Don't Stay Up Late (19 page)

“I just need to know some things,” I insisted.

But she covered her ears with her hands. “I can't talk,” she said through gritted teeth. “I can't talk. He's a demon. He's a monster.”

I gasped. “You know Nate? Nate Goodman? Do you?”

“He's a demon!” she cried. “He's my nightmare. He's a demon!”

A stab of cold at the back of my neck froze me in place. “Nate—?” I gasped.

Joy stood red-faced, her hands still pressed tightly over her ears.

“Please, Joy,” I begged. “Tell me—”

“He's a demon.”

The door swung open, and two nurses burst in, eyes on Joy. They grabbed her arms gently. One of them smoothed a hand down her back, petting her, comforting her. The other one turned to me: “Don't blame yourself. She has these bad days. It's not your fault.”

 

47.

Nate wasn't in school. Someone said he had a virus or something. Saralynn said she hadn't talked to him. She had been away doing college visits with her parents in Boston.

Saralynn wants to study to be a nutritionist. Sure, she hangs out at Lefty's like the rest of us, gobbling his two-dollar double cheeseburgers. But she thinks she can improve people's lives by teaching them the right way to eat. She says she will probably become a vegan some day. But not till after high school because Lefty's hamburgers are so good.

I cornered her in the hall before third-period study hall to question her about Nate. “Why was Summer coming to warn me about him?” I demanded.

Saralynn leaned back against a locker. “Beats me. They went out together for a while in tenth grade. I think maybe she was too intense for him or something.”

“Did she know something bad about Nate?” I asked.

Saralynn scrunched up her face. “Bad about Nate? Like what?”

I shrugged. “You're his cousin. Is there something weird about Nate?”

“Lisa, you mean because of his horror collection?”

“No,” I said. “Something weirder.”

“Nate is Nate,” she replied. “What do you want me to say?”

I want you to tell me if he turns into a demon late at night and murders and eats people he doesn't like. I want you to tell me if he terrified Harry's last babysitter and drove her crazy.

I want you to tell me if I'm in danger.

The bell rang. The hall emptied out as everyone headed to class.

“I can't tell you anything,” Saralynn said. “Sorry.” She turned and headed down the hall, her backpack bouncing on her back.

*   *   *

I picked up Harry at Alice's house at four. Harry grabbed my hand. He was eager to go home. He wore a funny SpongeBob T-shirt and baggy white shorts that seemed way too big for him. He had a smear of chocolate on his chin.

“Alice said we can bake brownies when we get home,” he said, tugging my hand hard. His blue eyes pleaded with me. “Can we?”

“Well…”

“Brenda left a box of brownie mix for you on the sink,” Alice said, appearing behind me. She had a stack of folded laundry in her arms.

“Nice,” I said.

Alice narrowed her eyes at Harry. “You can have brownies tonight if you promise to go to bed on time.”

Harry raised his right hand and uttered in a deep voice, “I swear.”

For some reason, that made Alice and me both laugh. I guess it was the solemn way Harry said it.

“Okay, brownie night tonight,” I said. Harry tugged me to the back door. I called goodbye to Alice and followed him outside.

A sunny afternoon, warm with a cool breeze shaking the fresh spring leaves so that the trees all seemed to be whispering. Two robins were ducking their beaks into the back lawn, pulling up fat brown earthworms.

Harry and I strolled to the front of the house, then along the sidewalk toward his house. Joy was on my mind. I hadn't stopped thinking about her. I decided I had to ask Harry about her.

“Did you have a babysitter before me?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yes.”

“What was her name?”

“Joy. She was nice, but she had to leave.”

“Why did she have to leave?” I asked him.

The sun washed over his blond hair and made it glow. His blue eyes stared up at me. He didn't answer.

“Why did Joy leave?” I repeated.

“Mom said she got sick.” He kicked a small stone to the curb. He ran ahead and kicked it again. The conversation had ended.

