40 - Night of the Living Dummy III (3 page)

“Yeah. I want to take some pictures,” he replied. He raised his camera in
both hands.

“Cool,” Dan said. “That’s a cool idea.” I could see that he was trying to be
friendly to Zane.

I didn’t want to be left out. “It’s neat that you’re into photography,” I
told Zane.

“Yeah. I know,” he replied.

Dan led the way up the attic stairs. Halfway up, I turned back. I saw Zane
lingering at the bottom.

“Are you coming up or not?” I called down. My voice echoed in the narrow,
dark stairwell.

I caught a look of fear on Zane’s face. He was trying to be brave, I
realized. Trying not to be afraid the way he was last time.

“Coming,” he called up. I saw him take a deep breath. Then he came running up
the stairs.

He stayed close to Dan and me as we crossed the attic. The eyes peered out at
us darkly from around the big room.

I clicked on the light. The dummies all came into view. Propped on chairs and
the old couch, leaning against the wall, they grinned at us.

I carried Rocky over to his folding chair. I slid him off my shoulder and set
him down. I crossed his arms in his lap and straightened his striped shirt. The
mean-looking dummy sneered up at me.

“Uncle Danny has a few new guys,” Zane said from across the room. He stood
close to Dan in front of the couch. He held the camera in his hands, but he didn’t take any
pictures. “Where does he find them?”

“He found the newest one in a trash can,” I replied, pointing to the
mean-looking dummy.

Dan picked up Miss Lucy and held it up to Zane. “Hiya, Zane! Take my
picture!” Dan made Miss Lucy say in a high, shrill voice.

Zane obediently raised the camera to his eye. “Say cheese,” he told Miss
Lucy.

“Cheese,” Dan said in Miss Lucy’s high voice.

Zane flashed a picture.

“Give me a big wet kiss!” Dan made Miss Lucy say. He shoved the dummy’s face
close to Zane’s.

Zane backed away. “Yuck.”

“Put the dummy down,” I told my brother. “We’d better get back downstairs.
They’re all probably waiting for us.”

“Okay, okay,” Dan grumbled. He turned to set Miss Lucy down. Zane wandered
down the row of dummies, studying them.

I bent down and straightened Wilbur’s bow tie. The old dummy was starting to
look really ragged.

I was still working on the bow tie when I heard a hard
slap.

And I heard Zane’s startled cry of pain.

“Owwww!”

I spun around and saw Zane rubbing his jaw.

“Hey—that dummy
slapped
me!” he cried angrily.

He pointed to a red-haired dummy on the arm of the couch.

“I-I don’t
believe
it!” Zane exclaimed. “It swung its arm up, and it—it
slapped
me!”

Dan stood behind the couch. I saw a smile spread over his face. Then he burst
out laughing. “Get serious,” he told Zane. “That’s impossible.”

“You did it!” Zane accused my brother, still rubbing his jaw. “You moved the
dummy!”

“No way!” Dan backed away till he bumped the wall. “How could I? I was behind
the couch the whole time.”

I stepped quickly up to the couch. “Which dummy was it?” I demanded.

Zane pointed to a dummy with red hair and bright red freckles painted all
over his grinning face. “That guy.”

“Arnie,” I reported. “One of Dad’s first dummies.”

“I don’t care what his name is,” Zane snapped. “He slapped me!”

“But that’s dumb,” I insisted. “It’s just a ventriloquist’s dummy, Zane.
Here. Look.”

I picked Arnie up. The old dummy was heavier than I remembered. I started to
hand him to Zane. But my cousin backed away.

“Something weird is going on here,” Zane said, keeping his eyes on the dummy.
“I’m going to tell Uncle Danny.”

“No. Don’t tell Dad,” I pleaded. “Give us a break, Zane. It’ll get us in big
trouble.”

“Yeah. Don’t tell,” Dan chimed in. “The dummy probably just slipped or
something. You know. It fell over.”

“It reached up,” Zane insisted. “I saw it swing its arm and—”

He was interrupted by Mom’s voice from downstairs. “Hurry up, kids. Get down
here. We’re all waiting for you.”

“Coming!” I shouted. I dropped Arnie back onto the arm of the couch. He fell
into the dummy next to him. I left him like that and followed Dan and Zane to
the stairs.

