David L. Robbins - Hell-O-Ween

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HELL-O-WEEN

Chapter One

"Yo, dweeb! Are you ready to go monster hunting?" Seventeen year-old Cory

Fleming knew those words were addressed at him even though the speaker was

behind him. He also knew who it was and knew why the word 'dweeb' had been

stressed to give the insult extra emphasis. So he pushed his glasses higher on

the bridge of his nose, a nervous habit he had formed years ago, before he

reluctantly spun around and said, "Don't call me that, Wes. I don't like it."

Wesley Eagen, seated behind the steering wheel of the brand-new jeep he had

just angled over to the curb, blinked in surprise, then laughed. "Whoa! The

worm turns."

The three other high school seniors in the jeep all smirked at Cory, who

withered inside under their looks of ill-concealed contempt. Across from

Wesley sat Leslie Vanderhorst, daughter of the richest man in Pagosa Springs.

Behind Wes was a fellow star member of the football team, Jay Thorpe, and next

to Jay sat Stacy Curvin, the vivacious blonde who was a shoo-in to be

Homecoming Queen that year. "Hello, Cory said, then added the thought

upper-most on his mind. "Where's Ann?" "Where do you think?" Wesley retorted

and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "She's riding with Scott."

Cory shifted as a second jeep braked behind the first. He saw Scott Miklin

driving and frowned ever so

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had no business going out to thp

e cave with guys and girls who wouldn't give him the time of day in school

except to knock on him when the mood struck them. Then his gaze fell on the

brunette beside Scott, and he forgot all of his worries as her rosy mouth

curled in a genuinely friendly smile. "Hi, Cory. Glad you could make it," Ann

Weatherby said. "Wouldn't miss it for the world," Cory lied. The only reason

he had accepted Scott's invitation was because of Ann. If she wasn't going he

would have told Scott to get screwed-tactfully, of course. "Hello, Cory,"

chimed in the bleached blonde seated behind Scott. Terri Sheehan was Ann's

best friend. Where Ann went, Terri went. What Ann did, Terri did. They had

been inseparable since childhood. "Terri," Cory said, stepping over to their

jeep, a brown model almost as new as Wesley's red one. He simply nodded at

Scott. "How's it hanging, brother?" Scott Miklin asked in his marked New

England accent. Born and raised in Massachusetts, he had moved with his family

to Colorado a year and a half ago. In that time he had become one of the most

popular guys at Pagosa Springs Senior High. At least once a month he held

parties at his house that were the talk of the school. "You all set?" "Yeah,"

Cory replied. "But are you sure I shouldn't bring some food and a flashlight?"

Scott nodded at a green backpack resting on the console between his seat and

Ann's. "We have everything we'll need. Hop in and we'll get this show on the

road." . Although Cory would much rather have sat next to Ann, he climbed in

the back with Terri Sheehan and promptly buckled his seat belt. "Good idea,"

Scott said, grinning. "We wouldn't want you to fall out. Some of the back

country roads are

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rough." He faced front and honked his hom. "Lead the way, Wes!"

Wesley Eagen gave the thumbs-up sign, checked the traffic flow on U.S. Highway

160 and accelerated. "Here we go, ladies and germs," Scott said, stomping on

the gas pedal and pulling out so quickly that his passengers were slammed

against the backrests of their seats. "Scott, please," Ann said in reproach.

"Oh, sorry," Milkin responded, his blue eyes twinkling, giving her a grin that

revealed all of his perfect white teeth. He reached out to stroke her neck.

"Didn't mean to rattle your bones, babe. I'll be careful from here on out."

Cory averted his gaze, unable to bear the sight of Scott touching her.

He absently stared up at the Pizza House situated on a low hill to the

north of the highway, regretting the fact he hadn t gone there after school

instead of agreeing to meet Scott's crowd for this insane trip to the cave.

For someone who got all A's, sometimes he displayed all the intelligence of a

lobotomized baboon. "So tell me, Cory, " Scott said, "ever been to this

Cavern del-whatever before?" "It's called La Cavema del Diablo," Cory said.

"Got its name from the Spanish conquistadors who came to this region searching

for gold. And yes, I was there once with my dad. We. only went in partway,

though." "Why only part of the way?" Scott asked while concentrating on his

driving. "Afraid the monster would nail you?"

