Chain Letter Omnibus

by Christopher Pike

Brenda turned off the hose. “Really, Ali, I think I have more dignity than that.”

  “If you do, you keep it well hidden.”

  Brenda wiped her hands on her shorts and reached for her sneakers, which were sitting on the front porch. “And what was Miss Conservative doing just before she drove over to pick up her loose friend? Enjoying carnal pleasures with her boyfriend perhaps?”

  Alison felt her face fall, although she tried her best to hold it up. “No,” she said softly. “Not really.”

  Brenda was instantly alert to the change in her tone. “Did you and Tony have a fight?” she asked, concerned.

  Alison put a hand to her head. It was handy place for it—a moment later she was wiping away a tear. “He’s mad at me,” Alison said sadly. “I don’t know—maybe I shouldn’t leave. In a way I don’t want to.”

  “That’s nonsense,” Brenda said, slinging an arm around her friend’s shoulder. “Going to NYU is a dream come true for you. Tony’s just got to grow up and understand that he doesn’t own you.”

  “But he’s right, I could go to UCLA. They have a fine drama department, and then we could still see each other.” She sniffed. “Maybe I am only thinking of myself.”

  “You have to think about yourself,” Brenda said, turning once more for her shoes. “Now, I’m going to say something and don’t take it wrong. What if you do decide to stay here, and Tony and you break up in six months?”

  “We’re not going to break up,” Alison said quickly.

  “But what if you do? People do, you know. Then what? You’ll be mad as hell at Tony and yourself for ruining your big chance. You’ll have thrown it away and gotten nothing in return. Take my advice, sister, and go to New York and find a new boyfriend there.”

  Alison shook her head. “You don’t understand. I love Tony.”

  Brenda sat to tie her shoelaces. “So what? I love Kipp. That doesn’t mean I let him run my life. Don’t get me wrong. I like Tony. He’s a babe, and he’s got manners. But we’re young. We’re going to be in love dozens of times before it’s all over.”

  Alison raised her eyes to peer at the sky, through the thin haze of smog that hung over the city. Everything Brenda said made sense. Yet it felt wrong. Alison lifted an arm to shield her eyes from the glare.

  “There’s only one sun,” Alison said with feeling. “It’s always the same, but it’s always the best. Do you know what I mean?”

  Brenda snickered at the sentiment as she finished her shoes. “Guys are a dime a dozen. They come and go like streetcars.”

  Alison lowered her hand, her eyes. “Tony’s not a streetcar.”

  Brenda changed the subject. “Fran called. She left a message on our machine. She said it was vital I call her immediately. Sounds like Fran, huh? Should I call her before we leave?”

  “No.” Alison sighed. “Let’s stop by her house. She might want to come with us.”

  “All right,” Brenda said.

  · · ·

  Fran didn’t answer the door when Alison and Brenda knocked. When they peeked inside, they were surprised that Fran was sitting at the kitchen table. She should have heard them knocking. The L.A. Times lay spread out on the table in front of her.

  “Hello?” Brenda said to Fran as Brenda and Alison stepped all the way inside. “Are we in? Are we happy? Is life good?”

  Fran didn’t answer. She continued to sit with her face buried in her hands. Fran was often overly emotional, so neither Alison nor Brenda was unduly concerned. Alison crossed to the table and touched Fran on the back.

  “It can’t be that bad,” Alison told her.

  In response Fran removed her hands from her face and stared at them both with red eyes. Without saying a word, she fished under the paper and withdrew a purple envelope. She held it out with a trembling hand for one of them to take. Alison felt afraid as her eyes fell upon it, even before she realized the envelope was the same color and shape as the ones Neil’s chain letters had been sent in. She forced a laugh.

  “Don’t tell me it’s another chain letter?” Alison said.

  Fran nodded. Her voice came out like a croak. “Yeah.”

  “Let me see that thing,” Brenda snapped, pulling the letter out of Fran’s fingers. She ripped the letter out. Alison peered over Brenda’s shoulder, and they read it together.

