My Friends Are Dead People

by Tony Ortiz

  He looked a little taken aback by what Jacoby had just said. “No.”

  As Jacoby moved on to the next subject, a small parchment slipped out of Forlin’s pocket. Without giving it much thought, I read it.

  HD 2441

  HAUNT HOUSE - Room Crying Skulls

  A12 Scream Road, Psyclin A12

  Kilkenny, Ireland, Region Munster

  Dear Haunt House Staff,

  On day 2395 the wiskchickian witch tribe inhabiting southern Germany cursed and clawed a territorial treaty containing past documents of the location of each welchick witch residing in Britain and Spain from 2389 to 2393. With regard to this lost treaty and other contents that I mentioned in my last letter, I assert a suspicion that a welchick slaughter took place in 2394.

  My keen interest in this falsified wiskchickian purchase won’t be set aside. I would like this matter to be handled with extreme caution and speed as done on Boral’s Speed Road. If you have any further questions, we can set up a meeting at Psyclin Dock 22.

  Attached is the last page of the treaty. I would like it returned after a Samhain Seeker thoroughly investigates the page. Thank you for considering my suspicions of this extremely heinous crime,

  Forlin, quebellion hew, EnT2404

  Stamped over the entire proposal was a bloody pumpkin and the repeated word “denied.” Suddenly, the name ‘Forlin’ rang a bell to me. No one was speaking at the moment so I decided to speak up.

  “Forlin, a werewolf – I’m not sure what kind – was supposed to tell you about something to do with Himalaya.” I couldn’t believe I had forgotten that little detail. I never forget things.

  “His mother contacted me,” he responded. “He was a minical werewolf.”

  “What did she tell you?”

  “Himalaya might be a threat. His footprints have been found outside Antarctica.” He slightly opened up his pocket so the fluttering letter could glide back in. “The Haunt House will not investigate this because they’re preoccupied at the moment. Eventually they will look into it.”

  “But if he’s dangerous, shouldn’t this be dealt with now?”

  “That is why I’ll look into it just as soon as the samhain government is clawed.”

  Jacoby waited for us to finish, listening in with interest. But we didn’t have anything else to say.

  Jacoby turned to Franky and asked, “Henry, is that all? . . . Then that’s it for now,” he said to the group as he stood up. “We’ll talk more of this tomorrow.”

  Murlie mumbled grouchily under her breath. She must have sensed Jacoby wasn’t telling them everything. Everyone else knew it was best to wait until next Halloween. Jacoby, Dorian, Katie and I started our way back down the hill, headed in the opposite direction from everyone else. I didn’t know what to make of the meeting. I still didn’t even know who had killed Kala. Was it the tortics? Was it Jack? And what was the reason for the “battle sounds” that the local resident had heard? Who was fighting who?

  “Jacoby, where are they going?” asked Katie.

  “I told Lin and Murlie to stay at Hess’s perch in Main for the last hours of Halloween.”

  “What about Franky? He went by himself.”

  “Henry is safe with his relatives.”

  I was the last one to make it down the hill. It was hard to not break down again walking past Kala’s grave. It made me question the purpose of my own life and who I was as a human being. I couldn’t even begin to fathom how to look for the answer.

  “Who killed Kala?” I said to Jacoby, nearly walking into him.

  “Jesse . . .” He didn’t look like he wanted to tell me. “Jack did.”

  “So, Jack is real?”

  “He always was.”

  “Who was fighting him?”

  “No one. The ‘battle sounds’ that the nomis heard was the sounds of Jack killing–”

  “But the tortics were there. So, he only killed Kala? Not the tortics? Why didn’t–”

  “He did. Five were killed.”

  We all got quiet as we considered the deaths of the five tortics. But if Jack was able to kill five tortics, then it was going to be extremely difficult for Dorian to defeat him.

  “Was Lorseria one of them?” I asked.

  “No. I don’t think he was here.”

  I thought for a moment. “Why would Jack come here and kill Kala?”

