Festival of Fear by Graham Masterton Read Free Book Online Page B

wildly-popping eyes, the soggy black cavity of his nostrils, his grinning lipless teeth.
    He was still screaming and gargling when three of the slaughtermen pulled the dog away. Strong as they were, even they couldn’t hold it, and it twisted away from them and trotted off to the other side of the killing floor, with Mr Le Renges’ face dangling from its jaws like a slippery latex mask.
    I turned to the slaughtermen. They were too shocked to speak. One of them dropped his knife, and then the others did, too, until they rang like bells.
    I stayed in Calais long enough for Nils to finish fixing my car and to make a statement to the sandy-haired police officer. The weather was beginning to grow colder and I wanted to get back to the warmth of Louisiana, not to mention the rare beef muffalettas with gravy and onion strings.
    Velma lent me the money to pay for my auto repairs and the Calais Motor Inn waived all charges because they said I was so public spirited. I was even on the front page of The Quoddy Whirlpool. There was a picture of the mayor whacking me on the back, under the banner headline HAMBURGER HERO.
    Velma came out to say goodbye on the morning I left. It was crisp and cold and the leaves were rattling across the parking lot.
    â€˜Maybe I should come with you,’ she said.
    I shook my head. ‘You got vision, Velma. You can see the thin man inside me and that’s the man you like. But I’m never going to be thin, ever. The poboys call and my stomach always listens.’
    The last I saw of her, she was shading her eyes against the sun, and I have to admit that I was sorry to leave her behind. I’ve never been back to Calais since and I doubt if I ever will. I don’t even know if Tony’s Gourmet Burgers is still there. If it is, though, and you’re tempted to stop in and order one, remember there’s always a risk that any burger you buy from Tony Le Renges is people.

Anka
    â€˜ T hat’s all of them?’ asked Grace, as Kasia came down the stairs, carrying a bundled-up blanket in her arms.
    â€˜The very last one,’ said Kasia. She lifted the corner of the blanket to reveal a boy of about three years old, with a white face and bright red lips and curly black hair. His eyes kept rolling upward and off to the left, and his chin was glistening with dribble. This was little Andrzej, who was suffering from cerebral palsy and a heart murmur.
    â€˜Thank God for that,’ said Grace. ‘Now let’s hope they knock this terrible place down.’
    She took a long look around the hallway: at the faded, olive-green wallpaper and the stringy brown carpet, and the sagging red vinyl couch where visitors were supposed to sit. The windows on either side of the front door were tinted yellow, so that even the air looked as if it were poisoned.
    â€˜So many children have suffered here,’ said Kasia. ‘So much misery. So much sadness.’
    â€˜Come on,’ said Grace. ‘Let’s get out of here. It’s a long drive to Wrocław.’
    â€˜Your husband is coming this evening?’
    â€˜He missed his connecting flight to New York, but he’ll be here by tomorrow morning. He’s bringing Daisy with him.’
    â€˜Oh! You will be so pleased to see her!’
    Grace smiled, and whispered, ‘Yes.’ It had been over a month since she had last seen Daisy, and she had missed her so much that she had been tempted more than once to give up the whole project and fly back home to Philadelphia.
    But each time she had revisited the twenty-seven children in the Katowice orphanage, she had known that she could never abandon them. Ever since she had first been taken to see them, seven months ago, she had been determined to rescue them.
    As Kasia had said, ‘These children, they are not unhappy. To be unhappy, you have to know what it is like to be happy, and these children have never been happy, not for one single moment, from the day they