The Hanging Hill (9 page)

36

Zack and Meghan stood mesmerized by what they saw shimmering on the far wall.

“Cool,” said Meghan.

“Yeah,” Zack agreed.

It was a young girl and boy, both wearing costumes that sort of made them look like that sailor on the front of a Cracker Jack box.

Both juggling fruit.

“They’re pretty good,” whispered Zack. He didn’t recognize the boy, but the girl sure looked familiar. She was the one he and Meghan had seen juggling in the stairwell. Only, she wasn’t.

“She’s not real,” said Zack.

“That’s her,” said Meghan.

“Yeah. Only it’s not
really
her. She’s—I don’t know—too flat.” Zack held a finger to his lips. “Hear it?”

“Yeah,” said Meghan.

The faint whir of a movie projector.

Zack took a top hat off a Styrofoam head and blew away the dust rimming its brim. Soon tiny flecks were sparkling in the movie projector’s narrow funnel of light.

Zipper made his way to where the beacon disappeared through the costumes hanging on a wardrobe rack, and Zack thought about that scene in
The Wizard of Oz
where Toto pulls open the curtains to reveal the humbug pretending to be a wizard. Today it was Zipper’s turn. He chomped into a gown and yanked it sideways.

Meghan lunged at the rack with a rubber-tipped tomahawk, another prop from another show.

“Hiyah!” She attacked the empty clothes. “Hiyah!”

“Meghan?”

“Nothing,” she reported. “Nobody.”

Zack peered through the opening and saw an unattended movie projector unspooling a reel of film.

“Somebody set this up,” he said. “Hung that sheet against the wall to make a movie screen.”

“Why?”

Zack shrugged. “Maybe they like old juggler movies.”

“Yeah, you don’t see many of those at the multiplex anymore.”

All of a sudden, they heard the sharp
swick-swickswick
of a swishing sword.

“‘A hit, a very palpable hit!’”

Zipper dropped to his belly, assumed his pounce position.

Zack and Meghan pushed apart the costumes and peered out at a dashing young man in tights, a tunic, and what looked like balloon-legged shorts. He was flicking his rapier back and forth, fencing with an unseen enemy.

“‘Another hit; what say you?’ ‘A touch, a touch, I do confess!’”

“That’s the swordfight scene from
Hamlet,”
Meghan whispered. “He’s doing all the parts!”

The guy was fit and trim, with long dark hair that swept back over the puffy shoulders of his costume. He waggled his blade with one hand while the other remained heroically cocked at his hip. Zack figured he must’ve been a leading man or a movie star. Maybe both.

“‘O villainy!’ Ho!” He clutched his chest. “‘Thou hast slain me!’” He staggered forward. “‘Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant ne’er taste of death but once.’” He dropped to his knees. “I … am … done … for.”

And then he vanished

“He’s a ghost,” said Zack. “A
real
one!”

“He’s also a ham,” said Meghan. “I’ve never seen anybody chew that much scenery in one bite.”

“Help!”

“That’s Derek!” said Zack.

“Help! It’s a giant! A giant monster!”

Zack and Meghan looked at each other.

“Cool!”

They’d track down the missing projectionist later. Right now they had to go rescue Derek Stone from some sort of Giant Monster!

No wonder Kimble didn’t want kids in the basement. It was more fun than Disney World!

37

“You bolted the doors?” Hakeem asked his two associates.

They nodded.

“The janitor?”

“Working elsewhere.”

Hakeem now turned to Grimes. “When is your next scheduled performance?”

“This afternoon. Three p.m.”

“Good. We have time. Several hours.”

“For what?”

“Your audition, Exalted One. Please. Let us form a circle.”

The three Tunisian men held hands.

Great
, Grimes thought,
they want me to play ring-around-the-rosy. Right here at center stage. On the darkened set of Dracula’s castle
.

“Please, Exalted One. Take our hands. Form a circle with us around this lamp. We must be positioned over the portal.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Grimes reached out with his right hand and clutched the extended left hand of the giant named Badir.

While he did, Hakeem reached over and took hold of Grimes’s left. Elevated his crippled arm. The pain washed up through the shoulder socket, then drifted away.

“Tighten the circle, gentlemen,” Hakeem said, and the four men shuffled closer to the ghost light. The caged bulb was exceedingly bright. At least five hundred watts. Grimes feared it might fry a permanent dot onto his retina.

“Tell me, Exalted One,” said Hakeem, “have you ever sensed that you might possess the power to bring back the spirit of one long since departed? To summon forth the souls of the dead?”

