Finally, Columbine placed a Ouija board on the table, along with the little three-legged heart-shaped platform known as a planchette. If the spirits could be contacted, the planchette could point to the various letters on the board and spell out their message.
She asked Lucas’s mom if she wished to contact anyone in the afterworld.
Mrs. Mackenzie’s hand flew to her heart. “I suppose, if you think it’s possible, then yes,” she said. “I have someone in mind.”
“I make no promises,” Columbine said. “Gender, please.”
“Male.”
“And is this someone you loved?” Columbine asked.
“More than anyone in the world.”
“Please hold my hand,” Columbine instructed, offering her left hand.
Lucas’s mom jerked to attention as she felt Columbine’s fingers. Lucas stiffened at his mother’s reaction. He realized no one’s fingers could be as cold as Columbine’s.
“Spirit, are you with us?” Columbine asked.
Suddenly the entire table itself rose several inches into the air, then crashed back to the stage floor.
The candle blew out, and the little planchette turned and scooted itself across the board to point to the word Yes.
The audience gasped.
Columbine returned the pointer to the center of the board
“Do you have a message for this lady?”
Again the planchette sought out the word Yes.
The young medium next stared directly at the projection booth.
“Communication by Ouija board is very difficult,” Columbine said pointedly. “I can receive only one word from beyond. Just one. The message, please.”
Lucas wished he had more time. How could he tell his mom what he felt with just one word, or even identify himself? Suddenly too many words vied to be the one:
Love?
Lucas?
Ten?
And then the perfect word occurred to him, and he whispered it to Columbine over their secret wireless channel.
Once again, in the eerie red glow of Eddie’s lighting, the planchette began to move. Slowly and distinctly, it pointed to the letter D. Then it moved again, and slowly and distinctly pointed to the letter I.
The spelling continued until the word had been completed: Disneyland.
Lucas’s mom let go of Columbine’s hand as her own hand flew to her mouth.
Lucas saw at once that his mom had understood. Disneyland! Lucas had talked of little else the last year of his life. His mom would think, who else could have known that? Who else could have sent this message?
She might have asked Columbine what, if anything, she knew of Lucas, but that was when all the pandemonium broke out that would prove to change the course of the evening.
Suddenly policemen were running down the aisles and blowing whistles. From the back of the theater, a shot rang out, followed by a scream.
“He winged me,” one of the policemen shouted.
“Stand back!” another warned. “He shot Mike!”
From the projection booth, Lucas tried to figure out what was going on as the hubbub seemed to have migrated to the balcony. Meanwhile, the police on the ground plugged in searchlights that panned around the theater.
“It’s the Phantom,” one of the policemen yelled. “That Hoffman character!”
As the powerful beams swept the balcony, Lucas could finally see the Sing Sing convict, recognizable immediately from his wanted poster in the Vernon Post Office and dressed for the Halloween evening in what many would rate as the worst possible fashion choice—black and white prison stripes with a black polyethylene ball and chain attached to his ankle. Apparently desperate, the fellow ran to the front row and grabbed a girl by the hair. Unfortunately all he got for his trouble was a wig full of red ringlets. He tossed it like a dead animal over the rail and grabbed again, this time getting a firm hold on the girl’s real hair.
“Ouch!” she said.
By this time, the twin searchlights on the ground floor had converged on the two, and the convict seemed to find it difficult to see. He shielded his eyes with his gun hand. Everyone in the balcony was screaming.
Of the two silhouettes standing in the brilliant beams, the smaller one looked familiar to Lucas.
“Katie!” a voice screamed from the stage. It was his mom’s cry, and he gasped as the name confirmed that it was his sister in the clutches of the gun-toting convict.
Lucas suddenly felt trapped and useless in the tiny projection booth. Everything had gone wrong. The show was in shambles, and his mom and dad and especially Katie were in danger. Furthermore, if he left his booth and revealed himself, he ran the risk of breaking his promise to Professor McDuff and of breaking supernatural law.
