CHAPTER 10
THE LOST
Fred Simple woke late in the morning with a splitting headache, an inexplicable feeling of dread, and tremendous confusion. What day was this? Where was he? Looking around, he was somewhat comforted to find himself in the familiar setting of his old odds and ends shop, lying on the foldaway daybed. However, he couldn’t remember anything of recent events, and was fully dressed including shoes – not his usual bedtime attire, except when sleeping in the car. At least he remembered that much. But why would he be sleeping in a car?
“Professor Simple! I didn’t know you were in town!” said a voice from the doorway.
It was a little old lady. A stranger. No, not a stranger. Fred stared at her, trying to figure out who the duce she was. “Mrs. Milligan?” he finally asked, uncertainly.
“Of course. Were you expecting someone else?”
“I don’t know. Should I be?”
“I open the shop in ten minutes, same as any other morning.”
“You do?”
“Are you alright, Professor?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, get up and put that bed away unless you want me to sell it with you in it.”
“Of course,” he said dumbly, as he climbed out of the daybed, fumbled off the blankets and pillow, and unsuccessfully attempted to fold the bed. He paused for a few moments when he felt dizzy, then set to work again.
The bed remained impervious to his fumbling efforts, Mrs. Milligan noted. “Land sakes, man, let me do that; you’re all thumbs this morning.” She nudged him aside and quickly folded the daybed, after adjusting the hidden switch that allowed such activity. “Is Dooley about? I have some errands he could run for the shop.”
“Dooley?”
“Certainly Dooley.”
“Who is Dooley?”
She chuckled. “That’s too serious a question for so early in the morning. We’ve been trying to figure out who Dooley really is for most of his life, haven’t we?”
“That doesn’t answer my question, not in the least.”
Mrs. Milligan was becoming annoyed, but she continued walking from window to window, opening shades to let in the sun, getting ready to open the shop. Professor simple might have time for word games, but working people like herself didn’t. “Well, if his father doesn’t know who he is, how would I?”
“So OK, who’s his father?”
She abruptly stopped fussing with a tangled curtain chord and turned to stare at Simple. The man seemed dead serious. “You actually don’t know who Dooley is?”
“I’m feeling a little confused today, I don’t seem to remember a lot of things.”
“Dooley is your son, Fred, your only child.”
“My son?” Fred Simple stood staring dumbly at Mrs. Milligan for long moments, while things clicked together in his head. Good things. Then terrible things. Red eyes and white fangs. “Oh my God!” he said, as he slumped to the floor, his shaking legs no longer able hold up his pudgy body. “Dooley! Dooley! Dooley!”
Secrets of Goth Mountain Page 21