I started to sob. I thought that just by asking the question, Ma had decided to commit me right there in our motel room, and that I would have to stay like that until I figured out what was wrong with me. At my first sniffle Ma immediately untied the sleeves, yanked off the sweater, and gathered me up in her arms.
“Oh, sweetheart. Sweetie. My Phoebe.” She rocked me back and forth. I couldn’t stop sobbing. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I was just playing.” When my crying finally calmed, she cradled my face and wiped the tears away with her thumbs. “That’ll never happen to you, do you hear me? Never.”
Turns out Ma was wrong.
I sat in the back of Officer Shelley’s police car, my aching arms bound around my chest.
Officer Graham, Beth’s brother, sat in the passenger seat. “Gosh, Shelley,” he said through his hazardous materials suit. “To think we had an honest-to-goodness threat in our station and we let her go. Think of the damage she could have caused.”
They’d been waiting for me in the parking lot when Dr. Siley and Principal Toll led me outside with special gloves. I kept asking them what was happening, but they wouldn’t answer. They just stuffed me in the straitjacket and then stuck me in the back of the squad car. A part of me wanted to know what that machine, that Geiger counter, had told them, but another part wanted to ignore it altogether, like a zit or a scale that tells you you’ve put on a couple pounds. Whatever it was, they were going to lock me up for it.
I wanted to kick out the car’s back window and sprint down the road, run into the desert until I reached the Buried Lab. But that was exactly the sort of thing that got you committed. According to Ma, I was supposed to sit here and act like everything was hunky-dory, even though my arms were tied underneath my armpits and they hadn’t even told me what I’d done wrong. I was supposed to smile and play by the rules until the officers and the doctors decided I was a functional member of society and then released me from the loony bin.
But I had a sinking feeling they were taking me somewhere much worse. My heart was pounding so hard, I could feel it thumping through the straitjacket. I tried to think sunny thoughts as I rested my cheek against the police car’s window.
I thought I couldn’t get more terrified. That was before I looked at the sky.
The clouds had cleared. Daddy was staring straight at Pennybrooke. His mouth hung open, a dumb expression on his face. Again, I had to remind myself that he wasn’t warning me to get away. He was waiting for something. A Shiver was on its way. Right then.
I jerked away from the window.
Officer Shelley adjusted the rearview mirror so I could see his eyes through the clear faceplate of his plastic suit. “Uncomfortable?”
I wanted to scream at him to take off the straitjacket. I wanted to tell him that it was a matter of life or death and that I had to catch the next taxi out of town or else there would be dire consequences.
But I realized that’s what every crazy person said. They all had an emergency that was right outside of the hospital, which they had to attend to immediately. The only thing the officers wanted to hear from me, the only thing that could possibly get me released, was sweetness and light. But I didn’t have an ounce of either inside me.
I tried to relax. “It’s nothing.”
“Didn’t sound like nothing,” Officer Shelley said.
My brain was all fuzz and static—an ill-tuned television set. Ma had specific instructions for escaping a Shiver: Leave immediately. Don’t say goodbye to anyone. Don’t grab your record collection or anything special to you. Just take whatever’s needed to get out of there and then go. You never knew what horrifying thing was going to come busting up out of the concrete or swooping down from the sky.
I wiggled a little, trying not to be conspicuous, hoping to loosen the bound sleeves. But they clung tight.
“Is that jacket strangling you, Phoebe?” Officer Graham asked.
“Yes,” I said, hoping for a chance to escape. “Yes, it is.”
“She’s fine,” Officer Shelley said.
So much for that plan. Somehow I had to get back to the motel and grab Ma’s money. I had to use the ham radio to warn Liz that Daddy was staring straight at . . .
But that’s when it hit me. They knew. The Buried Lab knew a Shiver was on the way. Heck, they might have even released one of their creations from that haunted hallway. I didn’t have time to be all sweetness and light. I had to escape.
“I gotta see Ma,” I said.
“No chance,” Shelley said.
“She’ll be worried sick,” I said.
Shelley shook his head.
