The Conch Shell of Doom (15 page)

“After last night, my confidence in you is shaken. Point the gun at Reggie’s head and pull the trigger. Show me you’re not completely worthless.”

This is beyond humorous. Imagine the look on his face when it’s his time!

“Hey, man, you ain’t got to worry about me,” Reggie pleaded. He tried again to break free from under Mr. Lovell, to no avail.

“Point the gun at his head and pull the trigger,” Mr. Lovell said. “I won’t tell you again.”

“Mr. Lovell, you know I’ll do anything you ask, but not this.” Percy stuck the gun behind his shirt. “I’ve known Reggie forever.”

That’s why it must be done. It’s us or Reggie.

Mr. Lovell took off his hat and leered at Percy, who’d never seen him without it on. The van’s headlights showed off his gnarled, hairless head. The skin was black, blue, and red, with twisted patches that looked like they’d been balled up over time and small craters with purple veins hiding underneath the surface of his deformed skin. Percy bent over and threw up.

“Man, you are all kinds of fucked up,” Reggie said.

How rude. You don’t look
that
bad.

Mr. Lovell put his hat back on. “I’m sure Reggie here would be more than happy to do the same to you.”

“Heck yes! Can I?”

Percy wiped off his mouth and then took the gun in his hand once again. “I got it.”

Mr. Lovell didn’t move away from Reggie. “Then do it.”

Percy moved closer, standing over them. He positioned the gun at Reggie’s head. “Bang.”

Reggie laughed nervously. “You had me going there for a second. Good one.”

It was a good one. But this isn’t a joke.

“I agree,” Mr. Lovell said. “It was very funny. Now, do it for real.”

“Shit. You’re serious? Come on, you don’t got to do this.” Reggie wiggled back and forth, trying again to get free. “You gave me the paper. I’ll just be on my way. Ain’t nobody going to believe a word my ganja-smokin’ ass says.”

Can you understand more than half of what he’s saying?

“It’s called currency or money. Not paper.” Mr. Lovell glanced up at Percy. “Get the satchel out of his trunk. It will give you time to think about your priorities.”

Percy ran to the Cadillac, leaving Reggie alone with Mr. Lovell.
 

“Please, you ain’t got to do this Mr. Lovell,” Reggie said. “I ain’t never let you down.”

“That’s a double negative and actually means you have let me down.”

“When? I did what you wanted, went to Russia and everything for that leg. Me! In Russia!”

“Try not to take it so personally,” Mr. Lovell said. “This isn’t personal. It’s about Percy’s allegiance.”

Well, it’s personal in that we’d both like to see Reggie dead.

Percy strolled back to Mr. Lovell and Reggie. Mr. Lovell saw through it, knowing Percy didn’t want to do the deed.

Of course not. We wouldn’t be forcing him to do this if it were easy. Life is about the tough decisions. I doubt he’s ever made a tough decision in his life.

“Open the satchel,” Mr. Lovell said.

Percy unzipped it. He looked inside and laughed.

“Show Reggie what’s so funny.”

Percy held the satchel upside down. Nothing came out.

“No man, no!” Reggie cried. “You don’t have to play me like this. Just let me go. I won’t tell nobody nothing. I don’t care about the pape—the money. Don’t kill me out here, like I’m a piece of trash.”

But that’s exactly what you are.

Mr. Lovell noticed Percy standing about, wasting time. “We do have a schedule to keep.”

Percy glanced at Mr. Lovell, eyes watering.
Good.
Percy was going through with it. For once in his life, he’d be committing himself to something difficult. Addiction was easy. Falling off the wagon was easy. Murder was anything but.
 

He pulled the hammer back until it locked in place and then aimed the gun at Reggie’s head. It shook in his hand. “I’m sorry man, I’ve got a kid.”
 

“Screw your kid,” Reggie said, his body trembling under Mr. Lovell.

“I can’t let him down.” Percy wrapped his finger around the trigger and squeezed. The shot tore into Reggie’s forehead, killing him.

Look at that. I figured it would take more than one shot. At least he did something right on the first try.

Percy knelt by Reggie, laying a hand his friend’s arm. “I’m sorry.”
 

“Take a moment and then let’s go get the Shell.” Mr. Lovell walked back to the van, leaving Percy alone with Reggie. It was good to know Percy would do what needed to be done, if push came to shove. That might be necessary before the end.

And if not, we’ll just kill him!

