After Dark (4 page)

“Let me guess,” I said. “He fell off a ladder? Off the roof? Out a window?”

“No, he died of a heart attack in a Denny's restaurant about one hundred miles away. In the end, some second cousin inherited the house and put it up for sale without even looking at the place. As a result, the Holscomb family got it for a great price. It was a killer deal,” he added with a smirk.

“Then the Holscombs found the chest, the dolls leaped out and slaughtered the family, yada yada yada,” I said. “I think I've seen this movie three or four times.”

“No, actually —” Miles started, and then there was a knock on the front door.

I turned to answer it, but Miles grabbed my arm.

“Wait,” he said. “Check who it is.”

“Be my guest,” I said, stepping back.

Miles approached the door cautiously. “Who's there?” he called, in a slightly trembling voice.

“It's Sheriff Dutton. Is that you, Miles?”

“If you're Sheriff Dutton, what's the number on your squad car?”

“Stop playing games with me, Miles, and open the door!”

Miles turned to me, nodded and slipped back into the sitting room.

I opened the door.

Dutton was standing outside, scowling. He was a tall man with wavy brown hair and a square jaw. When he realized I wasn't Miles, he lost the scowl and smiled, flashing some seriously white teeth.

“Hello, there. I'm Sheriff Dutton,” he said. “May I come in?”

“Sure,” I said. “I'm Charlie.”

“Nice to meet you, Charlie,” he said, shaking my hand. “Where's Miles?”

“Hello, Sheriff,” Miles said, stepping into the foyer.

“Time to go,” Dutton said, and started toward him.

“So sorry to bother you, Sheriff Dutton,” Mom said, hustling down the stairs. She'd changed into a T-shirt and jeans.

“No bother,” Dutton said. “It's a pleasure to meet you in person, Mrs. Autumn.”

“Ms. Autumn,” she said, shaking his hand.

“I was hoping I could introduce myself under more pleasant circumstances,” he said.

“That would have been nice, but this young man seems to believe that there are monsters chasing him.”

Dutton shook his head. “Miles is our resident conspiracy nut. A month ago he called me about a UFO sighting out at Victor Opal's new resort.”

“UFO?” I said.

“New resort?” Mom asked.

“That's right,” he said. “Mr. Opal is building a five-star resort, golf course and whatnot, a few miles outside of town.”

“I wasn't aware of that,” Mom said, looking concerned.

“I wouldn't worry about it,” Dutton reassured her, smiling. “We get our fair share of highfalutin folks in Rolling Hills, but there'll always be people coming into town who are more interested in staying at a cozy inn than some showy resort.”

“I hope so,” Mom said.

“I know so,” Dutton said, “and if you folks are going to get this place up and running, you'll need some sleep. Let's hit the road, Miles.”

“It's not safe out there, Sheriff. You've got to listen to me. I saw Mr. Baxter and his wife chasing —”

“Whoa, whoa,” Dutton said, grabbing Miles's elbow and leading him toward the door. “These folks don't need to hear it. You can explain everything to me on the ride back home.”

“But —” Miles started.

“Good evening, folks,” Dutton said, putting on his hat with one hand and dragging Miles out with the other. “Sorry for the bother.”

Mom and I followed him onto the porch and watched him escort Miles down the gravel walk and over to his cruiser, which was parked behind the truck.

“Lock your doors!” Miles yelled before Dutton could stuff him into the backseat.

“Ignore him!” Dutton called. “And welcome to Rolling Hills!”

“I don't see any reason to invite Miles back. Do you, Charlie?” Mom said, as Dutton backed out of the driveway.

“I don't know — he seemed to know a lot about antique dolls,” I said, watching the taillights disappear.

“Excuse me?” she said, and that's when a couple of headlights appeared along the road out front, then a car peeled into the driveway, kicking up a cloud of dust.

“Expecting visitors?” I asked, as the car came to a stop behind Mom's truck.

“No,” she said, sounding a little shaky. Through the dust and the dark, I heard two car doors open and then thump shut.

“Who's that?” I asked, feeling a little shaky myself.

Two silhouettes emerged from the dust, moving toward the house.

“Um …” Mom started, and then a familiar voice called out.

“Yo!”

“Is that …” Mom said, squinting. “Is that Johnny?”

