Tales from the Haunted Mansion Vol. 1: The Fearsome Foursome (11 page)

This was exactly the kind of thing that always happened when Noah’s mom went away on business. She was in some foreign country where they mostly spoke French. Very possibly France. He knew that because for the last two months, her
Learn French Fast
CD was the only thing coming out of the car speakers.
Parlez-vous français?

Le
nope.

That meant Noah would be stuck in the house with Philip and his ill-tempered poodle, Dots. Philip was Noah’s stepfather, and before you go jumping ahead of yourself, yes, it’s true: the uncaring stepparent is a common literary trope. A total cliché. Well, here’s another total cliché for you:
Clichés are clichés for a reason.
And Philip fit the description of the uncaring stepfather to a tee.

Philip was a legend in his own mind, often rambling nonstop about his days in the service, the places he’d been, the things he’d seen, as if this automatically made him a hero. Perhaps he was a hero to that dang dog, but as Noah could tell you, Philip was anything but a hero to
him
. Certainly never hero enough to throw a ball around on a sad summer day. Or read a story before bedtime, like real fathers do.

Good night, moon. Good night, Dad.

Break out the tissues, dear reader. For Master Noah’s story starts as a sad one. But do not despair: those same tears will soon be running red….

Noah’s real dad had died when he was a lot younger. Like toddler young. But not young enough for Noah to forget him. Noah Gilman Sr. was his dad’s name, which is why Noah’s mom sometimes referred to him as Junior. A decorated firefighter, Noah’s dad had died helping others, something a real hero often does but seldom talks about. All that remained were the pictures and articles to prove it—and a gold plaque proudly displayed over Noah’s bed.

Some of Noah’s earliest memories were shrouded in fog, but he could still hear his dad’s laugh and still picture him doing his long out-of-date dance moves in the den with Mom.

Philip never danced with Mom.

Mostly Noah remembered the day he received that plaque. It was the same day he was told his dad wouldn’t be coming home again. Not ever.

So now that we’ve cheered you up, let’s get back to the saga of the unswimmable swimming pool.

The pool had come with the house. And the house itself had come with Philip and his dog. It was all part of the deal, one predicated on Philip’s marrying Mom. With the summer season just around the corner, Philip demanded Noah get the pool in shape under the false pretense that it provided a healthy alternative to sitting around reading horror stories. Noah had to admit his weight had become an issue. He had gotten good at ignoring the remarks made at school, but ignoring them doesn’t mean you don’t hear them. Besides, he had no choice. With Mom away, his stepfather was in charge.

“Laps,” said Philip.

“Laps,” repeated Noah, having no idea what that meant.

Philip explained that doing laps was the ultimate exercise. Better than going to a gym. “Once the pool’s up and running, that flab will be a thing of the past.” Philip patted Noah’s belly. The remark might have hurt, had Noah really cared what his stepfather thought. And the funny part was Philip was sporting an above-average gut himself. The day Noah made the mistake of pointing it out, Philip impatiently explained that with middle age came girth.

So each day, starting at dawn, Noah headed to the yard armed with a mop, an old toothbrush, and an assortment of cleaning products for the start of what would surely prove to be the worst summer ever.

Bedtime was the only time Noah looked forward to. Bedtime was
his
time. He had a treasure trove of fantasy and wonder stashed under his bed. There was a carton containing his real father’s collection of vintage horror comics, with titles like
They’re Coming to Eat You
and
They Ate You Before They Left
.

Noah carefully removed each issue from its protective slip, reliving every garish tale, even the ones he knew by heart, as if it was the first time he’d ever laid eyes on it. If we’re being honest, Noah even borrowed a few of the plotlines for the Fearsome Foursome. A personal favorite involved a miserable stepfather eaten by his stepchildren, who also happened to be werewolves. He must have read that one twenty times!

But that night, as he was leafing past the merchandise section, a particular advertisement caught Noah’s eye. Now, if you’ve never seen one of these old horror comics, they’re loaded with unusual things you can order by mail. Stuff like Venus flytraps—living plants that munch on insects. And X-ray glasses. And buzzers that stay hidden in your palm for a surprise handshake. But the one that had him salivating the most featured an illustration of an ancient sea creature, all tentacles and eyes. The ad claimed it belonged to a species that existed before the time of the dinosaurs. Noah didn’t really believe all that. The ads always said those sorts of things to get you to buy stuff.