  My Dearest,

  You thought you knew me, but you did not. You thought I was your friend, but I am not. I am the real Caretaker, and I am going to take care of you. Listen closely.

  At the bottom of this communication is a list of names. Your name is at the top. What is required of you—at present—is a small token of obedience. After you have performed this small service, you will remove your name from Column III and place it in the box. Once you are in the box, you will stay in the box. Then you will make a copy of this communication and mail it to the individual now at the top of Column III. The specifics of the small service you are to perform will be listed in the classified ads of the Times under Personals—in backward code. The individual following you on the list must receive this letter within three days of today.

  Feel free to discuss this communication with the others on the list. Like myself, they are not your friends, but they do know all your sins. Do not discuss this communication with anyone outside the group. If you do, you will anger me.

  If you do not perform the small service listed in the paper or if you break the chain of this communication, you will be horribly killed.

  Sincerely,

  Your Caretaker

  Column III

  Fran

  Kipp

  Brenda

  Joan

  Tony

  For a full minute none of them spoke or moved. It was as it had been a few months earlier. They were in the same place. They had the same kind of letter in their hands—the same kind of fear in their hearts. Yet their fear was different, too. Months ago they’d had no idea of the horror that would follow the letter. At first they had thought it might be a joke. Now their fear was based on bitter experience. Yet it would lead them to the same conclusion as before. Brenda was the first to say it out loud.

  “This is a bad joke,” she said and crumpled up the letter. Alison stopped her.

  “Wait a second,” Alison said, taking it out of Brenda’s hands. “I want to study this thing.”

  “What’s there to study?” Brenda asked angrily. “One of the others sent it to scare us. It was probably Joan.”

  “What about Kipp?” Alison asked.

  “It could have been Kipp,” Brenda was quick to agree. “What did I tell you about guys? They’re a pain in the ass all around. Let’s toss this thing and get to the mall. I’m hungry.”

  “It’s not a joke,” Fran whispered.

  “Of course it is,” Brenda said, sounding as if she were addressing a small child. “Neil’s dead. He’s not sending any more letters.”

  Fran nodded to the paper. “There’s an ad under Personals in there.” Fran trembled. “It’s for me.”

  Alison grabbed the paper. It took her only a second to spot the ad. Fran had worked out the code on the empty column beside it. The original ad read: NARFTHGINOTYPPUPRUOYNWORD. Decoded it said:

  Drown your puppy tonight, Fran.

  Alison’s face twisted in disgust. “This is sick. Kipp wouldn’t place an ad like this.”

  Brenda glanced at it and shook her head. “It must have been Joan, then. Anybody who dresses like her has got to be sick.”

  “But Joan likes animals,” Alison said. “She has a dog. She wouldn’t want Fran to drown her puppy.”

  Brenda was getting exasperated. “Of course Joan doesn’t expect Fran to drown her puppy. She knows Fran isn’t that stupid. She’s just trying to scare us. She has to say something weird.”

  Alison stared once more at the letter. It was neatly typed, as Neil’s had been. It was not a photocopy. “I don’t know,” she muttered.

  Brenda lost her temper. “What don’t you know? The wording and i
deas of this letter are almost identical to the ones Neil sent us. The person who sent this couldn’t even be bothered thinking up something original. It has to be someone in the group. We’re the only ones who knew about the chain letters.”

  “Will you quit yelling at me,” Alison said.

  “I am not yelling at you!” Brenda yelled.

  “Yes, you are,” Fran said.

  “Well, if I am it’s your fault,” Brenda yelled at Fran. “Why didn’t you throw this thing away when you got it and not bother us with it? We’ve got stuff to do. We’ve got to go shopping.”

  Alison sat down at the table, studying the column of names at the bottom. “How come I’m not on this list?” she asked.

  “It doesn’t matter who’s there,” Brenda said impatiently.

  “I think it does,” Alison said. “If someone in the group was trying to play a joke on us, then he or she would have known to include my name. They would have known that I had been involved before.”

