The Third Evil (3 page)

The cemetery where Corky's sister, Bobbi, was buried.

Where Corky's boyfriend Chip was buried.

Both victims of the evil. The ancient evil that was still alive and refused to die.

“Come on,” Kimmy urged, tugging on the sleeve of Corky's T-shirt.

With a sigh Corky turned away from the cemetery and began walking slowly back along the narrow, cracked sidewalk toward her house. “That was so
disgusting!”
she exclaimed, shaking her head. “All that hot green slime bubbling over everything. I'll
never
eat pea soup again!”

Shadows from the old trees overhead danced on them as they made their way slowly past the graveyard. The air suddenly grew cooler.

“The spirit was warning us,” Kimmy said softly, “telling us that it's still here.” She stopped beside her car and uttered a loud sob. “Oh, Corky—what if it's still inside
me?”

Corky turned quickly, her features tight with fear, and hugged her friend. “It can't be,” she whispered soothingly. “It can't be. It can't be.”

“But how do I
know?”
Kimmy asked, and pulled away from Corky. Her round cheeks were pink and glistening with tears. Her crimped black hair was in disarray. Her dark eyes, locked on Corky, revealed her terror.

“I watched it leave you,” Corky said, trying to calm her friend. “I watched it pour out.”

“I don't remember any of it,” Kimmy admitted. “All of those weeks. That whole part of my life. I don't remember a thing. It's as if I wasn't there.”

“But now you're
you
again,” Corky insisted. “Now you feel like
you,
right?”

Shadows washed over Kimmy's face. Her expression grew thoughtful. “I—I guess,” she replied uncertainly. “Sometimes I don't know. Sometimes I feel crazy. Like I want to scream. Like I want to throw myself on my bed and just cry.”

“But you don't, do you?” Corky demanded.

“No, I don't.” She grabbed Corky's arm. Her hand, Corky felt, was ice cold. “Corky—what if it wants to kill someone else? What if it wants to kill us all?”

“No!” Corky cried with emotion. “No! We'll find it. We'll stop it. Somehow we'll stop it, Kimmy.”

Kimmy nodded but didn't reply.

Corky stared hard at her. She wanted to reassure Kimmy. She wanted to convince Kimmy that the evil spirit no longer possessed her.

As Corky studied her friend's face through the thickening shadows, doubts began to gnaw at her mind.

Would Kimmy know if the evil spirit was still inside her?

If she did know, would she
admit
it?

As Corky stared at her, Kimmy's face began to glow. Her blue eyes lit up as if from some inner light.

Corky shut her eyes.

When she opened them, her friend appeared to be normal again.

“Call you later,” Corky said, and took off on a run up to her house.

*   *   *

“Hi, I'm home!”

Corky closed the front door behind her and stepped into the living room. “Anyone home?”

No reply.

The house smelled good. Corky inhaled deeply. She recognized the aroma of a roasting chicken from the kitchen.

Home, sweet home, she thought, feeling a little cheered.

She turned toward the stairway. A pile of neatly folded clothing lay on the bottom step. Laundry day. Corky stooped to pick up the bundle, then made her way up the stairs to deposit it in her room.

Cradling the freshly laundered clothes in both arms, she stepped into her bedroom. Her eyes went to the windows, where the white curtains were fluttering. Then to the bed.

“No!”

The clothing fell from her arms as she began screaming.

Lying in her bed, tucked under the covers, was the hideous, bloated head of a corpse.

C
orky stood gaping in horror at the lifeless, distorted face. She didn't see the closet door swing open.

“April Fool!” Her little brother Sean leapt out and began laughing uproariously.

“Sean!”

He slapped his knees, then dropped to the floor and began rolling on the carpet, uttering high-pitched, hysterical peals of laughter. “April Fool! April Fool!”

“Sean—you're
not
funny!” Corky cried angrily. She swung her arm, playfully trying to slug him, but he rolled out of her reach, still laughing.

“Stop it!” Corky snapped. “Really, Sean! You're not funny. You're just
dumb.”

Stepping over the clothing she'd dropped, Corky strode over to the bed.

How could I have fallen for this? she asked herself.
The stupid head doesn't even look real. It's all green and lumpy. And it has only one ear!

“Gotcha!” Sean taunted, getting the most from his victory.

“I only pretended to be scared,” Corky told him, turning away from the bed.

“Yeah. Sure,” he exclaimed sarcastically. “I gotcha, Corky!” He climbed to his feet, ran to the bed, and grabbed up the head in two hands. “Think fast!” He heaved it at her.

Corky stumbled backward but caught it.

“Cool, huh?” Sean asked, grinning. “I made it myself. Out of papier-mâché. In art class.”

Corky turned it in her hands, examining it, a frown on her face. “What kind of grade did you get for this mess?” she demanded. “An F?”

“We don't get grades in art, stupid!” Sean replied.

“Don't call me names,” Corky snapped.

“I didn't. I just said you were stupid.”

She tossed the disgusting head back to him. “Watch out. I'm going to pay you back,” she warned playfully. “It's my turn next.”

“Oooh, I'm scared. I'm soooo scared!” he said sarcastically.

She hurried over to him, and before he could escape, reached up with both hands and messed up his blond hair. He punched her hard in the shoulder.

Then they went down to dinner.

That night, with a full moon casting a wash of shimmering, pale blue light into the room, Bobbi floated through Corky's bedroom window.

