“You gotta help me!” he whispered. “I don’t belong here! I came in for the tour five years ago, and I’ve been a prisoner ever since. Help me! Come back!”
Around the next corner was a very rickety-looking wooden staircase, under dim, swampy lighting. A sign beside the staircase read: “The Cursed Covered Bridge – Do Not Enter!” The glowing tape led right up the steps, to a black-curtained doorway at the top.
“Ladies first,” Seth said.
“Funny,” Jenny said.
Seth went ahead of her. Each step gave a different creaking or cracking sound as you put your weight on it, and actually sank a little bit. It felt like the whole staircase would collapse at any second. Even the handrail wobbled.
At the top, they passed through the strips of black curtain and onto the covered footbridge.
It was just wide enough to walk single file. The roof, walls and floors all looked like they were made of old, rotten boards, with lots of knotholes and broken slats. The sound of a roaring river, and even the smell of dank moisture, rose from underneath the bridge. A very small amount of pale light shone in through the knotholes in the roof.
Seth held her hand behind his back as she followed him. Jenny kept her feet on the glowing strip of tape, drawing her shoulders in and avoiding the walls as much as she could. She knew that scary faces or pictures would pop up in some of the “broken” gaps in the walls, but there were way too many for her to guess where.
As they edged forward in the dark, more sounds joined the running water—splashing sounds, then groans. They were soft, complaining groans at first, then louder and angrier the further Seth and Jenny walked into the bridge. Jenny was beginning to think nothing would pop up at all, when a cold, wet hand seized her boot around the ankle.
Jenny screamed, and the groans rose louder, and were joined by shrieks and howls. Voices roared all around them. Strobe lights flickered through the holes in the roof. Then the whole bridge tilted to the left, throwing Jenny and Seth against the wall. Wet, decayed zombie arms reached through the left wall, pawing all over both of them.
The bridge tilted the other way, and they fell against the opposite wall, where more zombie arms grabbed at them.
“Come on, Jenny!” Seth grabbed her by both hands and pulled her up. The bridge rocked from side to side as they ran. Zombie arms reached for them from both walls and the ceiling.
They burst through the shredded black curtain at the end and stopped to catch their breath in the dark corridor beyond.
“This one,” Jenny gasped, “Is much scarier.”
They made their way through the rest of the haunted house, and Jenny only screamed one more time, when they were walking through a room full of spiderwebs, and a bunch of fat, bristly, wriggling, battery-powered spiders on strings had dropped from the ceiling, landing all over her.
They passed through a cemetery filled with dry ice fog at the back of the warehouse, through a gate, and they were outside. Jenny was still shaking when they reached his car.
“What did you think?” he asked.
“That was awesome.” Jenny grinned around her fangs.
“You screamed a lot.”
“You screamed more!” she countered.
“So we’re going to that party,” Seth said. “Unless you’re too scared.”
“Why should I be?” Jenny asked. “I’ll be the scariest thing there. Even if I didn’t have a costume, I’d still have Jenny pox.”
It was a twenty-minute drive to Barlowe. Whatever they passed, Seth told her it was haunted. According to him, they passed a haunted barn, a haunted cow pasture, a haunted Waffle House, a haunted Department of Motor Vehicles.
When they reached Barlowe, Seth stopped at a railroad crossing, even though there was no train coming. He looked up and down the tracks.
“What are you doing?” she asked him.
“Just watching for the ghost train,” he said. “This railroad is haunted.”
She snickered and punched him in the arm.
The farm outside Barlowe had dozens of cars and trucks lined up in the front field. They followed the dirt road to park with everyone else. Then they walked towards a distant barn illuminated by firelight, from which they could hear old Metallica songs, played very inexpertly by a live band without anything electric. They crested a rise in the field and saw the band was set up in the back of a truck. At least a hundred people were dancing, or drinking from a keg at the front of the barn, or hanging out by a bonfire. Nearly everybody was costumed, so the crowd was a weird mix of aliens, gorillas, hoboes, superheroes, ghosts, a mummy, and lots of girls who’d managed to find or make skimpy, revealing costumes, whether they’d dressed as cats, fairies, or nurses.
