The Land of the Dead: Book Four of the Oz Chronicles (14 page)

I was confident no one was in the basement. Gordy wouldn’t choose to seclude himself down there. As if I was about to face a firing squad, I slowly made my way down to the main floor with Kimball and stopped in front of the staircase that led down to the basement.

The gray man was down there. He was waiting for me. This was probably his plan all along. Separate us and lure us all down to the basement where he could eat us one by one.

This thought ran through my head as I took the first step and then tumbled all the way down the stairs. I landed with a thud on the floor and heard the sound of metal on metal… like someone was sharpening knives. When I attempted to stand, the world began to spin. I flopped on my back and watched my world turn black.

***

“Detective King,” the stout older man said. “Chief Inspector, actually. Manhattan.”

The man was introducing himself to a young dark-haired uniformed police officer. “Seen your picture in the paper, Detective King. I’m Officer Roland, Perry Roland.”

I was in a police station witnessing the scene like a ghost, just like I always did in The Land of the Dead. The dead boy and I sat on a bench watching the two men talk.

Detective King turned his hat in his hand as he talked. His face was serious and worn. My grandfather would say that he looked as though he was in a never-ending state of unsettled.

“I appreciate you coming all the way to Staten Island, sir,” Officer Roland said.

King cleared his throat. “Following every lead I can on this thing. The Budds have become like family to me.”

“Yeah, well I know this could be a stretch, but…” The younger officer looked almost embarrassed. “A boy went missing here in ’24. Francis McDonnell was his name.”

“I remember. I assisted the dental records when they found the body,” Detective King said. “You think it has something to do with the Budd case?”

“Not me, sir,” the officer said. “The boy’s father… he works at this precinct.”

“The boy’s father is a police officer?” The hardened detective looked like he had just been punched in the stomach.

“Yes, sir, and he won’t give up on the idea. He’s convinced your Mr. Howard is the same man who took his boy.”

“I see,” Detective King said in a way that indicated he was highly skeptical. His face said even more. He thought the father was desperate to find answers and grasping at straws.

“The description does match your suspect,” Officer Roland said. “Older gentleman, mustache, thin.”

“If I remember right, you were looking for a foreigner in this case.”

“Yes, sir. Witness saw the boy with a man speaking in a foreign language. Italian, she thought, but she didn’t know for sure.”

King pursed his lips and picked at some lint on his hat. “Our man’s a red-blooded American. No accent, nothing to indicate he’s a foreigner.”

“I know.” The police officer pulled out a small notepad and handed it to Detective King. “I copied this from the case file.”

Detective King read what was written on the notepad. “What’s this?”

“That’s what the witness said she overheard the man saying.”

“And?”

“It’s not Italian.”

“So, she guessed wrong. It’s Spanish or German or French or some other language. You should take it to a linguist. Still doesn’t have anything to do with the Budd case.”

“I did take it to a linguist.”

“Good,” the detective said putting his hat back on. He was clearly through with this dead end.

“It’s not any language.”

“Then the witness heard it wrong.”

“Maybe,” the police officer said. “But this professor I talked to thought it was something else.”

“Which is?”

“He thinks the woman overheard our suspect speaking in tongues.”

Detective King pushed his hat up and cocked his left eyebrow. “Tongues?”

“Yeah, it’s when real religious folks get worked up and start talking in a language that doesn’t exist… well, on Earth anyway.”

The older detective nodded slowly. “For one who speaks in a tongue does not speak to men but to God; for no one understands, but in
his
spirit he speaks mysteries.”

“Sir?”

“From the Bible, Officer Perry. First Corinthians.” Detective King was barely participating in the conversation now. He had a faraway look in his eyes. I could almost hear the gears turning in his head.

“Anyway,” Officer Perry said. “I got to thinking that you don’t have to be a foreigner to speak in tongues. You just got to be super religious. The boy’s father might be onto something if that’s the case. Your guy be could our guy, too.”

Detective King slowly got out of his head and turned to the younger police officer. “He certainly could, Officer Roland. But I’m afraid that isn’t necessarily good news.”

The officer looked at the detective perplexed. “Why not, sir?”

“Because if you’re right, I am definitely looking for a man who has a history of abducting children. I have a sinking feeling there are many more fathers out there like our fellow officer.”