Johnny's my older brother. He graduated from Choke two years ago and should have gone straight to Yale. Instead, he decided to backpack around the world. At some point during his stay in Italy, he got hired as a model. While he was strutting around on catwalks, looking pretty, a TV director “discovered” him and cast him as the star of a new show called
Jaysin Night, Vampyre Hunter
. He plays an orphaned teenager, trained in kung fu by Chinese monks, who is searching for his long-lost father. The twist, of course, is that his father is a vampire, which is why he left him at the orphanage in the first place. Shockingly, it's a huge hit.

While Johnny was hugging Mom, the other person from the car walked up to me and held out her hand. She looked about my age, with red hair and green eyes. She was slim, but not slight, and was smiling at me while I stared. (I'll admit, I might have been a little smitten.)

“I'm Elizabeth,” she said.

“And I'm pleased to meet you,” I said.

She laughed, I laughed (I didn't know why), and we were about to shake hands when Johnny scooped me up from behind and squeezed me into a bear hug of my own.

“I'm so stoked to see you again, bro!”

“I'm tapping out, Johnny,” I wheezed. “I can't breathe.”

“You haven't changed a bit,” he said, letting me down.

“Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend, Johnny?” Mom asked, smiling at Elizabeth.

“Oh snap. Right,” he said. “Mom, this is Elizabeth. Elizabeth, this is my mom and this is my best bro, Charlie.”

“You can call me Claire,” Mom said, shaking Elizabeth's hand.

“You can call me Mr. Fantastic,” I said. “And for the record, I'm his only brother.”

“Watch out for Charlie,” Johnny said, slapping me on the back. “He won't quit.”

“Is Elizabeth involved with the show?” Mom asked.

“No, Ma. She picked me up.”

“What?”

“He was on the side of the road,” Elizabeth added.

“Excuse me?” Mom asked.

“I drove here, Ma.”

“Not on your motorcycle. You know I hate that thing, Jonathan. You're going to kill yourself one of these days.”

“It was smooth sailing until a couple of crazies ran onto the highway just outside of town. I managed to swerve onto the shoulder, but I blew out my back tire. Would've had to walk the rest of the way if Elizabeth hadn't stopped to give me a lift.”

“Whoa, hold up a minute,” I said, turning to Elizabeth. “You picked him up on the side of the road? In the dark?”

“Sure, bro,” Johnny said. “It happens.”

“Not in real life it doesn't,” I said. “Maybe on
Jaysin Night, Vampyre Hunter
, but in real life girls driving alone, at night, don't stop and pick up strangers along the highway.”

“You're Jaysin Night?” Elizabeth said, staring up at Johnny. “I can't believe I didn't recognize you.”

“Well, he looks a lot smaller on TV,” I said.

“What happened to your motorcycle?” Mom asked.

“Relax, everything is copacetic, Ma. Elizabeth's dad is going to take care of things.”

“My dad owns the garage in town. He's going to have someone pick it up and fix the tire. Johnny can get it tomorrow afternoon — but only if I get an autograph,” she added.

“You bet,” Johnny said, flashing his Hollywood smile.

“What's your father's name?” Mom asked.

“Victor Opal.”

“I hear he's building a new resort.”

“Rolling Hills is getting popular again,” Elizabeth said.

“I hope so,” Mom said, glancing back at the inn. “I'd love to invite you in, but we're just finishing up the renovations, and I'm afraid the cupboards are bare at the moment.”

“That's not true,” I said. “We have a bottle of mustard we could share and a few slices of cold vegetarian pizza.”

“Actually, it's vegan pizza,” Mom said. “Lilith's gone vegan.”

“She's gone a lot of other things, too,” I added.

“That's all right,” Elizabeth said. “It's late, and I really need to get going. It was nice meeting you.”

“Give me a call when you get tired of listening to Johnny's stories about being awesome.”

“Sure, Charlie,” she said, and turned to leave.

Johnny followed her back to her car, which I could now see was a Porsche, although I couldn't quite make out the color in the dark. They said a few things, and then he came back carrying a backpack and his motorcycle helmet.

“I didn't think you were coming until next week,” Mom said.

“Shooting wrapped up early,” he said, “and I wanted to surprise you.”

