The Conch Shell of Doom (33 page)

“I wasn’t calling you that!” Bailey yanked his arm free, then glanced at Tim. “Switch with me.”

Tim’s eyebrows raised. “Seriously? Do you know how awkward that’s going to be with the car moving?”
 

“I don’t care.” Bailey climbed over the seat and fell on Franklin, Julie and Tim. Bailey’s cheek grazed Julie’s breasts, which gave him a rush of excitement. Hopefully, nobody would ask him about it. Things were unnerving enough as it was.

“Get a grip, kid,” Franklin said.
 

Tim got out of his seat. He struggled to climb around Bailey, even stepping on his back at one point. His foot slipped and he fell over, his legs dangling in the air. Marshall and Alexis helped him get right side up. Bailey buckled himself in.

“That was mature,” Franklin said.

“Believe it or not, I got a kick out of the whole thing,” Bartholomew said.

Franklin couldn’t wait for the ride to be over. The kids grated on him all night with their ADHD-riddled yammering, and then they sat in silence, stewing like puffed up blowfish. The SUV was too crowded to handle so much hot air. It almost made him wish they’d start barking at each other again. The silence was broken by Marshall, the big mouth of the group, whose lack of maturity was displayed for all the world to see in his “apology.”

“I didn’t think you’d get your panties all tied up in a knot over this,” Marshall said. “Jeez.”

“It was dickish of you to act the way you did,” Bailey said. “And you know it’s not a lie, so just leave me alone for the rest of the ride.”

“You all really know how to spice things up, don’t you?” Bartholomew cracked.

The only thing that kept Franklin calm was the occasional peek at Julie’s cleavage. Franklin didn’t have the best angle, trying to stare past Bailey out of the corner of his eye, but it was enough to make the immaturity surrounding him bearable.

Forty-five torturous minutes later, they arrived at Julie’s apartment complex. Franklin had to keep himself from crawling over everybody to get outside, where he could get a little breathing room. Once everyone was out of the SUV, the kids collected their weapons from the back. Franklin wanted to run away, but he felt compelled to do one last thing. He walked over to the driver’s door. Sam rolled the window down.

“Thank you for the ride,” he said. “I just felt like saying that. I know they can be a handful.”

Sam smiled, like it wasn’t something that required an apology. “Think nothing of it. Happy to help.”

Bartholomew leaned forward past Sam, so he could see Franklin. “Have fun with that bunch. Something tells me I don’t think you’ll get in too much trouble if they met some sort of tragic end.”

Franklin crossed his fingers. “One can only hope.”

“Okay, let’s go,” Bartholomew said to Sam. “If we don’t get back soon, I’ll have to break my promise not to smoke in your new car.”

“You’re so bad.” The window rolled up, sealing off Sam and Bartholomew from the outside world as the SUV drove away.
 

Bolts of lightning bounced back and forth inside a cloud overhead. A soft bass of thunder hit moments later. Franklin scanned the outline of the cloud, trying not to worry. The cloud mocked Franklin, a reminder that he’d failed to prevent Phase Two of the Awakening.
 

Julie moved next to him, staring up at the cloud. “That’s not good, is it?”

“We better get some rest while we can.”

The kids played around with their weapons, before resuming their shouting match from earlier. Franklin hoped they’d be too tired to keep it up, but no such luck. It was like they ran on batteries.

"I swear, I almost hope we fail tomorrow,” he said. “At least it would shut them up.”

Julie nudged him with her elbow. “You’re bad.”

He winked at her and let his eyes linger on hers. It was a nice moment for Franklin. Julie too, probably. The idea of inviting her for an extended holiday when it was all over seemed like a good idea.

“Look at that thing. It’s the biggest axe I’ve ever seen.” Marshall said.
 

Axe?

And just like that, the moment was ruined. Franklin turned and saw the four teens surrounding Deckland. The Irishman moved in a circle, twirling the axe in his hands, snarling and ready for a fight. The kids stood their ground, but it was obvious they were frightened and didn’t know what to do. Franklin looked down at the ground, shaking his head. Never a dull moment.

“Who wants a go first?” Deckland asked.

“Stay here.” Franklin took the shotgun from Julie and walked over to Deckland, both barrels aimed at the ginger’s head. Franklin locked eyes with Deckland and smirked, eager to reignite their rivalry.

