by Todd Miller
Chapter 6
We walked to Kristin’s house, wrapped up in our own thoughts. That pretty good feeling I had went away in a hurry. I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened, and soon I was shaking all over.
I was in big trouble.
Curtis was trapped inside a zombie, fighting for his soul.
Kristin was having really weird dreams.
Eddie just drove off with all the magic books that could help us.
And we killed a policeman. Sort of.
Kristin wasn’t talking much either. Every once in awhile I caught her sniffling and wiping away another tear. She pulled her sleeves over her hands and walked with her head down. Soon we were standing outside her house, and she smiled weakly.
“What are you going to do with him?” I asked, gesturing toward Curtis.
“I’m going to hide him in my closet,” she said.
“What about the smell?”
She thought for a moment.
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll put an air-freshener around his neck.”
“We need to get those books back from Eddie,” I said.
“Let him go be a big baby,” she said. “He’ll come around tomorrow.”
“You sure?”
She nodded.
We hugged, awkwardly, and then I shuffled home, exhausted and miserable. Aunt Rose wasn’t waiting up for me this time, which was good, but I’d probably catch hell in the morning.
I lay in bed, feeling nervous and afraid. My brain struggled with ways to get the books back from Eddie, some way to make him see reason. He was just mad, that’s all. Tomorrow I would go talk to him. And, hopefully, he wouldn’t punch me in the face.
Maybe, I thought, I’d better bring the gun.
Just in case.
So I went on the internet and looked up how to clear a jammed gun. It turned out to be not that hard. And I still had a few bullets left. Not that I was going to need them.
Right?
And then I saw myself shooting Curtis again, Curtis begging for me to help him, the gun jerking in my hand, the little popping sound, all the blood. Oh, God, the blood. I never thought so much blood could come out of a human body.
My eyes were starting to tear up and I could feel my heart sinking. Quickly, I reached for my sketchbook and started to draw. Curtis riding a dinosaur. Curtis holding a battle-axe. Curtis with all those eyes bursting out of his skin, little blobs of flesh going everywhere.
I crossed that drawing out.
Then my pencil went back to the page and a familiar shape appeared. I didn’t even really think about sketching her, I just did.
The woman with long, black hair and dark, sad eyes. My mother. I stared down at the drawing, the lines and shadows, the smudges and the scribbles; my hands were folded together, my thumbs pressed up against my lips.
It wasn’t enough.
And so in a kind of trance I made my way up to the attic, strange shapes dancing in the swirling shadows cast by a single bare bulb, hanging from the ceiling. There was a silence up here, a solid and eerie sense of quiet that reminded me of the cemetery.
I knew right where to go. A box in the corner, hidden behind the old rug and the ancient suitcases. My hands trembled as I opened the dusty cardboard flaps, then reached inside for my secret, forbidden treasure.
It was our family photo album. From before what happened. When we were all still together. There were pictures of everybody. Me, when I was a baby. My mom and dad before I was born.
She always looked happy in the old pictures.
So why did she do it?
Did my dad’s drinking problem grind her down? Was she really crazy, like everybody said?
Or was it me?
Was it something I did?
Oh, Mom…why did you have to leave?
I’m in big trouble here.
I could really use your help…
Some of her old clothes were in the box, dresses and things, all neatly folded, so I took them out one by one and I smelled them, hoping for something familiar, some scent I could recognize from better days. Her perfume, shampoo, whatever.
But all they didn’t smell like anything at all.
They smelled like air.
As I folded up her clothes and carefully packed them back into the box, something fell out of one of her shirt pockets and made a strange noise when it hit the floor.
It was a little black bag.
About the size of my iPod.
I looked at it on the floor and for a moment I was afraid to pick it up.
It looked like a bug. A soft, velvet bug.
Slowly I reached down and picked up the bag by its drawstring. There was something inside, something that rattled and clicked.
My heart began to beat even faster as I opened the bag and poured its contents into the palm of my hand.
Nine little red beans.
A single white scallop shell.