  “I am not sure. There isn’t any good reason to kill a menala. However, he has killed two already.”

  My welgo saw us from the alley and came over.

  “Duma, I want you to go back to Ray’s,” said Jacoby.

  She put her head against his chest, forcing him to stop walking.

  “I understand your concern, but you can’t do much here.”

  Jacoby moved around her.

  “Are we going home?” I said.

  “Not right now.”

  “Are we going after him?”

  “No. We’re going to protect the only two menalas left.”

  I glanced at Dorian. “Who’s the other one?”

  “The other one is Meesi Kel. She has been seen around Morocco a lot lately. We’ll be starting there. She might not be aware of what’s going on, so we have to find her quickly. I’m assuming the tortics are trying to find her right now.”

  “The tortics? They want to kill the menalas, too?”

  “No, only Jack. But because they now know Jack is killing off the menalas, they’ll want to use Meesi to lure him in. This leaves us with only one option: to find her and get her to a safe place. Alright, you two, wait here. We’ll be a few minutes.”

  Jacoby and Dorian walked over to a small shop at the corner, where a chubby warlock was waiting for them. As soon as they went in, a lanky man in a sports jacket stepped out, carrying two suitcases and a woman’s purse. There was a glint of excitement in his eyes. He threw the suitcases into the back of a truck and drove away.

  “Go home, Duma,” I said to my welgo, who was pacing anxiously in-between Katie and me. “Do what Jacoby told you. He doesn’t want you here.”

  Duma fixed her eyes on me.

  “Do you have something you want to tell me?”

  Duma opened her mouth wide.

  “What is it?” I forgot that she couldn’t talk. “Is it important? Because we don’t have–”

  Duma opened her mouth.

  “What do you think she knows?” Katie asked me.

  I wondered the same thing. What could Duma have seen that I haven’t?

  “Duma, you see something?” asked Katie.

  Duma opened her mouth.

  “In Germany? . . . No.”

  “Did you see the tortics?” I asked.

  Duma opened her mouth immediately.

  “Where?”

  Duma paced anxiously between us.

  “At the beach?” said Katie.

  Duma kept her mouth closed as she gaped at Katie.

  “You left the beach?” I said, surprised.

  She opened her mouth again.

  “Where then?”

  “On the water?” tried Katie. “You saw them on the water?”

  Duma signaled yes twice.

  “You saw them heading here? So they knew Jack was planning to kill Kala.”

  Duma kept her mouth open.

  “Jesse, I don’t get why she wants to tell us this. We know this already.”

  “But now we know the tortics knew about it beforehand.”

  Duma paced again.

  “She wants us to ask more questions,” I said.

  Duma stopped and peered at me keenly.

  “Okay . . . uhmm . . . did you follow them?”

  Duma just stood there, waiting for a better question.

  “You see something else?” asked Katie urgently as she noticed Jacoby and Dorian talking to the warlock outside.

  Duma opened her mouth with a crazed look in her eyes. I knew exactly the next question to ask.

  “Jack? You saw Jack?”

  Duma opened her mo
uth as wide as she could. I never noticed how many flat teeth she had until then. There must have been at least fifty.

  “What did he look like–” I stopped short. “Was he headed over here?”

  She opened her mouth.

  “Did you see him in Germany? . . . Somewhere else?”

  She said yes.

  “Where? Uhmm . . . in Europe? Italy? No. Uhmm . . . Spain, France, Ireland–”

  She opened wide.

  “In Ireland?” said Katie.

  We both rushed over to Dorian and Jacoby and told them everything we just learned. They took the news coolly. But we all knew it was a big deal. Duma had seen Jack. She was the only living halloween to have ever seem him.

  Jacoby shook the warlock’s hand. “Thank you, Hal. Send me some tomorrow.”

  “Sure thing, Jacoby,” said Hal. His belly was big and round; his cheeks were pudgy and rosy. He vaguely resembled a walrus.

  “I’m just glad to get rid of some of these cans. Everyone thinks there’s something’s crawling inside them. You ever hear about minalips in cans? I have no idea how anyone could think they could get inside. They’re too big.”

