Night of the Living Dummy (5 page)

11

“Now, Mr. Wood, do you go to school?”

“Of course I do. Do you think I’m a dummy?”

“And what’s your favorite class?”

“Wood shop, of course!”

“What project are you building in shop class, Mr. Wood?”

“I’m building a
girl
dummy! What else? Ha-ha! Think I want to spend the rest of my life on
your
lap?!”

Kris sat in front of the dressing table mirror with Mr. Wood on her lap, studying herself as she practiced her routine for the school concert.

Mr. Wood had been well-behaved for two days. No frightening, mysterious incidents. Kris was beginning to feel better. Maybe everything would go okay from now on.

She leaned close to the mirror, watching her lips as she made the dummy talk.

The b’s and the m’s were impossible to pronounce without moving her lips. She’d just have to avoid those sounds as best she could.

I’m getting better at switching from Mr. Wood’s voice back to mine, she thought happily. But I’ve got to switch faster. The faster he and I talk, the funnier it is.

“Let’s try it again, Mr. Wood,” she said, pulling her chair closer to the mirror.

“Work, work, work,” she made the dummy grumble.

Before she could begin the routine, Lindy came rushing breathlessly into the room. Kris watched her sister in the mirror as she came up behind her, her long hair flying loosely over her shoulders, an excited smile on her face.

“Guess what?” Lindy asked.

Kris started to reply, but Lindy didn’t give her a chance.

“Mrs. Petrie was at Amy Marshall’s birthday party,” Lindy gushed excitedly. “She works for Channel Three. You know. The TV station. And she thinks I’m good enough to go on
Talent Search,
the show they have every week.”

“Huh? Really?” was all Kris could manage in reply.

Lindy leapt excitedly in the air and cheered. “Slappy and I are going to be on TV!” she cried. “Isn’t that
fabulous
?”

Staring at her sister’s jubilant reflection in the mirror, Kris felt a stab of jealousy.

“I’ve got to tell Mom!” Lindy declared. “Hey, Mom! Mom!” She ran from the room. Kris heard her shouting all the way down the stairs.

“Aaaaaargh!” Kris couldn’t hold it in. She uttered an angry cry.

“Why does everything good happen to Lindy?” Kris screamed aloud. “I’m hosting a stupid concert for maybe a hundred parents—and she’s going to be on TV! I’m just as good as she is. Maybe better!”

In a rage, she raised Mr. Wood high over her head and slammed him to the floor.

The dummy’s head made a loud
clonk
as it hit the hardwood floor. The wide mouth flew open as if about to scream.

“Oh.” Kris struggled to regain her composure.

Mr. Wood, crumpled at her feet, stared up at her accusingly.

Kris lifted him up and cradled the dummy against her. “There, there, Mr. Wood,” she whispered soothingly. “Did I hurt you? Did I? I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

The dummy continued to stare up at her. His painted grin hadn’t changed, but his eyes seemed cold and unforgiving.

It was a still night. No breeze. The curtains in front of the open bedroom window didn’t flutter or move. Pale silver moonlight filtered in, creating long, purple shadows that appeared to creep across the girls’ bedroom.

Lindy had been sleeping fitfully, a light sleep filled with busy, colorful dreams. She was startled awake by a sound. A gentle
thud.

“Huh?” she raised her head from the damp pillow and turned.

Someone was moving in the darkness.

The sounds she’d heard were footsteps.

“Hey!” she whispered, wide awake now. “Who is it?”

The figure turned in the doorway, a shadow against even blacker shadows. “It’s only me,” came a whispered reply.

“Kris?”

“Yeah. Something woke me up. My throat is sore,” Kris whispered from the doorway. “I’m going down to the kitchen for a glass of water.”

She disappeared into the shadows. Her head still raised off the pillow, Lindy listened to her footsteps padding down the stairs.

When the sounds faded, Lindy shut her eyes and lowered her head to the pillow.

A few seconds later, she heard Kris’ scream of horror.

12

Her heart pounding, Lindy struggled out of bed. The sheet tangled around her legs, and she nearly fell.

Kris’ bloodcurdling scream echoed in her ears.

She practically leapt down the dark stairway, her bare feet thudding hard on the thin carpet of the steps.

It was dark downstairs, except for a thin sliver of yellow light from the kitchen.

“Kris—Kris—are you okay?” Lindy called, her voice sounding small and frightened in the dark hallway.

“Kris?”

Lindy stopped at the kitchen doorway.

What was that eerie light?

It took her a while to focus. Then she realized she was staring at the dim yellow light from inside the refrigerator.

The refrigerator door was wide open.

And… the refrigerator was empty.

