by J. D. Douwes
“A right saint.” June shakes her white wig-covered head and holds her phone up in different directions as if trying to catch a rogue beam of internet. She’s got a crap phone provider.
“Cleaning leaves out of gutters does not make up for all the times he’s stood us up,” Dina says.
“Isn’t Cindy the tallest? She should be the one to wear the Krampus costume,” Marion says.
Cindy stands at least half a foot above the rest of us. One of her perfect eyebrows is arched in disgust. “Oh no, you don’t,” she says. “Can you imagine having a hot flash in that costume?” She waves to June’s car, where good ole Krampus’s costume rests.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that Fred is inching closer and closer to me. What the hell? He’s flicking his hand like he’s trying to snap. What an odd way to keep yourself busy.
“Need to find a restroom,” Marion says. “Be back pronto.” Her back is artificially straight as she stalks off like she’s got a stick up her butt.
That strange clicking is driving me crazy. I’m about ready to do a full-on search for it when the aroma of something burning wafts up. I’m sweating again, which is weird, being underground in a cement jungle and all. And then I look down and see smoke.
“Where is that smoke coming from?” June is looking down past my bargain boots. “Is it coming from your car?”
I crouch down and check, my skirt poufing out behind me—That’s when everyone starts talking loudly at once.
Chapter 2
First, it’s just June. “Khalie, your skirt!” Her shrill voice is coming from my left. And then everyone chimes in, shouting things I can’t understand. All I can see is smoke and the cement floor and the undercarriage of my car––A body flies at me, slamming me into my bumper, taking me down to the ground with them. The side of my face slams into the concrete––a searing pain lighting up my sight.
I crane around to see Cindy lying on top of me, her dark ringlets askew. Up close, her skin is porcelain-perfect. “Got it,” she calls out, breathing heavy.
The weight of the tackle takes my breath away, so when she crawls off, I’m left wheezing. “What happened?” I ask, rolling over, trying to see what I look like in the chrome of my bumper. The distorted image tells me nothing.
“Your skirt was on fire.” There’s something brown and furry in her hands.
“What did you put the fire out with?” June asks, her eyes wide open.
Cindy holds up the Krampus costume, a melted patch of fur next to the tail. “Harry’s costume. It was the first thing I found.”
June’s lips part in a silent scream. After a beat, she breathes in through her nose. “I just spent over a hundred dollars on updating that costume. It’s ruined.” Her voice is quiet, her full cheeks blazing red through pale face makeup.
Cindy brushes herself off and takes a look at the costume. “It’s not that bad.” She scrubs her fingers over the singed fake fur. “He’s supposed to be from hell, anyway.”
June sniffs. “We’ll make it work. How did Khalie’s skirt catch on fire?” She scans the ground, looking for evidence.
“I don’t know.” I take a closer look at the Krampus costume. It looks like Sasquatch backed into a campfire, melting his butt fur. “The Krampus costume’s fine. No one will notice.” I look around where I’m puddled on the ground searching for something that could have ignited my costume.
“So strange.” June straightens up.
“I don’t see anything that could have caused it.” I stand carefully, looking at myself in the window again. The side of my face is scraped bloody. My eyeliner is smeared, and there’s a glob of garage dirt on my cheek. Is that Dina’s cigarette butt stuck in my hair? Well shit.
June heaves a heavy sigh, holding her phone high over her head again, seeming to pray to the internet gods. “Did Harry get back to you yet?”
“Maybe.” I check my phone. It pinged a few times while they were dissing Harry. My headache from the knot on the back of my head has graduated to a throbbing, almost migraine.
With a cool hand to my forehead, I squint at my screen. It’s cracked from the impact of getting body-slammed to the cement floor, but I can still see through the webbed glass that I have seven notifications. Each one has a red warning sign next to it. “My texts and social media messages didn’t go through. No internet connection down here.” My phone service isn’t great, either.
“Darn it,” June whispers, shoving things back into a bag with a delicate touch. Louder, she says, “We better finish up and get up there.”
