Don't Close Your Eyes! (8 page)

They
can't
be my parents!
I thought.

They
can't
know about Inkweed! They
can't
want Inkweed out!

I stared at them, trembling in horror, and watched them raise their flashlights under their chins. The light spilled over their faces with an eerie glow.

“Let Inkweed out. Let Inkweed out,” they both chanted.

“Mom! Dad! Why are you doing this?” I cried.

They didn't answer. They opened their mouths wide.

I heard a gurgling. Then a horrifying
retching
sound from deep in their throats.

And then
gushers
of black ink spewed from their mouths.

I raised my hands to cover my face as it poured over me, hot and putrid. The twin streams of ink washed over my head, down my shoulders. I heard it splash at my feet.

My parents made ugly retching sounds, as if they were vomiting the hot, smelly ink from deep inside them. I couldn't move away from it. I struggled to breathe.

The black ink shot over me, splashing hard, pounding my head, dropping me to my knees.

I tried to breathe—and sucked ink into my nose, down my throat. Burning ink. It tasted sour, like spoiled milk.

I started to gag and choke.

I flailed my arms. I tried to dive away from it.

But the streams were too powerful. They covered me.

Covered me …

Covered me in a thick, sticky blanket of darkness.

I heard the retching sounds. The splash of ink on the cavern floor.

Then silence.

And a darkness that swallowed me whole …

I OPENED
MY
EYES
to loud shouts in my ear. Startled, I realized I was standing up.

Nicky was shouting for me to wake up. He and Tara had me by the arms. They were walking me away, guiding me up the path.

My feet slid in the mud. I blinked my eyes and gazed around in confusion.

“Mom?”

“Dad?”

“No, it's us,” Tara said. “Snap out of it, Max.”

“But my mom and dad—” I choked out. “They were here. They told me to go to sleep and—”

“You must have been dreaming,” Tara said. “Nicky and I popped back just in time.”

I gazed up toward the cavern entrance. No bright lights. No Mom and Dad.

The dream had been so real, so terrifying.

“Wh-what happened?” I stammered. “Did Inkweed—?”

“We came back just in time,” Nicky said. “We dragged you to your feet before Inkweed could get out.”

“Sorry we left you here,” Nicky said. “Sometimes we disappear. We can't control it.”

“Are you okay?” Tara asked, helping me over a jagged rock.

I stopped.

“No,” I said. “How could I be okay? We're in terrible trouble. Coming here didn't work. It didn't work at all.”

Up ahead, I saw the gray of the sky. I could feel the damp, cold air fall away as we approached the entrance. “Inkweed is still inside me. I can feel him.”

“Hang on, Max,” Tara said as we stepped out through the cavern entrance. “Hang on.”

Trees shivered all around in a strong breeze. Cool, dry air. I took several deep breaths. It smelled so good and clean.

“We'll figure this out. I know we will,” Tara said.

Her voice trembled. I could hear how frightened she was now.

We had tried and failed. And we all knew I couldn't stay awake much longer.

As we walked, I tried to figure out how many hours I'd been awake. But my brain was too fuzzy to do the math.

Close to seventy hours. That was the best I could figure.

I kept walking with them. But I couldn't really feel my legs. It was as if they were moving on their own.

The trees spun around me. The ground tilted one way, then the other.

How long did we walk?

I don't know. It was a long walk home.

We were on a block with little houses hidden behind hedges and thick clumps of trees. Suddenly, Nicky and Tara stopped. Their grip tightened on my arms. They stared at the steeply sloping hill across the street.

“What's wrong?” I whispered.

“Look,” Nicky said. “The library.”

I squinted hard, trying to force my eyes to focus. “Library?”

“Mr. Park's library,” Tara said. “Where we got the old book.”

“The lights are on,” Nicky said. “Do you think Mr. Park is awake?”

“If he isn't, we'll wake him up,” Tara said. She pulled hard, dragging me up the sloping front yard. “He has to help us. Max, you'll tell him what we
did tonight. The darkest place on the darkest night. You'll tell him it didn't work.”

We stepped up to the little house. The lights were on in the front room.

Nicky pushed the doorbell. “He'll know what to do,” he said. “He'll help us. I know he will.”

NICKY
PUSHED
THE
BELL
again. I saw a shadow move in the front window.