A dirty, grey rabbit’s foot.
A snake rattle.
And a tiny little skull, the size of a golf ball.
It had tiny little teeth. And tiny little eye sockets. It didn’t look like an animal skull…
Quickly I shoved it all back into the black bag. I had a terrible urge to throw it away into some dark corner, but instead I shoved the bag in my pocket and finished cleaning up.
When I was done I crept back to my room and crawled under my covers, pulling them up over my head. I lay there in the dark, my body shaking.
Eventually I dozed off and dreamed I was back in Kristin’s house, standing outside her bedroom once again. The house was dark, and the strange green light shone from underneath her bedroom door.
I tried the knob, and again the door was locked. I could hear Kristin speaking on the other side of the door in some strange language I had never heard before. It kind of sounded like Latin, or maybe Greek, but really I had no idea. But I could tell she was repeating certain words and phrases over and over, her voice becoming more urgent and anxious.
I became aware of a presence behind me, and I knew it was Curtis. He was close, nearly right on top of me, and I could smell his rotting flesh. Somehow I realized that if I turned around, if I so much as turned my head even just a little bit, he would kill me.
I jiggled the door knob in desperation.
“Kristin!” I said. “Open the door!”
She continued her strange chanting, sometimes shouting and grunting, her voice becoming strained. I looked down at my feet and saw there was blood flowing from under the door and then I felt something cold and soft gently touch the back of my neck—
And then I woke up.
I thought maybe Aunt Rose would leave for work early, but instead she was working on her laptop in the dining room and eating a bowl of cereal. I tried to slip past her into the kitchen, when she called out.
“Charlie. Come here a minute, please.”
I shuffled over, trying to look innocent.
“Another late night,” she said.
“Uh-huh.”
“Is that all you have to say?”
“Sorry,” I said.
Aunt Rose gave me the look again.
“This came for you yesterday,” she said, holding out a thin, white envelope.
Fancy handwriting. Black ink. It was a letter was from Victoria Elmwood-Ravensburg. I was kind of surprised that she actually wrote me back.
“Do you know who this woman is?” said Aunt Rose.
“I guess so. I mean, her family used to own the whole town, right? Her dad built that stone tower out in the woods.”
“Mrs. Elmwood-Ravensburg is a liar and a con artist. In fact, she’s dangerous. A very sick woman. And she’s mentally disturbed.”
“Like my mother?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Can I have my letter now?”
“I’m sorry, no.”
“What?”
“I do not want you talking to this woman, Charlie. I’m putting my foot dow
n. No further contact. Do you understand?”
“Not really,” I said.
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
“From the mistake your mother made.”
“What kind of mistake?” I said.
Aunt Rose looked at me and was silent.
“Does it have something to do with this?” I said, taking the little black bag out of my pocket.
Aunt Rose jumped out of her chair so fast she knocked over her bowl of Corn Flakes.
“Get that out of my house,” she said, stumbling away from me and waving her hands frantically. “Throw it away!”
‘What is it?”
“I said throw it away!”
“Is it magic? What is it?”
“Please, Charlie!”
“Can’t you just tell me what’s going on?” I said.
“Trust me, Charlie,” said Aunt Rose. “You really don’t want to know. It’s so much better this way. You can be a normal boy. You won’t have to live the rest of your life in fear!”
I looked at my Aunt Rose, shrinking back from the little bag in my hand. But instead of throwing it away, I stuffed the bag back into my pocket and quickly snatched the letter off the dining-room table. Then I stomped upstairs, pulled the gun out from under my bed and shoved it into my waistband.
Eddie better not mess with me now. I was good and mad.
I made sure the gun was covered up by my shirt. Then I was downstairs in a flash and headed out the door.
“Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“Charlie—”
“Leave me alone.”
“Charlie, I know this is difficult—”
“I said leave me the hell alone!”
And then I was gone, slamming the door behind me.
Halfway down the block my cell phone started ringing. It was Aunt Rose. I hit the ignore button and walked on. She kept calling, again and again, leaving one voicemail after another. I ignored them all.