“Ouch!” Katie screamed again as the Phantom maintained his grip on her hair.
Enough was enough! Lucas ripped off his headphones, bolted from the projection booth, and ran downstairs. Perhaps, he thought, if they left the house lights off just a little longer…
As he ran down one of the two aisles of the theater, a policeman held up his hand, flat palm out, to signal stop. “Sorry, kid. Go back. We’ve got a situation here.”
Lucas ignored the advice and continued running, leaving the policeman staring at his hand. Somehow Lucas had rushed right through the policeman, as though the man had been made of smoke. There had been no time to negotiate permission.
Now Lucas was far enough into the darkened theater to see the lights trained on the convict and on Katie. And even though she looked different at sixteen than she had at twelve, he knew in an instant that she was his sister.
Lucas jumped up and stood on the armrests of the seat closest to him. Pointing his finger directly at the convict, he shouted, “Let her go! Now!”
Both the police and the theatergoers, apparently surprised by Lucas’s tone of authority, fell silent to witness the interchange. With all the lights aimed at the convict, no one of past or present acquaintance could recognize him in the darkness as Lucas Mackenzie.
“What’s that, kid?” the convict said, squinting. “I’ve got the girl and the gun, so I give the orders.”
“I said, let her go!” Lucas repeated. “And you look ridiculous anyway, in those prison stripes.”
The crowd murmured in agreement.
“It wasn’t my idea,” the convict said. “It was my girlfriend, Angie. She said it would be ironic, no one would suspect. It woulda worked, except that Angie threw me over for a copper on the local police force. This entire date was a setup. She fingered me.”
“Cold,” said Lucas.
“That’s Angie.”
Again the crowd murmured in response to this exchange. They seemed to think it was all part of the evening’s entertainment.
Lucas tried to think of what to do next, but the situation seemed hopeless. The convict and Katie were at least fifteen feet up, too far to reach for a boy who couldn’t fly. And if Lucas were to approach them with the searchlights on them, he would definitely be recognized. He was risking enough standing in the shadows.
“Sorry about your love life,” said Lucas, “but let the girl go. It’s over.”
“Like I said, kid, can’t oblige. I’ve still got the gun and the girl. Looks like we’ve got a game of chicken. Who’s gonna blink?”
Whatever suggests itself, Oliver had once said.
All of a sudden, to a chorus of gasps from the audience, Lucas expanded, mutated, and bristled into an eighteen-foot-tall rooster, more specifically a fighting gamecock known as a Blue Spangled. The bird’s beak was sharp and hawk-like, its eyes alert and angry and staring with menace at the little man with the gun, with whom it was now eye to eye. Its powerful thighs were protected by wings with great strong quills. It spread its huge tail feathers proudly, and it stood rock steady on strong, clawed feet.
Everyone in the theater was screaming, and the police began to train their guns on the giant bir
d. The convict waved his gun around, still holding onto Katie’s hair.
“Go away,” he shouted. “Shoo!”
Lucas, surprised to find himself eye to eye with the convict and his sister, saw that Katie was terrified too. He didn’t want her to be. “Katie!” he shouted. “It’s okay. It’s me, Lucas.”
Although that is what Lucas said, his words came out as a monstrous “SQUAWK!” so loud that the sound shook the balcony, hard enough to knock a fire extinguisher off the wall.
But even eighteen-foot-tall gamecocks have a way of making themselves comprehensible, and Katie’s face conveyed that she understood.
“Lucas?” she said, but he could only see her mouth move. All the screaming rendered the word inaudible.
Lucas winked a huge black eye at her.
A tear dripped down Katie’s cheek, even though she was smiling.
“Gosh, Katie,” one of the witches said, ignoring the gunman. “It’s like that giant chicken knows you.”
“That’s no giant chicken,” she said. “That’s my brother!”
The convict, seemingly frustrated that his hostage wasn’t even paying attention to him, fired two shots at the ceiling, let go of Katie’s hair, and turned to run.
