“A reminder, guys, that the next three weeks Armada Avenue will be under construction due to a lane widening project. We've been advised to use Moorland Road as an alternate route whenever possible.” The man's eyes referred to his papers once again. “If any of you haven't filled out and signed the forms for the new health insurance company do so as soon as possible. They have to be into headquarters by five o'clock on Friday night.”

“Hope you got yours in, Gage. You know what I always say. Johnny without an injury is like a day without sunshine.”

“I hope you got yours in too, Kelly,” Johnny shot back. “'Cause when I get through pounding on you, you'll have the honor of making the very first claim.”

“Oh, right. Like I believe anyone is gonna beat you to that.”

Johnny leaned forward in his seat and pointed a finger. “Listen, Chet, just because--”

“Boys, boys,” Hank held up a firm hand, long ago having learned the only way to treat Chet and Johnny when they got like this was as if they were little boys. “That's enough. May I continue please?”

“Sure, Cap,” Johnny agreed, while shooting Chet one final glare.

“Yeah, Cap, go ahead,” Chet said, but not before he'd crossed his eyes at Johnny.

“Now, onto the final item. This is the second year the fire department is sponsoring their haunted house. Last year we didn't have to participate because of our shift schedule, and the fact that the department was overflowing with volunteers wanting to lend a hand. This year; however, is a different story.”

Two and half years earlier the fire department had purchased a rambling old Victorian home on three acres of land that was about to be condemned. A large number of department personnel, including Johnny, had offered their skills to fix rotting floorboards, sagging walls, and the leaking roof, then convert the structure into a haunted house. The house was open every evening for the eight days prior to Halloween. It cost two dollars to enter, with the proceeds going toward the department's annual Christmas toy campaign and Breakfast with Santa held each December for underprivileged children.

“Participate how, Cap?” Marco asked.

“We've been assigned to work the house on Halloween night.”

A slow grin spread across Johnny's face. “Cool.”

Marco smiled, nodding his agreement. He and Johnny were the only two men from A-shift who had actually seen the end results of the haunted house the previous year. Marco had taken three of his nephews through the house one evening, and Johnny had taken Chris and Jennifer DeSoto through the Saturday night before Halloween.

“It's that good, huh?” Chet asked.

“Better than good,” Marco said. “My nephews were terrified, but they loved it.”

“Yeah, Chris and Jenn, too.” Johnny said. “They loved it even though Jennifer barely brought her face up from my shoulder the whole time we were in there, and I think Chris squeezed all the blood from my hand.”

Roy didn't bother to remind his partner what happened later that evening. A week before the outing Johnny had offered to take the kids to the haunted house and told Roy they could spend the night at his apartment. Roy and Joanne never refused a rare Saturday night alone, so had readily agreed to the arrangement, though Joanne was a little concerned that a haunted house might be too frightening for her six and eight year olds. But Johnny's persuasive skills won out on this issue, and finally Joanne agreed that Johnny could take the children to the old house he'd worked so hard to convert into a palace of Halloween horrors.

By one o'clock the next morning Johnny learned what effects Halloween horrors could have on impressionable children. Jennifer woke up screaming from a nightmare, while a trembling Chris confessed that he never had fallen asleep because there were lots of “Scary noises in your apartment, Uncle Johnny.” Both kids ended up in Johnny's bed. By two o'clock the DeSoto children were fast asleep, and it was Uncle Johnny who was making use of the sleeping bags they'd been tucked into on his bedroom floor some four hours earlier. Chris was a bed hog, and Jennifer kicked in her sleep, leaving Johnny to make a very painful mental note to give her future husband advice to always sleep with his back to her.

“But Uncle Johnny didn't love that haunted house so much when he ended up trying to finish out the night on top of a Bionic Woman sleeping bag with The Six Million Dollar Man covering him,” Roy reminded his partner now.

“The haunted house was a little too scary for the kids, huh, Pal?” Cap asked Johnny.

“Maybe. But like I said, they loved it. What kid doesn't love to be scared?”

“True,” Hank agreed, as he glanced back down at his paper. “Especially when you consider the department made three thousand dollars on this project last year. That means a lot of kids, and their parents, had to walk through that front door. This year they hope to make even more. And that's where we come in.”

“What do they want us to do, Cap?” Mike asked. “Sell tickets?”

“Nope.”

“Run the refreshment stand?” Roy asked.

“Nope.”

“Direct traffic?” came Chet's question.

“Nope. None of the above. They want us to be dressed up and 'act' as various characters.”

Johnny grinned. “You mean we actually get to scare people?”

Chet rubbed his hands together with glee. “All right!”

“My nephews are gonna go wild when I tell them Uncle Marco gets to be one of the 'scary guys' this year.”

“I'm sure they will,” Hank agreed. “My daughters think it's the neatest thing they've ever heard of.”

“What's that, Cap?” Mike asked, knowing Hank's daughters were now fifteen and seventeen years old.

"That their old man is actually going to dress up on Halloween. Evidentially they've assumed I'm too 'square' to have any fun. Or at least that's how they put it when they heard me and Maggie discussing it.”

Chet stood to refill his coffee cup. “What are you gonna dress as, Cap?”

“What the department has assigned me to.”

“Huh?”

“We've all been assigned our roles by someone in the PR office.”

“Oh.” Chet shrugged, as he sat back down. “Oh, well...I guess that's okay. I mean, I suppose it makes it easier than having to come up with something ourselves.”

“Exactly. So listen up as I read these off to you.” Hank's eyes traveled to his memo once again. “Gage, you'll be Dracula.”

Johnny smirked while giving a satisfied nod. He was already picturing the number of eligible young women he could nip on the neck and not get slugged for it. “I like that.”

“DeSoto, you're the Wolfman.”

Johnny laughed. “I knew those hairy arms of yours would come in handy for something one of these days, partner.”

Roy simply rolled his eyes at his friend while their captain continued.

“Stoker, you're Frankenstein. Lopez, you're the Mummy. I'm Igor, the headless doorman. And Kelly, you're a troll.”

“A troll!”

Johnny burst out laughing. “Oh, that's wonderful. Perfect casting.”

“Shut up, Gage.” Chet turned pleading eyes to his captain. “Cap, I don't wanna be a troll.”

“Sorry, Pal, but that's what your assignment is.”

“But it's not fair! Mike gets to be Frankenstein. And Roy gets to be the Wolfman. And Marco gets to be the Mummy. And Gage gets to be Dracula. And you get to be the headless doorman. Who the heck ever heard of a troll at Halloween? Why can't I be something cool like you guys get to be?”

“Don't know. Maybe you ticked off someone at headquarters.”

Johnny stood, patting Chet on the back as he walked by him.

“Just goes to show ya, Chester B.”

“Just goes to show me what?”

“You're always teasing me about how often I'm at headquarters filing an injury claim, but now you know why it pays to have friends in high places.” Johnny laughed as he and his co-workers headed to the engine bay. “A troll. You get to be the short, dumpy little troll who hides under the bridge. Gee, who ever heard of a kid being afraid of a stupid troll. That was the only thing about the haunted house that made Jenn laugh.”

Chet slumped in his chair and buried his chin in his hands.

“Great,” the man mumbled. “You guys get to be scary, and all I'm gonna get is laughed at.”

Roy walked to the sink to dump out his cold coffee.

“Oh, come on, Chet. It won't be that bad. Jennifer loved the troll. That's all she talked about for weeks after Johnny took her to the haunted house.”

“But I don't want kids to love me. I want 'em to be scared of me.”

Before Roy could reply the klaxons sounded, summoning both the squad and the engine.

“A troll,” Chet muttered under his breath as he dashed from the kitchen. “A stupid troll. I bet Gage had something to do with this. And if I find out he did, I swear the Phantom will make this one Halloween he'll never forget.”

The men ran into the locker room. Marco grinned. "Wow, Chet, I guess the brass knew what they were doing when they made you the troll."

"Yeah," added Johnny. He more closely examined one of the small dolls. "Wow, Chet. The resemblance is remarkable."

Marco took a closer look at Chet's locker. "Aren't you supposed to rub their stomachs for good luck?" He extended an arm out toward Chet's abdomen.

Chet swatted Marco's arm out of the way and glared at the firefighter. "You did this, Gage," accused Chet. "Don't try to worm out of it."

Johnny put his hand on his chest. "Moi, Chet?" He shook his head. "I had nothing to do with it. Roy and I haven't gone near a toy store. Whoever did it, sure has a great imagination."

"Yeah, right Gage," said Chet as he started to take down the little dolls. "I've got a bridge in Brooklyn I'd like to sell you." He pointed at Johnny. "Just wait. The Phantom knows all, sees all. The Phantom will strike back."

"Well," added Hank. "Make sure the Phantom doesn't get too carried away. We've got a group of boy scouts coming through this afternoon, and I don't want them to see anything like that on their tour. Got it?"

Chet nodded. "Don't worry, Cap." He shifted his attention to Johnny. "It might not be today, Gage. But, mark my words. The Phantom will strike back."

"Oh, I'm sooo scared," Johnny rolled his eyes and walked out of the locker room.

"Don't you think you're going a little too far, Chet?" asked Roy. "It's not like he blasted you with water, or shaving cream."

Chet sighed and watched the rest of the guys left. "I know, Roy. Maybe I am overreacting." A smile played at his lips. "It was a little funny. But it's just that...a troll? They're short, ugly and dumb. They're not very scary, and heroes have them for breakfast. Even an ogre would've been more fun."

Roy nodded. "Well, maybe you can think of a way to be a really scary troll." He shrugged. "I'm sure you'll think of something. They'll probably have you jump out at people as they walk by. Maybe you can carry something...like a club, or something really gross." Roy rubbed his nose. "I'm sure you'll think of something.

