The Toothless Dead Read online

  She cocked her head.

  “Morning? Like tomorrow?”

  “Yes ma’am. Ain’t got no auto parts stores ‘round here. Have to send someone to get the hose. This time of day, well, let’s just say it’s past closin’ time.”

  “How much am I lookin’ at?” Evelyn asked.

  “Well, if nothing else is wrong, I’d do it for nothing. Price of the hose is all, maybe ten, fifteen dollars tops. Should be ready to go by 9:00 am.”

  She sighed.

  “That would be wonderful.”

  “You all movin’? Quite a van load, looks like,” he asked.

  “Yes. My husband got a new job. We’re headed down to Walker’s Woods, about twenty miles south of the city. Ever been there?”

  He looked to the clouds and wondered for a bit.

  “Can’t say as I have.”

  “Well, thank you. One more question?” she said.

  “Sure, sure. Fire away.”

  “We’ll be needing a place to stay. Something close by?” Evelyn said.

  He chuckled.

  “Yes, I s’pose you will.”

  He pointed across the way.

  “The motor lodge is all we’ve got, hon, but it’s safe and clean. Sandy at the desk, she can help you find somethin’ for dinner as well.”

  “Thanks,” Evelyn said.

  Robbie saw his mother smile, there was still concern behind it, but it helped him relax. He paused his game again. The mechanic shut the hood, rocking the whole van. Then he wiped his hands on a rag. He muttered something else to Robbie’s mom, looking apologetic, and she nodded.

  “Yep, another hotel,” he said.

  She got back in the car.

  “Grab your stuff, kiddo. There’s a bed across the street with our name on it. Guess we’ll get home to your dad tomorrow.”

  “Not home,” he said.

  She smiled at him, peeking over the seat back.

  “It’s a good job. Your dad needed it. It’ll be good for all of us.”

  “Podunk, mom. You look at it online? There’s like eight people there.”

  “Robbie.”

  “That’s not even a decent game of basketball, mom. Podunk.”

  “You’ll find some friends,” she said. “I’m sure you will. There will be plenty to do.”

  “Whatever,” he said.

  The world smelled like exhaust and while they talked, she popped open the van’s rear hatch. Each grabbed a suitcase from amongst the blankets, Rubbermaid tubs and other odds and ends. They walked across to the generic Motor Lodge.

  “I think I need pizza,” he said.

  “If I can have a shower first, you’ve got a deal. If they deliver or it’s in walking distance, that is.”

  Robbie smiled and they shook their free hands.

  CHAPTER 4

  Zack and Amy pedaled slowly, weaving between the sparse pedestrians. They had accomplished nothing all day.

  “What do you wanna do tomorrow?” Amy asked.

  “Leave you somewhere,” Zack said. “Lead you off into the woods and leave you there.”

  He didn’t smile, and his words had a dreamlike quality, punctuated by a yawn.

  “How about a movie?” Amy shouted over the breeze and the hum of tires on pavement.

  “We’ve seen them both.”

  “Morts?”

  “I don’t have any money, Amy,” Zack replied.

  “We can scrape some up by morning.”

  Zack shook his head and kept pedaling.

  “Maybe.”

  “We could see what Alex is up to,” she continued.

  “He’s like…seven.”

  “He’s eight. Only a year younger than me. And he’s got all that X-men stuff.”

  Zack shrugged with his face. “Yeah, and his grandpa’s funny. He sleeps with his eyes open.”

  They cruised down the sidewalk as the town wound up for its evening routine. All the nine-to-five shops on the square were cleaning up and locking the doors. The few restaurants updated their chalkboard menus for the evening meal. It smelled like wood-fired grill and herbs and spices.

  “I’m starving,” Amy said.

  Zack checked his watch.

  “Crap.”

  Amy sighed, her head drooping.

  “Are we late?” she asked.

  “Not yet, but we’d better hurry.”

  They sped up, cutting across the grass on the center of the square, and dodged a couple who were dressed up, headed to dinner or maybe drinks at The Corner Bar, which strangely, was in the middle of the block.

  “Sorry!” Zack shouted, but his words were lost on the wind.

