Call of the Wild

by T Paulin

  Khan rolled down his window and waved his arm. “Shoo. Get off the road, little rat.”

  The creature barked, as if to say, I’m a dog, you dummy.

  Khan honked the horn, which finally got the tiny dog moving off the roadway and down a sidewalk.

  Khan started the van rolling again and shuddered dramatically. “This street is so creepy. Let’s get this job done and get the hell out of here.”

  Eli looked around at the manicured lawns, colorful houses, and beautiful gardens. He hadn’t thought it until Khan said the words, but the street was creepy in its perfection, like the ironic setting for a horror movie.

  He spotted what he thought was their destination. One house looked different from the others. Instead of being a bright color, it was painted a drab brown, had a less-than perfect garden, and a patchy-looking lawn that had grown two inches taller than that of its impeccable neighbors.

  The tiny dog who’d been running alongside them on the sidewalk gave them one more look, then ran into the open doorway of the brown house.

  To Eli’s surprise, Khan didn’t stop the van at the brown house with the overgrown lawn. They kept driving for another block, then stopped in front of a cheery yellow house with a perfect front yard.

  They stepped out of the van.

  Eli could hear a woman yelling, her voice coming through an open window in the house, “Not my good china! Bad ghost! Bad! Put that down!” There was a crash that sounded like someone’s good china being thrown on a tile floor.

  Khan didn’t have to check the numbers scrawled on his forearm. They were definitely at the right address.

  Chapter Three

  Eli wanted to charge into the haunted house, but Khan steadied him with a hand against his chest.

  “We ring the doorbell this time,” Khan said. “Like para-professionals.”

  Eli turned his head to listen. The woman wasn’t screaming in terror, just muttering unhappily as she—judging by the sound of it—swept up piles of broken china.

  They rang the doorbell, and a moment later the door opened. Their client was a weary-looking but spry senior citizen, with a well-behaved miniature poodle standing quietly at her side.

  Both the woman and the poodle had tightly-curled, white hair. The dog wore a rhinestone-studded pink collar that matched the woman’s glasses. Eli found it unusual that the dog wasn’t going nuts over the doorbell ringing, like most little dogs he’d known.

  Khan introduced them by their actual names, and said they were from Ghost Hackers. He turned to Eli and explained, “Val booked the job.”

  Eli shook the client’s hand. Her name was Carla Peters, and she was a retired school principal. He barely glanced at her, because he couldn’t take his eyes off the tiny poodle. He’d never seen one quite that small. Weirder still, the poodle couldn’t take its eyes off Eli.

  The poodle tilted its head, as if to say, what are you?

  Suddenly, they were going somewhere. Back outside again. Eli was confused. He’d spaced out and stopped listening, missing crucial information.

  He didn’t want to let on, though, so he followed Khan’s lead and got into the van on the passenger side. They drove away, turned at the end of the block, and returned to the house via the alley.

  Khan muttered about the local homeowners’ association, and the inhumanity of having to park in the back alley, like a lowly tradesperson.

  They got out of the van again, and Eli silently vowed that he would try harder to pay attention to everything.

  He walked right into a kid, knocking them both down. The little boy laughed and jumped right up. He reached his hand down for Eli, grinning madly, as if being accidentally tackled was the best thing that could have happened to him that morning.

  “My name is Joey,” the kid said. “Do you play basketball? There’s a hoop at the end of this block, but I don’t have a ball, so I just throw rocks at the hoop.”

  Eli introduced himself and Khan as he looked over the kid. Joey looked about seven or eight, wore mis-matched shoes, grimy clothes, and smelled like he needed a bath.

  “I wish I had a basketball with me,” Eli said. “I’d play with you if I could, but we’re here to do… a job.”

  “For Mrs. Peters?” Joey ran ahead of them and jumped up on the fence to open the back gate. “What are you doing? Can I help? You look like you’re from the army, but that’s not an army truck. It’s a plumber van. Are you here to fix a toilet?”

  Khan snorted at the idea. “Kid, we’re not plumbers. We’re more like knights, here to vanquish something Mrs. Peters doesn’t need.”