I could feel the blood throbbing in my head. My fists were clenched. I started walking toward Eddie’s house, the gun pressed into my ribs. It felt hot and bulky and suddenly I started to regret bringing it along.
Eddie was in his garage, the door open, playing around on his guitar. Neither of his parents’ cars were in the driveway, just his battered ride. I saw the old trunk, its lid closed, shoved off to the side. It looked okay.
Eddie saw me walking up, but kept playing anyway. Fast, angry music. When I reached the garage, he put the guitar down and stood up.
“What?” he said.
“Hey, man. Bad night, huh?”
“What do you want, Berger?”
“You, uh, you talk to Kristin?” I asked.
“No.”
“Oh, okay.”
“You talk to her?”
“Uh-uh, no,” I said.
Neither of us said a word then.
“So, look, Eddie, we really need those books.”
“No way,” he said. “I looked through them the other night, and they’re not right. There’s something evil about those books and I don’t want Kristin getting mixed up with this stuff anymore.”
“Evil?”
“Yeah, like, most of them aren’t even in English, but the pictures, the pictures are really strange. A bunch of witch stuff. So I’m gonna burn them all.”
“Listen,” I said, “Kristin is having some really weird dreams and I think she’s under some kind of spell, too. We need those books, man. They may be her only chance.”
“What kind of dreams?” he asked.
“I don’t know exactly, but we have to help her.”
“We?”
“Yeah,” I said.
Eddie shoved me in the chest.
“Listen up, doofus. You’re going to leave Kristin alone, you got that?”
And then he shoved me again, hard, and I stumbled out of the garage.
“You’re going to stay away from her from now on. I thought we were friends, but I guess not.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“You think I’m stupid?” he said. “You think I can’t tell you’re trying to steal my girl?”
“I—I’m not trying to steal her.”
“All this messed-up stuff that’s been happening, it’s because of you,” he said. “All this business with the Spider Lady, and Curtis, and all this black magic, you started it, man, you!”
“I know,” I said. “But—I’m really sorry!”
He punched me in the mouth. I fell to the pavement, seeing stars. My face felt like it was on fire. I put my hand up to my chin and saw blood.
“Kristin doesn’t like you, Charlie,” he said. “She thinks you’re a loser. We make fun of you all the time.”
I stood up, and my legs wobbled. I held out my hand, trying to wave Eddie away.
“Don’t,” I said.
“What was it the kids used to call you?” asked Eddie. “Blubber Berger? Berger Butt?”
“Just give me the books,” I said, my voice trembling. “Please.”
He grabbed me by the collar and punched me again. There was an explosion in my brain and everything went white, then black, and I found myself on the ground again.
“Get up, spaz. Come on, get up if you want some more.”
Every part of my face hurt and I could barely move.
“Stop…” I said.
“That’s right,” said Eddie. “You stay the hell down, got that?”
I think I nodded, yes, I would stay down. Eddie smiled.
“Good. Now, let’s have a barbeque, huh?”
He marched back into the garage and grabbed a bottle of Kingsford charcoal starter fluid.
“You want a dog? Hamburger?”
Eddie began to spray the books in the trunk with the charcoal-starter fluid.
There was blood dripping from a cut on my forehead into my left eye. Slowly I started to stand up.
“How about toasted marshmallows?” he asked. “All fat kids like marshmallows, right?”
“Kirstin is in trouble. Don’t you want to help her?”
“I am helping her.”
When the bottle was nearly empty Eddie crushed it in his fist and tossed it away.
“Uh-oh,” he said. “Forgot my matches.”
He headed back into the garage. I could smell the chemical stink of the charcoal-starter fluid as I wiped the blood off my face.
“This is serious, Eddie,” I said. “She’s your girlfriend.”
Eddie found his match box and came out shaking them like a maraca.
“Ah, she’s just a tease,” he said.
He struck a match and it popped into a bright, orange flame.
“Wait,” I said, pulling out my gun.
