The Conch Shell of Doom

by Ryan Hill

  “What happened with you and Jenny? I’ve always wondered, and she refuses to talk about it. Even tried to play the cancer card with her.”

  Jenny didn’t give Alexis an answer for a good reason, though saying no to the cancer card took some guts. Bailey would’ve folded in an instant. He never got an answer from Jenny about why she never told anyone. Every time Bailey got within ten feet of Jenny, she ran away.

  “What happened?” Alexis asked

  Bailey covered his mouth with his hands. “I ‘ew uh ih ‘er mou why I eh iss her.”

  Alexis scrunched her face, confused about what Bailey said. Good. Bailey didn’t want her to understand. Alexis clapped.

  “I’ve got it,” she said. “You have to tell the truth, but there’s nothing that says you can’t cover your mouth when do it. Sneaky move, Southwick.”

  “Ank you.” Busted or not, Bailey wasn’t about to remove his hands.

  “Still, I’d like to know what you said. Here, let me help. You’ve got something blocking your mouth.” She took his hands and gently peeled them away, leaving him free to speak clearly. “That’s better. You were saying?”

  “I threw up as I was starting to kiss her,” Bailey mumbled, upset he didn’t figure out the loopholes earlier.

  “Say it like a normal person.”

  “I threw up as I was going to kiss her. Right in her mouth.”

  Alexis’s eyes widened. “Wow. I wasn’t expecting that.”

  Bailey shook his head, frustrated. “You’re mean.”

  “Right? Next question.”

  “No more questions.” Bailey flopped back on the bed. He stared at the ceiling fan, wishing one of the blades would fall off and slit his throat. “This is torture.”

  “Just one more, and then I’m done. Promise.”

  Bailey threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine. But I want my protest noted for the record.”

  “Noted.”

  He turned on his side, away from Alexis. “Okay. Hit me with it.”

  She laughed, pulling him back to where he was. “I’m pretty sure I know the answer to this one already, but I want it on the record, right next to your protest.”

  “It’s not like I can stop you, so just ask.”

  “Your comment about how I look in the moonlight, freaking out and saying what you did after Marshall saying you liked me. You do like me, don’t you?”

  Bailey hmmed, his nerves flared up, begging to figure out a way to avoid the question, but the truth potion didn’t care about things like nerves. “Yes I do.” Saying the words out loud made Bailey feel ashamed. Like he’d committed some awful crime. He’d tell her how felt in his own roundabout way eventually, but under the spell of a truth potion made it feel cheap. Caring about someone wasn’t anything to feel guilty over. He knew that. It just wasn’t making him feel better. Stupid truth potion.

  Alexis blushed. It looked like she fought back a smile as she turned her head away. Bailey’s heart jumped as if he’d won the lottery. Did she like him too? Was that even possible? When she joked about making out or holding hands during a horror movie, was that some sly way of giving him an opening? Why did he have to find out then, when they could all be dead tomorrow?

  “How long has this been going on?” Alexis leaned back, resting an elbow on the bed.

  Franklin knocked on the door and then poked his head into the room. Bailey and Alexis both sat up straight, giggling like they’d been caught doing something they shouldn’t have.

  Franklin was a little lost for words. “The door was open. I didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s okay,” Alexis said. “Nothing was happening.”

  “Right. We’re taking turns keeping an eye on Deckland. Either of you want first watch?”

  “I do.” Full of excitement, anxiety, and a little frustration that Alexis said nothing was going on, Bailey rushed out of the room.

  Stupid truth potion.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Go Time

  By morning, the storm clouds that brewed near the horizon were close to the beach. Mr. Lovell sat on the patio of the new condo he’d rented, gleefully watching bolts of lightning strike the water and disappear underneath the surface. It was like the clouds threw down lightning; each strike sent up a geyser of seawater. His gloves were tucked inside a jacket pocket. The strong breeze felt soothing to his flayed skin. Inside, Percy watched the news, listening to a weatherman discuss the storm, saying he’d never seen anything like it in his seventeen years of meteorology.

  That’s because this isn’t a normal storm.