  Joey unlatched the gate and swung it open, his body draped over the top. “Like a monster?”

  A dog barked sharply.

  Sitting near Eli’s feet was the same brown, rat-sized dog they’d seen as they were driving up. The dog barked again, like it was giving an order to the kid.

  Joey dropped down from the wooden gate, ripping his T-shirt along the way. “Shut up, Nigel,” he said to the dog. “I didn’t tell them anything.”

  The dog growled.

  “Never mind my dog, Nigel,” Joey said. “He never lets me do anything.” Joey walked toward them, his arms outstretched. “Those bags look heavy. Let me carry something. I can help.”

  Khan dug into one of his cargo-pants pockets and held out ten dollars. “Go buy some candy.”

  The kid didn’t seem interested in the money. “I don’t like candy.”

  “But girls like candy,” Khan said. “You buy the candy to bribe the girls, so they’ll have to kiss you, and—”

  Eli interrupted with, “Thanks for the offer, Joey, but the work we do isn’t appropriate for kids.”

  The dog barked again, as if in agreement.

  Khan shook the cash offering at the kid.

  Joey silently took the ten dollars with a limp arm, then turned and walked away with his head and shoulders slumping forward at the perfect angle to emote maximum sadness.

  Eli stared after him, wishing he could do more for the kid. He was probably home schooled, which explained why he was around on a weekday, while other kids his age were at school.

  Khan whistled to get Eli’s attention. “Pull yourself together.” Khan was already at the back door of the house, gesturing for Eli to hurry up.

  Eli trotted up the back walkway and entered through the open doorway.

  They walked through an interior porch, into a sunny-looking kitchen. The same shade of bright yellow that was on the home’s exterior walls colored the kitchen’s tile backsplash.

  Carla Peters swept up the last remnants of broken dishes, her white curls bouncing, then tapped the dustpan into the garbage.

  “As you boys can see, this ghost is a very naughty boy,” she said, sounding more frustrated than terrified. “At first, I thought it was cute. He would mix up the labels on my tinned goods, and I’d open up a can of peaches to find baked beans.” She chuckled as she hung up the broom and dustpan on wall hooks next to the refrigerator. “Fine, I thought. I’ll have baked beans for breakfast instead of peaches.”

  Khan set his bag on the floor and started looking around the kitchen. “Has the spirit attempted to harm you?”

  Someone who was not Carla answered the question, not yet, but it’s becoming more of a nuisance. It’s not part of our plan.

  Eli looked around to see who’d spoken inside his head. It was only the three of them and Carla’s miniature poodle in the kitchen. The dog gave Eli a long, deliberate stare, as if to say, do your job quickly and go home to your revolting cat.

  I don’t have a cat, Eli thought.

  You stink of cat.

  The exchange between Eli and the poodle was interrupted by Carla offering them miniature cocktail wieners from a can.

  “Sure,” Eli said.

  Khan elbowed him. “She was talking to the dog. Come on, let’s go check the other rooms.”

  They excused themselves and left the kitchen to check the other rooms.

  When they re
ached the living room, a tingle ran up and down Eli’s back.

  “Did you feel that?” Khan asked. “The Disturbance is following us.”

  Eli stopped walking and looked around. The living room looked normal enough, and so did the floral-patterned sofas with doilies on the armrests. The coffee table held five different remote controls—which wasn’t unusual—and a levitating candy dish—which was unusual, but not entirely unexpected.

  Eli nudged Khan and nodded toward the candy dish.

  Khan said, in a deep, theatrical voice, “I think I’ll have some delicious hard candy.”

  He slowly reached forward. When his fingertips grazed the edge of the glass bowl, the dish suddenly flew up into the air. The bowl began to twirl, whipping hard candies around the room.

  Eli held his ground, trying to appear brave on the surface, while the tingle in his spine moved down and began bodily production of that no-good omen: crack sweat.

  “Not bad,” Khan said to the unseen entity. “But candy dishes only weigh a couple of pounds.” He turned to Eli and gave him a sly smile. “We’re dealing with an itty bitty baby para-electrical element.” He nodded for Eli to continue the conversation.