"Thanks, Roy. I'll have to see what I can come up with." Chet shoved the troll figures to the back of his locker. He picked up the mop as Roy left, and continued his chore.

"Man, it's after 1:00. No wonder I'm starving," he commented.

"Yeah, and they probably didn't save us much," Roy commiserated.

"Hey, Roy, let's stop at that little sandwich shop we went to that one time. The one in the strip mall off Sepulveda."

"I second that idea." Roy changed lanes to prepare for the turn. Johnny gave a self-satisfied smile.

The paramedics ambled into the shop and placed their orders. Roy thought his partner seemed unusually restless, even for Johnny. He paced around, glancing out the plate glass window and then back to the free newspaper racks. "Hey, Roy, I'll be right back," Johnny said cryptically. Before Roy could respond, his partner was out the door.

Roy sat and shook his head. You'd better be. We're available.

The sandwiches were finished and Roy paid. He took the paper bags and headed outside. Johnny was just coming back down the sidewalk from destinations unknown. He walked briskly, almost trotting. Roy got into the squad and Johnny followed, breathless.

"You owe me $2.25," Roy said as he thrust the bag at Johnny's chest.

"Oh, yeah," Johnny muttered. He fumbled his wallet out of his back pocket and dug around for the correct change.

Roy pulled into traffic and headed to the station. He didn't pay much attention as Johnny pulled the small package out of his front pocket and unfolded it. The dark-haired man continued toying with something distractedly.

"Hey, Roy?" Johnny said in a low, slow voice.

Roy eased the squad to a stop at the red light. He glanced over and did a double take.

"Not bad, eh?" Johnny coaxed, a slight slur in his voice. He maintained the wide grin that revealed the false fangs he'd fitted onto his real teeth.

Roy rolled his eyes and suppressed a grin. "Yeah, those are...real sharp, Johnny." He snorted, unable to hold back his amusement.

"Oh, fangs a lot, Roy," Johnny quipped. He, too, lapsed into laughter

Joanne was bent over the sewing machine she kept in the fourth bedroom of her home that the kids normally used as a playroom. She hadn't anticipated making any costumes this year. Chris had decided to go as a football player, meaning the LA Rams helmet and jersey he had would be easy to supplement with the pair of football knickers she'd found at Goodwill, and shoulder pads pulled from the attic that Roy wore during his high school playing days. Jennifer wanted to be a “friendly ghost” as she put it, like one of her favorite cartoon characters, Casper. That ghost costume hadn't involved more than Joanne hemming a white sheet, putting an elastic band at the neck so the costume would stay on the little girl, and cutting holes for her eyes, nose, and mouth.

Joanne thought her Halloween contributions were finished in the hour it took her to costume her daughter, until Roy came home and told her of the parts Station 51's A-shift would play at the department's haunted house. Now Joanne found herself making a cape for Dracula while at the same time mentally designing a costume befitting her Wolfman. Not that she minded. This was the trade-off for being able to stay home with her children on a fulltime basis. Her way of thinking might be deemed old-fashioned by the current changes society was going through in terms of women in the work place, but until Chris and Jennifer were out of high school she preferred her role of homemaker to any other.

Joanne smiled when her husband approached her from behind and planted a kiss on her cheek. Roy gave his wife's hunched shoulders a gentle massage, then took a seat on the sofa bed.

“How are the costumes coming along?”

“Johnny's is coming along fine,” Joanne said over the hum of the sewing machine. “There's not much to making a cape. I'm still thinking about yours. I went to the library yesterday and looked up some pictures of wolfmen from old movies. I think a pair of your old jeans and a flannel shirt will work fine, but we have to figure out how to make you hairier.”

“Hairier?” Johnny asked as he came into the room. “You need to make him hairier?

Joanne chuckled at her husband's partner. The two men were off work today, and in exchange for Joanne making his cape Johnny had offered to help Roy clean the gutters, replace a cracked window frame, and fix a leaky faucet.

“Believe it or not, Johnny, I do. But I'm just not sure how.”

“Sheep's wool.”

“Pardon me?”

“Sheep's wool. If I got you some wool could you do something with it?”

Joanne turned in her seat to face Johnny.

“I think so. I want to attach it to his arms, chest, head, and face. I can do that with elastic straps if I can sew a backing of some sort on the wool. But I'll probably have to die it a shade of red. White won't look right.”

“No need. I can get you red wool.”

“How?”

“A buddy of mine back home is a sheep rancher. He raises Red Engadine among other breeds.”

“Red Enga....”

“Engadine.”

“There's really a breed of sheep whose wool is red?”

“Sure. Several, as a matter of fact. But this will be perfect because it's kind of a reddish brown.”

“Wait a minute here.” Roy held up one hand. “Isn't anyone going to ask me if I'm willing to wear bug infested sheep's wool in the first place?”

“No,” Joanne responded, with a teasing lilt to her voice. “I'm the costume designer. You'll wear what I put on you.”

“Besides, it won't be bug infested,” Johnny promised. “It'll be washed before it's sent here.”

Roy raised a skeptical eyebrow, already imagining himself itching all of Halloween night, and for God knows how many days afterwards. “You're sure?”

“Sure I'm sure. I have no idea how many sheep I sheered when I was a teenager, but believe me, it was a lot. And I washed a heck of a lot of wool, too.”

“I didn't know your father had sheep, Johnny,” Joanne said.

“He doesn't. He's a cattleman. Won't allow a sheep on the place. Probably shoot one if he saw it. But at sheering time I worked for a neighbor who had sheep. It was a good way to make some extra spending money.”

Johnny's hidden talents never ceased to amaze Roy. Unless you took the time to really get to know Johnny you'd never guess he was as skilled, or as knowledgeable, about a variety of subjects as he was.

“How soon do you think your friend can get the wool to us?” Joanne asked.

“Within a week or so. I'll call him when I get home. You won't need much, so this should be easy for him.”

Joanne couldn't keep the excitement out of her voice. Whenever she hit on an idea for a project she loved to see it through to the end.

“That's great. Oh, and tell him I'll pay for the shipping costs, and whatever he wants for the wool.”

“No, no,” Johnny shook his head. “I'll take care of that. You won't let me pay you for the time you're putting in on my cape, so it's the least I can do in return.”

Joanne would have argued that further by pointing out Johnny was helping Roy today for the exact reason he'd just stated, as repayment for her working on his cape, but she knew she'd get nowhere with her husband's stubborn partner, so didn't pursue the subject. Instead, she stood and lifted the cape.

“Here. Let me put this around you. I don't have the collar done yet, so there's no way to tie it, but I want to make sure it's long enough.”

Johnny crossed the room and bent at the knees so Joanne could wrap the cape around his neck. The outside was a sleek black, the inside red satin.

“You're going to be the most handsome Dracula the girls have ever seen.”

Johnny grinned. “I hope so.”

“What are you wearing under this?”

Roy grinned. “Probably nothing if he thinks he can get away with it.”

Joanne laughed while Johnny blushed.

“Yeah, well...I don't think that will work considering the haunted house is advertised as 'fun for the whole family.' So, in that case I'm wearing black pants, a white shirt, and a black tie.”

“What kind of a tie?” Joanne asked, as her eyes traveled the full cape to make sure it fit her husband's partner and reached his shins like she had intended for it to do. “Stand up straight, Johnny. There. That's better. So, like I said. What kind of a tie?”

“A tie, tie. You know. Just a regular tie.”

“I've got a better idea. I can make you an ascot tie out of material leftover from this cape. How's that sound?”

“Fancy, and kind of snobbish to tell you the truth.”

“Exactly. And that's just what Count Dracula was. Fancy and snobbish.” Joanne took the cape off the man and draped it over her arm. “You come over the afternoon of Halloween and get dressed here. I'll do your makeup.”

“Makeup?” Johnny squeaked. He appreciated all Joanne was doing for him, but he wasn't sure makeup was something he wanted to partake in.

“Sure. We'll want to slick your hair back with some gel, then draw pointed sideburns with a black eyebrow pencil. Maybe even make your lips really red, and put mascara on your eyelashes.”

“Uh...listen, Joanne, I'm not sure--”

“Johnny, you want to be the best Dracula the fire department has ever seen, don't you?”

“Well...yeah.”

“Then makeup it is.”

Johnny turned pleading eyes to his partner.

“Don't look at me, Junior. You're the one who suggested I wear sheep's wool. If I've gotta itch all night you can wear a little makeup.”

“Yeah, but...but I don't...see, I'm just not....”

Joanne laughed at the stuttering man who was trying so hard not to hurt her feelings, while at the same time trying to say he had no desire to wear makeup.

“Don't worry, Johnny, I won't tell Chet.”

“Like he's not gonna notice.”

“He won't,” Roy assured. “He'll be too busy chasing kids over the bridge, and then sulking under it once they're gone.”

Johnny grinned at that thought.

“Yeah. I finally got Chet good, didn't I?”

“So it was you.”

“Yep. But don't tell Chet that.”

“How'd you pull it off?”

“Like I said the day Cap told us about this, it pays to have friends at department headquarters. I knew weeks before the rest of you that we were going to be asked to work the haunted house. I kind of arranged Chet's character so to speak.”

“I'll just bet you did.”

“Hey, don't look at me like that. He deserves it for everything he's done to me over the years.”

“And you're the one who hung the trolls in his locker, too, I suppose.”

“You bet.”

“You know, if he finds out--”

“He won't.”

“You'd better hope not.”

“How do trolls dress?” Joanne asked, in anticipation of receiving a call from Chet at the last minute for costume assistance.

“Old, ragged clothes,” Johnny replied. “Usually they carry cloth bags, too. That's supposed to be where they hide their tricks, and where they put their tolls.”

“Tolls?”