  “Anyone watching that’s still in Mooresville, please leave town immediately,” the weatherman said. “The authorities announced an evacuation yesterday ahead of the storm, and you would be wise to get to safety before it’s too late.”

  Mr. Lovell leaned back in his chair, enjoying the view. It was beautiful. “Anybody still here is either with us or will be dead before sundown.”

  I’m assuming you mean Franklin and whomever he’s scammed into helping him.

  “Of course.”

  A storm of biblical proportions was about to hit Mooresville. A homeless guy shouting about the end of days would be a more appropriate choice to read the weather than Bert Weathering, or whatever he was named.

  Bert Weathering. I like that.

  The sky turned black around the storm, like it killed all the air around it. Mr. Lovell stood and glanced down the beach at Hunter’s Bay. They looked no bigger than thumb tacks, but people were there, probably milling about, ready to get the ceremony started. Mr. Lovell put on the gloves, one at a time, his spirit sinking at the sight of his deformed hands.

  Stay strong, my friend. Once I am free, what happened to you will be nothing compared to the rest of the world.

  Mr. Lovell went inside. Percy rose from his chair and turned off the TV.

  “We good?” he asked.

  “Is everything in place?”

  “Just waiting for the curtain to rise.”

  “Then we’re most definitely good.” Mr. Lovell coughed. “Let’s not keep our guests waiting any longer, shall we?”

  “Righteous.” Percy put on sunglasses and a black hat, exactly like the ones Mr. Lovell wore.

  Since El Cid and Julie’s Camaro had both been totaled, Franklin asked the kids if any of them had a car big enough to hold everyone, including Deckland. Alexis drove a late model Jeep Grand Cherokee, which did the trick. Franklin gave her a hundred bucks, called a taxi to take her home, and told her to keep the change. The cab picked her up ten minutes later, and thirty minutes after that she’d returned with her SUV.

  Franklin shoved Deckland through the Jeep’s hatchback into the rear. Marshall and Tim stumbled out of Julie’s apartment, pale and shaky from their hangovers. Franklin took a small amount of glee in their suffering. After all, he did warn them not to drink too much.

  “Fair warning.” Tim held up his hook sword. “I’m probably throwing up on somebody.”

  Franklin sized up the group. A bartender, a handful of kids, half of which were hungover, and none of them with an idea of what they were about to go through. A far cry from the two-dozen French soldiers he’d had the last time Trenton came close to returning. Franklin looked up at the darkening sky and longed for the good old days.

  The Jeep would’ve been a tight squeeze for everyone without Deckland and the weapons, but with them, it was downright suffocating. Alexis drove, with Julie riding shotgun. Franklin sat in the middle row with Bailey and Marshall, plus a sickly Tim sitting in his lap.

  “Why don’t I ever get a seat?” Tim weakly asked.

  “Because you’re the smallest,” Marshall said. “Now don’t go yakking on me, because it’ll make me do it too.”

  Franklin glanced back to make sure Deckland wasn’t causing any trouble. The Scot lay in the fetal position, staring out the hatchback’s window.

  “Why hasn’t it started raining?” Bailey wondered. “It’s like nighttime out there.”
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br />   Franklin sighed. “It will soon enough.”

  They left the Jeep parked far enough away from Hunter’s Bay that nobody on the beach would notice their arrival. Everyone piled out of the Jeep. Alexis opened the hatchback. Franklin pulled Deckland out and let him crash onto the asphalt.

  “You bleedin’ arse.” The ginger refused to stand, despite Franklin trying to help. “You’re going to have to make me get up.”

  “You know.” Franklin pulled Deckland to his feet, then used Julie’s shotgun to force him forward. “For a giant, you sure do act like a little kid sometimes.”

  A swath of trees isolated Hunter’s Bay from the main road, providing more cover as they made their way to the Awakening. Franklin saw why Mooresville’s finest liked congregating here. It hadn’t been touched by construction, and wouldn’t be for a long time to come. They didn’t take more than ten steps into the patch of trees before Tim leaned against one and then threw up all over it.

  “What would your sensei say if he saw you now?” Marshall asked, with the slightest hint of condescension.

