The Slice

by Greg Taylor

  A frown suddenly distorted Calanthe’s features. “In all that’s happened these last few days, I forgot all about Strobe. How is he doing?”

  Annabel looked over at Toby, her concerned expression asking, Should we tell her?

  Toby thought about that, then nodded. Better that Calanthe know everything. She would eventually, anyway, so why not now?

  * * *

  Walking at the edge of the exercise room, Calanthe dragged her hand along the wall as she went. Her downcast expression signaled how bad she felt about what she had just heard.

  In addition to the dekayi village fiasco, Annabel had also relayed to Calanthe the updated information she had received from Strobe that morning. His otherworldly tracking device. The jump from the train. His hours-long walk through the forest, which had taken most of the night, a trek that finally ended when he stumbled on a rest stop at the side of the Pennsylvania Turnpike. At that very moment, Strobe was on his way back to Ohio, courtesy of a trucker named Mustang.

  Calanthe suddenly stopped her pacing and looked over at Toby and Annabel. “I’m ashamed of what my people did to Strobe. As for the others, I don’t even know what to say—”

  “They’re not your people anymore, Calanthe,” Annabel said. “We are. You’re here. With us, now.”

  “Which is why they’re coming for me,” Calanthe said, her voice sounding flat, resolved to that fact.

  “No, they’re not,” Toby said. “Didn’t you hear what Annabel just told you? Strobe found out how they were following him. He took care of it.”

  “It doesn’t matter what Strobe does. They will find me.”

  “How do you know that?” Toby followed his question with a short, nervous laugh.

  Calanthe had a puzzled expression on her face. She looked as though she had just discovered—at that very moment—how it was she knew that her people would find her. “When I was picturing Strobe in my village, what happened to him, what happened to the others. All of a sudden, I just knew.”

  Toby was getting a really weird feeling about all this. When he glanced at Annabel, he could tell she was feeling the same way.

  “It’s because of the Altering,” Calanthe explained. “I feel completely different now. I feel like … I’ve grown up. I’m so much more sensitive to everything. My entire body is able to pick up sensations it wasn’t able to before.”

  “But maybe you’re wrong, about them coming after you,” Annabel suggested, her whispery voice sounding a bit desperate to Toby. “I mean, everything you’re feeling right now … it must be kind of like an explosion of feelings, right? It has to be hard to sort it all out. To get used to it.”

  Calanthe shook her head. “They will arrive here. Sometime before the Day of Days. Don’t you see? The elders of my village will interpret these recent events as punishment.”

  “Punishment?”

  “Yes. From our gods. My people have done something to upset them. This is what the elders will believe. Which means they have to find me now. I’m the one. The only one. They must sacrifice me, and only me, in order to win back our gods favor.”

  “This is totally crazy,” Toby said. “You don’t believe all that stuff, do you, Calanthe?”

  When Calanthe didn’t respond right away, it was clear that she was struggling with her answer. In that moment, Toby understood just how difficult it had been—and still was—for Calanthe to simply throw away everything she had learned in her first fourteen years. All of her customs, all of her beliefs.

  Finally, Calanthe said, “No, I don’t believe any of that any longer. But my people do, and that’s all that matters. I can’t tell you exactly when they’ll be here. Or how many will come. But this much I know.…”

  When Calanthe looked at Toby and Annabel, just before she told them what it was she knew, her dark eyes suddenly became luminous, the way they briefly were that morning in Annabel’s room on her first day of school.

  Seeing this, Toby felt a chill run right down his spine. He had always felt a strange kind of power emanating from Calanthe, right from the first time he had laid eyes on her. But now the power was more than just palpable. It was there, in full sight, in the luminous glow of her eyes. And Toby knew Calanthe was telling the truth when she said …

  “They are definitely coming for me, and there is nothing we can do to stop them.”

  1

  “I swear … this time … I’ve really, really had it…”

  Marching up the cracked walkway to the front door of the dilapidated house, Mrs. Riley mumbled angrily to herself as she went. She lived right next door to the house that had long been dubbed “haunted” by the kids of the neighborhood. For well over twenty years, generations of children had delighted in telling gruesome stories to one another about what the mean old man who lived there—rarely seen—had done to the unfortunate kids who had strayed onto his property.