The detective and the uniformed officer shared a few more bits of information before King shook Roland’s hand and exited the building. The dead boy and I followed him down the street.

“Any time you want to clue me in on how this Land of the Dead thing works, feel free,” I said to my dead companion.

I felt my stomach sink and turn. The young police officer passed through me in a dead sprint.

“Detective King,” the officer called out.

The grizzled old cop turned in his direction.

“One last thing,” the officer said as he reached the detective.

“I’m listening.”

“Your suspect stopped at a newsstand and picked up a package, right?”

The detective nodded. “The newsy said it was a box wrapped in canvas. Howard left it with him before he went to visit the Budds and picked it up with Grace in tow an hour later. Why?”

“Our witness said our suspect had something under his arm. She called it a package, but then changed her mind.”

Detective King shut his eyes momentarily and then let out a sigh. “Called it a package? What do you mean?”

The young officer hesitated as if he didn’t want to answer the detective’s question, but he finally relented. “She called it a package at first, but changed her statement later. The man was dressed like a housepainter, so she assumed it was a small drop cloth folded up and tucked under his arm.”

“I see,” Detective King said. “But you think it was a package like she originally stated.”

Officer Roland shook his head. “It’s just an awfully big coincidence, that’s all.”

King squinted his eyes against the afternoon sun. “Yes, it is, Officer Roland. Yes, it is.” The detective got a faraway look in his eyes again.

“What are you thinking, Detective?”

Detective King cleared his throat and said, “I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

“What a terrible day it will be when I find out what’s in that package.”

DAY 4

FIFTEEN

I came to groggy and angry at the bottom of the stairs. I had been to the Land of the Dead three times, and I wasn’t any closer to knowing what was going on.

Kimball licked my face as I tried to gather my thoughts. I patted him and gently pushed him away. “I appreciate it, boy, but your breath stinks.”

I stood up and worked out the kink in my back. I was getting tired of falling down stairs. It would be nice if my dead pals would put in a door to the Land of the Dead.

My back cracked and popped and I almost felt free of pain. I may have even smiled when I took my first step in a long time without involuntarily groaning. I reached out and placed my hand on the wall. It was cold and rough. It was stone. A stone wall. That’s when it hit me. I was in the basement. My mind was in such a haze, I had forgotten where I was headed before my last trip to the Land of the Dead.

It suddenly became difficult for me to breathe. I turned and considered going back up the stairs, but stopped myself as I rested my foot on the first step. I couldn’t turn back. Another day had passed. I didn’t have time to be scared. “Don’t be such a pansy, Griffin,” I said. I leaned my head back and yelled, “Get ready, Albert, because I’m coming in!” It was his turn to be a ghost in my world.

Kimball led the way as we moved quickly to the Halloween room. I stood in the doorway and dashed the flashlight from side to side. I was about to enter feeling relatively sure that there was no one in there, when a shadow seemed to move just outside the limits of the beam of light. I stopped, hesitating before I moved the light back in the shadowy figure’s direction. There are some things you’re just not sure you want to see. The shadow was gone, but there was something standing in its place… or someone, I should say. I didn’t move. I just stared at the cowering figure. He was trembling, but still managed to smile. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He was chubbier than I remember him. Kimball approached him with his tail wagging, and the boy who shouldn’t have been there reached down and happily patted him on the head.

“I always liked your dog,” the boy said.

I gasped at hearing his voice. I could feel the corners of my eyes getting wet. “Stevie?”

***

It seemed as if I stood in the doorway for days without moving, but in reality it was just a few minutes. Seeing Stevie standing there, petting my dog, squinting against the beam of my flashlight, made every hair on my body stand on end. I lost track of time, of myself. Guilt, anger, utter happiness, terror, every emotion you can imagine hit me like bullets from a machine gun.

When I finally moved, it felt like I was walking through syrup. My feet seemed to stick to the floor, and I had to struggle to take each step. I went over a million things to say to him, but all of it seemed stupid. What do you say to the boy you tortured and shamed because he was “slow?” How do you take away the crap you put him through… the crap that led him to take his own life? I’m sorry? That doesn’t seem right. I stopped three feet from him and stared at him. He shielded his eyes from the light.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and asked the question I already knew the answer to, “Is this my fault?” I fell to my knees. I wanted him to say no. I wanted him to look at me like it was a ridiculous question, like I was the slow one.

“What?”

