Night of the Living Dummy (8 page)

21

Both sisters stared at the dummy, waiting for him to collapse.

But he gripped the banister and tossed his head back in an amused, scornful laugh. “Those are the words of the ancient sorcerer to bring me to life!” he proclaimed. “Those aren’t the words to kill me!”

Kill him?

Yes, Kris thought frantically. She tossed down the yellow paper disgustedly.

We have no choice.

“We have to kill him, Lindy.”

“Huh?” Her sister’s face filled with surprise.

Kris grabbed the dummy by the shoulders and held on tightly. “I’ll hold him. You pull his head off.”

Lindy was beside her now. She had to duck away from Mr. Wood’s thrashing feet.

“I’ll hold him still,” Kris repeated. “Grab his head. Pull it off.”

“You—you’re sure?” Lindy hesitated, her features tight with fear.

“Just do it!”
Kris screamed.

She let her hands slide down around Mr. Wood’s waist.

Lindy grabbed his head in both hands.

“Let go of me!”
the dummy rasped.

“Pull!” Kris cried to her terrified sister.

Holding the dummy tightly around the waist, she leaned back, pulling him away from her sister.

Lindy’s hands were wrapped tightly around the dummy’s head. With a loud groan, she pulled hard.

The head didn’t come off.

Mr. Wood uttered a high-pitched giggle. “Stop. You’re tickling me!” he rasped.

“Pull harder!” Kris ordered her sister.

Lindy’s face was bright red. She tightened her grip on the head and pulled again, tugging with all her strength.

The dummy giggled his shrill, unpleasant giggle.

“It—it won’t come off,” Lindy said, sighing in defeat.

“Twist it off!” Kris suggested frantically.

The dummy thrashed out with his feet, kicking Kris in the stomach. But she held on. “Twist the head off!” she cried.

Lindy tried to turn the head.

The dummy giggled.

“It won’t twist!” Lindy cried in frustration. She let go of the head and took a step back.

Mr. Wood raised his head, stared up at Lindy, and grinned. “You can’t kill me. I have powers.”

“What do we do?” Lindy cried, raising her eyes to Kris.

“This is my house now,” the dummy rasped, grinning at Lindy as it struggled to wriggle out of Kris’ arms. “You will do as I say now. Put me down.”

“What do we
do
?” Lindy repeated.

“Take him upstairs. We’ll
cut
his head off,” Kris replied.

Mr. Wood swung his head around, his eyes stretched open in an evil glare.

“Ow!” Kris cried out in surprise as the dummy snapped his jaws over her arm, biting her. She pulled her arm away and, without thinking, slapped the dummy’s wooden head with the palm of her hand.

The dummy giggled in response. “Violence! Violence!” he said in a mock scolding tone.

“Get those sharp scissors. In your drawer,” Kris instructed her sister. “I’ll carry him up to our room.”

Her arm throbbed where he had bitten her. But she held onto him tightly and carried him up to their bedroom.

Lindy had already pulled the long metal scissors from the drawer. Her hand trembled as she opened and closed the blades.

“Below the neck,” Kris said, holding Mr. Wood tightly by the shoulders.

He hissed furiously at her. She dodged as he tried to kick her with both sneakered feet.

Holding the scissors with two hands, Lindy tried cutting the head off at the neck. The scissors didn’t cut, so she tried a sawing motion.

Mr. Wood giggled. “I told you. You can’t kill me.”

“It isn’t going to work,” Lindy cried, tears of frustration running down her cheeks. “Now what?”

“We’ll put him in the closet. Then we can think,” Kris replied.

“You have no need to think. You are my slaves,” the dummy rasped. “You will do whatever I ask. I will be in charge from now on.”

“No way,” Kris muttered, shaking her head.

“What if we
won’t
help you?” Lindy demanded.

The dummy turned to her, casting her a hard, angry stare. “Then I’ll start hurting the ones you love,” he said casually. “Your parents. Your friends. Or maybe that disgusting dog that’s always yapping at me.” He tossed back his head and a dry, evil laugh escaped his wooden lips.

“Lock him in the closet,” Lindy suggested. “Till we figure out how to get rid of him.”

“You
can’t
get rid of me,” Mr. Wood insisted. “Don’t make me angry. I have powers. I’m warning you. I’m starting to get tired of your stupid attempts to harm me.”

“The closet doesn’t lock—remember?” Kris cried, struggling to hold onto the wriggling dummy.

“Oh. Wait. How about this?” Lindy hurried to the closet. She pulled out an old suitcase from the back.

“Perfect,” Kris said.

“I’m warning you—” Mr. Wood threatened. “You are becoming very tiresome.”

With a hard tug, he pulled himself free of Kris.

She dove to tackle him, but he darted out from under her. She fell facedown onto her bed.

The dummy ran to the center of the room, then turned his eyes to the doorway, as if trying to decide where to go. “You must do as I tell you,” he said darkly, raising a wooden hand toward Lindy. “I will not run from you two. You are to be my slaves.”

