Fright Squad

by Flint Maxwell

  “Way to go, Slayer,” I said, patting his head. He seemed to be fond of that, though it did make me feel as if he was a household pet and I was his owner.

  Maddie leaned over and high-fived him.

  Zack gave him a fist-bump.

  The goblin, now all hopped up on adrenaline and good cheer, threw his middle fingers up in the air, and made a noise that sounded like “Wooooo!”

  For the moment, everything was all right, but we had Helltown in our future and the fates of people we cared about pressing down on our shoulders. As I remembered this, the momentary smile died on my face.

  20

  The Lonely Church

  BEAST hadn’t kept as close an eye on Helltown as they probably should’ve since most of the legends had been debunked and the era of the true messed-up things going on there was well in the past.

  I was a little unnerved that Octavius had sent us here, especially since he was doped up and all.

  But I knew him and the legends and despite the fact that they were legends and part of the past, I still found myself a little afraid to enter the place.

  All we had to do was go to the church. Which church? The one with a lit candle in its window. Yeah, that narrowed it down.

  We got on the highway, heading north on Route 8. Hardly any cars passed, and the darkness seemed to be weighing heavily on us. Each street light we went by flickered and went out, like we were bringing bad omens along with the bag full of weapons.

  Speaking of bags, once we inventoried the contents of it, every weapon resting either on the floor or the seat next to me, I picked up the bag to gather them back up—would hate to get pulled over with stuff like that out in the open. As I lifted it I noticed it still felt heavy as if something was in there, something we missed.

  I reached in and my hand gripped a small orb. On the surface, it was cold, but the longer I held it the more the growing heat and destruction within passed to my palm.

  “Holy crap,” I said.

  “What?” Maddie said, looking back at me.

  I held up the orb.

  “No way.” Maddie’s face flushed and her eyes shone with a dangerous excitement, the look of a first time flier. “How?”

  Slayer was too busy looking out the window oohing and ahhing. Besides I don’t think he could’ve given us a meaningful answer.

  “What is it? Toss it up here!” Zack said.

  “Probably shouldn’t toss it,” I said, holding it out so Zack could see.

  The car swerved off the highway and onto the ruts embedded in the road. My heart plummeted with a jolt of fear. I almost dropped the explosive.

  It was one of Storm’s bomb-balls, a modified grenade of concentrated, destructive energy.

  Once Zack righted the car, he began having a minor panic attack. If you knew Zack, you knew this wasn’t that big of a deal. He suffered from minor panic attacks whenever the local McDonald’s milkshake machine broke down.

  “That little punk threw the bag at me! What if that thing would’ve gone off?” Zack said.

  “Then we wouldn’t be here,” I said.

  At the sound of little punk, Slayer brought his attention to Zack’s squabbling.

  Maddie tried breathing in slow deliberate breaths to calm Zack down, which Slayer now emulated.

  “I’d be dead!” Zack said. “Dead!”

  The SUV had slowed considerably.

  “But you’re not,” Maddie said. “And neither are we.”

  “Exactly. Things happen for a reason. But you didn’t die, and you didn’t die for a reason,” I said.

  That seemed to help Zack slightly. He sped up.

  Later, we found out that when Slayer had infiltrated the headquarters, the SOD agents had opened all of Storm’s weapon caches, including the special ones, where the bombs were kept. Slayer only grabbed one because that was all his little hand could carry.

  As we got off of Route 8 onto the long and winding Boston Mills Road, Zack slowed the SUV.

  Dark trees stood around us, their tall, jagged branches pointing at us accusatorially: Hey, look at the criminals! That’s them!

  I remembered one of the urban legends surrounding the trees of Helltown. It was said they often moved. You’d see an oak towering over a collection of headstones in Boston Cemetery, turn your back on it, and then it’d be gone or slightly closer than before.

  I shivered, knowing none of this was true.

  Then again, I’d spent the better part of my youth believing monsters weren’t real, either…

  Zack did something that surprised all of us. He took his sunglasses off.

  We stared at him, our mouths open. Slayer put his tiny hands over his eyes and then took them away.

  “What?” Zack said. “I can’t see. I think I should be able to see, you know?”

  “Why didn’t you do that before you shot me in the butt with a stake?” I asked quietly.

  Zack didn’t answer.

  Passing into the town limits was like stepping from sunshine into a total darkness. You could smell the evil of this place, taste it on your tongue.

  “I thought the towns weren’t totally deserted,” Zack said.

  It certainly seemed deserted.

  He had stopped at a blinking traffic light.

  “Parts of it aren’t,” Maddie answered.

  Slayer looked out of the window but not for long. Whatever he saw out there in the darkness, he didn’t want to look at any longer and I didn’t blame him.

  “Well, I don’t like that there’s no one here,” Zack said.

  If we kept traveling up the road, through the blinking traffic light, we’d see a few businesses geared toward the hikers of Cuyahoga Valley National Park, and then a little more to the northwest, we’d come upon Boston Mills Ski Resort, which wouldn’t have been open for the season yet. The first heavy snowfall was still at least two months a way…or so we hoped. Who could really predict Ohio weather?