  The couple didn’t notice or seem to care, but simply kept walking, entered Mangiamo Italian Eatery and disappeared behind its door heavy wooden door.

  Zack and Amy were unaware of two things: Their mother had caught a glimpse of two kids who bore striking resemblance to her own children and was none too happy…And someone else was watching them approach. A man peeked from behind one of the brick buildings that lined the old cemetery and stared directly at them. His face was a dirty grey, his clothes were from another time, and wisps of something like smoke emanated from his body as if he’d recently been on fire.

  Zack pedaled hard, checking over his shoulder on occasion to see if Amy was still there. Pest or not, it would be his butt in the hot seat if something happened to her. She was there, red-faced and huffing to keep up. He knew her determination, knew that she would rather die than ever be outdone by a boy, especially him. He also knew she looked up to him, more than he thought she should.

  As the children passed, the man’s form melted into a swirl of smoke, twirling to the ground in a miniature tornado that snaked its way into a nearby storm drain. Seconds later, the smoke spun out from another storm drain, further down the road, ahead of the children, and the man formed again. He hid behind a dumpster, in a back alley behind the military surplus shop and watched them pass by again.

  “How much time we got?” Amy shouted, panting between every other word.

  “None, keep pedaling,” Zack replied in the same manner.

  The watcher didn’t follow them any further, but watched them grow small and then disappear over a swell in the two-lane blacktop. Then it evaporated again, ghosting away.

  Zack and Amy walked in the house at 5:24, their bicycles carefully placed in the backyard shed. Brad was on the couch watching television. He had on shorts and nothing else, and his right hand was stuffed down the front of them, scratching.

  “Cuttin’ it close,” he said.

  “Whatever,” Amy snarked.

  Brad launched off the couch and grabbed them both. He held each one in a headlock and pulled them around the living room by their necks.

  “Brad, stop! Gross, you stink,” Amy shouted, faking a gag.

  “That’s man smell,” Brad said.

  “Hardly,” Zack said. “More like poop smell. Did you ever hear of a shower?”

  The dog looked at them and snorted. He pawed at Brad and wagged his tail. Brad let them go.

  “I have heard of a shower. I just didn’t take one today. I’m relaxing.”

  “Relaxing smells like puke,” Zack said.

  “Just be home earlier when you skip out on me. It’s my ass that gets in trouble.”

  “You said ass,” Amy said, giggling.

  Brad shook his head and Zack smiled.

  “Don’t say that,” Brad said.

  “Ass,” she repeated.

  “Yes, don’t say that,” her mother said, hanging up her coat in the hallway.

  Amy hung her head.

  “Sorry.”

  “Oh I don’t blame you. I blame your brother.”

  Their mother glared at Brad. He held his hands up in protest, then looked at Zack.

  “Man, Zack. The things you teach your little sister,” Brad said, mocking disappointment.

  The group laughed, and mom slapped Brad on the shoulder. Her nose wrinkled
and she made a sound that resembled, “Gack!”

  “Brad, is that you? Go wash your pits, son.”

  He smiled, triumphantly, then settled back down on the couch and turned the volume on the television up.

  “Ya know,” their mother said, “you could get a job.”

  Brad frowned, turning the TV up even louder.

  “Can’t hear you, ma,” he said from the living room.

  Mrs. Winter made her ugh face and pulled out a baking sheet and frying pan from the drawer under the oven to start dinner.

  “Go wash up, then I want all of you to help me with dinner. Brad! Take a shower!”

  Brad groaned, but turned off the television and trotted to the bathroom. The sound of water rushing through the showerhead followed seconds later. Zack and Amy washed their hands in the kitchen sink and started setting the table with plates and silverware.

  “Zack, didn’t you have a school project for break?” Mrs. Winter said.

  He groaned. “Yes. A report.”

  “What about?”

  “Everyone got a different topic. We drew them out of a hat. I’m supposed to write about the Underground Railroad.”

  His expression hung as if it might fall from his face.

  “That’s exciting,” his mother said.

  “Yeah, real exciting,” Amy added.