“No!” Kris cried, pushing herself up.

She and her sister both dove at the dummy. Lindy grabbed his arms. Kris ducked to grab his ankles.

Working together, they stuffed him into the open suitcase.

“You will regret this,” he threatened, kicking his legs, struggling to hit them. “You will pay dearly for this. Now someone will die!” He continued screaming after Kris latched the suitcase and shoved it into the closet. She quickly closed the closet door, then leaned her back against it, sighing wearily.

“Now what?” she asked Lindy.

22

“We’ll bury him,” Kris said.

“Huh?” Lindy stifled a yawn.

They had been whispering together for what seemed like hours. As they tried to come up with a plan, they could hear the dummy’s muffled cries from inside the closet.

“We’ll bury him. Under that huge mound of dirt,” Kris explained, her eyes going to the window. “You know. Next door, at the side of the new house.”

“Yeah. Okay. I don’t know,” Lindy replied. “I’m so tired, I can’t think straight.” She glanced at the bed table clock. It was nearly three-thirty in the morning. “I still think we should wake up Mom and Dad,” Lindy said, fear reflected in her eyes.

“We can’t,” Kris told her. “We’ve been over that a hundred times. They won’t believe us. If we wake them up, we’ll be in even bigger trouble.”

“How could we be in
bigger
trouble?” Lindy demanded, gesturing with her head to the closet where Mr. Wood’s angry cries could still be heard.

“Get dressed,” Kris said with renewed energy. “We’ll bury him under all that dirt. Then we’ll never have to think about him again.”

Lindy shuddered and turned her eyes to her dummy, folded up in the chair. “I can’t bear to look at Slappy anymore. I’m so sorry I got us interested in dummies.”

“Ssshhh. Just get dressed,” Kris said impatiently.

A few minutes later, the two girls crept down the stairs in the darkness. Kris carried the suitcase in both arms, trying to muffle the sound of Mr. Wood’s angry protests.

They stopped at the bottom of the stairs and listened for any sign that they had awakened their parents.

Silence.

Lindy pulled open the front door and they slipped outside.

The air was surprisingly cool and wet. A heavy dew had begun to fall, making the front lawn glisten under the light of a half-moon. Blades of wet grass clung to their sneakers as they made their way to the garage.

As Kris held onto the suitcase, Lindy slowly, quietly, pulled open the garage door. When it was halfway up, she ducked and slipped inside.

A few seconds later she emerged, carrying a large snow shovel. “This should do it,” she said, whispering even though no one was around.

Kris glanced down the street as they headed across the yard to the lot next door. The heavy morning dew misted the glow of the streetlamps, making the pale light appear to bend and flicker like candles. Everything seemed to shimmer under the dark purple sky.

Kris set the suitcase down beside the tall mound of dirt. “We’ll dig right down here,” she said, pointing toward the bottom of the mound. “We’ll shove him in and cover him.”

“I’m warning you,” Mr. Wood threatened, listening inside the suitcase. “Your plan won’t work. I have powers!”

“You dig first,” Kris told her sister, ignoring the dummy’s threat. “Then I’ll take a turn.”

Lindy dug into the pile and heaved up a shovelful of dirt. Kris shivered. The heavy dew felt cold and damp. A cloud floated over the moon, darkening the sky from purple to black.

“Let me out!” Mr. Wood called. “Let me out now, and your punishment won’t be too severe.”

“Dig faster,” Kris whispered impatiently.

“I’m going as fast as I can,” Lindy replied. She had dug a pretty good-sized square-shaped hole at the base of the mound. “How much deeper, do you think?”

“Deeper,” Kris said. “Here. Watch the suitcase. I’ll take a turn.” She changed places with Lindy and started to dig.

Something scampered heavily near the low shrubs that separated the yards. Kris looked up, saw a moving shadow, and gasped.

“Raccoon, I think,” Lindy said with a shudder. “Are we going to bury Mr. Wood in the suitcase, or are we going to take him out?”

“Think Mom will notice the suitcase is gone?” Kris asked, tossing a shovelful of wet dirt to the side.

Lindy shook her head. “We never use it.”

“We’ll bury him in the suitcase,” Kris said. “It’ll be easier.”

“You’ll be sorry,” the dummy rasped. The suitcase shook and nearly toppled onto its side.

“I’m so sleepy,” Lindy moaned, tossing her socks onto the floor, then sliding her feet under the covers.

“I’m wide awake,” Kris replied, sitting on the edge of her bed. “I guess it’s because I’m so happy. So happy we got rid of that awful creature.”

“It’s all so weird,” Lindy said, adjusting her pillow behind her head. “I don’t blame Mom or Dad for not believing it. I’m not sure I believe it, either.”

“You put the shovel back where you found it?” Kris asked.

Lindy nodded. “Yeah,” she said sleepily.

“And you closed the garage door?”

“Ssshhh. I’m asleep,” Lindy said. “At least there’s no school tomorrow. We can sleep late.”

