Broken (25 page)

He followed it and found Sam calling the mouse over to him. Sam wasn’t his real brother either. He had different birth parents. Grim smiled at him and noticed who sat next to him with metal cogs and parts laid out on the floor before her.

Rudy.

She was ten months older than Grim. That meant she was the oldest, although they were born in the same year.

As far as Grim was concerned, they were the same age. Rudy didn’t see it that way. And she often reminded him of it.

She sat and studied the parts in front of her. It looked like she was attempting to make a mechanical mouse just like Poppa had made. Except bigger.

After the incident that had cost Grim his friend, Rudy was bent on making another one.

Copycat.

He offered her as nice a smile as he could muster. She offered one back he knew was as fake as his. Grim moved along, leaving Sam to play with his sister.

When he got to the kitchen, there was yet another room occupied. This time it was Ellen. In a black dress with frilly lace and delicate shoes that were far too princess-like for Grim’s liking, she sat at the table with one of her dolls. She was Grim’s real sister.

“Hi, Ellen.”

Ellen smiled a toothy grin. At the age of six, she still had all her baby teeth. She held up the doll. Its head had been ripped off; and not cleanly at that.

Grim rolled his eyes. Ellen was the other female sibling in the house, and the closest thing to a serial killer among the lot.

“Whatcha doin’?” he asked with hesitation. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know.

“Sissy doesn’t have any blood,” Ellen said. There was a pout on her little mouth, as if she were disappointed to find that her doll had been lifeless all along.

“Dolls don’t have blood. They’re not alive.”

Ellen’s lips twisted. “Duh, I know that!” She then walked out of the kitchen, leaving the head behind.

Grim sighed, picked it up and idled back up the stairs.

This was going to be a very long summer.  No friends, nowhere to go, nothing to do. He was going to have himself a big box of boredom this year.

He walked past Rudy and Ellen’s room, with the mound of doll heads in the corner. He chucked Sissy’s head onto the growing pile and moved on.

He passed the twins’ door. It had a sign that read “No girls allowed.” Grim looked out their window. The two were still outside trying to lop each other’s heads off with sticks. Big ones.

In the room next door, Grim plopped onto his own bed and when he thought he was about to have a moment of peace, Sam came in. As usual, Sam’s hair was a mess and he was covered in dog hair. He was three years younger and looked almost identical to Rudy, except for the ridiculous pigtails. He also wore the same gigantic glasses as the rest of them. They obscured his freckled face, and he was constantly pushing them up because they would slide off his little nose. He was followed by Toby, their dog — although the Basset Hound seemed to be more Sam’s dog than anyone else’s. The thing followed him everywhere.

Grim heard the twins stream back inside. The door slammed behind them. He braced himself, waiting for what would follow.

“Grimwald!” shrieked a voice from downstairs.

There was one last complication to Grim Doyle’s life: Aunt Patrice. And that’s not ANT, like you’d pronounce the insect, but more like you are at the doctor’s office and he tells you to say AAAHHH while he jabs a popsicle stick down your throat. So that would be AAAHHHNT Patrice ― hold the gagging, please.

The woman was older than the hills and watched Grim like a hawk. She would often say things like:
Don’t run up and down the stairs; You can go outside, but stay where I can see you;
or worse
: Why don’t you put on this handsome blue suit and top hat?

Aunt Patrice was tall and spindly, and she smelled of mothballs. Her hair was tied back in a bun so tight Grim was sure the pressure must have been the cause for her frequent migraines. She also squinted a lot and Grim thought his Aunt might save her eyes the strain if she actually wore the glasses that hung around her long and slender, turkey-wattled neck.

“Grimwald, young gentlemen don’t slam doors!”

Grimwald
. He hated his name. And she was the only one who called him that. Even Rudy refrained from calling him by his full name, but then again, her full name was Rudolpha, so there was little room for mockery.

The others had strange names as well. Ellenova, Barnsworth, Bensworth, and Samsonite.

