After Dark (18 page)

“Run!” is all I heard as I skidded around the back corner of the building and started down the alley toward Church Street. I was hoping they'd give up the chase when I got out into the open, where the normal folks in town were wandering around doing normal things. I was passing the stairs that led up to the
Daily News
office when Hamish Frog and Officer Lennox appeared behind me. Somewhere in the craziest part of my mind, I thought this would make a great photo op for Jimmy, and I actually let out a maniacal giggle as I sprinted along. My mind was whirling. Getting hunted down like this, in the middle of the afternoon in a small town, was so utterly unreal that I felt my grip on reality slipping away. It was like an enormous Hawaiian wave was crashing over me and pushing me under the water. I glanced over my shoulder again and saw Creed with Lennox and the mannequins. Even the undercover grandpas were in on the chase. They weren't quitting, but they
were
slipping farther behind.

I got to within ten feet of the mouth of the alley, and thought I might actually reach Church Street, when the Man-Bear appeared smack in front of me. He was bulging out of a gray suit, wearing a pair of aviator sunglasses and a ridiculous-looking straw hat. He had a bandage above his eye where I'd hit him with Miles's camera last night. I didn't have a camera today, but it suddenly occurred to me that I
did
have a hot cup of coffee. I'd been planning to use it on Lennox, but this was no time to play favorites, so I hurled it at Man-Bear. The lid popped off when it hit his chin and the steaming black coffee went splashing over his face. Man-Bear didn't scream, but he reeled backward, clutching his face, and staggered across the sidewalk.

I enjoyed about a half second of triumph, but Sheriff Dutton and Baxter stepped into the space that Man-Bear had vacated. I gave out a war cry of rage, mixed with absolute terror, and threw myself at them. At the last instant, Dutton pulled out a stun gun. It was too late for me to stop, and I practically fell onto the electric prods he was holding out toward me.

My body stiffened, and I fell to the ground. I only seized up for about five seconds, but that was enough time for Baxter and the Frog Café mob to pin me down. I was still reeling from the pain of the shock when Dutton pulled my wrists behind me and slapped on a pair of handcuffs.

Then I was hoisted up and carried over to Dutton's cruiser, which was parked beside Miles's minicycle. There were still a few non-sunglasses-wearing folks out on Church Street, craning their necks to see what was going on, but the black clouds were practically right over us now, and it looked like most of the sensible citizens of Rolling Hills had gone home to escape the rain.

When we reached the cruiser, Dutton opened the door and the people carrying me shoved me inside. Miles Van Helsing was slumped against the opposite window of the cruiser, unconscious.

“This will help,” I heard a familiar voice say, and I turned just in time to see Dr. Creed jab my shoulder with a needle. I pulled away, but it was too late, she'd already injected whatever had been in the syringe into my arm.

“That will help,” she said. Behind her I could see Man-Bear staring at me, his face blank but scalded a deep red.

“I'm not a dog,” I said, but the words already sounded far away. The cruiser door slammed shut, and everything went murky. I looked over at Miles. A little bit of drool was hanging off his lower lip. Then I went to sleep, too.

Sunday, ?:?? p.m.

I was having a terrible dream. Johnny was standing in front of me, big vampire fangs jutting out of his mouth, yelling, “Charlie, wake up!” Then he slapped my face. Then he yelled, “Charlie, wake up!” I knew he was going to slap me again — I could see his hand coming, but my arms were so heavy, I couldn't do anything to stop him. Slap!

“Charlie, wake up!” he said again, but this time someone else's voice was coming out of his mouth.

“Don't hit me,” I mumbled, but he slapped me again anyway.

“Charlie,” the voice said, “wake up!”

It sounded like the voice was coming from behind me now, so in my dream I turned around, and that's when my eyes opened a crack. Miles Van Helsing's face was looking down at me.

“Miles?” I said, trying to remember what was going on. “Were you just hitting me?”

“It was more like a gentle tap,” he said.

“Where am I?” I asked, sitting up.

