03 - Monster Blood (8 page)

The green substance was quivering up over the top.

It’s growing much faster than before, he thought.

I’ve
got
to find something bigger to hide it in—just for tonight.

The bucket was too heavy to carry with one hand. Tucking the flashlight into
his armpit, he gripped the bucket handle with both hands and hoisted the bucket
off the floor.

Struggling to keep from spilling it, he made his way into the dark house. He
paused at the door to the basement steps, silently setting the heavy bucket down
on the linoleum floor.

He clicked the light switch on the wall. Somewhere downstairs a dim light
flickered on, casting a wash of pale yellow light over the concrete floor.

There’s got to be something to put this stuff in down there, Evan thought.
Hoisting up the bucket, he made his way slowly, carefully down the steep, dark
stairway, leaning his shoulder against the wall to steady himself.

Waiting for his eyes to adjust to the pale light, he saw that the basement
was one large room, low-ceilinged and damp. It was cluttered with cartons,
stacks of old newspapers and magazines, and old furniture and appliances covered
in stained, yellowed bed sheets.

Something brushed his face as he stepped away from the stairs.

He uttered a silent cry and, dropping the bucket, raised his hands to swipe
at the thick cobwebs that seemed to reach out for him. They clung to his skin, dry and
scratchy, as he frantically pulled at them.

He suddenly realized it wasn’t the web that was moving against his cheek.

It was a spider.

With a sharp intake of breath, he brushed it away. But even after he saw the
insect scuttle across the floor, he could still feel its prickly feet moving on
his face.

Moving quickly away from the wall, his heart pounding now, his eyes searching
the open wooden shelves hidden in shadow against the far wall, he stumbled over
something on the floor.

“Oh!” He fell headfirst over it, throwing his hands forward to break his
fall.

A human body!

Someone lying there under him!

No.

Calm down, Evan. Calm down, he instructed himself.

He pulled himself shakily to his feet.

It was a dressmaker’s dummy he had stumbled over. Probably a model of Kathryn
when she was younger.

He rolled it out of the way as his eyes searched the shadowy room for a
container to store the Monster Blood. What was that long, low object in front of
the worktable?

Moving closer, he saw that it was an old bathtub, the insides stained and peeling. It’s big enough, he realized, and
quickly decided to store the green gunk inside it.

With a loud groan, he hoisted the bucket onto the side of the old tub. His
stomach muscles were still sore from the punch he had taken, and the pain shot
through his body.

He waited for the aching to fade, then tilted the bucket. The thick green
substance rolled out of the bucket and hit the tub bottom with a sickening soft
plop.

Evan set the bucket aside and stared down at the Monster Blood, watching it
ooze, spreading thickly over the bottom of the bathtub. To his surprise, the tub
appeared nearly half full.

How fast was this stuff growing?!

He was leaning over the tub, about to make his way back upstairs, when he
heard the cat screech.

Startled, he let go of the side of the tub just as Sarabeth leapt onto his
back. Evan didn’t have time to cry out as he toppled forward, over the edge of
the tub and into the thick, green gunk.

Evan landed hard on his elbows, but the thick Monster Blood softened the
fall. He heard the cat screech again and pad away.

He sank into the ooze, his arms and legs flailing, trying to lift himself
away. But the sticky substance was sucking him down, pulling him with surprising
force.

His whole body seemed to be held by it, stuck as if in cement, and now it was
quivering up, bubbling silently, rising up to his face. I’m going to suffocate,
he realized.

It’s trying to choke me.

The warmth of it spread across his body, invaded his chest, his legs, his
throat.

I can’t move.

I’m stuck.

It’s trying to choke me.

No!

He pulled his head up just as the green gunk began to cover his face.

Then he struggled to twist his body, to twist himself around in it. With
great effort, panting loudly, hoarse cries escaping his open lips, he pulled
himself up into a sitting position.

The green substance rose up even higher, as if it were reaching up to him,
reaching to drag him back down into it.

Evan gripped the side of the tub with both hands, held on to it tightly, and
began to force himself up. Up, up from the clinging, pulling ooze. Up from the
strange force that seemed to be drawing him back with renewed power.

