The Book of Bad Things

by Dan Poblocki

  No one asked her what it was that had happened. They simply looked at her, giving her time to collect her thoughts, and if she felt the need, to put them into words. Cassidy knew if any of them had pressed her to continue, she wouldn’t have been able to. But on her own terms, she flipped the book open to the first page and showed them what she’d written there.

  Cassidy’s Book of Bad Things, Entry #1: Intruders

  “I WAS EIGHT YEARS OLD,” Cassidy said. “Sometimes my mom, Naomi, worked late, and I had to stay home by myself. Usually, it was fine. I’d do my homework and watch television and fall asleep on the couch until she came home. Then she’d turn out the lights and pull the blanket over me and kiss me goodnight.

  “I wasn’t ever allowed in her bedroom. In fact, she kept the door padlocked. I never thought about why, but now I know. It was where she hid her valuables. I never found out what kind of valuables they were, but I figure if it was worth enough for a mother to lock them away from her own daughter, then maybe I was better off not knowing.”

  Cassidy sighed, remembering. It wasn’t an easy thing to do. And saying the story out loud was even harder. Somehow though, suddenly choosing to reveal this secret to her three friends — who were listening as if their lives depended on it — seemed as important as locating the artifact for which they’d come searching.

  “One night, I heard a noise,” she went on. “It was way too early for my mom to be home. I jumped off the couch and ran to the bathroom just as the apartment door opened. Someone had come in. The only other person with a key was Naomi’s boyfriend, Lou.

  “Lou was never really nice to me. He always looked at me like I knew something, like I had X-ray vision. Like I could see inside his soul. And I guess I could, because I never trusted him, not for a moment.

  “I heard him mumbling as he stumbled through the living room. He went for my mom’s door, but he realized that none of the keys he had would open the padlock. He cursed. All sorts of nasty words. Then he started pounding on the door, then kicking until it just snapped off the hinges and leaned toward the floor. Then he kicked it some more.

  “I didn’t know what to do. I was sure that if he knew I was there, he’d hurt me. I held my breath, listening until he’d made his way into Naomi’s room.

  “I crept out into the living room, as quietly as I could. I could see his shadow against the wall in my mother’s room. He was shouting, Where is it? Where is it?”

  Bring it back to me, Cassidy thought, pausing, hearing the beast’s voice in her head.

  “He knocked over Naomi’s bureau. The floor shook as it fell. I used the noise of his tantrum to mask the sound of my footsteps across the living room. Then, I ran into the hallway outside and knocked on the closest door, praying Lou wouldn’t hear me. After a few seconds, this old man I’d never seen before answered. He had on a worn-out pair of khaki pants and a white tank top and he kind of smelled like … well, this store.

  “I guess I looked like a time bomb about to explode, because he pulled me inside. At the time, I wasn’t thinking how dangerous it was to go into a stranger’s home. All I wanted was to get away from Lou. The old man held his finger up to his lips, as if he understood, as if he’d heard everything, then turned off the light on his desk a few feet away.

  “His name was Levi Stanton. He didn’t live in the building but only rented a small studio to use as an office. He was a writer … a crime novelist … a famous crime novelist, I found out afterward. The space was cheap, and my neighborhood was inspiring to him. But that night, he was the old man who tried to save me.

  “We hid in the dark together, listening as Lou came barreling out of my apartment. He called out my name. He’d remembered that I should have been home. His voice echoed through the hallways. We listened as Lou’s footsteps came calmly down the corridor. This frightened me more than his rage. I held my breath when he stopped in front of us. I could see the shadows of his boots in the space at the bottom of the door. He stood there for a few seconds, then he whispered my name. The old man squeezed my hand and I almost burst into tears. But then Lou just left. He strolled out of the building and was gone.”

  THE ROOF CREAKED as a slight wind picked up outside the store.

