by Joe McGee
“See anything?” Parker asked.
“I think it’s safe,” she said.
Lucas, Parker, and Samantha von Oppelstein peered out of the open doorway. They half suspected that at any moment the haunted mustache was going to drop from the sky and eat their faces.
Nothing happened.
Samantha von Oppelstein stepped out first. She spun this way and that, waiting for an attack. Then came Parker, and finally, Lucas.
“Where do you think it went?” Samantha von Oppelstein asked.
“Probably got tired of waiting and went looking for an easier victim,” Parker said.
“Parker, your mustache,” said Lucas.
Parker’s fingers found the empty spot above his lip. “I forgot! It fell off back by Bockius’s grave.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter now, right?” said Samantha von Oppelstein. “We want the mustache to follow us. We need to lure it to Hill Crest Manor. Between your lip and that tin of Handsome Hank’s, we’ll be sure to get its attention.”
“Come on,” said Lucas. “Let’s get our bikes.”
7
They scrambled over the wall and back to the sign where they’d left their bikes, where Samantha von Oppelstein had stepped out of the woods and scared them. Only this time, the thought that the haunted mustache might jump out had them on edge. The tops of the trees swayed in the wind. The rain wasn’t far off.
They walked down the centerline of the road, three across. Parker and Lucas walked their bikes while Samantha von Oppelstein tossed the container of salt up into the air and caught it. The north road rarely ever had traffic on it, especially not at night, and especially especially not on this night, when the curfew was in effect.
“How can we be sure that it’ll find us?” Lucas asked. “Do you think it can leave the graveyard?”
“Now that it has targeted us, it’ll be easier for it to find us,” said Samantha von Oppelstein.
“See?” said Lucas. “This is exactly why we can’t wait until next year. I’ll just be waiting all year for it to return and come after us.”
“The book really said that?” Parker asked. “That it can find us once it’s haunted us?”
“Yep,” she said. “What would you two do without me?” She stopped throwing the salt and held her mustache up in front of her lip. “And besides, you have the Handsome Hank’s. It’s going to smell that from a mile away.”
They soon found themselves on the edge of town, and still there was no sign of the haunted mustache. They turned the corner at the Wild Hunt Pub and Restaurant and walked down the middle of First Street. The dirt driveway to Hill Crest Manor was at the end of First Street, closed off from vehicle traffic with a rusted chain.
Samantha von Oppelstein pointed the salt container at a streetlight halfway down.
“I think you should stand there, Parker,” she said. “With the Handsome Hank’s open.”
“Then what?” Parker asked. He did not like this idea.
“Then, when it appears, you jump on your bike and ride for the manor,” she said.
“And we’ll be right with you,” said Lucas. “If we were able to outrun it in the graveyard, there’s no way that mustache can catch us on our bikes.”
Parker reluctantly agreed, and he soon found himself standing under the streetlight. His bike rested against the pole, and he held the open tin of Handsome Hank’s mustache wax in front of him.
Ten minutes passed.
“How long do I have to wait here?” Parker whispered.
Lucas and Samantha von Oppelstein waited just out of sight, across the street.
“Until the mustache shows up,” said Lucas.
“Try whistling,” said Samantha von Oppelstein.
“I’m not whistling!” Parker said.
“You have to draw attention to yourself!” said Samantha von Oppelstein. “Just whistle!”
“I can’t whistle!” said Parker. “Okay?”
“You can’t whistle?” Samantha von Oppelstein asked. “I thought everyone could whistle.”
“Well, I can’t!” said Parker. “I’d like to see one of you stand here, holding—”
“Parker, Samantha, look!” said Lucas.
The haunted mustache drifted out of the darkness and floated there, in the middle of the street, shimmering with a ghostly blue light. It was now blocking Parker’s path to the Hill Crest Manor road.
“Guys?” Parker said, slowly standing his bike up.
“There goes that plan,” Samantha von Oppelstein said.
