Ghoul (15 page)

“So Ronny, Jason, and Steve's parents taught them to be assholes?”

“Maybe.” Doug paused, choosing his words carefully. "Look, with everything I told you last night, I know I've got problems. But when Barry started kicking Catcher the other day, who did he remind you of?"

He shrugged, and then mumbled, “His father.” Timmy wondered how his friend could be so nice, how he could keep such a positive attitude with all that had happened to him. But even so, Doug was right. He was about to admit that he 'd been thinking the same thing, that maybe grown-ups were the real monsters, when they reached Barry's house. Timmy decided to wait until later.

They slowly approached the front door. The window shades were still closed, and the house looked dark.

“Go ahead,” Doug whispered. “Knock.”

“You knock. It's your turn. I knocked last time.”

Doug rapped on the door twice. They heard shuffling sounds inside. Then the door opened, the rusty hinges squeaking. Mrs. Smeltzer peered out at them through one good eye. The other one was swollen shut and looked black and purple. Timmy and Doug gasped in surprise, but she just smiled.

“Hi, boys.”

Timmy thought she sounded sad--and maybe a little relieved as well.

“Um, hi Mrs. Smeltzer. Is Barry home?”

She nodded toward the cemetery. When she tilted her head, Timmy noticed that another pair of new earrings sparkled in her ears.

“He's out helping his dad. You might not want to go over there this morning, though.”

“Why not?” Timmy stared at her black eye.

“Well, Mr. Smeltzer didn't get much sleep last night. He was out late. He's a little grumpy.”

Neither of them replied. Doug stared at his feet. Timmy couldn't look away.

“You okay, Timmy?”

Am I okay? he thought. You're the one with the black eye, lady.

“Yeah, I'm fine. Didn't sleep much last night, either. The storm kept me awake.”

She smiled at them again. “Well, I'll tell Barry that you stopped by.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Smeltzer.”

She closed the door, and they turned away and started back down the sidewalk.

“Jesus,” Timmy whispered. “Did you see that shiner?”

“See it? How could I miss it? The whole side of her face is swollen up. What do we do?”

Timmy sighed. "Nothing we can do, except maybe tell my parents, and if we do that, Barry might get pissed at us, or they might say we can't hang out with him anymore. Let's just not think about it. We'll go find Barry. Make sure he's okay. If he doesn't have to work, then maybe we can explore the tunnel today after all. If not, tKen we'll just hang around inside the Dugout until he's finished."

“Maybe we better not. Mrs. Smeltzer said Barry's dad was in a bad mood. The way her face looked, I'd say she was right.”

“Screw him. I'm in a bad mood, too.”

He crossed the road. Doug followed after a moment's hesitation. They passed by the newly installed no trespassing sign and went around the side of the church.

“I noticed something else,” Timmy said. "She had on another new pair of earrings.

I'm telling you, man, something weird's going on. Something more than just him hitting them."

“But, like you said, there's nothing we can do. Barry's dad is a grown-up. We're kids.”

Timmy kicked a stone. It shot across the church parking lot, careened off a telephone pole, and rolled away.

“He's no adult. He's a monster. Barry should tell somebody.”

“Maybe he's afraid to.”

They reached the rear of the church and started down the cemetery's center road.

There was no sign of Barry or his father, and they didn't hear the sound of lawnmowers or anything else. This morning, even the birds and insects seemed silent. It was almost as if all the wildlife had abandoned the grounds.

“Why would Barry be afraid to tell?” Timmy lowered his voice, in case Mr. Smeltzer or Barry were within earshot. "He'd be safe. Him and his mom both. The cops would lock his old man up in a heartbeat."

“Maybe he's embarrassed--like I was.” Doug sighed. “I still can't believe I told you last night.”

“Are you sorry that you did?”

“No.” Doug hesitated. “But I am afraid that you'll tell somebody. Your parents, or Reverend Moore.”

Timmy clapped him on the shoulder. "I promised that I wouldn't tell, and I won't.

But you've gotta do something, man. You can't just stay there and let her keep doing this to you. It 's not right. She's no better than Barry's dad."

“I know, I know. It's just--she's all I have left, Timmy. I can't just leave her.”

“But you have to. You have to get out of there.”

"I can't. I know it's wrong. I know it's doing something bad, like the time we put the shotgun shell on the railroad tracks to see what would happen when the train ran over it."