  Joey, Hal, and Ping stood before her, the four of them forming a small ring, as if they’d just finished some sort of sacred ritual. Cassidy let her arms fall to her sides, the notebook brushing her hip. She told them how Mr. Stanton called the police, then her mother at work, how there was an investigation, how they tracked down Lou. He was now in jail for several convictions — not only for the break-in, but for other, even scarier crimes.

  “That’s really …” Joey tried to respond. “How did you …” But the words wouldn’t come.

  “Survive?” Cassidy finished for him. She held up the book again. Waggled it a bit. “This.” She walked, waving the group forward to continue their search as she talked. “After that night, I started feeling weird when I was at school. And when I came home, I would get sick. Dizzy. Pukey. Whenever I was able to fall asleep, my dreams were so freaky I thought I was going crazy. This started happening every day. My doctor wanted to give me medicine but Naomi said no, that I needed to stop being silly and just get over it.”

  “That’s horrible,” said Ping.

  Cassidy blinked and rubbed at her nose. She’d never be able to explain her mother to anyone who didn’t know her, so she’d stopped trying a long time ago. “Mr. Stanton checked in on me. Asked me how I was feeling. I told him. One day, he brought me this notebook. He told me to write down what scared me. He said putting it all on paper would help me sort it out in my head.

  “I started with the night Lou broke in. And I haven’t stopped since. For some reason, Mr. Stanton’s advice worked. I guess putting my thoughts, my fears into sentences helps me find … order in the world. Which is kind of cool, because at least where I live, it feels like there’s just so much … What’s the word … Chaos?”

  “This Levi Stanton guy sounds pretty awesome,” said Hal. “If we get through this day, I’m gonna pick up some of his books.”

  If we get through this day … Hal’s statement hung in the stagnant air, reminding them why they had come here and what might be waiting for them outside.

  “Duh!” Ping threw her hands into the air. “Why don’t we just ask the two at the front desk if they can help us?”

  Back at the desk, Ping did the talking. She kept the story simple. “We need something old. Something star-shaped. Something … precious. You have anything like that?”

  The girl at the register looked perplexed, rolling her eyes back into her head as if that’s where she’d recorded all of the store’s data. The boy beside her wiped at his forehead again. He stared intensely out into the aisles, as if he might spot what Ping had asked for.

  “I don’t think so,” said the girl. “I’m sorry. I can take down your phone number. Give you guys a call if something comes in.”

  The boy’s face lit up. He turned to the girl. “But something did come in,” he said. “Just last week.”

  She looked perplexed. “Really? Where is it?”

  The boy reached out and grasped at the tangle of chains around the girl’s neck. She flinched. Then, with a groan, she allowed him to sort through the loops and ornaments. From the bottom of one cord, a charm glistened darkly. The boy managed to separate this necklace from the others, holding it away from the girl’s skin so they could see it clearly.

  A small pendant. A silver circle inside of which gleamed a shining pentacle. Just like in the Gingerwich story. The seal of protection.

  “This what you’re looking for?” the boy asked.

  AFTER THE BOY WHISPERED some soft threats about “telling Mom,” he managed to talk the girl into giving up the pendant and the chain. Hal gave them all his cash for it. Twelve dollars. “A real bargain,” the girl said sarcastically as she slipped the pendant into a slim plastic Baggie. Hal handed it to Cassidy. She folded it into her notebook and stu
ck it deep into her backpack.

  As the group passed through the exit, Cassidy overheard the redheaded siblings arguing, something about the group being the only customers all day and how any sale is a sale and how a sale is the most important thing. Cassidy wasn’t sure she agreed with him, but for now, she was happy that the boy believed it.

  A quick glance around the parking lot — no zombies, thank goodness. The group dashed for the minivan.

  They made it to the college in no time, and Ping managed to sneak the keys back to her mother’s office with a few minutes to spare.

  Mrs. Yu found them sitting in the shadow of one of the quad’s trees. She approached, shaking her head. “I’d think you all might have something better to do with your day than simply lounge around in the shade.”

