by Tim Greaton
father was gone, too?
Tears crept down his cheek.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he heard rustling sounds coming from his father’s bedroom. Glass cracked and several loud thumps suggested things were being thrown against a wall. Zachary got up and grabbed the kitchen door handle. He was fully prepared to bolt out into the hall and start screaming at the top of his lungs. Only his uncle’s warning to keep things secret kept him from doing it. He heard more thumps and more breaking glass. He flashed his light on the motionless alligator.
Some bodyguard you are.
Zachary slowly slid the chain off the door and gently turned the lock, but before he could turn the knob, the alligator charged into the kitchen and forced him away from the door. Stumbling backwards, Zachary slipped and fell on the slime. His flashlight struck the floor and went dark before it rolled away toward the cabinets. Fearing his chances for survival were nil, Zachary scrambled through on three limbs into the living room. Along the way, he thought he might have cut his palm on a piece of glass and his broken arm had come loose from its sling and now throbbed like an open wound. When he reached his father’s recliner, knowing there was nowhere else to run, he crouched behind it and drew his knees up to his chest. Even if he had wanted to, there was no way to control the tremors that wracked his body. He could hear someone or something ransacking his father’s bedroom, and the alligator seemed hell-bent on making sure he couldn’t escape to safety.
Some bodyguard!
Suddenly, light flooded the entire apartment. Zachary squinted. The breakers were back on, and the wash of light made the apartment look as though a wrecking crew had gone through and destroyed everything. Silverware, broken dishes and plastic cups and bowls were strewn across the floor, broken knick knacks and pictures littered every surface. And to make matters worse, blood and bat guts were splattered not just across the floor but also against the walls and furniture. If there were such things as vampires (and Zachary truly hoped there weren’t) this was what he imagined would be left after one of their parties. The thought would probably have made him shudder, but it was hard to tell since he’d been doing that for the last few minutes anyway.
Just then, he heard the bedroom door burst open.
Zachary surged to his feet. Heavy footsteps were coming down the hall. Terrified, he scanned the living room for any kind of a weapon but saw only shards of glass and pottery from the broken windows and two ruined lamps. He considered darting into the kitchen to grab a knife out of the drawer but feared the alligator would take a bite out of him if he tried. He was just getting ready to pick up the largest fragment of glass below the windows when a deep voice called out.
“What are you doing, Sport?”
Relief washed over Zachary as he turned to see his uncle’s broad shoulders silhouetted in the light from the kitchen. Wearing one of his impeccable dark suits and a flat cap like you might see on a golf course, he looked completely out of place in the shambles of their apartment.
“You got rid of whoever was at the door, I see,” his uncle said.
The tension melting out of him, Zachary found it hard to stand. He wobbled toward the couch and used his good hand to hold himself upright. He wondered how his uncle had gotten in without coming through the door or using the fire escape, but he was too woozy to ask.
“Take it easy, Partner. Everything’s going to be alright.” His uncle turned and pulled one of the few remaining cups out of the cupboard, filled it with water, and brought it over to Zachary who had already settled onto the gore-covered arm of the couch. He took a sip.
“I told Charlie that Dad might have Ebola. Kind of stupid, huh?”
“That is a nasty one,” his uncle said, making a face. “Melting flesh, blood coming out of your eyes and ears. Sounds like good thinking to me.”
“But what happens if city inspectors come to see about the disease?” Zachary asked.
“Won’t matter,” his uncle said. “We’ll be long gone by then.”
“Gone?”
“I’m getting you out of here tonight,” Uncle Ned said.
“What about Dad?” Zachary asked, following his uncle into the kitchen.
“Believe me, if your father’s as angry as I think he is, he’s not the one you should be worried about. Trust me when I say, your father can take care of himself.”
Zachary remembered both the chunk his father had busted out of the table and the bright blasts of blue light from his wand. He hoped his uncle was right.
“He’s probably tracking Krage’s minions right now, and it’s about time if you ask me.” Uncle Ned turned and knelt beside the lower kitchen cabinets where he immediately began tossing pots and pans out into the middle of the kitchen floor.
“Who is Krage?” Zachary asked. “Dad and Doctor Gefarg both mentioned him.”