The mustache lifted the ends of its dirty old whiskers and tested the air, like a snake does with its tongue. It smelled the Handsome Hank’s and locked on to the boy holding it! The boy with the bare lip! It had its prey in sight.
The mustache charged forward like a raging bull.
Parker screamed and leapt onto his bike.
“This way!” shouted Lucas. He jumped the curb and pedaled down the street, with Samantha von Oppelstein sitting on his handlebars.
Parker shoved the tin into his pocket and clamped both hands on the grips, leaned over the handlebars, and propelled himself forward as fast as possible.
“The bridge!” Samantha von Oppelstein yelled. “Ghosts can’t cross running water!”
“Are you sure?” Parker asked. “How do you know?”
“I read it in Lester’s Lore and Legends!” she said.
“I hope you’re right,” Lucas said.
“Me too,” she said.
“That’s not comforting,” said Lucas.
The two bikes raced through town as the first drops of rain began to pelt them. Distant bolts of lightning cut across the night sky, and the crack of thunder rattled windows in shop fronts and homes.
Still, the mustache chased after them.
They passed under Mayor Stine’s curfew banner and past the angry eyes of the Wolver Hollow Public Library. When they reached the small town square, and the bronze statue of the town’s founder, Francois Gildebrand Soufflé, Lucas cut a hard left. He jumped the curb and pushed through the wet grass.
“Faster!” Samantha von Oppelstein hollered. “The bridge is just ahead!” The dull, red covered bridge loomed ahead of them. Parker glanced back over his shoulder. The haunted mustache was only a few feet behind him!
“We’re not going to make it!” he screamed.
“We’re going to make it!” Lucas hollered back.
The covered bridge over Wolf Creek was long and dark and high above the water. The only light came from the streetlights at either end of it.
Their bike tires hit the warped boards with a thump, thump, thump, thump.
“We made it!” Samantha von Oppelstein shouted.
Lucas skidded to a stop halfway down the bridge, and Parker nearly crashed into the wall in his desperate attempt to escape the mustache.
But Samantha von Oppelstein had been right. The mustache could not cross running water. It stopped just at the end of the bridge. Even though it didn’t have eyes, Parker could feel it watching him.
8
Samantha von Oppelstein hopped down from Lucas’s handlebars. Her combat boots landed on the warped boards with a hollow thud. Lucas flipped his kickstand down, and Parker closed his eyes and counted to three. Any second, the haunted mustache would race across the bridge, smother their faces, and latch on to them like some face-hugging parasite.
But the haunted mustache still did not follow them. The rain was light but steady. It pattered atop the covered bridge. Lucas let out a big sigh of relief.
“I couldn’t pedal anymore,” he said.
“See?” Samantha von Oppelstein said. “Told you ghosts can’t cross running water.”
Parker just nodded. He needed to get his breath back. He’d never pedaled so fast in his life.
“The only problem is that we’re cut off,” Lucas said. “The only other way to Hill Crest Manor is through the woods, and the trail is on that”—he pointed toward the mustache—“side of the creek.”
Parker stretched his hands upward, trying to shake off the cramp that was forming. He did not take his eyes off the mustache. “Robby Dugan told me his brother and his friends were building a footbridge just north of the mill. Said they use it for fishing. I’ll bet we could cross there.”
“But our bikes?” Lucas asked.
“We’ll have to leave them at the creek side,” Parker said. “I don’t think we can cross the creek with them. We’ll have to go by foot.” Parker held up the tin of Handsome Hank’s. “Get a good whiff,” he said to the mustache.
It leapt forward but stopped, as if it had banged into an invisible wall. No matter how badly it wanted that mustache wax, and the lip of the boy holding that can, it could not cross that water.
“What are you doing?” Lucas asked.
“Just making sure,” Parker said. “Come and get it, mustache.” He shook the tin of Handsome Hank’s at the haunted mustache.
“Parker, no!” Samantha von Oppelstein said.