“See?” Seth said. “Barlowe parties much better than Fallen Oak.” He led the way into the crowd.
Seth high-fived a werewolf and a cowboy bandit, who pulled down his kerchief to show Seth his face. The bandit commented on how much the Fallen Oak Porcupines sucked, and Seth responded by insulting the Barlowe Bears. It seemed good-natured. Then the werewolf looked at Jenny.
“Who’s your date?” the werewolf asked Seth.
Jenny wanted to open her mouth and correct him, tell him they were just friends, Seth had a girlfriend elsewhere.
“This is Jenny.” Seth introduced her to the Barlowe kids.
“You like cider, Jenny?” the cowboy asked. “We got two full kegs over by the barn. My cousin’s band sucks, but they get better if you drink.”
“I like cider,” Jenny said, though she’d only had the nonalcoholic kind.
“Then have your boyfriend take you over there and get you some.”
“Yeah.” The werewolf smacked Seth’s elbow. “Go put some in her.”
Seth grabbed two plastic cups from a sleeve and pumped them full. Jenny discovered she liked this kind of cider, too—it was sweet, and you forgot there was any alcohol in there.
Seth introduced her to one person after another. Jenny didn’t remember their names, but she would always remember how it felt, being treated like a regular person among regular people. Nobody from Barlowe High had ever heard of Jenny Mittens. Here, she was just Seth’s date, Jenny, and some of the Barlowe guys even tried flirting with her when Seth wasn’t looking. She felt like she wore a disguise much deeper than her costume.
She drank more cups of cider, embracing the warm, glowing buzz it gave her, ignoring Seth’s warnings to slow down. She even joined the dancing crowd in front of the stage for a little while. Even with her layers of costume, she was nervous with so many people moving so fast around her, and she quickly retreated.
Jenny was pouring her fifth or sixth cup of cider when Neesha and Dedrick approached her and Seth at the keg. Neesha was dressed as a go-go dancer with a giant rainbow wig, while Dedrick was the movie monster Candyman: black trenchcoat, hook hand, plastic bees glued to his face.
“I must be drunk already!” Neesha said when she saw Jenny and Seth. “Cause I think I’m seeing Seth Barrett with Jenny Mittens at this party.”
“Guys, you know Jenny Morton.” Seth put an arm around her shoulders, and Jenny felt absurdly protected by it.
Dedrick looked her up and down, raised an eyebrow at Seth, and swigged his cider.
Neesha stepped toward Jenny. “Jenny Mittens, Seth might be slumming with you tonight, but he will be right back up Ashleigh’s ass tomorrow. Trust me. I’ve seen it plenty of times.”
Jenny knew exactly what Ashleigh would have said in Jenny’s situation. Emboldened by the cider, and Seth’s arm around her, she said it aloud, even imitating Ashleigh’s haughty, condescending voice: “Oh, look at you, Neesha. No wonder Ashleigh calls you ‘the ugly one.’”
“She does not call me that!” Neesha charged at Jenny, but Dedrick restrained her.
Jenny let Seth take her arm and lead her away from the brewing fight. She sipped more cider as Seth led her around behind the barn, to a quiet area away from everyone. There was a wooden trailer half-filled with hay bale
s. Goats in a pen munched on grass, and one of them watched Jenny and Seth with curiosity. Overhead, the night was clear, and she could see a hundred thousand stars. The barn helped to block out a terrible rendition of “Enter Sandman.”
Leaving the crowd made Jenny aware of just how drunk she was. She never drank. Now she felt exuberant, her stomach warm, her head floating like a big, smiling cloud, all her worries erased.
Seth boosted Jenny up onto the hay trailer, then climbed up to sit next to her. From this higher vantage, Jenny saw people in costume making out by the barn’s back door, and against a fence, and in the field of puffy white cotton beyond the fence.
“Don’t let Neesha bother you,” Seth said.
“Who?”