His uncle stopped pouring through the contents of the cabinet long enough to turn and look at him. He had a neatly cropped beard and mustache and, though much of it was hidden by his hat, Zachary knew he had a full head of dark hair. Gold chains dangled from his uncle’s muscular neck, and a large golden tiger pendant draped across the open collar of his white dress shirt.
“Krage is someone you never want to meet,” his uncle said. His voice grew cold. “Your father mentioned that something happened at school, but why did you have to see Gefarg?”
“I got into a fight and broke it.” Zachary held up his casted arm. “Dad said he was the only one who could fix it”
“That blue-skinned tub-of-lard shouldn’t be trusted to fix a splinter,” his uncle growled. “Your father never should have taken you there.”
“You think my doctor had something to do with the bats?” Zachary asked, ignoring the blue-skinned description he didn’t understand.
Uncle Ned got to his feet. His dark jacket couldn’t hide his muscular frame. Though only a few inches taller than Zachary, he had an enormous chest and thick limbs. He rubbed his mustache. Gold rings adorned most of his powerful-looking fingers.
“No, Gefarg didn’t do this,” he said, “but you can bet he’s the one that told Krage where to find you and your father.”
“Who’s Krage and what does he want with us?” Zachary asked.
“Buddy,” his uncle said, “I know your father kept a lot of things from you, and I definitely think it’s time for you to know more, but right now we have to get you out of here. So go get packed. You have ten minutes.”
“It’s not enough time.”
Uncle Ned cocked his head and stared at him. “Not as long as you’re standing there. Get busy. Now that Krage knows about this place, it’s no longer safe.”
“Where will we go?” Zachary asked.
“New Hampshire,” Uncle Ned said.
Zachary shook his head at the realization of what he meant.
“No. I can’t.”
“It’s the only choice,” Uncle Ned said. “And Krage will never think to look there.”
“I can’t live with Madame Kloochie,” Zachary said. “She’s crazy. You know how weird she is.”
Uncle Ned approached Zachary and put a thick hand on his shoulder. “Your dad’s gone, sport, and I have to find him. We don’t have a lot of choices here.”
“I could go with you.”
Uncle Ned shook his head. “No you can’t. You have no idea how dangerous Krage can be. He’s killed more members of our family than you’ll ever know about.”
“I’m not going to stay with Madame Kloochie,” Zachary said. “I can’t.” He had never before spoken back to his uncle like that, but he didn’t feel as though he had any choice.
Uncle Ned’s eyes narrowed and his hand leapt from Zachary’s shoulder to his left ear. He tugged just enough to let Zachary know how painful it could be.
“I’m happy to see you’re growing up and getting more independent,” he said, “but this isn’t up for discussion.” He gave one last painful tug for emphasis and smiled. “Am I clear?”
Zachary nodded.
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Ear tugging from anyone else would have been mortifying, but his uncle was rough by nature. He didn’t mean to be abusive, only to get his point across. That didn’t make the idea of spending time with Madame Kloochie any more appealing, but Zachary could see there was no point in arguing. Realizing the kitchen had grown dim, Zachary glanced back into the living room to find the window frame had turned black. But there wasn’t even glass there.
“How do you do that?” Zachary asked his uncle. “I know it’s magic, but you didn’t use a wand or anything.”
His uncle smiled, grabbed him in an affectionate but brutal bear hug and squeezed until Zachary could feel his ribs creak. “Welcome to the family secret, Sport. Maybe sometime I’ll teach you a few of the tricks I’ve picked up.”
Zachary couldn’t remember his uncle ever using his real name. He always called him sport, or partner, or buddy, but never Zachary. Come to think of it, he never seemed to use his father’s real name, either. Was there a reason for that?
His uncle released him and said, “Now go get packed and carry everything down to the lobby.”
“I can’t.” Zachary held up his casted arm. “Broken, remember.”
His uncle studied the cast for a moment and winked.
“Let’s see what we can do.” He went out the apartment door and in less than five minutes returned with a two-wheeled dolly in tow. “Don’t take too much,” he said. “Making room in Kloochie’s mess won’t be easy.”
“You’re not going to help me?” Zachary asked incredulously.