Up. Up.

“No!” he managed to scream as the warm, green ooze slid over his shoulders.

“No!”

It was gripping his shoulders now, sliding around his neck, sucking him down,
pulling him back into its sticky depths.

Down. Down.

It’s got me, he realized.

It’s got me now.

“No!” Evan screamed aloud as the green gunk bubbled up to his neck.

Pulling him. Pulling him down.

“No!”

Try again. Up.

Try again.

Up. Up.

Yes!

Gripping the sides of the tub, he was moving upward, pulling himself,
hoisting himself, straining with all of his strength.

Yes! Yes! He was beating it.

He was stronger than it was. One more tug and he would be free.

With a relieved sigh, he dropped over the side of the tub onto the cool
basement floor.

And lay there, pressed against the damp concrete, waiting to catch his
breath.

When he looked up, Sarabeth stood a few feet away, her head cocked to one
side, her yellow eyes peering into his, an expression of supreme satisfaction on her dark feline
face.

The next morning, after a fitful, restless sleep, Evan brought the pad of
yellow lined paper and a marker to the breakfast table.

“Well, well,” Kathryn greeted him, placing a bowl of shredded wheat in front
of him, “you certainly look like something the cat dragged in!” She laughed,
shaking her head.

“Don’t mention
cat
to me,” Evan muttered. He shoved the bowl of cereal
aside and pointed to the pad in his hand.

“Don’t let your cereal get soggy,” Kathryn scolded, reaching to push the bowl
back to him. “You get more of the vitamins that way. And it’s good roughage.”

“I don’t care about your stupid roughage,” Evan said moodily, knowing she
couldn’t hear him. He pointed to the pad again, and then began to write,
scribbling quickly in big, black letters.

His writing caught her interest. She moved around the table and stood behind
him, her eyes on the pad as he wrote his desperate message.

I HAVE A PROBLEM, he wrote. I NEED YOUR HELP. THE BATHTUB DOWNSTAIRS IS
OVERFLOWING WITH GREEN MONSTER BLOOD AND I CAN’T STOP IT.

He put down the marker and held the pad up close to her face.

Looking up at her from the chair, seeing her pale face in the morning
sunlight as she leaned over him in her gray flannel bathrobe, Kathryn suddenly
looked very old to him. Only her eyes, those vibrant, blue eyes running quickly
over his words, seemed youthful and alive.

Her lips were pursed tightly in concentration as she read what he had
written. Then, as Evan stared eagerly up at her, her mouth spread into a wide
smile. She tossed back her head and laughed.

Completely bewildered by her reaction, Evan slid his chair back and jumped
up. She rested a hand on his shoulder and gave him a playful shove.

“Don’t kid an old woman!” she exclaimed, shaking her head. She turned and
headed back to her side of the table. “I thought you were serious. I guess
you’re not like your father at all. He never played any dumb jokes or tricks.
Chicken was always such a serious boy.”

“I don’t care about Chicken!”
Evan shouted, losing control, and tossed
the pad angrily onto the breakfast table.

His aunt burst out laughing. She didn’t seem to notice that Evan was glaring
at her in frustration, his hands tightened into fists at his sides.

“Monster Blood! What an imagination!” She wiped tears of laughter from her
eyes with her fingers. Then suddenly, her expression turned serious. She grabbed
his earlobe and squeezed it.

“I warned you,” she whispered. “I warned you to be careful.”

“Ow!”

When he cried out in pain, she let go of his ear, her eyes glowing like blue
jewels.

I’ve got to get out of here, Evan thought, rubbing his tender earlobe. He
turned and strode quickly from the kitchen and up to his room.

I knew she wouldn’t be any help, he thought bitterly.

She’s just a crazy old lady.

I should pull her down to the basement and
show
her the disgusting
stuff, he thought, angrily tossing the clothes he had worn yesterday onto the
floor.

But what’s the point? She’d probably laugh at that, too.

She isn’t going to help me.

He had only one person he could rely on, he knew.

Andy.

