Case File 13

by J. Scott Savage

  Cody grinned. “You want to fight, Nick the Stick? Bring it on. I’ll even fight you with one hand.”

  Nick had been hoping Cody would release Carter to take a swing at him. But the bigger boy kept his left hand clamped around Carter’s neck as he made a fist with his right. Could the three of them take the bully together? Nick thought there might be a chance if they all rushed him at the same time. But Angelo was holding his book in front of him like he couldn’t decide whether to stay or run. And Carter was looking more and more dazed by the second.

  “What’s the matter, Snow White?” Cody chortled. “Did you lose your seven dwarves?”

  Nick couldn’t remember later what made him do it. Maybe it was the way Carter’s eyes were rolling back in his head. Maybe it was the idea of Cody trying to ruin what was supposed to be a great Halloween. Or maybe it was just all the movies he’d seen where the hero is backed into a corner and the only way to save his friends is by ramming the stake into the vampire’s heart, or shooting the werewolf with a silver bullet.

  In this case, his silver bullet was Carter’s candy bar, lying on the sidewalk. One minute Nick was standing there, fists clenched in anger, and the next minute he had scooped the chocolate mess off the sidewalk and smashed it in the bully’s face.

  What happened after that took place so quickly no one could say exactly how it occurred. Stunned by the unexpected Snickers bar offensive, Cody released Carter’s neck. Either Carter made an amazingly quick recovery, or he’d been faking a little. As soon as Cody released his grip, Carter’s feet hit the ground running. Apparently spurred into action by Carter’s retreat, Angelo tucked his book under his arm and let his long legs carry him back down the street.

  Nick might very well have stood there—frozen in place by the shock of what he’d done until Cody beat him to a pulp—if Carter hadn’t come back for him. As it was, Carter was nearly too late. The pull of his friend yanking on his arm, and his voice screaming, “Run, you crazy man! Run!” shook Nick out of his trance just as Cody wiped the chocolate from his face. Nick had one quick glimpse of Cody’s hate-filled, bloodshot eyes—which really did look just like Frankenstein’s monster—and then he was running for his life.

  Something caught at his collar, yanking him backward, and he thought he was a goner until his shirt ripped all the way down his back. Ahead of them, Angelo waved his arms, yelling, “Faster! He’s right behind you!”

  Beside Nick, Carter was running as fast as he could, but he was also laughing so hard, tears were squirting out of his eyes. “Can’t…believe it,” he gasped. “Chocolate…right…in the…face.”

  For his part, Nick couldn’t believe what he’d done either. “He’s…gonna kill…me,” he puffed.

  Carter nodded, holding his stomach as he ran. “Totally…worth…it.”

  Carter’s humor was contagious. By the time they caught up with Angelo, both he and Nick were busting a gut, trying to run and laugh at the same time. Cody was twenty or thirty feet behind and losing steam fast. Frankenstein was big, but at least he wasn’t quick.

  “Come on,” Angelo said, shaking his head as if he couldn’t understand either of them. “If we cut over Dinosaur Hill, we can get back home before he gets there.”

  “Don’t worry.” Carter dropped into a slow jog. “When we run into him again, Nick can fight him off with a Twinkie.”

  Carter caught Nick’s eyes, and the two of them burst into gales of laughter all over again.

  By the time they split up to go to their own houses, all three boys were covered with dust. Dinosaur Hill Park was a great shortcut, but it was a steep climb up a dirt trail. As the adrenaline wore off, Nick’s worry came back. Frankenstein would never forgive him for what he’d done, and having his Halloween candy taken might be the least of his worries.

  As he walked up his lawn, the front door swung open. His first thought was that Cody had beaten him back and somehow gotten into his house. But it wasn’t Frankenstein standing in the doorway. It was his mother. She had an anxious look on her face.

  “Where have you been?” Mom asked, pulling him through the door. “I drove to the school looking for you.”

  Nick considered telling her about Frankenstein, but decided it would be better to let it go for now. “Carter, Angelo, and I cut through the park.”

  “Well, come inside and get cleaned up,” she said. “I need you to pack a suitcase.”