“Look, Partner,” his uncle said, “your arm’s broken, not missing. Now get busy. I have some things to find before we blow this clambake.” He delved back into the cabinet below the sink and began tossing things onto the floor again.
Frustrated but helpless to do anything about it, Zachary spent the next half hour packing his clothing into two suitcases his mother had bought for their Disneyland trip three years earlier. All the while, he could hear the sounds of cabinets and closet doors opening and closing all over the apartment. Items clattered and thumped as his uncle searched for who knew what. At one point, he heard glass shatter and could smell the strong tang of soy sauce. He would have gone out to help clean up the mess, but he still had several drawers and an entire closet of his own to pack. Besides, he wasn’t in any hurry to get to Madame Kloochie’s.
As he worked, questions kept nagging at him. Where had his father gone, and how had he gotten out of the apartment? For that matter, how had his uncle gotten into the apartment? And, maybe most important of all, who was the mysterious Krage, and what had gotten him so mad at Zachary’s family? Surely, magic must have been involved, but he didn’t know enough about magic or his own family to even guess at the answers. Once he finished packing his clothes, Uncle Ned appeared with a large empty box.
“That won’t even fit half my plants,” Zachary said.
“We’ve already taken too long,” his uncle responded. “You’ll have to leave them.”
“No one’s killing my plants. They go or I stay.” The strength of his response surprised Zachary, but he was serious. His uncle could pull his ears all he wanted, but he wasn’t leaving a single plant behind. They needed him.
Uncle Ned shrugged.
“It’s your arm. There are a couple more boxes in your father’s closet.”
Zachary ran a hand through his green hair. The fight, Doctor Gefarg’s clinic, worms, bats, his father missing—it was all starting to catch up with him. His body trembled. Zachary didn’t know how much more he could take. He took several shallow breaths and tried to bury his fear for his father. He mentally repeated that everything was going to be alright, but he couldn’t make himself believe it. The truth was, his father was in terrible danger and instead of allowing him to help, his uncle was dragging him off to a crazy woman’s house. Barely able to contain his frustration, Zachary packed his video game system, sports gear, and action figures in the large box. That left only his plants to worry about. Like a small jungle, his windows and shelves were filled with leaves and flowers of all types. One way or another, they were all going with him.
“Almost done?” his uncle asked, stopping by his doorway.
“Just my plants left,” Zachary said. “Where do you think my dad went?”
“I don’t know,” Uncle Ned said, “but I intend to find him.”
Zachary’s stomach clenched.
“I should go with you.”
His uncle’s forehead creased into lines similar to those of his father. The big man shook his head. “I told you, it’s not safe. The worms, the bats, they’re just the beginning. Now that Krage knows about you, he won’t stop until he either kidnaps or kills you. Somehow, I have to find your father before he does, then together we’ll eliminate the threat.”
“But I could help,” Zachary pleaded.
His uncle shook his head again.
“I’m not even sure your father and I can figure this out. The best thing is for you to get safely hidden.”
“I shouldn’t get left behind again. It’s not fair!”
His uncle crossed to the plant-filled window. He pulled one of the leafy pots away and stared at the glass panes that had, of course, turned solid black.
“We don’t have a choice, Zachary.” He turned. “YOU don’t have a choice!”
Zachary shook his head. He couldn’t go along with this. He couldn’t lose his father, too. Losing his mother had been bad enough, but this—
No. Never!
“Please. I can help,” Zachary pleaded. “I’m not like my father was. I’m not….” Zachary’s words trailed off. He stared at the floor.
“What?” his uncle said. “Go ahead and say it. Say it. You think your father is a coward.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Zachary sagged onto the edge of his bed. He had already figured out that his father had only been acting like a coward to protect him.
“Then what?” his uncle asked.
Staring into his uncle’s eyes, Zachary said, “I don’t want to abandon him.”
“Like your father abandoned your mother, you mean?”
Zachary fought the tears. It had been two years since he had last seen her, but not a day went by that he didn’t imagine her singing in the kitchen or dancing around the living room.
“Why didn’t Dad stop her?” Zachary asked.
“He wasn’t even home when she left,” his uncle said. “You know that.”