Cory ignored the barb. "No one has ever gone all the way. It's one of the

biggest caverns in the entire country, maybe the whole world. Several groups

of professional spelunkers have gone down in, but even they weren't able to

find the bottom." "What the hell are spelunkers?"

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"People who explore caves," Cory explained. "They have a national

organization, and there are several grottos here in Colorado." "What the hell

are grottos?" "Local spelunker clubs. My uncle belongs to one up in Fort

Collins. They spend their weekends traveling to caves all over the state. He

invited me along on a trip to the Groaning Cave once, and I had a great time.

We went in over a thousand feet." "Sounds like fun," Scott said with all the

enthusiasm he might apply to being consumed by a great white shark. "Gosh, you

sure know a lot, Cory," Terri interjected, brushing her short bangs aside.

"I'm glad you came along. I've never been in a cave before, and frankly I'm

not too keen on the idea." "There's nothing to be afraid of," Cory assured

her.

Terri's brown eyes narrowed. "But what about all this monster business? They

say it killed someone a long time ago."

Scott cackled. "Oh, really! Don't tell me you believe that bullshit, Terri?

Only a moron would think there really is a monster down in there." "Of course

I don't," Terri said defensively. "I was just wondering about the legend,

that's all." "Well, I'm sure digithead can tell you," Scott replied. "He knows

everything. That's why everyone calls him a walking encyclopedia."

Cory scowled and looked away so Scott wouldn't notice in the rearview mirror.

The wind stirred his brown hair and felt cool on his face, relieving some of

the burning fury that raged within him. He was such a twink! He should have

known better than to expect to be treated differently after so many years of

being viewed as Pagosa Springs's prime dork. And all because he would rather

read a good book than go see a stupid

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slasher movie or work on a science experiment instead of cruising for foxes or

guzzling six-packs until he dropped. Oh, he had his share of close friends,

mainly brains like him. But the jocks and the in-crowd had always looked down

their collective noses at him and undoubtedly always would.

He sat in morose silence, idly observing the magnificent scenery as the jeeps

passed beyond the town limits of Pagosa Springs and traveled southwest on

160 until they came to a dirt road that branched off to the northwest. Wesley

and Scott turned onto it, and for the next few miles the only buildings they

saw were ranch houses and barns. Soon a sign appeared informing them that they

were about to enter the San Juan National Forest, and a minute later they were

hemmed in on both sides by virgin wilderness, sur-

rounded by a green sea of towering somber pines. Far to the north of them

reared the mysterious San Juan Mountains, one of the least explored regions in

the entire United States. Jagged peaks over two and a half miles high were

capped with sparkling snow, resembling ghostly spires as they shimmered in the

late afternoon sun.

Cory looked to the east and spied the pale full moon already above the

horizon. Good, he thought. The trick or treaters would have the benefit of

bright moonlight when they made their rounds. His younger brother, Bert, who

was only six, would be going out with their mother. He recalled how Bert had

begged him to go along and how he had refused. "Halloween is for kids," he had

said, pretending not to notice the hurt in Bert's innocent eyes. Guilt

assailed him, and he sank back in his seat.

Here he was, the big, mature high school senior on his way to the infamous

Caverna del Diablo to spend Halloween with other seniors who felt it was

beneath

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David Robbins

their dignity to go out trick or treating at their age. Instead, they were

going to spend the evening in a supposedly haunted cave. Now that he viewed

the matter objectively he realized they were being as juvenile as his little

brother, maybe more so. At least his brother had the good sense not to enter a

cave where a number of people had disappeared.

Say, Cory," Ann Weatherby unexpectedly said, twisting in her seat. "What have

you been up to lately?" "Oh, the usual," he responded lamely, deliber-ately

avoiding her gaze. "You haven't been over in a long time," Ann added.

Cory shrugged. "Been busy. You know how it is." "I miss our talks," Ann said.

Scott Miklin glanced over his right shoulder. "That's right, dude. Ann tells

me the two of you have been next-door neighbors since you were munchkins. Grew

up together and all that." "We're good friends," Cory said, although deep down

he longed to be so much more. Ann Weatherby had always held a special place in

his heart, especially after that time when they were ten and had hidden in her

father's shed so they could play doctor undisturbed. Playing doctor had always

been a favorite game of theirs. But after that day they had never played it

again, nor had Ann spoken to him for two years. "And in all that time you

never hit on her?" Scott inquired ever so politely. "Scott!" Ann said. "Sorry,

babe," Scott responded, smiling sweetly. "But your good friend must have rocks

for br-ains. If you were my neighbor I would have latched onto you ages ago."