  “Actually, we did spend some time at the library,” said Ping matter-of-factly. “They’ve got a ton of really interesting books. Right, you guys?” The others nodded emphatically, forcing themselves to smile. They all looked a little crazy.

  “We learned a whole lot,” Joey concluded.

  Minutes later, the group was back at the minivan. Cassidy watched everyone else pile into the vehicle, but she couldn’t bring herself to do the same. Standing on the steamy blacktop of the parking lot, way out here at the college, Cassidy felt like this was the last time she could ever be sure of herself, of her life. She tried to step forward but found she was frozen. Joey peered out the door of the van. He held out his hand to her. Cassidy stared at it, at the creases in his palm, the dirt and grime that had collected there over the course of the day. She thought of the story she’d shared with her friends back at Junkland — her darkest memory. She imagined the collection of bad things that she carried with her everywhere she went, how, over the years, with every entry, the notebook had continued to ease her mind. But the book couldn’t help her now.

  Bad things lived in the world.

  She could continue to write them all down if she made it through this day, but for now, she had to move, to act, whether her brain wanted her to or not.

  “Coming?” Joey asked, wiggling his fingers. His eyes were open, understanding, containing a kindness she hadn’t seen in them for a long time. Cassidy reached out and took his hand.

  DURING THE RIDE BACK to Chase Estates, Mrs. Yu occasionally glanced at them in the rearview mirror. They were all huddled together in the backseat, each lost in his or her own thoughts. Before the last turn, she offered to take them for ice cream. Without speaking, they peered at one another, then shook their heads.

  “What’s going on?” she asked Ping once she’d pulled into her driveway. “You’re not telling me something.” The others wandered around the lawn and waited for Ping to join them. They couldn’t help but listen in. What would happen if Ping just told her mother everything? Cassidy tried to imagine the conversation: We have to go fight some nameless evil thing that lives underneath the old house at the end of the road…. But that was as far as Cassidy’s mind allowed her to go. She knew that Mrs. Yu wouldn’t hear the rest. Either she’d be angry or amused, then eventually, finally dismissive. This was one of the curses of being young: Adults rarely truly hear you, and when they did, they usually asked you why you didn’t speak up sooner.

  “We’re just doing some research about the history of this land. About what was here before these houses or the Chambers farm.”

  Mrs. Yu squinted at Ping. “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  Somehow, this struck Mrs. Yu as a valid answer. “But why is that older boy tagging along? Doesn’t he have friends his own age?”

  Hal’s face went bright red. He turned away, stepping into the street, staring at the driveway at the top of the cul-de-sac. The farther he walked, the faster Cassidy’s heart raced. She tried to motion to Ping to finish up. Somewhere, a clock was ticking. What would happen if Mr. Chase and his mother-in-law stepped out from the bushes? What story would Ping tell Mrs. Yu then?

  “Nope,” Ping answered. “A real charity case. That’s why he’s with us.” She leaned forward quickly and pecked a kiss on her mother’s cheek. “Bye, Mom. See you soon.” When Ping turned to the group, Cassidy saw her wipe away tears.

  “Be back before dark,” Mrs. Yu called out. “Love you!”

  “Love you too,” said Ping over her shoulder.

  She strolled purposefully past Cassidy and Joey into the street. They chased after her, meeting up with Hal, who’d already made it almost halfway through the circle of asphalt.

  “You okay?” Joey asked her.

  “Fine,” Ping said, looking at the ground. “You sure you don’t want to stop by your house? Say good-bye to your mom too?”

  Joey stumbled backward. “Is that what was happening back there?” Ping didn’t answer. “You don’t think we’re coming back?”

  “At the library, we agreed about how far we’d take this,” said Ping. “It’s a risk, but it’s important. Right, Cassidy?”

  Cassidy swallowed and nodded slowly.

  Joey bit at his lip and tugged at the hem of his T-shirt. “Yeah, but … Before, it was all words and promises. Now it’s, like, real.”