“That's sweet, and I'd love to hear more about your near-death experience, but I'm exhausted, and we've got a full day of work ahead of us tomorrow. We'll catch up in the morning,” Mom said, heading inside.

“You bet, Ma,” Johnny said. “I could use a little shut-eye.”

“Yeah, I'm feeling a little tired, too,” I said, stretching.

“That's impossible, Charlie,” Mom said. “You spent the entire day asleep in the truck.”

“It's been a hard week.”

“How'd this year's Olympiad go?” Johnny asked.

“It ended abruptly.”

“Show Johnny where the pizza is, and then show him up to his room,” Mom said. “It's right across the hall from yours. I'm going back to bed. I'm dead on my feet.”

“Sure thing, Mom. I might even dip into that bottle of mustard while I wait.”

“You kill me, bro,” Johnny said, as we headed for the kitchen. “You kill me.”

Saturday, 8:05 a.m.

I woke up to the sound of birds squawking. I figured there must have been about a hundred of them sitting outside my window. I rolled over in bed and tried to go back to sleep, but they wouldn't let up. It was like having an alarm clock with no snooze button. After a few minutes, I got up, grumbled my way over to the window and pulled up the wooden blinds. Instead of a flock of birds, there were only three little gray feather-balls outside, standing on the edge of the roof that was overhanging the porch below. I pounded on the window, and they turned and looked up at me with their black eyes. I pounded on the glass again. They stood their ground and stared.

“I'm trying to get some sleep in here!” I shouted.

They chirped at each other a couple of times, just to irritate me, and then flew away. I watched them flap across the front yard and land in one of the huge trees growing on the other side of the lawn. Then they went back to their squawking.

I closed the blinds and was making my way back to bed when Johnny burst in.

“Rise and shine, bro!” he cried, stomping across the room and throwing open the blinds again. “Let's get some grub!”

“It's summer vacation,” I said, flopping into my bed. “Why are we waking up with the freaking birds?”

“Up with the birds? You kill me, Chuck. The birds have been awake for, like, four hours. It's eight in the a.m.”

“Get me some takeout and leave it outside my door. I don't do breakfast in the summertime. I do brunch, like any civilized human being.”

“Get up, Charlie, we've got work to do,” Mom said, rushing in. “This is the start of our new life.”

“I liked our old life,” I said, putting the pillow over my head. “We stayed at resorts with room service, we slept in and we didn't renovate broken-down inns.”

“Get dressed,” she said, pulling the pillow away from me, “or we're going to carry you down to the truck in your underwear.”

“Come on,” Johnny said. “I haven't seen you since Christmas, bro. We have some serious catching up to do. Plus, I don't want to see you in your underwear. Lilith's pajamas were weird enough.”

“We can do it after 10:00 a.m.,” I said. “Now, make like a tree and scram!”

“It's make like a tree and
leave
, bro.”

“It's too early to argue about insults. Just go!”

“Can you give us a minute alone, Johnny?” Mom asked.

“You bet, Ma,” he said and left.

Mom closed the door behind him.

“Why can't we just check into a hotel?” I groaned. “At least until the renovations are done. I mean, you're not serious about
us
fixing up this place, right? I can barely tie my own shoes.”

“We can't afford it, Charlie,” Mom said, sitting down on the end of the bed.

“Huh?”

“There's no more money. It's all gone.”

“What? That's impossible,” I said, sitting up. “Dad's a bestselling author. He's famous. I mean, he spends all his time giving those self-help, feel-good conferences to rich schmucks. He's on a round-the-world honeymoon with Mindy, for goodness' sake. The money can't just disappear overnight — we have maids and cooks to pay. They have to make a living, you know.”

“First of all, we didn't lose it overnight. Your dad made a lot of bad investments, he wasn't paying his taxes and there were a whole bunch of shady deals that I'm not even going to get into. Trust me, it's all gone. And, for the record, he's not on his honeymoon. Mindy left him when she found out about the money problems. Now he's kind of on the run, I guess. It's bound to come out in the news any day.”

“But you must have money from the divorce?”

“Not as much as you'd think,” she said. “And I sunk most of it into this place. So it's kind of important for you to get up and help out. This inn is all we have left.”

“What about your family's money?”

“My dad was a softy and not very savvy when it came to business. The money he inherited from my grandfather kind of slipped through his fingers. If you want a new phone, then you're going to earn it.”