Corky watched her sister hover over her bed, her long blond hair glowing in the pale light, floating around and above her in slow motion as if underwater.

I'm dreaming, Corky thought.

But Bobbi seemed so real.

So alive.

Bobbi's blue eyes opened wide. She stared down at Corky, her arms undulating slowly as if she were treading water.

She wore a long, loose-fitting gown, like a nightgown, sheer and shimmering in the pale light filtering through the open window.

“Bobbi—what are you doing here?” Corky asked in the dream.

Bobbi's dark lips moved, but no sound came out.

“Bobbi, why do you look so sad?” Corky asked.

Again Bobbi's dark lips moved, dark blue lips reflecting the cold, cold moonlight. Her hair billowed slowly around her head.

Corky sat straight up and reached out toward her sister. But Bobbi floated just out of reach.

“I—I can't touch you,” Corky cried, her voice breaking with emotion. She leaned forward, stretching, reaching as high as she could.

Still Bobbi floated inches away.

The blue light swirled around them now, becoming a whirlwind, silent and cold.

“Bobbi—what do you want?” Corky demanded. “Tell me—
please!”

Bobbi, her lips moving, locked her cold blue eyes on Corky. She seemed intent on telling Corky something.
But Corky couldn't hear her, couldn't read her lips, couldn't understand.

“Why are you here?” Corky pleaded. “What are you trying to tell me?”

Bobbi floated lower toward her sister. The blue light continued to swirl around them, closing them in, shutting out the rest of the room.

“You look so sad, Bobbi. So sad,” Corky said, feeling her breath catch, ready to cry. “Tell me. Please. Tell me why you're here.”

Without warning, without displaying any emotion, Bobbi reached up and grabbed her own hair. She tugged hard. The hair lifted up, removing the top of Bobbi's head with it.

“Oh—
no—!”
Corky shrieked in surprise.

Bobbi remained silent, holding the top of her head by the hair, gesturing with her other hand.

“Bobbi, what are you
doing?”
Corky cried, frozen in place, too horrified to watch, too curious to turn away.

Bobbi bent down and floated even closer.

Closer.

Corky peered up into her sister's open skull.

“What is it, Bobbi? What are you showing me?”

Corky stared inside Bobbi's head. And gasped.

In the darkness the inside of Bobbi's skull appeared to pulsate and throb. But Corky's eyes adjusted quickly to the pale light, and she saw what was moving in there.

Thousands of squirming, crawling cockroaches.

Packed into Bobbi's head like coffee in a can. Their slender legs scrabbled over each other as their bodies bumped and slid in a horrifying silent dance.

“Ohhh.”

Corky woke up, choking.

She struggled to catch her breath.

“Bobbi—?”

Her sister had vanished.

The blue light was gone, replaced by ordinary white moonlight.

Her nightshirt, Corky realized, was drenched with sweat. Her whole body trembled, chilled and hot at the same time.

“What's going on?” she wondered aloud, blinking hard, trying to clear her head. “I haven't dreamed about Bobbi in weeks and weeks.”

She waited for the trembling to stop. Then, deciding to get a glass of water, she lowered her feet to the floor.

And stepped on something warm. Something crackly. Something moving.

“Oh!”

Corky jumped.

Something crunched under her foot.

Something crawled over her toes.

She stared down.

“No! Oh, no!”

Cockroaches.

Thousands of silent cockroaches, scuttling over the floor, over one another. Climbing over her feet. Starting up her legs.

Their bodies glistened dark blue in the moonlight as they swam silently over the floor. An undulating, bobbing, throbbing carpet of cockroaches.

“H
elp me!”

Kicking furiously, trying to force the prickly cockroaches off her feet, Corky stumbled to her door.

“Mom! Dad!
Please!”

With each step she could feel the cockroaches crackle and squash beneath her bare feet. Nausea swept over her.

“Help me!”

Bending to brush the glistening insects off her legs, she burst out of her room into the dark coolness of the narrow hallway.

“Mom! Dad!”

“Hey—what's going on?” Mr. Corcoran appeared down the hall in his bedroom doorway, wearing only pajama bottoms, rubbing his eyes, looking like a bear coming out of hibernation.

“Dad—!”

“Corky, what's the big idea?” He stepped into the hall, stretching his arms above his head with a loud groan.

“Cockroaches!” Corky managed to blurt out, still feeling sick, still feeling the prickly legs crawling up her legs.

“Huh?”

“Cockroaches!”

“Corky, I hope you didn't wake me up because there's a cockroach in your room,” he warned. “This is an old house, and old houses sometimes—”

“What's all the racket?” Mrs. Corcoran interrupted, appearing suddenly behind her husband, brushing her blond hair back off her forehead. “Corky, what on earth—?” She ran to Corky and threw her arms around her. “You're shaking all over. What
is
it, dear?”

Corky tried to answer, but her voice caught in her throat.

She pulled away from her mother and grabbed her hand. Then she tugged her toward her bedroom.

“Cockroaches, Mom,” she finally managed to say.

Her father followed, shaking his head. “That's all she keeps saying. ‘Cockroaches.'”

They followed Corky to her room. “Look,” Corky said. She stepped into the doorway and clicked on the ceiling light. She took a deep breath, trying to hold down the waves of nausea, and pointed to the floor. “Just look.”