Croak

by Gina Damico

  “I—mmm . . .” He moaned blissfully, closing his eyes. “I’ll have an Essence of Newt. Straight up, no ice, with extra pulp . . . pulpy . . .” Lex kicked him under the table. His eyes sprang open. “What?”

  “Annnnd for you twooooo?”

  “Water,” they quickly said in unison.

  “Cominnnng right uuuup,” she replied, drifting away.

  Uncle Mort stood. “I need to, um, use the facilities,” he said, wandering off.

  Driggs watched him leave, then distractedly ran his fingers over the candle flame.

  Lex mentally prepared herself. She had never been any good at apologies, and she doubted this one would be the breakthrough she had been waiting for. “Hey,” she said. “I’m sorry about before.”

  “It’s okay.” His lips barely moved as he watched the yellow flickers. “You didn’t know.”

  Lex nodded for a moment. “Do you want to talk about—”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay. Um, if you ever want to, I’m always—”

  “Yeah. Got it.”

  Lex nodded her head yet again, certain that it would soon detach. She opened her mouth, then closed it. She picked up the menu and looked at it. She put it down.

  “Okay, clearly, I am terrible at this,” she confessed. “What do you want me to say?”

  He scratched at his neck. “It’s not really something I like to talk about. It was a long time ago.” He gave her a weak smile. “I ran away to Croak for very good reasons, just like everyone else.”

  Lex shrank. “Except for me.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’ve got a reason,” he said, indicating her blistered finger. “A better one than the rest of us, I’ll bet, since you were plucked from such obscurity.”

  “Obscurity?” She grinned. “You mean a warm, loving home?”

  Driggs finally cracked a smile and laughed. “Yeah. That’s the official definition.”

  The waitress brought a basket of muffins as Uncle Mort returned to the table and picked up a menu. “I could really go for some badger gizzards,” he said excitedly.

  “Why are you in such a good mood?” Lex asked. “And what are we doing here? Why the sudden splurge?”

  He chuckled guiltily. “Ah, I may have fined a nice Canadian couple for jaywalking.”

  Driggs gave him a wry look. “Was that before or after Kilda destroyed their camera?”

  “After. But they were leaving anyway, due to the impending gas explosion—”

  “Boys,” Lex interrupted, “let’s curb the A.D.D. for a little while, shall we? Are Kloo and Ayjay okay?”

  “Shaken up, but otherwise fine,” Uncle Mort said. “Afraid the eye is busted for good, though.”

  Driggs sank. “That sucks.”

  Uncle Mort thoughtfully stroked his own scar. “He’ll get used to it.”

  “What did Necropolis say about last night?” Lex asked.

  Uncle Mort lit up. “They’re furious!” he said with glee. “Practically ready to string me up because I gave out so many details.”

  “To the town, you mean?” Driggs asked.

  “Yeah. And to The Obituary.”

  Lex inhaled sharply. “You told the press?”

  “Yep. Cat’s out of the bag,” he said proudly. “Trust me, media coverage will help. One Senior team has already reported an Elixir death today, and more will follow. This bastard can’t stay hidden for long with the entire Grimsphere on the lookout.”

  Lex picked at a muffin. “I liked it better when it was just us.”

  “Speaking of which,” Uncle Mort said, shooting her a cryptic look, “let’s not tell anyone about that, okay? If people find out that you were the first one to see them—”

  “What?” Lex asked, determined to get to the bottom of this. “Are you embarrassed by me or something?”

  His face clouded over. “Lex, I swear on the working cold fusion device in the basement that I couldn’t be prouder of you. But not everyone . . .” He trailed off, searching for the right words. “You just have to realize that some people don’t approve of you. That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be here,” he added as she began to argue. “Because you absolutely do. But not everyone sees it that way.”

  “Like Norwood and Heloise.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why, though?” she asked. “Because I’m your niece?”

  “Something like that,” he murmured. “Listen, don’t worry about it. As long as I’ve got your back, you don’t need to give a rat’s ass what anyone else thinks.”

  Lex, irritated, smeared a blueberry across the table.

