The Toothless Dead

by Dan Dillard

  “But we’ve come this far,” Robbie said.

  “He’s right, bro. Besides, this is the Underground Railroad. Ghosts. Monsters. Giant rats. How can we quit now?”

  “Giant rats?” Brad asked.

  Zack pushed his way between them.

  “There has to be some kind of handle,” he said.

  He kicked at a dark patch in the floor. It was full of muck, and looked like a brick was missing. He dug some of the slime out with the toe of his shoe and uncovered a ring of metal. A worm wriggled out from the center of it and burrowed into the soft stuff on the other side of the ring.

  “I’m not touching that,” Zack said. He gulped and stood up.

  “Robbie, you’re already covered in the shit. You do it,” Brad said.

  Amy sighed and knelt down, tracing her finger around the ring and scooping up the sludge. She flicked her hand at the wall, flinging a clump of green-gray matter which stuck exactly where it landed. Zack gagged. She pulled at the ring, which opened a small compartment, also filled with the foul stuff.

  Taking a breath, Amy shoved her hand inside, and it disappeared to just above her wrist. Then she gasped.

  “There’s a knob or something. A handle,” she said.

  “Can you turn it?” Zack asked.

  “I don’t think I...” she started.

  She strained, using her shoulder and her whole upper body. Something in the floor made a CHUNK-CHUNK sound, followed by the squealing of metal on metal before the hatch lid popped up about an inch, and stale air escaped from around the edges in a gasp. Brad helped her pull the door up, lifting the hatch on its ancient hinges. Underneath was a ladder which led down to a small platform. Beyond that, in the shadows, was a staircase that went even further into the darkness.

  Amy stood and wiped her hand on the brick wall, then smiled proudly at the boys. They stared back, reluctant to move.

  “Ladies first,” Robbie said. He leaned in next to her and whispered, “Now you stink too.”

  She wiped some more of the sludge off of her hand and onto his shirt.

  “I’ll go. We have to hurry,” Zack said.

  Robbie grabbed him before he started down the ladder.

  “Zack, listen. Last time we did this, I blew up a rat, then almost got eaten by a centipedes. Then I fell in poopwater.”

  Brad snickered and Amy nodded. Zack pulled his arm loose from Robbie’s grip and started down the ladder. It creaked under his weight and his flashlight shined up and out as he descended. When he hit bottom, he called out. “Come on, it’s okay.”

  “What do you see?” Amy said, leaning over the opening.

  Zack investigated, moving the light from one side to the other before he looked back up at her.

  “More stairs,” he said. “They go up on the other side. Then there’s another ladder, like it just goes under that wall up there.”

  “Weird,” Amy said.

  “Yeah, and there’s another hatch on the other side,” Zack continued.

  He left her sight, and walked across to the other steps and climbed the ladder just as Amy came down behind him. Robbie followed next, then Brad. Zack tried to push up on the other hatch, but it wouldn’t budge. He stepped up to the next rung and pressed his shoulder into the door and it still wouldn’t move.

  “Maybe there’s another handle somewhere?” Brad said.

  He pushed his way next to his brother and grabbed the flashlight. It shined on the walls around the ladder, then up to the closed hatch, then to the ceiling. Along the ceiling, there was some kind of mechanical network of rods and levers and gears.

  “Huh,” Brad said. “I wonder.”

  “What?” Amy and Zack said together.

  “Robbie, pull that other door shut,” Brad said, pointing up at the other ladder.

  “But we’ll be stuck in here,” Robbie said.

  “I don’t think so. Just do it, rat-boy.”

  Robbie gazed at Zack and Amy with trepidation. Their faces offered no help in return. He climbed up the ladder and pulled down on the hatch which shut like it was on a spring. The clockwork of gadgets over their head shifted, rods pushing and gears turning with mechanical clicks and creaks, revealing a handle that dropped from the second door. Zack grabbed it and pulled and the new door opened just enough to see light on the other side. He held it in place and peered through the opening. Amy looked up at him in anticipation.

  “See anything?” she said.

  “Coast is clear,” he replied.

  Zack let the door rise slowly until it stopped. He saw the tunnel above him and pushed gently on the hatch until it was fully opened. The room above him was not part of the sewer. It was dingy, but from age instead of flushed toilets. The walls were lined with old strands of Christmas lights which gave it a warm, if odd, glow. Zack stepped into the strange new area with caution.