Cory felt his cheeks tingle and hoped he wasn't blushing. Memories of that day

in the shed overwhelmed him, and he squirmed uncomfortably. Dear God! What had

he been thinking of? And at his age, too! Who

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would ever expect a ten year-old to do such a thing? "You promised that you

wouldn't give Cory a hard time,'nr1T1'V Wlol@@!, Scott. "And I'm keeping my

word," Scott retorted indignantly. He glanced at Cory once more. "Hey, dude,

do you think I'm picking on you?" "Not at all," Cory said, secretly wishing he

could bash Scott's head in with a baseball bat. "See." Scott gloated at Ann.

"I promised you we'd all be on our best behavior and we will be. You'll see.

Your good friend will feel right at home."

Why did Scott keep referring to him that way? Cory wondered. Ann gave him a

reassuring smile, and he smiled back, then made bold to ask, "Whose idea was

this?" "What do you mean?" she rejoined. "Who came up with the idea to ask me

to come along?" Cory clarified, dreading her answer.

I did," Ann confessed. "You don't get out much, and I figured you would like

to have some fun. Scott agreed and invited you. Is there something wrong?"

"No," Cory said, his stomach doing flip-flops. So there it was. But why should

she be concerned about his well-being after all this time? It was true that

they had become friends again two years after the shed incident and he had

spent many a lazy afternoon shooting the breeze with her about everything

under the sun, but they had never been as close as they were before the shed.

And due to her outstanding looks and outgoing nature she had easily fitted

into the most exclusive clique in the school, they had rarely mingled

socially. Now all of a sudden she wanted him to join them on an outing deep

into the mountains. It made no sense.

The dirt road forked, and the two jeeps swung to the left. Immediately the

road narrowed and became rockier. Countless ruts marred the surface, the

result of heavy erosion caused by frequent thunderstorms

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during the spring and summer months, and Wesley and Scott had to steer

carefully to avoid becoming hung up or damaging the undercarriages on their

jeeps. From that point onward only four-wheel-drive vehicles could negotiate

the twisting roadway. At that time of year and so late in the day it was

unlikely they would encounter other four-wheelers.

To the west loomed Horse Mountain. South of it, invisible from where they

were, was Chimney Rock. In the summer the area would be crawling with campers

and hikers, but this late in the season only hunters penetrated any distance

into the national- forest, and they seldom if ever ventured into the area near

the cave. Old-timers like Cory's grandfather swore there was little game in

the general vicinity of the Cavema del Diablo although the mountains around it

teemed with mule deer and bears. "Hey, Cory," Scott said, "you didn't tell

your folks, did you?" "No," Cory replied. "I kept it a secret like you

wanted." He wished now he had told his mom and dad. If something should go

wrong and they wound up stranded, it would be nice to know a rescue party

would soon be sent to find them. But Scott had insisted on keeping their jaunt

to themselves, and he'd had a valid reason. The cave was in a remote area, and

although it wasn't hard to find and contained no hazards for those who stayed

in the upper levels, there was always an element of risk involved. It was

unlikely any of their parents would have permitted them to go.

11 Excellent," Scott Said, then added suspiciously, "What did you tell them?"

"That I was going to be at Zack McCoy's until late, working on our joint entry

in the science fair. They know we've been developing a project to demonstrate

how industrial and automobile pollution deranges the global ecosystem and-."

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"Yeah, yeah," Scott interrupted. "Just so they won't come looking for you." He

snickered. "We don't need our parents messing up all our plans. This is

shaping up to be one def Halloween. Besides, we're old enough to decide what

we want to do without having them looking over our shoulders every damn minute

of every day."

Terri opened her mouth to say something but apparently changed her mind and

glumly stared down at her lap. The short black skirt she wore was riding high

on her pudgy thighs so she smoothed it down, then frowned.

Cory looked at Ann. "What did you tell your folks?" "That I was spending the

night at Terri's. Terri told her parents that she was spending the night with

me. With luck they won't suspect a thing."

As the road started to climb the air became cooler. Dense walls of vegetation

partially obstructed the views to the tight and the left. After five minutes

the road slanted to the northwest, skirting Horse Moun@ tain and bearing into

the very heart of the foreboding San Juan Mountains. They came over a rise,

descended a hill and crossed a shallow creek between a pair of deep pools.