I held Dan back and let Zane go down by himself. “What are you trying to
prove?” I angrily asked my brother. “That wasn’t funny.”

“Trina, I didn’t do it. I swear!” Dan claimed, raising his right hand. “I
swear!”

“So what are you saying?” I demanded. “That the dummy really reached up and
slapped him?”

Dan twisted his face. He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just know that I didn’t
do it. I didn’t swing that dummy’s arm.”

“Don’t be stupid,” I replied. “Of course you did.” I shoved my brother toward
the stairs.

“Hey—give me a break,” he muttered.

“You’re a total liar,” I told him. “You think you can scare Zane—and me.
But it isn’t worth it, Dan. We promised Dad, remember? Remember?”

He ignored me and started down the stairs.

I felt really angry. I knew that Dan had perched the dummy on top of the
bedroom door so that it would fall on Zane. And I knew that he had swung the
dummy’s arm to slap Zane.

I wondered how far Dan would go to frighten our cousin.

I knew I had to stop him. If Dan kept this up, he’d get us both grounded for
life. Or worse.

But what could I do?

I was still thinking about it in bed later that night. I couldn’t get to
sleep. I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about Dan and what a
liar he was.

Dummies are made of wood and cloth, I told myself. They don’t swing their
arms and slap people.

And they don’t get up and walk around the house and climb up onto doors
on their own. They don’t walk on their own….

They don’t…

I finally started to drift off to sleep when I heard light footsteps on my
bedroom carpet.

And then a hoarse whisper close to my ear:

“Trina… Trina…”

“Trina… Trina…”

The hoarse whisper—so near my ear—made me shoot straight up in bed.

I leaped to my feet. Pulled the covers with me. Lurched forward.

And nearly knocked Zane onto his back.

“Zane?”

He stumbled backwards. “Sorry!” he whispered. “I thought you were awake.”

“Zane!” I repeated. My heart thudded in my chest. “What are you
doing
in here?”

“Sorry,” he whispered, backing up some more. He stopped a few inches in front
of my dresser. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just—”

I held my hand over my heart. I could feel it start to slow back down to
normal. “Sorry I jumped out at you like that,” I told him. “I was half asleep, I
guess. And when you whispered my name…”

I clicked on the bed-table lamp. I rubbed my eyes and squinted at Zane.

He was wearing baggy blue pajamas. One pajama leg had rolled up nearly to
his knee. His blond hair had fallen over his face. He had such a frightened,
little-boy expression on his face. He looked about six years old!

“I tried to wake up Dad,” he whispered. “But he’s such a sound sleeper. I
kept knocking on his bedroom door and calling to him. But he didn’t hear me. So
I came in here.”

“What’s your problem?” I asked, stretching my arms over my head.

“I-I heard voices,” he stammered, glancing to the open bedroom door.

“Excuse me? Voices?” I pushed my hair back. Straightened my long nightshirt.
Studied him.

He nodded. “I heard voices. Upstairs. I mean, I
think
they were
upstairs. Funny voices. Talking very fast.”

I squinted at him. “You heard voices in the
attic?”

He nodded again. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure.”

“I’m pretty sure you were dreaming.” I sighed. I shook my head.

“No. I was wide awake. Really.” He picked up a little stuffed bear from my
dresser. He squeezed it between his hands.

“I never sleep very well in new places,” he told me. “I
never
sleep very well in this house!” He let out an unhappy
laugh. “I was wide awake.”

“There’s no one in the attic,” I said, yawning. I tilted my ear to the
ceiling. “Listen,” I instructed. “Silent up there. No voices.”

We both listened to the silence for a while.

Then Zane set down the stuffed bear. “Do you think I could have a bowl of
cereal?” he asked.

“Huh?” I gaped at him.

“A bowl of cereal always helps calm me down,” he said. An embarrassed smile
crossed his face. “Just a habit from when I was a kid.”

I squinted at my clock radio. It was a little after midnight. “You want a
bowl of cereal
now?”

He nodded. “Is that okay?” he asked shyly.

Poor guy, I thought. He’s really freaked out.

“Sure,” I said. “I’ll come down to the kitchen with you. Show you where
everything is.”

I found my flip-flops and slipped my feet into them. I keep them under my
bed. I don’t like walking barefoot on the floorboards in the hall. There are a
lot of nails that poke up from the floor.