  “Are you saying that the person who sent this letter doesn’t know exactly what happened before?” Fran asked.

  “I think it’s possible,” Alison said, and the possibility filled her with dread. If someone outside their group knew even a little about what had happened the summer before, then they were in hot water. After all, they had accidentally run over a man in the desert.

  At least, they thought they had run over him. They had been driving blind at night, with their lights out. For all they knew, the man could have been lying dead when they hit him. The man had had no wallet. They had never even been able to identify him. But one thing was for sure, they had buried him, and they hadn’t told the police about it, and that was a punishable crime.

  “Doesn’t this discussion strike any of you as familiar?” Brenda asked. “We had it a couple of months ago. We thought the letter must be from someone in the group, but then we figured it couldn’t be one of us ’cause it was too weird. Well, it turned out to be Neil, and he was with us that night. It’ll be the same this time.”

  “Are you saying someone else in the group has gone insane?” Fran asked.

  “Yes,” Brenda said. “You and Alison for believing this garbage.”

  Alison stood. “We have to call the others. Let’s call Kipp and Tony.”

  “I’d call Joan first myself,” Brenda said. “She’ll probably bust up laughing.”

  “I don’t want to call Joan,” Alison said. Tony had gone out a few times with Joan before he had started to date her. Joan had never forgiven her for stealing the guy she considered to be her boyfriend. It was all absurd—Tony said he hadn’t even made out with Joan.

  Alison set the letter beside the phone and dialed Tony’s number. She got his voice mail. She didn’t leave a message. She tried Kipp’s number. Tony had said something earlier about going over to see Kipp. But she got Kipp’s voice mail as well. She left a message for him to call her. She didn’t say anything about the chain letter. She called Tony back and left a similar message on his voice mail. Then, reluctantly, she tried Joan. She got another voice mail. The world was full of them. She left a message for Joan to call ASAP.

  “I think we should wait here until we get one of them on the phone,” Alison said, setting the receiver down.

  “What?” Brenda complained. “We’re going to blow out the rest of the day because of a stupid letter? Give me a break. If you’re not going to the mall, I am. Give me your car keys.”

  “No,” Alison said. “You’re going to shut up and sit here and wait with Fran and me. This letter may be a joke. It probably is. But it might be serious, and if it is, we have to stick together. That’s what we learned last time. All right?”

  Brenda sat down with a big huff. “I didn’t learn anything last time—except to stay away from the mailbox.”

  It may have been a coincidence, or the dog may have been psychic and known he was being discussed. In either case, Fran’s puppy suddenly ran into the kitchen and began to lick his master’s hands. Fran reached down and patted the cute little brown cocker spaniel on the head. An anxious smile touched her lips.

  “It must be a joke,” Fran said. “No one could want Barney dead. No one could think I’d actually drown him.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Alison replied. But a chill went through her as she thought about what Fran had just said. Alison stared at the letter again. The small service was absolutely unthinkable. Perhaps this Caretaker wasn’t the least bit interested in seeing Barney dead. Maybe he was only interested in having an excuse to harm Fran.

  Chapter Three

  Tony Hunt didn’t leave Alison Parker’s house and drive straight to Kipp’s. He stopped at the mall near his house first. He was hungry, and there were a dozen different places to eat there. Also, at the back of his mind, he hoped to accidentally run into Alison, who was supposed to go shopping with Brenda. He thought this was pretty ironic since he had just walked out on Alison. But he was beginning to accept as normal the contradictions between his thoughts and his actions. Nowadays his whole existence seemed one vast vat of confusion.

  Tony didn’t know what was wrong with himself. Alison was leaving town, of course, but if he was completely honest with himself, he had to admit that he had been feeling anxious even before her invitation from NYU arrived. He tried to rationalize that the pain in his back must be throwing him off more than he realized. Yet he had been hurt before and hadn’t lost his sense of inner stability. As he examined his feelings, the clearer it became that his sense of confusion and foreboding had started with the arrival of Neil’s chain letter. Yet his anxiety hadn’t culminated with Neil’s death and then begun to heal. It continued even now to hang over his head. He missed Neil terribly, sure, but why the continuing feelings of anxiety and foreboding? Why not simply sorrow and loneliness? Those emotions would have been natural and easily explainable. It was almost as if nothing had ended with Neil’s death, except Neil.