The front door opened a crack. Someone peeked out.

“Hi, it's me,” I said.

A chain slid off the door. The door opened wider, and I saw the storyteller's daughter, Sumner Park, squinting out at me. She wore a long purple bathrobe. Her hair was tied back.

“You're the boy who was here the other day?” she said.

I nodded. “Max Doyle. I need—”

“Max, what are you doing here in the middle of the night?” she asked. Of course, she couldn't see Nicky and Tara.

She stepped aside so I could come in. “It's nearly three in the morning. Do your parents know where you are?”

“Don't waste time answering her questions, Max,” Tara said. “Tell her to wake up her dad.”

“Okay,” I said. “I'll do it.”

“Do what?” Ms. Park asked.

“I need to see your dad,” I said. “It's very important.”

She studied me. “Look at your shoes. You're covered with mud. And you look so tired, Max. Something's wrong, isn't it. Let me call your parents.”

She reached for the phone on her desk.

Tara grabbed it away.

Ms. Park gasped. “That phone! It's floating in midair!”

“I … uh … heard the phone bills are going
up!”
I said. “Guess it's true.”

I grabbed the phone from Tara. “I don't want you to call my parents,” I said to the librarian. “I just need to see your father.”

“I'm sorry,” Ms. Park said. “He's asleep. I should be asleep too. But I was busy arranging books, and I lost track of the time.”

“We'll wake him,” Tara said. She and Nicky went running to the stairs.

“No! You can't!” I shouted to them.

“Can't what? Max, you're not making any sense,” Ms. Park said. “I really think we should call—”

“It—it's an emergency!” I stammered.

I ran after Nicky and Tara and followed them up the stairs.

“Hey! Come back!” Ms. Park shouted. “You
can't go up there! Come back here! Tell me what this is about! Come back here!”

I was halfway up the stairs. She came chasing after me, shouting for me to stop.

I reached the landing and followed Nicky and Tara down the hall. I was gasping for air by the time we stopped at Mr. Park's bedroom. The door was shut. I grabbed the knob and turned it.

“Stop right there,” Ms. Park said sharply. “You can't go in, Max. My dad locks his door at night. No way are you going in.”

I sighed. “The door is locked?”

She nodded. “And he's a very sound sleeper.”

With a sad sigh, I turned to Nicky and Tara.
“Now
what are we going to do?”

“WHO
ARE
YOU
TALKING
to?” Ms. Park asked.

I stared at the locked bedroom door.

Tara tapped me on the shoulder. “Max, did you forget Nicky and I are ghosts?”

Before I could answer, the two of them floated right through the door, into Mr. Park's bedroom.

“Let's go downstairs, Max,” Ms. Park said sternly. “I think you're in some kind of trouble. Come downstairs, and we can call your parents.”

“I
am
in trouble,” I told her. “But I think your dad can help me.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” she said. “I can't wake him up.”

But we heard the lock snap on the other side of the door. And Mr. Park's bedroom door swung open.

“Come in, Max. Hurry,” Tara said, pulling me through the doorway.

We ran to Mr. Park's bed. He was asleep on his back, the covers pulled up to his chin.

“How did you do that? How did you unlock
the door?” Sumner Park came running into the room after us. “You can't wake him,” she said. “He sleeps so soundly.”

“We'll wake him,” Tara said. “Nicky. Hurry. Start tickling.”

They pulled down the blankets, tugged up his red pajama shirt, and started tickling his ribs.

It only took a few seconds. Mr. Park started wiggling and squirming. And then he woke up, laughing.

“Dad!” Ms. Park cried in surprise. “What's so funny?”

He scratched at the curly white hair on top of his head. “Must have been having a funny dream.” Then he saw me. “You? What are
you
doing here?”

“It's an emergency,” I said. “I'm sorry to wake you. Really. But I really need your help.”

Blinking himself awake, he pulled himself up. “My help?” He looked over my shoulder at his daughter. “Sumner, what is the problem here? How did he get in here? The door was locked.”

Ms. Park shrugged. “I don't know, Dad. He was determined to see you.”

He squinted at me with his bright blue eyes. “Max, right?”

“Yes,” I said. “I—”

“What is the problem, Max?”

“It's about Inkweed,” I said. “I didn't tell you
the whole truth the other day. You see, Inkweed is inside me.”