  He smirked. “Not that you ever do.”

  21

  The next day, DeMyse’s director of Ether Traffic Control dropped dead in the middle of his shift. The day after that, a Culler in Necropolis slumped headfirst into her bowl of breakfast cereal. By the end of the week, every team in Croak had witnessed at least one Elixir murder firsthand during their shifts. And morale was at an all-time low.

  Everything had changed. The citizens of Croak were shuffling through their lives like soulless wraiths. Their nerves were fried from constantly flinching at the smallest rustle, cowering each time a cloud passed in front of the sun, fearing sudden death at every turn. There had not been any more attacks on Croak, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time. And since the source of the stolen Elixir was still unknown, Corpp’s had been closed until further notice, leaving the populace with no way to ease the crushing dread.

  So Uncle Mort called a meeting one stormy evening to discuss the sightings, address the Grimsphere attacks, and allow the populace to vent. Lex and Driggs agreed to meet Ferbus and Elysia after work and head over together.

  Lex stood in the office, examining the vault door. “You know,” she said to Ferbus, “I’ve been thinking.”

  “Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

  Not in the mood for his antics, Lex grabbed a pair of scissors and brandished them in his face. “I really suggest you rid your workspace of sharp objects, Carrot Top. We wouldn’t want any unfortunate castrations, now would we?”

  “Driggs!” Ferbus yelled into the spidery Lair, where Driggs had wandered to get away from their constant squabbling. “Your partner is threatening to neuter me!”

  “Yeah, she does that,” Driggs said from within.

  “You know, intimidating people with knifelike implements isn’t really the best way to clear your name,” Ferbus said as Lex lowered the scissors.

  “Clear my what now?”

  He leaned in. “I’ve heard what the Seniors are saying. They think you’re connected to these murders.”

  Lex gaped at him. “What? Why me?”

  “Think about it. None of this even started until you showed up, and now you’re terrorizing poor innocent townsfolk with pointy weapons.” He shrugged and went back to his wizard battle. “Just doesn’t look that great, is all.”

  “Well, neither does your face.”

  Now troubled, she hopped off the desk and let herself in through the vault to the Afterlife, where Elysia stood over a pile of wood, plastic, and Wright brothers.

  “Clean that up,” Elysia scolded them as she returned to her desk. “They think they can make anything fly,” she told Lex. “A table, a microwave, a subway car. It doesn’t matter. If it doesn’t have wings, it’s an experiment waiting to happen.”

  Lex barely heard her. She looked back at the vault door and scowled.

  “What’s wrong?” Elysia asked, concerned. “Is it the fact that the very foundation of our world is crumbling all around us and we’re barreling forth into a hellish vision of uncertainty and terror the likes of which have never been seen?”

  “Sounds wonderful to me,” Edgar said, drifting by.

  Lex turned to Elysia. “Did you know that people think I’m connected to all this?”

  Elysia’s eyes fluttered guiltily. “Um . . . yes. I’ve heard some talk. But it’s probably only because you’re new.” A sad look passed
over her face. “No one wants to believe that someone we’ve known and loved for years could do something like this.”

  Lex scowled. “Well, they can all suck it once I go home and it keeps happening.”

  But the thought of leaving made her feel even worse. The summer was nearing a close, and she still hadn’t been able to think of a way to stay in Croak. Meanwhile, Cordy had redoubled her emailing efforts, and though this time around Lex had actually replied to a few of them, she always made sure to conveniently leave out the part about a crazed murderer on the loose.

  Elysia frowned. “You still think your parents won’t let you stay?”

  “You don’t know my parents. If I don’t go back of my own volition, I bet you anything they’ll drive up here themselves and snatch me right out of the ether.”

  “Maybe home will be better. It’s gotta be cheerier than it is here,” Elysia said gloomily, watching the newest group of dazed-looking souls entering through the tunnel. “Even those guys are better off. Ignorance is bliss, right?”

  Lex froze. “Wait a minute,” she said, keeping her eyes on the distraught newcomers. “Why can’t the souls remember their deaths?”

