Halloween Party (Fear Street Book 8)

All Terry and the others could do at first was stare in shock at the motorcycles. The riders were dressed in leather jackets and pants, and their faces were completely covered with shiny black helmets.

“Oh, wow!” someone yelled over the thunderous noise.

“Rad! Really rad!” Ricky shouted, his idea of a funny comment.

The whole crazy scene reminded Terry of the movie Animal House, which he and Niki had rented a few weeks before. That movie had a guy riding a motorcycle up and down the stairs.

Was this another of Justine’s “surprises”? Terry wondered, enjoying the crazy, chaotic scene.

With a final roar, the two bikers cut their machines. The sudden quiet was almost deafening.

The bigger of the two riders removed his helmet and got off the bike. With a sinking feeling, Terry saw that it was Bobby McCorey. Bobby’s eyes were bloodshot and he had a nasty expression on his face. “Nice party,” he said sarcastically.

“Yeah,” agreed Marty Danforth, the other rider. He twirled his helmet in his hands as he checked out the room. “Great place you got here. Too bad we had to knock so loud.”

“For some reason the door was locked,” Bobby added. “It’s almost like you didn’t want us.”

Justine stepped forward, her face a mask of fury. “Get out of here,” she said in an icy voice.

“Get out?” said Bobby. “We just got here.”

“I told you you weren’t invited,” Justine said. She didn’t sound frightened at all, Terry noticed, but was so angry her voice was shaking.

“Yeah, well, we told you we don’t like to be left out of things,” Bobby said, forcing a tough-guy sneer on his face.

Now Philip stepped quickly to the center of the room. “Who are these young men?” he asked Justine.

“Two clowns from the high school,” Justine told him. “They’re not on the list.”

Philip approached Bobby and Marty. He had an expression on his face like a teacher who was disappointed with his class. Terry could see that Philip didn’t realize how mean Bobby and Marty could be.

“If you leave right now,” said Philip, “I won’t call the police.”

“Hear that?” Marty asked Bobby, his sneer frozen in place like a bad Elvis imitator. “He won’t call the police.” Both boys laughed.

“Don’t do us any favors, man,” said Bobby, and he shoved Philip, hard, in the chest. With a gasp Philip fell backward and banged into a table.

“Uncle Philip!” cried Justine in horror. Several of the kids rushed to Philip’s aid. Niki, her dark eyes wide with fright, ran to Terry, gripping his hand.

“Sorry about that. It was an accident,” Bobby said, slurring his words. He stumbled over a floorboard, and Terry realized he’d been drinking.

By now the other kids were recovering from the shock of the bikers’ entrance. “Go home!” several shouted. “Get out of here, you creeps!”

Bobby and Marty ignored the others. “Nice place they got here,” said Bobby. “Kinda looks like your place, huh, Marty?”

They both laughed as if Bobby had just made a hilarious joke.

“Why don’t we help ’em out a little and clear away some of the cobwebs,” said Marty. He unhooked a chain from one of his belt loops and, with a flick of his wrist, swung it at the cutouts over the fireplace. Instantly they fell to the floor in tatters.

Terry stared in disbelief. Why didn’t someone do something? Now Marty started to wreck the decorations over the window.

Terry couldn’t stand it anymore. “Hey, man, don’t do that!” he said.

He took a step toward Marty, but Bobby moved faster. Terry felt his head jerk back as if he’d just been hit by a truck. The next thing he knew he was on his back, with Niki’s face, very close and frightened looking, gazing down at him.

He tried to sit up, but Niki pushed him back down. “Don’t try to move,” she whispered.

“Uh-oh. The skinny guy tripped,” Bobby said, grinning. He stared at the others menacingly. “Hope nobody else trips—or anything.”

Marty laughed. They slapped each other high-fives with their black-gloved hands.

These guys sure know how to have a good time, thought Terry. Whatever they’d been drinking or smoking had made them think they were hilarious.

Justine stepped forward again. She was still angry, but Terry saw that now she was also frightened.

