40 - Night of the Living Dummy III (8 page)

“Dad!” I cried breathlessly. “Dad—look!”

“What on earth—!” Dad exclaimed.

“Dad—it’s alive! The dummy is alive!” I shrieked.

“Huh?” Squinting through his glasses, Dad lowered his gaze to the dummy on
the floor.

The dummy sprawled lifelessly on its back beside Dan. One arm was twisted
beneath its back. Both legs were bent in two.

The mouth hung open in its painted grin. The eyes stared blankly at the
ceiling.

“It
is
alive!” Dan insisted. “It really is!”

Dad stared down at the still, silent dummy.

“The dummy picked up Rocky!” Dan declared in a high, excited voice. “He said
his name was Slappy. He picked up Rocky. He was carrying him downstairs.”

Dad
tsk-tsked
and shook his head. “Give it up, Dan,” he murmured
angrily. “Just stop it right now.” He raised his eyes to Dan, then to me. “I
knew you two were the troublemakers.”

“But, Dad—” I protested.

“I’m not an idiot,” Dad snapped, scowling at me. “You can’t expect me to
believe a dumb story about a dummy coming to life and carrying another dummy
around. Have you both lost your minds entirely?”

“It’s true,” Dan insisted.

We both gazed down at Slappy. He sure didn’t look alive. For a moment, I had the frightening feeling that I’d dreamed the
whole scene.

But then I remembered something. “I have proof!” I cried. “Dad, I can prove
to you that Dan and I aren’t lying.”

Dad rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m so tired,” he moaned. “It’s been such a
long, horrible day. Please. Give me a break, Trina.”

“But I took some pictures!” I told him. “I have pictures of Slappy carrying
Rocky!”

“Trina, I’m warning you—” Dad started.

But I spun away, searching for my camera. Where was it? Where?

It took me a few seconds to spot it on the floor against the wall back by the
couch. I hurried across the room to grab it.

And stopped halfway.

The back of the camera—it had sprung open. The film was exposed. The
pictures were ruined.

The camera must have flown out of my hand when I tried to tackle Slappy, I
realized. I picked it up and examined it sadly.

No pictures. No proof.

I turned back to find Dad scowling at me. “No more wasting my time, Trina.
You two are grounded until further notice. I’m so disgusted with both of you.
Your mother and I will think of other punishments after your cousin leaves.”

Then Dad waved a hand at Slappy and Rocky. “Put them away. Right now. And
stay out of the attic. Stay away from my dummies. That’s all I have to say to you. Good
night.”

Dad turned away sharply and stomped down the stairs.

I glanced at Dan and shrugged. I didn’t know what to say.

My heart was pounding. I was so angry. So upset. So
hurt.
My chest
felt about to explode.

I bent down to pick up Slappy.

The dummy winked at me.

His ugly grin grew wider. And then he puckered his red lips and made
disgusting, wet kissing sounds.

“Don’t touch me, slave,” Slappy growled.

I gasped and jumped back. I still couldn’t believe this was happening. I
wrapped my arms around myself to stop my body from trembling.

“You—you really are alive?” Dan asked softly.

“You bet your soft head I am!” the dummy roared.

“What do you want?” I cried. “Why are you doing this to us? Why are you
getting us in all this trouble?”

The ugly grin spread over his face. “If you treat me nice, slaves, maybe I
won’t get you in any more trouble. Maybe you’ll get lucky.” He tapped his head
and added, “Knock on wood.”

“We’re not your slaves!” I insisted.

He tossed back his head and let out a dry laugh. “Who’s the dummy here?” he
cried. “You or me?”

“You carried Rocky downstairs all those times?” Dan asked. I could see that
my brother was having a hard time believing this, too.

“You don’t think that bag of kindling can move on his own, do you?” Slappy
sneered. “I had some fun with that ugly guy. I put him at the scene of the
crimes to throw you off the track. To keep you slaves guessing.”

“And you smashed Zane’s camera and ruined the dinner party?” I demanded.

He narrowed his eyes to evil slits. “I’ll do much worse if you slaves don’t
obey me.”

I could feel the anger rising through my body. “You—you’re going to ruin
everything!” I screamed at him. “You’re going to ruin our lives! You’re going to
keep us from going to camp this summer!”

