down by the dead weight of the body. His eyes widened like saucers; his breathing came short and fast.
Omigod, omigod, omigod …
He clawed the stage, desperate to escape, but he couldn’t gain any ground. He was stuck like a bug in a science fair project, with that horrible face staring at him, that ghastly smile, caked blood lining the edges like lipstick.
Uncle Earl ran out on the stage. “Listen to me, cats!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Don’t panic! That won’t do no one no good!”
Nobody was listening. It was a virtual stampede. People had panicked, particularly those sitting toward the front. They were climbing on tables, clawing at the walls, knocking down whoever was in their way.
“Shut the doors!” Earl shouted.
Someone up front, probably the bouncer, obeyed. Several people collided into the doors, but they were shut and locked tight.
“There now!” Earl boomed. “There’s nowhere for you to go. So sit down already, before you hurt somebody!”
The news of the futility of flight seemed to have the desired calming effect. Gradually the panic subsided and the screaming stopped. Although, Ben noted, none of the front-row patrons reclaimed their seats.
“Thank heaven for that,” Earl said, wiping his brow.
“Amen,” Ben echoed. “And now, Earl, if you don’t mind or anything, now that you’ve got the crowd under control … could someone please get me out of here ?”
Earl ran to his side; Scat dropped his sax and did the same. Gordo and Denny both stayed where they were, and judging from the queasy expressions on their faces, Ben thought it was probably just as well.
The men grabbed Ben by the shoulders and pulled him free of the body. “Thank you very much,” Ben muttered. He jumped to his feet and began brushing himself off. He didn’t know exactly what he was brushing off, but he knew that he desperately wanted to brush himself off.
“First time you’ve ever seen a stiff, kid?” Scat asked.
“Not even close,” Ben replied. “But they don’t usually knock me off the piano bench.”
He turned to thank Earl, but saw that Earl was looking down, staring blank-faced at the corpse.
“Oh, no,” Earl whispered, barely audibly. “Oh, no.”
Ben felt a hollow aching in the pit of his stomach. “Is
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