Grimes shook his head. Answered honestly. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Think hard.”

“No. I never …”

Jinx!

The cat. Yesterday. Had he brought back the spirit of his long-dead friend simply by wishing for it?

“My cat,” he whispered. “Maybe.”

The other men sighed and nodded.

“This is good,” said Hakeem. “Very good. You might, indeed, be blessed with your grandfather’s gifts.”

Hearing that caused Grimes to stand a little taller, his chest to swell. “Well, I suppose it’s possible. Maybe a little.”

“We shall see. Badir? Anoint the ground!”

The big man broke the circle so he could reach into a pouch he carried slung over his shoulder. He started to sprinkle dirt at their feet.

“What’s that?” Grimes asked.

“Earth. From a graveyard. Jamal?”

Now Jamal let go of the hands he was holding and produced a cloth sack.

“Eat!” he said, presenting Grimes with a stale slice of black bread.

Grimes ate. It was dry and tasteless.

“Drink!” Out came a small corked vial containing purple liquid.

“What is it?” Grimes asked.

“Unfermented grape juice,” answered Hakeem.

Grimes drank. The juice was sour. Needed sugar.

Now Jamal unwrapped a sheet of butcher paper from around a slab of gray meat resembling jerky.

“Am I to eat this as well?” Grimes asked.

“Yes,” said Hakeem. “It is the final course.”

Grimes took the meat from Jamal. “What is the meaning behind all this?”

“These are all food items associated with the underworld. The realm of the dead.”

Grimes nodded. Chewed on the tough, stringy meat.

“Unleavened black bread!” Hakeem declared. “With out yeast, it is lifeless and black like the shroud of death. Grape juice! To honor Dionysus, the Greek god of the vine. One of the few ancient deities able to ferry dead souls up from the underworld!”

Grimes nodded. The symbolism made sense. “And this final course? The meat?”

“To pay patronage to Hecate, goddess of sorcery, you must eat her favored earthly animal. You must eat flesh from the corpse of a dead dog!”

He wished he hadn’t asked.

38

Meghan, Zack, and Zipper backtracked, made their way up the dimly lit maze of corridors.

Zipper barked.

“Lead the way, Zip!”

The dog took off.

“See, Zack?” said Meghan. “I told you we’d have an adventure down here!”

“We should’ve brought a flashlight!”

“What about that? That magic fairy wand or whatever. Maybe the star lights up.” She pulled the prop wand out of its bin. “There’s a switch on the handle.” She flipped it back and forth. Nothing happened. “Batteries must be dead.”

“Whack it on the bottom a couple times. It’s how I get my flashlight to work at home.”

Meghan whacked it.

The sparkling star glowed.

“Help!” Derek’s voice was weaker now.

“Hang on!” shouted Zack.

“We’re coming!” added Meghan.

They rounded a final corner and raced down a steep ramp that switched back a couple of times before it entered a storage vault at least fifty feet tall and wide.

“So, the basement has a basement!” said Meghan. “It’s probably where they store the
huge
set pieces. Then they use a freight elevator or something to hoist stuff up to the stage.”

“Zack!” Derek whimpered. “Tell your dog to stop licking me!”

Meghan swung her wand light to the right.

Derek was cowering on the cement floor, trying to cover up with his elbows so Zipper couldn’t slobber all over his face.

Zack stared up at the giant creature that had terrified Derek.

“Wow!”

It had to be at least twelve feet tall. A gargantuan brass statue of a man who had the head of a bull. Mr. Bull Head was seated on a throne with his hands held out in front of him, palms up, like he was waiting for someone to toss him a basketball.

“I couldn’t see where I was going and bumped into that thing!” Derek explained. “When I looked up …”

“You screamed like a baby,” said Meghan. “Don’t worry. I would’ve done the same thing.”

“Yeah. Me too,” said Zack. “This guy’s got some nasty nostrils.”

All three of them studied the colossus.

“I wonder what show they used it in,” said Meghan.

“Was there ever a
Bulls?”
asked Derek. “You know, like
Cats?”

“I don’t think so,” said Meghan. “It’s so huge! It looks like it might be from an opera.”

Zack heard someone sobbing.

From the look on her face, he could tell that Meghan heard it, too.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked.

“Someone’s crying,” said Zack.

Derek looked at them both like they were crazy. “What? Where?”

Meghan and Zack both held a finger up to their lips, urged Derek to keep quiet.

He stayed where he was.

They crept around the brass man’s big sandaled feet. Zipper padded along after them

Whatever was behind the statue wouldn’t stop weeping.