  “The tunnel. It automatically represses that specific memory until they’re able to deal with it.”

  “So it’s not because of the Elixir in the fluff here?”

  “Nope. Elixir doesn’t cause amnesia. If it did, we wouldn’t have to milk the spiders.”

  “Spiders . . .” Lex jumped to her feet and took Elysia’s shoulders. “Elysia, listen to me. Think back to the beginning of the summer, before I got here. Can you remember anyone coming in here and removing Elixir?”

  Elysia smiled confusedly. “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, that’s all kinds of illegal. I’d scream my head off. That’s the whole point of my job, other than wrangling the presidents.”

  A loud shout sounded from inside the office. Lex paused, then turned back to Elysia.

  “Think hard,” she continued, breathing heavily. “Are there any days that you can’t remember? Like, maybe you lost track of a few hours?”

  “No.”

  “Yes,” Edgar said.

  Both girls turned to him. “What?”

  “One day, someone came in here and took a bunch of these silly clouds,” he said. “You did scream your head off, but then you sat at your desk for a while without saying anything. I remember specifically because it was the day Eleanor Roosevelt threw a teapot at me—”

  “What are you talking about, Edgar?” Elysia turned to Lex. “I do not remember that.”

  “Lex!” Driggs shouted from the other room. He sounded panicked.

  Lex lunged for the vault door, then turned back to Elysia. “Ask around. Find out if anyone in here saw who it was.” She flew through the door and into the office, where Driggs stood holding a broken test tube, an equally stunned look upon his face.

  “Amnesia,” they said at the same time.

  “That’s why Kloo and Ayjay couldn’t remember anything!” Lex said.

  “I thought Kilda was just being Kilda,” Driggs said. “But she was right, it’s practically all gone. The murderer must have taken it from the Lair—”

  “Then stolen Elixir from the Afterlife—”

  “Then drugged Ferbus and Elysia to make them forget the whole thing!”

  Ferbus let out a shout. “I’ve never been drugged!”

  “You wouldn’t remember if you have,” Lex shot back. “That’s the point!”

  “But—but—”

  Lex and Driggs stared at each other for a moment more, then tore down the stairs (prompting a “What the hell?” from Norwood), out of the Bank, and into the pounding rain.

  They burst through the door of the library just as the meeting was starting. Uncle Mort and everyone else in the room turned to look at them.

  “Took Amnesia—stole Elixir—Afterlife—” they wheezed.

  “Slow down,” said Uncle Mort. “What happened?”

  Norwood and Heloise appeared at the door behind them, followed by Ferbus and Elysia. Driggs took a deep breath and began to describe what they had figured out, all to a chorus of surprised rumblings from the townspeople.

  “I asked around in the Afterlife,” a sopping wet Elysia piped up. “But only a couple of souls saw it happen, and they couldn’t see who was under the hoodie.”

  “Okay,” said Uncle Mort. “Thanks, Elysia.”

  “You’re thanking her?” Norwood burst in. He and Heloise were so furious, steam was nearly rising from their wet heads. “These kids are to blame for the whole thing!”

  “How could you let this happen, you little ingrates?” Heloise spat at the visibly shaken pair of Ferbus and Elysia. “You have one job to do!”

  “Heloise,” Uncle Mort interrupted. “They haven’t been here as long, so their immunity against Amnesia isn’t as strong as that of the Seniors. That’s probably why they were targeted. It’s not their fault.”

  “Oh, bullshit.” Norwood sneered. “Don’t you get it, Mort? This is what comes of hiring all these useless amateurs! I’ve been saying it for years, and now look at the mess they’ve gotten us into!”

  “Can it, you pompous gasbag!” Pandora screeched. “I don’t see anyone else trying to figure out what’s going on here. These kids are the only ones out of all of you who give a damn!”

  “But they saw the deaths from the start and didn’t tell anyone!” a new voice shouted.

  All eyes flocked to Zara, who had jumped to her feet.