My hand trembled as I pointed it at him.
“Just stop.”
He looked at me for a moment, then frowned.
“You think I’m stupid, Berger?” he said. “That gun is jammed.”
He was about to drop the match, or at least…I thought he was about to. I really did.
So I shot him.
The gun made a little pop, like a firecracker.
Eddie fell over backwards, clutching his chest. I was beside him in a second. His eyes were unfocused, staring up at the sky and blood was pouring out of his mouth.
I quickly looked around. Didn’t see anybody.
In a frenzied panic I grabbed Eddie by the shoulders and dragged him into the garage, leaving behind a large, bloody smear. I hit the automatic garage door and it seemed like an eternity for the stupid thing to close.
Then I turned and looked at Eddie. His T-shirt was soaked with blood. His face was going white, his eyes wet and glassy.
“Eddie?” I said.
I don’t know if he was trying to talk, but when he opened his mouth all that I heard was a terrible, gasping, gagging sound.
I stood in his garage for a minute, completely p
aralyzed. My brain refused to work. I remember thinking I should do something to help him. Try to stop the bleeding, call an ambulance, something, anything except watch him bleed to death on the floor of his garage.
Bu he was going to burn the books.
He was really going to do it.
And then Kristin would be doomed.
His gasping breaths were getting weaker now.
It was him or her.
I had no choice.
Like with Curtis.
I had to do it.
Now his gasps were soft, almost inaudible.
It was the right thing to do.
I did the right thing.
“Right, Eddie?” I said.
The awful gasping sounds had stopped and there was a large pool of blood slowly forming around his body.
Eddie was dead.
I searched his pockets until I found his car keys. Thankfully the garage also had a side door, and I used that to go back out and start up his car. I looked around again, still nobody in sight.
Back in the garage, I opened the trunk and pulled out an armful of books. It took a few trips, but I was able to toss them all into the backseat of the car. At the bottom of the trunk was a strange mask, a wooden doll, and a carved stick. I had no idea what they were, but I tossed them into the car, too.
I sat in the driver’s seat, feeling the fear again, my arms and legs turning to lead. What about the body? My mind raced. Chop it up? No. No, I couldn’t do that. I would have to take the body with me somehow.
I ran back into the garage and struggled to put Eddie’s body into the old trunk. It wasn’t a perfect fit, and I had to sit on the lid a few time to get it to shut. I started laughing at that and I couldn’t stop. It took forever to get the trunk into the back of his car, and this time I tied the hatch down with a piece of twine from the garage.
Then I drove to Kristin’s house. I rang her doorbell over and over.
Finally, she opened the door a crack, and peeked through.
“Let me in,” I said.
“Why are you covered with blood?” she said.
“I’ll tell you inside.”
She looked over my shoulder and saw Eddie’s car.
“Where’s Eddie?”
“Open the damn door,” I said.
She considered me for a moment. Then she opened the door and I stepped in. Her house smelled like bleach, and something else, something tangy and sour.
Kristin handed me some ice wrapped in a wad of paper towel and I held it to my throbbing, bloody lips.
“Why are you wearing rubber gloves?” I asked her.
“You first. Where’s Eddie?”
I noticed here were blood stains all over the carpet and the walls. Kristin stood next to plastic bucket of foamy red water, with a big sponge floating around on top.
“He’s dead.”
“What?!”
“He wouldn’t let me have the books,” I said. “He was going to burn them...so...I shot him. I’m sorry.”
My body tensed. Her face got red, her eyes shiny.
“You bastard!”
She hit me hard on the chest with both her fists.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked.
“I was trying to shoot him in the leg,” I said. “I—I didn’t think I was going to kill him!”
Kristin put her hands over her eyes and started to howl.
“Oh my God!” she said.
“Okay, look, I know I messed up,” I said. “Just tell me what to do.”
“Oh my God,” said Kristin. “Oh God, oh, Eddie!”
“I’m—I’m really sorry.”
“Shut up!” she said. “Shut up! Shut up!”
