Curse of the Boggin

by D. J. MacHale

  “Theo!” I called out, fearing he was trapped. Or worse.

  I took one step toward his room but stopped when his bedroom door flew open and somebody ran out.

  It was Theo. Alive. Unhurt but not yet safe.

  “What’s happening?” he screamed in panic.

  “We gotta get outta here!” I shouted back. “C’mon!”

  Theo ran toward me.

  “What about my family?” he called.

  “We’ll find them,” I said. “Let’s just get downstairs and out of—”

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  The doors on either side of the hallway blew off their hinges as if powerful explosions had erupted in each room. Theo was hit by one of the careening doors and knocked against the far wall.

  I was so stunned, I couldn’t move. What was happening? Before I could get my wits back, heavy vinelike tendrils reached out from each room, snaking into the hallway like monster pythons. They were thick, bark-and-leaf-covered vines that had a mind of their own as they slithered into the hall, seeking their prey.

  Theo.

  “Marcus!” Theo called in terror.

  Theo had been knocked onto his stomach. He tried to get to his feet, but a vine wrapped around his ankle and pulled him back toward his room, dragging him across the floor. It was as if the fallen tree was reaching into the house, groping for victims.

  “Help!” he screamed.

  That kicked me into gear. I ran down the hallway, jumping over the broken doors and stumbling past the ever-growing vines that continued to fill the hallway. Theo reached out for me, and I grabbed his hand.

  “Please don’t let it get me!” he cried.

  I pulled him toward me with one hand while reaching forward to yank the vines off his leg with the other. As vicious as they were, I was able to tear them free from Theo’s ankle and pull him to his feet. We held on to each other for support as we pushed our way back toward the stairs. It was like fighting our way through a dense jungle as the leafy vines continued to grow, filling the hallway. It felt as though every tendril was another hand grabbing at us, trying to pull us back toward whatever fate it had in store.

  With a powerful mix of fear and adrenaline, we fought our way to the stairs and hurried down, with the vines chasing us from behind, reaching out, wanting us back. We went straight for the door, blasted outside, and charged through the tall grass until we got to the sidewalk.

  Theo fell to the cement walkway, exhausted.

  “My family,” he called out, breathless.

  “I know,” I said while digging for my cell phone. “I’m calling 911.”

  Theo pulled me down so we were on the same level and looked me square in the eye with fear and desperation.

  “Give her the key,” he begged with tears in his eyes. “Or more will die.”

  “I will,” I said, trying to keep from crying myself. “I will. But first let me get help.”

  “Good, good, thank you,” he said, sounding relieved.

  I pulled out my cell phone and was about to enter 911…

  …when I stopped. I suddenly realized something. My mind raced back over events, trying to understand. Something was wrong, and not just because Theo’s house was being engulfed by deadly predator vines.

  “Or more will die,” I said, and looked down at Theo. “How did you know about that?”

  “She’s evil,” Theo said.

  “Yeah, but how did you know she told me that? And used those words? I didn’t tell you.”

  “Yes, you did,” Theo whined.

  “No, I didn’t. How did you know, Theo?”

  Theo looked up at me with pleading eyes, then suddenly changed. His face relaxed. The look of fear and panic disappeared. He stopped breathing hard, wiped away his tears, and laughed. He actually laughed. I thought for a second that his mind had snapped.

  “How did you know about that, Theo?” I asked, pressing.

  Theo sat up straight, gave me a shrug, and disappeared.

  He simply vanished.

  I heard a voice coming from the house.

  “The next time it might be real.”

  I shot a look to the destroyed house to see a figure standing in front of the open door, surrounded by a jungle of vines.

  The Boggin.

  “Surrender the key,” she said, and raised her hand out toward me.

  A dozen emotions took hold of me. Relief was the first, but it was quickly followed by anger. This demon was torturing me. She was evil. She had to be stopped.

  “Bite me!” I shouted at her.

  “Then you have made your choice,” she said, sounding irritated.

  The witch’s shadowy image transformed into white smoke that drifted skyward. She was trailed by dozens of thick, writhing vines that rose up and followed her like rats following the Pied Piper. The tendrils snaked out of the house and stretched higher, until they too disappeared into the starry night sky.

  I looked back to the house to see…absolutely no damage. No broken windows. No tall grass. Most important, the giant oak tree stood straight and tall where it always had. Undamaged. I didn’t have to look to my phone history to understand that Theo hadn’t actually called me.

  The whole thing was an illusion staged for my benefit…and horror.

  “Hey, Marcus!” came a little girl’s voice.

  The McLeans’ Volvo was pulling into the driveway. Mr. and Mrs. McLean were in front, Theo and his little sister, Claire, in back.

  Claire leaned out the window, waving at me. “We got pizza left over! Want some?”

  Theo got out of the car and walked to me while pulling on his ear. He knew something was wrong.

  “No thanks!” I called to Claire.

  “Are you okay?” Theo asked. “What are you doing here?”

  I couldn’t stand the idea of facing Theo just then. He didn’t believe that any of this was happening to begin with. How was I going to persuade him to be careful?