  He saw newspaper and magazine clippings taped to the brick walls. The headlines dated back to the 1860’s and the civil war through the 1960’s and civil rights and all the way up to present day. On the floor was strewn other memorabilia, mostly toys, many broken, many mended. Amy climbed up and out, followed quickly by the other two.

  “Wow,” Zack said.

  “What is this place?” Amy asked.

  “Must be part of the Railroad,” Brad said.

  The room went on for a great distance to the left before it turned a corner. Rustling and clinking sounds came from around that corner, and the kids walked wide-eyed toward the noise, taking quick glimpses at the objects around them as they crept along.

  Amy tiptoed ahead as Zack and Brad stopped to look at one article about Frank Robinson, then another about Hank Aaron. There was one about Rosa Parks and newer ones about African-American actors and politicians, scientists, even President Obama. The boys smiled, in awe of the collection, of the state of the room, of the whole experience. Amy snuck up to the corner and peeked around with one eye.

  Ol’ Mumbles was there in his same uniform, rifling through papers and tools, opening drawers and lifting lids on boxes and crates.

  “Got to be one dem here sommers!” he said in a harsh whisper.

  Amy waved excitedly, keeping her eye on him and the boys came quickly to her side.

  “What is it?” Zack said in a whisper.

  She turned back around the corner.

  “Mumbles,” she said.

  “What?” Robbie said.

  “Shh, Mumbles is in there.”

  “The creepy cemetery guy?”

  Brad gulped. “I hate that guy,” he said. “He was old and creepy when I was little.”

  “He’s got Alex, I just know it,” Amy said.

  “He sniffed too many corpses. He’s been around dead folks so long, he cracked. He’s the tooth dude. I just know it,” Robbie said.

  His voice was too loud for a whisper and Amy swatted at him, then put a finger to her lips. Zack watched around the corner. “What’s he looking for?” he said.

  Mumbles flipped through more papers and rummaged in more boxes and barrels. He was surrounded by what looked like a large workshop. An old wrinkled hand scratched the scruffy tufts above his ear and the other rested on his hip. Mumbles sighed. “We gotta get outta here before he hears us,” Zack said.

  “But what about Alex? You dragged us all in here,” Amy replied.

  “I know. But I need to think, I can’t think in here.”

  Just then Mumbles exclaimed, “Dere dat be!”

  “Crap. He found whatever he was lookin’ for,” Zack said. “Hurry.”

  He turned and motioned for Robbie to go back. Robbie stepped backwards as instructed, but tangled his feet in a pile of broken toys. He lost his footing and tumbled into the wheel of an old boneshaker bicycle. It toppled and between the sound of that mechanical monstrosity hitting the concrete floor and the toys it sent spraying in all directions, the world stopped. Amy slapped her forehead.

  “Huh?” they heard Mumbles say from around the corner.

&nbs
p; “Really?” Brad said out loud as whispering was no longer necessary.

  “Who dat be now?” Mumbles said, alerted by the ruckus and walking around the corner. He entered the smaller room holding a large pair of bolt cutters.

  “Shit! He’s gonna kill us!” Brad shouted and jumped behind Robbie.

  Zack and Amy each grabbed one of Robbie’s hands and tried to help him up, but Mumbles grabbed them by the collars of their shirts and pulled them back.

  “Whew, children, y’all stink. What you done got into?”

  The word children sounded like chirrun.

  All four of them froze.

  “Leave dem children for jus’ a minute, they find troubles.”

  Amy and Zack screamed, struggling to get away and Mumbles let them go. Brad passed out and crumpled onto the floor.

  “Calm down now. Calm down,” Mumbles said.

  He looked over at Brad.

  “Damn. He gon be alright?”

  Zack ignored his brother. He stood up to Mumbles and pointed a finger into the old man’s face.

  “You took Alex! Where is he?”

  Mumbles looked confused. Robbie shook his head, his eyes were shut tight. “Don’t eat us, tooth dude. Please don’t eat us,” he said.

  Amy was frozen. Mumbles looked from one crazed child to the next, taking it all in. Then he chuckled. It was a good, hearty laugh.

  “What could possibly be funny?” Zack said.

  Mumbles chuckled some more.