  “We have to go, Kevin – Hal,” corrected Jacoby.

  “Yeah, sorry about the sudden name change. Well, you heard my brother, Tim – I mean Hallen – say he thought I should change my name. I guess it is better to not keep your human name.”

  Katie stared straight at the man.

  “Hello, there,” said Hal.

  “You’re supposed to have a purpose?” she asked strangely.

  “Katie, we have to go,” announced Jacoby.

  That didn’t stop Hal. “Oh, are you talking about the door?”

  He closed the door so all of us could see it. There was a board nailed to it.

  THE SHOP OF

  HAL’S TCL CAN

  Do I have a purpose?

  “I don’t know why my brother carved that. I know it means something. He’s a smart educated fella. He wouldn’t write something like that at random. Do I have a purpose? What do you think?”

  “No,” said Katie.

  “How about you?” Hal asked me.

  “Maybe,” I said.

  “Well, I think I have a purpose. I wish I could have asked him before he left what the ‘TCL’ stands for. All I can come up with is Tim Candy Lane. After all this time I’ve been asking him to make me a sign with my shop’s name, he puts in the wrong name. He’s a weird one, my brother. And a bully, even to this day, when I can overpower him as a warlock. He just got married to a pretty redhead. Another thing I don’t get is, he said he wants me to call her Hale now, not Jane. And she’s not a samhain.”

  Hal chuckled.

  “There’s a strange bunch of beans for you. So where are you all from?”

  “San Diego.”

  “I love that city. Hallen has a home there.”

  “So, you really don’t know why he wrote that?” I asked.

  “When he comes back, I’ll ask him. All I know is my name is now Hal, his is Hallen, and his wife’s is Hale. Crazy thing is–”

  “Hal, I wish we could stay and chat,” Jacoby interrupted, “but we really need to get going.”

  “Okay, just come back and visit me. . . .”

  Hal kept talking to us until we were out of his sight. I was definitely going to go back next year. There was something mysterious going on there.

  “Thanks, Duma,” said Jacoby on the deserted street. “Get to Ray’s. You told us everything we needed to know.”

  Duma strode up a toppled building and disappeared into a cloud of dust.

  “Jesse, eyes,” said Jacoby. This time he didn’t grab my hand.

  The psyclin was more mentally strenuous without hand contact, causing a mild headache and a sensation of soreness throughout my body. We had traveled to a barren patch in the woods.

  “Where are we?” I asked, squinting at the splintered sunlight filtering through the dusty woods.

  “The Amatola Mountains in South Africa,” said Jacoby.

  “Is it morning?”

  He didn’t respond. I looked down at Katie’s watch.

  10:30 PM

  One hour and thirty minutes. That was enough time for us to find Meesi and take her and Dorian to a safe place. However, how long could they keep her at this place? I was just glad Dorian and Jacoby were special halloweens who lived more than one day a year. This meant that I could hang out with them tomorrow.

  Dorian stared down into a pile of broken branches at a colorful parrot scuttling in the dirt. He placed his hand on the bird, and it flipped upright and flew off.

  “It is an yslas curse,” informed Dorian.

  “Apparently everyone has decided to come out this Halloween,” remarked Jacoby.

  “What’s an ‘ee-las’?” I fumbled with the name.

  “An ‘ees – lásk’ is a halloween who dwells in the southern hemisphere, mainly Antarctica. Very powerful and proud. However, their arrogant nature is not of importance at the moment–” Jacoby left us and strode deep into the woods. Dorian had gone, too.

  “Where are they going?” I said.

  “Maybe they heard something?” suggested Katie.

  Then loud crackling was heard all around us. Hundreds of tall white shapes were moving through the tall pine trees. Moments later, the desolate clearing was filled with unfamiliar creatures until Katie and I could barely move.

  They were pure white and wore white fur coats. Their heads were big and round, shaped like tires. One of the taller ones poked Katie in the head with a large finger, and she swatted it away like it was a fly. He did it again, and she hit him harder. The third time Dorian psyclined between them.

