Dead Scared

by Ivan Blake

  “And now people know Mr. Duncan is gay, Principal Dell is probably glad to have an excuse to get rid of him.”

  “The letter accusing Mr. Duncan, you said it wasn’t signed?”

  “No it wasn’t.”

  “So they have no idea who sent it?”

  “No.”

  “Oh Christ, I just know Mr. Duncan’s going to think I had something to do with this.” Chris took off running back to the school.

  * * * *

  He raced up the stairs and along the corridor. A police officer was waiting outside the Social Studies classroom, probably to escort Mr. Duncan off the premises when the time came. He made no move to stop Chris. In the classroom, Mr. Duncan was alone and hurriedly packing his things into two small boxes.

  “They fired you?” Chris asked.

  “What does it look like?”

  “Can’t you fight this?”

  “Fight? Fight what? It’s true! The letter is true! I should have helped Floyd! Not said, ‘You aren’t alone’ to the poor kid. He needed proper help, and I didn’t get it for him. Help, not with his sexuality, of course not. With his dad and his…his guilt, although Christ knows who could have helped the poor boy? His parents, the Principal, the guidance counselor? Did they really want to know their big man on campus was a queer? Still, I should have tried. I should have said something. He was in such pain!” Tears streamed down Mr. Duncan’s face.

  Then he stopped packing and looked at Chris. His sorrow gave way to suspicion, and then to anger.

  “But you knew, didn’t you? You knew Floyd was gay, you knew his dad was beating him, and you knew why!”

  “I didn’t —”

  “You wrote the letter to Dell.” Duncan’s anger grew. “Of course you did! You may not have drawn the cartoon about Floyd, but you wrote the letter about me! It had to be you, you and your girlfriend because no one else knew about Floyd’s note!”

  “I only heard about the note this morning—”

  “For God’s sake, why have you done this? What did I ever do to you?”

  “Nothing! I—”

  “I have to live with the knowledge I could have helped Floyd and didn’t,” Mr. Duncan said, “but you, you weren’t content to let me punish myself. You had to humiliate me as well. “

  “I didn’t—”

  “Don’t keep saying you didn’t! They have Floyd’s note!”

  “So?”

  “So the note was on my desk! In my home! Hardly anybody has ever been in my home, and only two students, you and Miss Dahlman!” He shook his head and resumed packing.

  “Then Mallory took it because I—”

  “What difference does it make which one of you took it? You damned well brought her into my home.”

  “Why would I want to hurt you?” Chris pleaded.

  “Mr. Chandler, I don’t know what goes on in your head. I was warned about you. I just didn’t listen. Christ, I thought a friend was doing me a favor when he got me this job. And now it’s cost me everything and a poor boy his life. So please, just go. I have no more time for you. I’ve got fifteen minutes to finish packing before everyone gets back from lunch. The sooner I go, the less abuse I’ll suffer.”

  “Mr. Duncan, I swear—”

  “Get out, Mr. Chandler.”

  * * * *

  Chris stumbled out of the room, went to his homeroom, and sat there, stunned, oblivious to the few students who straggled in. Shortly before the class bell, a roar went up from the crowd in the schoolyard. Mr. Duncan’s departure was about as bad as he’d feared.

  At the end of the afternoon, Mr. Duncan’s dismissal was still pretty much the only topic of conversation as students went to their buses. No one paid much attention to Chris, no one except Mallory.

  Chris was walking across the parking lot in the direction of Main Street, head down, lost in thought. He felt like crap. No way would he be able to listen to all the garbage on the bus without losing it. He’d have to hitchhike. Maybe Mrs. Holcomb would be along soon.

  “I would offer you a ride, except I know how much you like to walk,” Mallory said, leaning against her mother’s car in the embrace of a new boyfriend, some jock grinning like an idiot who couldn’t believe his luck at getting fifteen minutes with the legendary Dahlman boobs.

  Mallory was the last person in the world Chris wanted to talk to. Anger got the better of him, however.