“Let me try to get cleaned up.” I look over my shoulder to see the damage from the fire. “How bad does my skirt look?” I ask, angling it toward the group.
“Don’t clean up too much. You can say you’re a ghost from the Great Seattle Fire of 1889.” Cindy drags her signature blood-red lipstick over her mouth.
“Gee, that makes me feel so much better.” I dive back onto my makeup bag for some emergency makeup repair.
About five minutes in, footsteps pound on the pavement, coming from the elevator bay. There’s a strange back-note of a clip-clop going on at the same time. I look up, expecting to see someone running with a pony or a kid playing with a toy or something. But no. That’s not what’s coming toward us.
Marion holds her skirts high as she runs down the parking aisle toward us. “Harry isn’t responding,” she says between labored breaths, “and I checked us in with the coordinator. We’re in space J.” She’s panting and holding out a slip of paper with a map on it.
June reaches out for it with an elegant hand, and the rest of us lean in to see where they’ve placed us. “Are we in the middle of the intersection?”
“They have the streets barricaded off––” Marion breaks off, staring down at my skirt. “What the hell happened to you?” She may look like a lady, but she fits in perfectly with the rest of us when she talks.
Everyone speaks at once: “It caught on fire!” “You wouldn’t believe it!” “So much smoke.”
The irregular clip-clop stopped when Marion got here, but it starts again. Somewhere in between a gallop and a trotting sound. I crane around, leaving the rest behind to see where it’s coming from.
A man ambles toward us dressed in a giant brown furry costume with horns, chains wrapped around his body. My spirits rise, happiness bubbling to the surface.
“Harry!” I squeal and run toward him.
****
When I make it to Harry’s side, I throw my arms around his barrel chest, my hands landing on the wicker basket he’s carrying on his back. A waxy musk odor hits me square in the face. I squint, the scent so strong I have to pull my head away. But he feels so solid and comfortable in my arms. I mean, the smell is a little…I don’t know. Muskier than usual?
“New cologne?” I whisper and give him one more squeeze before letting go. Even with the new cologne, I like what this costume does for him. “I knew you’d make it,” I say louder this time for everyone to hear.
He narrows his eyes, the mask so real I’m stunned. Wow, June really did put some money into this thing. A low growl rises from what sounds like the ground, so I back up fast. “How are you doing that?”
“Where is the boy child?” Harry growls, evading my question. When he says ‘where,’ the word has a ‘v’ at the beginning instead of ‘w.’ I mean, I know he was practicing getting into character, but since when does Krampus have a Russian accent?
“Fred?” I look back to where the rest of my group stands. He must be hiding because I can’t see him. “He’s here somewhere.”
Harry’s mask moves like he’s wearing makeup and prosthetics from the movies instead of a clumsy rubber thing.
Wait a minute. “You had Steve do your makeup! You look amazing!” I’m proud of myself for figuring it out. Steve did a fantastic job. He must have had another costume for Harry to wear, too, because the butt-singed pants are still in the back of June’s car.
Steve is part of our ghost hunti
ng group, and I’m sure he’s gonna end up in Hollywood someday with his makeup skills. I pull on Harry’s arm and start making my way back to our group. Man, this costume gives him great biceps.
It looks like Cindy is tracking our progress back to the cars, a judgy look on her face. We’re only two cars away when I say, “Anyone see Fred?”
Dina is with June at the back of June’s car, and Cindy and Marion stand by mine. Footsteps pound the cement floor off in the distance, followed by the ping of the elevator. Weird, I didn’t see anyone else here.
All five of us look at each other, then around. June shakes her head slowly at first and then with conviction as she looks around each car. “Dina? Where’s little Freddy?” Her words are laced with doubt.
“He’s over here.” Dina breaks away from the group and goes over to where I’d last seen him making that flicking motion next to my car. Even from here, I can see there’s no Fred.
