R. Stine: Red Rain

A second explosion sent flames shooting off the low, flat roof. Mark glanced back. The twins were ambling toward him, not even bothering to hurry. So relaxed and confident. And why not? Mark was helpless against the boy’s unnatural weapon. Helpless against the evil magic Lea had warned him about. Sure, he could run. But where? He couldn’t escape. And he couldn’t turn and face them down.

Over the crackle of the flames, he heard shouts. People came running out of the waffle cone shop and from the restaurant at the end of the pier. He didn’t have long to watch them. Another scorching stab of pain caught him in the back of the leg, hobbling him. Forcing him to his knees.

This is it. It’s over.

A sharp stab in his right shoulder and the skin split open. He felt the burn run down his arm. With a scream of horror and pain, his leg throbbing and aching, he lurched to the edge of the pier. Swung his body around-and glanced to the water.

Will I be safe in the water?

He gripped the low, white metal railing at the edge of the pier. His right arm throbbed. He could barely hold on, but he started to lower his body toward the rolling water. Glancing back, he saw Daniel’s intense stare and the pulsing red eyes of his twin as they made their steady way toward him.

A powerful heat blast bounced off the metal railing, shook the rail, and made a craack like a lightning bolt. Another shot sent an explosion of heat over the top of Mark’s head.

He glimpsed the dark water below. He took a deep breath and prepared to loosen his hold on the rail.

And then stopped.

He gripped the rail tight and stared across the pier as Lea caught up to the boys. They had all their attention on Mark. Daniel was pushing his brother forward, moving them in for the final burn. They didn’t see Lea come up behind them.

Ignoring his pain, Mark hung on the rail and watched Lea move up behind the boys. She stretched out her arms as if to tackle them both. Instead, she wrapped her arms around them, pulled them into a tight hug from behind.

They struggled to free themselves. The three of them moved in an awkward dance, held together in Lea’s tight embrace.

As she wrestled with them, she called to him. “Good-bye, Mark. Good-bye, darling. It’s the only way. I have to take them back.”

“Lea, no!”

Gripping the rail, he watched helplessly as Lea spread her hand over Samuel’s blond hair-and turned his face to her. Turned his burning eyes on her.

Took the beam of fire. Turned it on herself.

Mark couldn’t stop the howl of horror that burst from his throat. Working his legs against the pier wall, he struggled to pull himself up. To get to her. To reach her in time.

But no.

Lea burst into flames that consumed her instantly, rising like candlefire, straight, without a flicker. She didn’t move or struggle or make a sound. The boys squirmed and thrashed. But even as she burned, Lea held them close, pressed them to her. And the fire swallowed them, too.

Unable to breathe or cry out, Mark watched all three of them in the fire, statues in a dark embrace, then ash, crumbling ash, a sinking pile of ash inside the single tall flame.

Then gone.

Gone, and the fire vanished with them, leaving the asphalt unmarked.

Mark felt hands grip his arms. Saw faces above him. People tugging him up from the pier side. He heard screams and cries. Sirens approaching. Smoke swept over him from the still-flaming Dock House. People came running onto the pier, faces tight with alarm. Seagulls screamed in the sky.

He let it all fade to the back of his mind. He pictured Lea. Her smile. Her bright, dark eyes.

Gone. Lea was gone.

As he stared, the fire that had consumed her went out with an almost-silent husssssh.

Mark found Roz in the flower bed at the side of the guesthouse. She was on the grass, digging with a trowel in a square of black dirt. Axl, in red shorts and a sleeveless red T-shirt, sat nearby in a clump of freshly planted petunias, stabbing at the ground with a plastic shovel in imitation of his mother.

Roz looked up and brushed a bee away from her shoulder. “Who was that on the phone?”

Mark hunkered down beside her. He liked the smell of the fresh dirt. Like rich coffee. “Sergeant Pavano. You remember. The cop.”

Roz nodded. “Of course I remember him. What did he want? To arrest you for some other murder you didn’t do?”

Mark snickered. “Don’t be bitter. He had no choice really.”

“Of course he did. And I’ll be as bitter as I want. He was a total idiot.”

“Not total,” Mark said. “Don’t forget. He was brave. He tried to rescue Ira and Elena and the other kids. He went in before anyone.”

She shoved the trowel into the dirt. “So what did the big hero want?”

“Actually, I think he called to apologize for the way the police treated me. But he never got around to it. He just asked how everyone is doing. You know. With Lea gone.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I said Ira and Elena hadn’t really accepted it yet. But they were doing the best they could. What else could I say?”

Roz sighed in reply.

Mark twisted his face in a frown. “Pavano says he’s going back to New York City. He said the city is a lot safer than out here.”

Roz concentrated on the trowel. “Maybe he’s right.”

“Look this. Look this.” Axl called to them, holding up his yellow shovel.

They turned to see what the little guy was staring down at. Mark saw two fat brown insects in the scoop of the shovel. “Those are called beetles,” he said.

Axl held the shovel close to his face. His dark eyes studied the two bugs. “Look what Sammy teached me. Sammy teached me this.”

Roz’s mouth dropped open. “What? What about Sammy?”

“Sammy teached Monkey Boy.”

Mark felt his heart skip a beat as Axl’s eyes flared. In a few seconds, they were fiery red. Axl lowered his glowing gaze to the shovel, and all three of them watched as the beetles sizzled and burned.