Book of the Dead

by Michael Northrop

  He closed his door and poured a small bag of glass marbles out onto the desk. He had to start somewhere, and he heard Todtman’s words from that first night: “All of them can do certain things. Move small objects, and so on.”

  It took him a while, but soon he could roll a marble across the desk and back again. Even after all he’d seen, it was still amazing to feel his pulse rev and see the little blue orb start to roll on its own, and then to change directions. His whole life he could barely move his own body — now he could do things even Luke’s Olympians couldn’t.

  He grasped the amulet tighter and tried for two at once. For a second it worked, but then a small crack appeared in the second one and — prakk! — it fractured all the way through. Alex looked back at the first one, still clutching the amulet tightly. It shot straight forward, pinged against the wall, and dropped down behind the desk.

  The marbles weren’t the only casualty. He released the amulet and shook out his hand. The wings had pressed deep crescents into his skin, and now his head hurt. He put the remaining marbles back in the bag.

  His head cleared after dinner, and he practiced some more. He couldn’t quite open and close the window, but he could lock and unlock it. He was getting better, but before long his headache was back. Is it worse this time? he wondered as he went to the bathroom to look for aspirin. He reached for the handle of the medicine cabinet.

  He missed.

  He squinted at the little handle.

  He saw two of them.

  It was worse. Definitely worse.

  He took three aspirin. He saw six.

  Before bed, he decided to use the scarab for one more thing. He wanted to feel that electric quickening one more time. And the urge to see if he could set the alarm clock was irresistible.

  Why didn’t Mom tell me about this? he wondered as he stared at the little buttons. He’d been picking at the question like a scab. He couldn’t let it go. She wore it every day, so why did she leave it behind? He managed to change the hour and was working on the minutes when he was blindsided by a new possibility: Did she know she wasn’t coming back? An ugly spatter of words snuck up on him, as if whispered into his ear: He needs to feed. There was a thick crunch from the alarm clock and the numbers blinked out.

  Alex was sitting in the living room, resting his throbbing head on his arm. Another beautiful summer day, and another feeling of overwhelming helplessness.

  “Enjoy the sun!” Adele said loudly as she passed by Alex.

  “Some fresh air will take that frown off your face,” added his uncle Gerry.

  Alex looked at them. (A) you don’t know me at all, he thought. And (B) no it won’t. My mom is still missing!

  He didn’t say any of that, though, just told them to have a good time at the farmers’ market and picked up their discarded Post. He wondered if his mom’s subscription to the Times was piling up outside their door.

  The lead story caught his attention immediately. The chaos at the museum had been knocked out of the top spot by a strange story about stolen stones. And not small stones: One of the famous lion statues had been stolen from in front of the New York Public Library overnight. One of the columns had disappeared from the old Union Square Savings Bank building, too. A few stone blocks had even been swiped from the base of the Brooklyn Bridge.

  The last one was the worst and had its own little story. “Scared to Death?” read the headline. A guard had been found dead near the bridge. The police suspected a heart attack since there wasn’t a mark on him. Alex thought of Oscar and the rest of the guards at the Met. He considered them friends.

  What if something happens to one of them?

  What if it’s because of me?

  He shook his head hard and the paper rattled in his hands, but he read on. The stone blocks from the bridge were huge and weighed tons. They reminded him of the blocks used to construct the Great Pyramid: 2.5 tons each.

  Like the other thefts, this one had involved a bogus construction project, a flatbed truck, and surprisingly few witnesses. He looked at the picture: massive stones removed like LEGO blocks. He grabbed his phone and texted Ren.

  An hour later, he met her outside the museum. “You still grounded?” he said.

  “No,” she said, “they think I’ve suffered enough.”

  Todtman let them in the staff entrance. Once they reached his office, he pointed to a box of doughnuts in the corner. “For yesterday,” he said.

  Alex perused the selection. Two sugar-covered jelly doughnuts for four hours in the sewer seemed about right to him. Ren chose a chocolate glazed. “These are so bad for your teeth!” she said between large bites.

