by Katz, Gayle
Marta smiled. “It seems OK in your hands. It’s not trying to escape or anything.”
“No. Oh, and did you know that it’s not actually a mask?”
Marta looked at his face, then down at the mask. “Uh, what is it then?”
“Believe it or not, it’s actually part of a shrunken head.” He carefully looked the head mask over, turning it in his hands.
“You mean like what those South American tribes did to its enemies? Shrinking an actual human head?”
“Yep,” he said, nodding his head.
“Oh, I think I’m going to be sick,” she said. “I’ve touched that thing.”
“Sorry, you can get back to work,” he said. “I’ll just look it over and take photos, then lock up the case and bring the keys back to your office.”
“OK, thanks,” she said, backing away.
He looked on in disappointment as she walked away, but perhaps he’d have another opportunity to talk to her later.
He placed the mask back in the display case, then took out his smartphone and started snapping photos. These would be sent to Stewart for investigation.
Owen was eager to get the job done fast. He was glad the mask was staying in one spot, as he certainly didn’t want this thing around his house.
He selected all the photos on his phone, and then sent them to Stewart’s phone number. Then he put his phone back in his pocket.
He carefully sat the mask back up on its display stand. Then he slid the glass door closed. He was about to lock up, when he saw something unusual on the mask.
Owen stared more closely at the mask. “What the?” It appeared as though tears were dropping from its squished eye sockets. Owen blinked, and then the tears were gone.
He shook his head. Even if the mask had really shed tears, they wouldn’t have evaporated so quickly. He locked up the case and dropped the keys off with Marta, forgetting that he wanted to ask her out on a date. He said goodbye, then left the building. He noticed that his feelings were different than when he had first entered the building. Now he simply felt sadness.
zzz
Tricia watched as Zan was bitten by two zombies, while her friend Charlie was trying to get away from the hold of the other zombie. She gazed longingly at the exit door at the top of the staircase, then back down at the mess below her.
“Damn it all to hell!” she screamed. “My lawyer will get me out!” She ran back down the stairs, grabbed a baton from one of the half-eaten guards lying on the floor, and ran up to the zombies that were trying to munch on Zan. She raised the baton and swung it hard through the air.
It connected hard with the first zombie’s head. It dropped down onto Zan.
“Gross! Get off me!” she cried.
Fortunately, it blocked the eating path of the second zombie.
Tricia ran over to Charlie and whacked her zombie over the head. It dropped down.
Together, they managed to get both zombies off Zan.
“Dammit,” said Tricia. “You’ll need some medical care. I’ll go grab a first-aid kit from the room.” She dropped the baton and ran back to gather medical supplies.
“Are you OK, Zan? Oh my god, you have some really bad bites.”
Zan shrugged. “I’ll be fine. My mother goes to this good plastic surgeon.”
Charlie smacked her on the arm.
“Ouch!”
“Sorry!” said Charlie. “Good thing Tricia came when she did, otherwise, you’d be all eaten up by now.”
“Yeah, great. Did you know she was running away?”
“Say what?” said Charlie.
“Here’s the first-aid kit,” said Tricia, dropping it on the ground and opening it up.
“Thanks,” said Zan.
“And yes, I was going to escape, but changed my mind,” Tricia explained.
“Ouch,” said Zan, as Tricia sprayed an antiseptic on her shoulder wound.
“Well, we won’t say anything,” said Charlie. “We can put in a good word for you. Get your parole faster or something.”
“Thanks,” she replied.
“What a mess,” said Charlie, helping with Zan’s first aid. “How did this even start?”
Tricia rolled up some bloodied cotton and tossed it across the hall. “Oh, you don’t know? It was Rina Orzola who planned it all.”
“Rina Orzola?” said Charlie. “Ray’s sister?”
She nodded.
“Wait. She was being held here?” asked Zan.
“Yes, for her trial coming up. But someone came to visit her. They brought her some clothes or something. Inside were injectables.”
“Oh my god,” said Charlie. “I’ll bet that was Dr. Arora.”
“Injectables? You mean to turn people into zombies?”
Tricia nodded. “She was selling them as heroin or something. I don’t do drugs, so I didn’t buy one.”
“Hey, don’t guests get searched along with any packages they bring in?”
Tricia shrugged. “They were pretty tiny. She sewed them up into her clothing. We can wear regular clothing here on Fridays.”
“Grrr,” said Zan. “So she did have more of the virus hidden then.”
“Either that or she’s found a way to make more.” Charlie looked at Zan.
“This is very, very bad.”
Charlie frowned.
Chapter 5
________________________________________
“It’s so odd. It was like the mask was changing before my eyes,” said Owen, explaining what had happened on his trip to City Hall.
“Thanks for sending the photos,” said Stewart. “I’ll take a closer look at them, then inspect the history book to see if there are any more reveals.”
“Oh, and I should mention one more thing,” said Owen. He often forgot the little details.
“Yes?” asked Stewart over the telephone.
“It’s like my feelings for the mask have changed too.”
“Your feelings?”
