Popcorn Thief

by Cutter, Leah

  “I don’t like it,” the sheriff said sourly. “I still don’t know what it was that attacked either of you, or Lexine, or Earl Jackson.”

  Franklin didn’t point out that he’d already told the sheriff what it was. It was just that the sheriff didn’t want to believe it.

  “Still,” the sheriff said. “I hate to admit it. But. Something’s out there. And it’s my duty to stop it. Before it kills someone else.”

  “We’re gonna try to trap it, and poison it,” Darryl said eagerly. “Get a salt lick, lace it with antibiotic cream.”

  The sheriff listened, rubbing his forefinger and thumb over his long mustache and around his mouth, nodding his head.

  “Do you think that’ll work?” the sheriff asked Franklin.

  “Beats me, sir,” Franklin said. “I’m just about run out of ideas how to kill it.” If Mama, who could maybe see the future and was already a ghost, didn’t know how, he wasn’t sure he could figure it out.

  “Let me know how your experiment goes,” Sheriff Thompson finally said. “But you get out of there if that thing turns on you. I do not want to bring your mother any more bad news. You hear me?”

  “Yes, sir,” Franklin said.

  Darryl just grinned. “It ain’t gonna get us. It ain’t got either of us yet.”

  “‘Yet’ is kind of the operative word there, don’t you think?” the sheriff asked as he walked off.

  Darryl dropped his smile after the sheriff had gone. “That creature’s real dangerous,” he told Franklin seriously. “And now, not only has it come after you, it’s come after me. We’re gonna get it. We’re gonna send it back to Hell where it belongs.”

  Franklin just hoped they didn’t end up dying in the process.

  Chapter Nine

  FRANKLIN SPENT MOST OF FRIDAY RELAXING AGAIN. May wouldn’t be by until later that night to change the dressing on his back. He took off the bandages on his arms himself, and then wrapped them back up with a much lighter gauze. He could start leaving the bandages off at night, letting ’em air, starting Saturday. Then he returned to his pile of pillows on the couch and his TV, flipping through the channels during the commercials.

  When his phone rang about 4 PM, he expected it to be Darryl with more of his plans.

  It was Ray Sorrel, instead. “So how’d you like some visitors?” Ray asked.

  “Are you sure?” Franklin said in return. He knew they’d been camping out for some time now, under the tree men, so Adrianna would be safe.

  “It’s Adrianna, actually, who’s insisting. She thinks that since the creature’s already attacked you, it won’t go back there. That you drove it off, like she did.”

  “It wasn’t really me who drove it off. I just—got away. Plus, it’s attacked my cousin Darryl, in his truck.”

  “Is he all right?”

  “Shook up. Gouged. But yeah, he’s fine.”

  “We’re coming anyway,” Ray said firmly. “Can’t live our lives afraid of shadows, or always outdoors. Besides,” Ray paused, then lowered his voice. “Adrianna says she wants to try picking up power lines in other places now. She swears it’ll protect you. If she can do it at all.”

  “Come on by, then,” Franklin told him. After he hung up, he made more tea and set up for a picnic outside, in the back.

  Ray and Adrianna knocked on the door soon after that.

  “It’s so good to see you,” Adrianna said, taking Franklin’s hand at the door, but not coming inside. She wore one of her usual flowy dresses, in yellows and oranges that made her skin seem more pale and her features more fragile, like she was turning into a porcelain doll.

  “Glad you’re on your feet,” Ray said.

  “I planned on having tea out back,” Franklin told them. He didn’t want Adrianna to refuse to come inside—Mama might get angry at that.

  “Anything I can help with?” Ray asked, edging across the threshold.

  “Sure. Let me show Miss Adrianna the table first,” Franklin said.

  They walked around the edge of the house, to the white tables and chairs in the back, looking out toward his rows of corn. The Kentucky bluegrass Franklin had growing out there was lush and green. Franklin was gonna have to cut it again, soon. It felt peaceful out there, even in the heat of the day, with the loud crickets and cicadas.

  “I’ll be right back,” Franklin assured her.