Mom and Dad keep saying they’re going to buy carpet. But money is tight. I
don’t think carpet is tops on their list.

Zane appeared a little calmer. I smiled at him and led the way into the hall.

He’s not such a bad guy, I thought. He’s a little wimpy—but so what? I
decided to have a serious talk with Dan first thing in the morning. I planned to make Dan
promise
he wouldn’t pull any more scares on Zane.

The long hall was so dark, Zane and I both held onto the wall as we made our
way to the stairs. Mom and Dad used to keep a little night-light at the end of
the hall. But the bulb burned out, and they never replaced it.

Holding onto the banister, we made our way slowly down the steps. Pale light
from outside cast long blue shadows over the living room. In the dim light, our
old furniture rose up like ghosts around the room.

“This house always creeps me out,” Zane whispered, staying close by my side
as we crossed through the front room.

“I’ve lived here all my life, and sometimes I’m scared of it, too,” I
confessed. “Old houses make so many strange sounds. Sometimes I think I hear the
house groaning and moaning.”

“I really did hear voices,” Zane whispered.

We crept through the shadows to the kitchen. My flip-flops slapped on the
linoleum. Silvery moonlight washed through the curtains over the kitchen window.

I started to fumble on the wall for the light switch.

But I stopped when I saw the dark figure slumped at the kitchen table.

Zane saw him, too. I heard Zane gasp. He jerked back into the doorway.

“Dad? Are you still up?” I called. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

My hand found the light switch. I clicked on the kitchen light.

And Zane and I both let out a scream.

I recognized the red-and-white striped shirt. I didn’t even have to see the
face.

Rocky leaned over the table, his wooden head propped in his hands.

Zane and I crept closer to the table. I moved to the other side. The dummy
sneered at me. His glassy eyes were cold and cruel.

Such a nasty expression.

“How did
he
get down here?” Zane asked. He stared hard at the dummy,
as if expecting the dummy to answer.

“Only one way,” I murmured. “He sure didn’t walk.”

Zane turned to me. “You mean Dan?”

I sighed. “Of course. Who else? Mister Dumb Jokes.”

“But how did your brother know we’d be coming down to the kitchen tonight?”
Zane asked.

“Let’s go ask him,” I replied.

I knew Dan was awake. Probably sitting on the edge of his bed, waiting eagerly to hear us scream from the kitchen. Giggling
to himself. So pleased with himself.

So pleased that he broke his promise to Dad. And gave Zane and me a little
scare.

I balled both hands into tight fists. I could feel the anger rising in my
chest.

When I get really furious like that, I usually go to the back room and pound
the piano. I pound out a Sousa march or a hard, fast rock song. I pound the keys
till I start to calm down.

Tonight, I decided, I would pound my brother instead.

“Come on,” I urged Zane. “Upstairs.”

I took one last glance at Rocky, slouched over the kitchen table. The dummy
stared blankly back at me.

I really hate that dummy, I thought. I’m going to ask Dad to put him away in
a closet or a trunk.

I forced myself to turn away from the sneering, wooden face. Then I put both
hands on Zane’s shoulders and guided him back to the stairs.

“I’m going to tell Dan that we’re both fed up with his dumb jokes,” I
whispered to my cousin. “Enough is enough. We’ll make him promise to stop
leaving that dummy everywhere we go.”

Zane didn’t reply. In the dim light, I could see the grim expression on his
face.

I wondered what he was thinking about. Was he remembering his last visit to
our house? Was he remembering how Dan and I terrified him then?

Maybe he doesn’t trust me, either, I told myself.

We climbed the stairs and crept down the dark hallway to my brother’s room.

The door was half open. I pushed it open the rest of the way and stepped
inside. Zane kept close behind me.

I expected Dan to be sitting up, waiting for us. I expected to see him
grinning, enjoying his little joke.

Silvery moonlight flooded in through his double windows. From the doorway, I
could see him clearly. Lying on his side in bed. Covers up to his chin. Eyes
tightly closed.

Was he faking? Was he really awake?

“Dan,” I whispered. “Da-an.”

He didn’t move. His eyes didn’t open.

“Dan—I’m coming to
tickle
you!” I whispered. He could never keep a
straight face when I threatened him. Dan is
very
ticklish.