She pushed me and then ran out of the room. I could hear her pounding up the stairs, running down the hall to her room, and then slamming the door.
And then I heard her sobbing. Awful, painful sobbing, like her guts were spilling out.
Good job, Charlie.
I looked around and saw Curtis on the sofa watching the Power Rangers. He always loved those guys. Especially the Pink Ranger.
There were bloody handprints on the couch, and bloody footprints all over the rug. Some of them had been scrubbed into big pink splotches.
“Curtis, what happened here, man?”
He slowly turned to look at me with his dead eyes and grinned.
A cold shiver ran up my body and I quickly left the room.
Standing outside the door to Kristin’s bedroom, I could still hear her crying, but softer now, more like sniffles with the occasional moan.
It felt weird being outside her door. It was just like all those dreams I had been having, ever since this whole mess began. For a moment I felt this terrifying sense of disorientation. The real world was gone and only nightmares lay ahead.
“Kristin?” I said.
I could hear her sniffling again, but she didn’t reply.
“Kristin, I would never hurt you on purpose. I hope you know that. I’m really, really sorry I killed Eddie. I was only trying to help, but, uh, I guess I messed up. As usual.”
There was nothing but silence and I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
The door opened ever so slightly. I could see half her tear-soaked face, her one eye bright red and puffy.
“You didn’t chop up his body, did you?”
“No,” I said.
“Why did he want to burn the books?”
“He didn’t want you to mess around with any more magic.”
She looked at me in silence.
“He said the books were evil.”
“But they’re okay?”
“Yeah, I got them.”
“Where’s his body?”
“Out in the car. In the trunk.”
“Bring him inside,” she said.
“Uh, the trunk is really heavy. Could we get Curtis to do it?”
She nodded and we went back downstairs into the blood-splattered room.
“Curtis,” said Kristin, “Go out to the car and get the trunk.”
Curtis sat there, ignoring her, and watched his show. The Power Rangers were about to defeat the evil robot.
“Curtis?” she said again.
No reaction.
“Forget it,” she said. “I’ll help you.”
“Wait, wait,” I said, pointing to the blood stains on the walls and the floor. “What the heck happened here?”
“There was an accident,” she said. “With my mom and dad.”
“Is this...are your parents...?” I couldn’t finish.
“They’re dead. Curtis got to them in the night, while I was sleeping.”
“I thought he obeyed your commands?”
“Don’t worry, everything’s under control,” she said.
I felt light-headed.
“Where are they now? Your parents, I mean?”
“I asked Curtis to get rid of the bodies,” she said. “So he ate them.”
“What?!”
“I know, I know!”
I looked over at Curtis and noticed that his belly was swollen up to about the size of a beach ball. I shuddered to think of what was in there.
“Can he digest them?” I asked.
“I hope so.”
“He could eat Eddie’s body,” I said.
“No,” she said. “I know what we’re going to do with Eddie’s body.”
It was a real struggle bringing the trunk around the back of her house to the cellar door, but we managed to carry it down to her basement and set it down next to the washer and dryer.
I opened the lid and there was Eddie, folded up and dead as a doornail. His eyes were still open, staring blankly ahead. There was a lot more blood in the trunk, too.
Kristin bent down and took his hand.
She brushed the hair out of Eddie’s eyes.
“We gonna bury him down here?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “Help me pull him out.”
We yanked Eddie’s body from the trunk and laid it down on the basement rug. He was sticky with blood. Then Kristin did a funny thing. She reached over and pulled open his mouth.
“What’s that for?” I said.
“Watch,” she said.
Kristin began speaking, softly, in some strange, mumbled tongue. It wasn’t English, it wasn’t any language I had ever heard, just odd, stuttering sounds.
Just like in my dream.
And then a spider emerged from under the washer and began creeping over toward Eddie. It was black, with those strange white marks on its back.
“Kristin!” I said.
“Just watch.”
The spider crawled up Eddie’s body, and then right into his mouth, where it disappeared.
I cried out in revulsion.