  “Take your time, dear,” Adrianna said. She didn’t sit, but stayed standing, staring out at the fields.

  Franklin didn’t trust whatever she’d get up to, so he hurried into the house.

  “How’s she doing?” Franklin asked Ray as he put the pitcher of iced tea and three glasses on a tray that already held the last of the cookies that May had brought over from the funeral.

  “She’s getting stranger,” Ray admitted. “I’m afraid I’m losing her. She barely talks with me anymore.”

  “I’m sorry, Ray,” Franklin said. He wasn’t sure what advice to offer the older man, if there was anything he could say that would help. “Just keep letting her know she’s your lady,” he finally came up with. “She’ll come back.”

  Ray gave a bitter laugh. “That’s what the songs say, don’t they? But I don’t know if that’ll be true for us.”

  “It’s only been a couple of days,” Franklin pointed out.

  “No, this has been coming for a while. Like the thing with the koi pond,” Ray said. “That wasn’t the start of it.” He sighed. “We should get out there.”

  Franklin let Ray carry the tray, both to give him something to do, as well as to not put any strain on his arms or back. Adrianna was sitting by now. She scolded them, saying, “I didn’t know what you two had gotten into, making me wait so long.”

  “I’m sorry, dear,” Ray said, leaning over and kissing her forehead.

  They stayed like that for a second, Adrianna leaning into Ray, something deep and precious passing between them.

  Maybe Ray had been wrong about Adrianna pulling away.

  After Franklin served the tea, Adrianna asked, “Could you tell me what happened the night you were attacked, dear?”

  Franklin started off with explaining about Sweet Bess, going in through the root cellar, how the thing had tore up his kitchen, and how Mama had stepped in so he could get away.

  “It’s those things we love, or who love us, that are the most effective against this creature, aren’t they?” Adrianna mused.

  “Huh. That’s what Billy said,” Franklin replied. “He said it was pure evil, and the only way to fight it was with love.”

  “He may have been onto something,” Ray said.

  “What, we’re supposed to hug it to death?” Franklin asked, repeating Darryl’s question.

  “No, dear,” Adrianna said. “Turn the other cheek is often wrongly used. You have to fight it using love, with the things you love.”

  “What do you mean?” Franklin asked. He’d never thought about fighting using love before.

  “Now, I know Ray has been questioning whether I still love him or not,” Adrianna said slyly.

  “Dear—” Ray started.

  “Let me finish. I do love you, Ray. But I can’t use you to fight. I have to use the other things I love, if I want to protect you,” Adrianna said clearly, though her eyes were starting to haze over.

  “You don’t have to fight anything,” Franklin said as Adrianna turned her gaze from them and out over the fields.

  “But I must,” Adrianna said in a voice that was no longer her own: It had grown dark and husky, like a clouded night.

  Franklin shivered. The grace that had taken over Darryl hadn’t been frightening: It had been more like he’d finally stepped into his real skin.

  With Adrianna, it was like something else had stepped inside her.

  Adrianna rose sluggishly and walked—like she was sleepwalking—to the edge of the corn rows, where she raised her hands with her fingers spread wide, then lowered them toward the ground.

  Even in the afternoon light,
Franklin saw the trails starting, glowing white, flowing from her fingers and spreading out across the land, like painted white stripes.

  “What’s she doing, Ray?” Franklin asked, alarmed. He went to stand behind Adrianna. All the hair along the back of his neck stood up and chills ran down his spine, like a platoon of ghosts stood breathing over his shoulder.

  “I don’t know,” Ray said, standing behind him. “What’cha doing, honey?”

  Adrianna didn’t bother to reply. Slowly, she turned her hands and curled her fingers around, grasping the lines like they were thick cables. The muscles in her bare arms strained as she raised her hands up. She flicked her wrists once, sending the lines cascading down, like reins on a set of horses.

  A sizzling noise filled the air, like a bad electronic transformer, the pitch winding up until the sound hurt Franklin’s ears. What the hell was she doing? What kind of power had she raised?

  Adrianna flicked her wrists again. The power surged along the lines, bouncing from the end, up to Adrianna, and back again. She shivered and sweat broke out along her forehead.