“That's harsh, Ma.”

“That's reality, Charlie.”

“Do Johnny and Lilith know?”

“I'll tell Johnny today,” she said, “but I don't want you to tell Lilith yet. She idolizes your father, and I don't know how she's going to take this.”

“Not well,” I said, sitting up. “Does this mean I won't be going back to Choke?”

“I'm afraid so.”

“Can I burn my uniforms?”

“I wouldn't. You'll need something to wear until your clothes arrive.”

Saturday, 8:22 a.m.

I threw on a wrinkled white shirt, wrinkly khakis, a pair of slightly stinky brown socks and my student handbook–approved dress shoes, then grabbed my toothbrush and headed for the bathroom at the end of the hall.

The bathroom renovations were only half done. Most of the yellow-white tiles on the floor were cracked, and the old-fashioned tub, which had paws on the ends of its stubby legs, looked grimy, but the sink and toilet were shiny and new. I brushed my teeth, did my business and headed downstairs.

Lilith's door was closed as I strolled back down the hallway, but I could imagine her room being so neat and tidy it would be impossible to tell a human being had ever been inside. Johnny's door was wide open, on the other hand, and it was so messy it looked like he'd been attacked by something during the night. His bag was lying in the middle of the floor, clothes spilling out of it, the sheets and blankets from the bed were crumpled in balls on the floor, and two pillows were propped at the bottom of the door, apparently to keep it open. It was so cluttered, I couldn't even guess what hotel room Mom was trying to copy.

At the top of the stairs, I considered sliding down the banister. It felt solid enough, but I didn't want to risk it collapsing, so I went down the old-fashioned way. I was going to go straight outside but stopped and glanced into the drawing room instead. There were two large windows along the front, with a variety of sofas and chairs lining the walls, and in the far corner was a baby grand piano. The wall to my immediate left was covered by a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, only the shelves didn't contain books — there were antique dolls on them, all sitting in rows, staring into the room with their shiny, empty eyes. Most of them were wearing frilly dresses and had tiny, puckered smiles and abnormally long eyelashes. Some of them had fancy hats, with bows and ribbons hanging off the brims, propped on their heads. How long had they all been sitting there, staring? Twenty years? Fifty? I was just adding
get rid of dolls
to the top of my mental to-do list when my stomach grumbled.

It was hot when I stepped outside, and a million crickets were chirruping in the long grass, almost drowning out the squawking of the birds that were back outside my bedroom window.

“Hurry up, bro!” Johnny yelled from the truck. “I'm starving.”

Johnny was in the front, and Lilith shuffled over as I squeezed into the back.

“There must be a million crickets in the grass. That sound could drive a man batty,” I said, sliding in.

“They're cicadas, not crickets,” Lilith said.

“Whatever. They're bugs and they're loud,” I said, as Mom backed out of the driveway. “By the way, that's some collection of dolls in the drawing room.”

“They belonged to my great-grandmother. They're extremely valuable.”

“They're extremely creepy,” Johnny said.

“They're antiques.”

“They're still creepy, Ma,” Johnny added, and we started down the street.

Elm Street is one of those old country roads that looks like it's just about to be overrun by the trees on either side and is covered in long cracks that run through it like veins.

“In episode seven of
Vampyre Hunter
,” Johnny said as we drove along, “I had to deal with a horde of possessed dolls. By the time we wrapped up shooting, I was totally freaked out.”

“I'd be careful, Johnny,” I said. “According to Miles Van Helsing, those things are vicious.”

“Miles Van who?” Johnny asked.

“Forget it,” Mom said. “Great-grandma Autumn's dolls aren't possessed.”

“They've been sitting there, alone, for a long time,” I said. “Maybe they've, you know, awoken. No wonder Hal walks around with a shotgun.”

“You might be right, bro,” Johnny said. “The research dude on our show says there's a lot of weird stuff that goes on in the world that can never be explained, like frogs raining down or people randomly bursting into flames.”

“Are you still wearing your uniform?” Lilith asked, cutting into our conversation. For the record, Lilith was decked out in skin-tight black running pants, a high-tech black running shirt and black and yellow sneakers with individual toes.

