Night of the Living Dummy (7 page)

18

“That’s right. Close the door,” Mr. Powell said sternly, glaring with narrowed eyes at Kris.

He stood a few inches behind her, arms crossed in front of him, making sure she followed his instructions. She had carefully folded Mr. Wood in half and shoved him to the back of her closet shelf. Now she closed the closet, making sure it was completely shut, as he ordered.

Lindy watched silently from her bed, her expression troubled.

“Does the closet door lock?” Mr. Powell asked.

“No. Not really,” Kris told him, lowering her head.

“Well, that will have to do,” he said. “On Monday, I’m taking him back to the pawn shop. Do not take him out until then.”

“But, Dad—”

He raised a hand to silence her.

“We have to talk about this,” Kris pleaded. “You have to listen to me. What happened tonight—it wasn’t a practical joke. I—”

Her father turned away from her, a scowl on his face. “Kris, I’m sorry. We’ll talk tomorrow. Your mother and I—we’re both too angry and too upset to talk now.”

“But, Dad—”

Ignoring her, he stormed out of the room. She listened to his footsteps, hard and hurried, down the stairs. Then Kris slowly turned to Lindy. “Now do you believe me?”

“I—I don’t know what to believe,” Lindy replied. “It was just so… unbelievably gross.”

“Lindy, I—I—”

“Daddy’s right. Let’s talk tomorrow,” Lindy said. “I’m sure everything will be clearer and calmer tomorrow.”

But Kris couldn’t sleep. She shifted from side to side, uncomfortable, wide awake. She pulled the pillow over her face, held it there for a while, welcoming the soft darkness, then tossed it to the floor.

I’m never going to sleep again, she thought.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the hideous scene in the auditorium once again. She heard the astonished cries of the audience, the kids and their parents. And she heard the cries of shock turn to groans of disgust as the putrid gunk poured out over everyone.

Sickening. So totally sickening.

And everyone blamed her.

My life is ruined, Kris thought. I can never go back there again. I can never go to school. I can never show my face
anywhere.

Ruined. My whole life. Ruined by that stupid dummy.

In the next bed, Lindy snored softly, in a slow, steady rhythm.

Kris turned her eyes to the bedroom window. The curtains hung down over the window, filtering the pale moonlight from outside. Slappy sat in his usual place in the chair in front of the window, bent in two, his head between his knees.

Stupid dummies, Kris thought bitterly. So stupid.

And now my life is ruined.

She glanced at the clock. One-twenty. Outside the window, she heard a low, rumbling sound. A soft whistle of brakes. Probably a large truck going by.

Kris yawned. She closed her eyes and saw the gross green gunk spewing out of Mr. Wood’s mouth.

Will I see that every time I close my eyes? she wondered.

What on earth
was
it? How could everyone blame
me
for something so… so…

The rumbling of the truck faded into the distance.

But then Kris heard another sound. A rustling sound.

A soft footstep.

Someone was moving.

She sucked in her breath and held it, listening hard.

Silence now. Silence so heavy, she could hear the loud thudding of her heart.

Then another soft footstep.

A shadow moved.

The closet door swung open.

Or was it just shadows shifting?

No. Someone was moving. Moving from the open closet. Someone was creeping toward the bedroom door. Creeping so softly, so silently.

Her heart pounding, Kris pulled herself up, trying not to make a sound. Realizing that she’d been holding her breath, she let it out slowly, silently. She took another breath, then sat up.

The shadow moved slowly to the door.

Kris lowered her feet to the floor, staring hard into the darkness, her eyes staying with the silent, moving figure.

What’s happening?
she wondered.

The shadow moved again. She heard a scraping sound, the sound of a sleeve brushing the doorframe.

Kris pushed herself to her feet. Her legs felt shaky as she crept to the door, following the moving shadow.

Out into the hallway. Even darker out here because there were no windows.

Toward the stairway.

The shadow moved more quickly now.

Kris followed, her bare feet moving lightly over the thin carpet.

What’s happening? What’s happening?

She caught up to the shadowy figure on the landing. “Hey!” she called, her voice a tight whisper.

She grabbed the shoulder and turned the figure around.

And stared into the grinning face of Mr. Wood.

19

Mr. Wood blinked, then hissed at her, an ugly sound, a menacing sound. In the darkness of the stairwell, his painted grin became a threatening leer.

In her fright, Kris squeezed the dummy’s shoulder, wrapping her fingers around the harsh fabric of his shirt.

“This—this is impossible!” she whispered.

He blinked again. He giggled. His mouth opened, making his grin grow wider.

He tried to tug out of Kris’ grasp, but she hung on without even realizing she was holding him.