At last Lucas could act without endangering his sister. His beak shot out like a snake striking. He grabbed the fellow by the collar and hoisted him into the air, where he shook him in anger. The plastic ball and chain swung wildly.
The great bird turned and dropped the felon into the aisle that contained the most policemen. They closed in on him quickly with nightsticks and handcuffs, but kept a wary eye on the bird. Although the police seemed to sense that Lucas the Giant Killer Fowl was somehow on their side, they couldn’t ignore a possible menace to every life in Alexandria, or maybe even the planet.
Fortunately for Lucas, the world was saved and he was extricated from his predicament when someone threw the switch that cut all power to the theater. The great searchlight beams vanished, and darkness reigned. Later, Lucas would thank Eddie profusely for this timely act of mercy.
It would go down as the most frightening ghost show ever. Outside, in the aftermath, gathered in the chill mist off the river, no one wanted to leave. Hundreds stood around in Halloween costumes telling the story over and over. Television news teams from KFVS Channel 12 in Cape Girardeau and WPSD Channel 6 in Paducah were on the scene interviewing bystanders. The police wrapped yellow tape around the entire theater as well as anything else that was handy.
For Lucas, there was one more score to settle. Having reverted to his childlike, human proportions, he sought the man in the white lab coat who looked like Albert Einstein. He found him in the lobby’s telephone booth. During the fracas of the Giant Chicken vs. the Phantom, Lucas had noticed the man filming him with a portable movie camera slung over one shoulder. He had a strong suspicion of who he was: the infamous Bradbury College kidnapper, Mr. Ghost Hunter himself, Dr. Harlan H. Hull, up to his old tricks.
Lucas stood close enough to the phone booth to see his own reflection in the glass, the dark eyes and pale skin of a boy ghost. The man in the booth finally saw him too, froze, turned somewhat pale himself, and placed the receiver back on its hook.
Dr. Hull emerged from the booth. The camera hung from straps around his neck along with a variety of smaller instruments.
“I suppose you think you’re clever, young man,” said Dr. Hull. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? Well, I’ve already dropped my film into the trash. This giant chicken sighting can only be explained as some sort of parade balloon, part of some elaborate hoax dreamed up by your Professor McDuff to make me look foolish. No study of ghostly manifestations has ever mentioned oversized fowl, and I am not about to start a trend. You folks made a fool of me in my laboratory in front of a donor, you made a fool of me in Quincy in front of Nachman the Incredible, and you aren’t going to make a fool of me again. You may not be ghosts, as I once believed, but you’re up to no good. I feel it in my bones.”
Lucas didn’t say a word, just tipped his head to one side. And what next? his nod suggested.
“I’ve just called my office,” said Dr. Hull. “I’ve just booked a flight to Israel. I’ve heard stories of a twelve-year-old named Uri who can bend cutlery without touching it. A boy who can bend spoons with his mind is worth investigating. I leave first thing in the morning.”
And with that, Lucas vanished. He didn’t exactly become transparent, invisible, but he had over the past hour mastered the knack of blending in, of not being noticed, whether by wrapping himself in shadows as he stood on the arms of a theater seat or by disguising himself in the features and plumage of a large bird. Whatever the occasion demanded. It therefore followed that Lucas could blend in with the crowd outside the theater, close enough to invisibly eavesdrop on his family.
The Mackenzie family sat on a bench outside, looking dreamlike in the streetlamp glow that filtered through the mist, and it took all of Lucas’s resolve to not emerge from his cloak of deception and hug them, despite all the rules against such a cold embrace. His dad looked so handsome with his Frankenstein mask off, his mom looked dazzling with her lightning bolt hair, and Katie was growing into a great beauty. The boys in her high school had better watch out.
“I don’t know what to say to the police,” said Katie. “That chicken looked soooo familiar. There was a big chicken, right?”
“That Ouija board,” Mrs. Mackenzie said. “It spelled out ‘Disneyland.’ Just before the police burst in, and the shooting started. What do you think it meant?”
“We’ve never gone to Disneyland, and Lucas always wanted that,” Mr. Mackenzie said. “We should go, after all. I can easily schedule two weeks’ vacation next summer.”
