The Toothless Dead

by Dan Dillard

  “I don’t understand, Mrs. Lark,” he said.

  “I mean, I’ve been grading these same assignments for a lot of years. It would be nice, for a change, to read something a little different. Write your paper about the ghosts in the Underground Railroad; don’t just give me some definition you found on the internet. I still want you to do the research and use facts, but an adventure story would be like a cool breeze on a hot day.”

  “Oh,” Zack said.

  Mrs. Lark gave a hearty laugh. “A regular essay would be fine as well if that sounds intimidating.”

  “No. No, I like the idea,” he said.

  Zack was at once thrilled and confused. She handed him a couple of old books on the subject. Their bindings were worn, threads hung down from the spines and cardboard poked through the woven fabric covers. The paper had yellowed from age and dog-ears showed tiny gaps in between the stacked pages.

  “These might help you. I’d prefer you used them as opposed to the internet.” She raised an eyebrow. “Or the sewer. Don’t think about goin’ down in that stinky place. It’s no place for either of you, or your tiny little noses. Books are places for noses, Zack. It’s the best place to have yours.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

  They shook hands. It felt like an odd gesture after the cookies and the tales of ghosts and slavery. Zack felt a hug seemed more appropriate, like Mrs. Lark was more like a grandmother than someone he would shake hands with. Amy didn’t seem to care. She bounded down the front steps of the old house and mounted her bicycle.

  ***

  Back home, Zack sat at the kitchen table and twirled a salt shaker, watching it wobble and the settle. Then he twirled it again. His mother and father had gone out for some errand or other and his brother was in the living room watching reruns on television. Amy opened the refrigerator and found some juice.

  “What are you thinkin’ about?” she asked.

  “I think we need Robbie to spend the night again,” Zack said.

  “Mom and Dad won’t go for that.”

  “Why? We didn’t get in any trouble last night. Besides, it’s fall break.”

  “Okay, well, you ask ‘em. I’m staying out of it.”

  “All they can say is no,” he said.

  Amy sat at the table and watched Zack. He’d dropped the salt shaker in favor of flipping through one of the books Mrs. Lark had loaned him. Inside were pictures of Harriet Tubman, and maps of the United States with lines depicting routes through the Underground Railroad. He walked to the garage door and picked up his book bag. From inside, Zack fished out a spiral notebook and some pencils and sat back down.

  He flipped to an empty page and titled it: GHOSTS OF THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD by Zack Winter.

  Then he started to write. He had almost one full page when his brother walked in from the living room. All three kids were looking at the books when their parents entered from the garage. Zack was madly scribbling notes from one book, Amy was reading over his shoulder and Brad was thumbing through the second book.

  “I’m dumbfounded. Honey? Aren’t you dumbfounded?” Kathy Winter said.

  “Absolutely dumbfounded,” James Winter replied.

  Amy glanced up and then back at the book.

  “What are you doing?” their mother asked.

  “Working on my paper,” Zack said.

  “Reading,” Brad said.

  Kathy Winter put her hand on her chest and smiled. She set the bag of random shopping on the kitchen counter and stared at her children.

  “We haven’t failed, James.”

  “Oh, yeah, Mom. I meant to tell you this morning. I got a job. Gonna work with Rodney out at the hardware store. They needed another person to help stock. He can take me to and from work until I can buy my car. I start on Thursday,” Brad said. Then he stood up, never taking his eyes off the book and disappeared into the living room.

  Kathy and James looked at each other. They were speechless.

  “Mom, can Robbie spend the night again?” Zack asked, still scribbling.

  “Uh…sure, honey. That’d be great,” she said.

  A few minutes later, Robbie’s parents agreed, and a few hours later, after some pizza and video games, the three children fell asleep under the same blanket-tent in Zack’s bedroom.

  CHAPTER 13

  Dew glistened on the seats of three bicycles. The sun was still down, barely causing a blue spot on the eastern horizon. Zack was already dressed and had taken down the tent. Robbie was yawning, still trying to figure out where he was. Noise was coming from the kitchen.

  “What’s goin’ on?” Robbie said.

  “It’s morning. Time to go soon,” Zack answered.