  Ironically, with Halloween just days away, the haunted house was the only one on the street that wasn’t decorated for the holiday. But the local kids wouldn’t want it any other way. The creepy place—with its overgrown trees and bushes and half-attached outdoor shutters hanging askew and the always curtained windows—was perfect just as it was.

  Mrs. Riley wasn’t thinking about the haunted house stuff as she knocked firmly on the door. (She knew from past visits the doorbell didn’t work.) It was the incessant barking of the man’s two dogs that was driving her crazy. She hated that the man kept the poor things outside all the time. Even in the winter! Who on earth would do such a thing, especially to such little dogs? Why have pets if you never allowed them inside, anyway? So, yes, Mrs. Riley definitely felt sorry for the dogs, but still … somehow or other, their barking had to stop.

  Mrs. Riley suddenly stopped pounding on the door. The old man hadn’t answered, no surprise, but that wasn’t the thing that had provoked her to stop knocking. It was the sound of the dogs, inside the house. They would be outside for a few moments, then inside. Outside, inside. Going absolutely crazy with their barking, even more so than usual.

  Mrs. Riley had never heard the dogs inside, so that was definitely odd. She peeked through a cracked window in the front door, couldn’t see anything except a deserted hall and a stairway to the right. The place really did have a haunted look, what with the visible layers of dust in the hallway and on the stairway bannister and the overall feeling of … well, the place truly was spooky. And so was the old man who lived inside.

  Just the same, Mrs. Riley stepped off the small square concrete porch and walked around to the side yard. She needed to have it out with Mr. Stull. This couldn’t wait any longer. When she arrived at the gate at the back of the house, she tried the latch … and the gate swung open.

  Mrs. Riley paused. Should she really go back there? What about the dogs? They might attack her. But Mrs. Riley didn’t think so. She was a dog person herself and knew the adage about a dog’s bark being worse than its bite was true, more often than not.

  So Mrs. Riley took a confident step into the overgrown and cluttered backyard. Immediately, two ugly little mutts popped through a hole in the glass sliding door at the back of the house. They charged at Mrs. Riley, barking shrilly, but stopped before they reached her. Mrs. Riley had the feeling they were trying to tell her something, not scare her away. When she looked over at the sliding door, Mrs. Riley gasped. Someone had smashed a huge hole in the glass door!

  The atmosphere in the backyard suddenly felt charged to Mrs. Riley. Dangerous. She felt the hair at the back of her neck stand on end.

  “Mister Stull?” she called out, loud and clear.

  No answer.

  Call the police. Now. Tell them about the break-in. Mrs. Riley knew that’s what she should do, but instead … she took a step toward the door. Then another one.

  Yes, just go back home and call the police. That’s what any sane person would do.

  But before she knew it, Mrs. Riley was stepping through the large jagged hole in the sliding glass door, pushing aside t
he dirty curtains as she went, and …

  She was inside the house.

  What on earth do you think you’re doing?! Mrs. Riley felt scared and thrilled at the same time. She squinted to try to see better in the dark room. It looked like a den of some sort, with way too much furniture, randomly placed around the room. Sitting on a stand was a very old-fashioned television that looked like it was from the 1970s. The TV was on, playing a game show.

  Very, very creepy. As though sensing that something was very wrong inside the house, the dogs had stayed outside. Barking.

  “Mister Stull?”

  Still no response. Mrs. Riley focused on a plaid stuffed lounge chair on the other side of the room. The chair was facing away from her and toward the TV. An arm was draped over the side of the chair.

  Mrs. Riley’s heart was really racing now. She knew she had gone far enough. She should get out, right now. But there was that part of her, the “I shouldn’t open the door, but I have to open the door!” part that caused her to slowly circle around the chair, kicking aside bits of glass from the shattered sliding door as she went.

