by Brian Harmon
That’s why Paul was so sick. He walked right up to that jar. Eric, on the other hand, had backed away as soon as he realized it wasn’t natural. It had nothing to do with shooting Wire Ties. (Who, it seems, really was dead when they got there. Because why else would this guy dump his body there if he wasn’t dead yet?)
One thing at a time, he supposed.
“You showed up there right after I left. I guess it didn’t have time to permeate the entire building. But still…you were there for a while.”
“You knew how long we were there,” Eric realized. “You’re not just setting traps. You’re monitoring them, too.”
Steampunk Monk peered over his glasses, interested. “We?”
Eric opened his mouth, but quickly closed it again. This wasn’t the most intelligent conversation he’d ever had. He might as well tell this guy his whole life story.
“I see,” said Steampunk Monk. “You weren’t alone. Someone else went to those places with you. The redhead? Those two idiots on Main Street?”
Eric said nothing.
The man chuckled. “Well that solves that riddle. But it still doesn’t explain how you shook off the hallucinations I gave you.”
He shrugged. “I can’t tell you that. Maybe I’ve got a fast metabolism for that sort of thing.”
“Or maybe it has something to do with the psychic energy you’re absorbing.”
“Like I said, I don’t know anything about that.”
“Maybe not.”
“So let’s talk about you now,” said Eric. “Who are you? Where do you get all this stuff?”
“Fine. I guess that’s fair. I’m just an inventor. And I make all this stuff. My employer provides me unique ingredients and in return I use them to investigate stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Confidential, I’m afraid.”
“Of course it is. Why are you in Creek Bend?”
“I was assigned here. There was a request for an assistant who could gain access to certain…private facilities.”
“Someone who could see the unseen.”
“Exactly.” He removed the other glasses from his pocket. “You recognized this, didn’t you?”
“I saw something like it once. A while back.”
Steampunk Monk gave him another smug grin and put the spectacles away again. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about a charred corpse inside an old, veiled schoolhouse, would you?”
“I never saw anything like that,” he replied. It was the truth, too. He never saw what became of Pink Shirt. He heard it, was all but responsible for it, but he never saw it. And he never intended to see it if he could help it. “So you’re just here to run errands for your partner?”
“My associate,” he insisted.
“Right. My mistake.”
“I don’t have a partner. You can’t trust partners. Not in my line of work.”
Eric nodded. He’d noticed. “And what is your associate doing in Creek Bend?”
“You’ll have to ask her about that. She doesn’t tell me much. I’m just supposed to let her into places and apparently dump the occasional body so she doesn’t have to get her hands dirty.”
“So you’re her bitch?”
Steampunk Monk stared at him for a moment, his brow furrowed. That was a dangerous move. The man had a gun, after all. Plus an arsenal of mind-warping chemicals, it seemed. But he didn’t get angry. In fact, he laughed. “I like you.”
“A lot of people like me. I’m not sure why.”
“I’m a patient man. I’ll play the bitch’s bitch for a while. And we’ll see what happens.”
“I’m guessing she’s the reason these wendigoes are popping up around town.”
“Probably,” he replied. “She’s up to something. There’s a peculiar vibe in the air. She’s affecting things around here.”
Eric considered the man for a moment. “But you don’t know anything about it?”
“Not my business. I’m just here to assist.”
“Right.” Eric wasn’t buying it. This guy was nosing all over town, searching for things. And yet he had no clue what his own partner—sorry, associate—was up to?
Steampunk Monk shrugged. “Believe what you will. And I’ll believe what I will. I know nothing about what my associate is up to and you know nothing about the psychic energy you’re hoarding and the corpse in the veiled schoolhouse.”
That did seem fair, he supposed.
“I really do have stuff to do,” he said. “Like I said, I abhor killing someone if I don’t have to. So are we going to part peacefully or do I need to waste more of my concoctions on you?”
Eric considered him for a moment and then showed him his hands. “Truce?”