  Tony parked in the warm sun and walked into the mall. The cool air and shopper sounds enfolded him like a hug. He liked malls, which was odd because he seldom bought anything. But he could walk around in a mall for an hour and just observe people—so preoccupied with their latest purchases, so delighted with the silliest little things. He watched them but always felt separate from them. In fact, he felt closer to the mannequins in the windows. The silent observers. Hadn’t that been a line from Neil’s chain letter? I am the Observer, the Recorder. I am also the Punisher. Tony felt as if he were still being punished for a crime he wasn’t even sure he had committed. This was another feeling that had only begun in the last few months, long after they had buried the man in the desert.

  Tony went to the food circle. His tastes were uncreative. He ordered a hamburger, fries, and a Coke from the McDonald’s—he figured he couldn’t go wrong with that. He had hoped Fran Darey might be working. The cashier told him that Fran had already left for the day. Fran was a high-strung worrywart, but she always had a smile and a kind word for him. Tony could hardly remember the last time Alison had looked happy to see him. God, girls changed when you got to know them. They turned into people with problems. People who wanted you to solve their problems.

  Tony took his food into the center of the tables and sat beside the good-luck fountain, where for a tossed penny and a silent prayer all your wishes might come true. Tony pulled a nickel from his pocket and threw it into the splashing water. It was a good throw; it landed on the top circular tier. Alison was right—he had a hell of an arm. But no wish came to his mind, only the desire that his unhappiness be gone. He picked up his hamburger and took a bite. They had cooked it well done, just the way he liked it. A soft laugh sounded to his right.

  “I make a wish every day at this time,” a girl said. “I don’t know if they don’t come true because I don’t know what I want or because I only use a penny.”

  Tony looked over and was surprised to see a beautiful young woman at the next table. Her hair was long and shiny, an odd maroon so deep red it w
as almost black. Her green eyes shone bright above her full lips, which were painted a warm red. Her face was pale, but cute freckles played around her shapely nose and her innocent dimples. She was drinking a cup of coffee and reading a magazine. Her dress was entirely white, like that of a nurse. She smiled as his eyes met hers, and he found himself smiling in return.

  “Maybe we should use quarters,” he said.

  She nodded. “Then we could do a month’s worth of wishing in one throw.”

  He gestured around them. “You come here a lot?”

  “For lunch, yeah. I work near here. At the hospital.”

  “What do you do?”

  She made a face. “Today I’m drawing blood. Exciting, huh?”

  “You don’t like your job?”

  She shrugged. “It’s a job. It pays the bills. What do you do?”

  He didn’t want to sound as if he’d just graduated from high school. He put her age at about twenty-one, two years older than he was. “I’m in college,” he muttered.

  “I was in college once. Where do you go?”

  It was his plan to attend a local junior college for the first two years. Without an athletic scholarship, he couldn’t afford anything else. But he gave Alison’s first choice of schools because it sounded more impressive. He didn’t know why he wanted to impress this girl. It wasn’t normally his style.

  “UCLA,” he said.

  “That’s where I went to school! It’s a neat campus, isn’t it?”

  “I like it.”

  “What’s your major?” she asked. She had a wonderful voice. It conveyed warmth and excitement at the same time.

  “I’d like to be a teacher,” he said. “But I haven’t settled on a definite major.”

  “It’s a bitch having to choose, isn’t it? I’m not even in school, and I’m still changing my major.” She nodded to his food. “Your hamburger’s getting cold. I should leave you alone and let you eat.”

  Tony paused. She was right. He should finish his food and get on with his day. Kipp would be waiting for him. But he suddenly realized he was enjoying himself, chatting with this stranger about odds and ends. He used to have fun with Alison like this, back when they could communicate.