by Tony Ortiz
“What do you think they’re talking about?” I asked as we hid behind a crumbling tombstone.
“Shorty’s telling him about us,” said Katie. “They’re trying to figure out how they can chop us up and roast us without getting caught. Or he’s asking him for growth pills. I think the kid had enough of being called Old Baby.”
I cracked up out loud and quickly checked myself. But it was too late. Lin and the man were looking straight at us.
“Katie,” I muttered, slowly backing away. “They’re going to chop us up. Katie!”
“Lin disappeared,” mumbled Katie.
The short boy was gone, and the man was ambling over to us, holding a long shovel over his shoulder, moving through the dusty part of the graveyard, as if he was taking a morning stroll.
“He’s going to bury us alive,” I said.
The man seemed to be a little over six feet now that he was only yards away. His eyes were strange: they had a faint orange ring around the pupils. He had to be a monster. Plus, there was a large birthmark shaped like a curved hand snaking around his left arm.
He reached us with a confused look, but smiled after he studied the dirt and glue on my skin.
“I thought I buried you two already,” the man said calmly.
Oh, my God, he thought we were walking corpses. Now he was going to bury us alive.
“Come this way, you two,” he said. “There’s much work to be done.”
The man sauntered back to the middle of the cemetery. Katie grabbed my arm and whispered sharply, “Jesse, what you doing? Don’t follow him.”
“Hurry up, you two,” said the man, approaching two freshly dug-out holes. “I don’t want to be here all night.”
I continued walking, obeying the man, and Katie hurried after me.
“I can use some extra hands,” said the man, stopping between the two graves and waiting for us to catch up. He spotted a shovel next to another hole. “You can use that one.”
I picked up the bent shovel, surprised to be taking orders from a total stranger who either was going to make us dig our own graves or have us work before he buried us.
“And one more for the little lady.” The man searched the shaded landscape. The bushy trees swayed as a gust of wind blew through the graveyard. The wind blew and sounded, as though a giant was breathing on us. His eyes stopped on a shovel leaning against a withered root. “You can grab that one.”
Katie trudged over to the shovel as she gave me a frown. I knew this wasn’t a smart idea. But this was our chance to whack him and make a run for it. But why was this guy being so trusting with us? I decided I was going to go for it. I lifted my shovel shakily in the air.
“I don’t think that is the way you hold a shovel,” he informed, “unless of course you were planning to strike me with it.”
I froze.
“Are you just going to stand there? Get to work. I’ve got a lot of graves to dig.”
“You’re not going to bury us?” asked Katie, hurrying over.
“Bury you two?” smiled the man. “I could never do such a terrible thing. You’re kids.”
“You made it seem that way.”
“Oh, I did. Sorry. Just a little Halloween fun. I don’t get much amusement around here.”
The man stuck out a cruddy hand. “Jacoby.”
Katie took his hand. “Katie,” she giggled as he smothered her hand in mud.
I shook his hand. “Jesse,” I said.
“Great name.” Jacoby turned back to Katie. “Is that a real witch gown?”
“I think it is. His mamá gave it to me.”
“You tell her she did a great job. An old human friend made similar ones. He was quite good. He would love to see this one.”
“Did you make your own costume?” I said.
“No. All natural. You work here for a couple of days before Halloween, you’ll be set.”
“Oh. Are you going to dress up?”
“I usually don’t. I’m not that much into Halloween anymore. So . . . you two looking for work or you still got more trick-or-treating to do?”
“No, we’re done,” I said.
“Yeah,” agreed Katie.
“I sensed you two were done,” he said, “or maybe looking for something?”
Before I could say anything, he continued.
“Lin, the boy you were following, was quite terrified of you two. He told me how two kids were chasing after him, probably planning to beat him up.”
Katie laughed a little.
“No, what happened was . . .” I said, not really knowing what to say, “we were getting attacked–”
“By who?” Jacoby asked earnestly.
“Well, not really attacked,” corrected Katie. “We were just getting hassled by some girls. But this man dressed in a costume came and saved us.”
“Did he look like a large bat?”
“Yes,” said Katie, amazed.
“Soundrec is a friend.”
“But . . .” I countered, “but it had to be a costume.”
“Can a human fly?” said Jacoby. “I don’t believe so.”
“But–”
“He flew. He was overseas around that time. The only way he could’ve been there is if he flew or psyclined. Believe me, Jesse, Soundrec is as real as you are. His job is to protect us from evil halloweens and humans if he has the time. Think of him as a strange-looking officer, very well-respected, and definitely not someone you want to aggravate. You two, start digging, we have to get this done before ten.”
Katie and I climbed down into the hole on the right. Before we could get started, we saw Jacoby staring off into the distance. Katie and I stood on our tiptoes to peek over the top of our hole. A hunched-over bald man with orange skin was trudging down a dirt hill. He was wearing long shorts and a long sleeved top.
“Listen,” prompted Jacoby, stooping to our eye level. “You can’t look him in the eyes–”
“Why not?” I asked anxiously.