“Yeah. What they collect for letting someone cross their bridge. Or at least that's what the modern tales say. In Scandinavian folklore they're giants who possess magical powers and live in castles. They raiding villages at night and steal children in order to make them their servants.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about them,” Roy said.

“Pays to do your research when you're dealing with the Phantom, Roy.”

“If you say so.”

“Believe me, from past experience I know so.” Johnny turned his attention to Roy's wife. “Are you going to bring the kids to the haunted house?”

“I sure am. We'll come by after they're done trick-or-treating, though I may leave them with you for the night so Roy and I get to sleep without being awakened by anyone's nightmare.”

“Oh, it wasn't that bad,” Johnny downplayed of the events of the previous Halloween. “Just don't let Jenn in bed with you and you'll be fine.”

“Found out she kicks, huh?” Roy grinned.

“Yeah. In a rather painful way, too.”

“All right, guys, go on now,” Joanne shooed the two men from the room. “Let me finish my work here. The kids will be home from school in an hour and I wanted to have most of Johnny's cape done by then.”

The men headed for the kitchen and two cold beers while Joanne returned to her work. She smiled as she heard Roy warn Johnny once again about the Phantom's revenge, and as she heard Johnny make light of the possibility.

You'll never learn, will you, Johnny? The woman thought as she sewed. You're just too sweet natured to ever completely one-up the Phantom.

Joanne wondered what Chet's revenge would be when he found out Johnny had, indeed, been the motivating factor behind his part as troll at the haunted house. Whatever it was, Joanne hoped she wasn't around to see it unfold.

After all, Halloween was scary enough without the Phantom lurking about.

Charlie Dwyer sipped a beer. "Kelly, you sure are an obnoxious winner."

Chet grinned.

Dwyer stood up and headed to the lane. As he was choosing his ball, he said, "I hear Gage got ya pretty good, Chet."

Chet sat down behind the scoreboard. "What are you babbling about, Charlie?"

Dwyer looked up, holding his ball. "The troll thing. Stroke of genius. Our whole shift gave him two thumbs up for that idea."

The smile left Chet's face. "The troll thing?"

Dwyer laughed. "Didn't think he could pull that one off."

Chet stood and looked at Dwyer. "You mean to tell me it's GAGE'S fault that I have to be a troll?"

Dwyer nodded, still snickering. "Come on, Headquarters never ASSIGNED parts for the funhouse. Gage got his buddy Ed Douglas to do that. A troll....I can't wait to come see ya, Chet. The whole department will turn up for this one." He was still laughing to himself as he headed for the lane.

Chet slowly sank into his seat. His eyes narrowed. So, the worm turns, huh? Not for long, Johnny, my boy. You have awakened the wrath...of the PHANTOM!

He forgot about the game as his mind whirled with ways that he could make this Halloween house one that 'Dracula' would never forget.

Chet smiled as he slid into a red vinyl booth.

Sister Mary Patrick thought she could beat the Devil out of me with her ruler. Or so she said every time I put chalk in her erasers, or hid her pointer, or set the classroom clock ahead, or put ants in Kathy O'Malley's lunch box. Well, Sister, I hate to tell you this, but twenty years later the Phantom still reigns.

It had been four days since Chet had bowled with Charlie Dwyer and discovered that his part as a troll at the haunted house was, in fact, Johnny's doing. Chet had yet to tell anyone he had this knowledge, not even Marco. He'd been mulling over revenge tactics and quickly decided the usual things--water balloons, a pie in the face, itching powder in Johnny's bunk, just wouldn't do. This time revenge had to be big. And sweet. Big and sweet both.

Chet allowed the young waitress to pour him a cup of coffee. The diner was old and held only eight booths plus a counter that sat twelve, but it was clean and had good food. Chet, Marco, and Mike sometimes met here for breakfast after they'd gone off-shift.

“A friend will be joining me in a minute.” Chet flipped over the cup across from him and watched as the girl filled it as well with the dark, steaming liquid.

“Would you like two menus?”

“Sure.”

By the time the blond girl was returning with the menus the bell over the door rang as another patron entered. Chet smiled and waved from the far back corner of the room.

“Hey, Bobby. Over here!”

A dark-headed man six feet four in height with a thick frame and hands the size of baseball mitts lumbered toward Chet. He plopped into the booth across from the fireman, pushing the table back a little in order to make room for his girth.

“Chester, old friend. How goes it?”

“Fine. How about with you?”

“Okay. How's your folks?”

“Good. And yours?”

“Same.”

“Ever get to the old neighborhood much?”

“Just when my mom's hosting holiday dinners, family gatherings...you know, that kind of stuff. Otherwise, not too much anymore.”

“Me either. Except, like you said, for birthday parties and the like at my folks' house.”

The two men stopped talking when the waitress approached. Chet gestured toward the menu.

“Pick anything you want. Supper's on me.”

Bob Sullivan raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“I don't remember you being this generous.”

“Yeah, well...maybe I've changed since we last got together.”

The man laughed. “Or maybe you want a favor.”

“Maybe,” Chet conceded. “But first, let's eat.”

Within seconds both men had decided on that day's special of roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans. Bob looked at Chet, then at the waitress. He held up two fingers. “As long as my old friend here is paying, make mine a double order. And I'll want a piece of apple pie for dessert. With ice cream.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Chet shook his head as the waitress walked away.

“Geez, Bobby, I'm a firefighter, remember? We don't make that much money.”

The garbage man shrugged as he reached for the glass sugar canister. He poured sugar into his coffee and stirred.

“I'm on the city payroll, too, you know. It's not as though I can afford to eat like this everyday. Especially with three kids. You want a favor, Chester, you gotta pay for it.”

Bob sipped the hot liquid, then set the cup down on the saucer. He rolled up the sleeves of his dark green uniform shirt, revealing a tattoo of a King Cobra poised to strike on his bulging right biceps.

“So, just what is it you want me to do?”

Chet leaned close, as though he was worried someone would overhear what he was about to say, which Bob found amusing considering that they were the only two people in the place.

“Do you still hang with that motorcycle gang?”

“We're not a gang. We're a club. We don't cause any trouble. Or at least not since our high school days.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Club. I meant club. But for just one night I need you to be more like a gang.”

“Why?”

“I need you to scare someone for me.”

Bob shook his head. “Chester, you'll never change. Wait till I tell Sister Mary Patrick that you're still up to your old tricks.”

“You see her?”

“Sure. She teaches second grade at St. Casmir's now. My oldest boy is in her class.”

“Poor kid. Hope his knuckles aren't as sore as mine were.”

“No one's knuckles could ever be as sore as yours were.”

“Probably not,” Chet acknowledged of the punishment that so often came his way.

Chet leaned back as the waitress set their food on the table. She refilled their coffee cups, then left the two men alone once more.

Bob cut into his roast beef. He forked off a chunk so large any other man would choke on it. “So, you want me to scare someone, huh?”

“Yeah,” Chet nodded around his mouthful of food. He swallowed, then told his friend about the fire department's haunted house and the stunt Johnny had pulled on him.

The garbage man laughed. “Sounds like this Gage guy got you good.”

“He did. But don't tell him I said that. And in return for him getting me good, I want you to get him good.”

“How?”

“I've been listening to him and Roy--his partner--talk. Sometime on Halloween afternoon Johnny's supposed to go to Roy's house to get ready for our stint that night. They'll head to the haunted house around four, but they're riding together in Johnny's vehicle so I can't have you do anything to him then. When we're done working at eleven--that's when the house closes--Gage will take Roy back to his house, probably shoot the bull for a few minutes in DeSoto's driveway, then head to his apartment. I figure it'll just be about the witching hour then.”

“The witching hour?”

“Midnight. So anyway, when Johnny's getting out of his Rover in the parking lot I want you guys to surround him and kidnap him.”

“Kidnap him?”

“Yeah.”

“You're puttin' me on.”

“No, I'm not. I really want you to kidnap him. Or pretend to kidnap him, that is.”

Bob grinned as he forked his mashed potatoes. “Gee, Chester, you sure have a mean streak. I'm supposed to pretend to kidnap a guy just because you have to dress like a troll?”

“Don't even say that stupid word to me.”

“What word?” Bob teased.

“Troll. I hate trolls. They're stupid, ugly, fat, and have made me the butt of every joke in every fire station in this county.”

“So after we 'kidnap' Gage what are we supposed to do with him?”

“Blindfold him, put him on the back of your bike, and bring him to my place. That's when I'll tell him it was a joke.”

Bob toyed with his beans while thinking a long moment. He wrinkled his nose with indecision.

“I don't know, Chester. What if he gets mad? I mean, really mad.”

“He won't. Oh, he might be kind of pissed off at first, but me and Johnny do stuff like this to each other all the time. He'll know he deserves it as soon as he sees me. Besides, I'll have plenty of cold beer and hot pizza on hand for all of us. Johnny never stays mad if he gets a free meal out of the deal.”

“You're sure?”

“I'm sure. He'll probably even know it's a joke right from the start. Right from when you guys surround him.”

“You think so?”

“Oh, yeah. Gage can be kinda slow on the uptake sometimes, but he'll figure out pretty quickly that the Phantom's getting his revenge.”

Bob shook a finger at his former schoolmate. “Sister Mary Patrick always told you the Phantom would be your undoing.”

“My captain tells me that, too, but it hasn't happened yet, old buddy.”

Bob cocked an eyebrow. “There's always a first time.”

“Nah. Never happen. The Phantom and me have been partners too long now for either one of us to abandon the other.” Chet reached into his shirt pocket. “Here. I wrote down Gage's address for you. He drives a white Land Rover. And here's a picture that was taken at the station a few months ago. He's the skinny one in the middle with the long, black hair.”

Bob studied the pictured, then put it and Johnny's address in his own shirt pocket.