  Getting closer to the chair, Mrs. Riley noticed a silver-dollar-size hole in the back of it, near the top, with some stuffing popping out. After a few more steps, Mrs. Riley stopped when she had reached a spot where she could see Mr. Stull.

  “What on earth!”

  Mrs. Riley felt her breath catch. The figure sitting stiffly in the chair looked like a mummy, one that was wearing clothes instead of wrappings. The skin looked like parchment paper. This person, this thing, couldn’t possibly be Mr. Stull. He was old, but he wasn’t that old!

  Mrs. Riley had a sudden thought that this must be a prank of some sort, something cooked up by the kids in the neighborhood. Taking another step, she put herself between the TV and the stuffed chair. From her new angle, with the flickering blue light of the television behind her, she was now able to clearly see the figure’s ghastly face.

  And Mrs. Riley knew this was no Halloween prank. The decrepit figure in the chair was definitely Mr. Stull, the distinctive, massive black mole on his forehead being a dead giveaway. But the horrifying thing about the obviously dead man was … he had no eyes!

  There was a split second for this to register with Mrs. Riley, then she threw her hands up in front of her face, stumbled backward and …

  “EEEEEEEYYYYYYYYIIIIIIAAAAAAAAAA!!!”

  * * *

  Energized from its detour to the small town of Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania, north of Pittsburgh, the rukh smashed through the dark woods in a kind of gleeful, demented rage. As with its trip to the Central Park Zoo, the creature had just left something more in its wake than its distinctive scent, a scent that spooked any animal it crossed paths with. It had left an urban legend-size mystery.

  Yes, the kids on Mrs. Riley’s street would now have fresh fuel for their haunted-house stories. A new, amped-up version. Mr. Stull, the mummified, ghostly avenger!

  The creature had been making steady progress since it began its tristate journey, charging nightly through the heavily forested Pennsylvania landscape, slowly but surely zeroing in on its prey. Unfortunately for Calanthe, the hideous demon was showing no aftereffects from its fall from the New York rooftop. Matter of fact, it looked stronger—and deadlier—than ever. Mr. Stull could certainly attest to that.

  If the mean old man in the haunted house were still alive, that is.

  2

  Strobe winced as he got out of bed. He was still sore in places he’d never felt sore before. Going into the bathroom, he checked himself out in the mirror. Black-and-blue marks all over his body, numerous cuts and scrapes, the result of his wild-and-tumble ride down the gravel incline and into the woods after he had jumped from the train. At least no bones were broken. It was just a matter of bandaging up the cuts, taking an Advil or two, and Strobe figured he’d be good to go.

  Where Strobe was going was to the basement of Killer Pizza. He had arrived in Hidden Hills earlier in the day, had gone home after he was sure his mother was off to work, and slept away most of the day while Toby and Annabel were at school. The plan was to meet to figure out how to deal with the impending arrival of the dekayi. When Strobe had heard from Annabel about Calanthe’s new powers, and her declaration that her people were definitely coming for her, he was less certain that he had given the dekayi the slip.

  The meeting was happening in an hour or so, so Strobe applied some ointment to his cuts, put on the bandages, and went gingerly to look for the Advil.

  * * *

  Unfortunately, over at Annabel’s house, something was underway that threatened not only to derail the group’s important meeting, but also lift the mask of Calanthe’s identity disguise. Annabel was sitting on the living room sofa. Her father, too angry to sit still, paced back and forth on the carpet. Mrs. Oshiro was perched on an ornate stuffed chair opposite Annabel.

  “You’re hiding something from us,” Mr. Oshiro said as he passed in front of his daughter. “We know this, and we want to know what it is.”

  Annabel was doing her best to look composed and unconcerned, even though she was anything but. Calanthe had not returned to the Oshiro household for several days now—and Annabel was desperately trying to figure how to explain why she wasn’t around.

  Annabel had told her parents that Calanthe was staying at a newfound friend’s house while she recuperated in the Killer Pizza basement. That was over the weekend, however, and it was now Tuesday and her parents weren’t buying that Calanthe was still with this new phantom friend of hers.