THEY’RE REAL! THEY’RE ALIVE! JUST ADD WATER AND WATCH THEM GROW!
Pretty awesome. All you had to do was mail a check or money order for $2.95 to the Eldritch Company. Noah’s heart started racing when he first saw the order form. It had already been filled out…in his name! But how could…

Noah soon realized it was
also
his father’s name.
Uh-duh!
His dad must have planned on ordering sea creatures back when he was a kid. What had stopped him? Maybe he was short the $2.95. Or maybe he had no clue what a money order was, just like Noah. One thing was certain: the order form had never been mailed.

Noah got to thinking: wouldn’t it be something if he could place the same order today? The Eldritch Company. Did it still exist? And would it continue to offer sea creatures in its back catalog of dreadful delights? Noah pictured a giant warehouse filled with man-eating plants, fake vampire blood, monster masks, and, yes, huge tanks overflowing with nearly extinct monstrosities.

Maybe it was the time of night. Or the fumes from the unswimmable swimming pool. But Noah decided it was worth a shot. Using his calculus calculator, which Noah was amazed to find had an actual purpose outside of third-period math, he adjusted the price for inflation, stuffed his dad’s original order form into an envelope, and sent it off to the Eldritch Company by snail mail, appropriately enough.

Later that night, Noah dreamed. He dreamed of his father. But when he woke up, there were no real details to cling to. Only a feeling. Like something bad was about to go down.

The next two weeks passed like molasses. Noah felt every second of every minute of every hour. By then, he was nearing the final stages. He had already gone to Pools 4 Fools and picked up the chemicals. Now for the fun part: filling the pool with water. Noah secured the garden hose and twisted the faucet, the initial wave blasting across the lining like the birth of a new ocean. If all went according to plan, by the next day he’d be doing cannonballs…um, laps.

But the next day was a long way off.

The sliding door whipped open and out zipped Dots. The dang dog would have been bad enough, but Noah knew only too well, where there was Dots, there was Philip.

A second later, out pranced the general, waving a receipt like it was a losing lottery ticket. “What is this? What is this?” Noah instantly recognized it as the receipt from Pools 4 Fools. So he responded: “It’s the receipt from Pools 4 Fools.”

“Why?”

Noah wasn’t sure he understood the question, but as Philip demanded well-thought-out explanations, he gave one a shot. “Uhhh…because they give out receipts when you buy something?”

Philip’s face turned beet red before graduating to eggplant purple. Even Dots stopped yapping, anticipating what the next vegetable might be. “Says here you bought chemicals. Pool supplies! Chlorine! Shock treatment! With my money!”

“I-I-I thought—”

Philip cut him off mid-sentence. “You thought? You
thought
? Well, you thought wrong, cheesecake! Chlorine went out with the furry dinosaur! These days, healthy pools require salt water. Every idiot knows that!” He leaned in, nose to nose with Noah. “Repeat after me: salt water, salt water, salt water!”

“Salt water,” said Noah, adding the word
taffy
under his breath.

Apparently, salt was the new foo-foo alternative for unswimmable swimming pools, something the part-time dude at Pools 4 Fools had neglected to mention.

“You do know what tomorrow is, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir, the Fourth of July.”

“And what’s the Fourth of July, cheesecake?”

Noah wondered if that wasn’t a trick question. “I’m going with…Independence Day?” He saluted an imaginary flag.

Philip saluted, too, but that wasn’t the response he was looking for. “It’s also the unofficial official start of summer. I promised Dots we’d be the first to try out the pool.” Noah’s heart sank. The indignity. Philip never ceased to amaze him. But there was more. Philip always had more. “I picked up matching swimming trunks.” He held up matching suits—one for him, one for Dots. “Adorable, no?”

Noah was about to vomit.

Philip trotted back to the house. “Make sure that salt gets in there, pronto. We’re counting on you, cheesecake. Dots and me.” Dots leaped dutifully into Philip’s arms and they returned to the air-conditioned house, sealing the sliding glass door—heaven forbid some cool air sneak its way over to Noah.