  Was she strong enough to maintain these lines? Or was she gonna collapse any moment now?

  Suddenly, the creature appeared. It stayed in the distance, at the edge of Franklin’s property. Fear held Franklin to the spot. What the hell was he going to do if it attacked again? How could he protect not just himself, but Adrianna?

  Adrianna whipped one of the power lines in her left hand toward the thing, flailing it open, as if striking it with a barbed whip.

  How could she do that? Franklin hadn’t thought that someone as soft and flaky as Adrianna would even have it in her to fight.

  Fury poured from the creature. How dare its prey attack? It whirled faster, then hopped up, on top of the line of power emanating from Adrianna.

  Adrianna flicked her wrists again, trying to toss the creature off, but it held on tenaciously.

  Then it started riding the line back.

  It was coming to attack.

  Adrianna pulled with her right hand, trying to bring those lines up high enough to reach the creature. But she couldn’t pull hard enough, or move fast enough.

  The thing’s long whips were at the ready, the stingers stretched out, eager to hurt and maim.

  “Let go!” Franklin cried. “Let it fall!” That was the only way he could get both of them out of there.

  With a hoarse shout, Adrianna raised her power lines one last time, up above her head, then brought them down, past her knees.

  It wasn’t enough to knock the creature loose.

  Adrianna flung her hands wide open, dropping the lines. She staggered back, and only Ray catching her prevented her from falling.

  The creature stayed balanced for a moment, then it fell to the ground as the lines fell back.

  Then the line it was on turned black, and the spirit raced away from them, following the black line, slurping up all the power that had been raised.

  Shit. Was that thing getting stronger now? It looked bigger. But at least it was heading away from them.

  Franklin turned back toward Adrianna. She rested against Ray, his hands under her elbows, helping her stand. Her eyes were clear again, but half-mast, and her pale face now looked sickly.

  Franklin looked back out, over his field. The creature was at least twice the size it had been, before it disappeared off the edge of the property.

  What had they done?

  * * *

  Franklin stood by, helpless, as Ray bundled Adrianna back into their car. He wanted to help, but just the appearance of the creature had set all his wounds throbbing: He couldn’t risk trying to help pick Adrianna up, then dropping her or pulling out his stitches or something.

  “I’m sorry, Franklin,” Ray said, coming over to stand next to him in the driveway of the house. “Feeding that thing, making it stronger, was the farthest thing from what Adrianna wanted to do.”

  “I know,” Franklin said. But that’s just what they’d done. They’d made it stronger, more deadly. Who would it attack next? Who would it kill?

  “I wanted to let you know something else,” Ray said. “I’d meant to tell you earlier, but…Anyway. Earl? Hadn’t just gone to Lexine’s place. He’d also been looking at the deed to Karl Metzger’s farm.”

  “Was he looking to buy it?” Franklin asked, puzzled. Karl’s place was far too close to town for a resort. Maybe Earl had just wanted to talk to Karl about his crops, since they were the best in the county.

  “I’ve asked his office, but no one knows for certain,” Ray said.

  “Thanks,” Franklin said. He was gonna have to pay Karl another visit, and he wasn’t looking forward to that.

  A short while after Franklin finished dinner, May came knocking on the door, with Darryl on her heels. “No, he’s not going out with you, not anywhere,” she argued as they walked in.

  “But I think we can damage this thing, maybe kill it,” Darryl said.

  “Y’all are more likely to get yourselves killed,” May said. She took one look at Franklin. “Get over here, into the light,” she ordered.

  Sheepishly, Franklin moved into the light in the kitchen.

  “What the hell did you do to yourself?” May asked. “You forget your antibiotics?”

  Franklin shook his head, then explained how Adrianna had been trying to help, but had ended up feeding the creature instead.

  “So it’s stronger, now, than it was?” May asked. “And you two fools think you’re gonna stop it with a little salt lick?”

  A knock came at the door.

  “Lord help me. Three fools?” May asked when she saw Preacher Sinclair standing on the porch.