"Look at those," Ann commented. "I bet my dad would like to fish here. He's

always looking for new spots." "He'd be wasting his time," Cory said. "This is

Devil Creek. Has hardly any fish in it. Something to do with enhanced acidity

in the water. I once read an article on the imbalance in a regional science

journal. They say this is the only stream in the state that has the problem."

Scott took his eyes off the road long enough to caustically ask, "Is there

anything you don't know?"

Again Cory lapsed into silence. Despite himself, he was intimidated by Scott's

attitude. All those years of

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being the brunt of countless jokes about his 10 had taken their emotional

toll. Rather than make an issue of an insult and perhaps spark a fight, he had

learned to keep his mouth shut and weather the slings and barbs of his callous

classmates. He'd been in more than his share of scraps when he was younger,

and he'd learned the hard way that earning a bloody nose or a black eye in the

defense of his dignity wasn't worth it.

The bumpy road wound ever deeper into the San Juans. They continued to climb

steadily, and the temperature continued to gradually drop. Through valleys and

over mountains they went, at times carefully navigating a ribbon of roadway

that seemed glued to the sheer side of a cliff while above them perched

massive boulders capable of crushing their vehicles to bits should a rock

slide accidentally start. "Geez," Terri breathed at one point as they crested

a ridge thousands of feet above a verdant valley floor. "This gives me the

creeps. What if we go over the side?" "Then theyll be scraping us up with

putty knives," Scott said and laughed.

I don't think that's funny," Terri said anxiously. "I'm not very fond of

heights." "Don't worry. We won't go over the edge," Ann assured her and shot

Scott a hard glance.

Cory saw Miklin look at her, grin and blow her a kiss. Peeved, he gazed past

them out the windshield and was alarmed to behold a sharp curve abruptly

appear. With a start he realized the jeep was making str-aight for the brink!

"Look out!" he cried, leaning forward, and listened in dismay to the

screeching of the tires as Scott slammed on the brakes and the wheels locked.

The jeep went into a skid, raising a cloud of dust as it slid closer and

closer to the rim.

Terri screamed. Ann gripped the dashboard with both hands.

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Stark fear rippled down Cory's spine. He saw the edge sweep toward them and

mentally ticked off the distance. Ten feet. Eight feet. Six feet. He threw an

arm out to clutch Ann's shoulder and hold her steady so she wouldn't crash

through the windshield when they went over. Then the jeep slowed dramatically,

gravel spewing out from under its skewing tires, and came to a lurching halt

within inches of eternity. For a minute no one uttered a word as dirt and

small stones cascaded over the brink and rained down on a section of woodland

over 1000 feet below. "Jesus!" Terri Sheehan finally exclaimed, glaring at

Scott. "You nearly got us all killed." "Oh, bull. I had everything under

control," Scott retorted angrily.

Cory exhaled in relief. Ann turned to regard him with a strange expression,

and he became aware that his hand still rested on her shoulder. "Oh, sorry,"

he mumbled, jerking it back. "I thought you might go through the windshield."

"Thank you," Ann said softly. "Hell!" Scott growled. "Let's catch up with the

others before they become worried about us." He spun the steering wheel and

got them back in the middle of the road.

Leaning back, Cory closed his eyes and waited for his racing pulse to return

to normal. His heart thumped heavily. Another second or two and they would all

have been goners. The mishap reminded him that their jaunt into the remote

mountains wasn't to be taken lightly. Up to a dozen or more people lost their

lives from a variety of causes each and every year in Colorado's vast

wilderness. They might become lost while out hunting or hiking and succumb to

hypothermia. They might be skiing out of bounds and be caught in an avalanche.

Or, like Scott, they might fail to pay attention to the serpentine mountain

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highways and pay for their neglect with their mangled bodies.

The close call had a positive effect on Scott. He now devoted his entire

attention to driving and maintained a prudent speed for the next six miles.

Gradually the sun sank toward the horizon. In the valleys the dark shadows

lengthened. The heights were still aglow for awhile, but eventually the crags

and peaks were likewise shrouded in twilight. Wes and Scott flicked on their

jeep headlights.

A thin ring of rosy sunlight crowned the mountains to the west when the two

vehicles rumbled up a steep incline and came out in a great natural bowl

hemmed in on three sides by enormous cliffs that gave the illusion of touching

the few gray clouds drifting like eerie wraiths across the murky sky. At the

base of the cliff to the north was an immense black opening. "Hot damn!" Scott

whooped. "We're here!"