  “A suitcase?” Nick froze in the entryway. “Why? Where are we going?”

  His mother pushed him toward the bathroom. “Your great-aunt Lenore passed away last night. Look at you, you’re filthy. What happened to your shirt? And what’s that all over your hands?”

  “Aunt who?” Nick had never heard of any Lenore.

  “Lenore Braithwaite. She’s your father’s aunt. You haven’t seen her since you were a baby. But she died last night unexpectedly, and we’re flying out for the funeral.”

  Great-aunt? Flying? None of this made sense to Nick. But one thought suddenly rose to the top of his mind. “When?” he asked, panic filling his voice. “When is the funeral? And where?”

  “Sunday afternoon. In a small town outside Baton Rouge, Louisiana.”

  “Louisiana?” Nick froze. “But Sunday’s Halloween!”

  Lines creased his mother’s forehead. “I’m sorry.” She sighed with a frown. “I really am. But I’m afraid you’ll have to miss trick-or-treating this year.”

  By Saturday morning, Nick was hoarse from begging his parents. But none of his pleading had done a bit of good.

  “Angelo’s mom says I can stay with them. That way I won’t have to miss school.”

  His mother, who was walking around the house closing blinds and checking to make sure the windows were all latched, stopped and put her hands on her hips. “I know how choked up you’d be to fall behind on your homework. Especially your math and science.”

  Nick swallowed. How had she known?

  “We’ll be back by Tuesday. Missing a day of classes won’t kill you. I’ll bet your friends would even be willing to pick up your assignments. And you can get a lot of your back work done on the plane.”

  Realizing that arguing with her was a lost cause, Nick walked out the front door to try his father.

  “Dad,” he said, handing his father a duffel bag full of shoes. “Did you ever really, really want something?”

  Piling the duffel in the back of their car, between a rolling suitcase and a suit bag, his father seemed to give the question serious consideration. Finally, Nick thought, one of his parents was ready to see reason.

  “Just yesterday, I really, really wanted a roast beef sandwich with brown mustard and lots of Bermuda onions. But when I checked the lunch your mom packed, it was chicken salad on raisin bread. It turned out to be almost as good as the roast beef, though. And there was a Ding Dong for dessert. So it all worked out in the end.”

  Nick rolled his eyes and groaned. He knew his dad was kidding him, but this wasn’t a laughing matter. “Think about when you were my age. Wasn’t there ever one thing you wanted so bad you knew you would die if you didn’t get it?”

  Dad turned and leaned against the back of the car. “I know how much this Halloween means to you,” he said, folding his arms across his chest.

  Nick shook his head. “If you did, you wouldn’t make me go to some stupid funeral for an aunt I’ve never even heard of.”

  His father put up a hand. “Whoa there, do you really think your mother and I are making you come with us just to be mean?”

  “It seems like it.”

  “You might not remember your great-aunt. But trust me, she remembered you. The day Lenore found out your mom was pregnant with you, she mailed out a check for a thousand dollars to help with the hospital bills. She wouldn’t let us pay her back, either. Every year, on your birthday, she sent another thousand dollars to go toward your college fund.”

  Nick stared at his father, amazed. “Is she rich or something?”

  “No. She j
ust cared about you. She said she always felt the two of you shared a special connection. Over the years, we’ve sent her pictures and updates. She used to talk about coming here, and we kept promising to take you there. But now…” Dad chewed his lower lip. “I think it would mean a lot to her to know you came to her funeral.”

  Nick wanted to tell his dad how much wearing the zombie costume with his friends meant to him, but he bit back the words and swallowed hard. “How come I’ve never heard of her before now?”

  At first Nick didn’t think his father was going to answer. He stared up into the sky. But then he nodded as though coming to a decision. “The thing is, Nick, your aunt Lenore has always been a little…peculiar.”

  “What do you mean peculiar?” Nick asked. “Like, crazy or something?” Why in the world would his parents want him to go to the funeral of a crazy aunt?

