The Evil of Hammond House Ch. 3

They made their way back to the foyer.

"Still no sign of Dr. Hammond," Angela observed. "He's got to be around here somewhere."

She followed Mark up the stairs to the Upper West Wing.

"It seemed like a fair amount of time went by between Carl's and Robert's murder. I hope that implies Hammond had to take Lisa somewhere secure and do whatever he had to do to her and then return for Brenda. If I'm right -- and there's no guarantee I am -- we still have a little margin of safety before he comes looking for us."

They walked carefully down the hall, looking for open rooms or any other clue that would direct them to Hammond's study, as well as listening for sounds other than their own. Their search turned up nothing until they reached the last room on the right. The door was ajar and a light was still on. Mark held the dagger out and used it to open the door. It swung open effortlessly to reveal a Victorian-style den with a large oak desk on the far wall. The light came from a green banker's lamp on the desk and, next to it, lay a modern, multi-line telephone.

Mark and Angela moved quickly but quietly towards the desk, expecting someone or something to lunge out at the last minute and foil their attempt at calling for help. But no such attack occurred. Instead, the other typical thing they'd expect in this situation happened: the phone was dead. They punched every button and checked every line, but it was hopeless. The phone had been disabled.

Mark had to restrain himself from slamming down the receiver. Angela, though, was a little more level-headed and started searching Hammond's desk for car keys. The third drawer was a charm for her as she extracted a handful of jingling metal. Mark took the keys, made a checkmark in the air in front of her and then motioned her to stay at the desk while he checked the hall.

"Now all we need to do is get out to the garage and get out of here. Should be simple enough," he said as he stepped out into the hall and turned to motion for Angela to join him.

"Not so simple as you think, Mr. Petri," came the mask-muffled voice from the figure holding a crossbow at point-blank range to Angela's chest. Behind them there was an open panel in the wall of the study and, beyond, a dimly-lit stone passageway.

"Convenient, you must admit, having secret passages in one's home. I told you my grandfather built this house, but I didn't tell you how he managed to afford it. Booze, young man. My grandfather was the biggest whiskey-runner in these parts during the Prohibition days and this place made it easy to produce and store all the bootleg liquor you could want. Pretty profitable stuff back then. Now it's just as common as water, but far deadlier..."

Mark's fury grew as he realized they must have been easy targets from the very beginning. There were probably access panels to every room in the house and that's how Robert and Carl had been killed.

"The game's over, Hammond. Stop acting it like you're in a silent melodrama. You don't play the moustache-twirling villain very well."

The figure reached a hand up and removed the mask. Indeed, it was Dr. Olias Hammond underneath. Once a healer, now a maniacal butcher. Mark moved towards him, but the flash of the arrow pointed at Angela's breast stayed him. Angela's eyes pleaded with Mark for him to save her, but he honestly didn't know how at this point, except to play for time.

"What do you want, doctor?"

"I have most of what I want, Mr. Petri. I have the blonde and the young Asian woman, now I have Miss Smith."

Angela's hopes went up at these words, but Mark was still doubtful.

"You said you had most of what you want. What else is there?" asked Mark.

"No witnesses," replied Hammond and, in a blur, swung the crossbow towards the door, firing.

Three mistakes were made at that moment. The doctor fired while swinging the weapon, thus spoiling his aim. The bolt slammed into the door frame. Mark, not waiting to find out about his accuracy, dove out of the way. Unfortunately he dove to the left, effectively trapping himself at the end of the hallway on the second floor. The third mistake? Hammond was temporarily relieved of a loaded weapon.

Angela lunged at the doctor and drove the surprised physician against the wall near the door. The impact dazed him a bit, though not enough to keep him from trying to fight her off. Angela continued pounding on him, but in her fury she was giving him all sorts of opportunities to lash out and do some significant damage. She was just beginning to wonder why he seemed to be holding back when he swept her leg out from under her. She fell to her knees and he struck her hard on the back with the flats of his hands, winding her and causing her to fall on her stomach. This gave the doctor time to grab another bolt from his coat and reload the crossbow. He flew out the door at the same time he cocked the weapon. Mark had just gotten up off the floor and turned, dagger raised, when Hammond came into the hall. Mark let the dagger fly from the tip, but it embedded itself in the paneling about two feet from the doctor's chest. Hammond smiled and raised the crossbow, pointing the arrow right at Mark as he stood by the large stained-glass window at the end of the corridor. The killer smiled.

"Why are you making it so difficult? The other men, they didn't put up a struggle. They accepted their fate, like all of their kind should."

Mark's ire welled up. "Who are you to judge them? They were our friends. Robert was my best friend and you snuffed his life out like it was no more than a candle!"

Hammond's eyes took on a glaze, like madness. "They're all the same! Drunken, lecherous college brats who have no respect for themselves or others. No sense of responsibility to those around them or those they purport to love. They're evil and they deserve to be stamped out!"

"My friends were not -- "

The doctor exploded. "I've heard enough from you. Now shut up and die!" and he raised the crossbow.

At that moment there came a hell-raising scream from the study as Angela charged full steam at Hammond. His finger tightened on the trigger and it snapped back just as she careered into him, stun gun crackling. The bolt flew from the weapon and sped towards Mark's chest. There was an audible 'thunk' as the projectile hit home and Mark's body was hurled backwards into the window. The multi-colored panes of glass spider-webbed and shattered, the lead borders twisting under the impact and his weight, and Mark Petri went tumbling from the second floor to the ground below.

"Mark!" screamed his lover. "You bastard, you killed Mark!"

She tried to drive the stun gun into his neck, but he began to wrest the weapon away from her. She had already hit him with it once in the side, so he was weakened, but still strong enough to fight her. Suddenly they both lost grip on the gun and it flew several feet away. Angela pulled away and tried crawling for it, but Hammond thrust his arm around her neck and pulled her back to him. As she struggled against him he fished around in his coat pocket for something, finally pulling a wadded cloth out of it and stuffing it over the young woman's face. Within seconds Angela ceased fighting him and passed out in his arms.

The doctor fell back against the wall and caught his breath. After resting for a while he knelt next to Angela and checked her pulse, then he lifted her up in his arms.

"Now, my dear, let's hope you haven't been injured during all this. I need you to be in good health so you can help me bring back the dead."

END OF PART THREE

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Patrick Donovan *

Amateur Romantic E-rotica * Share your passion.