Timmy shook his head. “It's a little worse than that, Doug.”

“I know. All I'm saying is that I know it's wrong, but I can't stop it, other than locking my door.”

“Do you like it? Do you want it to keep happening?”

Doug looked horrified. “No. Of course I don't like it. I hate it. I told you that.”

“Then get some help.”

“I can't. It wouldn't be--”

“She's a monster.”

“She's also my mother!”

He shoved Timmy, hard. Timmy stumbled backward, almost tripping over a low gravestone.

Doug advanced on him, meaty fists raised in defiance.

“She's my mother and don't you dare call her that, you jerk. Don't you dare!”

“Hey--”

“Shut up. It's not for you to say.”

Timmy held his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay. Take it easy. I'm sorry. Seriously.

I shouldn't have said anything."

Doug's face had turned reddish purple, and the veins stood out in his neck. Another one throbbed on his forehead, pulsing beneath the skin. He dropped his fists to his sides, clenching and unclenching his fingers. His jaw hung slack. His breath came in rapid, labored gasps. He turned his back and walked away.

“You okay?” Timmy asked.

Without looking back, he nodded, still hyperventilating. His shoulders sagged.

“Where you going? You're not going home, are you?”

Shaking his head, Doug bent over, hands on his knees, and threw up. Timmy didn't know if he should help him or just give him some space, so he just stood there, watching.

“Don't bring it up any more, Timmy.”

He took a few more steps and then vomited again.

“Doug,” Timmy said, “I really am sorry, man. I didn't mean to piss you off.”

“I'm sorry, too.” Doug stood back up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Just let me deal with it. Okay? It's my problem and I'll deal with it. I don't want people finding out. They pick on me already. Can you imagine what they 'll say if they find out about this? Can you imagine what they'd do to me? To my mom? I don't have anything. My dad's gone. All I have left is her, and even if she is ... disgusting, I still don't want to lose her. Can you understand that?"

Timmy nodded, somewhat reluctantly.

“So let me handle it my way, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You promise? You won't say any more?”

“Yeah, man. Sure.”

They walked on in silence, past the debris left behind in the wake of two storms--the thunderstorm from the night before, and the emotional storm brewing between them. They passed earthworms wiggling helplessly at the bottom of rain puddles, and graveside floral arrangements that had been blown over by the storm, their petals and stems scattered across the cemetery. A green Styrofoam wreath lay in the middle of the road. Timmy picked it up, examined it, then tossed it aside like a Frisbee.

They avoided two mourners, who were gathered around a single gray stone, and nodded hello to a jogger, Mrs. Nelson, who lived on the other side of the Wahls and gave out the best candy on Halloween. Apparently, Mrs. Nelson had ignored the no trespassing sign as well. Timmy wondered aloud if Mr. Smeltzer had hollered at her about it.

But other than the graveside visitors and the jogging woman, the cemetery was deserted.

Finally, they spotted Barry and his father. They were using a chain hoist to lift a fallen tombstone.

“Wow,” Doug said, speaking for the first time since their argument. “The storm must have been even stronger than we thought.”

Timmy nodded, only half-listening. He was studying Clark Smeltzer's posture, looking for clues to his demeanor. All signs pointed to bad. Barry moved like a whipped dog, and even from this distance, they could hear Clark shouting orders at him.

"We can't get to the Dugout with them working down there.“ Timmy picked a blade of grass and put it in his mouth, chewing the tip. ”Mr. Smeltzer would see us for sure."

Neither Barry nor his father had spotted them yet. They were too absorbed in their task. The mourners had gotten back into their car and left, and Mrs. Nelson was all the way on the other side of the cemetery now.

“Come on,” Timmy said. “Let's sneak over to the shed while they're busy. We'll take a look at the cave entrance.”

“What if he catches us? If we're down inside the tunnel, we might not hear him coming.”

"We'll hear him. Besides, it's not like we can actually go inside it right now, anyway.

We promised Barry that we'd wait for him. I just want to check it out a little more."

“Okay,” Doug agreed, still sounding unsure.

They cut through the grass, ducking behind tombstones and monuments, trying to stay out of Clark Smeltzer's line of sight. Timmy noticed more sunken graves, and when they passed by his grandfather 's plot, he was dismayed to see that the dirt had fallen in even more. For a moment, he imagined himself exploring the caverns below, and stumbling across his grandfather 's coffin--or even a body. A hideous image, but one he'd seen a thousand times before in the pages of House of Secrets and The Witching Hour.