  “I beg your pardon?” the preacher asked, his tone chilly.

  “Never mind,” May said. “I need to change this one’s bandages, and then y’all can go barreling into Hell as far as I’m concerned. Come on.” She stalked out of the room.

  “There’s some tea, reverend,” Franklin said. “I’ll be right back.” He squeezed past May in the tiny bathroom, sitting down on the closed commode.

  May closed the door. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, getting the preacher involved?” she whispered urgently.

  “The thing’s evil,” Franklin whispered back. “Like a demon. Maybe the preacher can help.”

  “You think prayers are gonna stop what did this to you?” May asked, raising up Franklin’s arm, showing him the puffed-up stitches.

  “The power lines that Adrianna raised could have been from God,” Franklin said stubbornly. “They sure as hell weren’t human.”

  May shook her head and angrily yanked the tape off Franklin’s back.

  “Ow!” he complained.

  “You’re gonna hurt so much worse before the night’s out,” May warned darkly. “Take my word.”

  She wouldn’t say anything else as she quickly bandaged him back up, admonishing him not to forget his pills before she marched right back out the front door.

  “I take it she doesn’t approve of this venture,” Preacher Sinclair said.

  “No sir, she don’t,” Darryl replied.

  “I’ll talk with her Sunday,” the preacher said. He paused, took a deep breath, clasped his hands in front of him, and started in. “I prayed long and hard before coming to this decision. It was as though God was showing me a clear path, a new direction,” the preacher said, gaining steam. “Lord, I asked him, where should I go? Has the devil taken form here, on earth? And the Lord said, Son—’cause he always calls me son—Son, you should go. You should believe. You need to truly know evil before you can do good.” The preacher put one hand up in the air and the other over his heart. “I swear the Word had never been so clear.”

  Franklin didn’t know what to believe. Had the preacher really been speaking to God? Or was it just for show, like his sermons where he got so riled up?

  “That’s great, reverend,” Darryl said dryly. “But we should get going. Bring your lard,” he added to Franklin as h
e walked out.

  “Lead the way,” the preacher said. “I am your humble follower in this pursuit.”

  Franklin shook his head as he picked up the jar of lard and locked the door. May might have been right. They was all gonna hurt before the night was out.

  Darryl proudly lowered the back of the truck bed, showing the two-foot-square cube of salt he had back there. It oozed with antibiotic cream. “Spread it on top, thick,” Darryl directed, handing Franklin a plastic knife.

  Franklin dipped into lard with a sigh, then dripped it onto the top of the salt lick. He hated wasting good lard this way. Maybe he should have just gotten some bacon grease or something instead.

  Hopefully, though, the creature would like it enough that it might also lick up the antibiotic cream, and do some damage to itself.

  They all jammed together into the front of Darryl’s truck, Franklin in the middle, boxed in by Darryl and the preacher. “We going out to Lexine’s cabin?” Franklin asked as Darryl peeled out of the driveway, jostling Franklin’s back and causing pain to shoot up his spine.

  “That way, yeah,” Darryl said. “So we got the salt lick, and we’ve covered it with stuff we hope is poisonous to the creature. What you got, reverend?”

  “The power of prayer,” Preacher Sinclair said sincerely. “If that thing is as evil as y’all claim, it should falter when faced with the Word of God.”

  Franklin shook his head but didn’t say anything. He wanted to believe the reverend. He did.

  He was afraid, though, that they were all heading straight for disaster.

  * * *

  The woods hid all the light from the sky, tripling the dark. Franklin didn’t like how closed in they felt. He didn’t see Sweet Bess, but he could swear he heard her snorting, somewhere close.

  Darryl had placed the lick out on the road, in the beams of the headlights from the truck. They sat, the three of them, sweating in the cab of the truck, waiting for something to happen.

  “Did you hear the one about—” Darryl started.

  Franklin thwapped him on the thigh.

  “What? It was clean. Mostly,” Darryl said, unrepentant.

  “You may not believe it, but I was a young man myself, once,” Preacher Sinclair said. “I remember those jokes, and that time when flesh was the only thing on my mind.”