by Brett McKay
Jax was going out to a movie with his family, so he’d shot off right after the meeting, but Gary and I rode side by side.
“You’re still sleeping over, right?” I asked Gary.
“Yeah. My mom said I could.” He pushed his large glasses up to the bridge of his nose where they belonged and flashed me his usual sly grin. “I’ll just grab some things from home and be right over.”
“Cool. My mom rented some movies and a VCR. She let me pick one out. I got Clash of the Titans!”
I loved Clash of the Titans. Of course, I loved anything fantasy with swords, sorcery, and monsters. My mom let us watch it alone because she didn’t care for that kind of stuff, and I was glad for that because a couple of parts showed a woman’s bare top, and watching those scenes with my mom was uncomfortable. But wouldn’t you know it, she stuck her head in the room to ask us if we needed any more drinks during the only six seconds of bare boobs in the whole two-hour movie!
After the movie, Gary and I sat up, halfway out of our sleeping bags on the floor of the living room, all the lights out except for a dim table lamp, and we shuffled through each other’s stacks of Star Wars trading cards.
“I have a duplicate of Chewbacca wearing the gas mask and holding his crossbow,” I said.
“The one when they’re inside that creature’s stomach!”
“Yeah, it’s pretty sweet. Probably my favorite of Chewy.”
“Cool. Thanks.”
I handed it over to him and tugged a piece of licorice off with my teeth.
“So where have you been lately?” Gary asked.
My smile dropped, and my eyes turned to the ground. I was nervous to tell him. I thought he would be mad at me either for sneaking around on Beaumont and Lester without him or for hanging out with Dawn. Either way, I couldn’t win. “Nowhere really. Just doing stuff.”
“Doing stuff?” He called me out.
I nodded, keeping silent.
“We could use your help with the fort. Rosco really knows what he’s doing, and we’re almost finished.”
“That’s cool. I’ll have to come see it.”
“See it?” He gave me a sideways look, like he couldn’t believe what I’d just said.
“I’ll come help you guys. Sorry I haven’t been there, man.”
He shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess.”
“I, um, I’ve been hanging out with Dawn.”
“Really? Is she your girlfriend now?”
“No. We’re just good friends. I ran into her at the library, and we just started hanging out.”
“We came by yesterday and the day before, but you weren’t there. I just wondered what you were doing, if you were hanging out with Matt again or you didn’t like us anymore or something.”
“No, of course I still like you guys. We’re best pals. It’s just... I don’t know. I was with Dawn and got caught up in doing stuff.”
“What stuff? And what were you doing at the library?”
I saw myself in the reflection of his glasses. My face had gone dark and sullen again. He knew something was up. I had to confess.
“I’ve been doing some research.”
“What kind?”
“The Crooked House kind.”
His face went white like he’d seen the ghost again. He trembled, and genuine fear crossed his eyes. “Why can’t you leave that place alone?”
Because the ghost lady came to my house and returned my pillow. I think she wants me to help. But I couldn’t tell him that. “I don’t know. I feel a responsibility. Mr. Beaumont and Lester are up to something. I don’t know what it is, but people are dying and going missing. Like Joanna, and I know Beaumont killed his wife. Plus, Dawn and I heard them talking like they might hurt more people, and Lester admitted he hears voices in his head.”
“Creepy. You’ve got to tell the police—or your parents!”
“I told Sheriff Packard everything already. I think he believes me even though he won’t admit it. He says there’s no evidence to go on.”
“What is it you think you can do?”
“I just have to find out what they’re doing, what their plan is for this town before it’s too late. Parents aren’t going to believe me, and the cops aren’t going to do anything. It’s all up to me.”
We stared at each other in silence for a moment in the dim light. Nothing made a sound but the ticking of the clock in the kitchen. No doubt sensing my desperation and passion, he gave me a firm nod.
“Then I’m with you,” he said firmly.
I hadn’t realized I needed his support until he said that. My shoulders relaxed, like he’d lifted a weight off them. I needed my friends. “You are?”