“I hope I can fall asleep,” Kris said doubtfully. “I’m just so
pumped.
It’s all like some kind of hideously gross nightmare. I just think… Lindy? Lindy—are you still awake?”

No. Her sister had fallen asleep.

Kris stared up at the ceiling. She pulled the blankets up to her chin. She still felt chilled. She couldn’t shake the cold dampness of the early morning air.

After a short while, with thoughts of everything that had happened that night whirring crazily in her head, Kris fell asleep, too.

The rumble of machines woke her up at eight-thirty the next morning. Stretching, trying to rub the sleep from her eyes, Kris stumbled to the window, leaned over the chair holding Slappy, and peered out.

It was a gray, cloudy day. Two enormous yellow steamrollers were rolling over the lot next door behind the newly constructed house, flattening the land.

I wonder if they’re going to flatten that big mound of dirt, Kris thought, staring down at them. That would really be
excellent.

Kris smiled. She hadn’t slept very long, but she felt refreshed.

Lindy was still sound asleep. Kris tiptoed past her, pulled her robe on, and headed downstairs.

“Morning, Mom,” she called brightly, tying the belt to her robe as she entered the kitchen.

Mrs. Powell turned from the sink to face her. Kris was surprised to see an angry expression on her face.

She followed her mother’s stare to the breakfast counter.

“Oh!” Kris gasped when she saw Mr. Wood. He was seated at the counter, his hands in his lap. His hair was matted with red-brown dirt, and he had dirt smears on his cheeks and forehead.

Kris raised her hands to her face in horror.

“I thought you were told never to bring that thing down here!” Mrs. Powell scolded. “What do I have to do, Kris?” She turned angrily back to the sink.

The dummy winked at Kris and flashed her a wide, evil grin.

23

As Kris stared in horror at the grinning dummy, Mr. Powell suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Ready?” he asked his wife.

Mrs. Powell hung the dishtowel on the rack and turned around, brushing a lock of hair off her forehead. “Ready. I’ll get my bag.” She brushed past him into the front hallway.

“Where are you going?” Kris cried, her voice revealing her alarm. She kept her eyes on the dummy at the counter.

“Just doing a little shopping at the garden store,” her father told her, stepping into the room, peering out the kitchen window. “Looks like rain.”

“Don’t go!” Kris pleaded.

“Huh?” He turned toward her.

“Don’t go—please!” Kris cried.

Her father’s eyes landed on the dummy. He walked over to him. “Hey—what’s the big idea?” her father asked angrily.

“I thought you wanted to take him back to the pawn shop,” Kris replied, thinking quickly.

“Not till Monday,” her father replied. “Today is Saturday, remember?”

The dummy blinked. Mr. Powell didn’t notice.

“Do you have to go shopping now?” Kris asked in a tiny voice.

Before her father could answer, Mrs. Powell reappeared in the doorway. “Here. Catch,” she called, and tossed the car keys to him. “Let’s go before it pours.”

Mr. Powell started to the door. “Why don’t you want us to go?” he asked.

“The dummy—” Kris started. But she knew it was hopeless. They’d never listen. They’d never believe her. “Never mind,” she muttered.

A few seconds later, she heard their car back down the driveway. They were gone.

And she was alone in the kitchen with the grinning dummy.

Mr. Wood turned toward her slowly, swiveling the tall counter stool. His big eyes locked angrily on Kris’.

“I warned you,” he rasped.

Barky came trotting into the kitchen, his toenails clicking loudly on the linoleum. He sniffed the floor as he ran, searching for breakfast scraps someone might have dropped.

“Barky, where’ve you been?” Kris asked, glad to have company.

The dog ignored her and sniffed under the stool Mr. Wood sat on.

“He was upstairs, waking me up,” Lindy said, rubbing her eyes as she walked into the kitchen. She was wearing white tennis shorts and a sleeveless magenta T-shirt. “Stupid dog.”

Barky licked at a spot on the linoleum.

Lindy cried out as she spotted Mr. Wood. “Oh, no!”

“I’m back,” the dummy rasped. “And I’m very unhappy with you two slaves.”

Lindy turned to Kris, her mouth open in surprise and terror.

Kris kept her eyes trained on the dummy.
What does he plan to do?
she wondered.
How can I stop him?

Burying him under all that dirt hadn’t kept him from returning. Somehow he had freed himself from the suitcase and pulled himself out.

Wasn’t there any way to defeat him? Any way at all?

Grinning his evil grin, Mr. Wood dropped down to the floor, his sneakers thudding hard on the floor. “I’m very unhappy with you two slaves,” he repeated in his growly voice.

“What are you going to do?” Lindy cried in a shrill, frightened voice.

“I have to punish you,” the dummy replied. “I have to prove to you that I am serious.”

“Wait!” Kris cried.

But the dummy moved quickly. He reached down and grabbed Barky by the neck with both hands.

As the dummy tightened his grip, the frightened terrier began to howl in pain.