by R. W. Ridley
The old man perked up when he saw her. He grinned an awful grin and stood up. “Well, who’s this?”
“This, Mr. Howard,” said Mr. Budd, “is our top angel, Gracie.”
The old man went into a spooky trance, and stared at the girl. Grace smiled and looked away.
Mr. Budd broke the uncomfortable silence. “So, you got twenty acres do you, Mr. Howard?”
“Hmm, oh yes, twenty. Gorgeous if I do say so myself. Milking cows, Rhode Island Reds. Even got me a Swedish cook. He speaks about four words of English, but he cooks like a master chef. Got a small crew of people working for me. Don’t mind telling you I’ve had some of them going on ten years. I try to create a family-like environment on the farm. We have picnics and potlucks. Even kin is invited. It’s important to me for my workers to feel like my home is theirs.”
“He came for the boy,” I said.
Again, the dead boy didn’t answer. He continued to shake his head.
“But he’ll leave with the girl.” I backed away from the window. “I don’t understand why I have to see this.”
The boy took my hand and tugged. In an instant, we were standing in the family’s dining room. I could not tell you how we arrived there if you tortured me with a thousand needles to the eye. We were just there in a flash. The air was filled with the heavy stench of cooked cabbage. The Budd family, minus Eddie the son, and the old gray man sat at the table and clanged silverware against porcelain as they scooped up potted cheese, strawberries, ham hocks, and sauerkraut.
The old man politely ate. He had no interest in the food. Not that food anyway. He continued to stare at Grace. The family didn’t seem to notice. They were so wrapped up in their food, they all jumped at the sound of the old man’s voice.
“Come here, little Grace,” he said, “and sit on an old man’s lap.” He pushed his chair away from the table.
Grace looked at her mother who in turned looked at the man she knew as Mr. Howard. He smiled warmly. She nodded to her daughter to do as the man asked.
Grace stood and slowly approached the old gray man. He reached down, picked her up, and placed her on his lap. He looked like he was about to drool all over himself. For the first time, I wished I could do more than just watch. I so wanted to belong to that time so I could deck the old man. Beat him within an inch of his life. I couldn’t believe her parents just sat there and took it in. Didn’t they see that their daughter was in the hands of an evil monster?
The old man reached in his pocket pulled out a stack of cash. “Sweetie, do Uncle Howard a favor and count out the money for me.” He laid out the money on the table. “Hold on. Got some pocket change, too.” He let the coins fall on the wood surface of the table.
Grace’s eyes opened wide at the sight of so much money. Her parents stopped eating mid-chew, and watched with anticipation as Grace counted out the bills. Mrs. Budd even managed a smile, although I’m not sure she was aware of it. No one in the Budd family had ever seen so much money.
“Ninety-two dollars and fifty cents,” Grace proclaimed.
“Well by golly, that is fifty cents too much.”
“It is?” Grace asked.
“Got plenty I can do with $92, but I can’t think of one thing I can do with that extra fifty cents.”
Grace considered the matter. “You could buy some candy.”
He chuckled. “I suppose I could, but these old teeth of mine can’t handle candy. If I only knew someone with young enough teeth that liked candy.”
“I like candy,” Beatrice barked.
“And her teeth are the youngest here,” Grace added.
“Now that’s an idea.” He winked at Mrs. Budd. “I tell you what, Grace. Why don’t you take those coins and buy some candy for you and your sister down at the corner store.”
Beatrice sat up straight like she had been shocked to life. Grace looked at her father for permission.
“Do as Mr. Howard says,” Mr. Budd said. “Take Beatrice with you. Mind the streets and stick to the walk.”
Grace jumped off the old man’s lap, but he grabbed her skinny arm before she could get too far away. “Give Uncle Howard a little kiss on the cheek.”
Grace recoiled and then relented. She quickly leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek.
The old man’s eyes lit up.
Grace pulled away, took her sister’s hand, and bolted for the front door.
The children gone, the adults settled into a series of friendly conversations about farming, about Mr. Budd’s job as a doorman, about church and God and a trip to China Mr. Howard had taken years ago.