“What—what’s going on here?”

She took a step into the kitchen. Then another.

Something cold and wet surrounded her foot.

Lindy gasped and, looking down, saw that she had stepped into a wide puddle.

An overturned milk carton beside her foot revealed that the puddle was spilled milk.

She raised her eyes to Kris, who was standing in darkness across the room, her back against the wall, her hands raised to her face in horror.

“Kris, what on earth—”

The scene was coming into focus now. It was all so weird, so…
wrong.
It was taking Lindy a long time to see the whole picture.

But, now, following Kris’ horrified stare, Lindy saw the mess on the floor. And realized why the refrigerator was empty.

Everything inside it had been pulled out and dumped on the kitchen floor. An orange juice bottle lay on its side in a puddle of orange juice. Eggs were scattered everywhere. Fruits and vegetables were strewn over the floor.

“Ohh!” Lindy moaned in utter disbelief.

Everything seemed to sparkle and gleam.

What was all that shiny stuff among the food?

Kris’ jewelry!

There were earrings and bracelets and strands of beads tossed everywhere, mixed with the spilled, strewn food like some kind of bizarre salad.

“Oh, no!” Lindy shrieked as her eyes came to rest on the figure on the floor.

Sitting upright in the middle of the mess was Mr. Wood, grinning gleefully at her. He had several strands of beads around his neck, long, dangling earrings hanging from his ears, and a platter of leftover chicken on his lap.

13

“Kris, are you
okay
?” Lindy cried, turning her eyes away from the grinning, jewelry-covered dummy.

Kris didn’t seem to hear her.

“Are you okay?” Lindy repeated the question.

“Wh-what’s going on?” Kris stammered, her back pressed against the wall, her expression taut with terror. “Who—who
did
this? Did Mr. Wood—?”

Lindy started to reply. But their mother’s howl of surprise from the doorway cut off her words. “Mom—” Lindy cried, spinning around.

Mrs. Powell clicked on the ceiling light. The kitchen seemed to flare up. All three of them blinked, struggling to adjust to the sudden brightness.

“What on earth!” Mrs. Powell cried. She started to call to her husband, then remembered he wasn’t home. “I—I don’t believe this!”

Barky came bounding into the room, his tail wagging. He lowered his head and started to lick up some spilled milk.

“Out you go,” Mrs. Powell said sternly. She picked up the dog, carried him out, and closed the kitchen door. Then she strode into the center of the room, shaking her head, her bare feet narrowly missing the puddle of milk.

“I came down for a drink, and I—I found this mess,” Kris said in a trembling voice. “The food. My jewelry. Everything…”

“Mr. Wood did it,” Lindy accused. “Look at him!”

“Stop it! Stop it!”
Mrs. Powell screamed. “I’ve had enough.”

Mrs. Powell surveyed the mess, frowning and tugging at a strand of blonde hair. Her eyes stopped on Mr. Wood, and she uttered a groan of disgust.

“I knew it,” she said in a low voice, raising her eyes accusingly to the two girls. “I knew this had something to do with those ventriloquist dummies.”

“Mr. Wood did it, Mom,” Kris said heatedly, stepping away from the wall, her hands tensed into fists. “I know it sounds dumb, but—”

“Stop it,” Mrs. Powell ordered, narrowing her eyes. “This is just sick. Sick!” She stared hard at the jewel-bedecked dummy, who grinned up at her over the big platter of chicken.

“I’m going to take the dummies away from you both,” Mrs. Powell said, turning back to Lindy and Kris. “This whole thing has just gotten out of control.”

“No!” Kris cried.

“That’s not fair!” Lindy declared.

“I’m sorry. They have to be put away,” Mrs. Powell said firmly. She let her eyes move over the cluttered floor, and let out another weary sigh. “Look at my kitchen.”

“But I didn’t do anything!” Lindy screamed.

“I need Mr. Wood for the spring concert!” Kris protested. “Everyone is counting on me, Mom.”

Mrs. Powell glanced from one to the other. Her eyes stayed on Kris. “That’s
your
dummy on the floor, right?”

“Yeah,” Kris told her. “But I didn’t do this. I swear!”

“You both swear you didn’t do it, right?” Mrs. Powell said, suddenly looking very tired under the harsh ceiling light.

“Yes,” Lindy answered quickly.

“Then you both lose your dummies. I’m sorry,” Mrs. Powell said. “One of you is lying. I—I really can’t believe this.”

A heavy silence blanketed the room as all three Powells stared down in dismay at the mess on the floor.

Kris was the first to speak. “Mom, what if Lindy and I clean everything up?”