A few moments later, Eddie twitched.
“What are you doing?” I asked, panic in my voice.
“I’m making another zombie,” she said. “That way, Eddie won’t be gone.”
Eddie lurched to his feet, and looked around.
“This is really bad,” I said.
Eddie turned at the sound of my voice and looked at me. In his eyes there was recognition.
“Two zombies are better than one,” said Kristin.
And then Eddie attacked me. His hands were on my face, his thumbs pressing against my eyes. I struggled to break his grip, but I couldn’t pull them away.
Eddie was making a low, strange sound, like a moan or a roar. I was screaming.
“Get off him!” said Kristin. “Now, Eddie! Get off!”
I felt Eddie let go, and I fell back a few steps, grimacing in pain.
“Go upstairs,” she said to Eddie. “Now!”
Eddie reluctantly marched up the stairs, one plodding footstep after another.
I turned to Kristin.
“Are you freaking crazy?” I asked.
“You killed him, not me!”
“I said I was sorry!”
“And now I’ve brought him back to life again,” she said. “So everything’s okay.”
“Everything is not okay,” I said. “Everything is really far away from okay right now.”
She looked at me, frowning.
“You think I don’t know that? You think this is easy for me?”
I had no answer for that, and I looked down at my hands. They were bloody.
Kristin watched me for a moment, then gently took Eddie by the hand and led him back upstairs.
“Watch your step,” she said to him.
They disappeared out of view and my heart sank. Kristin was in love with a teenage zombie. It was almost funny. If it didn’t suck.
I went upstairs and Eddie was scrubbing the blood stain on the carpet with a big sponge. Kristin was watching him, holding a glass in her hand.
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing to her glass.
“Rum,” she said. “Care for a swig, matey?”
“How did you do that spider thing?” I asked.
She didn’t answer.
“You learn how to do that in your dreams?”
She nodded.
“Last night was another strange one,” she said. “I was dressed in old-fashioned clothes. Everyone kept calling me by another name, and I had all these brothers and sisters. My dad wasn’t my real dad, it was this other guy and...then we were in Africa again, there was chanting and...I was talking to the Spider Lady. Or she was talking to me, and I couldn’t look away, her red eyes were burning into my brain...and you were there, right outside the door...”
I felt the hairs on my arms stand up.
Then my cell phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number. I hesitated for a moment then answered it.
“Hello?” I said.
“Charlie, this is Detective Powell. Where are you?”
I hung up the phone immediately. It rang again, so I hit the ignore button.
Kristin saw the look on my face.
“What?” she asked.
“I think the cops are looking for me,” I said.
Her face sank. Panic stirred in her eyes.
“What do we do now?” she said.
“We go on the run,” I said, almost smiling.
“To where?”
“Mexico, Canada.”
“I don’t have a passport,” she said.
“Okay, then Mexico.”
“For real?”
“Sure.”
Kristin just looked kind of dazed and started to tremble. I grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her straight in the eye.
“We could go to some sleepy little village and dance around with giant skeleton puppets. We could—we could paint heroic murals on the sides of adobe buildings. Peasants harvesting corn, burros, bearded revolutionaries. Or…or we could join the circus. El Circo! I could fire you out of a giant cannon. Boom!”
“This is insane,” she said. “You know that?”
“No more thinking,” I said. “Go get your suitcase. Let’s go!”
Kristin took a big gulp of rum then headed off to pack her things. I waited for her to go up the stairs and out of sight before I took out my cell phone.
Then I took a deep breath and called home.
“Hello,” I said. “Aunt Rose?”
“Charlie? Oh, my God. I’ve been trying to call you all day. I thought—I don’t know what I thought. Where are you?”
“Aunt Rose, can I ask you a question?”
There was a short moment of silence.
“Okay,” she said.
“Why did my mom kill herself?”
“Charlie, you know the answer to—“
“I mean, why did she really kill herself?”
“She was mentally ill, Charlie. You know that. We’ve been over this.”
“Is that it?” I said.
