Night Monsters by Lee Allen Howard Read Free Book Online

against the charcoal sky, but the man was looking off to their left. Justin held his breath and lay motionless, hoping the guy wouldn’t see them.
    “You think it’s real funny,” the man said, “but people get killed pullin’ tricks like this. Next time, I’ll hunt you down!”
    Grumbling, he turned and stomped back to his truck. When the door slammed and the engine revved, Drew broke into hysterics. His laughter echoed across the countryside.
    “That was great!” Drew pounded him on the back.
    Justin shoved his arm away. “We could’ve gotten killed, you idiot.”
    “Ya big wuss, he was just trying to scare us, that’s all. He’d’ve never shot us.”
    “Says you.”
    “ Wuss .” Drew stood and brushed himself off. “C’mon. Let’s get back down there—here comes another car.”
    Reluctantly, Justin followed him through the corn to the edge of the road.
    “People get killed pullin’ tricks like this,” Drew growled, mocking the man.
    Justin hunkered behind his bag of corn. He said nothing more to Drew, but he’d had enough of corning cars. If Drew wanted to risk his life, he could do it alone. Yet Justin didn’t want Drew to think he was a wuss. One more car and then he would head home.
    Low-slung and black, the car approached at a crawl.
    “Look,” Justin said, “the headlights are blue.”
    They muttered between themselves, trying to identify the model of the car.
    “Nineteen-sixty-nine Pontiac GTO,” Drew said.
    “Nope, it’s a seventy. It’s got exposed headlights. And it’s not just a GTO, it’s a Judge. See the spoiler?”
    Justin was positive it was a 1970 GTO Judge, of which only 168 convertibles were produced. He knew because his dad had given him a model of one last Christmas. He’d painstakingly assembled it and displayed it on the shelf above his bed. Gran Turismo Omologato, the coolest car ever made. But why would anyone take such an awesome car out on Halloween night when it could get egged or soaped—or corned?
    Justin peeked through the ragged stalks at the oncoming Judge. The windows were tinted black, and its surface reflected no light, as if painted with darkness. It made Justin’s skin crawl.
    A red glow smoldered under the hood scoops, yet no exhaust plumed from behind it.
    “Ready?” Drew hefted a handful of corn.
    Justin dug a fistful and squeezed. The hard kernels bit into the palm of his hand. But then he released his grip, letting the corn trickle to the ground.
    Drew tossed his corn at the windshield—or where the windshield should have been. When the corn hit the car, there was no clatter. The kernels just disappeared—faded into the car and were gone.
    The car stopped abruptly. No squealing tires, no engine rumble. The doors remained closed. The convertible top jerked back silently, revealing the pale figures of three guys not much older than Justin and Drew.
    Justin knew he should run, but something was different about these guys, and he couldn’t break his gaze.
    As if linked to the same cog of some hidden machine, the guys’ heads turned together toward the corn. When their eyes met Justin’s, a chill shot through him. Were they wearing masks? Makeup? Whatever it was, it sure looked gruesome.
    They clambered noiselessly from the vehicle. Wispy black and white beings, they were like guys climbing out of an old photograph.
    When they approached the bank, Drew pushed Justin, and they scrambled through the corn patch. Justin took the lead this time. He couldn’t shake the image of their swiveling heads, their shining eyes like jewels set in gypsum.
    Who were they? Did they have guns? Would they fire?
    He ran as fast as he could, but every time he looked over his shoulder, it seemed their pursuers were drawing closer. A corn stalk sliced his face. He ducked and kept going. Drew followed close behind.
    Glancing back, Justin saw the three figures marching nearer, clawing the chill air, reaching for them. Was this some kind of sick prank? He dodged a