  That wasn’t the only thing that was making Mr. and Mrs. Oshiro suspicious of their daughter and their foreign-exchange-student houseguest. Try as she might, Annabel hadn’t been able to submerge her concern about what had occurred over the past few days, and her parents had picked up on her anxiety. They knew something was off with her. And they wanted to know what it was, having surprised her when she had come home from school.

  “Well, you see…” Annabel hesitated, not having a clue how to finish her sentence. She was in the midst of a real crisis, and she had no idea how to get out of it.

  “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Oshiro.”

  Jolted by the sound of Calanthe’s voice, everyone turned toward the entrance to the living room. Calanthe stood in the archway, an innocent smile on her face. She was dressed in the outfit Annabel had taken over to the KP basement the day before.

  “Calanthe,” Mrs. Oshiro said, surprised by her sudden appearance. Mr. Oshiro’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. He didn’t trust this young woman.

  Calanthe didn’t appear intimidated by Mr. Oshiro’s scrutiny as she walked across the room and sat next to Annabel. “I have a feeling that you’re discussing where I’ve been.”

  That’s exactly what we’re doing! Annabel thought, more concerned than relieved that Calanthe had returned to the Oshiro household. After all, what was Calanthe going to say about where she’d been?

  “I have a confession to make. Annabel has not been telling you the truth about this particular topic.”

  What?! Annabel tried to not appear blindsided at Calanthe’s statement.

  “It’s not her fault. I insisted that she not tell you the truth. I didn’t want you to worry about me, or burden you in any way.”

  Annabel nodded slowly, as though she knew what Calanthe was talking about.

  “I have been in the hospital. I had a diabetic attack.”

  This is getting more interesting all the time, Annabel thought.

  “Calanthe, of course we should have known that.” Mrs. Oshiro looked profoundly concerned about her houseguest’s revelation. Mr. Oshiro still looked suspicious.

  “It’s all under control now. I’m feeling much better. My parents have been informed, everything’s been taken care of. They paid the bill, dealt with all of that.” Calanthe nodded at Annabel’s parents, a soldiering-on expression on her face. “I do apologize for this, however. But as I said, I didn’t want to worry you. You have both been so
gracious to me. And you’re both very busy, I know, so I didn’t want to trouble you with this.”

  Annabel was amazed at Calanthe’s story. Where had she come up with it? Whatever the answer, Calanthe had pulled off the neat trick of completely silencing her parents. Even her Dad wasn’t sure what to say.

  Calanthe suddenly stood up. “I’m sorry, but if you’ll excuse me. I do still feel a bit weak.”

  “By all means, Calanthe.” Mrs. Oshiro stood and indicated the foyer, and the stairway beyond. “Is there anything we can get for you?”

  “No, thank you. I just need some rest.”

  And with that, Calanthe exited the room and went up the stairs to her bedroom. Annabel looked contritely at her parents. “I’m sorry, Mom and Dad. I know I shouldn’t have lied to you about this.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have.” Mr. Oshiro was stern in his reply, but his tone wasn’t as harsh as it had been, before Calanthe’s appearance.

  “Is it okay if I go make sure Calanthe has everything she needs? I know she wouldn’t tell you, even if she did need anything. She’s been so insistent to not burden you with any of this.”

  A look between Mr. and Mrs. Oshiro, then Annabel’s dad gave her a grudging nod. Annabel tried not to look too relieved. She was almost out of the room when Mr. Oshiro said, “No more lying, though, Annabel, understand? I won’t have that.”

  When Annabel turned toward her parents, one hand was behind her back, fingers crossed. “I promise. No more lying.”

  * * *

  Calanthe had gone to the Hidden Hills Library to do research for her make-believe story about her illness. This is what Annabel discovered right after going upstairs to Calanthe’s bedroom.

  “I was so amazed, Annabel, what I found there. Why didn’t you tell me about this place? It was like … the entire world within four walls, for anyone to discover!”

  Annabel smiled at Calanthe’s childlike enthusiasm over her discovery of the local library. “I guess you didn’t have a library in your village, huh?”