He made a gulping sound. He scratched his head again.

“I did what you said,” I told him, speaking breathlessly. “I went to a dark cavern. Tonight. A night when there is no moon.”

He kept squinting at me. He looked as if he didn't understand what I was telling him.

“Don't you see? The darkest place on the darkest night? That's where you told me to go. But it didn't work, Mr. Park. It didn't work at all.”

Mr. Park turned his body and lowered his feet to the floor. “Max, you wanted
real
advice?” he asked.

“Yes. Of course,” I said. “I tried what you told me, but—”

“That was just a story,” Mr. Park said.

My breath caught in my throat. “Huh?”

“It was just a story I made up,” Mr. Park said. “It wasn't supposed to be real advice. The darkest place on the darkest night? I just made that up.”

“I told you,” his daughter said. “My dad is a storyteller. He makes up stories.”

Mr. Park nodded. “I made up that story on the spot. I thought you enjoyed it.”

“It—it wasn't real?” I gasped. I still couldn't believe it.

“Inkweed isn't real,” Mr. Park said. “Inkweed
is a legend. A myth. A ghost story, like all the others.”

“But—but—” I sputtered.

“There's no one like Dad,” Ms. Park said. “He makes up the wildest stories. He can make up dozens of them in an afternoon. You should come hear him perform sometime, Max.”

“Uh … yeah,” I muttered.

I knew I couldn't convince them of the truth. I knew I couldn't convince them that Inkweed was real. And I was too tired to try.

“Come back sometime, Max, and I'll tell you some more Inkweed stories,” Mr. Park said.

“Maybe I'll tell YOU some stories next time,” I murmured.

If there's a next time.

NICKY
AND
TARA
DRAGGED
me home. I don't know how they did it. My legs wouldn't work at all. And I kept saying, “It wasn't real? It wasn't real?” again and again.

They carried me through the back door, into the kitchen. Tara flashed on a light. I dropped into a chair at the table, nearly unconscious.

“I'm sorry, guys,” I croaked. “I … I can't stay awake another minute. I … I'm so sorry.”

“Max, you've got to try!” Tara said. She held my head up off the kitchen table with both hands. “Try, Max. Give Nicky and me a chance to think up a new plan.”

“No new plan,” I muttered. The room spun in front of me. My head felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds. “No new plan. We lose. Inkweed wins. We lose. Lose. …”

My eyes started to close.

Tara held on to my head. “Open your eyes, Max. Come on. You can do it.” She turned to
Nicky. “Turn on the TV. Maybe that will keep him awake.”

“We lose,” I murmured. “We lose.”

I was out of my mind. I didn't know
what
I was saying.

Nicky clicked on the TV on the kitchen counter. I squinted across the room. I couldn't get my tired, burning eyes to focus.

It took me a while to
realize
I was watching a toilet paper commercial.

A woman was rubbing toilet paper against her face, saying how soft it was.

I watched her for a few seconds. Then I struggled to my feet.

“Nicky! Tara!” I cried. “We can do it. We can destroy Inkweed!”

THEY
GAPED
AT
ME
, their eyes wide. “We
can?”
Tara said.

“Toilet paper,” I said. “Colin said Dad bought three cases of it. Hurry. Go down to the basement. Bring up a case.”

They hesitated for a moment. Then they took off, shooting right through the basement door without opening it.

I pinched my cheeks hard while I waited for them to return. Pinched myself until it hurt. Anything to stay awake.

Finally, they returned, carrying a big plastic package filled with toilet paper rolls. “Open it,” I said. “Hurry. I can't hold on much longer.”

“Okay, it's open,” Tara said. She had a roll of the white paper in each hand. “Now what, Max?”

“Now I go to sleep,” I said. I put my head on the table and shut my eyes. “Good night, everyone.”

I fell asleep in two seconds. Maybe faster. A deep sleep with no dreams.

Nicky and Tara told me later that as soon as I was asleep, Inkweed started to pour out.

Ink seeped out through my skin. Came oozing out in all his inky blackness, through my arms, my neck, my face, through my nose and mouth.

They stood watching in horror as the inky creature poured silently from my body. The ink formed a steaming black puddle on the floor beside my chair.

When it had all oozed out, it slowly slid off the floor. It raised itself onto the wall—and formed a man's shadowy figure.