Seth laughed. Jenny drained her cup and looked at him. She was feeling dangerously bold, overflowing with courage. It wasn’t a familiar feeling, but she could certainly live with it.
“Seth,” she whispered, “I’ve been thinking about you.”
“What kind of things are you thinking?” Seth grinned.
“You said you weren’t afraid of me because of your power.”
“No. I’m not afraid of you because you’re too cute to be scary.”
“But I was thinking, what if you’re right? I spread disease and you heal. So what if yours cancels mine, and we can touch?”
“Let’s try it,” he said.
“This is serious,” she said. “You could get hurt. Or die.”
“But if we can touch, that means we can make out, right?” he asked.
“Maybe.”
“You want me to risk my life for maybe?” He grinned.
“No, forget it.” Jenny made herself breathe. The world was starting to swim. This was a bad idea. “It’s too dangerous.”
The tall, broad-shouldered werewolf stumbled around the back of the barn, and then puked noisily against it. He saw Seth and Jenny, raised his fist and cried “Seniors! Woo!” Then he staggered back to the party, shouting “I’m empty! Time to reload!”
“I want to try,” Seth said. “You’re the only person who can help me understand what I have.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Let’s do this.”
Jenny scooted away so she could turn and face him.
“Take off your glove,” she said.
“Do I get to tell you what to take off?” Seth pulled away the glove and held up a bare hand.
“Maybe next time.” Jenny carefully removed the lacy white glove from her arm. Her heart pounded. It felt like she was about to lose her virginity. “Just one fingertip. For one second. Okay?”
“Okay, Jenny.”
“Hold still.” Jenny had to close one eye to focus on his finger, since she was seeing double. She reached her hand towards his. With a huge mental effort, fighting eighteen years of repression, she touched the tip of her finger to his. She felt a burning sensation at the contact, and quickly pulled away.
“Does it hurt?” Jenny asked. “Do you have the pox?”
“I’m fine.” He smiled. “See? Told you I can’t get sick.”
“Do it again,” she said. This time, Jenny laid her palm flat against his. She held it for one, two, three seconds, and then she couldn’t bear it and pulled away. She stared at his hand, waiting for the sores to appear, the corruption to spread through his skin.
Nothing happened.
“One more.” Jenny pressed her hand against his for five seconds, then ten, long enough to spread an infection deep into him. Every passing second made her more anxious, and she exhaled when she pulled away.
“What do you want to try next?” Seth asked. “Our feet?”
“Seth,” Jenny said. “I can touch you.”
“I told you.”
“No, but I really can.” She stripped away her other glove, and his, then laced their fingers together. It was a new sensation: human skin, not her own. It felt warm and soft, like good clay she’d been kneading for a long time. She trembled. “You’re really okay.”
“Are you? You look a little sick.”
“I’m definitely not.” Jenny ran her fingers up and down his arm. Worlds of new sensation opened to her. “I want to touch you so bad.”
“I think I can deal with that.”
She lay her hand on his cheek, where the latex had begun to peel. She pulled away strips of it, then stroked his bare cheek. His skin was soft, but a little grainy where he was starting to get stubble. She delighted in every texture. Touching him drowned out her other senses.
“You face feels nice,” she said. She peeled off more strips of latex and makeup.
“Thanks.”
“You touch me.”
Seth peeled away lumps of latex and putty, and then touched the bare half of her face. His fingers sent shivers down to her feet and back up again.
Jenny’s hands circled around Seth’s face, to the back of his head.
“Seth—” she said, and then he kissed her. She held his head there and kissed his mouth over and over, as she’d imagined doing just after he healed her dog. Their fangs clicked together each time. The tip of his tongue slipped into her mouth, and Jenny wanted to scream with delight.
“Get rid of these.” He pulled the fangs from his mouth. Then he pulled the fangs from hers, and she kissed his fingers as he did it. Then they were on each other again, Jenny kissing him hard, Seth’s hands inside her cloak, all over her dress. She wanted to take off the dress and discover how his hands felt on her naked body.
“Seth,” she gasped when she stopped for air. “We could do anything.” Her voice dropped to a low, drunken whisper. “We could have sex.”
