The Conch Shell of Doom (36 page)

“Let’s begin.” Mr. Lovell glared at the kids, freaking them out with his pitch black eyes. “Where is our virgin sacrifice?”

Bailey’s heart stopped for a moment. Mr. Lovell’s venomous stare hovered over each of them. He stopped for a moment at Tim.
Damn
. He was a virgin after all.

“Don’t do this,” Franklin said. “There’s still time to do the right thing.”

“They look so wholesome.” Mr. Lovell ignored Franklin and ran the blade down Tim’s cheek, making him whimper. “However—”

Bailey thought his heart might explode. If he stood by and watched his friend die, what kind of person would that make him? Could he just stand by and let Tim be killed? Bailey squeezed his hands into fists to control the anxiety and stepped forward.

“Only one of you is truly wholesome.” Mr. Lovell smiled, revealing brown and black teeth as he moved in front of Bailey. “As pure as snow.”

Bailey was caught off guard.
Wait. It is him? Tim isn’t a virgin? Huh?

“It’s commendable in this day and age to remain unsullied at your age, even if it has left you in this current situation.”
 

Bailey shot a look back at Tim. “I thought you—”

“Christmas break.” Tim ran his foot through the sand. “Penny Benjamin. She swore me to secrecy.” He slapped his forehead. “Which I just broke. Stupid.”

Bailey’s heart sank. “Don’t I feel like a loser.”

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” Mr. Lovell said. “Your flesh is about to become home to the most powerful being known to man.”

Alexis was on the verge of tears. Even Marshall was upset, his arms crossed tightly around his body. Bailey’s parents, however, couldn’t have been more satisfied. Bailey cursed the moment he was born, wishing the powers that be made him a rhinoceros, or anything that wasn’t a human. Or if he were to be born a person, at the very least it would be somewhere farther inland and heavily populated. Like St. Louis.

Bailey never thought of himself as a virgin sacrifice. That title usually went to a woman—at least in movies and books—but if a guy had to be a virgin sacrifice,
naturally
it would be him. The embarrassment made yakking on Jenny Hunt seem like one of the better things that happened to Bailey. In the near future, when his soul would be in Heaven, or whatever plane of existence came after death, Bailey could see himself trying to chat up some lovely female spirit, and eventually she’d get around to asking how he died, and he’d reply, “Oh, I was a virgin sacrifice.” That conversation would end faster than the career of a one-hit wonder. Worse, his entire afterlife would be marred by the incident. There’d be no getting over it.
 

Percy took Bailey by the arms and led him to the card table, which had been outfitted with ropes at each corner. It was happening. And nobody was doing anything to stop it.

Bailey looked to his parents, pleading for help. “Mom? Dad?”

“You’re doing a great thing, Bailey.” Earl made it sound like sacrificing Bailey was the proudest moment in a father’s life. “Your end will mark the beginning of a new world.”

“If you think it’s so great, why don’t you trade places with me?” Bailey barked. What would it take to snap his parents out of it? They wouldn’t really think of Bailey dying as a good thing, would they?
 

He dug his feet into the sand, refusing to move one step closer to the card table. Portman and Jackson pushed Bailey, only digging his feet deeper into the beach. They quit pushing and instead picked him up, slamming him on the table. He landed elbow first, sending a sharp, throbbing pain through his arm. The move caught him by surprise. All things considered, he wondered why they didn’t treat his body a little nicer.

Wanda and Earl each held some rope. They tried to tie up Bailey, but he still refused to cooperate, flinging his arms and legs everywhere, hoping by some chance he’d connect with someone’s face. So what if it was a losing battle? He wasn’t going down without a fight.
 

“Look at the kid squirm,” Portman laughed, as he made sure Franklin stayed down on his knees.
 

“You’d think someone put a ferret in his undies,” Jackson snorted. “Hoppin’ around like a jumpin’ bean.”

Wanda gave the two cops a displeased
look. “You boys want to help or stand there and crack jokes?”

“Crack jokes.” Jackson laughed. “Obviously.”

Wanda’s unhappy gaze narrowed into the pissed-off-mom look. Portman and Jackson moaned.

“Allow me.” Deckland took Portman’s place watching Franklin.
 

Portman and Jackson pinned Bailey down on the table, leaving his parents free to tie him up. Bailey tried again to break free, but the cops were too strong. He banged his head on the table, more than a little frustrated.