“Yeah, like, I feel a bit sad now. Or pity, perhaps. I wonder who it belonged to?”
“Not certain,” said Stewart. “I just can’t work out how this voodoo history and the Founding Fathers of America are connected.”
“Well, I can’t help but feel that this is all tied together somehow,” said Owen.
“Me too,” said Stewart, “but we’ll unscramble this mystery.”
“So, should I go back and try to destroy it?” asked Owen.
“No, I think we’re way beyond that. It’s trying to tell us something, and we need to figure it out.”
zzz
The paramedic finished cleaning Zan’s wounds and bandaged them up. “It appears they are already healing. Most curious.”
“Um, yeah, that’s my superpower,” she said.
Charlie smiled. She was glad that her friend would be OK.
“I need to say goodbye to Tricia,” said Zan.
“OK.”
Zan walked over to where the prisoners were lined up.
“Take it easy,” Zan said to Tricia. They were outside the building, in the parking lot of the prison. There were guards milling around, making sure the prisoners stayed in the lineup. Paramedics were checking each one of them. Off to the side were several bodies lying covered on stretchers.
“I will,” she said. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Well, I’m going to ask my friend if his parents can help you out. It doesn’t seem right that being attacked has landed you in here.”
Tricia shrugged. “It’s not like I have a lot of time left anyway. A few more years.”
“Well, the sooner you get back into a normal life, the better,” added Charlie.
“Oh, and I’ll ask my dad to get you a referral so you can get that scar fixed,” Zan said.
“Oh, now that I’d appreciate.” Tricia smiled.
“Hi, Zan and Charlie,” said Sergeant Bourne.
“Hi, Jay, how nice of you to come and join us after all the fun is done,” said Charlie.
“Yeah, I should have helped. Looks like a lot of people died.”
“Hi, Jay. We should have been called in sooner,” said Zan.
He looked around him. “OK, get out of here before someone starts asking a lot of questions.”
“Right,” said Charlie, heading back to her car, with Zan following.
“Hey, watch out at nighttime. There’s something weird going down,” called out Bourne.
“Like what?” asked Zan out of curiosity.
“Some weird type of zombie. Instead of chomping big bits out of a person, it takes tiny bites, kind of like shredding.”
“Ew,” said Zan, walking away.
zzz
Julian stood in front of the bathroom mirror. So it had come down to this: him turning into a zombie. Eating the raw meat had done nothing. He figured eating a human might help, but he was a good zombie and wouldn’t be doing that.
He looked mournfully down at the gun sitting on the toilet tank. Below that, an old bottle of whiskey sat on the seat.
He picked up the bottle and twisted off the cap. Might as well go out drunk. He put the bottle to his lips and chugged it.
He almost choked as he struggled to swallow the influx. He put the bottle down on the seat. He made one final swallow while the alcohol burned his insides, though he was surprised that he really had any feeling left inside.
Julian started feeling better. He picked up the bottle and drank the rest. He tossed the bottle into the trash. He figured his dad would be upset that he drank his old whiskey, but not as upset as he was going to be for having a dead child.
zzz
“Hey! Let’s meet with Owen and celebrate somewhere,” said Zan, tapping the screen of her smartphone.
“Sure,” said Charlie. “Where are we going?”
“He’s suggesting this coffee shop near Ray’s factory.”
Charlie turned to look at her at the stoplight. “Really?”
“I don’t think he wants to go there, if you’re asking that,” said Zan, laughing. “He just wants to meet at the place where we met Julian.”
“Oh right, I know where that is,” said Charlie. “I wonder how Julian is doing?”
Zan shrugged. “Same as always, I guess. We can ask Owen when we meet up with him.”
“OK, but just for half an hour,” said Charlie. “Then we should probably get some sleep. We still have school tomorrow.”
“Sounds great. Wow, this fog is sure settling over the city.”
Charlie frowned, glad that she could still at least see the streetlights and the lines on the road.
zzz
Julian was seated on top of the toilet seat. He felt the alcohol course through his veins. He smiled. He hadn’t felt this good in months. His dad would be mad he drank his good whiskey though. Old, antique whiskey, purchased for several hundred dollars. He’d bought an entire case lot.
He laughed. His mom had been mad, but his dad had argued that it was very, very good whiskey. Julian reached down to pull the bottle out of the garbage. He whistled.
“1776. There is no way,” he mumbled. “I know hard liquor has some serious shelf life, but this is ridiculous. It would have lost its potency by now.” He looked more closely at the label to read it. “Originally brewed in 1776 in celebration of our independence from Great Britain. Today’s current recipe is as authentic as the original, with a dash of flavoring taken from the original barrel. This recipe is available in limited quantities.”
“Cool,” he said, nodding.
As Julian held the bottle in his hands, his hands started changing. He dropped the bottle, hearing it crash on the floor.
He gasped. “No!” He held his hands up in the air. “This can’t be possible!”
zzz
“Hi, Owen,” said the girls.
“Hi, Zan! Hi, Charlie! I heard it went well at the prison.” He sat down at the table.