  “Not crazy. And not peculiar in a bad way. It’s just that Lenore was raised in a different place and time than us. Some of those small bayou towns…well, they look at the world a little differently than we do out here. They believe different things. Your mother and I thought it would be better if we waited until you were older before you were exposed to all that.”

  Nick had no idea what his dad was talking about. But it was clear he was going on the trip, whether he liked it or not.

  “You know, you could always take your costume with you,” Dad said. “I’m sure they go trick-or-treating in Louisiana, too.”

  “It wouldn’t be the same,” Nick said. Looking across the yard, he saw Angelo and Carter waiting for him up the street. They looked as depressed as he felt. Leaving his dad to finish with the car, he walked to his friends.

  “Any luck?” Angelo asked—his big brown eyes hopeful.

  “Nah.” Nick kicked the curb with the toe of his sneaker. “I have to go with them.” The truth was, he felt like bawling, but he didn’t want to let his friends see him cry.

  “We won’t go trick-or-treating without you,” Carter blurted. “We’ll just stay home, and…you know…watch scary movies or something.”

  Angelo looked at Carter like he was crazy. But then he nodded. “It wouldn’t be fair to go without you. Especially since you made the costumes and everything.”

  “Are you kidding?” Nick glared at his friends. “You think I’m going to let all that work go to waste? It’s bad enough that I can’t go trick-or-treating. It would suck rocks if I knew you guys were sitting around on Halloween night too.”

  Angelo glanced at Carter and they both dropped their eyes.

  “I mean it,” Nick said, balling up his fists. They were his best friends in the world, but he would punch them both in the nose if they didn’t quit talking like that. “Have your parents take a ton of pictures. And scare a bunch of little kids for me.”

  Carter grinned. “We’ll scare ’em so bad they’ll have nightmares for a month.”

  “I brought this for you to read on the plane,” Angelo said, holding out a book.

  Nick read the cover. “‘A Brief History of Voodoo’?”

  Angelo nodded. “That stuff’s supposed to be big around New Orleans. It’s all about voodoo dolls and voodoo queens. I think it’s even got some stuff about zombies in it.”

  “Thanks,” Nick said, taking the book. “This is awesome.”

  Angelo elbowed Carter. “Didn’t you have something too?”

  “Huh? Oh, right.” Carter reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag of beef jerky. “This is for you to eat on the trip. I hear airplane food stinks.”

  As Nick took the bag, a piece of jerky fell out of a small opening at the top.

  Carter’s face went red. “Sorry, I got kind of hungry on the way over.”

  Just then, Nick’s dad closed the back of the car, and his mother came out of the house. “Guess I better go.”

  “Be cool,” Angelo said.

  Nick started backing toward his house. “Look out for Frankenstein.”

  “I’ll bring a couple of Three Musketeers in case we see him,” Carter said, sounding choked up.

  “Nah. Go with Milky Ways. They have nougat and caramel.” Nick turned away quickly, clutching the book and the jerky. He couldn’t remember feeling this horrible in his life. He hoped his friends had a great time trick-or-treating, but he knew it was going to be his worst Halloween ever.

  Carter was right. The airplane food was terrible. His ham sandwich tasted like sliced armpit slathered with toe jam. And the in-flight movie had lots of smooching and no monsters anywhere. Not that it mattered. As soon as they rose above the clouds, his mom made him start catching up on his homework. But his mind wasn’t on math. Instead, he kept thinking about what his father had said. Your aunt Lenore has always been a little…peculiar.

  What did peculiar mean? Had she been horribly disfigured? He imagined a gray-haired old woman with an extra eye in the middle of her head, and teeth growing out of her nose. Or maybe she killed small animals and lit empty houses on fire. But he couldn’t imagine his parents staying in touch with a woman who had potential serial killer traits. And he was pretty sure he’d remember a picture of an aunt with an extra eye.

  Looking up from his math problems, he saw that his father was watching the movie. His mother had her eyes closed and was snoring softly. Moving carefully, so as not to wake his mom, Nick slipped his textbook into his backpack and pulled out the voodoo book Angelo had given him.