Wanda finished tying her son’s arms to the table and then kissed him on the forehead. “Isn’t this wonderful?”

“It’s ridiculous. I officially hate you two.” Bailey hoped the venom in his words would sting his parents. “You’re serving me up to these assholes like I’m a shrimp cocktail. I hope you two rot and die.”

“Such language,” Mr. Lovell said, tracing the blade’s outline with a finger. “I can’t say I blame you. If I were in your position, I wouldn’t want to honor my mother and father either.”
 

Even tied down, Bailey shook with anxiety as Mr. Lovell loomed overhead like a bad omen, pulling on the bindings to make sure they were secure. Bailey wished he had some kind of wicked comeback to say, but his mind was too saturated with fear to think of anything besides “don’t kill me.” Mr. Lovell grinned, the scars around his mouth mashing together like a ridged potato chip. He pulled off his other glove and then unbuttoned his jacket. The wind picked up to a faint howl. Mr. Lovell let the jacket fall from his body. A powerful gust carried it away.
 

Mr. Lovell coughed and then began unbuttoning his shirt. He still clutched the blade, making it difficult to get the shirt’s smaller buttons using only one free hand. Each button that came loose gave Bailey a clearer picture of Mr. Lovell’s chest, which was every bit as scarred as his face. There was something else about his torso. Bailey couldn’t quite make out what he saw. It couldn’t be. That wasn’t possible. Was it? Mr. Lovell finished with the shirt, the wind flapping it around like a cape. Bailey almost wet himself. Inside Mr. Lovell’s stomach was the clear outline of a human head moving around.

“Holy shit!” Tim squealed.
 

“My God.” Alexis tensed, covering her mouth with her hand.

Marshall threw his hands in the air. “I’m out. Done. Crazy train has left the building.”

“Okay, somebody have sex with me right now.” Bailey couldn’t take his eyes off of the head inside Mr. Lovell’s stomach.
 

Franklin leaned back against his legs in the sand. “Hello, brother.”
 

The outline of Trenton smiling poked through the skin. Mr. Lovell raised the blade and turned to the crowd, who broke out into cheers, drowning out Bailey’s screams.

“Don’t do this,” Franklin pleaded. “You don’t know Trenton like I do. He’s not going to share this world with you. You bring him back, and all of us are dead. All of us.”

“It’s funny. The more you beg for me to stop, the more I want to go through with it.” Mr. Lovell glanced up at the sky. The wind accelerated, feeling like a gentle pat on the face. “We offer up this sacrifice to you, Trenton Maroney, so that you may rise again and take your place at the throne of humanity.”

The crowd chanted in a language Bailey didn’t recognize. Regardless, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know they were probably saying something similar to Mr. Lovell. The sky turned black all around them, swallowing up most of the light. A steady rain fell, adding a layer of coldness to Bailey’s shaking. Lightning jumped across the sky, making it easier to see. Thunder followed a second later.

“Hear us, my lord.” Mr. Lovell turned to face Bailey. “Live again, in the vessel of this mortal.”

The lightning increased in force and intensity, like it was the ceremony’s own personal strobe light. The bass of the thunder crashing pounded in Bailey’s chest. Everyone in the crowd closed their eyes and lowered their heads, the rain dripping off their hoods. Bailey shook so much he couldn’t even make a fist with his hand to help ease the anxiety.

Franklin tried to get up, but Deckland had little trouble keeping Franklin down. Julie, Alexis, and Marshall all struggled to fight through Trenton’s followers and free Bailey, but there were too many of them. Marshall’s dad had his son in a headlock. Strange. Tim wasn’t doing anything. He stood off to the side, an odd little smirk on his face, like he knew something nobody else did, including a very confused Bailey.

There was a short break in the lightning. Once it resumed striking, Tim had vanished. Bailey couldn’t believe it. Maybe Tim really was some sort of ninja. Bailey felt a touch of hope, and promised himself that he’d never make fun of Tim’s ninja dreams ever again, provided Bailey survived the Awakening.

That prospect wasn’t looking very good. Mr. Lovell held the blade, ready to strike. All he needed was to thrust downward to stab Bailey. The crowd’s chanting reached a fever pitch. Not even the thunder could drown it out. Bailey tightened his stomach and wiggled back and forth, hard as he could. The table turned over, leaving him facing the ocean.

“I’m here, grasshopper.” Tim appeared out of nowhere. How he snuck around to help was beyond Bailey’s imagination. Tim made easy work of the rope tied around Bailey’s feet with the hook sword.