  Then they got down to business. Todtman — who’d surprised them both by opting for a doughnut with pink sprinkles — spread a map of the city out on his desk. “You’ve seen the news, yes?” he said. “Before we talk about the subway, let’s look at what happened last night.”

  Ren and Alex crowded around as he smoothed out the map and picked up a yellow highlighter. He made a circle. “This is Forty-Second Street, the public library,” he said.

  “The lion,” said Alex.

  Another circle. “This is Union Square,” said Todtman.

  “The column,” said Ren.

  A third circle. “Brooklyn Bridge,” they all said.

  “Connected to our problem, I think,” said Todtman.

  “Ancient Egypt and big stones.” Alex nodded. “Like peanut butter and chocolate.”

  Todtman straightened up. “Now, let’s talk about the subway,” he said. “Tell me what you found.”

  Ren smiled. “We’re already talking about it.”

  She held out her hand for the highlighter. Todtman passed it to her as if he were handing a scalpel to a surgeon. She drew a line. It started near the museum, swooped downtown, past the library, through Union Square, down to the Brooklyn Bridge.

  “The downtown express,” she said.

  The others leaned in for a closer look.

  “I think you’ve earned another doughnut,” said Todtman, smiling.

  “No thanks,” said Ren. “But I’ll tell you something else.”

  “Yes?”

  “There are abandoned stations down there. Did an extra-credit report on them once.”

  Once again, Alex knew she was right. Underground chambers and mummies … like ketchup and fries.

  “We’re going there, aren’t we?” he said.

  “How else will we know if we’re right?” said Todtman with his froggy smile.

  Alex thought about it. An undead thief and a fanatical dog-headed mafioso camped out in an abandoned subway station: less smelly than the sewers but way more scary. “Should we, uh, should we not have thrown away those flashlights? They were pretty gross.”

  “Alex dropped his,” Ren volunteered.

  “I don’t think they will be hard to replace,” said Todtman. “But we will need to take something else with us. And it is quite irreplaceable.”

  He took a step to the side and opened the top drawer of his desk. Ren peeked over. “Whoa,” she said. “What’re we gonna do with those?”

  Alex felt the amulet getting warm against his chest.

  “Doors swing both ways, after all,” said Todtman. “And I think we might be able to put our problem to rest.”

  Alex would never have guessed that public transportation would be so convenient for chasing evil. They took the downtown express to the Brooklyn Bridge–City Hall stop. It was just a short distance from the old Worth Street station, which had been abandoned for decades but was still on the old maps. And the Met was full of old maps.

  “We should go to the end of the platform,” said Todtman, walking briskly in front of them.

  Ren nodded, then held out her hand so Alex could see. It was shaking.

  “We will have to wait until there are no trains coming,” said Todtman.

  “But people will see us climb down,” said Alex.

  “Probably not,” said Todtman, and gave
Alex an awkward wink. He was wearing his amulet outside his shirt now, and it bounced with each step. Alex looked at it. It was beautiful: a bright blue falcon with wings outstretched, edged in gold, and two glittering gems for eyes. The watcher.

  “Oh, right,” said Alex. He fished his own amulet out from under his T-shirt.

  They walked to the end of the platform — the farthest point from where the next train would arrive. Todtman wrapped his hand around his amulet. A moment later, everyone in the station started to peer down the tracks in the opposite direction. Todtman gestured for them to get moving. Ren carefully lowered herself down onto the tracks. The climb down was close to four feet — almost as tall as her — and she stumbled a bit at the bottom. She got a long black smudge on her new blue shirt.

  “Ah, man,” she said.

  “Don’t worry about your shirt,” said Alex.

  “Says the guy wearing jewelry.”

  “It’s not!” Alex protested. Then he squatted down, put one hand on the platform edge for balance, and jumped down onto the tracks.

  “Be careful!” whispered Todtman.

