My Friends Are Dead People
Page 10
“Hess is the Candy Apple!” shouted Lin excitedly, jumping up and down, using the railing, as though it was the handle of a pogo stick. “Hess, trample them all! Kill! Kill!!! . . .”
Lin and the crowd fell silent. Joan had made a sudden swoop across the fifty-meter floor and sling-shot Hess’s large body into the hole. All the tiny spiders scurried over and dragged him toward the back. A few skittered their legs, stabbing Hess countless times, trying to get him to let go of the edge.
2:55 . . . 2:56 . . . 2:57 . . . 2:58
And then, Hess let out a deadly roar, causing all the little spiders to shrivel and coil. A firestorm swept across the arena seconds after, engulfing the rest of the spiders and obliterating them without a trace.
The clock stopped at three minutes, and the crowd CHEERED.
“I win!” shouted Lin gleefully. “Hess is the Candy Apple! Hess is the Candy Apple!”
Katie and I clapped. Peter waved at us jubilantly from one of the front rows.
On the game floor, Hess dropped from the hole and immediately summoned a swirling black cloud around a red samhain, with silky red hair.
“It’s over!” she muttered as Hess approached her. “Please, don’t! Hess!”
Two poles erupted out of the ground and a web instantly took form. At Hess’s command, the poles bent outward and snapped in two.
“What’s he doing?” I said. “It’s not over?”
No one answered.
Dirt started to swirl around Hess’s feet and up to his claws as he came face to face with his nemesis.
The crowd set in motion a loud chant.
“Hess! Hess! HESS! HESS! HESS!. . .”
Joan held out her hand. “It’s over!” she moaned, eyeing the spinning pillar of dirt, swirling around his claws like a mini-cyclone. But the glow evaporated, and Hess shook her hand, not looking like he wanted to.
The crowd BOOED, which gradually turned to a chant as Hess exited the arena through a small door swinging open for him.
“Ireland! Ireland! IRELAND! IRELAND! IRELAND! . . .”
“Why are they shouting ‘Ireland’?” I yelled.
“That’s where the semifinals will be held,” answered Jacoby in his regular tone. “And Hess is the first melkian gargoyle ever to make it past the quarterfinals. Joan was very fortunate.”
“Why’s that?”
The chanting subsided.
“She’s not a true contender for him. If Hess played as unfairly as she did, Joan would have been drinking tonic potions for the rest of her life. Alright, let’s find seats.”
“That was cool,” said Katie.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I knew he would win.”
“Yeah.”
“You were scared.”
“Yeah, so? She was hurting Hess!”
“Jacoby,” I asked, “what’s the fastest time held by the samhain player?”
“Two minutes. The record is held by Soundrec.”
“Has any one come anywhere near his record?”
“It’s been broken already. He only holds the record in this stadium. There are three more: one in Ireland, one somewhere in Australia, and one in Africa.”
“What are those records?”
“I know a young pel kelical, which is similar to a werewolf, who holds a one-minute record in Australia. But they tend not to get much competition there. This stadium and the one in Ireland usually bring in the strongest halloweens or, as others would say, the more evil ones. But the official Halloween record is forty-nine seconds, held by a German witch. It happened in the first finals after the games reopened in 1854. Coincidently, she was the one rumored to have seen Jack. Of course, she’s long gone now.”
“You’d know what he looks like then, no?” said Katie.
“Yes and no. Officially, no one has seen him. A fleeting sighting reported by one is not sufficient evidence.”
Two cloaked warlocks with grim faces brushed by rudely. The tails of their cloaks whipped Katie in the face.
“What’s their problem?” she said, annoyed, swatting away the floating fabric.
“They’re . . .” Jacoby waited until the mysterious samhains were further away before he continued, “. . . scouts from Ireland. They keep an eye on the competition level here. I don’t doubt they’re here strictly on the account of the tortic. The O’Games are taken very seriously in Ireland.”
Loud gasps of dismay broke out from the crowd on the other side.