39

The four men stood holding hands in a circle around the ghost light at center stage.

Grimes wished he had a toothbrush. He still tasted the canine carcass.

“Repeat after me,” Hakeem instructed.
“Ego sum te peto et videre queo!”

“That’s Latin.”

“Of course.”

“Well, what does it mean?”

“Did you not read
The Book of Ba’al?”

Grimes hesitated. “I skimmed some sections.”

“So I feared.
Ego sum te peto et videre queo:
I seek you and demand to see you.”

“I seek you and demand to see you.”

“In Latin, please.”

“Ego sum te peto et videre queo.”

“Louder.”

“Ego sum te peto et videre queo!”

“Again!”

“Whose spirit are we summoning?”

“Let us start at the top of your grandfather’s list. Mad Dog Murphy.”

“Who’s he?”

“Convicted bank robber. Murderer. Died in the electric chair in 1959.”

“What do we want with him?”

“Repeat the words.”

“First you tell me why we would want a murdering bank robber!”

“Because he is very good at his job!” said Hakeem. The other two men sniggered. “Repeat the words!”

Grimes felt the warmth of power surging through his body. Jolts of adrenaline rippled up from his hands as he clutched the hands of the two brothers of Hannibal. Who were these people? Why did they make him feel like he could soar through the air like an eagle, commanding all those below? Like his lame arm would somehow grow strong enough to wield a terrible swift sword and fell any who stood in his way?

“Ego sum te peto et videre queo!”
he cried “Mad Dog Murphy! I seek you and demand to see you!”

“Louder!”

“I seek you and demand to see you! Now!”

The bulb atop the ghost light exploded.

Sparks arced up from the exposed filament.

Electricity crackled across the air, igniting a roaring thunderclap. Four lightning bolts collided at center stage with the screech of steel wheels screaming to a stop in a train wreck.

A monstrous man strapped in a wooden chair suddenly materialized in the air. He floated ten feet above the floor, bobbing like a tossed boat on a churning sea.

“Where am I?” the beast in the chair bellowed.

“Are you the spirit of Mad Dog Murphy?” Grimes demanded.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure. Where the blazes am I?”

“Where I summoned you!” answered Grimes, feeling more robust and vital than he had ever felt in his life.

He was his grandfather’s rightful heir.

He was a true necromancer!

40

Zack heard a muffled boom somewhere right above his head.

He figured it must be a summer thunderstorm.

He and Meghan and Zipper continued creeping around the base of the giant brass statue.

They reached the back.

The girl hidden in the darkness continued to sob and moan and weep.

Meghan flicked on her illuminated wand.

A young Native American girl, maybe twelve, stood in the shadows, tears streaming down her face. She wore a fringed buckskin dress decorated with beadwork, and cradled a dozen ears of dried corn tight against her chest.

“Are you a demon?” she asked Zack in a quavering voice.

Zack shook his head.

The girl turned toward Meghan. Shook and sobbed. “Are you a demon?”

“No. I’m Meghan. Meghan McKenna. Who are you?”

The girl couldn’t answer. She convulsed into another spasm of sobs.

“What’s wrong?” asked Zack. “Does something hurt? Are you in pain?”

The weeping girl nodded. As she did, her head seemed sort of loose and rubbery on her neck.

Zack glanced down at the floor. The girl was standing in the center of an area squared off by the stumps of four rough beams. Maybe sawed-off support posts from an old foundation. Wormy six-by-sixes.

Now he heard footsteps.

“Hey … who are you guys talking to back here?” It was Derek.

“My father curses this ground!” the girl cried out. It was hard to understand what she was saying, because she kept sobbing the whole time she talked. “I did not steal this corn! We gave you demons the seed; how could we steal that which we gave you?”

Zack wished he knew the answer, but he didn’t, so he gave the ghost a pleading shrug. Meghan did the same thing.

Zipper sank to the floor and whimpered.

The girl wailed the most mournful cry Zack had ever heard in his life, worse than a million funerals all mixed together.

Then she and her corn crumbled into powdery dust and disappeared.

“Wow,” said Meghan.

“Yeah,” said Zack.

“We have to find out who she was.”

“Who
who
was?” asked Derek. He was staring at Zack, Meghan, and even Zipper as if all three were deranged.

“The girl,” said Zack.

“What girl?”

“In the buckskin dress?” said Meghan.

“She was just here,” said Zack.

“When?”

“Two seconds ago,” said Meghan.

“Ha-ha. Very funny. Can we go back upstairs now?”

Zack and Meghan looked at each other and realized Derek Stone couldn’t see ghosts!