  Eli reached up and removed the chunk of candy that had lodged in his ear. He remembered what Khan had said at their previous job, about poltergeists trying to impress para-professionals such as themselves.

  “You’re right, boss,” Eli said. “Candy isn’t very heavy. I suppose I could be more impressed than this.”

  The air in the room shifted temperature dramatically, dropping down to a point chilly enough to make Eli’s breath come out as fog.

  “Wow,” Eli said as he admired the visible plumes of his breath.

  “Don’t be impressed,” Khan snapped. “That’s nothing. The itty bitty baby is only doing that parlor trick because it can’t lift a sofa.”

  Something in the room creaked.

  Eli was so busy admiring his foggy breath, he didn’t see a floral print sofa flying toward his head.

  Chapter Four

  The flying sofa easily tackled Eli Carter to the floor, and the addition of the second flying sofa kept him there.

  Everything went dark for Eli, flat on the room’s carpet and covered in a pyramid of furniture.

  “Oh dear, oh dear,” he heard Mrs. Carla Peters say. “Is your partner okay?”

  “I’m alive,” Eli answered, his voice muffled by throw pillows and doilies.

  Khan bellowed at the woman, “Ma’am, for your own safety, PLEASE EXIT THE PREMISES!”

  “Oh dear, oh dear,” he heard her say before opening and slamming shut the front door.

  It took Eli a few seconds to tell which way was up. He wiggled like a worm and determined he was on his stomach. He continued to wiggle, moving toward a triangle of light.

  “IS THAT ALL YOU’VE GOT?” Khan bellowed.

  Eli tried to wiggle faster, spurned on by Khan’s taunting words. The weight above him got heavier, though. More objects were being added to the pile atop him. Now he couldn’t move at all.

  Worse still, he realized that the encouraging cries coming from Khan were meant for the poltergeist, not Eli. Khan clapped and squealed with the unfettered joy of a child at a magic show, calling out for more things to be piled on top of the pyramid.

  This went on for three minutes and twenty seconds, though it felt like, to Eli, at least ten minutes.

  Finally, the sounds of objects hurtling onto the pile ceased. Eli listened to the sound of their bags of gear being pulled from the pyramid and then unzipped.

  A pillow dislodged, revealing a crack of light in front of Eli. He used his nose to widen the crack enough for him to see into the living room, which looked strangely empty now that all the furniture was on top of him.

  He could see Khan moving around the room, arranging five black objects in a circular formation. These were the hexapods, now named pentapods, because they were down to five.

  Eli spat carpet fibers out of his mouth, then said, “Gah.”

  Khan replied, “Can you wait about five minutes? We don’t have long.”

  “That depends. What happens in five minutes?”

  Khan chuckled. “You’ll have to stop goofing around in your blanket fort.”

  Eli groaned, then watched as Khan flicked on the switches at the bottom of each pentapod. Just like during the first demonstration, a soft hum filled the room. The hum was soothing, like the sound Eli imagined a crystal cavern might make as a breeze whirled through.

  Khan pulled a metallic cube from his pocket, held it to the key he wore on a chain around his neck, then set it at the center of the pentapods.

  He got to his feet and left the room, then returned a moment later with a porcelain clown figurine. He held the figurine in the center of the arrangement, where it sparkled in the middle of the miniature fireworks show.

  “Cross your fingers this works,” Khan said.

  “I would if I could move my fingers.”

  “Some help you are.”

  “I should have seen that couch coming. Who doesn’t see a couch? I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but I have an issue with focus.” Eli sighed. “Ooh, lemon drop.” He stretched out his tongue and snagged the yellow hard candy.

  Khan jumped to his feet. “BADDA BOOM!” He dropped the creepy crown figurine unceremoniously and began punching the air.

  Eli held his breath, not sure if that was Khan’s victory response, or the beginning of the next round of battle.

  He felt the weight above him lessening. “It’s over?” he asked. “You got the you-know-what into the trap?”