“They’re here. Let’s find a seat.”
No one listened to him. We were all looking across the stadium at nine slender creatures moving calmly down the aisles. They were just as Katie had described: tall, broad-shouldered, thin-waisted, with elephant ears tied back behind their heads and red reptilian skin.
The tortics made themselves comfortable in a reserved section, unfazed by the commotion.
“Come along, you two,” said Jacoby from a flight of stairs above us. “They’re merely spectators.”
“What about Kala’s father?” I said.
“He’s not here.”
“What?” I exclaimed. “He’s got to be here. How do you know?”
“I checked. There are no humans here, other than . . .”
“Why would he not show up? But what about Kala–”
“Jesse, that’s enough.”
More commotion rose around us. They had noticed Dorian. Some stumbled out of their seats and moved away, ensuring plenty of seating for us.
“Good,” said Jacoby, taking a seat. “Jesse, Katie.”
Katie and I sat down next to him. Lin plopped happily between Jacoby and Dorian, eyes glinting with mischief.
“Watch this,” Lin told us as he sneakily drew a yellow ball out of his pocket. His eyes were fixed on a female vampire with black hair and black lipstick, sitting five seats away.
“Lin, put that back in your pocket,” commanded Jacoby.
But Lin already rolled the ball down the aisle. “Stinky ball on the move,” he whispered merrily.
Katie and I eagerly watched the ball come to a stop exactly under the vampire and emit a trail of bubbly vapor, which coiled up her stockings. Her face shriveled, and she shot out of her seat, shrieking, “Jack is–”. She then saw the gas and stomped on the ball, crushing it.
“That was good,” smiled Lin. “You want to trick one, Jesse? All blackian vampires fall for it–” He pulled away as Jacoby reached for his head. “Jacoby, I’m just having some fun with some Jack pranks. Don’t be in a box, human!”
“Not here, Lin. You know better.”
A loud horn blew inside the arena walls. A pale face poked out of a small door for a moment then disappeared inside.
I wasn’t feeling good. My stomach was hurting. How could Kala’s father not show up?
“You okay?” asked Katie. “You’re sweating.”
“I don’t feel good,” I exhaled softly.
“You’ll be fine,” said Jacoby.
I whirled around. Who did Jacoby think he was? He had no right to talk to me like that. I angrily scanned the stadium, trying to calm myself. But it was easy to see there was no clown in the audience because most of the samhains were dark in color or wearing dark color clothes – even the mummies.
On the dirt-covered game floor, Kala was shuffling out to the center, kicking up dirt and mumbling something to himself.
“Poor Kala,” said Katie. She then shouted, “Come on, Kala! . . . How does it start?” she asked Jacoby.
“Kala needs to knock on the doors and say ‘trick or treat’. Then the game begins.”
“Come on, Kala,” I whispered. “You can do it. You’ll make it.”
Kala stood in the center of the floor, still as a statue.
The spectators hustled to their feet and started to chant. “Trick or treat! Trick or treat! Trick or treat! . . .”
They kept at it, shouting louder and louder. Kala dragged his feet slowly toward the giant doors, looking pale and haggard, as if he had been throwing up.
“Maybe we should help him!” said Katie.
“But we can’t,” I reminded her. “Remember what the proclamation said?”
Kala finally reached the thick oak doors and drew his eyes up to the top as a slight breeze came in from one of the exits on the first level. Not noticing the spooky wind, he looked around sadly, wiped his face with the underside of his drenched robe, and finally knocked.
Boom.
Before Kala could even ask the question, the wooden gates slowly began to crank open. He scampered backward, afraid. Sparkling lights illuminated the upper levels and sharp popping noises pierced the sky. All nine tortics on the far side were on their feet along with everyone else. The crowd’s deafening cheer pressed against my eardrums.
I noticed Dorian clutching his arms in a trance. I wondered what he was thinking about. He probably didn’t like being at a place where he felt so unwanted.
“Jacoby, you think the tortics really came here for the games?” I shouted.