“But—you’re a
dummy!”
she squealed.

He giggled again. “So are you,” he replied. His voice was a deep growl, like the angry snarl of a large dog.

“You can’t walk!” Kris cried, her voice trembling.

The dummy giggled its ugly giggle again.

“You can’t be alive!” Kris exclaimed.

“Let go of me—
now!”
the dummy growled.

Kris held on, tightening her grip. “I’m dreaming,” Kris told herself aloud. “I have to be dreaming.”

“I’m not a dream. I’m a nightmare!” the dummy exclaimed, and tossed back his wooden head, laughing.

Still gripping the shoulder of the shirt, Kris stared through the darkness at the grinning face. The air seemed to grow heavy and hot. She felt as if she couldn’t breathe, as if she were suffocating.

What was that sound?

It took her a while to recognize the strained gasps of her own breathing.

“Let go of me,” the dummy repeated. “Or I’ll throw you down the stairs.” He tried once again to tug out of her grasp.

“No!” Kris insisted, holding tight. “I—I’m putting you back in the closet.”

The dummy laughed, then pushed his painted face close to Kris’ face. “You can’t keep me there.”

“I’m locking you in. I’m locking you in a box. In
something
!” Kris declared, panic clouding her thoughts.

The darkness seemed to descend over her, choking her, weighing her down.

“Let go of me.” The dummy pulled hard.

Kris reached out her other hand and grabbed him around the waist.

“Let go of me,” he snarled in his raspy, deep rumble of a voice. “I’m in charge now. You will listen to me. This is
my
house now.”

He pulled hard.

Kris encircled his waist.

They both fell onto the stairs, rolling down a few steps.

“Let go!” the dummy ordered. He rolled on top of her, his wild eyes glaring into hers.

She pushed him off, tried to pin his arms behind his back.

He was surprisingly strong. He pulled back one arm, then shoved a fist hard into the pit of her stomach.

“Ohhh.” Kris groaned, feeling the breath knocked out of her.

The dummy took advantage of her momentary weakness, and pulled free. Grasping the banister with one hand, he tried to pull himself past her and down the stairs.

But Kris shot out a foot and tripped him.

Still struggling to breathe, she pounced onto his back. Then she pulled him away from the banister and pushed him down hard onto a step.

“Oh!” Kris gasped loudly as the overhead hall light flashed on. She closed her eyes against the sudden harsh intrusion. The dummy struggled to pull out from under her, but she pushed down on his back with all her weight.

“Kris—what on earth—?!” Lindy’s startled voice called down from the top step.

“It’s Mr. Wood!” Kris managed to cry up to her. “He’s…
alive
!” She pushed down hard, sprawled over the dummy, keeping him pinned beneath her.

“Kris—what are you doing?” Lindy demanded. “Are you okay?”

“No!” Kris exclaimed. “I’m not okay! Please—Lindy! Go get Mom and Dad! Mr. Wood—he’s alive!”

“It’s just a dummy!” Lindy called down, taking a few reluctant steps toward her sister. “Get up, Kris! Have you lost your mind?”

“Listen to me!”
Kris shrieked at the top of her lungs. “Get Mom and Dad! Before he escapes!”

But Lindy didn’t move. She stared down at her sister, her long hair falling in tangles about her face, her features twisted in horror. “Get up, Kris,” she urged. “Please—get up. Let’s go back to bed.”

“I’m
telling
you, he’s
alive!”
Kris cried desperately. “You’ve got to believe me, Lindy. You’ve
got
to!”

The dummy lay lifelessly beneath her, his face buried in the carpet, his arms and legs sprawled out to the sides.

“You had a nightmare,” Lindy insisted, climbing down step by step, holding her long nightshirt up above her ankles until she was standing right above Kris. “Come back to bed, Kris. It was just a nightmare. The horrible thing that happened at the concert—it gave you a nightmare, that’s all.”

Gasping for breath, Kris lifted herself up and twisted her head to face her sister. Grabbing the banister with one hand, she raised herself a little.

The instant she lightened up on him, the dummy grabbed the edge of the stair with both hands and pulled himself out from under her. Half-falling, half-crawling, he scrambled down the rest of the stairs.

“No! No! I don’t
believe
it!” Lindy shrieked, seeing the dummy move.

“Go get Mom and Dad!” Kris said. “Hurry!”

Her mouth wide open in shocked disbelief, Lindy turned and headed back up the stairs, screaming for her parents.

Kris dived off the step, thrusting her arms in front of her.

She tackled Mr. Wood from behind, wrapping her arms around his waist.

His head hit the carpet hard as they both crumpled to the floor.

He uttered a low, throaty cry of pain. His eyes closed. He didn’t move.