  “No, it is exciting. You know, the Underground Railroad used to run right through Walker’s Woods?”

  “That’s what Mrs. Lark said.”

  Mrs. Winter grinned. “How is old Clethelia?”

  “She’s his favorite teacher,” Amy said as she first fumbled, then dropped her fork on the floor. She picked the utensil up and placed it on the table, dodging her mother’s all-seeing eyes.

  “Put that in the sink, Amy,” Mrs. Winter said.

  Amy sighed and did as she was told.

  “She was my favorite, too,” their mother said with a smile. “She always had a story to tell. Must be in her sixties now.”

  “Yeah,” Zack said. “She said we could come by if I wanted some more information about it. Said she had lots of stuff at home.”

  “That’s a fantastic idea, Zack. You and your sister should go over there this week and pick her brain.”

  Zack shrugged. “Maybe. But I think can find everything I need on the internet.”

  “That’s no fun,” Mom said. “Are you going to write about Harriet Tubman?”

  “Who?” Zack said.

  His mother frowned. “You’d better do some research, I think.”

  Brad entered the kitchen, still scrubbing his hair dry with a towel. He wore a fresh set of boxer shorts and nothing else as he sat down at his place.

  “Let’s grub. I’m feelin’ a bit peckish,” he said.

  “Clothes. You will wear clothes at the dinner table,” their mother said and sent him back to his room with a look.

  He showed up a few seconds later with a t-shirt and boxer shorts.

  “Good enough,” Mom said.

  CHAPTER 5

  The next morning, just down the street, an X-men skateboard, covered in dewdrops, lay on Alex King’s front lawn. Inside, he was wandering down the stairs in X-men pajamas, holding a plastic Gambit action figure and yawning wide. A lick of hair stuck up on the back of his head.

  “Alex!” Mrs. King shouted.

  “I’m up,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

  “In the kitchen, honey!”

  She breezed out of the kitchen, through the living room and then down the hallway where Alex was trudging along. She patted him on the head as she passed him and continued on to the kitchen.

  “Your dad’s already gone to work and I’m leaving right now for an appointment, okay? Granddad is here if you need anything. Dad?” she said.

  From the living room, Granddad responded, “In here, dear.”

  She grabbed Alex by the wrist, gently leading him into the room where his bath-robed grandfather sat in a worn, leather recliner. His feet were up and he was sipping a mug of coffee.

  “Dad, I’m leaving. Keep an eye on the little man, will ya?”

  “You know I will. We’ll work a puzzle or something, won’t we, Andre?”

  Alex rolled his eyes. Andre was his great uncle’s name, and he’d been dead for a long time.

  “It’s Alex,” he said.

  “All right then, Alfred,” Granddad said with a wink.

  “It’s Alex,” Alex said and looked at his mother with forced exasperation. His mother didn’t notice.

  “Right, right. Alex. I knew that.”

  Granddad fingered the remote control, changing the muted television from golf to fishing. Mom kissed her son, patted her father on the head, and then rushed out the door. Alex sat in a high-backed chair next to the window and watched as his mother drove away. Before her car turned at the end of the street, he heard snoring.

  Granddad sat mouth open, head back and sawed logs in his recliner.

  “That might be a new world record,” Alex said.

  ****

  Amy stormed through the house, chasing Zack. He had the remote control and wouldn’t give it to her. She clenched her teeth and jumped at him, tackling him on the couch. Sitting on his chest, he held the remote as far from her as he could with one hand while fending her off with the other which was planted firmly on her face. She struggled against him but wasn’t quite strong enough.

  “Amy, you don’t even like that show,” Zack said, giggling.

  “Today I do.”

  “Just because I want to watch something else.”

  She huffed and climbed off of him, off the couch and stood there panting a second before she stomped away. At the edge of the living room carpet she stopped, and an evil smile spread across her face.

  “What?” Zack said.

  Amy took off running. Zack jumped to his feet and ran after her, dropping the remote on the floor. His heavy feet clumped down the hallway as he followed her to his own bedroom. Stopping in the doorway, he saw Amy had her hand on his desk, ready to sweep everything into the floor.