“Awful country, that,” he said sipping some coffee.
“Really? I always find the Orientals so pleasant,” Mrs. Budd said, spreading some sweet cheese on a hard roll.
“The ones in this country, I agree,” the old man said. “But over there, the economy is in such a state, the poor people are forced to live like animals.”
“How so?” Mr. Budd asked.
The old man cocked his head to the right. “I’m afraid most of what they do I can’t repeat at the supper table, especially one as fine as this with such lovely occupants.” He gave a nod to Mrs. Budd causing her to blush.
“Come on now, Mr. Howard,” Mr. Budd pleaded. “The Mrs. and I haven’t had much opportunity to travel abroad and most likely won’t ever get to. Share one fact with us.”
The old man began to speak, but stopped abruptly. He turned to Mrs. Budd. “Only with the lady’s permission.”
She seemed taken aback by his refinement. I wanted to puke because I knew it was an act. She blushed again and nodded.
“Very well.” The old man leaned back. “Wages are small and meat is scarce. People are literally starving to death. It’s an ugly way to die, Mrs. Budd. I wouldn’t wish it on anybody. I suppose we can’t judge them too harshly for what they’ve been reduced to doing.” He gulped his coffee and didn’t continue.
“What would that be, Mr. Howard?” Mr. Budd asked
The old man had gone into a trance state again. He shook iit off. “Hmmm, oh no, Mr. Budd. It’s too horrid.”
Mrs. Budd looked as if she were preparing herself to be repulsed. Her brow was furrowed and eyes had narrowed. Her head was turned slightly to the right as if she was trying to minimize the impact of the ending to the old man’s story. “You may continue, Mr. Howard. I’ll be all right.”
He reached out and patted her hand. “Just remember, I’m telling this story against my better judgment.”
“We will hold you blameless, Mr. Howard,” Mr. Budd said. “Rest assured.”
The old gray man cleared his throat. He surveyed the room and fixed his gaze on me. My mouth went dry. Surely he couldn’t see me. I was standing behind Mr. Budd, so maybe it just seemed like he was looking at me. I saw a small smile form on his face and then it quickly disappeared.
“They sell children under twelve as meat.”
The sentence cut through the air and shattered the innocent feel of the Budd house. Nothing so evil had ever been spoken in the home before. Mrs. Budd covered her mouth with her hand.
Mr. Budd fidgeted in his chair. “That can’t be true,” he said.
“I’m afraid it is. A business associate saw it with his own eyes.”
“Saw?” Mrs. Budd reflexively asked.
“Walked into a butcher shop to order veal.”
“So,” Mr. Budd said.
“The door to the back room opened and he saw… a boy, cut in half hanging from a meat hook like beef cattle.”
Mrs. Budd screamed.
The old man reached out and gently grabbed her hand. “I warned you it was ugly. I’ll have you know I went to the authorities there and reported the incident. I was as outraged as you are now.”
“What happened?” Mr. Budd asked.
“I was escorted to the nearest port and put on a ship to New Zealand.”
“I don’t understand,” Mrs. Budd said.
“The Chinese government knows
about the deplorable practice, Mrs. Budd. They allow it to go on. I’ve written the governor of New York, my congressman, even sent a telegram to the president. I’ve never gotten a response. I suppose they think it’s too sensational to be true.” He sipped his coffee.
“What about your business associate?” Mr. Budd asked. “If he were to back up your claims…”
“That isn’t possible, Mr. Budd.”
“Why?”
The old man sighed as if he were in great emotional pain. “He was in the country for six months. When you’re in a foreign country that long, you develop a lot of the local customs and way of living.”
“What are you saying?” Mrs. Budd asked.
He frowned. “I think you know, madam.”
“No,” Mr. Budd said.
“Yes,” the old man replied.
“He ate the meat?” Mr. Budd asked just so there was no misunderstanding.
“Worse than that. He developed a taste for it. I got a horrible letter from him describing how wonderfully sweet the meat is. I shredded the letter to pieces it so incensed me. I tell you, if I ever lay eyes on him… Children are precious, Mrs. Budd. I treasure them. You can’t blame me for what I would do to that man.” Tears started to flow down his cheek.