Dazed, her chest heaving, her entire body trembling, Kris slowly climbed to her feet. She quickly pressed a foot on the dummy’s back to hold him in place.

“Mom and Dad—where
are
you?” she cried aloud. “Hurry.”

The dummy raised its head. He let out an angry growl and started to thrash his arms and legs wildly.

Kris pressed her foot hard against his back.

“Let go!” he growled viciously.

Kris heard voices upstairs.

“Mom? Dad? Down here!” she called up to them.

Both of her parents appeared at the upstairs landing, their faces filled with worry.

“Look!” Kris cried, frantically pointing down to the dummy beneath her foot.

20

“Look at
what
?” Mr. Powell cried, adjusting his pajama top.

Kris pointed down to the dummy under her foot. “He—he’s trying to get away,” she stammered.

But Mr. Wood lay lifeless on his stomach.

“Is this supposed to be a joke?” Mrs. Powell demanded angrily, hands at the waist of her cotton nightgown.

“I don’t get it,” Mr. Powell said, shaking his head.

“Mr. Wood—he ran down the stairs,” Kris said frantically. “He’s been doing everything. He—”

“This isn’t funny,” Mrs. Powell said wearily, running a hand back through her blonde hair. “It isn’t funny at all, Kris. Waking everyone up in the middle of the night.”

“I really think you’ve lost your mind. I’m very worried about you,” Mr. Powell added. “I mean, after what happened at school tonight—”

“Listen to me!” Kris shrieked. She bent down and pulled Mr. Wood up from the floor. Holding him by the shoulders, she shook him hard. “He moves! He runs! He talks! He—he’s
alive
!”

She stopped shaking the dummy and let go. He slumped lifelessly to the floor, falling in an unmoving heap at her feet.

“I think maybe you need to see a doctor,” Mr. Powell said, his face tightening with concern.

“No. I
saw
him, too!” Lindy said, coming to Kris’ aid. “Kris is right. The dummy
did
move.” But then she added, “I mean, I
think
it moved!”

You’re a big help, Lindy, Kris thought, suddenly feeling weak, drained.

“Is this just another stupid prank?” Mrs. Powell asked angrily. “After what happened at school tonight, I’d think that would be enough.”

“But, Mom—” Kris started, staring down at the lifeless heap at her feet.

“Back to bed,” Mrs. Powell ordered. “There’s no school tomorrow. We’ll have plenty of time to discuss punishments for you two.”

“Me?”
Lindy cried, outraged. “What did
I
do?”

“Mom, we’re telling the truth!” Kris insisted.

“I still don’t get the joke,” Mr. Powell said, shaking his head. He turned to his wife. “Were we supposed to believe her or something?”

“Get to bed. Both of you. Now!” their mother snapped. She and their father disappeared from the upstairs landing, heading angrily back down the hall to their room.

Lindy remained, one hand on the top of the banister, staring down regretfully at Kris.

“You believe me, don’t you?” Kris called up to her.

“Yeah. I guess,” Lindy replied doubtfully, lowering her eyes to the dummy at Kris’ feet.

Kris looked down, too. She saw Mr. Wood blink. He started to straighten up.

“Whoa!” She uttered an alarmed cry and grabbed him by the neck. “Lindy—hurry!” she called. “He’s moving again!”

“Wh-what should we do?” Lindy stammered, making her way hesitantly down the stairs.

“I don’t know,” Kris replied as the dummy thrashed his arms and legs against the carpet, trying desperately to free himself from her two-handed grip on his neck. “We’ve got to—”

“There’s
nothing
you can do,” Mr. Wood snarled. “You will be my slaves now. I’m alive once again! Alive!”

“But—how?” Kris demanded, staring at him in disbelief. “I mean, you’re a dummy. How—?”

The dummy snickered.
“You
brought me back to life,” he told her in his raspy voice. “You read the ancient words.”

The ancient words? What was he talking about?

And then Kris remembered. She had read the strange-sounding words from the sheet of paper in the dummy’s shirt pocket.

“I am back, thanks to you,” the dummy growled. “And now you and your sister will serve me.”

As she stared in horror at the grinning dummy, an idea popped into Kris’ mind.

The paper. She had tucked it back into his pocket.

If I read the words again, Kris thought, it will put him back to sleep.

She reached out and grabbed him. He tried to jerk away, but she was too quick.

The folded sheet of yellow paper was in her hand.

“Give me that!” he cried. He swiped at it, but Kris swung it out of his reach.

She unfolded it quickly. And before the dummy could grab the paper out of her hands, she read the strange words aloud:

“Karru marri odonna loma molonu karrano.”