“Jesse, there’s nothing to worry about . . . but this is extremely important. If you meet his gaze, you’ll get hurt. And I don’t mean a cut or a bruise. Kids like you two wouldn’t be able to handle the curse. You would die instantly.”
Katie and I fixed our eyes on Jacoby’s.
“He’s a very powerful menala.”
“What’s that?” I said, remembering that name being spoken by the werewolf.
“Jesse, not so loud. A menala is a rare type of halloween. There are only three menalas living today. The other two are quite harmless, but this one . . .”
Katie and I clambered out of the hole and lowered our heads immediately. Out of my peripheral vision I could see that the menala stopped short of reaching us, taking interest in something.
“I knew he would find that cat,” said Jacoby. “It’s been killing a few birds around here.”
The menala tossed a stick near a brown cat sitting by a tree. The cat turned its head around, fatally fixing its eyes on his. As if in a trance, the cat ambled around the tree. The menala waited, but the cat didn’t come around.
“As long as you avoid his eyes, he’s harmless,” said Jacoby. “If you think that I’m kind, then consider him a saint. However, don’t bring up the subject of menalas around him. One was killed a year ago. . . . You don’t need to fear him. I'll show you.”
Meanwhile, the menala approached and stood next to Jacoby. Katie swept her eyes along the ground, and I did the same, to see the menala’s orange legs. They were blotchy and smooth, with a hole bunch of freckles. Unlike Jacoby, the menala was very tidy, with not a spec of dirt on him.
Jacoby shook a branch overhead, and a leaf fell onto the ground. The menala reached down and picked it up. More leaves fell, and the menala picked those up as well. It was then that I noticed he had silky orange forearm hairs, at least a foot long.
“Why are you knocking the leaves off their branches?” the menala asked in a mellow voice. “You’re making a mess.”
“It�
��s fall, and so the leaves must fall,” said Jacoby. “We have our first helpers. They come from far away – maybe from across the street – to lend us a hand. Katie and Jesse . . . meet Dorian, one of the scariest halloweens around.”
I held out my hand. A few seconds later, a soft hand shook mine. Katie shook his hand next, venturing to look up as high as Dorian’s neck.
“What did Lin say?” Dorian asked Jacoby.
“That the baby is going to be marked as a Dark Death.”
“He’s making himself known again.”
Having an urge to look higher, I slowly looked up, and saw Jacoby staring directly at Dorian’s eyes. He had lied.
“Are you talking about Jack?” said Katie promptly.
“Yes,” said Jacoby, looking surprised.
“He’s real?”
“Yes.”
“Who is he?” I asked, looking only at Jacoby.
“I told you,” said Katie.
I didn’t look at her.
“We don’t know much of him,” answered Jacoby.
“He’s the reason for the pumpkins,” said Katie. “He’s the most feared creature in Halloween.”
“I have to agree with you,” said Jacoby.
My eyes started to creep up to look at Dorian, but Jacoby stopped me just in time by placing his hand on my head.
“I thought no one could look at Dorian?” I said.
“That’s correct.”
“You did.”
“I’m the only one who can.”
“Can’t he–” said Katie, but then turned to face Dorian’s brown cloth shirt. “Dorian, can’t you stop it from hurting people?”
“No. I guess mind control must have limitations.”
“You can control people?” I yelped.
Dorian didn’t answer.
“Kind of scary, isn’t it?” said Jacoby. “That’s why I’m the only friend he’s got.”
“We’re his friends, too,” Katie and I said in unison.
Dorian smiled, or it felt like he did. I knew he liked the kind words because there was a long silence before Jacoby spoke again.
“Now that you’re officially Dorian’s friends, I need you to get back to work.”
Dorian climbed down into a muddy grave and started digging. He didn’t just randomly toss the dirt out, but placed it neatly in a pile above. His every movement was slow and precise.
“I guess you two can help me now,” said Jacoby.
“Can’t you and Dorian use magic to do the digging?” I said.
“Why? It’ll take away the satisfaction of all that hard work. We’re one of the few halloweens who dislike using magic.”
“What kind of magic can you do? Can you walk through walls?”
“Jesse, I’m not a ghost,” said Jacoby, sounding annoyed.
“Sorry. But you are a . . .” I said, unsure as for what he was.
“A halloween? Samhain? Yes. But a halloween lives–”
“Samhain? I thought that was a man.”
Jacoby looked like he had no idea what I was talking about. “Samhain is just another name for the creatures that live in Halloween. Halloween and samhain mean the same thing. In modern usage, samhain has become the more common of the two. They mean two things: the race and the world. Halloweens live one day a year. However, Dorian and I live all year round, like you.”
“Then you’ve entered twice, no?” said Katie.
Jacoby turned momentarily, processing what she said. “Katie, I’m not sure,” he said. “We look to be halloweens, but we don’t live like them.”
After a long pause, I said with a tentative smile, “Back to work, everyone!”
Katie and Jacoby grinned as they went back to their shoveling. During the next hour, Katie shared some of her Halloween knowledge with the rest of us. She seemed to know more than Jacoby and Dorian combined, and they were actual creatures of Halloween.