“We would have to get someone to stay with Katie,” Mrs. Mackenzie said.
“Are you guys kidding?” Katie said. “You aren’t going to Disneyland without me!”
“I’m sorry, honey,” her mom said. “We didn’t think you wanted to, you know, hang out with us, you being a teenager and all.”
“Forget all that!” Katie chided. “We’re a family.”
“I’ve always loved California,” Mr. Mackenzie said. “Who knows? We might want to visit Disneyland every year. What would Lucas think of that, if he knew?”
“That girl who performed the séance, she was pretty,” Mrs. Mackenzie said. “Very pretty, even though her fingers were like ice. Wherever Lucas is, I hope he knows someone like that. I think he would have liked her.”
Columbine!
Lucas rushed back inside the theater but found only Oliver and Yorick milling about an empty third row. He sank into a seat and dropped his head into his hands. He suddenly felt stupid for having made such a spectacle of himself.
“She won’t want to see me,” he said. “Why would she? A chicken? A giant chicken? What did my family think of me? What did she think of me? A giant gorilla would have worked. Everyone loves King Kong. Or that really cool thing the Professor turned into. Some sort of dragon that could fly and kill vampires. Why didn’t I think of turning into something else?”
“True, it was not the most romantic of creatures,” said Oliver.
“Perhaps if you had been a French chicken?” said Yorick. “Or if you had added a little mustache?”
“You’re a boy of mysterious knowledge,” said Oliver. “How did you even know what a gamecock looked like?”
“I read a book about them,” Lucas said. “In a library in Ohio. The year we played the Highland in Akron. Rooster fights must have been big in Ohio. They had pictures.”
“If it’s any consolation,” Oliver said, “I am over my fear of aliens from outer space. From now on I’ll be watching out for oversized farm animals.”
Columbine herself suddenly appeared. She had changed from her red evening gown into a sweatshirt and long skinny blue jeans. The turban was off and she wore her dark hair in a modern ponytail. Lucas looked up in amazement.
<
br /> “Wow, Lucas, you were so brave tonight,” she said. “And clever. I didn’t see that coming at all. It’s hard for me to see detailed futures of anyone I’m really close to. You saved the day.”
And she leaned over and wrapped her long arms around Lucas’s neck, placed her face so close to his that their lips might touch, and kissed him squarely on the mouth.
“I have to go over some stuff with the Professor,” she said. “See you later?”
“Woo hoo,” said Yorick as the girl departed. “From Chicken Man to Lover Boy in one night.”
Lucas stood and tried not to faint. He felt woozy.
“It must be a shock,” Oliver said, “to master walking through solid objects, transmogrification, and levitation all in the same evening. Not to mention taking up kissing.”
“Walking through objects? Oh, that policeman. That happened kind of fast. More like running through solid objects. And I’ve still no idea how I turned into a big chicken, and hope I never do it again. What if you would just wake up like that? And I can’t levitate. Where did you get that idea?”
“Then I suggest you have gotten taller since that kiss,” Oliver noted. “Take a look.”
Lucas looked down and noticed that he was standing four inches off the floor.
“Oops, sorry,” he said sheepishly as he descended to the floor. His trio of new powers—four, if kissing counted!—was going to take some getting used to.
The Gilbert girls came over, looking darling to Lucas in matching party dresses. The festivities at the local cemetery would begin in an hour.
“Nice work tonight, Lucas,” said Alexandra.
“We’d kiss you too, but you’re spoken for,” said Belinda.
“Gosh, Lucas,” said Clarice. “You’re the psychic’s boyfriend.”
“Don’t you guys think my family looked great?” Lucas boasted, eager to change the subject. “Mom looked so cool as Frankenstein’s girlfriend. And Katie wasn’t afraid of that guy at all. It’s a shame you can’t meet them.”
“I think they got to know us too well, all things considered,” said Oliver.
Lucas Mackenzie and the London Midnight Ghost Show Page 14