Police tape crisscrossed the entrance to the Mooresville Nautical and Oceanic Museum. Mr. Lovell wasn’t sure why the cops had been here. He didn’t call and ask them to come, so something must’ve happened, but what?

Maybe the kids broke in and stole the Shell for themselves. Maybe they dialed 9-1-1. No, if that happened, we would know. It couldn’t be Franklin. He never knew the Shell’s location. No, it had to be the kids. Perhaps we get to kill Percy tonight after all
.

Percy broke out in a cold sweat. “Those kids couldn’t have called the cops on us. No way.”

Mr. Lovell’s cell phone rang. “Officer Jackson. You wouldn’t believe where I’m standing.”

“I meant to call earlier, but after we booked the son of a bitch, damned if he didn’t break my partner’s fingers with a phone.”

Franklin? Is it possible?

Mr. Lovell shot a glance at Percy, who’d taken his hat off. Pacing back and forth, he took out his cigarettes. Mr. Lovell held up a finger. Percy slowly returned the pack to his pocket.

Good. Let him cook in the frying pan a little longer. I’m enjoying this.

“What happened?” Mr. Lovell asked.

“Got a call on dispatch someone broke into the museum,” Jackson said. “One Evan Hightower out of Pennsylvania. We found him in the shell room. Mid-thirties, brown hair, athletic… ring a bell?”

Has to be Franklin. I’d say run the Evan Hightower name, but what’s the point? It will come up empty.

“No,” Mr. Lovell said. “Did he try and steal anything?”
 

“Nope. We were on the scene pretty fast.”

“Good. And good work. Thank you for letting me know.” Mr. Lovell ended the call.

Percy looked to be on the verge of tears. “Was it the kids?”

“No,” Mr. Lovell said.
 

“Oh thank Christ.” Percy
whewed
and bent over, taking deep breaths as he rested his hands on his knees. He put the hat back on his head after he straightened himself. “Who was it?”

“Franklin.”

“How? I never told him.”
 

“Franklin has his ways. Fortunately, mine are better.”

You learned from the best, my friend.

“Where’s the shell exhibit?”

“Third exhibit in,” Percy said. “Can’t miss it.”

Mr. Lovell spun in place, appearing with a
crack
inside the museum. It was dark that time of night, with the lights off and nobody around. He set his phone to flashlight and walked into the first exhibit. Each step creaked from the wood.

In my day, we used actual torches. This way is easier, but not as much fun. I miss torches.

He passed through the first two exhibits without taking in any of the scenery. Only the Shell mattered. His stomach tickled as Trenton became excited. It was close.
 

I can feel it!

The Conch Shell of Doom, for anyone who knew what to look for, stuck out like a sore thumb in the exhibit. It had a shiny, waxy glare the other shells didn’t have. It was a little larger than a normal conch shell. Whiter.
 

Trenton was almost screaming with excitement. Mr. Lovell couldn’t take the tickling. He burst out laughing.

“I can’t do this if you’re going to tickle me like that,” he said.

Sorry.

Mr. Lovell took off his gloves and put the phone in his pocket. Even without light, he could make out the Shell. He picked it up and held it close to Trenton.
 

Amazing. We’ve never made it this far.

“The extra preparation paid off.”

It certainly did.

“It’s time, master,” Mr. Lovell said.

The two of them began chanting in a language never spoken by normal people. It was Aquala, the language of the ocean. To the uninitiated, it sounded like someone making bubble sounds. For the few who knew Aquala, the ritual was obvious. The chanting grew in volume, and the Shell took on a bright glow. Mr. Lovell had to close his eyes. Still, he felt the glow envelop him, a warmth emanating from Trenton, as if he were recharging. That warmth would only get hotter as the Awakening approached.
 

The séance ended, and the Shell’s glow disappeared.
 

I already feel stronger.

“I know,” Mr. Lovell said. “I feel it too.”

Oh, to be back in a body. You’ve never seen me in all my glory.

“Soon.”

Mr. Lovell spun in place, leaving the museum behind as he rejoined Percy. Trenton would only grow stronger until Mr. Lovell’s body couldn’t contain him any longer. He would miss having a constant companion, but that didn’t matter anymore. There was no turning back. The first phase of the Awakening was complete.

Since nobody in the group was twenty-one, or even eighteen, Bailey and his friends didn’t have a lot of places to celebrate. They decided on Seaside Adventureland, a hangout on the edge of Mooresville for families and teens. Bailey remembered reading that the place had been built in the hopes the town would grow beyond it, leaving the pizza joint/poor man’s amusement park in a prime location. The plan hadn’t worked out so far, thanks to the crap economy, but that suited Bailey just fine. Large crowds freaked him out. He’d rather stay at home and watch a movie than be swallowed up by a swarm of people.

