Enter And Die

 

 

“Why would my mom send us here?” Tabitha asked. “It makes zero sense.”

Miko had just driven off in her Subaru. As we stood across from the axeman’s house, Tabitha stowed four boxes of Girl Scout cookies in my backpack. I held Leon.

For once, luck was on our side: Creepy Axe Murderer Guy didn’t appear to be at home. His driveway was empty. The biggest problem was Tabitha. She kept firing one question after another at me in full investigative reporter mode.

“Why didn’t my mom tell us where we were going?”

“Are you sure you remember every single thing she told you to do?”

“How does us being here help Mac?”

“Will you please shut up?” I said.

“Excuse me?” Tabitha huffed.

“I said please, didn’t I? I can’t hardly think with you blasting me with questions.”

“Too bad, because I have another one for you,” she said. “How come you get to see my mom and not me, huh? It’s not fair! She’s my mother!”

Tabitha was right, it wasn’t fair. But it was just another question I couldn’t answer. When all the ghost stuff started, I’d figured it was the sunglasses. But then I remembered seeing Sandra Morton’s ghost before I even had the glasses, so I still didn’t know what was what. I kept wishing I could talk to Better Bertie, but she wasn’t showing up anymore, and I felt lost without her. She’s not just a better me, she’s a much better me, and I needed her now.

So I decided to imagine what Better Bertie would do.

“Tell me what you see,” I said, handing my sunglasses to Tabitha.

“Is it the glasses? Is that how you see ghosts?” she asked, sliding them on. She glanced about, hopeful. “What am I supposed to see? Am I looking for my mom, or what? All I see is a locked-up fence, a bunch of rusty junk, and some overgrown grass.”

“Look at me,” I said. “Do I have colors surrounding me, like an aura?”

“No. You look normal. Which is to say you look totally annoying.”

“Give me my glasses.”

Reluctantly, Tabitha handed me the glasses. Her face showed disappointment. We both had hoped the glasses would allow her to see her mother. And though I knew Sandra Morton’s sunglasses helped me see what others couldn’t see, now I was pretty sure there was something more to the equation.

Something in my blood.

My great-aunt Tillie had vision, or what she called “an extra eyeball” that allowed her to see what other people couldn’t see. “A curse that sometimes disguised itself as a blessing,” she’d told me, and vice-versa. And she said this: “If you want to break bread with angels, Bertie Bee, you better keep an extra chair at the table in case the devil shows up, looking for a free meal.”

But I couldn’t think about all that stuff now. I needed to focus. I put on the sunglasses and looked around. Everything I saw told me to run for my life.

Think of the worst nightmare you ever had. Now triple that, multiply it by a thousand, then add ten heaping scoops of the most demented horror movie misery you could ever imagine on top of it all. Creepy Axe Murderer Guy’s house was so vile it stung my eyes to look at it. My heartbeat spiked in my ears. My throat closed so tightly I could barely breathe.

Here’s the thing. The property had its own aura, and it looked like death.

A menacing black sandstorm of energy churned around the perimeter. Dark tendrils of hate twisted from the edges like hairy spider legs. Fierce red lightning bolts of rage sizzled a warning to one and all: ENTER AND DIE!

Feeling my fear, Leon growled.

“What’s wrong, Bertie?” Tabitha said, alarmed. “Are you seeing something?”

“Yes, but I … can’t really describe it.”

“Since when has that stopped you?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but I still couldn’t find the words.

“Bertie, tell me what you see!” Tabitha insisted.

“I see evil,” I said.

Ripping the sunglasses from my face, I rubbed my aching eyes and caught my breath. “This is bad, Tabitha. Whoever this guy is, there’s something really wicked here. I mean, no way he’s your normal neighborhood creepster.”

“Well, duh,” Tabitha nodded. “His name is Jack Peak. People say he murdered two burglars who tried to rob his house like twenty years ago. Supposedly, he chopped them up and buried them in his backyard. I thought it was just an urban legend or something.”

Hearing an oncoming rumble, I pushed Tabitha behind an elm tree.

Five seconds later, a junky Dodge truck rolled toward us.

Jack Peak had come home.