  “How I’m s’posed ta eat you if’n I gots no teeth?” he said.

  Then he smiled and showed he was all gums. Amy climbed over the giant bicycle wheel to check on Brad.

  “Where’s Alex?” Zack demanded.

  Mumbles stopped laughing and wiped tears from his eyes.

  “Who Alex? Is he dat boy dat screamin’ all da time?”

  Amy got Brad roused up and helped him start to stand.

  “That’s right,” Zack said. “What’d you do with him?”

  Mumbles shook his head.

  “I didn’t done nothin’ wit’ him. He up dere in da graveyard.”

  Amy and Robbie screamed again. Brad fainted again, falling and knocking his head on the floor.

  “No, no. He fine. I mean, he scared, but he locked in one da crypts. I come to find da bolt cutters so I could get him free.”

  He looked over at Brad again.

  “You sure he gon’ be alright dat boy dere?”

  Amy snapped her fingers to get Mumble’s attention.

  “He’ll be fine. Alex. Crypt. Get him out.”

  “Can’t. Got no key. Dese might work, but I dunno.”

  He picked up the bolt cutters. Zack frowned.

  “Wait. Who put him in there? How did he get locked up?”

  Mumbles looked concerned, then guilty. He stared at the floor.

  “We know about the Tootheater,” Amy said.

  “And the Underground Railroad,” Robbie added.

  “And Harlan Crowe,” Zack said.

  Mumbles looked up. All guilt and concern left his face and there was nothing left but anger.

  “Don’t never say dat name where he might hear you. How you know dat name?” he said.

  Zack and Amy looked at Brad. He was rousing again, holding his head. Zack looked back at Mumbles.

  “Where who might hear me?” he asked.

  Mumbles lowered his head and spoke in a low, almost inaudible voice.

  “Crowe. He bad. Maybe he da worse.”

  “Is he the one who has Alex?”

  “Could be.”

  Brad stood up with Amy’s help. He blinked his eyes trying to clear his vision. Robbie turned pale.

  “You mean that dentist guy from the 1800’s?”

  “Zactly,” Mumbles said.

  “Is he the ghost that chased us this morning?”

  “Could be,” Mumbles said.

  “But there’s no such things as ghosts,” Brad said.

  Amy turned red. She lashed out at him.

  “We started all this…we came down here because you said there were. Alex is stuck in a grave because of you. I’m covered in dead rat and poop because of you, you…asshole!” she shouted.

  Brad backed away as she snapped at him, barking like an angry little dog. Mumbles had another chuckle.

  “Hoo. Boy, she tell you!”

  “That’s right. It’s my fault. Now, if you’ll just show us the way out, sir. We can get Alex out of the graveyard and go home before our parents find out.”

  They all looked at Mumbles.

  “Sound good,” he said. “Just one thin’.”

  “What’s that?” Brad said.

  “They is ghosts. All y’all believe dat ‘cause it da truth.”

  He winked at Robbie.

  “Okay, weird sewer guy,” Brad said.

  “It da truth,” Mumbles said.

  Brad rolled his eyes. “You ever watched those ghost shows on TV? Everybody’s got night vision and computers and digital recorders and infrared and cameras… and they never find anything. Ever. And you just keep tuning in to watch, but nothing ever happens...nothing...never…”

  He stared at the space behind Mumbles. They all did because as Brad was ranting, a mist leaked out from the wall, then spread and swirled and materialized over Mumbles’ left shoulder. When it was done, there was a young, dark-skinned woman there. She was completely formed, but remained translucent.

  “Robert, you g’ on an’ tell dem da truth. Tell dem ‘bout dat devil man,” she said in the same thick Creole accent Mumbles used.

  Robbie pulled his camera from his pocket and held it up to his face and pushed the button. The shutter opened and black sludge poured out of it. With a small blue spark and a spurt of smoke, the camera was dead. Brad passed out one more time.

  “Momma, go way. Told you I ain’t talkin’ to ya no more,” Mumbles said.

  He swiped his hand through the apparition. The mist swirled at her midsection and reformed.

  “Momma?” Amy said.

  “Robert,” the ghost continued, “it been over hun’red and fitfty years. I say I’m sorry fuh what I done. I say it again and again.”

  “Zactly. Hun’red and fifty years I been stuck here in dis place.”