“Lilith, unlike you, I don't strut around in thermodynamic pajamas or a running outfit that looks like it was built for Catwoman. Plus, Sterling forces me to wear a uniform when I arrive at Choke, I'm forced to wear it every stinking day that I'm there, and he makes sure I'm wearing one when I leave, so I don't see the point in packing civilian clothes.”

“You pack them because, eventually, you'll go on summer vacation,” she said. “Like Dad said in his book
The Way of the Wise
, the prudent warrior always plans ahead.”

“Sometimes the prudent warrior doesn't have a strong grasp of reality,” I mumbled.

“You're the one talking about dolls coming to life, Charlie. I'd say you're the one losing your grasp of reality.”

“Reality can be surprising,” I said, “and sometimes people aren't what you think they are, Lilith.”

“Charlie,” Mom snapped, “that's enough.”

“Right … fine,” I said, biting my lip, “I guess I wasn't expecting to be exiled to the edge of the world for the summer without access to my clothes.” A big part of me wanted to tell Lilith that Dad wasn't the glowing superhero she thought he was, but I'd promised Mom that I'd keep it under wraps, so I kept my mouth shut and looked out the window.

“You look ridiculous,” Lilith mumbled.

“Guilty as charged,” I said. “But at least my teeth are clean.”

“Did you use the sink in the upstairs bathroom? You know there's something wrong with the plumbing, right? Mom thinks the water might be contaminated,” Lilith said.

“Contaminated?” I asked, running my tongue along my teeth. “Mom, you didn't tell me that.”

“It's not contaminated,” Mom said, coming to a stop sign at the end of Elm Street. “There was something wonky with the water pressure, so I called the plumber, and he's coming this afternoon. The pipes are pretty old, and until he figures it out, we'll have to avoid having showers. We probably shouldn't drink or brush our teeth with it either. I'll buy some bottled water today.”

“I already brushed my teeth,” I said, and tried to roll down the window in the back, but it wouldn't open.

“Mom, undo the child-lock. I need to spit.”

“Relax,” Mom said, taking a right off Elm Street and starting down Oak Avenue. “It's nothing to worry about. Plus, we'll be there in a minute.”

“Contaminated is a worry, Mom. Let me roll down the window. I need to spit.”

“I'm not driving into town with you spitting out the window, Charlie.”

By now, houses were appearing on our left and right. They were big old country houses with front porches, huge lawns and white picket fences.

“Please, I think I'm dying back here.”

“Didn't you say there was toilet water mixed up with the sink water, Mom?” Lilith asked.

“Do you want me to throw up?” I said, turning to Lilith. “Because I'll throw up all over you if that's what you want.”

“That's not true, Charlie,” Mom said.

“In episode nine of
Vampyre Hunter
, I ended up in a town where all the residents had been changed into zombies because of contaminated drinking water,” Johnny chimed in. “I got to use a crossbow in that episode. It was totally rad.”

“Open the window!” I cried.

“We're almost there,” Mom snapped, as we reached a three-way intersection at the bottom of Oak Avenue. Across the street, directly in front of us, was a garage.

“There she is,” Johnny said, pointing at a black and red motorcycle that looked like it could probably go about a thousand miles an hour. “I guess they haven't had a chance to fix it,” he mumbled.

“I really need to spit,” I said, as we made a right onto Church Street, which was obviously the main drag in Rolling Hills, judging by the number of people who were already milling around. “I need to purge!”

“We're almost there,” Mom said.

“Where is there?” I asked.

“Here,” she said, and pulled up to the curb next to a restaurant called Romero's.

I threw open the door, jumped out and started spitting like crazy all over the sidewalk.

Saturday, 8:32 a.m.

Romero's was housed in the same type of brick-front, two-story building that lined both sides of Church Street. Sure, there were little differences: the awning at Romero's had white and green stripes and the one next door had yellow and red stripes, and some of the places didn't have awnings at all, but by and large, Church Street consisted of the same neat and tidy building repeated again and again.

“It hasn't changed a bit since I was a kid,” Mom said, getting out of the truck.

Church Street was about five blocks long, and at the end was a red brick church, with a tall white steeple jutting, like a giant needle, straight into the sky. Black iron lampposts arced over the street, and the occasional maple tree stood here and there. The sidewalks looked clean enough to eat off of. Well, they were clean enough to eat off of until I spat all over them.