Lindy caught on quickly. Her face brightened. “Yeah. What if we put everything back. Right now. Make the kitchen just like normal. Make it spotless. Can we keep our dummies?”

Mrs. Powell shook her head. “No. I don’t think so. Look at this mess. All the vegetables are spoiled. And the milk.”

“We’ll replace it all,” Kris said quickly. “With our allowance. And we’ll clean it up perfectly. Please. If we do that, give us one more chance?”

Mrs. Powell twisted her face in concentration, debating with herself. She stared at her daughters’ eager faces. “Okay,” she replied finally. “I want the kitchen spotless when I come down in the morning. All the food, all the jewelry. Everything back where it goes.”

“Okay,” both girls said in unison.

“And I don’t want to see either of those dummies down here in my kitchen again,” Mrs. Powell demanded. “If you can do that, I’ll give you one more chance.”

“Great!” both girls cried at once.

“And I don’t want to hear any more arguments about those dummies,” Mrs. Powell continued. “No more fights. No more competing. No more blaming everything on the dummies. I don’t want to hear
anything
about them. Ever.”

“You won’t,” Kris promised, glancing at her sister.

“Thanks, Mom,” Lindy said. “You go to bed. We’ll clean up.” She gave her mother a gentle shove toward the doorway.

“Not another word,” Mrs. Powell reminded them.

“Right, Mom,” the twins agreed.

Their mother disappeared toward her room. They began to clean up. Kris pulled a large garbage bag from the drawer and held it while Lindy tossed in empty cartons and spoiled food.

Kris carefully collected her jewelry and carried it upstairs.

Neither girl spoke. They worked in silence, picking up, cleaning, and mopping until the kitchen was clean. Lindy closed the refrigerator door. She yawned loudly.

Kris inspected the floor on her hands and knees, making sure it was spotless. Then she picked up Mr. Wood. He grinned back at her as if it was all a big joke.

This dummy has been nothing but trouble, Kris thought.

Nothing but trouble.

She followed Lindy out of the kitchen, clicking off the light as she left. The two girls climbed the stairs silently. Neither of them had spoken a word.

Pale moonlight filtered into their room through the open window. The air felt hot and steamy.

Kris glanced at the clock. It was a little past three in the morning.

Slappy sat slumped in the chair in front of the window, moonlight shining on his grinning face. Lindy, yawning, climbed into bed, pushed down the blanket, and pulled up the sheet. She turned her face away from her sister.

Kris lowered Mr. Wood from her shoulder.
You’re nothing but trouble,
she thought angrily, holding him in front of her and staring at his grinning face.

Nothing but trouble.

Mr. Wood’s wide, leering grin seemed to mock her.

A chill of fear mixed with her anger.

I’m beginning to hate this dummy, she thought.

Fear him and hate him.

Angrily, she pulled open the closet door and tossed the dummy into the closet. It fell in a crumpled heap on the closet floor.

Kris slammed the closet door shut.

Her heart thudding, she climbed into bed and pulled up the covers. She suddenly felt very tired. Her entire body ached from weariness.

She buried her face in the pillow and shut her eyes.

She had just about fallen asleep when she heard the tiny voice.

“Let me out! Let me out of here!” it cried. A muffled voice, coming from inside the closet.

14

“Let me out! Let me out!” the high-pitched voice called angrily.

Kris sat up with a jolt. Her entire body convulsed in a shudder of fear.

Her eyes darted to the other bed. Lindy hadn’t moved.

“Did—did you hear it?” Kris stammered.

“Hear what?” Lindy asked sleepily.

“The voice,” Kris whispered. “In the closet.”

“Huh?” Lindy asked sleepily. “What are you talking about? It’s three in the morning. Can’t we get some sleep?”

“But, Lindy—” Kris lowered her feet to the floor. Her heart was thudding in her chest. “Wake up. Listen to me! Mr. Wood was calling to me. He was
talking
!”

Lindy raised her head and listened.

Silence.

“I don’t hear anything, Kris. Really. Maybe you were dreaming.”

“No!” Kris shrieked, feeling herself lose control. “It wasn’t a dream! I’m so scared, Lindy. I’m just so
scared
!”

Suddenly Kris was trembling all over, and hot tears were pouring down her cheeks.

Lindy stood up and moved to the edge of her sister’s bed.

“Something h-horrible is going on here, Lindy,” Kris stammered through her tears.

“And I know who’s doing it,” Lindy whispered, leaning over her twin, putting a comforting hand on her quivering shoulder.

“Huh?”

“Yes. I know who’s been doing it all,” Lindy whispered. “I know who it is.”

“Who?” Kris asked breathlessly.