“Should be easy enough. I don't imagine I'll have any trouble convincing half a dozen guys or so to have a little Halloween fun. Be kinda like when we were kids in the old neighborhood, huh?”

Chet smiled. “Yep. Just like that as a matter of fact.”

“We always had a great time on Halloween. I've never forgotten those days.”

“Me either. And with your help, Bobby, the Phantom will make this one Halloween John Gage will never forget.” Chet grinned at his friend, then beckoned to the waitress. “Miss, we're ready for that pie now.”

“Daddy's gonna look real scary when he's dressed as the Wolfman.”

“He certainly is.”

Jennifer glanced up at the door where Dracula's cap hung over one corner waiting to be ironed.

“And Uncle Johnny's gonna look scary, too.”

“Yes, he will,” Joanne acknowledged. She brought her eyes to her seven-year-old's face and smiled. “But it's just make-believe, sweetheart. Neither Daddy nor Uncle Johnny is going to hurt anyone. Underneath these costumes they'll still just be Daddy and Uncle Johnny.”

“I know. And Uncle Johnny promised not to scare me when we go through the haunted house. He said I'd know it's him 'cause he'll give me a hug and call me Jenny Bean, and not even bite my neck one time.”

Joanne laughed. “Then it sounds like you're a lucky girl who has a date with Dracula on Halloween night.”

“Yep. That's what I've been tellin' all my friends, too. And you know what?”

“No. What?”

“Beth and Heidi are really jealous 'cause they think Uncle Johnny's cute.”

Joanne poked a playful finger into her daughter's stomach. “And so do you.”

Jennifer blushed, but refused to acknowledge her mother's words. She changed the subject as Joanne returned to her sewing.

“I heard Daddy say Chet's mad 'cause he has to be the troll.”

“I don't think Chet's really mad, just upset. And even at that I think he's only upset because the guys at the station have been teasing him so much.”

“But why? The troll was the best part of the haunted house. I wasn't afraid of the troll.”

“Which is why Chet's upset. He wanted to play a scary part.”

“Oh. Well, if you ask me there's nothing special about being scary on Halloween. Everyone does that. But being funny...now that's neat.”

“Then you'll have to tell Chet that.”

“When?”

“When he comes to pick up his costume on Halloween afternoon.”

“You're making Chet's costume, too?”

“Not really. Just helping him out a little.” Joanne pointed to the faded jeans, denim shirt, and burlap material sitting on the shelf above her head where she kept her sewing supplies. “He called here the other day wanting to know if I could sew his costume. Thanks to Uncle Johnny I know just what trolls wear. All I have to do is cut off those old jeans of Chet's at the shins, cut off the shirt at the elbows, and sew that burlap into a big sack.”

“Like a Santa Claus sack?”

Joanne nodded. “Like a Santa Claus sack.”

“What else does Chet have to do to make himself look like a troll?”

“He's going to carry a club, and I told him we'd tease his hair until it looks like a hornet's nest.”

“Neat,” Jennifer grinned. “We get to put makeup on Uncle Johnny and tease Chet's hair. This is almost gonna be more fun than trick-or-treating.”

Recalling Johnny's reaction to her suggestion of makeup, and the way Chet's voice rose an octave when he'd said, “You're going to do what to my hair?” forced Joanne to agree with her daughter.

“You're right, Jenn. With both Chet and Uncle Johnny here on Halloween getting made up by the DeSoto women, we will have almost as much fun as trick-or-treating.”

“And Daddy will be ready to kill them both by the time they leave here for the haunted house.”

Joanne laughed at her perceptive daughter. “I imagine you're right. But we'll keep the troll and Dracula in line by offering them supper before they go if they halfway behave themselves.”

“Good idea, Mom. You're very smart.”

Joanne chuckled at the praise. “I've been dealing with Chet and your Uncle Johnny too long not to be.”

Jennifer nodded in agreement. Her eyes traveled over all the costumes again.

“Chris says scary things are supposed to happen to people on Halloween. Bad scary things. But I think Halloween will be more fun than scary this year.”

“I think you're right, sweetie.”

“I'm glad, because I don't want any bad scary things to happen to me, or to anyone I know. I just want us all to have fun.”

“Don't worry, nothing bad or scary is going to happen.” Joanne leaned sideways in her chair and kissed her daughter's forehead. “Now you run along and play so I can get Daddy's costume finished.”

Jennifer did as her mother requested. She skipped past Dracula's cape, secure in the knowledge that only fun would be had on this Halloween.

Dawn was just breaking on the Tuesday before Halloween as Bob walked to the long bank of garbage trucks lining the far lot. He turned when he felt a hand clasp his shoulder.

“Hey, Bobby, how's it going?”

The easygoing Bob Sullivan could get along with just about anyone, even those few co-workers he didn't particularly care for such as Duane 'Spike' Conroy.

“Mornin', Spike.”

Every time Bob greeted the man he felt like he was talking to a junkyard dog. Between Duane's nickname, and his reputation for trouble, Bob supposed he wasn't too far off the mark. He didn't know everything Spike was a part of, but then he didn't want to know. He'd heard rumors about involvement in the Hell's Angels, drug dealing, threats against those who didn't see things Spike's way, and even a murder at one time, but Bob dismissed most of them since the man showed up for work each day and did his job without incident. Regardless, given the things Bob had heard about his co-worker, it was best to agreeable and then move on.

“So, you and yer old lady got any plans for Halloween?” Spike asked as he fell in step beside Bob.

“Taking the kids trick-or-treating, then I'm meeting some friends later that night to pull a prank for a buddy of mine, but that's about it.”

“A prank?”

“Yeah,” Bob shrugged. “He wants us to pretend to kidnap a co-worker of his.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Should be. It'll kind of take me back to being sixteen, ya know? Cruisin' on cycles with my buddies and lookin' for trouble. Only not so much trouble as to get in real trouble, if you get my drift.”

“Sure,” Spike nodded, that movement causing his dark ponytail to slide up and down his back. “I get your drift. Me and some of my buddies will be cruisin' that night, too. Where you gonna be?”

Without thinking about it first, Bob rattled off Johnny's address. A mistake he immediately regretted when Spike said, “Maybe I'll see you there.”

“Yeah...uh...well, listen, we're not going to hurt the guy you understand. Just scare him a little, then take him over to my friend's apartment where he'll be told it was all a joke over pizza and beer.”

“Cool. Just tell your friend to have enough pizza and beer to feed twelve more guys.”

“Spike--”

The man laughed at Bob's sudden discomfort and flung an arm around his shoulders.

“Bobby, Bobby, Bobby, don't worry. I understand. It's just a little Halloween fun. Just to scare the guy a little, that's all. Think of the bargain your friend is getting. Instead of just a few guys showin' up to pull this prank, he'll have an entire gang showing up.”

Bob thought a moment, wavering between calling the whole thing off and carrying it forward as Spike proposed. Thinking about how much Chet wanted this done as payback for the troll prank John Gage had pulled on him caused Bob to give a reluctant nod. After all, Chet would probably be agreeable to the proposal and simply say, “The more the merrier.”

“All right. If you and your buddies happen to be in the neighborhood go ahead and join us. But you understand that Gage isn't to be hurt. Not in any way. This is just a clean-cut prank. Just a little Halloween fun.”

As they came to their respective garbage trucks Spike nodded.

“I understand. Just a little Halloween fun.” The man patted Bob on the back and smiled before the two parted ways. “If there's one thing I know about, Bobby, it's good, clean, Halloween fun.”

Dixie looked at Roy. “I imagine Chris and Jennifer are getting excited about Halloween.”

“They sure are.”

“What are they dressing as this year?”

“Chris is going as a football player. Jennifer's going to be a ghost.”

“A friendly ghost,” Johnny added, having been reminded of this fact a number of times in recent weeks by Roy's daughter.

Dixie arched an eyebrow. “A friendly ghost? You mean like Casper?”

“Exactly,” Johnny nodded. “Jenn doesn't like the scary aspect of Halloween.”

“I don't blame her.”

The paramedic rolled his eyes. “You girls are all alike.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Trying to make Halloween unscary.”

“Unscary?” Roy looked at his partner. “What kind of a word is unscary?”

“You know what I mean. Take Dix for instance. I bet she's going to be something like...oh, say Glinda the Good Witch. Which is just about as silly as being a friendly ghost.”

Dixie looked at the man with open astonishment. “How did you--” Dixie cut herself off in mid-sentence and swatted Johnny's arm. “Someone told you.”

“Someone told him what?” Roy asked.

“That the theme for the pediatrics Halloween party is The Wizard of Oz.”

Johnny grinned. “Let's just say a cute little munchkin mentioned it one night.”

Dixie smirked at the paramedic, then cleared up further confusion for Roy as prompted by his partner's words.

“The nurses on Peds are dressing as munchkins. They asked me to be Glinda. Joe's going to be the Wizard. Kel's the Scarecrow. Mike's the Tin Man. And Doctor Yambor, the head of Pediatrics, is the Cowardly Lion.”

“Is that the big, heavy-set guy all the kids love?” Roy asked.

Dixie nodded. “That's our gentle giant.”

Roy took a sip of coffee. “Sounds like perfect casting to me.”

“Don't tell Mike Morton that.”

“Why?”

“He was a little miffed at first that he'd been cast as the Tin Man. You know, the joke about him not having a heart and all.”

“Like Roy said,” Johnny grinned, “perfect casting.”

Dixie simply shook her head at the man while scolding, “Johnny.” Granted, Mike could be gruff at times, but he really did care about his patients. Johnny and Roy knew that as well as she did.

“Don't be too hard on Johnny, Dix. This year he's been busy casting everyone he knows into his or her Halloween roles. Why I wouldn't be surprised to find out he might even have had something to do with Doc Morton playing the Tin Man.”