Cory stared at the inky entrance to the Caverna del Diablo and felt his mouth

go inexplicably dry.

Chapter Two

Wesley Eagen slid out of his father's new jeep, stretched and breathed deep.

The rarified air bit deep into his lungs, invigorating him. All that bouncing

had jarred his kidneys mercilessly, and he couldn't wait to relieve himself.

He turned as Scott parked next to his vehicle, killed the engine and hopped

out. "About damn time we got here," he declared. I didn't expect it to be

quite this far." "We made it, Wes. That's all that counts," Scott said and

winked.

Everyone else was piling out. The sight of Cory Fleming caused Wes to turn

away so the dork wouldn't see the anger that hardened his features. He had

to-will himself to calm down, to not let his hatred show. After all the

trouble Scott and he had gone to in tricking Fleming into joining their

Halloween outing, he didn't want to ruin everything by giving their intention

away too soon. He composed himself just as a hand touched his left arm. "You

okay, lover?"

Wes turned and nearly bumped into Leslie Vanderhorst. She was standing so

close to him that her full breasts brushed against his chest-not that he

minded. He inhaled the tantalizing fragrance of her perfume, gazed into her

concerned lake-blue eyes and impulsively grabbed her to plant a kiss on her

full red lips. Of all the babes he had ever dated, she was the best, the

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cr@me de la cr@me as his French teacher might say. .What was that for?" she

asked, giggling. "Can't a guy kiss his girl without the third degree)" Wes

rejoined and playfully gave her thigh a light pinch. "You looked upset a

second ago," Leslie said. "Me? When do I ever let anything get to me?" "Hardly

ever," Leslie admitted, idly brushing at her hip-length red hair. Her lavender

blouse, which fit her as tightly as her panty hose, threatened to burst with

the movement.

It was all Wes could do not to grab her globes and squeeze until she squealed.

Next to Stacy Curvin, Leslie had the best body in the whole student body at

Pagosa Springs High School. And he wasn't the only guy who thought so. Before

he came along she had dated every jock in the school, never sticking with one

for very long. Then, two months ago, he had dated her for the first time and

screwed her senseless in the back seat of his father's Caddy. She had been

with him ever since, exclusively his.

Scott Miklin cleared his throat. "Let's pass out the backpacks, people.

Everyone will need a flashlight. And anyone who has to take a leak should do

so before we get down in the cave." He caught Wes's eye and nodded at a

cluster of bushes ten yards from the jeeps. "I need to empty the old bladder,"

Wesley said and trailed Scott to the bushes. Once they were out of sight of

the others, he unzipped his fly and began saturating the soil at his feet.

"What's up?"

Scott had turned sideways so Wes couldn't see his organ. He grunted as he

sprayed a rock and said over his shoulder, "So far, so good. Cory doesn't

suspect a thing."

I can hardly wait to roast that son of a bitch," Wes declared. "just don't

give everything away before we're down far enough. We want him where it won't

be easy for

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him to get out of the cave once the fun begins."

Wes chuckled in keen anticipation. "I can't believe the dweeb was stupid

enough to fall for this. How could he think that we really wanted him along?"

"It's Ann," Scott said gruffly. "You still figure Cory has the hots; for her?"

"I know the bastard does. I was keeping my eye on him in the rearview mirTor

all the way up here. You should have seen the way he looked at her, like a

lousy puppy in love." "Think she likes him?" "I don't know," Scott said. "I've

only been out with her twice." He stopped peeing and shook his pecker,

spattering a few lingering drops on the ground. I really don't give a damn one

way or the other. She was the bait to get him here."

Wesley slipped his manhood back into his pants. "I appreciate all the trouble

you've gone to for me. Hope I can pay you back one day." "Once you told me

that you wanted to nail his ass, it was the least I could do," Scott said,

zipping up and pivoting. "We're best buddies, aren't we?" "You know it," Wes

agreed and sniffed. "Say, did you bring some stuff along?"

Scott grinned. "Does a bear crap in the woods?." "Excellent," Wes said and led

the way back to the jeeps. Leslie, Ann, and Terri were chatting away next to

his. Everyone else, including that prick Cory, was straying in from different

directions, having heeded the call of nature. In a pile in front of Scott's

jeep were the four backpacks. Nearby were four flashlights.