  “I’m fine,” I said. “But we gotta talk. Tomorrow.”

  “Uh, yeah. You sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m not even close to okay,” I said, and turned away, headed for home…with no idea of how I was going to deal with the evil power of the Boggin that seemed to be growing stronger by the minute.

  When I finally dragged myself home, I found Mom and Dad sitting in the living room, waiting for me. Dad immediately got up and went for the kitchen.

  “I’ll start dinner,” he said, which was weird, because Mom usually cooked.

  “Let’s talk, Marcus,” Mom said.

  Uh-oh. Those words never led to anything good. The last thing in the world I needed just then was to tangle with my mother, but it wasn’t like I had a choice. I sat down on the couch across from her without saying a word. What I wanted to do was spill my guts, but I knew she wouldn’t believe me and it would only make things worse.

  Mom seemed nervous, which wasn’t like her. Normally, she just jumped right in with whatever was bugging her. Now it seemed as though she was struggling to find the right words.

  “Things haven’t been good between us lately,” she said, as if I didn’t already know that. “What I want to say is…I’m sorry.”

  Whoa. Didn’t see that coming. I was suddenly very interested in what she had to say.

  “For what?” I asked with surprise.

  “Because of what I said yesterday. I hope you know I didn’t mean that. I was angry, and it was wrong.”

  All I could do was shrug, because, to be honest, I think she meant it.

  “We all have expectations of one another,” she said. “But it’s unfair to judge anyone based solely on that. I’m not saying I totally approve of all the things you’ve done, but I want to try to be a little more open-minded. You’re growing up, Marcus. Your father and I are doing our best to guide you until the time comes when you don’t need us anymore. Until then, I’m going to try to listen more than I have.”

  I sat there, stunned. Though it sounds impossible, all thoug
hts of the Boggin were suddenly gone. My mother had never been this open with me. Heck, she’d never admitted she was wrong before. About anything. Ever. No wonder she was having trouble finding the right words.

  “I, uh, I don’t know what to say,” I finally muttered. “I know you think I do things just to annoy you, but I don’t. Not all the time, anyway.”

  She actually chuckled at that.

  “I know. And I can be easily annoyed. It works both ways.”

  “What does Dad think?” I asked.

  She looked off toward the kitchen. I looked too and saw Dad quickly duck his head back around a corner. Busted. He’d been listening.

  “He’s the one who pointed out how difficult I’ve been. I guess I don’t always listen to him either, but I did this time. I promise you we’re going to try, and I hope you will too.”

  “What changed?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said with a shrug. “I just felt like we were losing you.”

  Those words hit home. As much as we had been at each other’s throats, I always saw us as a family. The idea that it might not last never entered my mind. Not seriously, anyway. I suddenly saw the possibility of flying on a trapeze without a safety net, and I didn’t like it.

  I think Mom was actually holding back tears.

  “I don’t want you to change, Marcus. I just want us to be honest with one another.”

  “Then I’ve got some bad news for you,” I said.

  She straightened up.

  “What?” she asked anxiously.

  “Mr. Winser deserved what he got. If I had the chance to do it over again, I’d do the exact same thing. That’s being totally honest.”

  She laughed. She actually laughed.

  “I guess you’re pretty good at battling bullies,” she said. “Maybe that’s a good thing.” She stood and added, “Bullies may be fair game, but take it easy on sweet little old ladies, okay? Let’s see what your father is cooking up.”

  As she walked off, reality came rushing back.

  That sweet little old lady wasn’t a sweet little old lady.

  My thoughts suddenly spun out of control. My mother had done something next to impossible by admitting she was wrong and asking us to be honest with each other. But telling her the truth about Miss Bogg and the Library was the last thing I wanted to do. I feared that drawing my parents into this would only put them in more danger. The memory of Theo’s house being destroyed by a predator tree was all too real, even though it really wasn’t.

  After dinner I went to bed early. I wasn’t tired, but I needed to think. What was I going to do? How was I going to defend everyone against that vicious old boogey-lady? I lay there desperately trying to come up with an idea, but all I did was fall asleep.

  I didn’t wake up until sunlight was streaming through my window. After sleeping all night, I wasn’t any closer to a plan of action than when I had left Lu’s house the night before.

  I jumped out of bed, threw on some clothes, and went right downstairs.

  “Mom? Dad?”

  No answer. It was Saturday. They usually went out early and did chores. That was good. As long as they were around other people, there was less chance of the Boggin paying them a visit. Or so I hoped. I was about to head into the kitchen to grab some breakfast when…

  …the doorbell rang.

  I jumped. Nobody just dropped in on a Saturday morning. At least nobody I knew. Both Theo and Lu slept until noon on Saturdays.

  I reached for the key around my neck. I could be out of there in a heartbeat by running up to any door and jumping into the Library.

  The bell rang again.

  My heart pounded.

  I had to know who it was.

  Slowly, I walked toward the front door. Next to it was a window. I took a peek out, but the angle was too sharp, and I couldn’t see who was standing there.

  Knock, knock.

  I jumped again.

  Whoever was there wasn’t going away.

  I had to face them.

  I stepped right up to the door and listened. For what, I didn’t know.