  Flipping though the introduction, he saw it had been written by an anthropologist from a big university. That surprised him. Most of Angelo’s books—on topics like real-life vampires, the existence of Big Foot, or true ghost stories—seemed to be written by people whose only claim to fame was that they’d seen a creature of some kind. Did that mean there really was something to this voodoo stuff? Halfway through the book was a section on Louisiana voodoo. He quickly turned to that chapter.

  For the rest of the flight, Nick lost himself in stories of charms and potions, curses and favors. He read about Marie Laveau, a New Orleans voodoo queen from the 1930s. Her power was supposed to be so strong that she overthrew all the other voodoo queens in the area and was able to earn a living as an oracle, making powders that were supposed to cure illnesses or destroy a person’s enemies. Some of the voodoo queens the book described helped people. But others specialized in placing curses, causing their enemies excruciating pain, and even worse.

  His eyes lit up when he thought he saw the word zombie. But it turned out “Li Grand Zombi” was actually some kind of serpent god who helped the voodoo queens tell the future using snakes. Still, a giant serpent who could tell the future was pretty cool.

  He was reading about gris-gris—amulets that could bring luck or protect the wearer from evil—when the pilot came on the intercom to say they’d be landing in a few minutes.

  Nick quickly put away his book. But he couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d read. Once they’d picked up their luggage and got their rental car—a boring blue sedan instead of the red Mustang convertible Nick wanted—he worked up the courage to ask his parents what he’d been wondering. “Was Aunt Lenore a voodoo queen?”

  “What?” Mom turned to stare at him over the back of her seat. “Where would you get such a crazy idea?”

  “Well.” Nick stalled. His mom didn’t always approve of Angelo’s books and it might not be such a good idea to tell her he’d been reading one of them instead of doing his math. “Dad said we never visited Aunt Lenore because she was peculiar. So I just thought that maybe…”

  Mom turned to Dad. “You called your aunt peculiar?”

  Dad gave Nick a thanks-for-nothing glare in the rearview mirror and shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t mean voodoo-queen peculiar. I meant throw-spilled-salt-over-your-shoulder-or-you’ll-have-bad-luck peculiar. You said yourself that she had some pretty strange ideas.”

  “Maybe so, but I didn’t tell my son his recently deceased great-aunt was ‘peculiar.’” Mom looked over her shoulder. “And where did you hear about voo
doo anyway?”

  Nick gulped. “Maybe in a movie or something?”

  “A movie.” She didn’t look convinced, but at least she didn’t push the subject.

  Grateful to be let off the hook, Nick stared out the window. Louisiana was a lot different from California. For one thing it was hotter—even at the end of October—and much more humid. Sweat began forming under his hair and down his back as soon as they stepped out of the airport. For another thing, there were a lot more trees, and they all had some strange grayish green stuff hanging from their branches.

  There was water everywhere he looked. Not blue water like the lakes and ocean he was used to, but green murky stuff that looked like something the creature from the black lagoon might crawl out of. Occasionally he could see part of what appeared to be a river to his left.

  “Are there alligators out there?” he asked his dad.

  “Tons of them. I hear some kids even ride them to school like horses.” Dad seemed cheerful to have the subject changed from Aunt Lenore. “You can eat them too. They’re supposed to be delicious with a little horseradish. You want some alligator for dinner?”

  “No, thanks,” Nick said. What he wanted was a hamburger and french fries.

  “Or you could try a mess of crayfish. You pull off their heads and suck out the juice.”

  “That’s disgusting.” Mom wrinkled her nose. “You can have all the alligator and crayfish heads you want, buster. But if I don’t get a nice juicy steak, somebody’s sleeping on the couch tonight.”

  “Yes, Captain my Captain.” Dad snapped off a quick salute with his right hand while keeping his left hand on the steering wheel.

  Mom punched Dad on the shoulder. But by the way she giggled, Nick could tell she wasn’t really mad.

  Nick grinned. Some of his friends thought his parents were strange, joking around like a pair of kids. But he liked it. He didn’t always know whether his dad was kidding or telling the truth, but it was a lot better than having parents who were serious all the time.