Read Online The Cellar by Richard Laymon - Free Book Online

the counter, probably searching for a trash container. Finding none, he stuffed the ball into his shirt pocket. He clamped the cigar between his teeth. His eyes swung suddenly toward Donna. They fixed upon her, held her stunned like a doe in headlights. The eyes stayed on her while the man struck a match and sucked its flame to the tip of his cigar. He shook out the match. Then he turned, and pushed through the door.
    Donna let out a deep, trembling breath.
    “You okay?” Sandy asked.
    “I’m fine.”
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing. Everything’s fine.”
    “You don’t look so fine.”
    “Are you about done eating?”
    “All done,” Sandy said.
    “Ready to go?”
    “ I am. Aren’t you gonna finish?”
    “No, I don’t think so. Let’s be on our way.” She picked up the bill. Her hand shook as she reachedinto her purse. She tucked three quarters under the edge of her plate, and got up quickly.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “I just want to get outside.”
    “Okay,” the girl said doubtfully as she followed Donna to the cash register.
    Outside, Donna looked down the sidewalk. A block off, an old woman with a poodle was stepping awkwardly off a curb. No sign of the two men from the cafe. She checked the other direction.
    “What’re you looking for?” Sandy asked.
    “Just trying to decide which way looks best.”
    “We’ve already been that way,” the girl said, and nodded toward the left.
    “Okay.” So they turned right, and began walking.
    “Do you think we can leave this morning?” Sandy asked.
    “I don’t know how long it’ll be. I think we’re a good hour or so from where we left the car. The girl at the motel didn’t say what time Axel went to get it.”
    “If we aren’t gonna leave right away, can we go see Beast House?”
    “I don’t know, honey.”
    “It’s half-price for me.”
    “Are you certain you really want to see a place like that?”
    “What is it?”
    “It’s supposed to be the home of a horrible beast that kills people and tears them up. It’swhere those three people were murdered a few weeks ago.”
    “Oooh, that place?”
    “Yes indeed.”
    “Wow! Can we see it?”
    “I’m not sure I’m up to it.”
    “Oh come on. We’re almost there. Please?”
    “Well, it wouldn’t hurt to see what time the tours start.”
3.
    Standing at the northern corner of the wrought-iron fence, Donna looked at the bleak, weathered house and felt a reluctance to approach it.
    “I’m not sure I want to do this, honey.”
    “You said we can check on the tours.”
    “I’m not sure I want to go in there, at all.”
    “Why not?”
    Donna shrugged, unwilling to put words to her dark chill. “I don’t know,” she said.
    She moved her eyes from the slanted bay window to the veranda with its balustraded balcony overhead, past a gable to a tower at the south end. The tower windows reflected emptiness. Its roof was a steep cone: a witch’s cap.
    “Afraid it’ll gross you out?”
    “Your language is enough to gross me out.”
    Sandy laughed, and adjusted her slipping sunglasses.
    “Okay, we’ll have a look at the tour schedule. But I’m not guaranteeing anything.” They started toward the ticket booth.
    “I’ll go alone, if you’re scared.”
    “You will not go in there alone, young lady.”
    “It’s half-price for me.”
    “That’s not the point.”
    “What is? ”
    You might never come out, Donna suddenly thought. She took a deep breath. The air, scented like high mountain pine, calmed her.
    “What is the point?”
    Donna made her grin as evil as she could, and muttered, “I don’t want the beast to eat you.”
    “You’re awful!”
    “Not as awful as the beast.”
    “Mother!” Laughing, Sandy swung her denim handbag.
    Donna blocked it with her forearm, looked up, and saw the man from the cafe. His eyes were on her. Smiling at him, Donna fought off another assault by her daughter.
    She saw a blue ticket in his hand.
    “Okay, honey, that’s enough. We’ll go