Dixie's eyes traveled to the dark-headed paramedic who was suddenly very interested in the ceiling tiles.

“You didn't?”

Johnny shrugged as his twinkling eyes met the nurse's. “I might have.”

“And just who else have you helped 'cast' this year, Mr. Gage?”

“Well, let's see. There was Yambor. And Brackett. And Early. And you of course.”

“Then I guess I should be thankful for small favors since I'm not playing the Wicked Witch of the West.”

“A lovely lady like yourself, Dix?” Johnny flirted. “Never.”

“Who is the Wicked Witch of the West?” Roy asked.

“No one,” Johnny said. “We didn't want to scare the kids, though Karen did have a suggestion as to who could fill that role.”

Both Dixie and Roy knew Karen was the nurse from Pediatrics that Johnny was currently dating.

“I bet she did,” Dixie agreed, thinking of the Peds nursing supervisor who was not well liked by her staff.

“You know, Johnny, between the hospital staff and Chet, you're going to have people lining up to pay you back for your Halloween pranks this year,” Roy pointed out.

“What'd you do to Chet?” Dixie asked.

Johnny laughed. “Had the department cast him as a troll for the haunted house.”

Dixie couldn't help but chuckle, too. She had to admit Johnny had a knack for determining who fit into what Halloween role best. She could easily picture the short, curly headed Chet Kelly as a troll.

“See, Dix thinks it's perfect for Chet.”

“It is,” Roy agreed. “But don't come crying to me when payback time rolls around.”

“He'll never find out.”

“You hope.”

“So I hear you guys are working the haunted house on Halloween night, huh?” Dixie asked.

“Yep.”

“I suppose that means we won't see you at our party this year, Johnny. The kids will miss you.”

“I'll miss them, too. But we don't finish at the haunted house until eleven, so no, I won't be here.”

Dixie was about to go off-shift, causing the men set their empty coffee cups on the counter then bid her goodbye. Knowing the paramedics' duty schedule would have them off until Saturday morning, when Dixie herself had the day off, prompted her to wish them a Happy Halloween.

“You guys have fun and stay safe.”

“Stay safe?” Johnny questioned. “Oh, come on, Dix, don't tell me Halloween scares you, too.”

“It doesn't scare me, but I've worked here long enough to have seen the effects it has on some people. Too much drinking, too many parties, excessive drug use, barroom brawls, gang fights, even a human sacrifice one time which I hope to never live to see the sight of again. So all I'm saying is have a good time, but be careful.”

“We will be,” Roy assured.

“Yeah, we will be,” Johnny echoed. “Besides, what can go wrong at a haunted house that's advertised as 'fun for the whole family'?“

As the two paramedics headed for the exit Dixie was forced to agree with Johnny. What could go wrong on a night that was supposed to be fun for the whole family? Most likely nothing. Most likely nothing at all.

"Okay, guys," Hank looked at his clipboard during morning roll call. "Tomorrow's the big day at the haunted house." Hank handed a sheaf of papers to Mike, who took one and passed them down the line. "You're getting a set of guidelines from HQ about what they want you to do. Apparently, some parents complained that the haunted house was too scary, and some complained that it wasn't scary enough. So the department has issued some general dos and don'ts. If you see a kid who looks like he's afraid, don't push it. Gage," Hank pointed to item number 6 on the list, "you'll see that they don't want us to actually touch the patrons. So, no sinking those fangs of yours into any cute girl's necks."

"Yes, Sir," Johnny glanced at the smiles of the rest of the crew.

"And, Chet," Hank reviewed the list. "No throwing rocks at the patrons. "I guess last year's troll got a little too enthusiastic toward the end of the evening and nearly put somebody's eye out."

"Don't worry, Cap," assured Chet. "I promise I won't throw anything."

"They want us to be there an hour before the house opens, so we can get ready and get the feel of the place." Hank looked over the group. "They also want us to change into our street clothes before we leave." Hank looked at the troops. "I guess a couple of the guys went out afterwards, got a little toasted, and tried to go trick-or-treating." Hank snorted and shook his head.

Chet peered over at Johnny. There'll be one person trick-or-treating this year, but it'll be the trick before the treat. He won't know what hit him.

"Okay," Hank tucked the clipboard beneath his arm. "Chet, you've got the day room; Roy, the latrine; I'm cooking; Mike, you've got the dishes; and Marco, you've got the dorm. Let's get a move on, guys."

“Aren't you cold?”

“Cold? Why would I be cold? It's not cold outside.”

“I think it is.”

“Roy, cold is thirty below zero. It's fifty-five degrees. Believe me, that's not cold.”

“If you say so.”

The smell of homemade chicken and dumplings filled the house as Roy led Johnny down the hall that held the bedrooms and bathroom. The dark-headed paramedic carried a paper bag that contained a pair of black dress pants, black shoes, a white shirt, and his fangs. He could hear Chris and Jennifer laughing as he approached the bathroom, along with Chet Kelly's protests.

“Joanne, that's enough. Honest.”

“No, Chet. A bit more.”

“But I look like a freak!”

Johnny entered the bathroom to see Chet seated in a chair in front of the vanity. Joanne stood behind him while the DeSoto children sat on the vanity's counter top watching the activity unfold. The Irishman's curls had been completely combed out, and now his hair stood on end as though he'd had an encounter with a faulty fuse box.

“You're right, Kelly. You do look like a freak.”

“Shut up, Gage.”

“Chet looks funny, huh, Uncle Johnny?”

Johnny bent to give Jennifer a kiss on the nose. “You bet he does, Jenny Bean.”

“I was gonna take his picture, Uncle Johnny, but Chet said the Phantom would get me if I did,” Chris informed the man.

“Don't worry, Chris, I'll get Chet's picture, Phantom or no Phantom. My camera's in my truck just waiting to be used.”

“Gage, if you take a picture of me like this I swear you'll be sorry.”

“Ooooh, I'm shaking, I'm so scared.”

“You should be. When I get through with you....”

Joanne cut the man off in mid-threat. Just by meeting her husband's eyes in the mirror she could see that Roy was already growing weary of the bickering.

“Okay, Chet. All done. You'll make a fantastic troll.” Joanne turned and smiled at Johnny. “All right, Mr. Gage. You're next.”

Johnny took two steps backwards.

“Uh...listen, Joanne, I've been giving it more thought and I...well, I just don't think that I need to wear any--”

“Johnny. Sit.”

“But--”

Joanne grasped the man's shoulders and pushed downward. “Sit.”

“Come on, Gage. If I had to get my hair teased, you can live with a little makeup.”

Johnny's eyes darted to Roy. The man was leaning against the doorway with a smirk on his face. “I've changed my mind. I wanna be the Wolfman.”

“Too late, Junior. That role has already been taken.”

“Man, this just keeps getting worse and worse,” Johnny moaned as he sat down. “First I have to wear makeup, then I get told I can't touch any girls tonight.”

Chris wrinkled his nose with distaste.

“Why did you want to touch girls, Uncle Johnny? To scare 'em?”

Chet and Roy choked back their laughter while Johnny replied, “Uh...yeah, Sport. Something like that.”

“But you're still gonna hug me, right, Uncle Johnny?”

“You bet, Jenny Bean. Rules or no rules, I'm still gonna hug you.”

“Good, 'cause that way I won't be scared.”

Joanne placed two fingers beneath Johnny's chin and made him tilt his face upward. A job that would have taken her fifteen minutes took thirty thanks to the presence of her husband and Chet who couldn't resist the urge to tease 'Dracula' as his makeup was applied. Regardless, when Joanne was finally finished she stood back and gave a satisfied smile.

“You look great, Johnny, even if I do say so myself.”

Johnny stood and looked in the mirror. Joanne had put black mascara on his already black lashes, had applied both a liquid and powder to his face that gave him a sickly, pale appearance, had drawn pointed sideburns a quarter of the way down his jaw, had darkened his eyebrows further with a black eyebrow pencil, and had slicked his hair off his forehead with gel. The final touch had been red lipstick, which Johnny had vehemently protested, but after much insistence from the woman that it would complete his Dracula look, the paramedic reluctantly agreed. Now he was forced to admit that Joanne was right. He did look great. Or rather, great in a Dracula sort of way.

“Hey, Gage, I think you should wear makeup all the time. Kinda covers your ugliness, know what I mean?”

“And I think you should wear your hair like that all the time, Kelly. Makes you look more like the ape you already are.”

Before the argument could continue, and Joanne knew it could continue for hours to come, the woman ushered everyone to the kitchen. The children set the table while Joanne dished up the meal. By three-thirty supper had been eaten and the dishes stacked in the dishwasher. While Joanne cleaned up the kitchen she shooed everyone off in various directions to get their costumes on. As soon as the men left the house she and the children were going to start their trick-or-treating rounds.

Chet was the first to appear in the living room dressed and ready to go. His ragged jeans stopped just below his knees as Joanne had planned, and his shirtsleeves at his elbows. He'd left his shirt unbuttoned half way down, and had cut the ends off an old pair of tennis shoes so his feet stuck out. Joanne had stuffed his burlap sack with newspapers to give it volume, and had sewn a strap on it so Chet could carry it over his shoulder. She walked into the living room and smiled when she caught sight of the wild-haired man.

“Chet, you look wonderful.”

“No. I look like a troll.”

“But that's how you're supposed to look.”

“Still, it's not very scary.”

Joanne gave the downhearted man a kiss on the cheek. “Scary or not, you'll be the best troll that haunted house will ever see.”

“I hope not.”

“Why?”

“Because I don't wanna be asked to play this part again.”

Joanne laughed at Chet as her children ran into the room. She praised their costumes while helping Chris straighten his shoulder pads and making sure Jennifer could see out of her eyeholes. Roy entered the room next.