Slappy snickered. “You won’t be going to camp. You’ll be staying home to take
good care of me!”

And then I exploded.

“Nooooo!” I uttered a long wail of protest.

I grabbed his head in both hands. I started to tug.

I remembered his head had been split in two when Dad found him. I planned to
pull his head apart—to split it in two again!

He kicked his legs frantically and thrashed his arms.

His heavy shoes kicked at my legs.

But I held on tight. Pulling. Pulling. Struggling to pull his head apart.

“Let me try! Let me try!” Dan called.

I let out a sigh and dropped the dummy to the floor. “It’s no use,” I told Dan. “Dad did too good a job. It’s glued tight.”

Slappy scrambled to his feet. He shook his head. “Thanks for the head
massage, slave! Now rub my back!” He laughed, an ugly dry laugh that sounded
more like a cough.

Dan stared at the dummy in wide-eyed horror. “Trina—what are we going to
do?” he cried, his voice just above a whisper.

“How about a game of Kick the Dummy Down the Stairs?” Slappy suggested,
leering at us. “We’ll take turns being the dummy. You can go first!”

“We—we have to do something!” Dan stammered. “He’s a
monster!
He’s
evil! We have to get rid of him!”

But how? I wondered.

How?

And then I had an idea.

Slappy must have read my thoughts. He turned and started to run.

But I dove fast—and wrapped my hands around his skinny legs.

He let out a harsh, angry cry as I began twisting his legs around each other,
struggling to tie them in a knot.

He swung an arm. The wooden hand caught me on the ear.

But I held on.

“Dan—grab his arms! Hurry!”

My brother moved quickly. Slappy tried to bat him away. But Dan ducked low.
And when he came up, he grabbed Slappy’s wrists and held on.

“Let me go, slaves!” the dummy rasped. “Let me go now. You’ll be sorry!
You’ll pay!”

I saw the fear on Dan’s face.

Slappy swung a hand free. He tried to swipe at Dan’s throat.

But Dan reached out and grabbed onto the loose arm again.

I felt eyes on me. I glanced up to see the other dummies around the room.
They appeared to watch us struggle. A silent, still audience.

I pulled a red kerchief off a dummy’s neck. And I stuffed it into Slappy’s
mouth to keep him quiet.

“Downstairs! Hurry!” I instructed my brother.

The dummy twisted and squirmed, trying to break free.

But I had his legs tied around each other. And Dan kept a tight grip on his
arms.

We began making our way to the attic stairs. “Where are we taking him?” Dan
demanded.

“Outside,” I replied. The dummy bucked and squirmed. I nearly dropped him.

“In our pajamas?” Dan asked.

I nodded and began backing down the stairs. Slappy struggled hard to get
free. I nearly lost my balance and toppled over backwards.

“We’re not going far,” I groaned.

Somehow we made it all the way downstairs. I had to let go with one hand to
open the front door. Slappy bucked his knees, trying to untangle his legs.

I pushed the door open. Grabbed the legs again.

Dan and I carried the squirming dummy outside.

A cold, clear night. A light, silvery frost over the grass. A half moon high
over the trees.

“Ohhh.” I let out a moan as my bare feet touched the frozen grass.

“It’s c-cold!” Dan stammered. “I can’t hold on much longer.”

I saw him shiver. The front lawn suddenly darkened as clouds rolled over the
moon. My legs trembled. The damp cold seeped through my thin pajamas.

“Where are we taking him?” Dan whispered.

“Around to the back.”

Slappy kicked hard. But I held on tightly.

Something scampered past my bare feet. I heard scurrying footsteps over the
frosty ground.

A rabbit? A raccoon?

I didn’t stop to see. Gripping Slappy’s ankles with both hands, I backed up.
Backed along the side of the house.

“My feet are numb!” Dan complained.

“Almost there,” I replied.

Slappy uttered hoarse cries beneath the kerchief that gagged his mouth. His
round eyes rolled wildly. Again, he tried to kick free.

Dan and I hauled him to the back of the yard. By the time we got to the old
well, my feet were frozen numb, too. And my whole body shook from the cold.

“What are we going to do?” Dan asked in a tiny voice.

The clouds rolled away. Shadows pulled back. The silvery moonlight lit up the
old stone well.

“We’re going to toss him down the well,” I groaned.