  “Sorry guys,” she said, looking at Lex and Driggs, “but enough is enough.” She pointed at them and addressed the crowd. “Those two were the first, then the other Juniors joined in. You should have found out about this weeks ago, but they wanted to figure everything out by themselves. And Mort helped them, he’s been scheming along with them the whole time. And you know what else he’s not telling you? The victims aren’t random at all—they’re being specifically targeted because they’re criminals!”

  Driggs cursed under his breath. “You told her?”

  Lex gave him a guilty look.

  “Sofi!” Heloise’s shrill voice rang out. “Have you been helping them?”

  Sofi, quivering in her seat, could barely speak. “I—I didn’t know—”

  “Oh, of course you didn’t!” Norwood spat. “None of these brats know a goddamn thing! These two can’t even watch a door,” he said, gesturing at Ferbus and Elysia. He pointed to Kloo and an eye-patched Ayjay. “These two can’t stop sucking each other’s faces long enough to realize they’re being attacked.” He then stuck a finger into Lex’s face and turned to Uncle Mort. “And if you think for one second that this niece of yours is even remotely—”

  “Enough!” Uncle Mort thundered. The room went silent.

  When he spoke again, his voice was calm but firm. “Yes, Lex and Driggs were the first to see the abnormalities. Yes, they were assisted by Sofi and the other Juniors. They came to me—admittedly, later than I would have preferred—and described what they had seen. I allowed them to continue because I thought it was best to contain the situation and involve as few people as possible. I stand by that decision.”

  Norwood swore.

  Uncle Mort ignored him. “As for the victims, Zara’s right—it would seem that the majority of them are criminals. But as you’ve all read in the paper over the past couple of days, Grims are now being targeted as well, which is why it’s more important than ever for us to come together like this. I called this meeting to discuss what everyone’s been seeing, to gather our information together, and to try to make some constructive headway—not to point fingers. We don’t have time for this petty, melodramatic bullshit. So we’re going to continue with the meeting as planned, and if you don’t like it, you’re free to leave.”

  Norwood and Heloise did just that, slamming the door on their way out. Everyone else remained, though a distinct air of unease settled through the room as the discussion b
egan.

  Lex, meanwhile, was so mad at Zara that she could have strangled her with her own stupid silver hair. She scanned the seats and spotted Zara glaring at her—an activity that Driggs also seemed to be enjoying.

  “What?” Lex quietly snapped at him. “What did I do?”

  “I can’t believe you told her.”

  “Oh my God,” she said, rolling her eyes. “This is so high school. I’m gonna go cry into my locker.”

  “Forget it. We’ll talk later.”

  “Good idea. That’ll give me time to consult my cootie catcher.”

  ***

  The meeting continued into the night, and although there were no more outbursts, it was clear that Norwood’s words had struck a chord with the townspeople. Their hostility became so apparent that by the end, Pandora had to sneak the Juniors out the back door so they could slink away to the Crypt in peace. All except for Zara, of course—who happily stayed behind to field any questions the Seniors had for her, the Most Responsible Junior in Croak.

  Lex couldn’t bear to face Uncle Mort, not after betraying his trust like that. So she ducked out of the meeting as soon as it was over, ran straight to her bedroom, and didn’t come out until the next morning. Unfortunately, since Driggs stayed in his own room, pounding at his drums with a renewed ferocity, she ended up all alone with her uncle at the breakfast table, the awkwardness sitting between them like an ugly homemade centerpiece. She eyed him carefully, waiting for him to rip her a new one, but the scolding never came. He didn’t even look mad.

  “Here’s a fun question,” she said, hoping to preemptively distract him. “Why are Norwood and Heloise allowed to treat us like crap?”

  “Because they’d probably firebomb the Bank if they couldn’t,” Uncle Mort said, flipping through the newspaper. “They’re just set in their ways. Never been fans of the Junior program.”

  “Can’t you fire them?”

  “Lex, if everyone with a bad attitude got fired, the postal service would cease to exist,” he said. “Norwood and Heloise are the best at what they do, and have undeniably earned their places here. Eventually, so will you.”

  Lex was indignant. “I’ve already earned my place here!”