Jay Thorpe, who topped out at six-foot-two and weighed 250 pounds, whooped and

jabbed a finger at the cave entrance. "What a bodacious way to spend

Halloween! It will be just like back in caveman times." He thumped his huge

chest like a gorilla and did a pathetic imitation of a Tarzan yell, then

beamed at his

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cleverness. Stacy Curvin, his girlfriend, was the only one who bothered to

laugh.

Wesley had always considered Jay as being about 90 bricks shy of a 100 brick

load, but he wasn't about to say as much when Jay could break every bone in

his body without working up a sweat. Another reason Wes never made fun of the

hulking mass of muscle was that Jay qualified as the football team's best

guard, and since as quarterback Wes relied on Jay to protect him from

onrushing opponents who wanted to separate his head from his body, Wes always

made it a point to never, ever antagonize Pagosa Springs's answer to King

Kong.

Scott stepped over to their gear. "Each of the guys will take a backpack and a

flashlight." "What about us?" Ann asked. "Your hands will be free to do with

them as you please," Scott replied and leered suggestively. "And I trust you

ladies know what to do with them." "Don't be crude," Ann chided him.

Stacy Curvin, every inch a blonde bombshell, her thin pink top and short pink

shorts leaving nothing to the imagination, looked at Ann and frowned. "Who

died and appointed you the Virgin Mary?" "why, Stacy," Ann replied coolly,

"I'm surprised you've even heard of her. When do you find the time to read the

Bible when you spend most of each day flat on your back?"

Wes winced. The last thing they needed was for the girls to get into it right

now. A serious argument or a cat fight would jeopardize the whole deal. The

girls might want to be taken home, spoiling his well-laid plans. He saw Stacy

ball her fist and take a step toward Ann, tensed for the worst. "Ladies!

Ladies!" Scott cried, moving quickly between them with his arms extended to

keep them from each other's throat. "What's with all this hostility?

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We're all friends, aren't we? And didn't we drive all this distance to spend a

bitchin'Halloween in the cave?" He glanced at each of them. "it would be a

shame to spoil everything because the two of you can't control your tempers."

He paused and lowered his voice, pretending he didn't want anyone else to hear

but them. "What is it? The time of the month?"

Jay roared, and as if on cue Stacy laughed heartily. Wes noticed that Ann

didn't so much as crack a grin. Now there was a cold mama! he told himself,

which

was a pity. Ann Weatherby was almost as choice a fox as Stacy or Leslie, but

where those two knew how to treat a guy to a great time Ann had a reputation

for being as frigid as an iceberg. She'd neck heavy and let a guy play finger

tag with her box, but she refused to go all the way. Must have been her

upbringing, he reasoned. Her parents warped her for life. "If you want a

flashlight," Scott was telling Ann, "you can have mine." He leaned down and

picked up one of the bright yellow jobs. "But as you can see these are big

mothers. Four of them will light up the cave as if it were daylight in there."

He motioned for her to take the one he held. I just figured you'd want your

hands free in case we have to do any climbing." "Oh," Ann said. "You keep it

then. I'll be fine."

Wesley grinned. He had to hand it to Scott. The guy had a golden tongue. If

Scott ever became a car salesman he'd sell more cars in one month than most

salesmen did in a year. "What did you bring in those backpacks?" Cory

inquired. .Munchies galore, rope in case we need it, spare batteries and

plenty of candles and matches," Scott answered. "Why? Don't you believe I'm

smart enough to pack everything we'd need?"

I never said that,' Cory replied, walking over and taking one of the red

packs. "I was just curious." He

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hefted it, testing its weight. "Did you bring a cornpass?" "What the hell do

we need a compass for? We go down, we come up. It's as simple as that."

Cory slipped an arm into one of the straps on his backpack. "Hundreds of

passageways are repor-ted to be in the Cavema del Diablo, and many of them

twist and turn every which way. It's like a maze down there. The cave hasn't

even been fully mapped out yet. Only 4* about a third of the tunnels

have been properly measured and documented by the speleological society." "The

what?" "Those spelunkers I told you about."

Scott gestured angrily at the cave with the yellow flashlight. "We don't need

a damn compass and we sure don't need a stinking map. We're high school

seniors. I think we're bright enough to find our way out." He nodded at the

packs. "And for your infor-niation, in one of those I put a rock hammer and

chisel. We can mark the tunnels we take if we have to and find our way back up

easily." "Sounds good to me," Wes said, in-itated that Cory would see fit to

question Scott's ability. By common consent Scott was the leader of their

little foray into the depths of the cave, as he was on most of their outings

whether it be to the big mall in Durango or merely a hike into the national

forest. *

I guess that will have to do," Cory said, his iefiei lackin conviction.