  I kept my eyes peeled for a church, for a candle. Saw nothing for a long while.

  “It’s late,” Maddie said. “People are probably sleeping.”

  Then something blinked in the distance. I leaned forward. It was a light, a flickering light, as if maybe someone had lit a candle, and I could see it through the bared branches of the trees around the property.

  “Up there!” I said, pointing to the large building. “That’s the place!” It stood on the corner, between a fork in the road.

  “That creepy place right there?” Zack said.

  The SUV’s engine idled.

  “Yes,” I said. “It’s a church. See the steeple?”

  “That creepy church up there?” Zack said.

  “Yeah.” I sighed. “That church. You see the light in the upper window?”

  “I do,” Zack answered. Maddie was leaning forward, trying to get a better look. I guess from her vantage point, the trees blocked it. “But that doesn’t mean I want to go knock on the front door.”

  “Zack, it’s just a church. What’s the worst that could happen?” I said, but even as I said it, I remembered other legends about this place, churches decorated with upside down crosses where the satanists practiced their black magic and sacrificed animals and humans alike, where a man could always be found in the basement, guarding their dark secrets, a man whose face you could never fully comprehend no matter how hard you looked at it.

  “Just go on,” I said. “You don’t have to go up to the church. You can stay in the car. Maddie, Slayer, and I will go.”

  “And what, leave me here by myself? Hell no,” Zack said, shaking his head. “I’ve seen way too many horror movies to know that never ends well. You need me to beat some bad guys up, I’m game. But knocking on a spooky church’s door in Helltown, I’m not so sure about.”

  I could respect that.

  “I’m coming, just not doing the knocking,” Zack said.

  And then we were driving up the dark road, toward that flickering light.

  Slayer came with us to the
front door. I thought, of all people, a caretaker of a church would understand a man with deformities. Because that’s what we had decided to pass Slayer’s small stature and odd looking face off as. He was definitely, most certainly not a goblin.

  The church was two stories tall, built almost like a house. Except for the steeple atop its sloping roof and the large bell gleaming with moonlight beneath said steeple, one might mistake this for a house.

  The walls were clean white brick. Three windows sat below the peaked roof and above the double-wide front doors.

  Front doors I did not want to approach. From a young age, I’d always felt that the moment I stepped through a church’s threshold would be the moment my skin would catch fire. Seeing this creepy church in the middle of a town rumored to be full of ghosts and evil made me think I was liable to spontaneously combust.

  We had seen the candlelight in the back window. Now, on the front, the SUV parked in the narrow driveway that led to the parking lot behind the church, we saw no other lights.

  “Well, who wants to do the honors?” I said after a moment, already knowing it would be me.

  My eyes kept flicking up to the windows above us. I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone—or something—was watching us.

  Zack and Maddie exchanged a look, the whites of their eyes bright.

  Zack chuckled uncomfortably. “What do you mean who wants to do the honors? This was your idea. I already said I wasn’t knocking.”

  “Zack’s right,” Maddie said, “your idea, your responsibility to disturb whoever’s inside. Sorry, Abe.”

  I took a deep breath and stepped forward, one hand poised to knock, the other poised to draw the pistol currently tucked into my waistband. I was already going to hell, what was one more thing like bringing a firearm onto church property on top of all the other stuff, right?

  Already I felt that burning. Was it my damnation? Or was hell actually behind those doors?

  I almost didn’t want to find out, but knew I had to for Lola and Storm.

  And for revenge.

  What felt like a long time later, the door creaked open. I heard no one walk up, heard no grumbling from a man angry for being disturbed out of sleep.

  Then, from the threshold, I stared at a ghost.

  Yes, an actual ghost, which shouldn’t have been surprising but was.

  “Abraham,” he said. “I’m glad to see you.”

  21

  Mr. Jones

  Spoiler alert: He really was a ghost.

  I could tell by three observations: first, the man’s feet didn’t touch the floor (he was floating); second, I could see the wall behind him since he was transparent as ghosts usually were; and third he introduced himself as—

  “Mr. Jones, the last good ghost of Helltown.”

  He reached out then quickly withdrew his hand. “Oh, whoops.”

  Obviously, our hands would not shake in a normal way, but it was too late. My hand came up and went through his. A feeling, like jumping into an icy lake in the middle of an Ohio winter, rippled through me. Quickly, I recoiled.

  “Oh, yes,” Mr. Jones said. “That is a reaction I’ve seen many times before. My apologies.”

  He wore a suit you’d see on the corpse of a man who’d died in the 1800s, rough tweed, black pants, a suit coat that looked as warm as any sweater I’d ever seen, and all complete with a top hat that would make walking through any door a tough task—had he not been able to pass through solid objects, that was.

  “How do you know my name?” I asked.

  This wasn’t the first time I’d seen a ghost. Working in BEAST, you’re prepared for that kind of stuff. You’re not prepared, however, for ghosts that aren’t wreaking havoc or trying to bring you to the other side. Better yet, you’re not prepared for a ghost that knows your name and seemingly has been expecting your company and that acknowledges the fact that they are a ghost.