“But he had to know,” Zachary insisted. “He must have known something was wrong.”
Still staring at the black windowpane as though he could see through it, his uncle nodded.
“You may be right, sport. Maybe he should have seen it coming. Maybe he should have known something was wrong.” He faced back into the room. “But he didn’t. And nothing you or he can do will change that. Right now we have to make sure you’re safe so I can find your father.”
Tears streaked Zachary’s cheeks.
“There must be someplace else I can go,” Zachary said. “We only went her house once, but she’s crazy and filthy.”
“Madame Kloochie isn’t crazy,” his uncle said. His eyes darted sideways. “Not that crazy, anyway.”
Zachary noticed he didn’t say anything about the filthy part.
“I’d rather be killed by bats!” Zachary exclaimed. And he meant it. How could he spend even one day in Madame Kloochie’s smelly pigsty? His family’s one visit when he was about six years old had been so traumatizing he still remembered it. Those had been several of the most horrifying hours of his life. Even talking to the woman on the phone every few months gave him the heebie-jeebies. “My father would never make me go there.”
His uncle’s beefy hand reached out and gripped his shoulder.
“I don’t like it either, Buddy,” he said. “But this is serious. If given half the chance, Krage will kill you.” He knelt down to look directly into Zachary’s eyes. “I know your father hoped this was behind your family. But
it never was. He just hid from it for a while.”
13) Abandoned
Frustrated, Zachary loaded a couple of his boxes onto the dolly then rolled it though the apartment, down the hall, onto the elevator, and ultimately down into the lobby. By the second trip, he felt certain that his uncle would offer to help. Uncle Ned, however, took little notice as Zachary trundled past the closets and cabinets he was emptying as fast as his gold-ringed fingers could go. Though the muscular man was throwing most of the things he found onto the floor, the good-sized box beside him was slowly filling up. Throughout the ordeal, Ernie the lobby man offered to help a couple of times but Zachary knew his advanced age and cane made it hard for him to do much.
“I’m all right,” Zachary assured the kindly old man.
It took four trips in all to get everything down to the first floor. Pushing the last dolly full of plant boxes up against the lobby wall, he looked out the large front windows. He didn’t see any sign of a rental truck or car parked in front of the building. A soda delivery truck and surprisingly busy middle-of-the-night traffic made it hard to see the other side of the street.
“My uncle said he parked out front, Ernie,” Zachary said. “Do you know where?”
“Right there.” The old man pointed with his cane.
Zachary peered out again but couldn’t see a vehicle other than the soda truck on his side of the road. He gave Ernie a puzzled look.
“Your uncle came in that truck,” the elderly doorman said, chuckling. “The last time it was a limousine, but this time it’s a soda truck.” One of the side panels was open and sidewalk lights illuminated cases of soda reaching from the floor to the ceiling.
“Where am I supposed to put my stuff?” Zachary asked.
“In the truck, Partner,” his uncle said stepping out of the elevator with the box he had been packing. “Where else?” His uncle strolled through the lobby and outside. Through the window, Zachary saw him set his box down and lift an entire stack of soda trays as tall as he was. With apparent ease, he placed the stack on the sidewalk and brushed at his suit sleeves.
Zachary stepped outside. Though it was the middle of the night, the Boston streetlights illuminated everything brightly. His uncle had moved several more stacks of soda to the sidewalk.
“Where’s your stuff?” Uncle Ned asked, putting his box in the nearly cleared storage area.
“Where will you put the soda?” Zachary asked.
“Don’t worry about the pop,” his uncle said. “I’m sure someone will want it. Now hurry it up. I don’t want to be on the road come daylight.”
“You could help this time,” Zachary suggested.
“And you could walk to New Hampshire,” his uncle suggested.
Zachary groaned and went back inside. As he rolled out his belongings, his uncle lifted everything into the compartment. It was only a few minutes before they were done and Zachary was scrambling up into the truck cab. Though clean, the cab interior smelled faintly of burnt toast. He heard his uncle slide the side panel shut before he went around and pulled himself up into the driver’s seat.
“Ready, Sport?”
“I’ll never be ready to stay with her,” Zachary said.