He called her, punching in her number with trembling fingers.

“Hi. You’re right,” he said, not giving her a chance to say anything. “We
have to take the stuff back to the store.”

“
If
we can carry it,” Andy replied, sounding worried. “That hunk of
Monster Blood you gave me—it outgrew the coffee can. I put it in my parents’
ice bucket, but it’s outgrowing that.”

“How about a plastic garbage bag?” Evan suggested. “You know. One of the
really big lawn bags? We can probably carry it in a couple of those.”

“It’s worth a try,” Andy said. “This stuff is so disgusting. It’s making all
these sick noises, and it’s really sticky.”

“Tell me about it,” Evan replied gloomily, remembering the night before. “I
took a
swim
in it.”

“Huh? You can explain later,” she said impatiently. “The toy store opens at
ten, I think. I can meet you on the corner in twenty minutes.”

“Good deal.” Evan hung up the phone and headed to the garage to get a plastic
lawn bag.

Andy showed up with her plastic bag wrapped around the handlebars of her BMX
bike. Once again, Evan had to go along beside her on foot. His plastic bag was
bulging, and so heavy he had to drag it over the sidewalk. He couldn’t lift it.

“The tub was nearly full to the top,” he told Andy, groaning as he struggled
to pull the bag over the curb. “I’m afraid it’s going to burst out of this bag.”

“Only two blocks to go,” she said, trying to sound reassuring. A car rolled
by slowly. The driver, a teenager with long black hair, stuck his head out the
window, grinning. “What’s in the bag? A dead body?”

“Just garbage,” Evan told him.

“That’s for sure,” Andy muttered as the car rolled away.

Several people stopped to stare at them as they entered town. “Hi, Mrs.
Winslow,” Andy called to a friend of her mother’s.

Mrs. Winslow waved, then gave Andy a curious stare, and headed into the
grocery.

Andy climbed off her bike and walked it. Evan continued to drag his bulging
bag behind him.

They made their way to the next block, then started to cross the street to
the toy store.

But they both stopped short in the middle of the street.

And gaped in shock.

The door and window of the store were boarded up. A small, hand-printed sign
tacked to the top of the door read: OUT OF BUSINESS.

Desperate to get rid of the disgusting contents of the garbage bags, Evan
pounded on the door anyway.

“Come on—somebody! Somebody, open up!”

No reply.

He pounded with both fists.

Silence.

Finally, Andy had to pull him away.

“The store is closed,” a young woman called from across the street. “It
closed a few days ago. See? It’s all boarded up and everything.”

“Very helpful,” Evan muttered under his breath. He slammed his hand angrily
against the door.

“Evan—stop. You’ll hurt yourself,” Andy warned.

“Now what?” Evan demanded. “Got any more fantastic ideas, Andy?”

She shrugged. “It’s your turn to come up with something brilliant.”

Evan sighed miserably. “Maybe I could give it to Kathryn and tell her it’s
beef. Then she’d chop it up with that knife she’s always carrying around.”

“I don’t think you’re thinking too clearly right now,” Andy said, putting a
sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

They both stared down at the garbage bags. They appeared to be moving—expanding and contracting, as if the green globs inside were
breathing
!

“Let’s go back to Kathryn’s,” Evan said, his voice trembling. “Maybe we’ll
think of something on the way.”

Somehow they managed to drag the Monster Blood back to Kathryn’s house. The
sun had gotten high in the sky. As they headed to the backyard, Evan was
drenched with sweat. His arms ached. His head throbbed.

“Now what?” he asked weakly, letting go of the bulging lawn bag.

Andy leaned her bike against the side of the garage. She pointed to the big
aluminum trash can next to the garage door. “How about that? It looks pretty
sturdy.” She walked over to it to investigate. “And look—the lid clamps down.”

“Okay,” Evan agreed, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his T-shirt.

Andy pulled off the lid of the big can. Then she dumped in the contents of her bag. It hit the bottom with a sick, squishy
sound. Then she hurried to help Evan.

“It’s so heavy,” Evan groaned, struggling to pull the bag up.

“We can do it,” Andy insisted.