“I’m not sure anymore,” replied Jacoby slowly, his eyes locked on the tortics. “They have firmly stated they would never participate in the games.”
“You think they’re here for Kala?”
“Jesse, no more questions.”
Back on the floor, Kala was stumbling backward toward the black hole.
“He’s going to end the game?” I realized. “He’s nearing the hole!”
“The tortic’s out,” I heard Katie say.
The crowd came to an abrupt hush as Kala tripped and fell backward. The tortic was standing in the shadows of the door, taking a long look around the quiet stadium. Some gaping samhains readied themselves to make a quick departure in case the tortic turned on them instead.
I looked up at the clock.
0:01 . . . 0:02 . . .
The game had begun. Kala didn’t seem to care. He remained lying on his back, staring skyward at a large cluster of dark clouds. His lips were moving slowly. I turned to Dorian, who was doing the same thing, then back to Kala. He brought up his head to look at the big-eared samhain who was still standing near the door. His gaze drifted away from his family and pierced the arena’s wall.
“What’s it doing?” asked Katie anxiously.
There was a slight echo. My heart stopped as I was sure that the tortics heard her.
“Katie, brittle your mouth,” Jacoby whispered strictly.
“He’s not even playing,” she fretted. “He’s just standing there looking through the wall.”
I looked around, but no one was looking at her. The noise had started up again.
“Maybe he’s thinking,” Lin proposed, “about whether he should do it or not in front of everyone. But there are too many of us, right, Jacoby? He can’t kill Kala.”
Jacoby didn’t respond because the tortic was now striding across the floor. Kala squealed, frightened, and scampered backward on his hands and feet.
That was it. The tortic decided he was going to go through with it, despite all the witnesses. The crowd didn’t cheer, but gasped as though they were all going to be attacked. They must have had the same suspicion as us. But Lin was right: the tortic couldn’t possibly get away with murdering Kala in front of everyone. There looked to be close to one-hundred thousand samhains here.
0:13 . . . 0:14 . . .
I leaned out of my seat to see what was happening. Kala had run smack into a wall. The hole was practically over his head. The tortic magically raised Kala off the ground by slicing the air with his claws just inches from Kala’s chest. Kala’s legs flailed wildly in the air while he slid up and along the wall. The tortic moved along with him, going at the same speed and in full control of the spellbinding grip he had on Kala, effortlessly heading toward the black hole.
The spectators were darting glances back and forth between the clock and the arena.
0:18 . . . 0:19 . . .
The tortic was going to crush Soundrec’s record. But the tortic stalled under the hole, while Kala hovered at the lip of it. Kala squirmed, trying to break loose, but to no avail. The malicious black eyes roamed the seats and the dark sky once more. He was a throw away from ending the game and smashing all existing records, but he just wouldn’t do it. Did he not care about winning?
0:22 . . . 0:23 . . .
I looked over to the tortics across the stadium. One of them was staring directly at me.
“Jacoby?” I mumbled uneasily. “Jacoby! He’s looking at–”
Jacoby was staring right back at the curious tortic. And it wasn’t just one looking our way, it was all of them.
Dorian bowed his head even lower. This time I could make out what he was saying.
“Listen,” he muttered. “They hate foul smells. . . . No, Kala, don’t do that. Do what I said.”
A bright purple light fired from Kala’s hand, but the tortic tilted his head, smoothly dodging the fizzing beam of light, which went swirling and spiraling into the crowd. Samhains jumped out of its way until a red-boned skeletis captured the trail of light and sucked it into its mouth.
Unfazed, the tortic magically pulled Kala’s hands back and flicked his claw sharply. Kala’s scream rang nauseously throughout the stadium.
“He’s torturing him!” yelled Katie. Her yell carried to the other side. “Stop hurting him, you freak!”
“Katie, stop,” I begged quietly. “You can’t–”
It was too late. The entire stadium had already turned its attention to Katie, including the competing tortic.
Not intimidated by this, Katie persevered. “Kala!” she shouted again. “Listen to me!”