“Gee, Shell,” Officer Graham said. “Don’t you suppose we ought to go to the motel and tell Miss Lane we got her daughter in custody?”
My muscles eased. There was that heart of gold Beth was talking about.
“Miss Lane ain’t at the motel,” Shelley said.
“Well, where is she?”
“Beats me. But she ain’t there.”
Officer Graham rounded to get a look at me, his suit crinkling. I gave him the sincerest eyes I could.
“Well, maybe she wasn’t there for you,” he said. “But maybe she’d be there for me? What do ya think?”
Officer Shelley gave him a cold look. “Just to prove you wrong,” he said, and flipped a U-turn.
• • •
A sports car was parked in the motel parking lot. It had flames on the hood and fins on the tail and fuzzy dice dangling from the rearview. Leaning against the side was Hal, heel propped on the tire, matchstick in his mouth, just soaking in the sunshine. Relief might have rushed through me if I understood what was happening.
Officer Shelley pulled into a space and got out of the car. He passed Hal in the parking lot and was about to head upstairs when Hal drawled in his Texan accent, “I’m gonna have to ask you to turn around and let that girl go.”
Shelley gave him a look. “Oh, yeah? And why’s that?”
Hal flipped the matchstick from one side of his mouth to the other. “You’re not going to give her what she needs.”
Shelley put his hands on his hips. “What does she need?”
Hal removed the matchstick and flicked it. “If I told you, you might be tempted to lock her up and keep her, and I just can’t let you do that.”
Inside the car, Officer Graham and I stared at the scene. In the background, Ethel beat the dust off an Oriental rug. Whack whack whack whack whack.
Shelley gestured to Officer Graham, and after fumbling with his seat belt a moment, Graham awkwardly climbed out of the car.
“This girl is in our custody,” Shelley told Hal. “We’re taking her in to—”
“Stop talking.” Hal said it so forcefully it knocked the words right out of Shelley’s mouth.
Shelley snorted and gave Officer Graham a look of disbelief. Hal was half Shelley’s size.
Hal adjusted his sunglasses and spoke in an even voice. “Have you ever been spanked, Officer?”
“Wh—” Shelley began, but it turned out Hal wasn’t done.
“I’m guessing it’s been a while. I’m guessing you’ve cracked plenty of skulls during your time on the force, put a lot of people in cuffs, but that you’re overdue for a whooping yourself.” He lowered his sunglasses and gave a little grin. “I can tell. So I’m going to make a little deal with you.” He started to unbuckle his leather belt. “If you say another word, I’ll bend you over the trunk of my car, yank that plastic getup down around your ankles, and give you a hiding you’ll never forget.”
Shelley stood frozen. It was clear no one had ever spoken to him like that.
“Smart,” Hal said. He ambled over to the police car and opened the back door. “Hello, Phoebe,” he said, then started giggling like a schoolboy who’d just lit a firecracker in the girls’ bathroom. “Boy, I hate cops. Hate ’em! They act like everything is a danger so they can swoop in and be the heroes. Lean forward for me.”
I did, and he started to loosen
the straitjacket.
“How’s Lucky-13?”
“Um, she’s fine?”
“Getting her plenty of water and sunlight?”
Water and sunlight? That’s when I realized I hadn’t seen the Pomeranian eat once. Or tinkle.
“It’s okay,” Hal said, undoing the first strap. “She’s not your average dog.”
I wanted to ask him what he meant, but there were more pressing issues.
“Daddy’s looking at Pennybrooke,” I said.
Hal glanced vaguely up at the sky and then started to loosen the next strap. “Don’t I know it. Why do you think I’m—”
“Put your hands in the air and step away from the vehicle!”
Officer Shelley had stripped his plastic suit to his waist and had his gun pointed at Hal.
Hal rolled his eyes. He grabbed his belt and slid it out of his pants. “What did I just tell y—”
There was a pop. Glass shattered and warm liquid spattered across my face. Hal’s hand leapt to his neck as he stumbled backward. I was so shocked I couldn’t even scream, but Ethel was screaming enough for the both of us.