“Don’t blame you there,” his uncle said. He gunned the truck engine and swerved out into traffic. Horns blared and tires screeched from every direction.
“Go pack sand!” Uncle Ned yelled out his open window.
Zachary double-checked his seat belt and gripped the door handle as his uncle darted the big truck in and out of traffic, drove through three red lights and almost hit a group of three teenagers who were crossing the street. One of them yelled something, but Zachary couldn’t make out the words over the sounds of angry horns blaring.
His uncle sure wasn’t making friends.
“How long have you had this job?” Zachary asked when they got out onto the freeway where his uncle’s driving was somewhat less scary. Thank goodness it was the middle of the night. Zachary didn’t want to imagine what the drive would have been like during rush hour or even during the day when there would have been a lot more cars.
“What job?” his uncle asked. He yanked the steering wheel to avoid a car going only the speed limit.
“Jerk!” Uncle Ned hollered.
“How long have you been driving this truck?” Zachary clarified.
Uncle Ned snorted and grinned. “Since about ten minutes before I got to your place.”
“Then how―”
“Picked it up across town,” Uncle Ned interrupted. “Driver thought the motor was on fire. Course, I did toss a grilled cheese sandwich on the manifold while he was in a store. Smoked up a storm there for a few minutes.”
“You stole this truck!” Zachary exclaimed. His eyes darted toward the highway in front of and beside them and into the mirror to see if any police were following. He’d already been involved in one police chase with his father and wasn’t looking forward to another.
“That other fella didn’t want it with all the smoke and whatnot,” Uncle Ned said, “so it was available. Now stop asking so many questions. I have to concentrate. These Boston drivers are crazy.”
Zachary slumped into his seat and started to think it was a good thing his family knew how to use magic, otherwise they would all have gone to jail. Even if his uncle managed to not get him killed in a car accident or arrested for truck theft, he still had Madame Kloochie’s disgusting home to look forward to. He could still remember wading through waist-high trash to get across her living room and then having to clean off a seat just to sit down. He also remembered how mean she had been whenever his mother made him say “hi” on the phone. Madame Kloochie would usually return his greeting with some rude comment like “Hope you’re not growing up dumb.” or “Better not be a meathead!”
No, Zachary was definitely not looking forward to spending time with her.
Two hours later, when they finally drove down Madame Kloochie’s dead end street, it was pitch dark and Zachary still felt chills from his uncle’s many near-miss accidents. Gears ground together and the big truck jerked several times as it came to an abrupt stop halfway down the hill in front of Madame Kloochie’s house, which was a two-story building dimly lit by a single street lamp. Though too dark to read, a sign hung over one of the two front doors. Zachary vaguely remembered that she lived upstairs from some kind of a store.
“Move it, Partner,” Uncle Ned said. “I need to get back to Boston while your dad’s trail is still hot.”
Zachary worried that the police would be looking for the soda truck by now, and the way his uncle had been driving it was a miracle they hadn’t found it already. “Maybe you shouldn’t drive the truck back there.”
“You’ve got a lot to learn, Sport,” his uncle said. “There are better ways to travel than cars and trucks.” He patted the steering wheel. “I’ll leave this little gem over the border in Maine. The soda company will find it sooner or later.”
“So how will you get to Boston?” Zachary asked.
“I’ve got a couple of other stops to make first, and it’s probably best you don’t know the various ways we Pills travel just yet,” his uncle said.
“I have a right to know!” Zachary said. “My dad’s been keeping secrets from me my whole life.”
Uncle Ned reached over and squeezed his shoulder. “Sport, I would have told you a lot more over the years, but your dad thought it was safer to keep our family history quiet. Who knows, maybe he was right.”
“At least tell me where you and Dad grew up?”
Uncle Ned’s expression grew hard and his eyes bored into Zachary’s. “It was a bad place, Buddy. No place anyone wants to talk about. It’s called Pandemone.”
“Where’s that?”
“That’s a little harder to explain,” Uncle Ned said.
“That doesn’t tell me much,” Zachary said.
“But that’s all you’re getting,” his uncle said. “I’ve got to get moving.”