  “Of course I did. I’m a professional.” Khan pulled off more furniture, until Eli could crawl his way out.

  Eli surveyed the damage in the living room. Except for a few scratches on the wall next to where he’d been imprisoned, the room didn’t look too bad.

  He checked the D6 cube. It was heavier than the empty ones, so he had to believe Khan had captured the poltergeist.

  “Good job, boss,” he said.

  Khan shrugged. “If you say so.”

  Working together, Khan and Eli began putting the room back in order.

  “Sorry I was useless,” Eli said.

  “Don’t say that. You served your purpose. Somebody needed to tire out the para-electrical element so it would need to rest in its chosen vessel. Trapping them when they’re air-borne is nearly impossible.” Khan patted him on the back. “You did your part.”

  Eli crunched the remainder of the lemon drop he’d been enjoying. “If you say so,” he said glumly. He turned to pick up the remote controls from the floor.

  “Stop moping.”

  Eli snorted. He wasn’t moping, or so he thought.

  He didn’t realize it, but as he moved around the living room, he slumped his head and shoulders at the perfect angle to emote maximum sadness.

  Khan left and went next door to retrieve their client.

  Eli picked up the unwrapped hard candies, returned most of them to the candy bowl, then wiped two off on his shirt and popped them in his mouth.

  Mrs. Carla Peters returned with Khan, her white poodle obediently at her side. She excused herself for a minute to get her check book.

  “We take checks?” Eli asked.

  Khan shook his head. “Val is too nice. Don’t worry, though. If someone bounces a check, we can always bounce something else right back.” He tossed the gleaming cube in the air, juggling it between two hands.

  The poodle, who’d stayed in the room to keep an eye on them, let out a sharp bark, as if to say, don’t you dare.

  Eli replied to the dog, “Don’t worry. He’d only do that if the check bounced.”

  Khan tucked the D6 away. “Who are you talking to?”

  Eli pointed to the dog, who was giving them both a suspicious look. Or was it? Poodles always looked suspicious to Eli, especially the tiny ones. Perhaps they were wondering who shrunk them to be so small, with their brains the size of walnuts.


  The dog narrowed its eyes at Eli, as if to say, size isn’t what you think it is, jelly brains.

  Mrs. Carla Peters returned with the check. “Thank you, boys. Now that my gremlin is gone, I hope the internet will finally start working properly.”

  Khan’s posture stiffened, and his hand froze, mid-reach for the check. “Ma’am? You have a gremlin?”

  She waved her hand. “Whatever you call it. Polka-ghost. The polka-ghost that was messing up my kitchen.”

  Khan took the check, letting out his breath audibly. “That’s poltergeist, and yes, we caught it. If you’re having problems with your internet, I suggest you call tech support.”

  “I’ll do that,” she said. “But leave me some of your cards, just in case.”

  Khan handed the woman a dozen business cards, then they gathered their bags of equipment and left by the back door.

  On the way back to the van, Eli started to ask Khan if gremlins were real, but stopped when he saw the little boy, Joey, sitting in the alley shuffling with a deck of cards.

  “Want to see a magic trick?” Joey asked.

  “Sure,” Eli said.

  The kid looked down at the deck of cards and muttered, “Sorry, I don’t know any magic tricks.”

  Khan groaned and picked up the deck of cards. “These are dirty,” he grumbled. “Pick a card.”

  Joey pulled a card from the fanned deck and showed it to Eli: the three of diamonds. He slid the card back in without letting Khan see it. Khan shuffled the deck like a professional, and then opened up one of his cargo pants pockets and put the deck away.

  “You shouldn’t play with cards, kid,” he said. “Next, you’ll be gambling.” He patted his pocket. “Trust me. This is for your own good.”

  Joey started to yell, demanding his cards back. He started off playful, but got more angry, coming at Khan with his arms windmilling. Khan held him back with one palm on Joey’s forehead, then turned to Eli and calmly said, “It’s for his own good.”

  “Give him his cards back.”

  Khan’s dark green eyes danced. “Make me.”

  “Khan. Give Joey his cards.”