“That little monster, where’d he go?” Dina pouts in concentration as she texts madly. A second passes, everyone holding their breath, and then her phone gives a tiny ping. She looks at the incoming message and tilts back her head, letting out a wail of torment. No internet. “Fred, if you don’t get back here right away, you’re dead!” she screams.
It doesn’t take a second wail for everyone to realize what’s going down. We shout out quadrants of the parking garage for each person to scout, with Harry and me left next to the cars, waiting in case Fred comes back.
“Time is if the essence. We must find the child.” Harry’s ears are fascinating, almost moving like a cat’s.
“Wait, how do you do that?” I ask, reaching up to touch them, but he’s so tall they’re out of my reach. “Is there some kind of internal control?”
“What absurdity are you talking about?” he asks, taking a step away, a stern look on his face.
“How do you move your ears like that?”
He shakes his head, impatient. “It is of the most importance to finish my mission. I have a long list to get through.”
“Dude, I’m very familiar with the Krampus myth lore. I know he’s Santa’s best bud and that he handles the naughty list. I don’t need the educational chit-chat.”
“The child—” he starts to say, but I cut him off.
“We are looking for the child, right now, in fact. Chill.”
Harry squints at me while what looks like a million responses run through his mind. He leans on my car; it squeaks and starts to roll, making my heart skip a beat, but then stops when the breaks stick.
We can hear variations of the kid’s name getting called out from every direction. After a handful of minutes, everyone comes jogging back, shaking their heads.
“Couldn’t find him,” Marion says.
“Me either.” June bends over, hands to knees, wheezing.
I can tell by Dina’s glassy eyes and knit brow that this isn’t good. Is that panic turning her face red?
“We need to find him. Everyone split up.” Dina claps her hands to get our attention.
****
We’re standing in a semi-circle around Dina, the cars behind us.
“June and Khalie, go to the cupcake store and then check out the first and second floors.”
“I need to get my cookies to the bake sale,” I say, but she keeps going.
“Cindy and Marion, you go check the third and fourth floors, including the movie theater.”
Cindy frowns. “Got it.”
“Shouldn’t we go upstairs and call the cops?” Marion asks.
Dina’s eyes widen. “No. We can’t call the cops.” She turns to Harry. “You’re with me. We’ll check out the streets surrounding the mall and then wait at our space, letter J. I swear he was here when we were talking about what space we’re at, so maybe he’ll just meet us there.” She’s talking so fast that you’d think she’s had too much caffeine. “I need the internet, and that’s the best place to get it.”
“Um, Dina? Can I be paired with Harry?” I ask.
June smiles and flutters long lashes at me. “What, I’m not good enough for you?”
“You know I love you, June, but I need to…talk to Harry for a bit.”
Dina taps her foot in impatience. “Fine. June, you’re with me.” Dina turns to Harry, who is looking away, his ear tilted to the side. “Harry?” I had no idea costumes can move so realistically. She pokes him, and he finally looks back at her. “You’re with Khalie.”
My heart leaps in joy. I’m proud to be at Harry’s side, especially with how good he looks in this costume. He’s so tall, with his shoulders drawn back, head held high. I think I’m warming to his new cologne, too.
“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.” Dina claps her hands, greasy hair bouncing.
There is a chorus of agreements as the rest of us shove on our hats and grab our things, arming the car alarms.
With my backpack and bag in hand, I head off with Harry at my side. His costume is so soft. I’m staring lasers into Cindy’s back as she walks in front of us, swinging her hips. June and Dina trail behind.
About halfway to the elevators, my foot lands on uneven ground, and I stumble. Harry’s hand––or should I say paw?––shoots out with lighting speed and grabs my outstretched arms. He effortlessly helps me to steady myself. Wow, he’s even gotten manners since I’ve seen him last time.
“Thank you,” I say. Harry nods gallantly, deep in character. His acting lessons are paying off.
I readjust my backpack over my shoulder and inspect the ground below me. There’s a hot pink lighter on the cement floor. I kick it aside, my brain spinning. Isn’t that the same lighter Dina used to light her cigarette?