  “That’s a ghost,” Robbie said. “Right there. That’s a ghost.” He stared with his mouth open. The ghost looked at Amy, then Zack and Robbie. Her face was lovely, but sad.

  “Crowe hurt a lotta folks. Good people,” she said.

  “My brother told me he killed slaves,” Zack said, looking at Brad who was still passed out.

  “Don’t talk to it, Zack! What are you thinkin?” Robbie said.

  “Shut up,” Zack said.

  “Not slaves, son. Free folks. They was here, in da Undergroun’ Railroad. They was already free.”

  Mumbles leered at his mother.

  “What happened?” Zack said. “I mean, back then.”

  “Sit down, chile. All ya sit. And dat one...he gon’ be alright?” she said.

  Brad groaned, but didn’t wake up.

  CHAPTER 22

  Mumbles’ momma swirled her arms around as the children watched, she talked, and they watched as the scene played out inside a ball of mist in front of them. A small town appeared, and in its streets there were carriages and men on horseback.

  “Dis place was called Crowe’s Foot back den and it was no more than a dot on da map. Da civil war was killin’ boys young as you two. Fightin’ for freedom, dey was. Good men, some o’ dem. Some just misguided. Some was da blackest evil. So some folks started this Undergroun’ Railroad to help folks get from da slave states to da free states.”

  The kids watched and listened intently. The ghostly puppet show continued, closing in on the dentist’s office of Harlan Crowe. The name was painted in gold letters on a window which was inset in an old wooden door.

  “Dat office was the last stop before we was to be free. Dat Crowe tol’ e’ryone he was a shepherd. He was dere to
help an’ we believed what he say. We had to. It was da only way to get our families…to get our children safe. Dey blindfold us and put sacks over our heads, keep us in da dark while they put us in da tunnels. Dey take us someplace where we could get to da free states or up into Canada.”

  “Why did they blindfold you?” Amy asked.

  Momma smiled.

  “De didn’t wan’ us knowin’ da way. It was safer for all if we don’t know da way. If da law find us, we can’t show dem how to find da rest. Might lead dem slave ownin’ bastards to da Railroad and close it down. Do you understand, child?”

  Amy nodded.

  “Dat Crowe, he take us one at a time. I let him take my baby, Robert, firs’. He say he give us da gas an’ make us sleep. When we wake up, he say, we be free.”

  “Gas?” Zack asked.

  “Da laughin’ gas,” Mumbles said.

  Momma nodded.

  “We was so excited, we let him do anythin’, ya know? Next step was freedom, ya understan’? Freedom fuh my boy. He wasn’t gon’ live like I lived. No way I wanted dat to happen. So I let him go firs’. My baby was only eight years old.”

  A ghostly tear ran off her cheek and dripped, cutting a swath through the swirling puppet show. It healed itself and she continued.

  “Dat man...dat...creature, gas my baby. He pull all his teeth. All o’ dem. Who know what evil he do if I don’t walk in right den?”

  “You caught him?” Amy said.

  Momma nodded.

  “What did you do?” Amy said.

  The swirling ball grew brighter and showed Crowe standing over a boy in a dentist’s chair. He held a pair of pliers in his hand with a freshly pulled tooth in the jaws. He plucked it from the pliers and popped it into his mouth, crunched down and chewing the tooth up.

  “He had da crazy in his eyes. Da devil in his eyes. Muh boy lay still, blood leakin’ from his mouth. I think dat he was dead. I lose muh mind den an’ I start screamin’.”

  The Crowe puppet turned slowly with a wicked grin on its face and still crunched on the teeth.

  “What did you do?” Zack said.

  “I curse him,” she said.

  “Like voodoo?” Robbie asked.

  She nodded slowly. The puppets circled each other.

  “Mm hmm. Da darkest voodoo I know.”

  Mumbles nodded. “Yep.”

  Momma shed another tear.

  “Baby, yo’ momma is so sorry. I didn’t know you was still livin’. I done los’ hope.”

  Mumbles swatted his hands through the puppet show and looked at the kids with a solemn face. “She curse dat doctor, cast a spell wit’ all her hate,” he said. “Curse him ta walk da earth in limbo, to suffer here until time for him ta go to hell. She curse him to be chained to da land like da people he kill. But some’ dat curse curse me too. Her only son.”