  “Back from the burial? You must have enjoyed yourself,” he said. She missed the dig.

  “It was all so sad, it broke my heart. I’m sure Floyd’s in a better place.” She made a sad face, then grinned.

  If ever there was a case for retribution! But how? What could he possibly do to punish such a…? He turned and walked away.

  “You look nice,” Mallory called after him. “New girlfriend pick out your clothes?”

  “What new girlfriend?”

  “The Willard girl.”

  “She’s not....” A chill ran down his spine. Mallory’s expression was menacing.

  “Nice dress,” he replied. “Your daddy buy it for you?”

  Mallory glared at him, then smiled her sweetest smile. “Billy dear,” she said and patted the jock’s chest, “will you give us a minute? Mr. Chandler and I have a few things to settle. One minute, my love.”

  The jock moved off to join a group of buddies, glowering back at Chris from time to time, fists jammed in his pockets, probably to stop his knuckles dragging on the pavement.

  Mallory waved sweetly at her jock then turned to Chris. She moved so close her breasts touched his chest, and whispered, “Chris, you and I really don’t need to part. This is all just a misunderstanding. Oh, Billy’s nice—well, he’s an idiot but a nice sort of idiot, and he’ll do anything I ask, anything at all.” Was that a threat?

  “Chris, listen to me, we only fell out because you questioned me. You didn’t trust me when I told you I had nothing to do with Floyd’s death. You shouldn’t doubt me when I tell you something. That’s not how two people as alike as we are should treat each other. I’m willing to forgive you because I think we could have something special together, something interesting. We were good together, really good, weren’t we? Our afternoon, in my bed, remember? Why can’t we be like that again? What do you say? I’ll get rid of Billy. You get rid of the Willard child...and we’ll go somewhere in my mother’s car...and make up.”

  He stared at her, unable to believe what he was hearing. For a moment he was speechless, then he said, “You took Floyd’s note from Mr. Duncan’s house.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “No. No I didn’t take it.”

  “And you sent the letter about Mr. Duncan to Principal Dell. One of your offerings, was it?”

  She stepped away from Chris, turned toward Billy, and waved sweetly. Then she said to Chris, “Why are you bringing this up now? Floyd is dead, Mr. Duncan is gone. What does any of this have to do with us?”

  “Because I’m trying to figure out—behind all your lies and pretending—who you really are?”

  She glared for a moment and then moved close, smiled and whispered in his ear. “You want to know the real me?” She pressed hard against his chest. “I’m the girl who made your heart nearly explode with excitement...and your prick as hard as a gun barrel. I’m the girl who can fulfill every desire you have ever known and many you cannot imagine.” Then the smile vanished as she backed away. “And I’m the girl who can make your life a misery if you cross me.”

  Chris struggled to show no weakness, in spite of the icy grip on his heart. “So you did take the note.”

  “I’m not saying that. If maybe I did though, it would have been to protect this community.”

  Chris shook his head. “They tried to warn me about you, but I didn’t listen.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “People said you were dangerous.”

  “And who are they?”

  “Mr. Duncan, for one.”

 
; “A pervert.”

  “Your brother.”

  “Another pervert.”

  “Even Floyd.”

  “Biggest pervert of all.”

  Chris said nothing more.

  The malicious grin returned to Mallory’s face. “Not your old lady friend, the Holcomb woman? Another pervert. Did she tell you what I caught her doing in the hospital?”

  “You’ve been terrorizing her.”

  “She’s a clown! She deserves everything she gets. Oh, and your new little friend, Little Miss Hillbilly? What does she say about me?”

  “Nothing.” Was she threatening Gillian now?

  “Oh, I’m sure!”

  Mallory spun away and started back toward Billy and friends, then stopped, turned, and said, “Have you noticed how bad things happen to people who are not my friends, to people who hurt my feelings, who criticize me? I have the gods of my ancestors to thank for that. I always knew they would support me if I was strong. Now I know just how strong I can really be, and I have you to thank for that.”