  “Not important,” Mr. Jones said. “What is important, my friend, is that you and your comrades ask me what you came to ask me.”

  “What’s that?” Zack asked from the outside. “Wait, was that the question? Shit, was that? Damn it. I’ve gotta stop asking questions.”

  “How should I know?” Mr. Jones answered. “Do I look like an all-knowing entity?”

  That wasn’t helpful. Go figure.

  “Do come inside,” Mr. Jones said. “Stay awhile.”

  “So you can kill us and cover us in your ectoplasm?” Zack said.

  Mr. Jones smiled. “So humorous is he. Of course not. We shall discuss your next move.”

  I turned, which probably wasn’t the best idea because you never turn your back on a ghost, and waved Zack, Maddie, and Slayer toward the door. They came. Apprehensively.

  “The more the merrier!” Mr. Jones said.

  They stepped inside. I came in last and the doors closed shut behind me with a heavy thud, just like you’d expect to happen in some horror movie.

  “I’m afraid I am low on snacks and drinks,” Mr. Jones said, floating toward a door off of the main lobby. Upside down crosses graced the walls, but they weren’t overtly satanic. I think they were just a part of the architecture. It was funny how legends could spread like uncontrollable wildfires.

  I stopped and looked up at a statue of Jesus on the cross just above the entrance to the main part of the church. Some smart guy had drawn a smile on his face with spray paint. It was faded as if someone had tried their best to scrub it, but it would never completely come off.

  Suddenly, Mr. Jones blinked into existence on my right.

  “Ah, yes,” he said. “Hoodlums had snuck in during my last depression.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Mr. Jones looked somber. “It is my job to guard this place of God from vandals and derelicts. I am usually quite good at it, too. However, I had just gone through a rough breakup with Patty down at the train station—”

  Zack interrupted. “Wait a second. I’ve never heard of any ghosts having girlfriends.”

  “Me, either,” Maddie said. Slayer made a weird grumbling sound that might’ve been his way of saying him, too.

  “Oh, yes,” Mr. Jones said. “It gets quite lonely on the other side. We’re not savages. Well…some of us are, but I do not associate myself with cheap haunters and thrillers. There’s no honor in spooking the naive without a purpose.”

  “What happened?” Zack asked. “To Patty?”

  “Ah, that is a long story. I shall sum it up in just a few words: She moved on.”

  “Moved on?” Zack asked. “With another guy—er, ghost?”

  “No, no,” Mr. Jones said. “She moved on from this earth. To the Beyond.”

  “Why didn’t you go with her?” Maddie asked.

  “I have a duty. Ah, even when you’re dead, work can get in the way of relationships. Some things never change, my young friends.”

  “So you just guard this place?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Mr. Jones answered. “Guard it and scare those who try to enter without a proper invitation.”

  “And we have a proper invitation?” I asked. With this ghost I could tell there was no rushing about him. He wanted to take his sweet time, most likely because he was lonely. The problem was that we didn’t have much of that sweet time, if we had any time at all.

  “Yes, Mr. Abraham. You did.”

  “From who?” I asked.

  “Your father,” Mr. Jones said.

  Maddie and Zack were looking at me with caution. Slayer was chasing a small rodent near the corner of the lobby.

  I tried remaining calm.

  “My father?” I asked breathlessly.

  “Yes. I met Mr. Crowley many years ago. He had come through seeking the same answers I think you four are seeking. A very nice and honorable man. I sent him and his partner to Huntington in search of that bad magician who uses our town’s powers— Oops. I feel I’ve said too much.”

  “He never came back,” I said, not noticing Mr. Jones’s embarr
assment. “My dad died.”

  Mr. Jones frowned. “I’m quite sorry to hear that. I tried to warn him.”

  “Warn him?” I asked.

  Mr. Jones’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why, yes,” he said. “Just as I shall warn you.”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the warning.

  “Listen, Mr. Jones, I’m sorry Patty left you and you’re stuck here guarding this place. I can’t imagine the pay is anything to write home about. But we have to find the Wraith.”

  “Yeah, he took a couple of our coworkers and I really don’t feel like pulling double-shifts for the rest of my life,” Zack said.

  “I am also sorry to hear that,” Mr. Jones said. He floated, radiant, as his spiritual form bounced through the lobby of the lonely church, then he went through the wall, disappearing from sight.

  Maddie said, “I think you might’ve offended him.”

  “Well, I guess we’re back where we started,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  “You shoulda never said anything about his pay,” Zack added. “Rule number one!”

  “Don’t be dumb.” Maddie was looking at Zack like he was, in fact, dumb. “What point would there be for a ghost to have money?”

  Zack shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe he likes movies or something.”

  Mr. Jones appeared out of the wall again, causing me to jump, and Zack to lose his balance and stumble. Luckily, Maddie had been nearby and caught him before he cracked his head on the floor.

  “Whoa,” Zack said, “don’t do that!”

  Even Slayer had been frightened, momentarily distracted from the rodent he looked for.

  “I am sorry,” Mr. Jones said. “But must I ask permission before I use the bathroom?”

  “Bathroom?” Zack repeated. “Ghosts don’t use the bathroom.”