“I love you, you damn ninja,” Bailey said, stretching his legs.

“Right back at you, kemosabe.” Tim moved to cut Bailey’s hands free.

It didn’t take long for him to notice everything went dark. Quiet. No storm, no cutting of the rope, anything. Like someone pressed the pause button on life. Paranoia ate at Bailey’s nerves.
What happened?
Where’s Tim?
Bailey thought about running with his hands still tied to the table, but that was stupid. Someone could easily tackle him from behind, which would be super painful with the table there.
 

Bailey couldn’t hold out any longer. “Tim?”
 

More bolts darted across the sky. The hook sword lay on the sand. Bailey glanced up. Mr. Lovell stood behind Tim, the blade ready to end the ninja’s career before it had a chance to begin.

“No!” Bailey closed his eyes, unable to watch the knife slide across his friend’s throat.
 

There was an
oomph
, followed by wet sand flying on Bailey’s face. He opened his eyes. Mr. Lovell, blade in hand, wrestled with Franklin in the sand. Deckland lay crumpled next to them, disoriented. Bailey didn’t know how Franklin had pulled that off but thanked God he did.

Portman and Jackson moved toward the immortal. Bailey twirled around, banging the table tied to his back into the cops’ knees. Both of them fell into the sand, clutching their legs. Marshall almost broke past his father, until a handful of cloaked figures swooped in to hold him back. Julie and Alexis were being pushed farther and farther away by several of Trenton’s followers. Alexis tried to dart around them but was easily tackled. Bailey’s eyes darted side to side. Where was Tim? The karate kid had pulled another disappearing act.
 

Franklin and Mr. Lovell remained gridlocked, each struggling for control. The pair rolled on top of each other, kicking up wet sand. Franklin grabbed Mr. Lovell by the throat and pushed up, straining the man’s neck to the point Bailey thought it might tear off. Franklin took advantage, and slapped the weapon away. He and Mr. Lovell eyed the blade, then each other, and then crawled across the sand, racing to see who could get it first.

Tim reappeared out of the crowd of Trenton’s followers. He picked up the sword and used it to make mincemeat of the binding. No longer tied up, the table fell to the ground. Bailey stretched his back, thankful he didn’t have to lug the sacrificial whatever anymore and then rushed over to the pile of weapons. He slipped the armor on over his head and then picked up the whistle.
 

“Come on.” Tim rushed at the cloaked figures holding back Alexis and Julie, diving at their knees like a bowling ball.
 

Marshall’s dad still had his son in a headlock. Bailey ran up behind him and yanked on the cloak’s hood, giving Marshall just enough of an opening to push his father away. Wanda and Earl reached for their son, taking him by the arm. Bailey pulled himself free, thanks to the rain making everything slick and wet.

Tim, Marshall, and Alexis grabbed their weapons. Julie picked up her shotgun mid-stride and then sprinted toward Franklin and Mr. Lovell, who took turns pulling each other back from the Blade of Hugues de Payens. Julie cracked Mr. Lovell on the back of the head with the butt of the shotgun. He screamed, clutching the back of his head as it rocked back and forth. Free from the struggle, Franklin took hold of the weapon.
 

Percy set the Conch Shell of Doom on the table, which lay upside down, and then pointed at Franklin. “He’s got the blade! Help Mr. Lovell!”
 

The hooded figures rushed past Bailey and his friends, creating a barrier between Franklin and his enemy. Bailey saw Deckland begin to stir and got the armor on as fast as possible, but the adrenaline flowing through Bailey made his fingers shaky. It was a welcome change from anxiety messing with him, though it wasn’t exactly helpful either. He finished strapping in the armor and felt a tiny bit safer until he was tackled by Percy from behind. The whistle landed a few feet away. Bailey reached out, but it wasn’t close enough.
 

“Don’t think I forgot we need a virgin sacrifice,” Percy said.

“Let me go, you dick.” Bailey reached out for the whistle, but as hard as he tried to make his arms longer, they still weren’t long enough. He wished the wind would carry it closer.
 

Somehow, Percy was no longer on top of Bailey. Maybe the wind threw him off? It didn’t matter. Bailey crawled to the whistle, cleaned the wet sand off, and then jammed it in his mouth. He got to his feet, ready to simultaneously blow the whistle and flip off Percy. The ultimate insult.