The Horseman jumped off before it crashed to the ground.
“Did you think this would be easy?” Quinn asked. He moved around in the loft, still looking for a weapon of some kind. There was nothing but an old gas can.
The Horseman stood on the floor of the barn, his body following Quinn’s movement. But for now he stayed in one place.
“You got your smarts from me after all,” he said. “So you can’t be that stupid, right?”
Quinn was talking just to hear himself speak. He wondered how late it was. Was it 11:00 p.m.? He could try and stay up here for an hour, couldn’t he? Then the Horseman would be gone.
But he would be back next year. And then Quinn would have all year to dream about his return, waiting for next October. Quinn wasn’t doing this again. This had to end tonight.
Quinn faced him from the upper level.
“Do you know how long I was scared of you?” he asked. “I was five years old when I saw the Disney cartoon. And you scared the shit out of me. It took my Mom days to calm me down. Every time I walked through the woods, I half expected to see you there.”
The Horseman stood impassively.
“I’m not sure why I was so scared,” Quinn said. “I think I didn’t like the idea of poor Ichabod, hanging on to his horse, just trying to get home. And you wouldn’t let him.”
The Horseman moved suddenly, throwing the sword in the air in Quinn’s direction.
Quinn dropped to the ground and heard the sword slice barely above his head. The entire loft shook and Quinn could feel it about to give way.
Below, he heard the Horseman laugh. The sound bounced around the walls of the barn and seemed to come from inside Quinn’s head as well.
Scrambling to his feet, Quinn saw the sword along the back wall and picked it up. He held it in front of him, but felt ridiculous. He had no idea how to use the thing.
The Horseman strode over to the right barn wall and began pounding on it. At first, Quinn was not sure what the point was, and then it became obvious. Each blow sent a shiver through the whole building, and the wood groaned beneath Quinn’s feet. The loft was going to fall down, if the whole building didn’t first.
Quinn would have to get out of here. He held the sword in front of him, unsure of what to do next.
Boom, another blow came, and Quinn heard his floor giving way. Not thinking, Quinn dropped the sword, grabbed the gas can, still half full, and winged it in the Horseman’s direction.
Although Quinn had never been much of an athlete, his aim could not have been better. The can caught the Horseman fully in the chest, knocking him back and over. Quinn saw gasoline spill out on top of him.
He didn’t wait. He picked up the sword and threw it to the floor below, then dropped down himself.
The Horseman was still on the ground. Quinn picked up the sword and headed straight for him. This could be his only chance. He was not sure where to cut so decided he would hit him right in the chest.
He never got the chance. The Horseman picked himself up and as Quinn tried to bring a blow forward, the Horseman caught his wrist. And squeezed.
Quinn felt incredible pain and immediately dropped the sword. The Horseman released him, reached down to pick up the sword, and prepared a blow for Quinn’s head. Quinn punched the Horseman in the chest to knock him back. But the Horseman appeared unfazed.
Quinn stumbled back and looked around for any other kind of weapon. He ran over to where the gas can lay on the ground. So far it was the only thing that had done him much good.
The Horseman paused for a moment and seemed to watch Quinn’s movement.
Quinn picked up the can and stood looking at the Headless Horseman.
The Horseman came toward Quinn, and Quinn decided to run. He needed to find a better weapon than this. Maybe at least a stick or something outside could help stop any blows. As Quinn ran out into the night again, the Horseman was right on his heels.
He turned to look behind him as the Horseman brought his sword through the air. Quinn dropped to the ground and kicked at the Horseman’s knees, hoping to throw him off balance. The Horseman fell backwards.
Grabbing the gas can again, Quinn lurched away from the Horseman, scrambling to stand up. But he tripped over something and fell headlong into the pumpkin patch. The gas can came loose and fell to the ground, spilling gasoline as it went.
Quinn landed on two pumpkins. Flailing, Quinn tried to right himself. He could hear the Horseman getting up.
Quinn grabbed a pumpkin and ran forward, trying not to trip over any other pumpkins. At the far edge of the patch, he turned and cocked back his arm to throw the pumpkin, but nearly dropped it. It was too slick and smelled of…
The Horseman paused for a moment, as Quinn and he faced off across the overgrown garden.
Kate had assured him he would know what to do. And now-finally-he did.
Reaching into his pocket, Quinn pulled out Janus’ lighter.
“You know what?” he asked. “For years, I’ve identified with Ichabod. But I think that’s over.”
He flicked the lighter with his left hand and lit the pumpkin on fire.
The Horseman started to move toward him, but it was too late. Quinn cocked the flaming pumpkin back, oblivious to the intense pain in his hand, and let it fly.
The pumpkin hit the Horseman full on in the chest and he immediately caught fire. The Horseman stumbled back and now Quinn laughed.
“I’m not Ichabod Crane,” Quinn said. “Go back to Sleepy Hollow, you headless son of a bitch.”
The Horseman was consumed in flames. The sword disappeared in a flash and the Headless Horseman appeared to burn from the outside in, collapsing in on himself. There was a mist of fire and smoke and then he was gone.
Quinn sank to his knees. His hand was in pain, but he was happy for the first time in a very long time. He had won. He felt a stirring in his blood, as if the fire were starting to spread through him. But it felt good.
Quinn had won. He had not believed he could but he had done it.
He was so relieved that he barely noticed the other figure striding toward him, who moments later stood in front of him.
“You know, Quinn, a lot of screaming and burning stuff is not the best way to hide,” Kyle said, and pulled a knife from behind him. “Let’s finish this.”
Kyle brought the knife down toward Quinn’s neck.
Chapter 25
Halloween
Kate stood by the bridge, shining her flashlight into it, and holding her gun. Her connection with Quinn had been lost. She had sensed the Horseman getting closer and then she had been cut off. She came immediately, but was forced to park behind Quinn’s car and walk to avoid the nails on the road.
There was nothing here and she fought down a sense of panic. Had Kyle gotten him? Or had the Horseman? And were either of those two, or both, now coming for her? Waiting for her?
But she heard nothing. She shone a light into the bridge and saw no trace that anyone had been there. She should have come along. She should never have agreed to stay back. They were in this together and they needed to face it that way.
She thought she heard far off laughter from up the hill. She started to walk up it carefully. As much as she wanted to help Quinn, it would not be a good idea to alert everyone to her presence. She was meant to be a surprise.
She moved up the hill steadily and then felt something strange. She stopped.
All at once a flood of images came to her, and she fell to the ground. The Horseman riding toward Quinn, dismounting and chasing him. A barn and…
A flaming pumpkin. She saw that clearly now, and all at once it was like someone had flipped a switch-she felt a burning sensation all through her.