  His tone reminded Alex of the doctors. I’m not that kid anymore, he thought.

  Ren glared at him. He could see what she was thinking: Another dumb risk. “Well, watch out for the third rail, anyway,” she said. “If you touch that thing, you’re barbecue.”

  “Hurry now,” said Todtman, completing his own climb down onto the tracks.

  Surprisingly nimble for an old guy, thought Alex.

  Todtman took the lead as they hustled into the dark mouth of the tunnel and out of sight. “Backpack, please,” he said after a few more steps.

  Alex swung it off his back and unzipped it. “Why am I the pack mule, anyway?” he said.

  “We all have our talents,” said Todtman.

  Ren giggled nervously. They all grabbed flashlights. They were smaller this time, but very powerful. They cut through the murk like wannabe lightsabers.

  “Train coming,” said Todtman. “Switch off the lights and step in here. Quickly, please!”

  Todtman and Ren jumped into narrow gaps along the wall as the train approached. Alex paused to take a last look back as the tunnel began to fill with light. This is so cool, he thought. He finally cut back to join the others. But the track was an obstacle course of rails and ties and changing levels. His foot caught the edge of the deeper channel in the center of the track, and with a sharp jab of pain he turned his left ankle. His leg bent forward and his knee smacked the metal rail.

  “OW!” he said.

  “Get up!” shouted Ren. “Get off the tracks!”

  The track had begun to glow with reflected light. The ground under him was rumbling hard now. He pushed himself to his feet.

  The train’s big air horn sounded: HOOOOOONNNNKKK!

  Had the driver seen him? Could he stop the train in time? Alex took two quick hopping steps and reached the wall. He saw two indentations — and two people filling them.

  Todtman shouted something but the thunder of the train drowned it out.

  He pointed: left.

  Alex saw it now: a third shallow gap against the wall, a pit of shadow in the growing light. He lunged forward and his left leg buckled, but he regained his balance. Two more quick hobbled steps and he was there. He threw himself against the grimy wall.

  His back was to the tracks, but it was too late to turn around. With his face plastered to the wall, he couldn’t tell if any part of him was sticking out. Alex sucked in his stomach.

  The train hit like a tidal wave of noise and force. Alex’s teeth chattered and his hair was whipped around by the wind. The gap between each car sang out like a passing bullet, and for one horrifying second, Alex thought the force of the rushing air would suck him out of the pocket. Finally, the last car passed. Alex exhaled and patted himself down to make sure all his parts were still there.

  Ren glared over at him, her train-whipped hair giving her a mad scientist look. This time he knew he had it coming. He looked down at the tricky, uneven ground, his pulse pounding in his ears.

  “You idiot!” Ren yelled.

  “This way, children,” called Todtman.

  Ren walked after him, and Alex followed, limping slightly. As they continued down the tunnel, Alex’s ankle and knee began to feel better. His limp faded, his eyes adjusted, and his skull stopped vibrating. An old tunnel split off from the main one and headed deeper into darkness. “Is this it?” said Alex.

  Ren glanced at him without answering and then looked away. He could see she was still mad at him, still giving him the cold shoulder.

  “I think so,” said Todtman. He turned to look back the way they’d come. They could hear the noise of another train starting to build and see the tunnel starting to brighten. Alex didn’t want to go through that again, and Ren was thinking the same thing.

  “Let’s go,” she called, stepping into the new tunnel.

  Alex and Todtman followed. They were five feet in by the time the train passed, and Alex pressed his hands over his ears to block out its roar. The beams of their flashlights zigzagged and danced over the dried-out debris and rubble on the abandoned tracks. The new tunnel smelled like a basement. For a while, the only sound was their careful footsteps and their breathing as they sucked in the hot, damp air.

  “Doctor?” said Alex, his skin prickling with nerves.

  “Yes?”

  “That guard at the bridge …”

  “Poor man.”

  “It wasn’t a heart attack, was it?”