I stood in awe of the old man’s performance. He even convinced me he was disgusted by the thought of eating children, and I knew what he really was. The Budds didn’t have a chance.
Mrs. Budd reached across the table and patted his hand. “Mr. Howard, don’t dare tell me the man’s name because I would hunt him down in a week’s time and make him pay in the most painful way possible.”
The old man looked at Mrs. Budd with surprise and then started with a small chuckle that turned into a hardy laugh. The Budds joined in. They were so enjoying themselves that they didn’t notice when Grace and Beatrice returned with their brother Eddie and his friend Willie Korman.
The children stood at the edge of the room and watched in amazement as the adults yucked it up. Mrs. Budd was the first to acknowledge them.
“You’re late,” she said to Eddie.
“We got a game of stickball going. Went long.”
“Mr. Howard’s a busy man, boys,” Mr. Budd said. “Can’t make him wait like that.”
“Sorry, Mr. Howard,” the boys said in unison.
He waved them off. “Nonsense. Who’s your friend, Eddie?”
“This is Willie Korman, sir. He’s strong. Seen him lift fifty pounds over his head.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, sir,” Willie said.
“We was wondering if you could use him on the farm, too, Mr. Howard.”
“You were, were you?” The old man examined the boy. “I’ll have to have a talk with his parents.”
“They don’t mind,” Willie said.
“I’m sure they don’t, but I can’t have them reporting me for kidnapping,” the old man laughed. He pulled out his pocket watch. “I’ve got time to visit your house before I go back to the country. In fact, I just found out yesterday my sister is having a birthday party for my niece this afternoon, and I won’t be heading back until tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Eddie said sounding disappointed.
The old man laughed. “The boy is certainly anxious to start earning money.”
“He looks at it as an adventure,” Mrs. Budd said.
“Indeed.” The old man pulled the money out of his pocket again and handed two dollars to Eddie. “Round up all your friends and see a picture show on me. You and I will head over to Willie’s house in the morning and then we’ll start your adventure.”
Eddie stared at the money as if it were a pot of gold. “Whoa.” He unintentionally yanked the money out of the old man’s gnarled hands. The two boys exited the house giggling the whole way.
The old man stood. “I should be going. My sister is expecting me.” He took one last sip of his coffee, smiled and then did a half turn toward the door to the hallway before he stopped. “Say, I just had a thought.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. “My niece is Grace’s age. This party is going to be full of little girls just like her. I would be the hit of the party if I brought more than my brittle old bones.”
The Budds were thrown by the request. They looked at each other for guidance. Each one wanting to defer to the other.
Mrs. Budd said, “I don’t know. Grace doesn’t usually like to take trips.”
“I’ll be her escort,” the old man said. “No need to worry. She’ll have the time of her life. There will be cake and ice cream, and a pony…”
“A pony?” Grace said excitedly.
“That’s too much trouble for you, Mr. Howard,” Mr. Budd argued.
“I’d enjoy the company on the train.” He looked at the paper. “My sister lives in a nice building on Columbus Avenue, 137th street.”
There was a moment of silence while the Budds considered it.
I darted from Mrs. Budd to Mr. Budd screaming at the top my lungs. “Don’t let her go! Don’t do it! Please, don’t let her go!” Of course, they couldn’t hear me, but I thought if I could just shout loud enough, some part of the message would break through.
Mrs. Budd smiled. “C’mon, Grace. Let’s get you in your party dress.”
I rushed to the dead boy and yanked him up by his collar. “Why am I here? Let me help her!”
He did what he did best, gave me a cold, pointless stare.
“I don’t understand what I am supposed to do.” I released him and was only mildly surprised to find that my location had changed. I was no longer in the Budds’ home. I was standing next to the newsstand. The operator was holding the old man’s package. He wanted to open it. I could see it in his eyes. I wanted him to open it.
A girl giggled and startled the newsstand operator. He quickly put the package back from where he had retrieved it. The giggle belonged to Grace. The old gray man was guiding her down the street. He had not seen the operator examining his package. He was too enthralled by the little girl.