“In jail,” Miles said, although, now that I was awake and looking around, I didn't really need him to answer. We were in a small jail cell, the kind you see on TV all the time where the perps are held while they wait for their lawyers. There was a wall of bars along the front, and the rest of the place was painted a drab gray. I was sitting in the middle of the floor with Miles kneeling beside me. Behind him, a wooden bench ran along the wall.

“These are the holding cells in the basement of the Rolling Hills police station.”

“How'd they catch you?” I asked.

“After we split up, I tried to make it back to my house. It's only half a mile from the Baxters', an easy run. I've got some security cameras set up outside, for day-to-day surveillance purposes, and I was hoping I could catch Baxter chasing me. It wouldn't be as significant as the material we caught on film last night, but I thought it might add to the evidence we've already compiled.”

“But he ran you down?”

“No, I lost him pretty quickly, but Dutton and Mrs. Baxter were waiting for me at home. They were talking to my mother in the living room.”

“What?”

“Mrs. Baxter had told her that I'd been harassing them. Dutton said he wanted to have a chat with me back at the station, just to make sure I didn't get into the same kind of trouble as last summer.”

“What did you do last summer?”

“There was some paranormal activity in the area. I may have gotten a little carried away, but it's all water under the bridge.”

“Your mom actually let them take you away?”

“Other than the fact that they never removed their sunglasses, they were acting normal — which is immensely worrying, Charlie. It means they'll be capable of moving around among us without arousing suspicion.”

“But your mom just let them haul you away?”

“Like I said, last summer I may have gotten a little too fanatical,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “I didn't want to upset her again, so I went along quietly, thinking I'd be able to slip away at some point. Unfortunately, I hadn't counted on them planning ahead. Dutton stopped at Dr. Creed's house on Maple and picked her up, along with Igor Balic. Balic and Dutton held me still while she administered some kind of tranquilizer.”

“She did the same to me,” I said.

“But at least you got the pictures to Mr. King at the paper,” Miles said. “That gives us a shred of hope, anyway.”

“Actually, Mr. King's been sick.”

“You didn't talk to Jimmy Brooks, did you?”

I nodded.

“Crud! He's never forgiven me for the night we spent out in the woods!” he said, standing up. “What kind of idiot spends the night in the woods without mosquito repellant?”

“It's hard to be prepared for everything, Miles,” I said. “But even if Jimmy put the pictures in the paper, what are people supposed to think about a skull with a thornbush growing out of it?” I said, standing up, too. “I mean, what is that thing anyway?”

“How should I know?” Miles exclaimed, throwing his arms up. “It might be a plant, an animal, a fungus, a brain-eating parasite …”

“A brain-eating parasite?”

“Have you ever heard of neurocysticercosis? It's spread when people eat pork that's been handled by someone with human feces on their hands.”

“Stop, Miles. You're making me hungry.”

“It's no joke, Charlie!” Miles said, running his hands through his hair again. “Basically, it's the larva of a tapeworm that gets into your brain and lives inside a cyst, feeding on your cerebral cortex. Millions of people are infected all over the world. Or how about
Naegleria fowleri
?”

“I don't think I need to hear about that one.”

“Technically, it's an amoeba, not a parasite. It lives in lakes and rivers and gets into your body through your nose. Then, it gradually makes its way into your brain, where it starts eating the neurons in your frontal lobe, which controls reasoning and emotions. You usually die within a week.”

“Don't you think people would know about a thornbush infection that turns people into fang-sprouting monsters? I mean, wouldn't there be a health warning?”

“Not necessarily. We're discovering new species of plants and animals and new viruses and parasites all the time. Not that long ago, a prehistoric cave in the Middle East was cracked open and a whole slew of —” he started, but stopped suddenly. “Did you hear that?” he asked, stepping over to the bars.

I followed him over and listened. “Hear what?” I said — and then I heard it. Raspy breaths.

“Hello?” Miles called. “Hello, is someone there?”

There was a hallway, lit by flickering fluorescent lights, in front of our cell that stretched to our left and right.