Deckland scrunched his face. “A shotty? That’s not exactly fair.”

“I didn’t know we were playing fair,” Franklin cocked the shotgun. “Either your axe is going on the pavement, or your body is, head first. The choice is yours.”

Deckland tightened his grip on the axe. Franklin hoped the Irishman would make a move. Lunge forward. Sneeze. Blow a kiss. Didn’t matter, provided it ended with his brains flying out the back of the Irishman’s skull.

“Three seconds.” Franklin motioned to kids. “Stand back. You don’t want to get any brains on you.”

Tim
oohed.
“Gnarly.”

Bailey pulled his friend back. Franklin couldn’t figure out why Deckland hadn’t done anything. He just stood in place, like he still wasn’t sure what to do. Granted, the ginger was so stupid, he operated on a five-second delay, but these two had danced together before. He knew better than to think Franklin was bluffing.

“I guess we’ll settle this in the rubber match.” Deckland set the axe on the ground. “You win this round.”

Bailey couldn’t believe someone as massive as Deckland existed. He made the biggest defensive lineman look like a punter. Sitting on the couch in Julie’s apartment, Bailey even told the man as much.

“Try not to blow too much smoke up his ass.” Franklin finished tying the ginger to the built-in AC unit with a steel chain. “It’s steroids.”
 

“Don’t listen to this culchie,” Deckland said. “Big bones run in my family. Bones, beef, and beer built this fine specimen before you.”

Bailey noticed Alexis across the room, her thin legs barely larger than the ones on the coffee table. He hopped up from the couch to join her.

“Can I talk to you?” Bailey whispered to Alexis. “In private?”

“You sure it won’t be too scary for you?” she hissed. “I wouldn’t want to cause you any nightmares.”

“That’s not fair.” Bailey tried to think of a way to explain himself but decided to let the truth potion do it for him. “I wasn’t talking about you when I said that. I know how Marshall and your brother can be, and I didn’t want them giving me a hard time about something that may not even matter. That’s it.”

“You really know how to make a girl feel good about herself.”
 

She marched into the bathroom, leaving Bailey crushed and even more confused. He plopped back down on the couch next to Marshall.

“Problems?”

Bailey sighed. “Shut up.”

“Where’s the ceremony tomorrow?” Franklin asked. “This will go a lot smoother if you cooperate. I know you don’t want me puttin’ a hurt on you in front of these kids.”

Deckland grinned, revealing a set of yellow and brown teeth. Tim and Marshall both groaned and clawed at Bailey, as if he could somehow help.

The sight of those rotted out chompers made Bailey felt sick to his stomach. “You need to see a dentist, or get some dentures, gold teeth, something, because you’ve got the most disgusting teeth I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“If you think that’s bad, why don’t you come a little closer, smell my breath.” The Irishman blew his breath at Bailey and his friends.

Tim and Marshall ran to the other end of the room, leaving Bailey alone on the couch. He caught a whiff of the Black Death coming from Deckland’s mouth. It smelled like a combination of spoiled milk, foot fungus, and sulfur. Bailey pulled his shirt up in the hopes of blocking the stench, but it proved a weak filter. He pinched his nose shut and joined his friends.

“You can kill a rainforest with that breath,” he said, sounding more nasally than usual.

“How can you stand it?” Tim asked Franklin. “Do you have ninja breathing skills? Teach me the way.”

“That’s enough.” Franklin waved Tim off and then turned his focus back to Deckland. “No more pillow talk. The ceremony. Where is it happening?”

“They never told me.” Deckland tried to wiggle free, making the chain jangle.

“Never, huh?” Franklin deadpanned.

“Nope.” The ginger grinned even wider. “I just go where Mr. Lovell tells me to.”

“Julie, do you have any scotch?” Franklin kept his eyes on Deckland, who salivated at the mention of scotch.

“I should,” she said, walking into the kitchen.

“Would you bring me the bottle? Talking to Paddy here is making me a little parched.”

Deckland lurched forward until the chain caught. “You callin’ me a Paddy?”

“Would you rather I call you Sally? I can do that.”

Julie grabbed the scotch from a cupboard and then set it down on the counter. “You want a shot glass?”

“No, just the bottle is fine.”

Bailey watched in amazement. There he was, within arm’s reach of scotch, something he’d never tasted before but always wanted to. Even better, it seemed like Franklin was going to drink straight from the bottle, which was badass. Julie handed Franklin the bottle. He spun the cap off with one hand. It flew onto the floor and rolled under the coffee table.