Joy got sick all right,
I thought.
Something happened that sent her to a mental hospital.

We'd walked a full block. I suddenly realized Harry was traveling a little light. “Harry—your backpack?”

His eyes went wide. “Uh-oh. I left it at Alice's.” He raised his hands in a begging pose. “Can we leave it there?”

“And not do your homework tonight?”

He nodded with a grin.

“No way.” I stopped him with both hands on his shoulders. “You stay right here. Don't move. I'll get it.”

I turned and took off running before he could argue. My shoes thudded the grass as I darted through the front lawns of the houses I'd passed. A few seconds later, I stepped into Alice's kitchen, breathing hard.

No sign of her in the kitchen. “Alice? It's only me,” I called.

I hurried to the little office at the side of the house where Harry and Alice held their classes together. Harry's backpack was usually on the table they used, but not today. I didn't see it in the living room, either.

Did he leave it in the kitchen?

I was halfway through the back hall when I heard the howls.

I stopped. And listened. The cries sounded so sad. And so human.

Definitely not a cat.

Such sad, desperate howls for help. From the basement?

I hesitated at the top of the basement stairs. Then I grabbed the wooden banister and made my way down the stairs.

I was nearly to the bottom when I turned and saw who was howling.

And then my startled scream echoed through the basement.

 

48.

“Noooo.
Oh, no,” I moaned. “No. Please. It can't be.”

Still on the steps, I stared at the three cages lined up against the basement wall. Three cages with three creatures, one in each cage.

They were hunched low because the cages weren't tall enough for them to stand. They gripped the bars with long bonelike fingers. And howled in almost-human voices, so high and shrill and filled with pain.

“
Ellpusssss,
” the nearest to me hissed.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move off the steps. They were so sad and ugly. Human monsters. Like the demon I saw in Brenda Hart's house. Only their faces were more twisted and wrong and hideous.

One of them had an empty eye socket where one eye should be. The creature in the next cage had tiny arms, too short … too short for his body. The third creature … his bottom jaw was missing. No lips, only long upper teeth that hung straight down and a fat tongue that seemed to spring from deep in his throat.

Half of his face is missing.

I felt my stomach lurch. A wave of nausea swept over me. I started to vomit. Choking, gagging, I somehow forced it down.

On shaky legs, I left the stairway behind and stepped closer to the cages. I couldn't believe my eyes. The creatures were so hideous, so malformed, and so sad. Their bodies were bent. Their arms were too short and too skinny. Their faces had pieces missing.

They howled and wailed and thumped the bars with their small fists as they saw me approach.

This is not an hallucination.

These creatures are real.

What are they doing down here?

I screamed again. I couldn't hold it back.

And one of the creatures reached through the bars, wrapped his hot, dry fingers around my wrist—and pulled me to him.

“No. Please—let go! Let
go
of me!” I gasped.

 

49.

The fingers tightened around my wrist. I cried out in pain and terror and tried to pull back. But the creature's skin was rough as sandpaper, and as pain shot down my arm, I thought the creature had cut through my wrist.

All three of them were howling now, hopping up and down like gorillas, drooling and snapping their jaws.

With a sharp twist, I tried to squirm from the creature's grasp. But he pulled me against the cage. Grunting, he slid his twisted face to the bars—and
spat
on my cheek.

“Ohhhhhhhh.”
A moan of horror escaped my throat. His tongue was sandpaper scratchy too, and left a prickly trail of hot saliva on my cheek. My whole body shuddered.

As the other two demons shrieked and howled, I turned and stared into the cage. This one had no bottom jaw. But he pushed his face against the bars, trying to scrape my face with his upper teeth.

“Let go!” I screamed. But my voice was drowned out by their howls and screeches. I wanted to cover my ears. The horrible cries sent chill after chill down my back.

“Let goooo!”

The creature spit at me again. This time the big gob of saliva flew over my head.