I examined his face and saw another beam of light moving in from behind him.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be here, boss,” I heard a voice say. It didn’t take me long to identify it as belonging to Gordy.

I switched from trying to see Gordy beyond the blinding light to looking at Stevie’s face.

“Oz?” Gordy grumbled.

“What,” I said as I stood.

“I thought we were supposed to separate.”

I was locked on Stevie. “We are.”

“This ain’t separate, boss man.” Gordy dropped the beam of light from my face.

“Didn’t know you were down here,” I said. “You didn’t answer your radio.”

Kimball growled, but I didn’t pay much attention to it.

“How…” I started, but didn’t know how to finish. “Stevie?”

“That?” Gordy giggled. “It’s something, ain’t it?”

Kimball’s growl got louder, but still I didn’t notice.

“Not sure why it came out that way,” Gordy said.

“Came out that way?”

“Yeah,” he said moving closer. “Them Throwaways are freaky.”

The air around me suddenly felt lighter. “Throwaway,” I said out loud, but to myself. “He’s your Throwaway.”

Kimball barked. I shined the light on him. His hackles were up, and he was staring holes in Gordy. I moved the light from Kimball to Gordy, and saw what had my loyal dog aggravated. Gordy was holding an eight inch hunting knife. Before I could tell him to put it down, he leapt for me. I scrambled back, letting go of the flashlight, the beam of light bounced around the room. I heard Gordy land on the concrete floor with a painful crack. He grunted as if he’d had the wind knocked out of him.

Kimball barked and growled. I could hear the tap, tap, tap of his nails on the floor as he rushed Gordy, who still had the knife. I was sure of it because I hadn’t heard the clank of the steel blade hitting the floor.

“Get away from me,” Gordy squeaked. He was still trying to catch his breath.

I heard Kimball’s jaws snap shut, and Gordy let out a terrifying yelp.

“Kimball, stop,” I said crawling on my hands and knees to the flashlight. When I placed my hand on it, I heard a swish followed by terrible whine. It was Kimball. I picked up the flashlight and twirled it around the room in the general direction of the commotion. Kimball bared his teeth, but he was moving awkwardly.

Gordy struggled to get to his feet. “You shouldn’t have come down here, boss. I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to do it.”

“What did you do?” My light glistened off the blade of his knife, and I saw the blood.

“He bit me,” Gordy insisted. “What was I supposed to do?”

Kimball was panting heavily now.

“You stabbed Kimball?”

He shook his head. “No, I swear. I just swatted it at him, and I cut him. He’s going to be okay. He’s going to be okay.” Kimball laid down on the floor. “Please be okay, Kimball.”

“Drop the knife,” I said.

“No way, I need it.”

“You don’t need it.”

“I need it,” he yelled. “How else am I going to slice the meat off your bones!”

I should have been creeped out by what he said, but I understood it. Part of me… most of me…wanted the knife so I could do the same to him.

Kimball’s whining grew more intense.

“We gotta think this through, Gordy. We don’t want to eat each other. Not really.” I had to hold back a laugh because I really wanted to eat him, and I just sounded ridiculous denying it. “The gray man, he’s the one that’s doing this to us.”

Gordy snickered. “The old man ain’t so bad, boss man. He’s kind of crazy and babbles on and on, but he kind of reminds me of my grandfather.”

“You’ve talked to him?”

“Can’t hardly call it talking, but we’ve spent some time together.”

Throwaway Stevie knelt down beside Kimball and gently stroked his side.

“You shouldn’t do that,” I said to Gordy.

“Got no choice. He lives in this friggin’ basement. The rest of you jerks have taken over the rest of the house. I got nowhere else to go. It’s just me and the old man down here. He’s harmless, if you want to know the truth. Just talks endlessly about finding his property.”

“His property? What property?”

“Got no idea. All he says is it’s his, and he needs it. Someone took it from him. ‘Had no right to take it,’ he says. ‘I need the little bits. Can’t have the little bits without my property.’ It’s all he goes on about.”

“Your dog needs a band aid,” Throwaway Stevie said holding up a bloodstained hand.

I shot Gordy a death glare. I could feel tell-tale signs of the Délon marking rising up inside of me. My blood began to run cold. So cold it burned. I bit my lip and clenched my fists tightly. I couldn’t let it take me over. Not now. “If Kimball dies, I swear to you, I will rip you apart and tear the meat from your bones with my bare hands. I won’t even need that knife. Do you hear me?”