He smiled. “And we’ll keep those friends of yours just between us for now. No need for my associate to know about them. You’re an intriguing man, Mr. English Teacher. I look forward to seeing where this leads us.”
“Yeah. Can’t wait.”
The steampunk monk turned and walked away.
Eric stood where he was for a moment, hesitant to step out into the hallway too soon. He really didn’t want another face full of wonderland juice.
This guy didn’t seem so bad for an agent. He didn’t like to kill people. That was a twist for these guys. He thought they all liked killing people. He thought that was why they did it. But then again, he’d been lied to before. Pink Shirt pretended to be on his side, too, and look how that turned out.
He now knew why Karen and Holly were acting so weird, at least. And he knew what was wrong with Paul, too. Supposedly, the effects were all temporary and nonfatal, but he couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t being lied to about that. Or about anything for that matter.
Although the bit about the monsters being wendigoes was probably fairly accurate. He didn’t see any reason to lie about that. He didn’t know if that part about them turning into super-wendigoes when they tasted blood was true, but it was always a good practice to avoid letting monsters taste your blood, so he planned to just go with it.
His cell phone buzzed at him. He pulled it out of his pocket and fumbled with the charger for a moment until he realized that the phone was fully charged. Then he unplugged it and returned the charger to his pocket.
WENDIGOES ARE DEFINITELY REAL
“You knew about them?”
I’VE HEARD OF THEM. I DIDN’T KNOW THAT’S WHAT THESE THINGS WERE. IF HE’S TELLING THE TRUTH, YOU NEED TO BE EXTRA CAREFUL
He glanced down at the corpse at his feet. “So they really do gain supernatural powers when they taste blood?”
I’M NOT SURE ABOUT SUPERNATURAL POWERS OR IF IT’S TASTING BLOOD THAT DOES IT, BUT I DO KNOW THEY CAN TRANSFORM INTO SCARIER, MEANER THINGS
Eric nodded. “So like gremlins, except they start out about a billion times scarier and go from there. Fantastic. I’m sure that’ll ruin my day somehow.”
I SURE HOPE NOT. LET’S HOPE THEY STAY CUTE AND CUDDLY
“Yeah. Let’s hope.”
WE KNOW THAT THE GRAY AGENTS WERE TRYING TO REPLICATE THE WORK OF THE AGENTS IN 1881 AND THAT WOMAN IS TRYING TO DO THE SAME AGAIN TODAY
Eric nodded. “The original experiment opened a portal in the basement of the old high school.”
EXACTLY. SO IT MAKES SENSE THAT WHATEVER SHE’S UP TO IS LETTING THESE WENDIGOES CROSS OVER FROM THEIR DIMENSION
He slipped the phone back into his pocket and then peered out into the hallway.
Steampunk Monk was gone.
He needed to get back to the others before more of these things crossed over.
Chapter Thirty-Five
When Eric returned to the gymnasium, he found Paul, Kevin and Holly in the far corner, well away from the dead wendigo.
Paul was curled up on the floor against the wall, groaning and looking sicker than ever.
Kevin was sitting cross-legged nearby, rubbing at his eyes.
Holly was dancing.
Slowly, rhythmically, she moved her body t
o music he couldn’t hear, her motions graceful and fluid, sultry, sexy. She ran her hands down her body and let her long, red curls cascade over her shoulders. He’d seen her dance like this before, the very first time he ever saw her. Except that she was nude that time.
He crossed the room toward her. “Hey, Holly…”
“Hm?”
“What’re you doing?”
“Dancing,” she replied. She sounded distant, dreamy.
Kevin sat up straight and blinked repeatedly, trying to clear his vision. “She’s been acting like that since you left. It’s like she’s high off her ass or something.”
He recalled the steampunk monk telling him that she was going to be fine in a few hours and “better than fine” until then. He must’ve been talking about this, because unlike poor Paul, she certainly didn’t seem to be suffering.
“Do you like my dancing?” asked Holly. “Do I look pretty?”
“Um…yeah. Sure. Very pretty. Maybe we should get you out of here.”
