Coven by David Barnett Read Free Book Online Page B

slowly…
    Penelope screamed like a train whistle. Mr.
Sladder leapt right. A pitchfork leaned out from the half door
of the last stall. He was reaching for it, touching it, grabbing
it. Then—
    chunk.
    Mr. Sladder made an
indescribable sound, not a scream but a compressed suck. The ax chopped his
arm off against the half door.
    Now the figure struggled to remove the blade
from the wood. Mr. Sladder pushed Penelope down the hall, to the
stablemaster’s office and locked the door.
    Sladder held the light while instructing
Penelope to tie off his stump with a shoelace. Blood glistened at
his feet. The old man’s remaining hand dug into his pocket and
withdrew a pistol.
    But the gun looked puny, while the figure
outside, she knew, was huge, and so was the ax. How could something
this small stop something that big?
    Mr. Sladder got up, gripping the tiny gun.
“You just sit tight, sweetie. I’m gonna poke some holes in that tub
o’ lard out there. Ain’t gonna let no sick sons a bitches get their
grubby paws on you, that’s fer sure.”
    “ But he has that giant ax!
He’ll kill you!”
    “ Tojo and his whole fudgin’
army couldn’t kill me, puddin’. Be dagged if some fat lughead’s
gonna rub me out.”
    Mr. Sladder’s resolve was
noble and obvious. Though he’d just been divorced of three quarters
of his right arm, he put his fear aside. He would let this
intruder, this animal killer, have Penelope only over his dead
body. It was that simple. If you want the
girl, you go through me first. Becalmed,
then, he opened the door and stepped into the aisle.
    Penelope peeped around. The massive figure
had stopped halfway down the corridor. He held the ax from shoulder
to hip.
    “ Hey, you fat tub!” Mr.
Sladder yelled. “Puttin’ in some overtime with the knife and fork,
huh? Fellas don’t come no fatter, that’s for dag sure.”
    The figure faltered. “I’m not fat,” it said.
“A trifle overweight perhaps, but I wouldn’t say—”
    Mr. Sladder laughed. “Trifle! Who you
kiddin’ trifle? I seen sea cows in Disney World skinnier than you,
ya big tub!”
    “ This is absurd,” the
figure said. “I won’t stand for this.”
    “ I’m surprised you can
stand at all, fat as you are.”
    The ax raised. The figure, offended, took a
step—
    — and Mr. Sladder fired the
pistol.
    Penelope flinched. It
wasn’t like TV—the tiny gun made a loud, irritating pop! Then came a ping! A bullet ricocheted
off the giant, flat ax blade. Mr. Sladder fired again. The figure
howled, fell down, and crawled out the exit.
    “ He shot me!” he bellowed
outside. “He shot me in the ass!”
    “ Dag straight!” Mr. Sladder
affirmed, waving his stump. “Come on back for another if ya like,
fatso!”
    Penelope squealed, this time in delight. The
tiny gun had worked! But then Mr. Sladder said, very slowly:
    “ What in creepin’ Moses is
this?”
    Two more figures stepped in the doorway,
sleek, slim. They were just standing there. They looked
like…women.
    — Hello, they said.
    But what was that? What was going on?
    — We want to eat,
please!
    They began to step forward.
    “ You just turn right
around!” Mr. Sladder ordered.
    The twin silhouettes continued.
    “ I ain’t kiddin’,
sweethearts! Dag dabbit, I ain’t one fer shootin’ a couple of gals,
so don’t ya come no closer!”
    The figures weren’t stopping, and clearly
weren’t going to.
    “ Daggit! I warned ya, so
here it comes!”
    Four even shots slapped in Penelope’s ears;
she clenched her teeth. When she looked again, the two figures were
still coming.
    Mr. Sladder scurried back, dragged Penelope
out. “Come on, honey. Dag Saturday night specials, can’t hit fudge
with ’em. I musta missed all four times.”
    “ Shoot more!” Penelope
screamed.
    “ I ain’t got no more
bullets! Now come on!”
    They scrambled down the
main stable walk, pushing through swing doors, bam, bam, bam, one after another. Mr.
Sladder burst through the last one before