“Wow!” Chris marveled.

“Daddy, is that really you?”

“Geez, Roy, you really do look like the Wolfman.”

For once, Chet was right. Roy fit the part perfectly. Though his costume of jeans, work boots and flannel shirt was plain enough, it was the 'fur' Joanne had created that really set it off. His arms were coated with thick, rusty red curls, as were his chest and face. The only part of Roy that was recognizable was his blue eyes.

“At least I won't get cold now,” Roy said. “I'm already hot in this stuff.”

The man turned and shouted down the hallway, “Johnny, come on! Let's go! I'll melt if I have to stay in this house much longer.”

Within seconds Johnny appeared from the sewing room. His cape billowed around his long legs as he walked. The ascot tie Joanne had made for him, held together by a fake diamond broach she'd found at Goodwill for ten cents, added an air of dignity to the man Joanne had never imagined John Gage could possess.

The paramedic looked so much like Barnabas Collins, the Dracula from the soap opera Dark Shadows, that Jennifer stared up wide-eyed, trying to find any sign of the man she knew and loved. That sign came as Johnny spread his cape, rushed at her with a growl, and swept her off her feet. Jennifer squealed as Johnny pretended to sink his fangs into her neck while twirling her around inside his cape. When Johnny finally put the girl down Chris gave him two thumbs up.

“You're the best Dracula ever, Uncle Johnny.”

“Thanks, kiddo. But it's your mom you should be complimenting. She did most of the work.” Johnny kept his fangs in his mouth as he gave Joanne a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Joanne. I really appreciate all your help.”

“You're welcome.”

“Yeah, Joanne. Thanks,” Chet said. “You're a whiz with this kinda stuff.”

Roy kissed his wife on the lips. “Thanks, hon, for everything.” He looked down at his children next. “You guys have a good time trick-or-treating. And remember, don't eat any candy until Mom and I have a chance to go through it.”

“We know.”

“We won't, Daddy.”

“I'll see you later tonight at the haunted house.”

“Bye, Dad.”

“Bye, Daddy.”

The children called goodbye to Chet and Johnny as the men walked out the door. All three firefighters carried bags containing the clothes and shoes they'd change into when the haunted house closed. They headed for Johnny's Land Rover, Roy climbing in the front passenger side and Chet climbing in the seat behind him. As the wet sidewalks surrounding Roy's neighborhood began to fill with trick-or-treaters, Johnny drove to the other side of town.

Spike was in a foul mood. His old lady had packed up and left him the previous day, taking their two little boys with her. Those kids had meant everything to Spike. They were the only good things this life had ever brought him. But now two-year-old Jason and six-month-old Aaron were gone. To make matters worse, Spike didn't know where they were. His wife had left with the boys while he was out with his buddies. He'd spent half of last night and most of this day looking, but had yet to find her.

“Damn bitch,” Spike swore through the haze of marijuana smoke. “She had no right to take my kids. No right. If she wanted to go, then fine. Go. Leave. See what the hell I care. Women like her are a dime a dozen anyway. But the kids. My kids. She should have never taken my kids 'cause when I find the bitch I'll kill her.”

A football game blared on the TV. Every so often the men seated around it would cheer or groan depending on whether the Rams had just pulled off a play or failed in the attempt. Spike paid no attention to the game or his friends as he leaned forward and grabbed a sugar cube off the coffee table. He popped the cube in his mouth, hoping the 'trip' he was about to take thanks to the LSD laced cube, would help him forget all his troubles.

"You were really scary, Chet," Marco commented as the men headed for the changing room. "Man, I thought those college kids were gonna freak when you jumped out at them."

"Yeah," added Johnny as he slipped his fangs out. "Did you catch what he did when the chick came through dressed as a female troll?" He clapped Chet on the shoulder and laughed. "Man, she went after him like nothin' doin'."

"Anybody wanna grab a beer or something?" asked Mike as he wiped his face.

Johnny shook his head. "I think I'm gonna head home. I'm pretty tired."

"Me, too," added Marco. "I think I'm gonna call it a night."

"Okay," said Stoker. The men quickly changed their clothes.

Johnny scratched the side of his face. "Man, I don't know how chicks wear this stuff. It feels so...cakey...and it itches."

Roy shrugged. "I don't know...I never tried it," he said with a straight face.

"Ha, ha," Johnny rolled his eyes. "I'm gonna wash this off." He headed into the bathroom.

"Man," groused Chet as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. "With all this goop in my hair, I'm gonna be in the shower for a while."

"It should wash out pretty quickly," offered Roy. "It usually does with Jo's." He paused. "But then again, she usually doesn't use that much of it."

The men changed quickly and Hank locked the haunted house door. "Be careful going home, and I'll see you day after tomorrow."

Johnny drove Chet and Roy back to Roy's darkened house. "You guys wanna come in for a minute?" asked Roy.

Johnny looked at his watch, then shook his head. "Nah. I'd hate to wake everybody up." He stifled a yawn and stretched.

"No thanks, Roy," Chet said quickly. "I wanna head home and take a shower." He glanced at Johnny. Good. He's tired. He won't know what hit him. Man, this joke's gonna be the best yet!

The three men went their separate ways: Roy headed for the house, Chet headed for his vehicle, and Johnny backed out of the driveway and headed home.

"Hey, Spike," said a burly, tattooed man named Eddie. "We're down to two beers. Somebody's gotta make a beer run."

"Better yet," said another rough-looking guy named Frank. "Let's go to Horizons and see if we can pick up a couple of chicks."

Spike looked up at his companions and smiled. "No. I've got a better idea. One of the guys at work is gonna play a practical joke for a friend of his." He stared in fascination as he slammed his fist against his open palm. "But the joke's gonna be on him. He's gonna help me get my kids back."

"How?" asked Frank.

"Don't worry about that," Spike said as he stood and checked his watch. "We don't have much time. Just follow my lead."

"Now!"

Johnny saw several bikers rushing at him from all sides. "Hey!" He threw the bag at one of his pursuers and sprinted for the door. He was tackled by two of the men, his arms roughly pinned behind him. He kicked and thrashed wildly, connecting with at least one attacker's groin. He opened his mouth to yell, but a bandanna was jammed inside and tied behind his head.

"Just knock him out," grunted a voice.

"We're not supposed to hurt him," insisted another voice.

Johnny inhaled sharply as a pain shot through his head and the world went black.

“Well it's not a practical joke anymore,” Spike said as he bent to hoist the unconscious Johnny over his shoulder. “This guy's gonna help me get my old lady back.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“She's got a soft heart. When she hears I'm holdin' someone hostage she'll give me my kids back. Now come on. Let's go.”

Bob's friends looked at him for guidance. None of them had felt comfortable when Spike and his gang of eleven men had pulled into the parking lot of Johnny's apartment. Half of them appeared drunk, the other half high. Spike appeared to be both.

Spike looked a Eddie. “Hey, pat this skinny sucker down and make sure he doesn't have a weapon.”

Eddie did as his friend ordered, running a shaky hand over Johnny's body from where it rested across Spike's shoulders. He pulled the paramedic's wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. “He ain't got no weapons, Spike, but he's got this.”

Spike squinted at the item that was held up in front of his face. “A badge? Oh, you're frickin' puttin' me on, right? He's a cop? He's a damn cop?”

“Not a cop,” Bob corrected. “A paramedic.”

“A what?”

“A paramedic. Firefighter. He works for the fire department.”

“Oh. Well that's almost as good as kidnapping a cop then. I'll get my kids back for sure.”

“Look, Spike--"

“Shut up, Bobby. You and your guys come with us.”

“No.”

Switch blades and guns suddenly appeared as Bob and his friends were surrounded by the bikers.

“Get on your bikes and come with us. You and your buddies stay in the middle and no one gets hurt.”

“Someone has already gotten hurt.”

“Never mind about him. He's just taking a little nap.”

The guns the gang waved at them left Bob and his friends no choice but to head toward the motorcycles that had been parked in a far, dark corner of the lot. Bob was still trying to think of a way to get help as he watched Spike tie Johnny to the back of his Harley chopper. A metal bar eighteen inches in width rose up five feet from the seat and was laced with leather. Johnny was lashed to the bar in an upright position. Between the darkness and the fact he was seated, it would be difficult for a passerby to tell the paramedic was unconscious.

And even if someone does notice they'll just think he's had too much Halloween fun. Bob thought as Spike commanded him and his friends to start their cycles.

Bob tried to come up with a way to break from the group as a dozen other bikes surrounded him on all sides, but the guns were a strong deterrent of any escape attempt.

Thanks a lot Chester. This is more trouble than you ever got me into during our twelve years in school together.

The motorcycles roared out of the parking lot in a tight pack, Bob and his friends stuck right in the middle. It was now after midnight, meaning it was All Saint's Day. Bob reverently prayed to every saint he could think of in an effort to gain his freedom, and thus save the lives of his friends and John Gage.

Chet crossed to the patio doors and parted the draperies. He looked out at the parking lot for the fourth time in fifteen minutes but didn't see anyone. The man waited another ten minutes, then headed for the kitchen phone.

It would be just like Gage to have figured out what was going on and invite my buddies into his place for a beer. They're probably sittin' over there right now waitin' for me to show up and let old Chet know the joke is now on him.

Chet dialed Johnny's number from memory. When the paramedic's phone had rung twenty times without being answered Chet disconnected the call. He set his receiver in the cradle, then crossed to the patio doors once again. He parted the draperies and stared into the darkness. For reasons he couldn't identify, the Irishman was getting the feeling this practical joke wasn't so funny any more.

"Roy, get the phone," Joanne said as she elbowed her husband in the ribs. "The phone is on your side."