“Hello!” I shouted. “Is anyone there?”

“Easy, Charlie,” Miles muttered, looking up at the ceil-ing. “We don't want to bring anyone down to check on us.”

“Over here,” a hoarse voice called.

I jammed my face as far as it would go through the bars and looked to our left. A tattooed arm was sticking out into the hallway and waving.

“Is that you, Cory?” I asked. “Cory Frog?”

“It's me,” he said. “Who are you?”

“The guy you tried to help escape from the café.”

“They caught you,” he groaned. “That's a bummer.”

“Afraid so,” I said. “Hey, how'd you know what was happening, anyway? Everyone else in town seems oblivious.”

“When I got to work this morning, my brother was acting kind of off, you know? He said he had a bad headache, so I let it slide, but by lunch I was fed up and told him I was going to get the doctor. That's when those three guys who were sitting in the back stalked in and started ordering drinks. Every time I tried to leave, they ordered something else. A couple of times I tried to sneak out the back, but Hamish kept getting in the way. After a few hours of that, I was feeling kind of trapped and ready to make a break for it myself, but I didn't want to leave Hamish behind. That's when you came in.”

“I'm Charlie, and Miles Van Helsing is over here with me. Thanks for trying. Your plan almost worked.”

“No problem,” Cory croaked. “Do you guys have a plan for getting out of here?”

I scanned our cell. There were no loose-looking bars, no air ducts or grates we could wiggle into and there were no keys hanging on the hallway wall.

“We're locked up tight. I don't suppose you've been secretly digging a tunnel through the wall while we've been talking?” I said to Cory.

Miles let out a growl. “This is no time for your infernal jokes!” he cried, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me. “There's no way out of here! They're up there somewhere and —” The sound of a door opening, somewhere off to our right, cut him off.

“That's not good,” I mumbled.

“No, it's not,” Miles said, letting me go.

Footsteps started down the stairs. By the sound of things, more than one person was coming our way. We backed away from the bars. My heart was pounding.

“If they come in here, attack them and don't let up,” Miles whispered. “Our only chance is to overpower them while the sun's still up.”

“Is the sun still up?” I asked. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Holy Albert Einstein — you're right. I don't know what time it is!” Miles said, his eyes getting wide. “They took my watch.”

“And they took your phone away from me, too,” I said.

The footsteps had reached the bottom, and they were getting closer.

“If it is after dark, and they've changed,” Miles said, “I'll throw myself at them. You make a break for it.”

“We're getting out of this together,” I said, and then Sheriff Dutton appeared, moving like a regular person.

Lennox came next, and behind him was Mr. Baxter. Between them was a wooden crate they were carrying on a stretcher.

“Oh, crud,” Miles groaned, and then Victor Opal strode in behind them all. He was wearing an expensive-looking black suit and had his mirrored sunglasses on.

“I thought,” Opal started, sounding a little winded, “I would show you what we found, Mr. Van Helsing, since you were so interested.”

Lennox and Baxter stopped in front of our cell and lowered the crate to the ground.

“That wasn't necessary,” Miles said, his voice quavering.

“Oh, but it's so fascinating,” Opal said as Baxter pried the top off the crate. “My associate here, Ted Baxter, unearthed it in a place called Oak Island in Nova Scotia. There's a long story about how it got there, but to make a long story short, you just have to understand that the pirates who buried it didn't understand what they were doing. They were robbing the world of something wonderful, and all because of their silly superstitions and old wives' tales about bloodsucking monsters.”

Opal paused while Lennox reached into the crate and pulled out the skull. Lennox gently eased it onto the floor of the hallway, right in front of our cell. It didn't look exactly the same as before, it looked more alive — the branches looked thicker and appeared to be covered in tiny red dots. I had this terrible sinking feeling in my stomach, a nauseous swirling that made me turn away. But as I did, I noticed that Sheriff Dutton was wearing a ring of keys, clipped to his belt.

“Something wonderful?” Miles spat. “Do you think whoever's skull that was thought it was wonderful?”