Grim rolled his eyes at his Aunt. He thought about calling out to say that it wasn’t him. He was upstairs and it was the back door that had slammed, but he knew what that would get him. She’d think he was being smart. And the result would be three days of washing clothes. By hand.

“Yes, Aunt Patrice!” he yelled.

“And a proper young gentleman doesn’t yell down the stairs!”

Grim groaned, wondering if he would ever please the crotchety old woman. She he’d been Poppa’s nanny once upon an ancient time.

Was she this obnoxious then, or did she get worse with age?

Toby barked at Sam, jarring Grim from his thoughts. Sam was busy with the cogs and gears in front of him and the dog just kept emptying his lungs in loud, echoing woofs. Grim sighed and walked out of the room.

Just some peace. A little quiet.

He looked at the trap door on the ceiling at the end of the hall. It led to the attic. A rope hung down.

Odd.

Usually it wasn’t in reach. But there it was, almost swaying back and forth, beckoning him.

Grim considered his options.

The dog was still barking, the twins were still dueling, Ellen was calling out for Rudy — something about a missing head, Aunt Patrice was snoring downstairs now — she could fall asleep at the drop of a coin, three of the house clocks were whistling that it was now eleven o’clock, four more were chiming, and Sam was now pounding on something with a little hammer.

It took almost no thought at all.

Grim marched forward and yanked on the rope.

The door popped open and the stairs glided down without a sound. He practically ran up and then pulled a lever that drew the steps back up again.

The door sealed. It didn’t shut out the sounds completely, but muffled them enough that he closed his eyes and relished the moment.

Quiet.

Sunlight penetrated through a small round window at the far end, warming his face. Grim removed his glasses.

More like goggles.

They were beastly things, akin to cutting the bottom of a pop bottle and gluing them to rubber bands. He could practically swim in them.

And they were dirty.

He wiped them on his shirt as he scanned the space around him. It was pretty much empty, with the exception of a large chest in one corner, over which sat the window. It was the perfect spot to perch and Grim did just that, leaning back against the wall. There was a lamp in one corner, but no plug to power it. A couple of small boxes sat in another corner, covered in dust.

Grim paused to wonder if he might get in trouble for being up here. Technically, their parents had never forbidden them to enter the attic. The few times Grim had gone up with his dads he had been instructed to make sure his glasses were on so the dust wouldn’t get in his eyes. Grim could see why, the place was coated with it.

Which made the footprints in front of him all the more obvious. They led only to the chest upon which he sat. They seemed to be fresh, high-heeled prints too.

Aunt Patrice.

Next to the door was the proof she’d been there. Her umbrella rested against the wall. She carried it everywhere.

“Never come unprepared, child,” Aunt Patrice would say. “You cannot get caught in the rain if you carry an umbrella.”

The woman was certifiably insane.

Grim crept off the chest and pulled it open. It made no sound and he sucked in his breath. It was filled with trinkets, ornaments and simple jewelry, among which were some stones covered in a metal encasing that looked like dead fingers clutching them.

He blinked his eyes. They itched from the dust. He put his glasses back on and everything in the chest suddenly disappeared.

“What the –”

He took his glasses off and then everything was there once more. He went back and forth, with and without his goggles, and the items disappeared and reappeared. He wondered why he had never noticed the items in the chest before, but realized that the few times he’d seen it open he’d been wearing his glasses.

It was a funny thing about the lot of them. They all wore them. Most people thought the children looked “interesting” in their goggles.

He hated that word.
Interesting.

Grim paused, listening for the sounds downstairs. The madness in the house continued. The twins barged through the house yelling at each other, Toby was still barking at Sam, and Ellen was yanking on the cords of her dolls to make them cry. It was like a symphony of wailing babies.

It was all overpowered by Aunt Patrice.

“Grimwald!” she called with her mouse-like shriek. “Come down. Pringles’s kitty litter needs changing and I can’t bend down very well. My migraine is acting up.”

Grim grumbled about how his Aunt used that excuse far too often and always seemed to select him for kitty duty.