  “You wouldn’t,” he said.

  “I would.”

  She shoved a handful of books off the desk, and they landed, making a fwap-fwap sound. Zack’s face turned red as she toppled a coffee mug that sat on his desk. He’d gotten it on a family trip to Washington D.C. On one side the cup read C.I.A., and on the other, DENY EVERYTHING. As it fell, it sent pens, markers and pencils scattering about the rug in the middle of his room.

  “Amy!” he shouted and lunged at her.

  Zack was grabbed in mid-attack. Brad had him around the waist and pushed him to the ground before sitting on top of him. Brad was shirtless, wearing baggy shorts. His hair stuck out in every which direction.

  “People…are…trying…to…sleep,” Brad said, each word coinciding with a punch, pinch, or poke.

  Zack fought back with glee, but was no match for his older, much larger brother. Amy tried to scoot around them and escape, but Brad grabbed her too, and tickled her while still sitting on Zack.

  “Stop!” Amy said.

  “Never,” he growled, holding up one finger as torture.

  “Brad, I’m gonna pee!”

  Mrs. Winter appeared in the doorway, a dour look on her face.

  “She pees, you mop,” she said. “I’m up. I guess I’ll cook breakfast.”

  Brad dropped his sister, but pointed one finger at her again, wiggling it, smirking and raising his eyebrows in threat. She squealed and ducked behind her mother. Zack sat up to catch his breath.

  “Stop,” Mrs. Winter said.

  “Only for you, mom,” Brad said.

  He pulled a cell phone from the pocket of his shorts and checked messages, conveniently shielding himself from his mother’s glare.

  “After breakfast, your father and I are going shopping. I’d like to know my younger kids are being watched.”

  “I got it,” Brad said, still staring at his phone.

  “Really? Because I’d
swear I saw two children fitting their description with bicycles that your father and I purchased as Christmas presents last year, riding downtown yesterday.”

  Brad swallowed, leering at his siblings.

  “That’s impossible, ma. It must be some mistake. They know how dangerous that can be.”

  She looked at all three of them. They stared back, silent guilt pouring from their eyes.

  “Well, just keep an eye on them, or you may never see that car you want,” she said. Brad cringed. Mrs. Winters continued, “If you don’t get a job, you’ll never see it anyway.”

  She gave him a punctuating look.

  “Noted, ma.”

  The family ate breakfast. Roscoe wagged his tail and begged for scraps, but didn’t get any. After the meal, Mr. and Mrs. Winter cleaned up and left. Brad watched from the window and when the car was safely out of sight, he went to Zack’s bedroom and grabbed his brother.

  “Stay in the neighborhood, today, will ya?”

  Zack smiled. “This neighborhood?”

  “You know what I mean. Just do it, Z.”

  He leaned over and toppled the books that Zack had just stacked back on his desk.

  “Hey,” Zack said.

  “Just do it.”

  Zack lined the books back up, using a ruler to push all the bindings into a precise line before placing the ruler back into his desk drawer, in a spot he had designed for it. He nodded.

  “I’m goin’ back to sleep,” Brad said.

  “Of course you are.”

  Brad left Zack’s room and a moment later, a door slammed. Zack finished fixing his desk, took a quick look around his room. It was neat as a pin and so he smiled, proud of himself. As he walked out, he hung a stolen do-not-disturb-sign from Holiday Inn on the knob and closed the door. He’d already forgotten about his school paper, Mrs. Lark, and the Underground Railroad.

  Outside, Amy jumped rope on the driveway. Zack stretched and yawned before he approached her with care. She skipped as the rope swung around her, counting each repetition in a sing-song voice.

  “Ninety-two. Ninety-three. Ninety…”

  Zack held his arms out, about to attack, but something caught his attention. The jump rope came down on his arm, tangled and Amy glared at him, growing red in the face.

  “I was going for a hundred.”

  She stomped her foot, but Zack’s ignored her. She looked where he was looking. The U-Haul was still there, and the man was pulling a cart full of boxes down the ramp at the back and into the garage.

  “He’s out there again,” Amy said.