“Yes. That’s how this works. We’re the Black Widows, for hell’s sakes.”
I laughed out loud, and so did he. It set off a chain reaction of giggles that we couldn’t stop.
“Boys!” my dad called from the back room. “Time to go to sleep. It’s late.”
It didn’t stop our laughter, but we covered our mouths to quiet the chuckles.
Gary was utterly terrified of that house. I could tell from his reaction every time someone brought it up. He was scared of the ghost who haunted it. The shock of seeing a ghost had already taken a piece of who he was, and he would never get that back. Still, without any hesitation, he was willing to stand beside me and face the horror together.
“Thanks,” I said with sincerity, and he nodded.
I turned out the light, and we lay down. We fell asleep within the next twenty minutes, and I slept soundly for the first time in a while.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Death of Todd Harrison
They said it was an accident. His car had gone off the highway, and he was rushed to the hospital and died soon after, from trauma to the brain.
These were the only pieces of information my mind could process while my mom and dad sat me down and told me Todd Harrison was dead. I felt numb, and my head was cloudy. I’d just seen my Scout leader the other night. And now he’s gone?
His body was prepared at the mortuary, then Beaumont and Lester brought him to the church for the viewing and the services. I was relieved, as I think the rest of the people were, that we didn’t have to go through another cold, heartless service at Beaumont’s mortuary. Beaumont and Lester kept a low profile and didn’t interact with anyone.
I still couldn’t believe Todd was gone, and I continued to not believe it until I witnessed his body lying in the casket. Right then, I realized why the viewing was so important—for closure. Seeing Todd Harrison was the moment the reality of mortality hit me.
Dressed in his Sunday best, he didn’t quite look like himself. His skin was orange from the makeup, and his face lacked expression, which was in direct contrast to his animated expressions in life. His stone-cold look made him unrecognizable. Above his right eye was a six-inch scar that disappeared into his scalp.
I studied his face for a long moment, scared his eyes would flutter open suddenly and that he would grab me with his cold hands and say, “I’m not dead. They made a mistake.” Because how could he be gone?
I turned to see some of my fellow Scouts gathered by the sofa in the foyer. Tears pooled in most of their red eyes, and Billy trembled, on the verge of weeping. Billy broke and ran into his mother’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably. I couldn’t blame him. I wanted to do the same. We’d all lost a good friend and mentor.
I wandered toward the entrance, where my family stood, and overheard a lady say, “This is just too much. Two funerals in under a month. And he was so young. Not to mention the Anderson daughter who went missing.”
Another lady answered, “Poor Angie. She’s left with three kids now to raise on her own. We brought dinner to them last night. She’s holding strong, but you know she wants to fall apart.”
Not wanting to look at anyone, I kept my eyes to the floor. A hand, a girl’s hand, reached out low in front of me and took mine. I looked up and caught Dawn’s eyes. They were sa
d and watery, not for the loss, but for me. Her mouth pulled up slightly at both ends in a solemn smile.
“Hi,” I said.
“How are you?”
“Okay,” I lied.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“Thanks.”
She gave my hand a squeeze, released it, and walked back to her family.
Billy’s sobs got louder, and his crying triggered mine. Tears filled my eyes and spilled over, my chest tightened and convulsed, and I hurried to my mom, who wrapped me in her arms. We left shortly after that. On the way home, my parents stopped at the store and ran in to buy a brownie mix and ice cream. My brothers and I stayed in the back of the station wagon. The slight breeze that blew in through the open windows wasn’t enough to cool us from the heat. We tore off our ties and unbuttoned our shirts, flaring out our collars to release the trapped heat. Tadd pulled out his electronic handheld football game and was immediately lost in it. Scott tilted his head back and closed his eyes to catch a nap.
Jeff turned to me with genuine concern. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I nodded.
“It’s pretty messed up what happened to Todd. He was a good guy.”
“He was. I still can’t believe what happened.”