I ducked—and to my surprise—tugged my hand free. “Hey—!” With a startled cry, I stumbled away from the cage. I couldn't catch my balance. I slammed hard into the basement wall. Pain shot down my shoulder.

I didn't care. I was free.

I rubbed my wrist. The creature's fingers had squeezed a red band around my wrist. I took one last look at the three of them, still hopping up and down, hooting and grunting, their deep, sad eyes on me. Then, gasping for breath, I turned and stumbled up the basement steps.

At least now I have proof.

I'm not crazy. The creatures exist. I didn't imagine the one in Brenda's house.

I have proof. Got to call the police.

I climbed to the hallway and slammed the basement door shut. Still no sign of Alice. She must have gone out.

Alice lied to me that first day. She said I heard her cat down there. Why did she have three monsters caged in her basement?

I knew I couldn't think about that now. Let the police sort it out.

I found Harry's backpack on the floor, leaning against the kitchen counter. I grabbed it up and, with the animal howls and cries repeating in my ears, I pulled open the kitchen door and flung myself outside.

Harry was waiting obediently where I left him. “Where were you?” he demanded. “What took you so long?”

I handed him his backpack. Then I mopped sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. “I … uh … couldn't find it,” I said.

He squinted at me, shielding his eyes from the lowering afternoon sun. “Why is your hair all messed up?”

“Wind blew it, I guess.” I tried to straighten it with my hands.

“I'm starving,” he said. “Can we have dinner right away?”

“Sure. No problem.” We started to walk. He didn't strap on his backpack. He swung it in front of him in both hands.

“Did you ever go down in your aunt's basement?” I asked, trying to make the question sound unimportant.

He shook his head. “No. Why?”

“Just wondered.”

“Aunt Alice said it's messy and I shouldn't go down there.”

We crossed the street. A blue SUV rumbled past. Someone waved to me from the driver's seat but I couldn't see who it was.

“Does Alice have a cat?” I asked him.

He nodded. “Mister Puffball.”

“I haven't seen Mister Puffball,” I said. “What does he look like?”

Harry shrugged. “He never comes out. He's very shy.”

“Does he stay in the basement?”

Harry didn't answer. He took off, running up the front lawn to his house, swinging the backpack in front of him.

He's at Alice's house all the time,
I thought.
How come he has never heard the creatures in the basement? How does Alice keep them quiet?

Again, I figured the police could find the answer to all my questions. Rubbing my throbbing wrist, I knew I'd never forget the horrors of that basement. But at the same time I felt relieved, relieved that I wasn't an insane person seeing horror-movie creatures that didn't exist.

I couldn't wait to call the police. I made Harry his dinner, microwave pizza and a small salad. Then I left him in the kitchen to eat and made my way to the den where I could call without him hearing.

I pulled Captain Rivera's card from my wallet. My hand trembled as I punched in the number.

Finally. Finally, he has to believe me.

I was passed along to two other officers until I was connected to the captain. “Rivera,” he answered in a grunt.

“I'm not crazy,” I blurted out. “I've seen other creatures. I've seen them. I'm not crazy.”

 

50.

A long silence at the other end. Then Rivera finally spoke up. “Who is this?”

“Oh. Sorry.” I shut my eyes. I felt like an idiot. “It's Lisa. Lisa Brooks.”

“Oh. Yes? What do you want?”

“I'm not crazy. I've been telling the truth,” I said. “The demons are real.”

Another silence. Then: “Lisa, have you seen your doctor?”

“No. Listen to me. Captain Rivera, this time you have to listen. I saw three other creatures. In cages.”

“Three horror-movie creatures in cages?”

“Yes. One of them grabbed me. They were screaming and howling and jumping up and down, and he grabbed me by the wrist and—”

“I'm sorry. You're not helping me, Lisa. I have a murder investigation to run here, and it isn't going well.”

“I
am
helping you,” I insisted.

“I'm sorry about your accident,” he said. “Sorry you're having problems. But—”