“Enjoy your lunch, sir?”
“Indeed I did.”
“I see you picked up a pretty young friend.”
“The prettiest. We’re on our way to a party.”
“My, doesn’t that sound grand. A fine day for it.”
“Yes,” the old gray man said. He was growing impatient. He wanted to be on his way. He wanted to get to… it. “You still have my package, I trust.”
“I do.” The newsstand operator bent down and picked up the package. “Is this for the party?”
“No,” the old man said.
“The girl, then?”
The old man shook his head.
“It’s a secret, is it?”
The old gray man stiffened. He scowled and shot darts with his eyes at the newsstand worker. “These are my tools of the trade. I’d be lost without them.” He shoved the package under his arm and took Grace’s hand.
The newsstand operator felt the same fear I’d felt in the basement of the Biltmore. I could see it in his face. He knew just as I did that Grace was being led to her death, and he knew that death would be more horrific than anyone could ever imagine. He felt it in his bones.
I stood inches from the newsstand operator’s face and shouted, “Stop them!” If I could just shout loud enough, he could hear me. I knew it. “You know what’s going to happen to her! Stop them! Please!”
He followed the old gray man and Grace in a desperate stare until they disappeared around the corner. He sighed, pulled his stool closer, and sat down. He ran a shaky hand through his sweat-drenched hair and then examined both hands. In a low whisper he said, “The devil’s tools.”
DAY 2
TWELVE
I woke up to a voice whispering “devil’s tools” in my ear. I lay at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the fourth floor. I didn’t remember descending them. I slowly became aware of a series of dull pains shooting through my back to my knees and then to my head. I was hur
ting and if I had to guess why, I’d say I fell down the stairs.
I sat up gingerly. I tested the areas that hurt the most for broken bones. As far as I could tell, everything was intact. Rubbing the back of my head, I found a good sized lump that was tender to the touch, but it was nothing I couldn’t deal with on my own.
What had happened to me? I had been at the top of the stairs… the girl in black grabbed my hand… the ground fell away. Had I just fallen down the stairs? Knocked myself out and had some weird hallucination while I was unconscious? Is that all it was?
No, I was there. I had gone to the Land of the Dead. I was sure of it. I had seen the Flish, the Budds… Grace. I don’t know what I was supposed to do with the information, but I had no doubt that I was actually there.
I heard a crackle, pop, and then a hiss. I recognized it immediately. Someone was calling me on my two-way. The problem was .. where was my two-way? I scanned my surroundings and had difficulty focusing in the dark. I crawled around the immediate area on my hands and knees and listened carefully. “Oz?” a voice said through a wave of static. I placed my hand in front of me and felt the nylon fabric of the backpack. Frantically and clumsily, I opened the pack and pulled out the two-way.
“Go for Oz,” I sighed.
“I think… Ty… April.” I didn’t recognize the voice. The static was heavy. I couldn’t make out every word.
“Say again.”
“Tyrone… insane… April… eat her.” I heard a scream through the crackling.
“Who is this? Where are you?”
The voice came again. It was Lou. She talked slowly and deliberately this time. “I heard… Tyrone… on the radio. It sounds like… he has April. He’s going to… eat her… winter garden.”
“Winter garden?” I couldn’t think straight. What winter garden? Then it hit me. The main floor, it was a glassed indoor garden. “I’ll go. Just stay clear.”
I heard another scream through the radio followed by a roar from Ajax. “Stop…” was the last thing I heard.
I stood, shook off the stiffness from the pain, and prepared to make my way down to Lou as quickly as possible. A small figure darted out of a nearby corner and wobbled toward me. It was a boy, a small smiling boy. A large, white furry mass followed closely behind him. Tarek. That meant the boy must have been…Nate. My Storyteller. He was walking. He could barely keep his head up by himself when I’d last seen him. He had grown so much and so fast. I was elated. Not because I hadn’t seen him in such a long time. I was elated because I was hungry, and this small boy would hit the spot. I took a step toward him and was quickly knocked on my backside by Tarek, the Keeper who had helped me defeat the Takers.