  “He’d say something about how nobody likes you.” Tim spit and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “That’s a lie. Everybody fears and adores me in equal parts.”

  Franklin tied Deckland to one of the larger trees close to Tim’s vomit. The smell of stomach bile and scotch made Franklin gag as he finished tying up the Irishman. The stench made it the perfect spot to leave the Irishman.

  “In case you’re wondering if we’re going to just leave you here after everything is over, the answer is yes.”

  Deckland shook his head and made some unintelligible noises through the gag. Whatever he tried to say couldn’t have been family friendly.

  Franklin aimed the shotgun at his face. “I’d shoot you right now, but the sound would give us away.”

  Deckland’s noises sounded defiant, but it didn’t matter. One by one, the group left him behind. Franklin was the last.

  “Enjoy the smell of Tim’s innards.”

  Franklin sprinted ahead, moving past the others as they made their way to the beach. Once the ocean came into view, he made everyone crouch low and move even slower. The thick salt air filled his lungs. He heard people on the beach, but the constant sound of crashing waves made it impossible to know what they were saying.

  Nearing the end of the trees, Franklin had an almost unobstructed view of the beach, where a circle of people in black robes stood with their arms raised. He fought to keep his anger under control. Those were Trenton’s followers on the beach, but they looked like they were performing Phase Three of the Awakening. Worse, Franklin couldn’t spot Mr. Lovell. If he was in the middle of Trenton’s followers, that meant Phase Three was nearing completion. Franklin sucked in his lips, not sure what to do. It’d be a lot easier if he saw Mr. Lovell. As if on cue, two people in the circle moved a few feet apart, providing a clear line of sight.

  Bingo.

  Mr. Lovell, clad in a black coat and hat, stood smack dab in the middle. Franklin exhaled. They’d barely made it in time. The ceremony had already begun, but there was still time to stop it. Thunder clapped in the dark clouds above.

  Franklin glanced back at everyone and then gave the shotgun back to Julie. He took out the Blade of Hugues de Payens. “Ready? There’s no shame if you’re too scared to go.”

  “We piss on danger’s feet,” Tim said.

  Bailey tugged at his armor. “Good to go.”

  Julie gave Franklin a faint smile. “I’m ready.”

  Franklin got in a sprinter’s stance, ready for the final battle. After a few quick breaths to keep his adrenaline under control, he darted for the beach. Bailey and the others fell in line. All of them shouted like they were in the Middle Ages, charging toward the British Army with their swords and spears. The yelling robbed Franklin of the element of surprise, but it didn’t matter. He still had the drop on Mr. Lovell. Trenton’s followers turned toward the ragtag crew rushing down the beach. Odd. None made a move to attack, let alone defend themselves. Franklin crashed into the group, knocking a couple of people down with a clothesline move. Mr. Lovell faced the ocean, making it that much easier to tackle him. Franklin dove, his shoulder crashing into Mr. Lovell’s spine and driving him to the sand face first.

  Ignoring the sand that flew in his mouth, Franklin brought the blade up, ready to stab Mr. Lovell in the back. Franklin should’ve been elated, but something felt off. Not even Mr. Lovell was putting up a fight. At the least, he should’ve tried to teleport away. Franklin made himself stop thinking and strike.

  Wait!

  The blade stopped inches from its target. What the hell? It wasn’t Mr. Lovell. Whoever was about to die had a full head of hair. Mr. Lovell lost all of his in the fire. So who was about to take a knife in the back? Franklin flipped the person over. Shock and disappointment poisoned his soul. He stood and looked up at the sky, wondering which deity should be cursed out first.

  “Come on! Why do you keep screwing with me?”

  “Dude, are you sure you’re in the right place?” Percy smiled up at Franklin. “Pretty sure you just got taken to school, sucker.”