See if she ever asks Rudy to do it
.

Grim slipped from the attic and marched downstairs to change the litter. He held his breath as he scooped it out. Aunt Patrice had a bad habit of feeding Pringles milk. The end result was not only extremely gooey, but far from fragrant.

Rudy came inside, saw what he was doing, and smiled. Mockingly.

Grim stuck his tongue out at her and then his fingers slipped into what he was picking up.

Ugh.

Rudy’s smile got bigger. Then she left to go upstairs.

Grim marched up after her.

But first. Washroom. Soap.

Lots of it.

Not wanting to seem too eager to run back to the attic, but feeling so impatient he wanted to explode, Grim waited while his Aunt was busy in the kitchen. Aunt Patrice would soon return to her nap and Grim had no choice but to wait.

Benny and Barny were in their room playing with some of Poppa’s gadgets, among which was a mechanical one-eyed robot. Rudy was sitting on her bed with Ellen, whispering to her while Ellen brushed the hair of the missing head from one of her dolls. Its eyes were open. Grim shook his head.

He went back to his own room where Sam sat on the floor.

Sam said nothing, but looked up briefly.

“Whatcha doin’?” Grim asked.

 “Machines,” he muttered.

It was always the same with Sam ― machines. Like Grim and Poppa, Sam was fascinated with mechanical devices. The biggest difference was that Sam was one most likely to take something apart to see how it worked where Grim was more likely to build things from out of his head. Pulleys, cogs, gears and metal pieces were strewn about the room.

“You going to stay inside all day?” he asked. Naturally, he didn’t want his plans interrupted.

“Maybe,” Sam said.

Grim almost always told Sam everything, but he wasn’t quite ready to share his discovery in the attic. And he
was
Rudy’s brother after all. He might tell her.

Sam then returned to his silent mangling of some device that Rudy had recently tried to build. It wasn’t bad, actually.

“Sam!” Rudy yelled at the door. Ellen was standing behind her. “I just built that!”

The pieces fell out of Sam’s little fingers and he hung his head.

Rudy pointed her finger at Grim. “You told him to do it!”

Grim shook his head. “No!”

“Yes, you did!”

“Get out of my room!” he yelled at her.

“It’s Sam’s room, too. I don’t have to get out, do I, Sam?”

Sam continued to look at his hands.

Grim smirked at her.
Score one for Grim
.

Rudy marched out of the room, her pigtails bouncing in fury. Ellen marched after her and the two headed downstairs and straight out the back door.

He looked at Sam. “It’s okay, Sam. I’ll fix it for you.”

Sam smiled, and then called Toby over. He, too, went outside.

That just left the twins.

Grim peered around the corner of their room. They were still busy with the robot. They were trying to teach it some kind of trick.

And Aunt Patrice was snoring in the front room.

Excellent.

Grim decided to take the risk. He yanked on the rope and the stairs glided down once more. He leapt up the steps and ran over to the chest and whipped off his goggles.

The colors of the stones were brilliant, but Grim was stumped as to what sort of stones they might be, especially with those creepy fingers clutching them. He had studied different types of minerals for a science project once, and these were nothing like what he had read about.

He lost track of time as he examined them, trying to sort out if they had any value.

Eventually, determining that they likely didn’t, he arranged them in a circle; green, yellow, orange, red, purple, blue, and black. Grim leaned in to have a closer look when there was a heavy thud at the front door. Aunt Patrice’s blood-curdling voice shrieked from downstairs.

“Grimwald! Get the door!” she called in a loud clear voice. It wasn’t muffled. Which meant —

He turned to look at the stairs.

Gah!

Rudy was standing there watching him. The twins, Sam, and Ellen were all with her. As Grim tried to stand, he put his hand into the circle of stones.

There was a swirl of color and some strange symbols that circled about him.

And he now stood in a forest of crooked, gnarled trees with black bark that stretched to the sky.

The attic was gone.

The chest was gone.

And Grimwald was alone.

More information at
davidhburton.com

Excerpt from The Second Coming