  “Who is it?” I called out.

  “Marcus?” It was a lady’s voice.

  It wasn’t an old lady’s voice either.

  “Who’s there?” I asked.

  “It’s Lillian Swenor.”

  I couldn’t open the door fast enough.

  Mrs. Swenor stood there, looking every bit as worked as she had in her apartment. Dangling from her hand was a very big shopping bag.

  “You got my message,” I said.

  “I did.”

  “Please tell me there’s a book in that bag.”

  Mrs. Swenor and I stood there, looking at one another, for an awkward couple of seconds.

  “Is it all right if I come in?” she asked sheepishly.

  “Yeah, yeah, of course,” I said, and stepped away from the door to let her into the house.

  I kept staring at the bag, hoping to catch a glimpse of an old-fashioned book.

  “Are your parents home?” she asked.

  “No,” I said while staring straight at the bag.

  “I don’t have the book, Marcus,” she said.

  My heart sank. Dead end.

  “But I’ve seen it,” she said.

  “Really?” I exclaimed with soaring hope. “Where is it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Crash. Another dead end.

  “When you came to the apartment, I didn’t tell you everything,” she said. “I thought I was protecting you. And Michael. But after you called about the book, I decided it would be wrong to hide anything from you.”

  My emotions kept bouncing from hope to disappointment, then back to hope again. I led her into the living room, where we sat across from one another. The whole time I kept stealing glances at the bag, wondering what she’d brought.

  She sighed and said, “I told you that after your parents died, Michael didn’t talk about ghosts or strange happenings again. Not for twelve years, anyway. I’d forgotten all about it until last week. Michael got a call from someone who knew your father from the old days. Whatever that person said, it truly upset him.”

  “Who was it?” I asked anxiously.

  “I don’t know. Michael wouldn’t tell me. But he went to see this person, and when he came home, he wasn’t just upset anymore. He was scared.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes as she related the painful memory.

  “He kept saying how he’d done something terrible, something he thought was right, but it turned out to be horribly wrong. Michael was a guy who ran into burning buildings, Marcus. Nothing scared him. But on that day he was terrified. He had an old book with him and kept flipping through the pages. Whatever he was looking for, he couldn’t find it and kept slamming the book shut in frustration. I think maybe it was the book you’re looking for.”

  “But you don’t know where it is?”

  She shook her head.

  “Did he tell you what he did that was so bad?”

  “Sort of. It made no sense to me, but it tore him apart.”

  “What was it?”

  “He said he broke the seal.”

  I jumped up as if I’d been hit by a jolt of electricity.

  “That’s what he said? He broke the seal?”

  “Yes. Does that mean something to you?”

  It meant everything. I looked to the shopping bag.

  “Mrs. Swenor,” I said cautiously, “what’s in there?”

  “Michael brought this home with him that day. I think this is what he broke the seal on.”

  My stomach turned upside down.

  “Can I see it?” I asked.

  She reached into the bag and lifted out a plain-looking olive-green metal box about as big as an oversized shoe box. I recognized it from old movies as an ammunition box from World War II. It was battered and scratched, with white, painted-on letters that were mostly chipped off.

  “Michael called it a vessel,”
she said. “He told me your father sealed it just before he died.”

  “My father?” I said, stunned. “He said my father sealed it? Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Do you know what that means?”

  I knew exactly what it meant and what the box was. There had been lots of them throughout time. The first was a copper box that was made a few thousand years ago. But the vessel didn’t need to be made of copper. All it needed was a copper seal.

  Everett was right. My father was dealing with the Boggin when he died. He sealed the demon inside this box twelve years ago. This was its last prison. And a week ago Michael Swenor broke the seal to release it back into the world.

  “It’s, um, it’s…” I couldn’t think of the right thing to say. I couldn’t just say, That was where my father had the boogeyman trapped, until your husband let it loose.

  “I’m not really sure,” I said, lying.

  “What was sealed in there?” she asked, with more than a little desperation. “Some kind of disease?”

  That was a pretty good guess, but I didn’t share that with Mrs. Swenor.

  “Finding that book might help solve the mystery,” I said.

  “I’m sorry, Marcus,” she said. “I didn’t tell you any of that because I didn’t want Michael being remembered for having lost his mind. But you knew about the book. You know it’s real. I can only hope that whatever Michael did, it was for a good reason and he didn’t realize how badly it would turn out.”

  “I think that’s exactly what happened,” I said. “Getting that book would help prove it.”

  Mrs. Swenor wiped her eyes and stood up.

  “If I learn anything more, I’ll let you know,” she said. “And I’ll keep looking for the book.”

  “Is it okay if I keep the box?”

  She glanced down at the old green metal box, and her focus sharpened.

  “I don’t ever want to see it again,” she said with disdain.

  With that, I walked her to the door. She left, and I was alone.

  As soon as the door closed, I spun around and ran for the box. I picked it up and gave it a thorough once-over to find…nothing. There was absolutely nothing unusual about it. It was just an old metal box…where my father had trapped the Boggin twelve years ago. Was that the story in the missing book? Was it the story of my father’s war with the Boggin?