Disheartened but not surprised, Noah wheelbarrowed the chemicals into a toolshed in the back. So Philip would be joining Dots for the official first swim of the season. In a pool
Noah
had suffered to make swimmable. Typical. But what were his options?

Noah returned to the pool store to purchase everything required for a saltwater pool. And by late afternoon, the unswimmable swimming pool was up and running.

Noah was hot and exhausted. He had sunburn on his sunburn and more bug bites on his legs than his calculus calculator could calculate. He moped to the front yard in a direct path to the sprinkler, where he planned to soak for about three days.

And that’s when he spotted it.

An oversize manila envelope was leaning against the front door. He leaped from the sprinkler and snatched it up, then tore off to his room, dripping wet. It was addressed to Noah Gilman Sr. and the return label said
THE ELDRITCH COMPANY
.

Noah locked his door. There could be no interruptions. This was big! He slit open the seal with his dad’s penknife without noticing the antiquated postmark. It was dated twenty years earlier.

A small pouch marked
ONE
slid out onto the bed. It read
LIVE EGGS
. Whatever it was, it felt like granulated sugar. Noah shoved his hand inside the mailer, feeling around for pouch
two
—the one that supposedly contained the “secret growthing serum,” all of which sounded very mad scientist–like to Noah.

A folded slip of paper, yellowed with age, floated onto the bed. Noah hoped it would include some cool pictures instead of just words. All he got was the illustration from the ad. Underneath, it read
Welcome to the Ancient Past! To a Time Before Dinosaurs! To a World Dominated by Sea Creatures!

Noah skimmed the directions.

Pour contents of pouch one
into clear water. Stir gently. Live sea creature will hatch. Add secret growthing serum. Watch hatchling grow!
At the very bottom of the page there was a warning, emboldened in what used to be red:
DO NOT USE SALT WATER!

All Noah needed was a tank to grow it in. He remembered seeing an old fishbowl in the shed. He jumped up to go grab it, whipping open the door.

Philip was standing in the hall, hands on his hips, wearing look number one. By then, Noah had identified the three looks of Phil. One: angry. Two: gravely disappointed. Three: buffet-style hungry.

“Who traipsed water through my living room? I found footprints leading to your room. Explain!” This opening salvo indeed seemed to support look number one.

Noah thought about lying, but that was never his way. Instead, he answered with the truth. He’d forgotten to dry off after running through the sprinkler.

“Thanks for being honest.” That went easy. But Philip had more. He always had more. “By the way, your mother called.”

Noah’s face lit up. “Mom? When?”

“Hmmm. I
honestly
forgot to tell you. Think about that. Think about it when you’re mopping up that mess you made.” Philip did an about-face, and Noah could almost see the gaping grin through the back of his skull as he walked away. Dots lingered an extra moment, adding a snarky yap before scurrying after her master.

Noah stood there, steaming. A full-blown tantrum was in order, but he knew it would only worsen his situation. He opened his window for some air. And from there, he saw the glimmering, glassy reflection of the pool. Crystal clear, kudos to him…as if it actually mattered. All those days of hard work he’d never get back, and for what? There had to be something he could do. He wasn’t a spiteful person, but hadn’t Noah earned a little payback? He thought about the sea creatures. The warning about the salt water. And in that moment, Noah decided to do what you were already thinking he would.

You’ve got an evil little mind, don’t you? My compliments.

He couldn’t risk trying anything in the daytime. He would have to wait until after dark.

And that’s precisely what he did.

Noah sneaked into the yard like he was on a stealth ninja mission, careful not to make a sound, lest Philip or his yapping sidekick wake up and foil his plans. He tiptoed to the side of the pool and was ready to begin the task when…a light flickered on!

Noah closed his eyes. Busted! Slowly, he pivoted to face…

no one.

It was a mounted floodlight, tripped by a motion sensor. Noah continued the mission, now with the aid of some serendipitous mood lighting. He tore open pouch one, licking his lips as he imagined what it might do. Probably turn what was left of Philip’s hair Willa blue. And he’d deserve it, too. He deserved whatever he got.