“She heard voices. Saw things that weren’t there. People. Other things. She became completely paranoid. Convinced herself that someone was watching her.”
“Who?” I asked.
There was silence again.
“She tried to give you away, Charlie. Did you know that? Three times. Starting when you were a baby. She tried to give you away to strangers, just, random strangers.”
No one had told me that before.
“You said she made a mistake,” I said. “What mistake? Am I the mistake?”
“No, Charlie—”
“Just tell me the truth, Aunt Rose.”
There was a long moment of silence.
“Please?” I asked.
“Your mother couldn’t conceive a child…the doctors told her it was biologically impossible…so, she…she went to someone else for help. A witch.”
“A witch?” I said. “Who?”
“It’s not important who, Charlie. She never should have involved herself with magic. Your mother didn’t realize the danger until it was too late…and then she died.”
I suddenly remembered the envelope folded-up in my back pocket.
“Was it Mrs. Elmwood-Ravensburg? Is that why you don’t want me to talk to her?”
“Come home, Charlie. Please. Leave all this alone and come home. You know I love you, I may not say it very often, but it’s true. I love you with all my heart…and ...I don’t want to see…anything bad happen to you…”
I realized she was crying.
“I’mI’m sorry, Aunt Rose…I think I have to go away for awhile. I have to fix this. I have to fix a lot of stuff. Everything.”
“What are you talking about? Fix what?”
“Thanks for taking care of me, Aunt Rose. I—I love you, too. Hopefully, I’ll be back soon, huh?”
“Charlie, what are you doing? Charlie—”
I hung up, and quickly turned my phone off.
To my surprise, my eyes were tearing up.
Kristin stumbled back downstairs holding her suitcase.
“Change of plans,” I said. “We’re not going to Mexico?”
“We’re not?”
“We’re going to Sloatsville!”
“What’s in Sloatsville?” she asked.
“A witch,” I said. “A good witch. I think.”
“With a big wand and a poufy hat?”
“Sure,” I said.
“How do you know she’s good?”
“She wrote me a letter,” I said, pulling it out from my pocket and unfolding it for Kristin to see.
“What does it say?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t had time to read it yet. I’ve been a little busy.”
“Shooting people and messing up our lives?”
“Hey, I had help messing up our lives!”
Suddenly the house phone rang.
“Don’t answer that,” I said.
Kristin picked up the phone.
“Hello,” she slurred.
Her eyes went wide and she quickly hung up.
“The police,” she said.
“Get the zombies in the car,” I said. “Hurry!”
Kristin quickly herded our undead friends out the door. We decided to take her mom’s mini-van. Plenty of room for our zombies, I thought, feeling strangely excited. It was a nine hour drive to Sloatsville. By tomorrow, hopefully, the curse would be broken and everything would be back to normal.
“Don’t forget the books!” said Kristin.
As I threw the books into the car, I stole a moment to flip through a couple, searching for the images that had so disturbed Eddie. There were a bunch of them, drawings of dismembered bodies, hands with their fingertips on fire; strange floppy things. Many featured engravings of woodland clearings full of cavorting devils and bare-breasted witches, presided over by old Satan himself, a giant man with the head of a goat and a strange-looking scepter.
The drawings were very realistic.
I was starting to have second thoughts about the books, but I beat them down. They had to help us. Mrs. Elmwood-Ravensburg would help us figure out a way to use them, the proper way, and break whatever curse the Spider Lady had put on us.
Because if I let myself feel hopeless for even a moment, all would be lost.
I volunteered to drive first, mostly so Kristin could sober up a bit. She had been stumbling around for a while now. We put Curtis and Eddie in the back seat. For once, they didn’t complain. Kristin sat next to me and I turned the key in the ignition and started the car.
The radio was blasting music. Lots of epic guitar riffs and a man singing about the Devil.
“This song rocks!” said Kristin. “Right, guys?”
Curtis and Eddie grunted in the back.
I held onto the steering wheel for dear life.
Kristin turned up the volume and we were gone.