0:38 . . . 0:39 . . .
The tortic snatched the sobbing Kala, getting a choking hold on him this time, and stepped in front of the hole.
Meanwhile, I could hear Dorian still trying to communicate with him. “This must be done. They cannot endure strong smells. Listen to me, Kala! They are not here for the games.”
I turned to Jacoby. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the tortics who were now untying their golden ear bands.
0:47 . . . 0:48 . . .
Katie shot up from her seat and shouted, “Kala! They don’t like–”
Jacoby tried to reach for her throat, but she had anticipated this, and took off running down the stairs, with all the samhains watching her every step. Her witch hat flew off her head; her hair was perfectly straight, her face was smooth and young; she looked unmistakably human.
Katie ran up to the safety bar and shouted, “Kala! I know how you can free yourself!”
The samhain crowd didn’t care about the game anymore and began to murmur loudly amongst themselves.
Trying to prevent the worst, Jacoby shot past me and hurried down the steps.
Katie noticed Jacoby and took one sharp deep breath then screamed, “THEY - HATE - HORRIBLE–”
The last word didn’t come out. Jacoby had muted her scream by placing a hand on her throat. He pushed her hat back on her head and folded the brim down to hide her face.
A great commotion occurred afterward. I thought it was because of Katie, but it wasn’t only her. Something had happened on the game floor. I walked down my aisle to see Kala kicking and flinging his body all over the place. The tortic released him and turned away. He wasn’t interested in Kala anymore. His ears flung open and perked up, rotating a smidgen to the right to listen for something amidst all the noise. The tortics in the audience were doing the same thing.
Kala used the opportunity to rip a portion of the wall out and shoot it at the tortic, pointlessly cracking him in the back. The tortic stepped heavily onto Kala’s leg and continued to listen.
Dorian was still talking to Kala. “Are you listening to me? Four deep breaths and a hold will do it. . . . No, you do have time. Fight through it. Now, Kala! Or I am coming to get you.”
The tortic picked Kala up, preparing to launch him. But the aim was for the wall rather than t
he hole. Before I knew what possessed me, I leaned over the seat in front of me and shouted at the top of my lungs.
“THEY HATE FOUL SMELLS!”
Katie pushed herself angrily away from Jacoby. Kala had heard. He took four quick breaths, held it, and then opened his mouth, letting out a puff of hot air. The tortic’s face withered as he stumbled backward, with Kala still in his grasp. Kala twisted his body, freeing himself immediately.
The tortic leaned down and stabbed four fingers into Kala’s leg, then chucked him into the wall.
I turned to look at Dorian, but he was gone. I turned down to the lower level to see Katie standing by herself.
“Leave him alone!” she screamed.
Kala wobbled for a moment across the floor and fell into a puddle of his own blood right as Jacoby and Dorian appeared ten yards behind the tortic. The tortic didn’t notice them, completely absorbed in something very frightening. He apprehensively sniffed the air, and his nose shriveled up at once. His ears fell to his side, and he promptly disappeared, along with his family.
The crowd didn’t even murmur. They were as confused as Jacoby and Dorian, who now stood alone on the game floor. A whirlwind of commotion broke out in the stadium, but didn’t last long, coming to an abrupt stop as the game clock went silent. Just then, the light wind inside the stadium eerily reversed its course and sucked all the candy wrappers, leaves, lamps, and the dirt on the floor out of the stadium. Nothing stirred, but a terrible thunderous sound was swelling outside the stadium.
BOOM! . . . BOOM! . . . BOOM! . . . BOOM! . . .
Then everything was silent, except for the nightmarish wind howling outside the stadium. The crowd had stood up, sensing great danger. When the wind came inside, it carried the foulest smell imaginable. It was a hundred times worse than inside a garbage truck.
A witch’s scream set off a chaotic stadium evacuation, samhains stamped in all directions, frantic to get out of the place. Some shut their eyes and disappeared while others clamped their hands over their ears.