Hal bent over double, still holding the gash in his neck, then threw his head back and laughed. “Hoo, boy!” he said, and then winced. “Now, you see, this probably hurts your brain more than it hurts me.”
I looked down at the liquid that had sprayed across my straitjacket. It wasn’t blood but a clear goo. Almost like Hal was . . .
“W-w-what are you?” Officer Graham asked, his quaking voice muffled by his suit.
“Just a breeze through the desert, friend,” Hal said and cracked his neck.
“Doesn’t mean I want you to shoot me again though,” Hal said, and then ran at Shelley.
Shelley was able to shoot Hal twice more in the chest before he was tackled.
Officer Graham tremblingly pulled down his suit and got his gun untangled from his holster. He pointed it at Hal. “F-freeze!”
“Don’t shoot, you idiot!” Shelley said, wrestling on the ground, covered in goo from Hal’s neck. “You’ll hit me!”
He socked Hal in the chin and again in the chest, making a wet vegetable sound.
“Run, Phoebe!” Hal called to me. “Get out of here!” Pinning Shelley’s arm with one hand, he reached in his pocket and then thrust his keys toward the trunk of his sports car. “Git!”
I jumped out of the police car and started backing across the parking lot. Even with Shelley wrestling him and Graham tugging on his boot, Hal managed to get his key into the trunk and pop it open. I glimpsed the tops of three leathery pods, just like the ones back at the Buried Lab, before I hightailed it down the road, still bound in my straitjacket.
• • •
I ran without direction. I wished I knew where Beth lived. I’d get her to take off this straitjacket and then ask if her aunt Gladys could give me a ride out of town in her station wagon before the Shiver arrived. Beth could even come with me if she wanted. Ma wasn’t around to say no.
I heard the ringing of the church bell, and hoped Beth had shown up early to Girl Scouts. I ran along the sprinkler-damp sidewalk, keeping an eye out for monstrous shadows, until I reached the bright white walls of St. Maria’s. Neither the station wagon nor Beth were there.
I had to remind myself that this was how it always worked with a Shiver. Beth would be part of Daddy’s entertainment while I, by some stupid luck, would not. For the first time in a long time, this unsettled me. And not only because I had no way out of this straitjacket.
I slipped behind the hedges growing along the side of the church. Hal had undone the top strap and loosened the second. If I could just . . . I wiggled and twisted and flexed my arms outward until I heard a metallic plink followed by another. The broken buckles fell around my boots. Whoever made these must have used cheap metal.
Unless . . . I dismissed the thought.
I slipped off the straitjacket, stepped out of the bushes, and then hesitated. I couldn’t call a cab. I’d left all the money back at the motel. All I needed was a ride from some charitable soul. Once me and Ma were reunited, we could build a new life with nothing but the clothes on our backs. We’d done it before.
I pounded on the church door, and a few moments later, it cracked open, revealing the small waxen man with the polished glasses.
“Yes?” Reverend Marsh said.
“You really think Ma’s gonna destroy this town?” I said.
“I do.”
“Then here’s your chance to get rid of me and her wantonness for good.”
“Does this seat go back any farther?” I asked Marsh, trying to stretch out my legs in the passenger seat of his Lincoln.
“It does not,” Marsh said, keeping his eyes on the road and clinging to the steering wheel with his waxen fingers as if for dear life. “It is a bench.”
My skin felt tight on my bones. My limbs wouldn’t stop fidgeting. Was I stupid for having the reverend drive me back into the desert, even though it was the only place I could think to go? Were Marsh and I going to be met by some creatures crawling down the highway on their way to Pennybrooke?
And then I realized that was what the dirt tunnel in the haunted hallway was for. Releasing lab-grown Shivers.
Either way I had to go back. I’d make Liz tell me why they’d brought me to Pennybrooke when they were planning an attack. I’d demand to know what other creatures besides the pod people they were planning to release on innocent people. I’d make them tell me where Ma was on her special mission.