So cool.

Franklin took a swig. After swallowing, he
ahhed
. “That’s some good stuff right there.”

“Mother’s milk.” Deckland licked his lips.

Franklin held the liquor under the Irishman’s nose, letting the smell sink in. “Want some?”

The Irishman had a suspicious look. “What’s the catch?”
 

“No catch.” Franklin had another sip. “I just don’t like drinking by myself.”

“Aye.” Deckland leaned forward, trying to wrap his lips around the bottle. Before he could, Franklin jerked it away, spilling some on his pants. “You wee bastard!”

“Sorry. I’ve got this tick in my shoulder.”

“I know you don’t like me but don’t take it out on the scotch,” Deckland pouted. “It’s bad form.”

“It does seem a bit unnecessary,” Bailey said. “Especially when it can go to waste on us.”

“You know, you’re right.” Franklin tapped the bottle against his chin, then handed it to Bailey. “Go to town.”

Bailey couldn’t believe it. An adult just gave him liquor. For free! Deckland’s eyes watered at the sight of the drink.

“I’ve never had scotch before,” Bailey said.

Franklin clapped his hands. “First time for everything.”

Bailey took a whiff of the scotch. Its strong, thick aroma made him involuntarily jerk back. Franklin gave him an encouraging nod, providing Bailey the courage to take a sip. The drink burned as it traveled down to his stomach, in a good way. He coughed, making his eyes water. Tim and Marshall were hypnotized by the liquor. Bailey handed it to Tim, who had the same reaction when he took a swallow.
 

The bathroom door opened. Alexis went straight into the bedroom without even glancing Bailey’s way. It nagged at him. He wished the truth potion would give him a way to fix things, but sadly it was a truth potion, not an idea potion.

“They’re amateurs,” Deckland said. “They don’t know how to appreciate fine liquor. That’s almost worse than spilling the stuff.”

Franklin smirked. “Isn’t it? Tell me where the ceremony is and the rest is yours. I’ll even give you a straw to drink out of.”

“Show me the straw first.”

Franklin leaned in close to Julie and whispered something, but Bailey couldn’t hear it. She responded, and went into the kitchen, returning moments later, with a straw. Bailey was a little disappointed. It would’ve been hilarious if they were kidding about the straw.

“Satisfied?” Franklin asked, taking the bottle back from Tim.

Deckland nodded. “They’re havin’ the ceremony at Hunter’s Bay. It’s a private part of the beach, up a ways.”

Franklin turned to Bailey. “Do you know it?”

“It’s where all the town’s bigwigs go.”

“So they don’t have to deal with the tourists,” Marshal said.

Tim rolled his eyes. “You go to Hunter’s Bay.”

“Exactly.”

Bailey handed over the scotch. Franklin put the straw in the bottle, but it was too short and fell all the way in. He stuck his finger inside, trying–and failing–to get it out.
 

Franklin frowned. “Isn’t that a damn shame?”

“Sweet mercy,” Deckland moaned. “Don’t you have two straws you can put together?”

“Nope.” Franklin set the bottle down on a table. “The deal was for one, not two.”

“That’s cold,” Bailey said. “But ingenious.”

“From the mouth of babes.” Deckland leaned forward as far as he could. “Have a heart.”

“A deal’s a deal. It’s not my problem that the straw’s too short.” Franklin picked up a dirty rag off the table and gagged Deckland with it. The ginger tried to scream, but it was no use.

Bailey and his friends watched Franklin have some more scotch, hoping he’d let them finish it off. He
ahhed
and then held the bottle out for them to take. All three of them thanked Franklin and then set about taking turns drinking it. A few sips in, Bailey’s mind wandered over to Alexis, and the idea that there was such a thing as being too honest took hold. He needed to apologize to her.
 

“That’s some good stuff,” Marshall said in between coughs.

Tim tipped the bottle upward, spilling the sweet nectar into his body. Eyes closed, he gave Marshall a thumb’s up. Bailey moved past the two of them and into the bedroom. Alexis sat at the edge of the bed, looking at her phone.

“Hey.” Bailey was walking into a metaphorical minefield, and treaded lightly. With each step, he worried more and more that Alexis might turn into some kind of rage monster and bite his head off.