Katie was finishing up her last story as I smoothed out a side wall of my hole.
“. . . so, you smell something rotten, you run. If you don’t, Jack will play a trick on you and leave you miserable for the rest of your life.”
“Katie, you would rank high on an S-HPR,” informed Jacoby.
“So,” I butted in, feeling a little left out, “Jack O’Lantern has been living in Halloween for more than a thousand years?”
“Yup,” said Katie. “Two thousand or more.”
“Why Jack O’Lantern?” questioned Jacoby, looking to be testing Katie.
“Because all he has is a lantern,” she answered, “with a burning coal from the underworld given to him by Satan. It lights his way through his darkness. A lit turnip is a symbol of immortality. Irish children, long ago, would sometimes see the glow moving across the hills. They would light up carved turnips every Halloween to ward him off. And so Jack–”
“Of the Lantern,” finished Jacoby. “Humans came up with the name.”
“But mí papá told me of his real name.”
Jacoby looked taken aback. “You know his full name?”
“I don’t remember it completely.” Katie thought for a second. “It’s been a while. Have you heard it before?”
“A few times. It was too long ago to remember it now.”
“Do you believe he’s still alive?” I asked.
“Sometimes.”
“Have you ever seen him?”
“No. No one has actually seen him.”
I watched Dorian pick up a slimy worm and carefully place it out of harm’s way. He poked his finger in the soil next to the worm and then went back to work.
“Since no one has seen him,” I said, “he might have never existed.”
“That may be true,” said Jacoby.
“Then who could’ve killed the menala, if not Jack?”
“There’s no one. Everyone knows killing a menala is fatal.”
“But you think Jack killed the menala, no?” asked Katie.
“The tortics did it,” said Dorian quietly, disappearing back inside his hole.
“What are tortics?”
“The only halloweens who have the guts to kill humans,” said Jacoby.
“But they don’t get caught?” I said. “What about that bat . . .”
“Soundrec? Not even four weegals could stop a young tortic.”
“Are they the most powerful halloweens,” Katie mused, “other than Jack?”
“Sadly, no. There are many who possess some powerful magic. I’ve heard of one in Antarctica and Japan, and there’s an Indian in Brazil who alone exceeds the entire clan of tortics. Hard to believe this after you’ve seen what a tortic can do. Dorian could take on a tortic, however.”
“A full-grown one?” I asked in awe.
“With his burning hatred for them, two or even three at once. You get him riled up enough, they would be in some trouble.”
Katie and I watched Dorian down in the hole trying to pull his shovel out of some large roots. He gave out a frustrated grunt, after failing to wrestle it loose.
“Need help?” called Jacoby.
“No,” replied Dorian, rocking the handle up and down. “I just have to–”
“Looks pretty stuck to me. Dorian, just let it be. I’ll get another–”
With one more rock, the shovel flipped out, nearly hitting him in the face.
“You’d never think he would harm anyone,” said Jacoby. We both shook our head in agreement. “But if tortics were here, you would see the fury he’s capable of.”
“Do tortics come over here?” I asked.
“No. They live in Europe. They’re like us. They keep to themselves. From what Lin has told me, they can disappear so–”
“Marvelous spectacles!” I said excitedly.
Jacoby gave me an odd look.
“He says stuff like that sometimes,” explained Katie.
“You shouldn’t be using words like that,” he said. “No one talks like that. Don’t let me catch you again.”
I nodded uneasily.<
br />
“That’s what I said,” agreed Katie. “If I didn’t know him, I’d knock him out for such a thing.”
What was she talking about? She used weird words, too. Crapper was just as weird as anything I’d ever said. I quickly thought of a question.
“How can anyone match the tortics if we can’t see them?”
“There are ways.” Jacoby paused and grinned. “They’re the reason I’m afraid to leave the graveyard. I don’t want to encounter one of them on a bad day.”
“What about the ones in Antarctica and Japan?” questioned Katie.
“We don’t know much about them. Himalaya and the twin demons don’t come out often.”
“Is it the same with the one in Brazil?”
“Yes. But she’s like Jack, no one has ever seen her. She may not even exist. But then there is that famous picture of her, and Soundrec claims she was the one who turned his arm into a branch.”
“I saw that weird thing,” said Katie.
“Me too,” I said.
We all noticed that Dorian had finished our hole and two others.
“Well, I believe we’re done,” said Jacoby. “Dorian and I plan on visiting a few towns for an inspection, and if you like, you can come along for a short bit.”
“Really?” I shot out.
“However, you’ll have to warn your parents that you’ll be gone for an hour.”
“Mine won’t mind,” said Katie. “We can just ask Jesse’s.”
“And if you get into any trouble,” Jacoby added, “we won’t be held responsible. Alright?”
“Alright,” Katie and I nodded eagerly.
“Where we going to meet up?” said Katie.
“Do you know where the–” began Jacoby, stopping to stare at my cleats. “Jesse, did you just come back from a soccer match?”
I shook my head, blushing a little.
“It’s better if you leave them here.”