  Ping sighed. “It isn’t going to be easy. But we have to try. We have to. The three of us.” Everyone stared at Ping as if she’d just spoken in a language none of them had heard before. “Think about it, Hal. You don’t need to be here. In the library, you didn’t hear the voice. You didn’t see the beast. You broke your own curse when you brought back the mannequin. If you want, you can go home.”

  “And leave you three alone here? After everything we’ve already been through? You’re insane if you think I’m that callous. And I don’t need to say good-bye to my mom. Because I know we’re all coming back.”

  Joey smiled. “Famous last words.”

  Cassidy felt her stomach clench. She imagined Naomi back in the city, clueless to what was happening out here. What was the last thing they’d said to one another before Cassidy had left for the bus station on Monday? Certainly not Love you. Naomi had never been that kind of mother. But then, Cassidy had never been that kind of daughter.

  A breeze snagged her hair, pulling it away from her face, as if to show her the path she would take forward. The opening in the trees at the curb howled voicelessly at them. Ursula’s driveway was darker now than it had been in the bright light of morning. The afternoon only stretched the shadows thin, giving them an emaciated and starving appearance.

  “We’ll never be ready,” Cassidy said. “So let’s just go.”

  THEY MADE THEIR WAY up the driveway more quickly than they had done that morning. Hal and Joey picked up long sharp sticks at the edge of the path and handed one to each of the others, so they’d all have a weapon in case they encountered the house’s sentinels. Their dead neighbors.

  With every step, Cassidy felt a coldness creeping into her mind. She wasn’t sure if it was her body trying to turn off her fear or if the beast was already reaching out to her again. She kept seeing movement in the dark woods, doubtful it was all in her head.

  One thing she knew for sure: The closer they came to the front steps of the old farmhouse, the louder the humming grew. It had started when they were about halfway up the driveway. Deep. Resonant. Bone rattling. Cassidy was certain it would get louder and louder, maybe so loud it hurt.

  The doorway stood open, just as they’d left it earlier. The horrible smell had crept outside. None of them said a word as they climbed the rotting porch stairs. Hal’s mannequin lay in the foyer, disguised by the shadows, looking like a dismembered corpse. They paused for a moment before stepping around it, as if the thing that had attacked Hal the night before might rise up with its faceless head and black-taloned hands. Joey asked Cassidy for his flashlight and turned it on. The ghostly light illuminated the dusky space. Dust swirled around them, like tiny insects inspecting their skin for a good spot to settle down and chomp. The stench of the place was overwhelming — a powerful entity in its own right. Cassidy tried to breathe through h
er mouth, but this didn’t stop her from gagging several times as she crossed the room. She squeezed the straps of her backpack and followed Ping through the dark doorway by the base of the stairs. At the end of the hallway, they found the basement door hanging askew, off its hinges, the padlock lying once more on the floor, smashed bits of the wooden frame scattered around it.

  Despite this sight, Cassidy felt comfort as the notebook shifted against her spine, knowing that the pendant was tucked safely inside its pages. The seal of protection. They only had to get to the heart of the house and then throw it inside.

  Descending the stairs into the concrete pit, Cassidy wondered how Ping could be so sure this plan would work. Yes, the situation was similar to what happened in Gingerwich, but it wasn’t the same. Stopping at the bottom of the steps, the group huddled into the corner of the basement. Cassidy listened to Ping’s worried, uneven breathing, and she understood that none of them could be certain of anything anymore. Especially not here.

  Joey swung the light up so that it lit the other side of the room. In the center of the wall, the black crevice stared back at them, slim like the pupil of a cat’s eye. The light rebounded off the floor, illuminating a few feet inside the space. The earth beyond the jagged opening looked like it had been carved out or melted away. The garbage and detritus that had filled the hole that morning was now scattered across the floor, having been pushed out by the animated corpses that had been hiding inside.

  “Well,” said Joey, his voice shaking, “here we are.”

  “What now?” asked Hal, holding up his stick like a sword.

  Ping stepped forward, scraping her own stick along the floor, as if she were trying to let whatever was inside know that they were coming for it.