Dan stared at me, surprised.

“He’s evil,” I explained. “We have no choice.”

Dan nodded.

We lifted Slappy onto the smooth stones at the top of the well. He bucked and
kicked. He tried to scream through his gag.

I saw Dan shiver again.

“It’s a wooden dummy,” I told him. “It isn’t a person. It’s an evil wooden
dummy.”

We both shoved hard at the same time.

The dummy slid off the stone wall and dropped into the well.

Dan and I both waited until we heard the splash from far below.

Then we ran side by side back to the house.

He’s gone! I thought gratefully. Joyfully. The evil thing is gone for good.

I slept really well that night. And I didn’t dream about dummies.

The next morning, Dan and I met in the hall. We both were smiling. We felt so
good.

I was actually singing as I followed Dan down the stairs for breakfast.

Dad greeted us at the kitchen door with an angry frown. “What is
he
doing down here?” Dad demanded.

He pointed into the kitchen.

Pointed at the breakfast table.

Pointed to Slappy, sitting at the breakfast table, grinning his ugly painted
grin, his eyes wide and innocent.

Dan’s mouth dropped open.

I let out a sharp cry.

“Don’t act stunned. Just get him out of here,” Dad said angrily. “And why is
he all wet? Did you have him out in the rain?”

I glanced out the kitchen window. Lightning flashed through a dark gray sky.
Sheets of rain pounded the glass. Thunder rumbled overhead.

“Not a very nice morning,” Uncle Cal said, stepping up behind Dan and me.

“I’ve got coffee ready,” Dad told him.

“I see your friend here beat us down to breakfast,” Uncle Cal said, motioning
to Slappy.

The dummy’s grin seemed to grow wider.

“Get him out of here, Trina,” Dad repeated sharply. “Anyone want pancakes
this morning?” He moved to the cabinet and started searching for a frying pan.

“Make a few extra for me. I’m starving,” Uncle Cal said. “I’ll go see if Zane is up.” He turned and hurried out of the
kitchen.

Dad leaned into the cabinet, banging pots and pans, searching for the one he
always used for pancakes.

“Dad, I have to tell you something,” I said softly. I couldn’t hold it in any
longer. I had to tell Dad the truth. I had to tell him the whole story.

“Dad, Slappy is evil,” I told him. “He’s alive, and he’s evil. Dan and I
threw him down the well last night. We had to get rid of him. But now—he’s
back. You have to help us, Dad. We have to get rid of him—now.”

I took a deep breath and let it out. It felt so good to get the story off my
chest.

Dad pulled his head from the cabinet and turned to me. “Did you say
something, Trina? I was making such a racket, I couldn’t hear you.”

“Dad, I-I—” I stammered.

“Get that dummy
out
of here—now!” Dad shouted. He stuck his head
back into the cabinet. “How can a whole frying pan disappear into thin air?”

I let out a disappointed sigh. A loud burst of thunder made me jump.

I motioned with my head for Dan to help me. We lifted Slappy off the chair. I
held him around the waist, as far away from me as possible.

His gray suit was sopping wet. Water dripped off his black leather shoes.

We were halfway up the attic stairs when Slappy blinked and let out a soft
chuckle. “Nice try, slaves,” he rasped. “But give up. I’m never going away.
Never!”

What a dreary morning.

Rain pounded the windows. Lightning crackled through the charcoal-gray sky.
Thunder boomed so close it rocked the house.

I felt as if the storm were inside my head. As if the heavy, heavy storm
clouds were weighing me down. As if the thunder erupted inside my brain,
drowning out my thoughts.

Dan and I slumped on the couch in the den, watching the storm through the
Venetian blinds over the big window. We were trying to come up with an idea, a
way to get rid of Slappy.

The room was chilly. Damp, cold air leaked through the old window. I rubbed
the sleeves of my sweater, trying to warm myself.

We were alone in the house. Mom, Dad, Uncle Cal, and Zane had gone into town.

“I tried to tell Dad,” I said. “You heard me, Dan. I tried to tell him about
Slappy. But he didn’t hear me.”

“Dad wouldn’t believe you anyway, Trina,” Dan replied glumly. He sighed. “Who
would
believe it?”

“How can a wooden dummy come to life?” I asked, shaking my head. “How?”

And then I remembered.