Jeff and I shared the middle place in our family. Tadd picked on Jeff, and Scott always pestered me. Because of that, we shared a sense of understanding. I found it easier to talk with Jeff about certain things.
“It’s pretty shitty how someone ran him off the road.”
I snapped around in shock as if a splash of cold water had hit my face.
“Ran him off the road? I hadn’t heard that.”
“It was a hit-and-run. That’s what Larry said.” Jeff’s friend Larry was a reliable source as he was the son of the previous sheriff. “Larry said there were scrapes up and down the side of his car only another vehicle could have made. They left black marks from the paint of the other vehicle. Todd’s car was bright red, so if you see a black car with red paint scratches on it”—he eyed me while nodding his head—“good chance that’s the guy.”
Once home, we all ran to our bedrooms to tear off our uncomfortable clothes and dress in our “comfies.” Scott and I went into our room, and I slipped into shorts and a T-shirt and hung my dress clothes up in the closet. Scott threw his off and left them on the floor. The rest of the night was quiet. We ate our brownies and ice cream and watched a John Wayne movie on the TV, but I couldn’t pay attention to it. My mind swam with the new possibility that Todd Harrison hadn’t suffered from an accident, but was murdered.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Another Vanishing
Todd’s death continued to hang over me like a shroud of sadness, but finding out how he’d been killed started a fire of rage in my belly. I was bent on finding the black car with red paint scratches. I rode through our neighborhood, scouring vehicles for signs of the crash, but I came up empty. I went to Lester’s house, but his car was gone. I was disappointed because his car was black. I rode to the mortuary with high hopes, but the parking lot was empty except for an old Ford truck.
I rode my bike slowly back to our neighborhood. I turned in the direction of the Moguls, where my friends were, and stopped at the head of Dawn’s street. I looked at her house. No one was outside. I wanted to ask her—and Morgan—to join us, but I was afraid of upsetting my friends. I needed to make sure we were okay before I tried bringing the girls along, so I went to see my friends first. I continued to ride until the pavement gave way to a dirt road and opened up into the wide field of rolling dirt hills that stretched for two miles. My friends were at the tail end of a line of hills, which was next to the dirt road and the entrance to the neighborhood, working on our fort.
When I got there, Rosco, Gary, and Jax were already digging.
“Hey, Ret, come see what we’ve done!” Jax called out.
“We’ve got a bona fide fort right here.” Rosco’s smile spread up to his ears.
“Wow!” I said, genuinely impressed. The entrance was double the size I remembered it being. I still had to duck my head to get in, but that wasn’t bad. I sensed the excitement from the others as I crawled in.
“Look how deep it goes,” Gary said.
“We done dug a bunch out since last time. Dug deeper into the ground too, so we can sit in here without bumpin’ our heads,” Rosco explained.
I sat down, and the ceiling was two or three inches above my head. They’d built two support beams with some old two-by-fours my dad had lying around. It looked solid, but probably wasn’t up to the state’s building code. The dirt was moist and cool to the touch, and the fort smelled of freshly dug earth. I was amazed.
“This is really awesome,” I said.
“Dig any further, and we’ll find gold or China!” Rosco laughed.
All four of us crawled into the cave and scooted into a crude circle.
“We can all fit in here!” Gary exclaimed.
“With room to spare,” Rosco added.
“We’re gonna get some dates and bring girls here,” Jax stated with confidence.
“Speaking of girls,” Gary said, eyeballing me. “How is Dawn?”
“Yeah, heard you got a girlfriend.” Rosco elbowed my side, chuckling. “You kiss her yet?”
“No.” I shook my head, and my face got hot. “Honestly, we’re just friends.”
“You gotta kiss her!” Rosco bellowed. “With tongue.” He wiggled his tongue in a repulsive manner which caused us all to twist our faces in disgust.
“Gross,” Gary said.
“I’m not going to do that,” I stated.
“That’s what she’d want,” Rosco went on. “I had me a girlfriend back in Texas, and we went out behind her shed one day, and she grabbed my shirt and planted one right square on my lips! So I kissed her back, and then she stuck her tongue in my—”
“Okay, okay.” I stopped him. “That’s enough. I’m getting too many images in my head I can’t erase.”