“What?” Parker asked. “Like you said, ghosts can’t cross running water. See?”
He pointed back at the mustache, which had suddenly drifted a foot inside the bridge, tapping the boards with the ends of its filthy whiskers.
“Unless invited!” said Samantha von Oppelstein. “Which you just did!”
Thump. Thump. Thump.
“What?” asked Parker. “All I said was… Oh.” He slapped his forehead. “ ‘Come and get it.’ ”
Thump… thump… thump. Thump. Thump.
Lucas hopped on his bike, and Samantha von Oppelstein slid back onto the handlebars.
“Hurry!” Lucas said. He pedaled down the remainder of the dark bridge with Parker on his own bike right next to him.
Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump went the mustache. It ran after them, using the ends of its coarse hair like pointed insect legs.
They shot out of the covered bridge, and Parker cut right.
“We’ll lose it in the junkyard!” he said.
“If we make it there!” said Lucas. He wiped the rain out of his eyes.
“We’re going to die!” Samantha von Oppelstein screamed.
Lucas skidded around the corner, cutting between the train yard and the baseball field.
The mustache reached the end of the bridge and leapt into the air, flying after them. It swatted at them with its left curl, then its right, trying to grab Parker off of his bike. Something both slimy and bristly brushed across the back of his neck.
“Faster!” Parker shouted. “Faster, it’s almost got us!”
“I can’t go any faster!” Lucas yelled.
They splashed through puddles and kicked up stones and raced along the tall wooden fence of the town junkyard. Parker turned onto the muddy dirt-and-gravel entrance to the junkyard and stopped at the chain-link gate. Lucas pulled up behind him, nearly dumping Samantha von Oppelstein face-first onto the ground. She caught herself on the fence just in time.
“Go, go, go,” Parker said, ditching his bike.
The gate was chained and padlocked, but there was just enough room for them to squeeze through. Samantha von Oppelstein hurried through first, then Parker, and finally Lucas. Parker and Lucas backpedaled, falling over each other, stumbling away from the mustache. Samantha von Oppelstein stepped forward and poured a line of salt between them and the front gate.
When the mustache reached it… it stopped.
It floated there, studying the salt, studying the chain-link entrance, and watching the kids. It reached out and shook the chains that held the two gates from opening. It rattled them hard enough to shake the entire front fence section.
The stench of the haunted mustache was enough to make them sick. It was a powerful, pungent smell of death. It was so bad that it wafted right over the gross smell of the garbage in the junkyard.
“It can’t pass through!” Lucas said. He pinched his nose shut.
“The salt,” Samantha von Oppelstein said. She gagged.
“Good thinking!” said Parker. He also squeezed his nostrils closed.
And then the mustache moved to one side. It slipped the end of one whiskery curl through the chain-link gate and began to undo the bolts that held the whole hinge together.
Parker, Lucas, and Samantha von Oppelstein stepped away from the gate.
“Guys?” Samantha von Oppelstein said. “I hope you have a new plan.”
“I’m fresh out of plans,” said Parker.
“And I think we’re fresh out of luck,” said Lucas.
The nut turned loose and then fell to the ground. The washer and bolt followed, and the entire front gate sagged slightly. Three more bolts, and the whole thing would fall in on one side, breaking the line of salt that kept the mustache out of the junkyard.
It floated down and wrapped one curl around a stick, holding it like a pencil. The kids watched in shock as it scratched something in the dirt.
Your lip is mine.
And then it added a smiley face.
When it was done, it dropped the stick and began to loosen the next bolt.
9
Parker grabbed Lucas and Samantha von Oppelstein and pulled them with him as the second bolt hit the dirt. The gate groaned and hung slightly askew. Two more bolts, and it would fall inward. And then the haunted mustache could float right inside.
“Let’s try and lose it in all of this junk!” Parker said.