9 Jay Thorpe jabbed a thick finger at him. "If you don't I like it, Fleming,

you don't have to come in with us." 11

Panic seized Wesley. He was afraid Jay would antagonize Cory and the dweeb

would change his mind and j decide to stay up above with the jeeps.

If that happened I all their scheming would have been wasted. So in order to

pacify Cory, as much as he disliked doing so, he came to the dork's defense.

"Lighten up, you guys. Cory is a

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brain, remember? It's only natural for him to consider every angle. We should

be grateful he's so concerned about our safety."

Scott caught on instantly. "Yeah, Wes is right. SorTy, Cory. Nothing

personal." . "No harm done," Cory said, putting his other arm through the

opposite strap.

Wes stepped up to get one of the backpacks and a flashlight for himself. He

adjusted the straps to give the pack a snug fit, then tested the push-button

switch on the flashlight. A wide beam of incredibly bright light stabbed the

darkness, illuminating the cave entrance and the rock wall surTounding it.

"Jesus, you weren't kidding about these things. I could reach the moon with

this baby," he said, tilting the beam toward the impassive lunar face

dominating the heavens.

Scott and Jay donned their backpacks, and everyone moved toward the cavemous

mouth that seemed to be gaping wide to admit them. "Hey, listen!" Terri

Sheehan exclaimed.

They all halted, and Wes turned toward her, straining his ears to catch the

faintest sounds. But there were none. "I don't hear a thing," he said. "That's

just it. There should be animal and insect noises, yet it's as quiet as a

tomb. It's not natural," Ter-ri said. "The cliffs probably block off most

sounds," Wes said testily. Next to Cory Fleming, he despised Ter-ri the most.

It wasn't her personality, since he never hung around with her and didn't know

her well enough to know what she was like. He despised her because she was a

leech, a bimbo who glued herself to a more attractive and popular friend, in

this case Ann Weatherby, and got a free ride as a result. Because everyone

knew the two were like sisters, whenever someone wanted to invite Ann to a

party or to go somewhere they had to invite Ter-ri along also. Terri didn't

ear-n her social

David Robbins

status. She was Ann's shadow, nothing more. "Oh, I never thought of that," she

now responded. "We can't all be an Einstein," Wes said, resisting an urge to

give Fleming a meaningful look so everyone would know who he meant. Instead,

he hiked up a faint path to the cave and played his flashlight beam over the

imposing cliffs on either side. The others joined him. "Hey, what are those?"

Stacy asked, pointing at a spot just above the opening.

Cory, Scott and Jay trained their lights on the smooth rock wall. "Whoa!" Wes

said, amused by the sight the combined illumination revealed. Ages ago a

series of symbols had been painted on the stone surface. The passage of time

and the onslaught of the elements had eroded them to where they were barely

legible. Not so, though, with the bizarre figure painted in bright red

underneath the symbols. Almost the size of a full- il grown man, the

creature depicted had a repulsive face, a lean torso and legs like the rear

legs of an elk. Hairless and slightly stooped, it also sported fingers that

w @ were more like talons and twin knobs a fe long jutting upward from the top

of its forehead.

Leslie giggled. "That thing looks like the Devil." "Some religious nut must

have painted it," Stacy said. "Not exactly," Cory stated. "Experts say the

symbols were painted by the Spanish centuries ago." "What do they mean?"

Leslie asked. "No one knows for certain," Cory said.

Wes could see why. The symbols made no sense whatsoever. There were

four of them arranged in a row, as if they formed a sentence. On the far left

was what appeared to be an odd sort of hat or helmet with a creased crown that

came to a point at the front. Next to it were two curved lines aligned

vertically so that

Hell-O-Ween

their curves touched, while down the center of each

ran a straight line. The third symbol was a crude cross, drawn as two posts,

the vertical post thicker and more pointed than the horizontal one. And

finally the fourth consisted of a rectangle bisected by short vertical lines.

it was all Greek to him. "What about that monster?" Terri inquired. "Did the

Spanish paint that, too?" "The experts don't think so, but they have no idea

who, did. Oddly, the paint never fades. They guess it has something to do with

the rare pigments used," Cory explained.