We all had a good laugh, then I heard footsteps outside.
“Ret?” It was Dawn’s voice, and my friends made funny faces at me.
I crawled out of the cave and stood up to see that Morgan was next to her. “Hey, Dawn. Hey, Morg. Whatcha guys doing?”
The rest of my friends shuffled out of the cave.
“You guys building a fort?” Dawn asked.
“Yeah,” Rosco said.
“Looks more like a cave,” Morgan snarked.
“It’s our man cave,” Jax said proudly.
“Looks more like a kiddie cave,” Morgan remarked, and Jax frowned.
Dawn bent to her knees and crawled inside it, nodding. She gripped the support beams and gave them a firm shake. “You got good supports in here. Could use a couple more in the back before this roof caves in.”
Rosco gave me a surprised look.
Dawn stood up, smacking the dirt off her hands. “If you guys would like some help, I have some more two-by-fours at my house.”
“What do you know ’bout buildin’?” Rosco asked.
“My dad’s an engineer. He’s built a thing a two, and I’ve always helped him out.”
Rosco was hesitant at first, then grinned widely. “All right then. Let’s do it.”
Dawn flashed me a smile. “Do you wanna help me get the wood?”
“Uh, yeah, of course.”
I heard the boys oohing and ahhing under their breaths as I followed Dawn away from the cave.
Morgan stayed with the boys and the cave. As Dawn and I walked away, she asked them, “It’s hot out here. How do you stand it?”
“It’s cool here in the cave. At least by twenty degrees. Try it out,” Jax said.
“I hope this is okay,” Dawn said to me.
“Are you kidding? I’m glad you showed up. I want you to get to know my friends, and this will be fun.”
Dawn and I collected the boards, and we all went to work. Both Dawn and Morgan helped dig, carry dirt, and pl
ant the support beams, and we increased the size of the cave by at least two more feet, including a few more inches of head clearance.
Dawn and Morgan left for a few minutes and returned with cold Shastas, then we all sat inside our cave and drank our sodas.
“Well? What do you think?” Jax asked Morgan.
She nodded. “Okay, this is cool.”
“So, is it still a man cave?” Dawn asked.
“I think we can rename it.” I looked at the boys for agreement. Gary and Rosco nodded, and Jax shrugged.
“What should we call it?” Gary asked Morgan.
“How about Cueva?” Morgan’s face lit up.
“Cueva? What in the hell is that?” Rosco asked.
“It’s ‘cave’ in Spanish. My mom knows Spanish, and I’ve learned a little.” Her tone lifted with pride.
“I like it,” Jax said, and we all agreed the fort’s new name was Cueva.
My hands were caked with dirt, soil lined my fingernails, and my whole body was pouring sweat. Dirt smeared Dawn’s forehead where she’d wiped sweat away with her soiled hand.
“That about does it for today, boys,” Rosco said as the sun dipped behind the mountains. “At least we got new support beams in thanks to Dawn.”
As we crawled out of Cueva, Mr. Tally, whom I recognized from church, walked toward us from the dirt road. I didn’t know his first name, but I thought he was in his late fifties. His eyes turned down in a sorrowful way, and his lips quivered when he talked.
“You kids know Andrea Johnson? She’d be not much older than you. Thirteen, I ’spect.” He handed me a wallet-sized picture of her—a school headshot. Her long blond hair draped over her shoulders, and brown eyes sparkled over a radiant smile. She was wearing a peach dress, and I recognized her immediately. I knew of her, but not directly. She was in different classes.
The others nodded, and I answered, “Yes.”
“She’s gone missing—” He choked on his words. “Last seen with her mother at the gas station just across the street from our neighborhood. She went in to pay for gas, and when she come out, Andrea was gone. No one saw what happened. She been by here? She was wearin’ a blue dress. Silk, I think, and black shiny shoes.”