They jogged deeper into the junkyard. The place was a towering collection of old, broken things, abandoned appliances, scrap metal, and ripped-up furniture balanced very dangerously on either side of them. They splashed through the deep puddles without even thinking about it. The only thing they were thinking of was getting away from that mustache.
“Gross,” said Lucas, dry-heaving. “I think I’m going to puke.”
“Doesn’t smell worse than that mustache!” Parker said.
The whole place stank like rotten meat, old vegetables, and moldy scraps of who knows what. But Parker was right, the mustache smelled even worse.
Beady eyes watched them from the dark corners, and thick, pink rat tails slipped out of sight as the kids passed.
“Why are there so many rats in this town?” Lucas groaned.
“There’s got to be a back way out of here, right?” Parker asked. “Like a loose board, or a hole in the fence or something?”
“And what if there isn’t?” asked Samantha von Oppelstein.
“Then I guess it was nice knowing you,” said Parker.
The front gate crashed to the ground.
“This way,” Samantha von Oppelstein said. She pulled Parker and Lucas to the left.
The mustache drifted between the piles of garbage and turned left.
“Hurry up,” Parker said. “It’s coming!”
“Right or left?” she asked.
“Right!” said Lucas.
They hurried to the right, and the mustache turned after them.
They found themselves in the back corner of the junkyard. On one side, the tall, wooden fence. On the other side, a mountain of garbage. There was no hole, no loose board, no way to climb the fence.
And the mustache knew it.
It floated toward them, dragging that stick along scraps of metal in a slow, deliberate tap tap tap.
Parker, Lucas, and Samantha von Oppelstein backed up until they could not back up anymore. They stood together, pressed up against an old, rusted car. The trunk was open, filled with puddles of oily rainwater and scattering cockroaches.
Parker looked at the open trunk door.
“When I say ‘duck,’ ” he whispered, “dive for the ground.”
Parker reached into his pocket and pulled out the tin of Handsome Hank’s mustache wax. He popped the lid off, dug into the paste with two fingers, and smeared it across his front lip.
“Two-for-one special!” he said. He positioned himself directly in front of the open trunk. He pointed to his lip and stuck out his tongue.
The haunted mustache d
ropped the stick and threw itself at Parker’s face.
“DUCK!” he screamed.
Parker, Lucas, and Samantha von Oppelstein dove to the dirt, and the mustache passed over their heads and into the open car trunk. Parker leapt up and slammed the hatch closed before the mustache could fly back out.
“Will that work?” Lucas asked.
“Well, it couldn’t get through the crypt door in the graveyard, right?” Parker asked. “So my guess is that it can’t pass through solid things.”
“Now what?” said Samantha von Oppelstein.
“Now we go to the police,” said Parker. “Or Mr. Noffler.”
“And tell them what?” asked Lucas. “That we have a haunted mustache trapped in a trunk in the junkyard?”
“Yeah?” said Parker.
“When we’re breaking curfew and running around town?” said Samantha von Oppelstein. “That’ll go over well.”
“We’ve got to tell someone,” Parker said. “We have to get that mustache to Hill Crest Manor before sunrise and put this ghost to rest once and for all!”
Frantic thumps and bangs and hammering sounded from inside the trunk as the mustache tried to force its way out.
“Let’s figure it out on the move, okay?” Lucas said. “I don’t think standing around here discussing it is the smartest thing to do.”
They picked up their pace and hurried toward the front gate. They’d just reached their bikes when a car horn blared from behind them.
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPP!
They froze and then, ever so slowly, turned around. Headlights flicked on, nearly blinding them. The low growl of the rusted car’s engine revved and roared like an angry beast.
It was ready to race toward them, and the haunted mustache was in the driver’s seat.
10
They scrambled for their bikes as the engine roared. The old car lurched forward. Tires sprayed up mud and gravel as the car fishtailed down the road toward them.
Parker and Lucas, with Samantha von Oppelstein on the handlebars, tore back down Granite Street, away from the junkyard.