I pressed my feet into the ground to stretch out my hips, making my body arch back over the seat. Marsh squirmed, clicked on the radio, and tuned it to a Bible station. A man shouted about forgiveness and how God would save non-sinners when things were at their darkest. I waited for him to be interrupted by an emergency broadcast about the catastrophe that had just hit a town called Pennybrooke. But the preacher kept on preaching.
I rolled down the window and stuck my legs out.
“Please do not do that,” Marsh said.
The air rushed around my ankles, feeling just like heaven.
“Would you rather I put them in your lap instead?” I asked.
He was silent the rest of the drive.
• • •
When we passed the army base and the Gray Rock reservation, I pulled in my legs and pointed to the opposite side of the road.
“Pull off here,” I said.
Marsh’s eyes widened like I was asking him to drive off a cliff, but he didn’t complain. The Lincoln bumped along a desert path that might have been a road at some point but was now overgrown with jagged desert brush.
“There,” I said, pointing to the rocky outcropping.
Marsh parked the Lincoln, and I walked a circle around the rocks. There was no door. I made another circle, slower this time, running my fingers along the rock, looking for any openings or fake surfaces. Nothing. The door was gone. It was as if the entrance had never existed.
“It was here,” I said to myself. “I swear it was.”
Marsh stepped out of his car and wrung his hands. “I must return to the church. The stained glass must be cleaned for Sunday’s service, and I am all out of Windex.”
I turned in a circle, searching the desert. Did I have the wrong rocks? Had the lab moved somehow? Had I dreamed it all? I glanced into the sky, and my heart had a shock, as if it had been struck by lightning.
“Is there somewhere else I can take you?” Marsh called over the desert wind. “A gas station? A home for women perhaps?”
My jaw hung open as I stared into the sky, trying to understand what I was seeing.
Daddy hadn’t been looking at Pennybrooke.
Daddy was staring straight down . . . at me.
For the first time in my life, my father was looking at me. The corner of his mouth was ticking up into a smirk. He was lowering his remote control.
“I am becoming very dirty out here,” Marsh said.
I stood in shock as the
reverend beat at his suit, sending up plumes of dust.
• • •
Daddy’s eyes followed the reverend’s Lincoln along the highway like a lighthouse beaming on a lone ship in the night.
I was the Shiver.
That’s what the Geiger counter had told the psychiatrist.
That’s how I had busted out of the straitjacket.
My tongue ran along the tips of my teeth. Were they getting sharper? My fingertips ran along my arms. Was I sprouting more hair? I even checked the sides of my neck. Were those goose bumps or gills? Everything felt like plain old Phoebe.
But then I noticed the hem of my loose sheath dress, which had inched several inches up my legs since yesterday.
Oh.
“Has your . . . mother abandoned you?” Marsh asked.
“No,” I said, tugging my dress down as far as it would go. “She would never.”
“You are . . . fortunate not to bear the same curses she does.”
He was talking about my looks, of course. And for the first time in my life, I thought maybe I agreed with him.
• • •
When we exited the highway, I pushed up and over the seat, awkwardly sliding over the top and into the back, my dress catching up to my rear while Marsh averted his eyes.
“What are you doing?” he asked, alarmed.
“It’s my time of the month,” I said. “I need some room.”
That stopped his questions.
It felt better in the back with all that space to stretch out, but I also needed to hide. We were pulling back into Pennybrooke, and I couldn’t let Officers Shelley or Graham see me. It wasn’t smart coming back to town, but what else could I do? Have Marsh leave me in the desert and hope a door magically appeared in the rocks? If the coast was clear at the motel, I’d grab the cash out of the suitcase and then hire a cab to another town. I’d figure out how to find Ma from there.
We were halfway down Main Street when Marsh pulled the car over.
“Why are we stopping?” I asked, keeping low in the backseat.
Marsh rolled down the window and said, “Excuse me. Officer. I just wanted to let you know I have a young girl in my backseat. There’s no funny business happening. I’m just giving her a ride back to her motel.”
Attack of the 50 Foot Wallflower Page 9