Then she turned, leaned over the edge of the hay trailer, and puked out a huge amount of apple cider. It splattered on her dress and boots, and some of it got on Seth.
“Uh,” Seth said, “Maybe not tonight.”
***
Seth pulled into Jenny’s driveway at three in the morning. He opened her door, helped her to her feet, then guided her slowly toward the front porch. Rocky gave a welcoming yowl that made Seth jump.
The porch light flickered on, and Jenny’s dad came out. He hadn’t shaved in days, and was drinking a tall Pabst Blue Ribbon. According to Seth’s father, he was the best mechanic, repairman and general contractor in town, when he wasn’t drinking.
“Jenny!” he said. “Where you been?”
“Uggh,” Jenny said. Seth helped her onto the first step.
“She’s not feeling great,” Seth said.
“Wonder why that might be.” Jenny’s dad looked warily at Seth, and at Seth’s car, as he stepped down to take under her other arm, so they could both walk her up the stairs. Seth noticed how carefully the man avoided Jenny’s bare hands and head.
“This way.” Jenny’s dad led them into a living room that seemed cluttered and low-ceilinged to Seth. They lay Jenny on the couch. “You need anything?” he asked her. “Water?”
“Uggh,” Jenny replied. “My stomach is…haunted…”
Her dad looked over at Seth. “Let’s you and me go outside.”
Seth followed him to the front porch, where he lit a Winston and hacked a couple of times.
“What did she have tonight?” he asked.
“Just apple cider,” Seth said. “Lots of cider.”
“No liquor? Pills?” He eyeballed Seth. “Coke?”
“No, sir,” Seth said. “Just cider, I promise. I tried to make her slow down—”
“All right. And just what do you mean taking my daughter out someplace to get her drunk?”
“It was just a Halloween party. She wanted to go.”
“Your daddy in town, son?”
“No, sir. He’s in Florida right now.”
“What I figured. You had my little girl up at your house?”
“No, sir. Just a haunted house and a party.”
“Well, Jonathan, you sure are lucky. You coulda got yourself killed tonight.”
“I wouldn’t hurt Jenny.” Seth wanted to
tell him not to call him Jonathan, because he hated being called that, but he was pretty sure this wasn’t the time to mention it.
“She mighta hurt you.” Mr. Morton shook his head. “Now, Jonathan, I been around this town a while, and I understand some things. Like I understand if a Barrett boy goes around with a girl from the south side of town, he’s only looking for fun. I happen to know your daddy some, which is why I ain’t running you off with my twelve-gauge. Yet.”
“Yes, sir,” Seth told him. “I want you to know I really do like Jenny. A lot. I’d like to keep seeing her.”
“It don’t matter. Your family wouldn’t stand for it. You gotta know that.”
“I don’t care what my parents think,” Seth said.
“That’s easy for a boy to say. Your parents got plans for you, and sooner or later you’ll fall in line. That’s what Barretts do.”
Seth felt a flash of anger, but kept quiet. He didn’t want to get any further on her dad’s bad side.
“Now, I’m saying this for your sake and hers,” Mr. Morton continued. “There’s no good can come of you two running around. Somebody’s gonna get hurt. Wish it weren’t true, but that’s how it is. So maybe it’s best if you just get back in your fancy little Roadster there, Mr. Jonathan Seth Barrett the Fourth, and head on back to that house your great-granddaddy’s bank built, and don’t bother Jenny again.”
Seth glanced in at Jenny, asleep on the couch, her face still zombie-green with the makeup. Then he walked down the porch steps. He stopped and looked back at Jenny’s dad, intending to say something daring about how he wasn’t going to let anyone stop him from seeing Jenny. But the older man just looked at him coolly, and Seth’s nerves withered.
“Go on, now,” he told Seth.
Seth climbed into his car. Rocky gave a sad yowl at Seth’s departure, and Mr. Morton looked toward the shed.
“Coulda sworn that dog was three-legged,” Jenny’s dad muttered, and he stomped out his cigarette butt. “Getting old.”
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