"'lo," Roy mumbled into the receiver. He had only been in bed fifteen minutes but was so tired that he had been sound asleep.

"Roy?" the worried sound of Chet Kelly's voice brought a little more awareness to Roy's world.

"Chet?"

"Yeah. Listen, Roy, sorry to wake you...but...well, is Johnny over there by some chance?"

"Johnny? No. Why?"

"Well...I was expecting him here sometime ago, and he never showed up. I'm getting a little worried."

Roy rubbed his eyes in thought. He took a deep breath before answering. "I'm sure there's nothing to worry about, Chet. Johnny was pretty tired. Maybe he decided to go home and go to bed."

Roy expected Chet to say something, but instead, silence greeted him.

"Chet?" Roy questioned.

"Roy...there's something I need to tell you...."

The tired nurse hadn't bothered to change out of her costume before leaving Rampart. The full skirt of her pale pink ball gown made it impossible for her to see her feet. She hiked the skirt up a bit in order to move her right foot from the accelerator to the brake as she approached a desolate intersection just when the light was turning red.

As a tight cluster of motorcycles came to a stop on the other side of the intersection Dixie glanced at the driver's door of her Monte Carlo, then at the passenger door. She was relieved to see she had them both locked. The street lamps gave enough light that Dixie could clearly see the man across from her. He wore a black bandanna with skull and crossbones around the top of his head in pirate fashion. She thought he was sporting a ponytail as well, but from this angle it was hard to tell for certain. She could see a leg resting limply behind him, the person's tennis shoe just barely staying on the footrest as though he'd fallen asleep.

Not really a safe way to ride on the back of a motorcycle if you ask me. Someone should wake that guy...or girl, up. But then maybe he or she had a little too much Halloween fun and has passed out.

It was the nurse in Dixie McCall that kept her foot on the brake when the light turned green. She wanted to get a look at the person on the back of that motorcycle as it passed. Maybe he or she needed help and the driver wasn't aware of it.

If the man's face had been turned away from Dixie she never would have recognized him. But his face wasn't turned away, and as the cycle roared by Dixie her jaw dropped with shock.

Johnny!

Though Dixie hadn't gotten more then a five-second glimpse of the man, she'd seen the bandanna stuffed in his mouth and the way he was trussed to the back of the bike. She burned rubber as she accelerated and did a U-turn in the middle of the intersection. Without thinking of her own safety, Dixie stomped on the gas and followed the motorcycles.

If the hour hadn't been so late and the streets deserted, the gang might not have realized they were being followed. But Eddie, who was bringing up the rear, watched Dixie tail them for three miles. He sped up until he was beside Spike. He caught his leader's attention and jerked his thumb to the rear.

“We got a tail!”

Spike whipped his head around. “A tail?”

“Yeah! That car's been on our ass for three miles now!”

“Shit!”

“Whaddaya want us to do?”

“Get 'em!”

Eddie nodded. With a wave of his hand he motioned for three men to follow him. They opened the throttles on their bikes and pulled in line behind him. Eddie led them ahead of the pack. The four bikes turned down a series of side streets until they had circled around Dixie.

When she saw their lights in her rearview mirror her stomach did a somersault as her heart leapt to her throat. “Damn,” The nurse swore at her own stupidity. “Damn, damn, damn.”

Dixie now realized she should have gone right to a police station instead of following the men, but at the same time she couldn't blame herself for not wanting to let Johnny out of her sight. After all, how could the police help him if they didn't know where the gang was taking him?

The woman shoved the gas pedal to the floor but was forced to slam on her brakes when the motorcycles in front of her slammed on their own brakes and came to a sideways stop, effectively pinning her in.

Eddie climbed off his cycle and ran to the car. He yanked on the driver's side door. When it didn't open he pulled his gun from the waistband of his jeans.

“Come on, sister! Party's over. Get outta the car!”

Dixie looked at the motorcycles in front of her, then glanced to her right to see two more beside her. A quick look in the rearview mirror confirmed yet another was still behind her. Even if she tried to barrel her way out of this trap, she wouldn't get very far without being shot. Since the man standing outside her car had a gun, no doubt the others did as well.

“Lady, you're tryin' my patience here! Now get outta that car.”

Dixie left her keys in the ignition as she reached up to unlatch the door lock. Before she could climb out the door was thrown open and a beefy hand grabbed her upper arm. Dixie cried out when her head slammed into the doorframe as she was yanked from the vehicle.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here? A pretty little lady all dressed up for a party.”

Dixie tried to jerk her arm from the man's steel grasp, but had no luck.

“Let me go!”

“I ain't lettin' you go, sister. You was followin' us.”

“I was not.”

“Were too.”

Dixie looked at the sea of men ahead of her, just able to catch a glimpse of the still-unconscious Johnny. Her thoughts were racing in an effort to come up with the best way out of this situation.

“Okay, you're right. I was. But I'm a nurse and I thought your friend there...that man on the back of that motorcycle, might be hurt. I was trying to see if he needed help.”

“Hear that, Spike!” Eddie shouted, spit shooting from the empty space where his upper front teeth had been prior to a fight with a rival motorcycle gang. “This pretty little princess here is a nurse and she wants to help our friend over there!”

Spike nodded. “Good! We might need her help. After all, a dead hostage won't do me no good, and two hostages is better than one anytime. Bring her along!”

Hostage? What the....Johnny, what mess have you gotten yourself into this time?

Before Dixie had time to contemplate John Gage's plight any further she was plucked from the ground as easily as if she'd been a child. She kicked and flailed but it was no use. At six foot five and weighing more than three hundred pounds, Eddie was too big for her fight off.

Dixie barely had time to spread her legs before she was slammed on the back of the man's motorcycle. Sensitive areas of her body were still smarting as he climbed on in front of her.

“Better hang on tight, nursie. And no tricks. You hurt Eddie, Eddie hurts you, got it?”

Dixie cried out in pain as her arms were yanked around Eddie's waist. He pinned her wrists together across his wide belly and squeezed until he left red marks.

“Got it?”

“Yes,” Dixie gasped, as tears welled up in her eyes. “I...I understand.”

“Good.”

Dixie felt the vibration of the motorcycle against her knees as Eddie revved the engine. She had no choice but to hang on for dear life as he opened the throttle and flew forward.

Bob met the eyes of his buddies. All five of these men had gone through high school with Bob and Chet Kelly. Bob hoped they could read his mind. He wasn't certain if they realized what he was thinking, but he swore he saw a spark of hope in Sean McKinley's face, and a slight nod of Dan Murphy's head.

Just as Eddie accelerated his bike and the rest of the group began turning their bikes to the right, Bob opened his throttle and raced straight ahead. He barely squeezed through an opening made by two shifting bikes. He never looked back as his Harley Davidson barreled for the nearest side street.

Bob could hear motorcycles racing at full throttle and could only pray that was the sound of his friends making it to freedom. He knew his buddies would be smart enough to split up, making it more difficult for Spike's gang to track down all of them. He also knew any one of his friends who made it to safety would immediately call the police. A good-natured prank was one thing, but this was something entirely more than they'd bargained for. Though none of them knew John Gage personally, they had no desire to see him hurt.

Bob ignored the biting chill of the night air on his bare arms as he sped through the streets. He stayed away from main roads to instead fly through a succession of quiet, dark neighborhoods. If anyone was trailing him he never caught sight of the person each time he looked over his shoulder.

Twenty minutes later the man roared into the parking lot of a four-story apartment building. He barely got the kickstand of his bike in place before he was running toward the front of the building. His eyes frantically scanned the names beside the buzzers until he came to the one he was looking for. He pressed heavily on the small white button with his thumb.

If Bob had been paying attention he would have noticed the relief in Chet Kelly's voice when the man answered the buzzer with a, “Yeah?”

“Chet! It's me. Buzz me in, man!”

“Bob?”

“Chet, come on! Hurry!”

As soon as Bob heard the buzz that signaled the lock had been released he yanked the heavy wooden door open, not paying any attention to the fact that it didn't close behind him.

Bob took the stairs two at a time until he came to the third floor. Chet was standing outside his open apartment door with a big grin on his face.

“It's about time you guys got here. I was wondering what was keeping you.” Chet looked over Bob's shoulder. “Where's Gage?”

“We gotta call the cops!”

“What?”

Bob grabbed Chet's arm and pulled him into the apartment.

“The cops, Chet! Call the cops!”

“What the hell are you talkin' about?”

“Your friend's been kidnapped for real.”

“He's what?”

“He's been kidnapped, Chet!”

Chet rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

“Chet, come on!” Bob turned circles in the living room as he raked a trembling hand through his hair. “Where's your phone?”

A slow smile spread across Chet's face as he watched the seemingly upset man look for the phone.

“Oh, I get it. Gage figured out what was going on and put you put to this, didn't he?” Chet walked to the door and looked out into the hall. Mindful of his slumbering neighbors, he gave a whispered shout.

“Johnny! Hey, Gage, come out, come out, wherever you are! Joke's over. I know what you're up to, Johnny!”

Chet's right arm was grabbed from behind. Bob pulled him into the apartment and slammed the door.

“Chet, please. Please! We gotta call the cops.”

It was then that Chet noticed how pale his old friend was, saw the way his hands were shaking, and finally heard the tremor in his tone.

“You're not kidding, are you?”

“No, I'm not. I'm serious, Chet. I'm dead serious. I...listen, it's a long story. Just call the cops and get them over here. I'll help them in any way I can.”

“But what happened? It was only supposed to be a joke.”

“I know. But Spike...it was never a joke to Spike, only I didn't realize that until it was too late.”