Terri moved closer and stared at the crimson form. "it does look like the

Devil, doesn't it?" "Don't be stupid," Wes snapped. "It's some goblin or

other. Those old-timers were a bunch of superstitious geeks." "I wouldn't

dismiss Terri's statement out of hand," Cory said. "This is the Caverna del

Diablo." "Yeah? So?" Wes responded, peeved yet again by Fleming's

know-everything attitude.

Cory sighed. "The Caverna del Diablo is Spanish for the Cavern of the Devil."

Wes glanced at the red creature again. Maybe there was a similarity between it

and the pictures of Satan he remembered from Sunday School. But so what? He'd

stopped going to church when he turned 16 because by then he'd learned the

truth. All those boring sermons and all that constant quoting from the Bible

had just been so much mumbo jumbo the church used to keep the dumb sheep in

line. He knew better. He wasn't anyone's fool. "Big frigging deal," he said.

"The Devil is nothing but a fairy tale. Only an idiot would think it's real."

"I'm not an idiot," Ann Weatherby said, "and I happen to believe there is such

a thing as the Devil." "Yeah, me too," Terri said.

David Robbins

Scott stepped forward. "Does it matter one way or the other? Whether the Devil

does or doesn't exist, he sure as hell doesn't live in this cave. So why don't

we quit bickering and get on with it? We're wasting valuable time." "You've

got that straight, dude," Jay declared while moving into the opening, Stacy

walking by his si@e; with her hand in his. "Let's cut the bullshit and explore

this sucker." "Now you're talking," Wes said. "I'll take the lead," Scott

offered and stepped a few yards in advance of the group. "Keep close to one

another, and if you should stray off and get lost give a yell and the rest of

us will come running." He looked at Cory. "Is that adequate or should we tie

the rope around our waists?"

Wes could almost see Cory squirm inside. The dork didn't like the sarcasm in

Scott's tone, but he wasn't man enough to do anything about it. "The rope

shouldn't be necessary," Cory said. "Then let's go," Scott stated, starting

forward.

Beyond the entrance was a spacious level chamber with a high vaulted ceiling.

in the dust at their feet were scores of footprints left by previous souls

brave enough to venture deep into the unknown.

Wes stayed behind Jay and Stacy. He admired the way her tight ass wiggled when

she walked, then quickly glanced away when Leslie came up beside him. "Wasn't

that painting a little spooky?" she asked almost in a whisper, as if afraid to

naise her voice in the cavern. "Only for kids," Wesley responded, letting his

eyes rove over her assets. Why had he risked life and limb ogling Jay@s girl

when he had one who was every bit as gorgeous? Leslie's full breasts were

enough to make any guy drool. And if all went right, he'd be holding them in

his hot hands before the night was out. The

Hell-O-Wei@n

thought made his manhood twitch, and he grinned. "Are you laughing at me? Do

you think I'm a kid?" "No, of course not," Wes said and lied to avoid arousing

her touchy temper. I was thinking of all the fun we're going to have with

the-` Suddenly he stopped, aware he was about to blurt out the secret behind

inviting Cory along. Only Scott and he knew the real reason they'd asked the

bastard to come. The others might not appreciate the humor of it, not even

Jay. Thorpe was a monster on the playing field but had a soft heart at times.

Once Jay had caught a guy tying firecrackers to a cat's tail and beaten the

poor slob within an inch of his life. Another time an idiot had thrown a

balloon filled with water at Jay's younger sister at the swimming pool. It had

taken three lifeguards to pull Jay off the sap before Jay drowned him. "With

the what?" Leslie probed. "What were you about to say?"

Wesley's mind raced. "With the bunch of beautiful babes we have with us

tonight," he said and leaned toward her so only she would hear. "Myself, I

can't wait to get you alone for a while. We haven't necked in over a week, and

I'm going through withdrawal. I've started to act weird." He contorted his

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HELL-O-WEENChapterOne"Yo,dweeb!Areyoureadytogomonsterhunting?"Seventeenyear-oldCoryFlemingknewthosewordswereaddressedathimeventhoughthespeakerwasbehindhim.Healsoknewwhoitwasandknewwhytheword'dweeb'hadbeenstressedtogivetheinsultextraemphasis.Sohepushedhisglasseshigheronthebridgeofhisnose,anervoushabi...

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David L. Robbins - Hell-O-Ween

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