  “Really? Awesome sauce,” Robbie said, finding his motivation. He stood up and stretched, then started walking.

  “Where you goin?” Zack said, grabbing his arm.

  “Bathroom.”

  “Hold it for a couple minutes. Amy’s doing recon.”

  “Huh?”

  “She’s making sure my parents are gone to work. They think we’re still asleep.”

  “Oh. But I gotta pee.”

  “Deal with it for a minute, will ya?”

  Robbie nodded and bit his lip.

  “Get dressed and get your stuff ready. Got anything useful in there?”

  Zack eyed Robbie’s backpack.

  “Pocket knife, some fireworks, not much.”

  “Fireworks?”

  “Hey, ya never know,” Robbie said.

  “Good enough. We’ll grab some snacks and my mom’s camera, then sneak out after they leave. We’ll have eight hours to get in, snap some ghost pictures and get out or we’re doomed,” Zack said.

  “What about your brother?”

  “He’s usually out cold until noon. By the time he wakes up, we might be rich.”

  Robbie nodded.

  “Dude. I really gotta pee.”

  Zack looked at his clock. 6:54 am.

  “Just a couple more minutes.”

  Amy sat at the kitchen table in her pajamas, yawning. Her hair was knotted and frizzy and she had bits of sleep crust in her eyes. Her mother dabbed a damp towel on them, wiping them clean and hugged the little girl.

  “You need to go back to bed. You’re up too early.”

  “Think I’ll watch cartoons. Maybe eat some cereal,” Amy said.

  “Sounds good. Think I’ll do that today as well,” her dad said with a smirk.

  “Nope. Got to go earn some money to pay for all this magic,” Mom said, waving her arms around.

  She scruffed Amy’s hair and kissed her, then took a swig of coffee. After pouring the rest down the sink, she set her mug down and grabbed her coat and keys.

  “Hurry babe, don’t wanna be late,” she said, whirling past her husband and out the door.

  Amy watched her dad do the same thing, then scratched Roscoe when he came looking for scraps.

  “Feed him,” her dad said.

  “Okay,” Amy said.

  She went to the pantry and pulled a large bag of dog food out into the kitchen floor, scooped a cup full with a No Coffee No Workee mug that lived inside the bag, and poured it into Roscoe’s bowl. He crunched greedily at the kibble. Mr. Winter hugged her and bolted out the door, pausing for only a moment.

  “Brad’s in charge. Behave. Love you,” he said.

  Then he was gone. Amy watched out the front window as his small Japanese car backed out, turned and left. She put the dog food back and pulled some candy, chips, cereal bars and water bottles out of the closet. With the items lined up on the kitchen counter she separated them into three piles.

  “Good enough.”

  Amy climbed up on the desk next to the telephone and opened the cabinet above to find her mother’s camera and an extra package of batteries. She placed the camera next to the food and sprinted to Zack’s room, throwing the door open.

  “They’re gone,” she said.

  Zack had several items laid out on the
bed and was busy stuffing them into a back pack.

  “You get the food?” he asked.

  “Water bottles, cereal bars, candy from dad’s secret stash and mom’s digital camera that she got for Christmas. Even got some extra batteries.”

  Zack nodded.

  “Nice,” Robbie said. “I’ve got a camera, too.”

  “I got flashlights, a compass, a pry bar I found in the garage in case we need to open something, rope and my cell phone,” Zack said.

  “Probably won’t work down there,” Robbie said.

  “Why not?” Amy said.

  “No signal underground,” Robbie said.

  “Oh. It’ll still take pictures, won’t it?” Amy said.

  Robbie shrugged.

  “We set?” Zack said.

  “Yup,” Amy and Robbie replied.

  Robbie smiled ear to ear. Then he looked worried. “I forgot,” he said.

  “What?” Zack said.

  Amy stared at him.

  “I still gotta pee.”

  Zack and Amy both stared at him.

  “It’s the next door on the left,” Zack said and Robbie disappeared.

  Zack and Amy left the room, headed toward the front door and waited on Robbie. The toilet flushed, then there were footsteps. Then a thud, followed by Robbie shouting, “Ow!” A few more footsteps and Robbie appeared. “I ran into the table.”