Fred’s ghostly white face flicks across my mind, that smirk of his confirming who the lighter belongs to. “Fred!” My brain is going to explode. “That little shit!” I shriek, and everyone looks at me.
“What are you going on about?” Marion calls out from a few steps ahead of us.
I puff my chest out. “Dina’s little monster is the one who lit my skirt on fire!”
The word ‘fire’ falls flat against the soundproofing in the garage, but a lone person walking by looks at me, alarmed, then hurries off. Lesson learned: this is not the thing you want to say out loud in a place with good acoustics.
“What did you say?” Dina whirls around, squinting, her arms crossed across her faded black ruffled blouse. Harry and I are smack in the middle of my group, with Dina and June behind us. Everyone except for Dina is nodding in recognition.
Marion thrusts her shoulders back. “Your kid is out of control, Dina. He lit Khalie’s skirt on fire. You need to handle him.”
A shrill sound escapes Dina’s full lips. She stomps her foot and stalks off.
“Fancy of you to finally make it,” June says to Harry. She giggles, her delicate hand flying over her mouth. “I’m sorry, did I say that out loud? I meant to say, ‘So glad you could make it!’” She goes around us on her way to follow Dina.
“We should get moving.” Cindy sashays after June.
They are waiting at the elevator when we get there. June glances up at us through the black veil she’s pulled over her face. “You guys, the judges will be stopping by—” She looks at the piece of paper in her hand. “—at five twenty. It’s four thirty-one. We need to find Fred fast.”
Dina stares at the ground, ignoring us. What a drama queen.
I roll my eyes and sigh, tugging on Harry, who looks like he’s ready to walk away. “You coming? We need to find the kid before we go to our spot.” I point up.
Harry gives off a breath-grunt. “I do not have time to waste. I must find the child before it’s too late.” The word ‘waste’ comes out like ‘vayst,’ somewhere between a Russian and German accent. At least he’s trying to make his costume come off more authentic. Krampus is from German folklore, right along with Hansel and Gretel, though he’s featured in other cultures as well.
“Whoa, take a chill pill there,” I say. “We’
re trying to locate him.”
Harry grunts again, but he bends his head to get on the elevator with us when an empty one finally stops on our floor.
****
We barely fit in the elevator with our hoopskirts and giant hats, never mind the bags we are toting along with us. The ceiling is so low that Harry has to crouch. Almost everyone starts sniffing and giving Harry the side-eye, his cologne so strong.
“Why does it smell like cat litter in here?” Marion asks, her face scrunched up in confusion.
“I don’t smell anything weird.” I’d be offended, I mean, he is my boyfriend, but he barely changes the cat litter at his house. It’s not surprising that he’d smell like a litter box.
Seeing Harry stand next to Cindy is eye-opening. He’s over a foot taller than her. I remember lying in bed curled up at his side as he talked about making special stilts to fit inside the Krampus costume pants. I just didn’t know he had the skill to make them. He’s more of a dreamer than a doer, usually.
Everyone is silent and tense for most of the ride. I’m singing inside of my head, trying to remember the lyrics to our Krampus carols and failing madly. Probably because my head hurts from this whole fiasco. Harry looks around, his eyes wild, ears down as if planning his escape. Those ears are badass.
When the door slides open, we’re greeted by people trying to board our car. Their mouths drop open when Harry lurches out, and all but one scatter. Five ghosts and a man in an extremely convincing Krampus costume probably make a disturbing sight. June, Dina, and I file out of the elevator, excuse me, pardoning me, our way. Marion and Cindy stay behind on their way to the third floor, both glaring after us.
“Meet us at space J by five twenty,” June calls over her shoulder, rushing after Dina, who is almost running.
I break free from the crowd entering the elevator to find Harry, looking around the first floor. I put my hands on his lower back and gently shove, but he doesn’t even look at me. “Come on. We need to get searching.”