Nobody showed interest in miniature golf or racing go-carts, so they went inside for pizza and arcade games. Tim darted for a fighting game within twenty seconds of walking in. Bailey knew Tim wouldn’t stop playing until he ran out of money. Anything to stay in “ninja shape.”

Marshall challenged Bailey to a game of air hockey. They leaned over, facing off as if there were real stakes involved. Marshall set the disc down and slapped it toward Bailey’s goal. He returned the shot and before long was up 2-0. Marshall slammed his paddle on the table.

“This is stupid.” Marshall’s face turned red. “Your side must have better air flow or something. Let’s switch.”

“Why, so you’ll be up 2-0?” Bailey had fallen for that trick before. Never again.

Marshall leaned forward and hit the air hockey disc as hard as he could. Bailey stopped it with his paddle halfway into his goal.
 

“Goal!” Marshall screamed. “You have to let it in!”

“No I don’t.” Bailey moved the disc away from the goal and then tried to angle it past Marshall’s goal. He hit it back, and Bailey was a second too slow to prevent the score.
 

Marshall pumped his fist. “The comeback is
on.
You ready to lose?”

Bailey stared off at the blinking lights of a racing game. Anything to avoid watching Marshall thump his chest for a couple of seconds. “You’re still losing. Check the scoreboard lately?”

Marshall settled down and resumed playing. The one goal seemed to soothe his anger. “So by having that guy arrested, did we, you know, stop everything?”

“I don’t know,” Bailey said. “If this is some kind of crazy conspiracy thing, who knows how deep it goes?”

Marshall scored another point. “Suck it!”

“Classy.” Alexis walked past Bailey, and set some tokens down on the edge of the table. “I’ve got next.”

Bailey glanced over at her. “What do you think?”

“About?”

“Marshall thinks we maybe stopped everything. I’m not so sure. You?”

“I’ve been too busy playing skee-ball to think about it, but I hope so.”

Bailey agreed with her on that point. If there was more to Mr. Lovell, who would be there to stop it? Right then, it only seemed like Bailey and his friends were
le resistance
.

“I do have to say that we were total badasses the way we took that guy down.” Alexis leaned back, hands in her pockets. “Pretty, pretty badass.”

“You? Miss Granger 2.0? Badass?” Marshall laughed. “And we didn’t take anybody down.”

“Hermione’s a badass. Harry and Ron wouldn’t have made it past
Chamber of Secrets
without her. And yes we did.”

“The cops were the badasses,” Marshall scoffed. “They took that dude down. Not us. All we did was watch.”

“By acting on what we saw, we stopped a robbery and maybe a whole lot more.” Bailey leered at Marshall, hoping he’d stop acting like a real dick. Bailey set the disc on the table. “Which is badass. So Alexis is right.”

“Why are you standing up for her? Do you like her?” Marshall returned the shot. Bailey didn’t respond. “We made a phone call. That’s it. The cops went in there, slapped the cuffs on him, and hauled him off to jail.
That’s
badass. At best, we’re Good Samaritans. Or to put it in terms Alexis can understand, we’re like Neville Longbottom and that Luna girl.”

Alexis stuck her finger in her mouth and gagged.
 

Bailey squeezed his air hockey paddle. He knew what Marshall meant, but that didn’t stop him from craving a little validation for doing a good thing. Why did Marshall always have to put down everything? It annoyed Bailey to no end. He slapped the disc off the side of the table and watched it slide past Marshall’s paddle.

“Stopping a robbery
is
badass. Just because it wasn’t your idea, doesn’t mean you have to be a dick about it.” Bailey slid the paddle across the table and stormed outside.

“Yeah, well, you don’t have to be a drama queen about it,” Marshall shouted.

Bailey hadn’t done much with his life. He knew that. Aside from getting decent grades and going to Raleigh every now and then to see some N.C. State Wolfpack football games, he’d lived a pretty boring life. Looking around Seaside Adventure, while all the people his age and younger laughed and played games, it dawned on him how little
everyone
had done with their life. It was maybe the first time he’d ever done something that affected real change. Yes, being so close to a break-in scared the bejesus out of him and amped his anxiety level up to eleven, but putting a stop to it was really freaking awesome. He cursed Marshall for trying to take that away.