  “You’re a dork,” Zack said.

  “Are we going to get Alex?” Amy asked.

  “Yep. Just sent him a text. He said his parents are already gone,” Zack replied.

  “He’s stayin’ with his Granddad?” Amy said.

  “Yep.”

  They chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” Robbie asked.

  “You’ll see,” Amy said.

  Outside, it was still dark. The sun was struggling to come up, but hadn’t quite made it. The trio mounted their bikes, double checked that their back packs were strapped on and zipped, and rolled.

  ***

  Alex looked out the window in time to see Robbie, Zack and Amy roll up on their bikes. Amy and Robbie dropped theirs in the grass, but Zack propped his neatly on its kickstand, making sure it was out of the way for anyone who might want to use the front walk.

  Granddad snored loudly in his recliner. The television was still on from the night before. A hot, but rapidly cooling cup of coffee sat neglected next to him on the end table.

  Alex slipped out the front door and shut it quietly. He waved at the others.

  “What’s up?” Zack said.

  “Nothin’,” Alex replied in his shy way.

  “What’s so funny about your Granddad?” Robbie asked.

  Alex grinned and pointed at the window next to the right of the front door. Light flickered from the television inside. Robbie, Zack and Amy ran over and peeked inside. His granddad sat in the same recliner, feet propped up, head back and mouth wide open. His robe had fallen open to reveal he was wearing boxer shorts and nothing else underneath.

  “Ewww,” Amy said.

  Then Granddad snored so loud they heard it through the walls. Robbie giggled.

  “Come on, we don’t have time for this right now,” Zack said. “Alex, you got your phone?”

  “Yup,” he said.

  “Good. If we get separated, we can text. Might not work down there, but keep trying.”

  “I vote we stay together,” Robbie said.

  “I vote we don’t go down there at all,” Amy said.

  The boys glared at her. She shrugged.

  “Dumb and stupid.”

  Zack, Amy, Robbie and Alex headed toward the center of town, each with a backpack full of supplies. They stayed away from the street lamps until they got past all the neighborhoods where they might be spotted and recognized, and when they got to the edge of Walker’s Woods, next to the wrought iron and stone fencing of the cemetery, they stopped. Robbie gave Alex a small shove, then a wink. Alex shoved back, his shyness starting to wear off around the new kid.

  “Crowe’s Foot Cemetery,” Zack said.

  “Yeah, so? We were here a couple days ago,” Robbie said. “Old guy who smells like farts or something?”

  “But you heard my brother’s story,” Amy said.

  “What? What story?” Alex said.

  “That was a bunch of crap,” Robbie said.

  “What was?” Alex said.

  The others ignored his questions.

  “Shut up, Robbie,” Zack said, watching the graveyard. “We went and talked to one of my teachers yesterday, Mrs. Lark? You’ll meet her soon enough. She said it was probably all true.”

  “Bullcrap,” Robbie said.

  Alex giggled.

  “What’s so funny?” Robbie said, giving him another small shove, almost sending Alex to the ground.

  “You said bullcrap,” Alex said and shoved back, not moving Robbie at all.

  “So?”

  “So it’s a funny word. I never heard it before.”

  “I say it all the time,” Robbie said.

  “Bullcrap,” Amy said.

  They all chuckled.

  “It’s true. Mrs. Lark gave us cookies and told us about the Underground Railroad, and about Dr. Crowe. Said he killed a bunch of folks and buried them down in the tunnels under Walker’s Woods.”

  “She really said that?” Robbie said.

  “Yep. She gave me some books to read, too. It’s all true. He did kill people and he was hung up for it by his neck,” Zack said.

  “Hanged,” Amy said.

  “Yeah, right. Hanged,” Zack said.

  “Cool,” Alex said.

  “What did she say about the ghost?” Robbie said.

  “What ghost?” Alex said.

  They ignored his question again.

  “She said it was probably true, too. She said so many people were killed on their way to freedom, that they were probably looking for him. For revenge. And she said he used to eat kids’ teeth. I think he’s the Tootheater,” Amy said.