  * * * *

  Cold and exhausted and filled with dread, Chris climbed up into the attic space. He pushed the hatch cover back into place, checked the pop-bottle alarm system and small door at the foot of the bed, and slipped under the covers, still wearing the shirt and slacks he’d worn to the funeral. Even so, the damp sheets made him shiver. He lay on his back, motionless for a moment, and then rolled onto his side to switch off the bedside light. He scraped frost from the small window by the bed, and then peered outside. Something stirred out in the dark.

  A light...moving slowly along the railway line. He knew what it meant—Floyd’s remains were about to endure their final humiliation. Chris pulled the sheets over his head and whimpered.

  * * * *

  The pop bottle fell to the floor and skittered under the bed. Chris’s eyes flew wide. For an instant, he saw nothing, then, slowly, a dark shape at the end of the bed—no, not a shape, darkness…black as coal…beyond the open door.

  “Who’s there? What do you want?” Then the smell hit him and he knew...the goatman.

  “Oh, Christopher,” Meath whispered, “a pop bottle? Really?”

  “I’m going to call my parents!”

  “Do that and....” A match flared to life in the darkness beyond the doorway. For an instant, the goatman’s crouched body and crazed face glowed in its light. Meath held the tiny flame toward the doorway. “I might just drop this.”

  “No please.” In terror, Chris scrambled out of bed like a cockroach and jammed himself under the eave opposite the door to get as far away from the flame as the crawl space would allow.

  The goatman blew out the match. “Then let’s chat, you and I.”

  “How did you get in here?”

  “You thought crushing a few hinge pins would stop me? And yet you overlooked the screws holding the hinges in place? So stupid! How I get into this house isn’t important. Just know that I can, and by a hundred ways, so don’t try to bar me again.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “Your help, isn’t it obvious? I need someone to assist me with my work, and we seem suited.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “I’ve told you my story, how I’ve been persecuted. You suffer much the same way from your schoolmates. You choose to live apart from lesser people, as do I. You don’t have much else to do with your time or many prospects for the future, and I’m offering you a chance at fame when my work succeeds. And you don’t seem to be shocked by dead bodies. I know that because you’ve been watching me. So it seems logical you should become my assistant. In fact, I rather expected you’d show up at my place tonight. You knew I had new material to work with.”

  “You’re crazy! I’m not going to help you!”

  “I don’t like your tone. I thought you were a bright lad who’d appreciate the opportunity I’m offering. Have I misjudged you?”

  “You’re damned right!”

  “Then,” and Meath struck another match, “perhaps I’ll terminate this chat.”

  “You’ll be trapped up here as well!”

  “Not if I toss the match in there with you and then bar this door. You know your walls are made of sawdust. They call it suicide board for a reason. One match and boom. Me, I have a route out of this house and nothing to stop me.”

  “No please, wait. I was only thinking of you,” Chris said.

  “Thinking of me?” The goatman grinned and blew out the match. “This better be good.”

  “You don’t want my help. The police are all over me. You don’t want them looking too closely at you too.”

  “Chief Boucher and his idiot deputy paid me a visit the other day,” Meath said. “Out of the blue. Your doing, I suppose. Everything worked out though. They asked if I was having trouble with any local kids, and I told them no. Then they asked if I’d seen you hanging around. They said you’ve been bothering some of the other neighbors. So I told them I’d seen you walking on the tracks...but nothing else. They seemed disappointed. If it would make them happy, I could always make up something, make myself into one of your victims.” Chris could hear the grin in Meath’s voice. “If you won’t help me, that is.”

  “What about your wife? Doesn’t she help you?”

  “She met with a little accident the other night.”

  Bile rose in Chris’s throat. “So what do you want me to do?”

  “I want you to come to my place the next time I bring home a specimen. I’ll explain the rest then.”

  “A specimen?”

  “Another corpse, of course.”

  The small door started to close, then stopped.