But she didn’t seem to be listening. “I like it when I get to dance pretty.” Then she poked out her lower lip in a childish pout. “Karen says I can’t dance pretty anymore. She thinks I’m a whore.”
“Karen doesn’t think you’re a whore,” Eric assured her. “That’s ridiculous.”
“She doesn’t like it. She thinks it’s dirty.”
“What can I say? She’s old fashioned.”
“I don’ care. Maybe I wanna dance dirty sometimes! Everybody use to tell me I was pretty when I danced.” She pouted again. “Nobody tells me I’m pretty anymore.”
“You’re very pretty,” said Eric. “You’re always very pretty. Not just when you dance.”
“That’s right…” groaned Paul. “Very pretty… Pretty lady…” He clutched his head and curled up tighter. “Oh God, why won’t the room stop spinning?”
Holly turned and threw herself into Eric’s arms, forcing him to catch her.
“Oh, let’s not do that…” he grunted.
But she didn’t let go of him. She nuzzled her face against his chest. “You’re a nice guy. Mos’ guys aren’t nice. Not really. They pretend to be nice, but they’re not. Not like you.”
“Okay…” said Eric. “Let’s stand up on our own now, how about?”
Paul groaned again and rolled onto his back. “Hey… I’m nice.”
“Will you dance with me?” asked Holly.
“I’m not much of a dancer,” Eric told her.
“Pleeeeease?”
“I’d dance with you,” said Kevin. “If I could only see again…”
“No!” she grumbled, thrusting a finger at him. “You’re not a nice guy! You touched my boob!”
“I told you, I’m blind! I was trying to take your other hand!”
“Stop yelling!” shouted Paul. He curled himself into a ball again and covered his ears.
“I don’ believe you!” she whispered as loudly as possible.
“Okay,” said Eric. Holly was still leaning on him, forcing him to hold her up. “Let’s just concentrate on getting everyone out of the scary, deserted rec center and back into the car before the monsters come back. Can we do that?”
But she wasn’t listening to him. “If I was gonna let anyone touch me on my boobs it’d be Eric, ‘cause he’s a nice guy.”
Eric blushed. “I don’t… I’m not…”
She looked up at him. “But I wouldn’t!” she said. “Not really. ‘Cause Karen wouldn’t like that.” Then, in her loudest whisper again, “And Karen’s super scary when she’s mad!”
“That’s true,” said Paul. “She is.”
She put her head against his shoulder and swayed back and forth to the music in her head.
“Let’s just stand up on our own feet and go outside,” said Eric.
“I like to dance…” pouted Holly. Then, suddenly, she stood up straight and looked at Eric, her eyes wide. “I can dance right now! And Karen can’t say no because she’s not here! Who wants to see me dance naked?”
“Oh come on!” shouted Kevin. “That’s just mean!”
“She’s not dancing naked!” snapped Eric. “You’re not dancing naked,” he told her.
“Aw…” whined Holly.
“Anybody wanna see me dance naked?” asked Paul.
Eric and Kevin both told him no.
“That’s good, ‘cause I’m not feeling much like dancing right now…”
Holly started giggling.
Eric received another text message: YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF THERE AND GET MOVING
“I know. I’m trying.”
TRY HARDER. DON’T YOU SEE WHAT’S HAPPENING?
“Everybody’s lost their freaking minds?”
HOLLY IS DANCING AND PAUL IS ON THE FLOOR DRUNK
He frowned at the phone for a moment, confused. Then he remembered. Holly’s vision in the water. The broken clock, the woman with the devil horns, the dead man rising from the grave and…
WELCOME TO THE PARTY
“I was dancing,” Holly had said, “Paul was drunk and we all got lost in a fog.”
Eric felt a chill race all the way up his back. He even knew what the fog was. It was the steampunk monk’s concoctions clouding their minds, taking them away from him one by one. No one was going to be able to help him anymore.
He was on his own.
YOU STILL HAVE ME
That was true. That was always true. But she could only do so much. And they were rapidly running out of time.