“All right, guys,” she said. “So I made a mistake. I was wrong not to invite you to the party. But everything was planned for the nine people who are already here. If you’ll just leave now, I promise I’ll have a special party—just for you—next week.”

“Hey, that’s okay,” said Bobby. “We’re having a great time. Don’t sweat it.” He walked over to the food. Ricky, Angela, and Trisha, who had been standing there, quickly edged away.

Bobby took a big bite of one of the hors d’oeuvres, then spat it out. “Yuck!” he bellowed. “What is this stuff? It tastes like fish!” He turned angrily to Justine. “Haven’t you got any real food here? Chips? Pizza?”

“There’s plenty of pizza on the shelf over there,” said Justine. “Take what you want and—”

“What about drinks?” interrupted Marty. “All I see here is kid stuff.” He turned to Philip, who was sitting on a low stool now, looking sick. “Where do you keep the wine coolers, man?” Marty asked.

“I don’t drink,” said Philip curtly. “I never keep alcohol in the house.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Marty. “What kinda host are you? My friend and I are thirsty.” He grabbed Philip by his lapels.

“Stop it!”

Alex’s sudden yell stopped Marty for a moment. Like a silver streak, Alex crossed the room and grabbed Marty, pulling him away from Philip.

Marty bellowed in rage. Alex’s triumph was short-lived. A moment later Bobby grabbed Alex from behind, then held on to him while Marty kicked him, hard, in the stomach.

“Ohhh.”

With a gasp of pain Alex fell to the floor and lay curled in a ball, gasping for breath.

“Oh, man. Another accident,” said Bobby, stepping over Alex.

While the guests looked on helplessly, Bobby and Marty began to ransack the beautiful old living room, opening doors and cabinets and throwing everything they found onto the floor.

Whenever anyone made a move to stop them, Bobby twirled his chain menacingly. They found a bottle of red wine somewhere and began trading it back and forth.

This has got to stop, Terry told himself. They may be tough, but we’ve got them outnumbered.

Across the room David caught his eye and nodded in the direction of the cycles. Terry nodded back and slowly got up and began to inch toward the machines. Casually he picked up a heavy candlestick from an end table. Niki looked at him, her eyes wide with fright. “It’s okay,” he mouthed soundlessly.

Bobby and Marty were so busy eating and ransacking the room that they didn’t notice Terry and David on their bikes until the air filled with the sound of the engines revving up.

“Hey!” Both Bobby and Marty forgot what they were doing and leapt for the bikes. “Leave those alone!”

But Terry and David were ready for them. Just as the two bikers reached the motorcycles, Terry and David jumped off the seats. Bobby and Marty dived for the two boys, but came up with nothing but air.

With a bellow of rage, Marty stood up and swung his chain at Terry.

Terry caught the end of it with the candlestick. He pulled, and Marty cried out in anger and pain as the chain twisted out of his hand.

Meanwhile, David and Bobby were fighting, rolling over and over on the floor. Bobby was a dirty fighter, but he was half drunk, and David was quicker. He had Bobby down and was pounding his face, causing blood to spurt over both of them. With another blow he stunned Bobby, then stood up, satisfied.

Marty had forgotten about his chain and advanced on Terry threateningly, wildly swinging his fists at him.

Terry kept ducking and moving backward, searching for an opening, a way to stop him. From the corner of his eye he saw David suddenly mount Marty’s bike, turn it around, and gun it out the front door. He jumped off at the last minute.

“Hey, Marty,” David called. “Your bike’s gone home without you!”

Marty looked around in horror, then turned and ran out after his runaway bike.

A second later there was a sickening crash.

“How about we do the same thing to your bike?” Terry said to Bobby, who was just struggling up from the floor.

Without a word, Bobby threw a leg over his bike, his face a bloody mess.

“Tough guys, huh?” Bobby sneered. He glared at Terry first and then David with such hatred that Terry felt his stomach turn over. “You’re dead meat, man. You’re history. Both of you.”

He looked around the room slowly, menacingly. “Later,” he said.

With a final threatening look, he gunned the motorcycle and rode out of the mansion and into the night.