“Well, as well as to be expected,” said Zan.
“Yeah, lots of people got hurt or killed.”
“Wow, that’s crazy. So, it was Dr. Arora again?”
They nodded.
Charlie spoke up. “Apparently, Dr. Arora inhabited Rina Orzola’s body, and broke out of prison.”
“Rina? If memory serves, that’s Ray’s sister, right?”
“Yep,” said Zan.
“And that means Rina is related to Dr. Arora then,” Owen concluded.
“Yes, that’s the rumor,” said Charlie.
“Wow, so much craziness. But how did the injectables get inside the prison?” he asked.
“Oh, apparently, Rina had a visitor from outside in the past week. They must have brought them in through their clothing,” explained Zan.
“I hope they are more stringent from now on,” said Owen. “I wonder if this will cause some lawsuits?”
“I imagine the Orzola family is pretty much bankrupt by now,” said Zan. “Say, what do your parents work on?” she asked.
“They can’t tell me. It’s confidential,” Owen replied. “But most of it is litigation and estate stuff. Not criminal.”
“That’s where the money’s at,” said Zan, impressed.
Charlie yawned. “This hot chocolate is putting me to sleep.”
“Right, before we go,” he said, “I wanted to fill you in on the shrunken head mask.”
“Oh, right,” said Zan. “I remember you mentioned that before.”
“Yes, and now it’s been found.”
“You found it? Where?” asked Charlie.
Owen smiled smugly. “At our very own City Hall.”
Zan laughed. “Typical. Doesn’t that figure?”
“Where is it?” Charlie asked.
“Inside the display case. It turns out it was there the night of that big Halloween fiasco.”
“Ew,” said Zan. “I’ll bet that fit in nicely with the theme.”
“Yep. Anyway, I heard that the mayor tried to have it destroyed, but that it keeps on popping back into the display case.”
“That’s creepy,” said Charlie. “Did Dr. Arora have a hand in that too?”
“No, it’s just a shrunken head,” responded Owen, trying to keep a straight face.
“That’s odd,” said Zan.
“Anyway, remember when I told you I felt evil coming from it, when I first saw it on the plane?” He watched them nod. “Well, not the last time. The last time, I felt sadness and pain.”
Zan shrugged. “What’s next? Are they just going to leave it there?”
“No. I think the mask is trying to tell us something.”
“Creepy,” said Charlie. “Are you going to return it to Portland University?”
“Not just yet. Stewart is examining the photos and is going to try and get a dating on it.”
“Bizarre,” said Charlie. “I wonder if the mask in the display case has any relation to the zombie outbreak at the prison.” She yawned again.
“Sorry, gals. Let’s head for home.” Owen stood up, gathering their empties.
zzz
Julian stared at his hands and his arms. Then he stood up and looked in the mirror. “Oh my god!”
His human appearance was fully restored. His skin was olive colored and healthy. All of his hair and eyelashes were intact. He opened his mouth. All of his teeth were there. In fact, they looked healthier than ever before. When he moved his shoulders, he felt no pain or numbness. He looked normal and felt healthy.
He heard sounds coming from the front of the house. “Damn! My parents!”
He quickly scooped up the broken glass from the bottle and tossed it into the bag that had been in the trash. He grabbed the gun and tossed it in there too. Then, he quickly opened the door and raced for his bedroom.
He had just enough time to toss the bag under his bed before he heard his parents’ footsteps coming down the hall.
“Julian, you look so well today,” his dad said.
“Wow, you’re right. I do think you’re going to be OK,” said Mom.
&n
bsp; Julian smiled back at them. They were right. He was going to be OK.
Chapter 6
________________________________________
THE PAST - 10TH GRADE
Stewart was rummaging around in the basement of Dallas Junior High School. To his anger, the principal had allocated six more students to his already astounding class size of thirty students. But he knew everything was big in Texas, so instead of complaining, he decided to find some more biology textbooks for his extra students, even if it meant having to use worn out books. If this school was like any of the others, they never tossed anything out.
He pulled another dirty cardboard box from the metal shelving unit and placed it on the table. This one wasn’t even properly sealed. It had water stains all over it, and what appeared to be chew marks on two of the corners. It probably didn’t contain anything good, but he popped open the flaps anyway.
Inside was a wooden box. Not what he was looking for, but he was curious. He carefully took the box out and placed it on the table. He cautiously lifted the lid up.
“Wow,” he said, greatly impressed. Inside were three old daggers. They each had a short handle and a long blade of about ten inches. They were tarnished, with chips on the ends. Their handles had some sort of carved engraving on them.
He was hesitant to touch the daggers, as they weren’t clean, though he knew he’d had a tetanus shot recently as part of the hiring process for this new school.
He decided to close the lid and investigate later.
He was nearly ready to give up on hunting for biology textbooks when he saw a stack of books on the bottom shelf.
“Score!” he said to himself, pulling out several dusty volumes of exactly what he’d been looking for.
Behind him, the wooden box fell off the table and down into the large plastic bag below.