He looked at Kimball and then back at me. “Yeah.”

“Good. Now, let’s say we compromise. Give the knife to Stevie.”

“That’s not really Stevie…”

“You know what I mean,” I barked. “Give your Throwaway the knife.”

He wasn’t happy about the compromise. His eyes darted back and forth from the knife to me. His brain couldn’t comprehend not rushing me and just driving the knife into my heart. I just had to hope that there was enough of the Gordy I knew still left in that thick skull of his. Just as I thought there was no way he would do it, he motioned for Throwaway Stevie to take the knife.

Once Stevie had it, I rushed to Kimball’s side and examined his wound. He was bleeding pretty badly, but it wasn’t as bad as it looked. Gordy had caught him with the blade at the top of his right leg. I wiggled out of my backpack and took out a spare t-shirt to make a bandage.

“Is he okay?” Gordy asked.

I nodded. “Lucky for you, he’ll be fine.”

***

I sat at the head of a lane of the small bowling alley while Gordy positioned himself by the pins. We kept our flashlights on, but kept them out of each other’s faces. Kimball lay at my feet and panted heavily. I gave him what water I had left, but it didn’t seem to be enough. I radioed Lou and asked her to send Ajax down with strict instructions that she not come anywhere near the bowling alley. I couldn’t look after Kimball and a;sp do whatever it was I needed to do to get us safely out of the mansion and on our way. It was up to my old gorilla friend now to look after both my dog and my… Lou.

“Don’t think we’re going to make it out of this one, boss,” Gordy said. His voice echoed through the large room.

“Yes we are, and stop calling me boss,” I answered chasing his echo.

“Feels different,” he said.

“How so?”

There was a moment of silence. “I don’t want to win this one so much.”

“You don’t mean that.”

He laughed. “If you ain’t the boss, you can’t tell me how I feel.”

“You want to go back home as much as any of us.”

“Thought I did, but if you think about it, what am I going back to? My daddy’s a mean old drunk. My mom works eighteen hours a day. I spend most of my time trying to avoid getting in trouble for something I didn’t do or did without much of a cover up plan. I’m pretty much just as scared back in the real world as I am here, ‘cept at least here I get to fight what I’m scared of.”

I laughed this time. Not because I thought he was being ridiculous, but because I found myself agreeing with him. We did get to fight back here, and in a lot of ways that made it less scary than it was in the real world. I could see why he didn’t want to win.

“I’m telling you, Oz, the old man ain’t so bad. You should give him a chance.”

I thought about the man I had seen sitting at the Budds’ dining room table. He was sinister. I thought about the man on the roof of the apartment building. He was brutal. Gordy didn’t know the old man like I did. He knew a babbling old fool looking for his property. “Gordy, you need to stay away from the old man.”

“Kind of hard to do when I’m hanging out in his part of the house.”

I cringed. I had forgotten that we were in the basement, the place the old gray man called home. I turned to the door that led to the dressing rooms. “He’s in there, isn’t he?”

“There, here, the other side of the basement. He comes and goes.”

I heard a noise to my left and jumped. Throwaway Stevie stepped out of the darkness and started walking towards Gordy. “Didn’t know Stevie meant that much to you?”

“He doesn’t. Hate the re…” He stopped himself from using the word I hated. “The clown. He started all this.”

“We started it,” I said. “You know that. Besides you just said you didn’t mind it so much.”

I could see him tilt his head from side to side. “What do you know? Maybe I don’t hate him so much. Anyway, I don’t know why my Throwaway came out like this. I was concentrating on a swimsuit model I seen in one of my dad’s magazines once.”

“Sounds about right,” I laughed. “But I don’t think it works that way. Somewhere in that empty head of yours, you feel something strong for Stevie.”

He waved me off. “I feel nothing for that mush mouth. He did nothing but bug the snot out of me. No matter how bad I treated that idiot, he just kept on coming back for more. Treated me like I was his best friend.”

“Me, too.”

“He was just too stupid to get lost.”

I shook my head. “That’s not it.”

“What then?”

“He saw the magic in us.”

I heard a hoot-bark as Ajax entered from the Halloween room. I stood and turned to him. A silhouette of a girl stood in the doorway. A quick pan of my flashlight revealed Lou.