It had all come true. They were down to the fiery finale. Next, the city would burn. Something would rise. And his lifeless body would be dragged away.
“Come on,” he said, firmly taking Holly by the hand. She was still giggling. “It’s time to go.”
“I can’t move…” groaned Paul.
“Now!” he shouted.
“All right, all right!” He sat up, clutching at his head. “Who died and made you…some kind of… Uh… Pissy pants… Ow.”
“Kevin, stay with him.”
“Fine,” grumbled Kevin. He fumbled toward the nearest blurry shape and followed it as it staggered toward the door.
“My brain hurts…” complained Paul. “Why does my brain hurt so much?”
“Lack of exercise, probably,” replied Kevin.
“You think so?”
“Pretty sure.”
“Huh.”
I’M CALLING DIANE RIGHT NOW
“Awesome,” Eric told her. “Thank you.”
SHE’LL BE WAITING FOR YOU
“What’re you and Isabelle always talking about?” asked Holly. “I’ll bet you keep all kinds of secrets.” She gasped. “Wait… Do you guys talk about me?”
“We don’t talk about you,” he assured her.
“You would say that.” She poked him in the chest with her finger. “Because it’s a secret.”
“I promise you I don’t keep secrets from you.”
“I don’ believe you.”
“Okay.”
As they approached the door, Eric saw the steampunk monk’s party cracker dangling from the top of the door. It was broken, the mysterious dust inside spilled. It would’ve fallen on Karen when she first opened the door and peered inside.
It didn’t affect her immediately. It wasn’t until after they left that she started behaving strangely. It started with a headache in the car and a little dizziness in the parking lot of the Aberration Station. If he remembered right, she took her hair down and tied it back up right before they went into the gallery. It must’ve been in her hair.
As they stepped out into the sunshine, Holly said, “You know what’s not fair?”
“What’s that?” he asked.
She poked him again, this time on the cheek. “You got to see me naked last year.”
He felt himself blush. “I wasn’t really looking at—”
“When do I get to see you naked?”
“Please just get in the car,” he begged.
Chapter Thirty
-Six
“What did you do to her?” demanded Diane as she rushed out the door to meet them.
“What do you mean what’d I do to her?” said Eric as he helped Holly out of the vehicle.
Diane lived alone in a modest, ground-level apartment across from the Lutheran school. She wasn’t married. Karen described her as a “career dater.” She had a new boyfriend practically every month, but she couldn’t seem to find one she wanted to keep for more than a few weeks. There was something wrong with each and every one of them.
“Isabelle said she was attacked!”
“She’s not hurt,” he assured her. Behind him, Paul and Kevin were both stepping out of the vehicle, too. Paul looked as if he might throw up again. Kevin simply squinted up at the sky, still trying to blink his vision clear.
Holly was clinging to Eric’s elbow. “Hi Diane!” she yelled. Then, in that loud, pointless whisper she’d been using, she asked, “Are you going to help Eric save the world, too?”
“Is she on drugs?”
Holly clapped a hand over her mouth, as if in shock, and then lowered it and said, “Nooo! I don’ drugs! I mean du-rugs…” She squeezed her eyes closed and tried again: “Do. Drugs. I don’ do drugs… I’m good girl!”
“That damn steampunk monk did it. It’s like what happened to Karen, I think. He said it’d wear off in a few hours.”
“And you believed him?”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore. I’m just telling you what he said. Where’s Karen?”
“Inside, going through my DVD collection, making a mess.” She took Holly’s arm and started leading her toward the door. “It’s like having a toddler in the house. I wish I knew what was wrong with her.”
“Same thing that’s wrong with everybody else. Some kind of mind-altering dust and chemicals. Probably some kind of drug, but I don’t know for sure. It could be witchcraft. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He gestured toward Kevin and Paul as they stepped out of the vehicle. “Paul’s sick. Poor Kevin’s blind.”
“It’s getting better,” said Kevin. “I think…”