  Franklin should’ve seen it coming. He spit sand out of his mouth, and kicked at the sand, furious with himself. They played him for a fool. Deckland O’Halleran had never surrendered to anyone in his entire life. He still wanted to fight after his ear was ripped off. It was Franklin that ran away, and he was singularly focused on killing Trenton and Mr. Lovell that questioning why Deckland gave himself up never entered into the equation. The whole thing had been an elaborate trap to draw Franklin into danger, and he’d stormed into it like a mouse chasing gourmet cheese without a moment’s hesitation.

  Percy got to his feet, patted sand off of the coat, and then put the hat back on. The smile on his face broke Franklin’s spirit. He’d been played by a buffoon. What did that make him?

  Something the size of a nickel pressed against the back of his head. A gun barrel. Without having to be told, Franklin opened his hand, letting the blade fall to the sand. One of Lovell’s cronies snatched it up.

  “You know, for once, I’m glad I got out of bed early.”

  Turning to see who’d gotten the better of him, Franklin closed his eyes. “And the hits just keep on coming.”

  Portman’s service revolver was aimed at Franklin’s face. Jackson’s was trained on Julie and the kids, despite their hands being up and their weapons in the sand. Knowing that Percy, Portman, and Jackson got the better of him was the ultimate insult. Had he really gotten so slow, so rusty, that those nincompoops got the drop on him that easily? Maybe he really was as stupid as he’d been made to look.

  “Didn’t we tell you to get the hell out of dodge while the gettin’ was good?” Portman asked.

  “And now there’s a mandatory evac,” Jackson said. “Pretty stupid, ignoring that order.”

  “That’s what I was doing,” Franklin said. “We all were. I just wanted one last look at the ocean before I left. Now that I’ve gotten it, I’m good with leaving town.” He motioned at Bailey and the others. “We all are. I just need my blade back.”

  Portman cracked Franklin on the temple with the butt of the gun. He fell to his knees, head ringing like an alarm bell. The world spun around him. Something warm and wet ran down his face and then dripped into the sand. Blood.

  “On a scale of one to ten, how mad are you right now?” Percy lit a cigarette. “It’s got to be at least an eight, right?”

  Portman kicked Franklin over. “Strong nine.”

  “I can roll with that,” Percy said, exhaling smoke through his nostrils.

  Portman and Jackson bound Bailey and the others with plastic cuffs and then led them back through the woods toward the street. One of the people in black hoods had cut Deckland free, who now rubbed his wrists as he strutted toward Franklin.

  “Played you like a fiddle, didn’t we?” Deckland cackled, a wry grin on his face.

 
“Dumbass over here already made that joke. So you get zero points for originality.” Franklin wasn’t about to let any of those goons see him sweat.

  “Did he now? Well, what about this one?” Deckland cracked his knuckles and then sent his fist straight into Franklin’s crotch. “That’s for wastin’ a fine bottle of scotch, you heathen.”

  He fell to the ground, the intense pain thumping through his body in waves. The deep hurt made his stomach heave, and he threw up only feet from where Tim did earlier. Deckland, Percy, and the others laughed at him. Franklin shook his head, disgusted with himself for making such a scene.

  “Really?” Bailey asked. “You had to hit him there?”

  Deckland grabbed Bailey’s face with one hand, almost covering the entire thing. “You’re lucky I don’t snap your neck, you twat.”

  Bailey stiffened, his complexion turning three shades whiter. Franklin wanted to help, but it wasn’t the time, especially since he was still cuffed. The only thing the moment seemed like an appropriate time for was prayer, maybe.

  “Leave him alone.” Percy moved in between the Irishman and his prey. “Mr. Lovell doesn’t want any of the kids hurt.”

  Deckland let go of Bailey, who fell back against a tree. The ginger’s intimidating gaze fell on Percy. “That so?”

  “Yes, it is, my freakishly large friend. You see, one of these lucky contestants is going to be our virgin sacrifice.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The Sacrificial Lamb

  Bailey looked around at his friends. He knew Alexis wasn’t a virgin. Same with Marshall. Tim always cited his stupid “ninja code” whenever the question came up, leaving Bailey as the only confirmed virgin in the group. Great. Nobody mentioned that the Awakening was about throwing a virgin into a volcano to please some god.

  Wait. Volcano? In Mooresville? Like, it could be right beneath our feet?