Though Chet had no idea who Spike was, he didn't ask any more questions as he headed to the phone. He asked the police dispatcher if Vince Howard was on duty. When he was told yes, Chet asked to be connected to the man. After Chet briefly explained what he knew to Vince he turned the phone over to Bob. Bob spent the next few minutes telling Vince what had occurred and answering his questions. When Vince ended the conversation Bob hung up the receiver.

“He's on his way over," Bob said. "In the meantime he's putting an All Points Bulletin out on John.”

Chet nodded as the doorbell rang. He hesitated long enough that Bob said, "Aren't you gonna get that? Maybe Officer Howard sent another cop over to get my statement. You know, someone who was already patrolling your neighborhood."

"No, it's not a cop. It's Roy."

“Roy?”

“Johnny's best friend.” Chet wouldn't look at Bob when he walked to the door and quietly added, “And he's gonna kill me for this. He's absolutely gonna kill me.”

Dixie lost count of how many times she'd glanced over her shoulder during this harrowing ride. She still wasn't certain why six of the bikers fled while Eddie was plopping her on his cycle, but she knew it threw those remaining into turmoil. Spike shouted to his men to follow those who had bolted. Eddie and Spike had remained behind, allowing their bikes to idle in the street with their captives on back. Within ten minutes the gang had regrouped with six less members. Because of the roar of the bikes' engines Dixie couldn't hear what was being said, but Spike's face, and the way he pounded a fist against his thigh, told Dixie he was angry about something. She could only hope that the men who had left had gone to get help. Why they'd do that if they were a part of this gang, Dixie wasn't certain. But at this point she was willing to grasp onto whatever positives she could find.

Dixie's legs felt like they'd been glued to the bike when Eddie yanked her off. She cried out, barely able to stand on stiff muscles. A dirty hand with grease beneath its fingernails caressed Dixie's face.

“You're kinda soft, ain't ya', nursie. Not used to toughin' it out I reckon.”

Dixie was far from 'soft' and was considerably tougher than Eddie seemed to think, but then his misconception was understandable considering she was standing before him in a pink ball gown complete with pink stain slippers on her feet. For the time being she decided it was best to let Eddie and the rest of his buddies assume she was simply a helpless female unable to fend for herself.

The nurse jerked her face from Eddie's grasp. He laughed, but didn't try to touch her again. She watched as Spike untied Johnny, then hoisted the paramedic over his shoulder. She thought Johnny was still unconscious, but on the other hand he could be dead for all she knew.

Eddie grabbed Dixie's wrist and pulled her toward a dark, square structure built into the side of the hill. There was no lawn to speak of, and if grass of any kind had ever grown here it had been killed by the clutter of motorcycle parts that littered the area for well over half an acre.

Spike stepped aside and let Eddie enter the house first. The man flicked on a light bringing into view a dirty living room cluttered with newspapers, magazines, empty beer cans, and half-filled ashtrays.

“Hey, Charlene! Charlene, get your ass out here! We got company, woman!”

The men poured into the house, laughing and talking as if it were three o'clock in the afternoon, rather than three o'clock in the morning. A ragged-looking woman with dishwater-blond hair curled in pink rollers shuffled out from the dark hallway. She belted a threadbare blue robe at her scrawny waist as she lit a cigarette.

“What the hell are you doin' bringin' your mangy friends around in the middle of the night? I've done told you I don't want 'em here! I'm sicka pickin' up after 'em.”

“And I done told you I don't really give a rat's behind what you want and what you don't! Now rustle us up some food.”

One of the men walked over and swatted Charlene's bottom while another man turned on the TV and turned up the volume as high as it would go.

“Yeah, Charlene honey, rustle us up some food. Pretty please, huh?”

“Go on with you, Frank. Git away from me.” Charlene slapped the man on the arm, then looked at Dixie. She put her hands on her hips, glaring at Eddie.

“And just who is she?”

Eddie put an arm around Dixie's waist. “Who? This pretty little gal here, ya' mean?”

“Yeah. Who is she? And why's she dressed like that?”

“Why this here's Jackie Onassis, Charlene. And me and her was out on a date.”

The men hooted at Eddie's joke. Dixie pulled away from him, certain the look on her face would assure Charlene she had no intention of going anywhere with Eddie, let alone on a date.

“Oh, you're a barrel of laughs, Eddie. I don't know what she's doin' here, but if you think I'm gonna wait on her hand and foot too, you better think again.”

Dixie watched as the men flopped down on whatever piece of furniture was available. Despite Charlene's words, it was obvious the gang spent a lot of time here, and was well taken care of while on the premises. Dixie could hear pots and pans banging in the kitchen, along with a smattering of curse words, most of which started and ended with, “Damn men!”

Frank pointed to Johnny who was still slung over Spike's shoulder. ”Whatcha' gonna do with him?”

“Unload him somewhere. For a skinny dude he's gettin' kinda heavy. Then I'm gonna work on getting in contact with Marie. I don't know where she is, but I want my kids back and she's damn well gonna give 'em to me.”

“And if she don't?”

“If she don't, I kill him.”

Eddie jerked his head to Dixie. “And what about her?”

“Same thing.” Spike's bloodshot eyes landed on Dixie. “I told you I've got two hostages now, and I meant it.”

The gang leader looked around the little house. “You got some place we can put these two for now?”

“Put 'em in Eddie Junior's room. Now that he's grown and gone we don't use it for nothin' 'cept special company.”

Spike nodded and led the way through the kitchen. Dixie squinted in the glare of the overhead florescent light as Eddie dragged her along by the wrist. Her slippers stuck to the linoleum that looked like it hadn't been washed since the house was built seventy-odd years ago. Charlene cracked eggs into a frying pan as though it was normal to have hostages ushered through her kitchen on a daily basis.

Because she was now walking directly behind Johnny, and because of the bright light, Dixie could see the lump on the back of his head. The skin had been split open indicating to the nurse he'd been hit with some type of blunt object, and dried blood matted his hair together in a clump and stained the collar of his green oxford shirt red.

The room Dixie was tossed into was ten feet long by ten feet wide and lit by one bare light bulb mounted in the middle of the white ceiling that was turning a splotchy yellow with age. A single bed sat against one wall paneled with cheap, imitation maple wood covering. The other three walls were paneled with fake maple wood as well. A faded brown bedspread adorned with cowboys and bucking broncos covered the lumpy mattress and flat pillow. Matching curtains, equally as faded from years of the hot sun beating on them, hung at the room's lone window that looked out over the rear of Eddie's property. A straight-backed chair sat in one corner of the room, its wood long ago marred by a little boy's pocket knife. It didn't surprise Dixie to see that most of the words left behind on that chair were of the four-letter variety. A closet was tucked into one corner and a scuffed dresser stood against the wall across from the bed. The dresser's small twin, a scuffed nightstand, stood next to the bed and was centered beneath the window.

The bed's springs creaked as Spike dumped Johnny on the old mattress. He looked at Eddie.

“You got a way we can lock the door?”

“Sure do. It locks from the outside. I'm the only one with a key.”

“Good. How about the window?”

Eddie smiled his toothless grin. “Nailed it shut years ago.”

“Nailed it shut? Why?”

“Junior used to sneak out at night. Them nails and the door lock cured him of that. Well...them nails, the lock, and my belt.”

Spike gave a satisfied nod. He jammed a finger under Dixie's nose.

“We're gonna lock you in here. If you're good, and by good I mean you keep your mouth shut and don't make a fuss, I'll see that you get fed and get a few trips to the john. You don't keep your mouth shut, you suffer. Got it?”

“Yes. I got it. But please,” the nurse nodded to Johnny, “I need a few things in order to help him.”

“What things?”

“Clean water. A pitcher of water, a glass, a bowl.”

“What kind of bowl?”

“Any kind, as long as it's big. Like a mixing bowl. And clean. It needs to be clean. And some washcloths, towels, and a couple blankets. And aspirin if you have any.” Dixie added that last item more for herself than for Johnny at the moment.

“What the hell do you think this is?” Eddie asked. “One of them there highfalutin five star hotels?”

Dixie didn't waste her time with the half-witted Eddie. She directed her pleas to Spike.

“Look, you want him alive, don't you?”

“Yeah. Or at least for now.”

“Okay, then I need the things I've asked for.”

Eddie tilted his head toward the kitchen. “Charlene! Get in here!”

“Get in there? How can I get in there when I'm busy in here cookin' for them animals you brought home and takin' up space in my parlor?”

“Forget it,” Spike said to his friend, knowing Eddie and Charlene could argue this point for the next thirty minutes. He just wanted to get the nurse and Gage locked in this room, and then start making phone calls in an effort to find his wife Marie. “I'll get her the stuff. Just tell me where everything is.”

Eddie stood guard over Dixie and Johnny, though Dixie had no idea where he thought she'd go, while Charlene shouted instructions to Spike as to where he could locate what he was looking for. Within minutes the man returned with the requested items, including a small bottle of a store-brand aspirin.

Spike handed the items to Dixie one by one, evidently deciding he'd done enough women's work for one night. She carted the water, bowl, aspirin, towels, and washcloths to the nightstand, then put the folded blankets on the end of the bed. As she turned to face Spike one last time she found herself looking down the barrel of a gun. The cold metal was placed against her temple as the man grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back.

“No trouble now. Understand?”

Dixie swallowed hard and gave a slight nod.

“Good. 'Cause I'm not in the mood for any more trouble, Miss Nurse.” Spike released Dixie and indicated Johnny with a jerk of his thumb. “Now you take care of him and keep him quiet. He causes trouble, he gets hurt a lot worse than he already is. You tell him that when he wakes up.”

“I will.”

On that promise, Spike and Eddie left the room. The door was slammed shut, then Dixie heard the lock clicking place. Before the nurse had time to contemplate the dismal situation she now found herself in, a low, pain-filled moan came from the direction of the bed.

CONTINUE