They both got out. Uncle Ned came around to the passenger side, opened the storage panel, and started piling things onto the dark sidewalk. After stacking Zachary’s suitcases and boxes, he pulled out the box he had packed.
“These are your father’s things,” he said. “Find a safe place to keep them…and leave them alone.”
Zachary nodded.
“I’m not kidding, Sport. The stuff in this box could get you in a lot of trouble. That’s why I couldn’t leave it in the apartment.”
“I could use some help this time,” Zachary said motioning toward the second floor of Madame Kloochie’s house. “It’s not like there’s an elevator.”
“There are a lot of things I don’t do,” Uncle Ned said, “and visiting that woman is one of them.” Without further discussion, he placed the box filled with his father’s items on the sidewalk and pulled the truck panel closed.
“At least help me unhook that.” Zachary pointed to the metal dolly he had used to bring things down from his apartment.
His uncle shook his head.
“I can’t use the dolly?”
“Nope,” Uncle Ned said. “I have to go and it belongs with the truck. Leaving it would be stealing.”
“What do you call taking the whole truck?”
His uncle shrugged. “Borrowing. They’ll get it back.”
“You also left stacks of full cases of soda in front of our apartment building in Boston.”
“That’s what I like about you.” Uncle Ned ran fingers his fingers through Zachary’s green hair and grinned. Then, he walked around the truck and climbed inside. Before starting the noisy engine, he said, “I’ll call you in a day or two, just to make sure you got settled in.”
Still fuming, Zachary watched the truck back into a driveway across the street. His uncle’s hand, filled with sparkling gold rings, waved before the truck drove back up the street and disappeared around the corner.
14) An Unwelcome Guest
Dejected, Zachary stared up at the second floor windows of Madame Kloochie’s house. He could see faint lights flashing as though a TV was on but no one had yet looked out the window.
“I-I can h-h-help,” someone stuttered.
The voice came from a house diagonally across the street from Madame Kloochie’s. It was too dark to make anyone out, but whoever it was sounded young, maybe Zachary’s age, and male.
“I didn’t think anyone in New Hampshire stayed up this late,” Zachary said.
“Th-They don’t, un-unless their parents are b-both doctors who work d-d-double shifts.”
A gray shadow descended the stairs and started to cross the street. As he got closer, Zachary could see the boy was stick thin. Dressed in a button up shirt, dress slacks, and black shoes—an outfit that Zachary would only have worn to a wedding or funeral—the boy moved closer until the streetlights illuminated his blond hair and protruding cheekbones. He looked kind of sickly but was smiling.
“I could use the help,” Zachary said, holding up his cast. “Not easy to do much with this.”
“N-No problem,” the boy said. “I’m B-B-Bret.”
“I’m Zachary.”
“Y-You’re visiting M-M-Madame Kloochie?” Bret asked. His stutter was painful to hear.
“I’m staying for a while,” he said, pointing at his stuff.
“Sh-She a relative?” Bret asked.
“Sort of,” Zachary said. “A friend of my mom’s.”
“S-Staying long?”
Zachary shrugged. “Not sure. My father was―” He paused, deciding not to talk about any of the unbelievable stuff. “I got into some trouble at school. Maybe I won’t get into as much trouble out here in the country.”
“Th-Then you better w-w-watch out for the k-kid across the street.” Bret pointed at the driveway where his uncle had just turned around. It was between Bret’s house and a long abandoned building across the street. “S-Stemson likes t-t-to fight.”
In the darkness, Zachary couldn’t see any house.
“S-Sits way b-b-behind the trees,” Bret said.
“He can’t be any worse than the kid that broke my arm,” Zachary said. “Billy Timkin’s the jerk of jerks.”
“I don’t know,” Bret said. “Stemson’s p-p-pretty bad.”
“I assume I go in through that door?” Zachary motioned toward the door to the right, the one furthest away from the store sign.
“I-I-I think so,” Bret said, “but I’ve never b-b-been inside.”
Zachary pushed on the door bell and waited. When nothing happened he tried it a second time. Still nothing. Finally, he knocked and put his ear to the door and couldn’t hear anything. He turned the knob and was surprised to see the door push open.
“M-M-Maybe she expects you t-to just go up,” Bret suggested.
Feeling like