  “I don’t think so. More like …”

  “A soul attack?” Alex offered. “What he was going to do to us?”

  No one answered, but they all swung their flashlights around the dark tunnel. Alex’s bravado had faded along with the light, and the near miss with the train had rattled him. Now, in this dark, abandoned tunnel, he thought he was just about as scared as he could get. But then …

  “Did you hear something?” he said.

  “No,” Ren said warily. “Wait … I think I heard it this time. Like a scratch-scratch kind of thing?”

  “Yeah,” said Alex. “I don’t like it.”

  They swung their flashlights around, but the narrow beams revealed nothing. The darkness took away Alex’s sight but made him more aware of his other senses. A drop of sweat trailed down his cheek and he tracked its movement with his skin, feeling each nerve cell fire. His chest rose and fell, his breathing faster now.

  Another muffled scratch. His ears told him which direction: in front of him and a little to the left. He continued forward, and a little to the right, washing the floor with his flashlight. A few steps later, he felt something on his sneaker and kicked out reflexively. Something smacked against the tunnel wall — klack!

  He aimed his flashlight at the spot and saw a shadow slipping out of the light. His pulse pounded. The sound was all around them now, like an animal working its way through dry leaves.

  Todtman switched off his flashlight, and the tunnel got even darker.

  “What are you doing?” called Ren. “Turn it back on!”

  Instead, Todtman reached up and closed his hand around his amulet. Light began pouring out of the gaps between his fingers, weak at first and then very strong. Alex looked directly at it and was momentarily dazzled. His vision cleared.

  Scorpions.

  Everywhere.

  Alex swallowed hard. The air had a venomous tang to it. The scorpions were on the floor, on the concrete pilings, on top of the old steel rails. Their exoskeletons clicked against the tracks and pushed against the dry trash along the ground. Their stingers bobbed above them on the tips of their curled tails.

  Alex looked down. There was a small, pale scorpion a foot in front of him. He kicked at it with his sneaker and knocked it onto its back. It righted itself and resumed its march. There was another one behind it, harder to see because it was as black as the ground. No wait, there were two of those. He took a step backward and felt a crunch. He
didn’t need to look down to know what he’d stepped on.

  “Uh, Doctor?” squeaked Ren. She seemed to be the only one who could speak at the moment. Alex turned to her and saw a scorpion crest her shoulder like a triumphant mountain climber. Before he could even point, she felt the tickle and brushed it away — oblivious — like it was a loose strand of hair.

  “Ren, that was —” Alex began, but he was cut short.

  “RUN!” shouted Todtman.

  They barreled down the tracks. Alex saw a foot-high pile of old paper in front of him. He nearly plowed right through it, but at the last second he saw that it was crawling with small, pale scorpions. He leapt over it. He felt his foot slip as it pulped a scorpion. He regained his balance and kept running. His chest tightened with both effort and fear. His lungs burned.

  The beam of his flashlight bounced crazily in front of him as he ran. Todtman was behind him, and that meant the light from the amulet was, too. Where’s Ren? He looked back and saw her sticking close to Todtman. He swung his head back around just in time to avoid slamming into a metal post.

  “Look for a platform!” Todtman called out. “We need to get off the tracks. They are worse climbers than you think.”

  Alex looked around. It was true. They had eight legs like spiders, but he didn’t see any on the walls. He seriously hoped they weren’t on the ceiling, either. Up ahead, he saw it: the edge of the old Worth Street station. He sucked in a ragged breath and called, “Over here!”

  He reached the edge of the platform and found himself eye-to-claw with a scorpion so large it looked like a baby lobster. He looked the massive arachnid in the eyes: all twelve of them. Panting deeply, his face coated with sweat, he closed his hand around the amulet. The wind that comes before the rain. The scorpion went flying end over end and out of sight. He tossed his flashlight onto the platform and hoisted himself up.

  Footsteps slapped behind him, and he turned and pulled Ren up off the tracks. “Are you okay?” he huffed.