  “Oh, and remember,” the goatman said from the darkness, “I can always find another way into this house...and as far as I’m concerned, one corpse is as good as another.” The door slammed shut.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tuesday, November 26

  At first light, Chris dropped down to the landing, crept out the back door and walked around the house to examine the cellar door. Sure enough, the screws holding the two hinges to the weathered wood had been removed. The door was back in place and the padlock still closed, so at a casual glance all looked secure. All Chris had to do was swing the two hinges away from the wood and pivot the door on the padlock to open a gap wide enough to climb through. Crap.

  Gillian appeared at the corner of the house. “Chris, what are you doing?” She had on bunny slippers and a well-worn plaid housecoat down to her ankles. In spite of his anger and fear, Chris smiled at the sight of her.

  “What are you wearing?” he asked.

  “Don’t you dare laugh at me, you creep!” She spun around and headed back the way she’d come.

  He ran after her. “No, I’m sorry,” he said, “it’s just that, well, I guess I was expecting you might look a little more sexy in your pjs.”

  “I’m not sexy! I mean I am sexy, but I’m not trying to look sexy. I mean, oh you pig!” She spun away again.

  “No wait, I’m sorry.” He touched her arm and she stopped.

  Her back still to him, she said, “If you must know, this was my dad’s housecoat. I like how it still smells…of him.”

  Chris felt like an idiot. “Well, I like it too, and it’s sensible. It’s freezing out here.”

  She pulled the housecoat close about herself, and turned to look at him. “So what are you doing?”

  “I had a visitor last night, Dr. Meath, in the attic again.”

  “He was? How?”

  “Come see.” He demonstrated the useless hinges. “And he says he has a hundred other ways into the house. I guess he makes a regular thing of it. So, you know, you might want to lock your bedroom door at night.”

  “Now you’re really scaring me.”

  “Welcome to my world.”

  “What does he want?”

  “He wants me to assist him.”

  “That’s crazy. He raises goats.”

  “And experiments o
n dead bodies...”

  “Well, I hope you told him to take a flying leap.”

  “He threatened to set the attic on fire…so I said yes.”

  “Oh, you’ve got to tell the police! And Mom and Granddad.”

  “No, not yet. I don’t want you to become another target for Meath, or for the police. Mallory Dahlman is already threatening you because of me. So please don’t say anything to your mom until I’ve done what I can to stop all this. I’ll talk to the police.”

  “What did you just say?”

  “I don’t want you to become a target for Meath.”

  “No, I mean about Mallory Dahlman.”

  “Nothing, forget it.”

  “Chris.”

  “Okay, she sort of threatened you because she thinks you’re my girlfriend, and...I think she’s dangerous.”

  “I’ve been telling you that for days. But your girlfriend? She thinks I’m your girlfriend?”

  “Be careful. And tomorrow, I expect there will be rumors...about us. Just ignore them, okay?”

  Gillian looked stunned. Chris moved forward, took her in his arms and hugged her almost desperately. In that moment, it had seemed the most natural thing to do.

  At first, Gillian stood there, not moving, then she put her arms around Chris and pressed into his embrace. She murmured, “It’ll be okay, everything will be okay.” Chris hoped with all his heart she really believed that.

  After a moment, he said, “We’ve got to get ready for school. See you up at the road,” and walked away.

  * * * *

  They didn’t talk much at the bus stop, as though they were afraid to speak because they didn’t know where a real conversation might lead. On the bus, Chris didn’t sit with Gillian. If they were already in Mallory’s sights, the wise thing seemed to be to play things cool for a while. The bus didn’t stop at the Dahlmans’ house. Okay, good start.

  When they got off the bus, Chris headed for the police station. Gillian ran after him and asked, “Would it help if I came too, to tell them I believe what you’re saying about Dr. Meath?”

  “Not sure. They already think your family’s protecting mine for your rent money. I don’t think there’s much point in making them suspect you’re mixed up in one of my stunts.”