  “You okay?” he asked her, his head bowed.

  Katie nodded. Dorian turned to the yslas, whose head was two or three feet above his own.

  “We don’t mean to disturb you–”

  “Look at me when you speak,” said the white samhain. When he talked, cold breaths of blue air drifted out of his mouth.

  Another yslas spoke. “Cosqué, it’s a menala.”

  “Are you the one with the deadly curse?” inquired Cosqué.

  Dorian kept his head lowered without responding.

  “He would look at you, Cosqué, if he wasn’t that menala.”

  An anxious stir rolled over the yslas clan. Jacoby was moving through.

  “Jacoby, who is this?” asked Cosqué the second he arrived.

  “This is Dorian,” he said and turned to Katie and me. “Tell them you’re not here to start any trouble.”

  Cosqué looked down at Katie, who scowled back at him.

  “My name is Cosqué,” he told her. “And yours?”

  “I’m not telling you my name!” she protested bitterly. “If you touch me again, I’m going punch you!”

  “Cosqué, this is Katie,” introduced Jacoby. He turned to me with a sigh.

  “Don’t befriend them,” I told Jacoby. “He was bothering Katie. He probably wants to pull out her brain and look at it.”

  “And this is Jesse,” he added sourly.

  Was Jacoby ashamed of us?

  “We’re searching for Jack,” said Cosqué. “A human friend of mine has informed me that Jack has killed his samhain son, Kala. We thought we’d see Forlin about what happened. Do you know why Jack showed himself?”

  “He’s going after the menalas,” answered Jacoby.

  “Do you know where they are?”

  “One is standing before you. And the other one is in Morocco.”

  Dorian sat down, causing a few yslas to murmur and step a foot away from him.

  “We are tired of all these deaths, both human and samhain,” said Cosqué. “We plan to find Jack and kill him.”

  “You may want to join us. We are also headed to Morocco.” Jacoby scanned the hundreds of yslas standing inside the barren. “Cosqué, many deaths are to come in this last hour. You may want to stay out of–”

  “We are not worried.�
��

  Whispers broke out as Dorian got up to his feet. One yslas shrieked and shot a beam of light at him.

  “What’s wrong with you?” roared Katie. “He’s not going to harm you! Crapper! Jack’s the one you should be scared of! He’ll wipe out all of you! You’re fighting someone who isn’t allowed to die! Think about it!”

  Just as instantly as they arrived, the yslas were gone in one mass psyclin.

  “We needed them,” Dorian said to Jacoby.

  Jacoby grabbed Katie’s hand, and Dorian grabbed mine. All of us looked at Katie’s watch.

  10:53 PM

  I opened my eyes to see flames everywhere.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  MEETING MEESI

  Human villagers were walking in and out of their huts, driving long bamboo torches into the ground and setting jack-o’-lanterns out on the dirt road. Most of them wore dark hooded garments. As we walked down the road, they would glance over at us, but without a trace of worry, and go right back to their business.

  “We’ll have to speak to one,” said Jacoby.

  “But we don’t speak Arabic,” I said. “Do you?”

  “A little. Luckily, most of them are bilingual.”

  I spotted a short, black-haired woman cradling her toddler in front of her boxy home.

  “How about them?”

  “They will do,” approved Jacoby.

  As we made our way across her vegetable garden, the woman stood up. She looked to be in her early thirties, dressed in a drab-colored cloth wound tightly around her waist and draped gracefully over her front, not the traditional clothing worn by a Moroccan female. She wore a giant-beaded necklace, beaded earrings, and a coin-adorned kerchief over her head. Her feet fit snugly into yellow slippers called babouches. Oz made me study Morocco for a month so I knew a lot about the people.

  “Greetings,” said the woman with a hospitable smile. “Those are some amazing costumes you’ve got there. It looks like you all had a hard day. I had quite a day myself. Oh, I’m sorry, I’m Nail and this is my son, Nick.”