They were almost to the shed when Mrs. Nelson circled round again, this time on the road that ran between the old portion of the cemetery and the new one. They hid behind a monument until she'd passed by, and then darted out and crossed the path. They ducked behind the shed and knelt at the window.

“What the hell?” Timmy pounded his fist against the new boards that had been nailed up overnight. "Barry's old man must have found out. No wonder Mrs. Smeltzer said he was pissed off."

Doug slapped at a mosquito. The squished insect left a red smear on his palm. “Oh, man. Wonder how much trouble Barry got into?”

“God,” Timmy said. "I don't even want to think about it. Depends on whether or not his dad figured out we were the ones climbing through there when he wasn't around." Timmy paused to lace up his Converse All-Stars which had come undone, while Doug inspected the window. "I don't see what the big deal is. Barry's allowed in there when he has his old man's keys.“ ”Yeah, but nobody's supposed to be in there when he isn't around--especially us. And besides, when have any of Mr. Smeltzer's rules made sense? He makes a big deal out of everything.“ ”If he does know, you think he'll tell our parents?“ ”I don't know,“ Timmy said. ”I doubt it. He knows that my dad doesn't think much of him.“ Doug poked the dirt with a stick. ”You don 't think ... you don't suppose he'd hit us? The way he does Barry?“ ”I'd like to see him try,“ Timmy said. ”I'd kick his drunken ass."

From behind them, Clark Smeltzer said, “Is that so?” Timmy and Doug both jumped, and Doug let out a frightened squawk and dropped his stick. Mr. Smeltzer seized them by the ears, pinching and twisting the cartilage. The boys shouted for help as he yanked them to their feet and spun them around. He grinned. “Kick my ass, will you?”

“Let go,” Timmy demanded. "You're hurting us." Doug started to whimper. Timmy silently willed him not to cry, not to give Barry's father the satisfaction. "You're hurting us,“ Timmy repeated. ”You're goddamn right I am, you little brat." He released them both and took a menacing step forward. Crying out, Doug scrambled backward, tripped, and tumbled over onto the dirt pile, landing flat on his back. Timmy shrank against the wall of the shed.

Clark Smeltzer glared at them both. His eyes were red and rheumy, and an unlit cigarette dangled from his mouth. He chomped the filter furiously. Barry stood behind him, lingering in the background, looking at his friends in dismay. His eyes were wide.

He said nothing.

Timmy glanced around in fright, hoping that Mrs. Nelson would jog by again, see what was happening, and rescue them. But Mrs. Nelson was nowhere in sight, apparently done exercising for the day. The cemetery was deserted. Somewhere in the distance, one of the neighbors started a lawnmower, and he heard the faint drone of it, but as far as Timmy was concerned, the lawnmower and its owner might as well have been on the moon.

Clark spat out the cigarette. "I figured it was you two that was sneaking in here, as well. 'Couldn't just be them other boys,'I thought. Looks like I was right. Thought I told you two that I didn 't want you playing in this graveyard no more."

The boys said nothing. Doug was too busy fighting back tears and Timmy was afraid his voice would betray him. His legs trembled and his face was flushed. His lips felt heavy. Swollen. His heartbeat throbbed inside his head.

Barry took a timid step forward. “Dad ...”

Clark whirled on him. "You shut your goddamned mouth, boy. I don't want to hear a thing from you. You were probably breaking in here with them, weren't you? What'd I tell you about being out here without me? Huh?"

He raised his hand and Barry cringed. Timmy stepped forward.

“Why don't you just leave him alone, you son of a bitch?”

Clark turned, slowly, his mouth hanging open in disbelief.

“What'd you just say?”

Timmy swallowed. “You heard me, asshole. You're good at hitting women and little kids. Why can't you beat on somebody your own size?”

The color drained from Mr. Smeltzer's face. His open hand curled into a fist.

“I've warned you before, Graco. Somebody needs to do something about that mouth of yours.”

“Go ahead,” Timmy challenged. “Hit me.”

“Timmy,” Barry said, “Shut up. Don't--”

Clark lunged. Timmy tried to dodge him, but the angered man was quicker. He seized Timmy's T-shirt with both fists and lifted him off the ground, slamming him into the wall of the shed. Timmy's feet dangled off the ground. The boy was too terrified to speak. Timmy's anger vanished, replaced with fear.