  Robbie nodded, but didn’t speak. They walked their bikes past the graveyard, practically tip-toeing along and watching as the sun came up. The breeze was stiff, riding in on an approaching cold front, and Robbie pointed and watched as that creeping mist started to disappear from the fenced, grassy expanse.

  “Guys,” he said, pointing.

  “What are you lookin’ at?” Alex said.

  In the haze of the morning sun, there was a glimmer in the distance. They all turned, looking in the same direction, squinting into the pink sky as the big red-orange ball rose. Something shimmered, wavering like a mirage, only a mirage that moved from tree to tree, and in between the headstones.

  “What is that?” Amy said.

  “What is what?” Robbie asked.

  “That,” Zack said, pointing.

  It took Robbie a second to find what they were looking at. The hazy figure, a mist at best, came from between two oak trees and stopped at one grave. Behind it, in the distance, another one moved from place to place, still another over by a group of shrubs, and a pair on the walking path beyond.

  They were ghosts and they were everywhere.

  Zack noticed the leaves, turning for fall, were rattling in a substantial amount of wind, and that the sun was just coming up—just like Brad had said. He looked at the ground, seeing the creeping fog that was normally there, had completely dissipated. Robbie held up his cell phone and clicked the camera button over and over.

  “That misty blanket is what keeps the dead asleep,” he whispered.

  Robbie heard him. His face turned white as the blood drained. His feet were cemented in place, but weak knees required he grab the wrought iron rails.

  “Ghosts. I know they’re ghosts,” Robbie said, his voice shaking.

  His hands shook too. The vibration rattled a padlocked chain on the gate which was a full ten feet away. Amy pulled Robbie’s hands free, attempting to quiet the noise, but it was too late. One of the spirits looked up
and Alex squeaked like a dog’s chew toy. The shimmer’s head locked on the four children and started toward them, coming at an alarming rate, one hundred yards, seventy five yards…

  “I know youuuuu,” the entity shrieked, pointing at the four kids. “I knowww yooouuu!”

  The voice was shrill and raspy, like an elderly mad man.

  “Guys!” Zack shouted. He turned and ran, pushing his bike to a roll, then hopping on.

  The other three followed, sprinting, backpacks bouncing on their small shoulders, bikes falling into a single file line, Zack, Amy, Robbie, and finally Alex. The thing turned to intercept them and skirted the fence. Zack looked back just in time and saw it spread massive, gaseous arms. He screamed and faced forward, doubling his effort on the pedals. The others copied his urgency, cranking away because their lives surely depended on it. None of them noticed how far Alex had fallen behind or that the creature had focused its chase on him.

  “Teeethhh,” the thing hissed.

  Robbie screamed, “Shhiiiiiittt!”

  Amy said, “It’s him! It’s the Tootheater! It’s himmm!”

  Zack was out of breath.

  “Teeethhh,” it said again aiming directly at Alex.

  Robbie, Amy and Zack rode on, continuing past the edge of the downtown square. None of them stopped, none of them so much as turned their heads or they would have seen Alex and his Xmen backpack getting scooped up into the spirit’s arms.

  “You dare deny me my teeeeeth,” it said.

  Alex tried to scream, but it somehow stifled the noise with those ethereal hands, pulling him higher, off of the small bike and into the air.

  None of them saw Alex’s bicycle coast into the grassy entry to the cemetery and fall over with a clinking sound. None saw the boy become airborne, carried by the monstrous thing that took him back into the cemetery. None noticed as the wind died, and the misty blanket once again covered the ground, and the sun strengthened, lighting the earth and warming the air, and the visions of spirits evaporated into the clear morning light, back to rest in the creeping mist.

  Now three, they coasted down one hill and pumped back up the next, turning back toward their houses. Their chests burned, and their legs burned. No one stopped until they couldn’t hear the awful sound of its voice anymore and then they fell into three heaving, sweaty lumps on Robbie’s front lawn.

  In between gasps for air, Robbie kept repeating, “Crap. Oh crap. Crap crap. Oh crap.”

  Zack sat up, also panting. He looked around, grimacing, glad to be alive. Then his face paled. He patted his sister on the arm, his chest still heaving.

  “Guys…where’s…Alex?” he said.