"Mommy's all right. Daddy's all right. They just seem a little weird…" He chuckled. "Boy, ain't that the truth."
There was a knock on his bedroom door. Timmy turned his stereo down until it was barely audible.
"Come in."
The door opened and his mom peeked her head inside. She smiled.
"You okay, hon?"
He nodded. "Yeah, I think so."
"Can I come in?"
"Sure."
She walked into the room and sat down on his bed. "What you doing, kiddo?"
"Just listening to some tapes. Pat gave this one to me. I was just thinking about that. I mean, we weren't exactly friends or anything, because he was older than us. But he was always nice to us. He treated us like little brothers, I guess."
"I see." She paused. "Do you want to talk about what happened today?" Timmy shrugged. "I think I'm okay, Mom. I mean, it just sucks. Pat was a cool guy, and I feel bad for the Moores,"especially Katie, he thought"but what can I do?"
"Doug said it was pretty bad, when the police opened the car's trunk. Did you see much?" His face paled at the memory. "Yeah."
"Do you want to talk about that?"
He breathed a heavy sigh. "It… it wasn't like in comic books and movies. The smell was the worst. The sound of flies. And the… maggots. I' ve seen maggots before, like when there's a dead groundhog on the road. One time, we were riding our bikes down to the dump and Barry stuck an MEighty in a dead groundhog and blew it up and there were maggots everywhere. That was kinda cool. But this was… different." She frowned. "You boys blew up a dead animal?"
"It was cool, Mom. But that wasn't anything like this. This was…" Still frowning, she nodded with tentative encouragement.
"I know that' s just a part of the process," Timmy continued, "the maggots and stuff. But it made me think about Grandpa, and about what really happens to us after we die. And that freaked me out. You think about dead people going to heaven, but not about what happens under the ground. Like I said, it freaked me out for a little while. But Katie…" He trailed off, suddenly nervous and uncomfortable.
He was embarrassed to tell his mother anything about Katie. Elizabeth waited patiently. "Yes? Katie what?"
"She cheered me up. I'm okay, now."
"Well, good." His mother rose, and patted him gently on the head. "I'll leave you alone. If you want to talk about it though, I' m here. Your father is working late, since he went in late this morning. Are you hungry?"
"Not really."
"Well, if you get hungry, let me know and I'll put a pizza in the oven or something."
"Okay, Mom. Thanks."
She started to leave, then turned. "Timmy? You know we love you, right? Your father and I?"
"Sure. I know."
"It' s been a really hard summer so far, what with your grandfather and the extra hours your father is putting in at the mill. But you seem… different, the last few weeks. Withdrawn, like something 's on your mind. Is there anything else that's bothering you?
Something else that you want to talk about?"
Sure, Mom. I'm going with Katie Moore now, and I can hardly believe it because it seems like a dream, and meanwhile, Barry' s dad is an abusive asshole and I think he 's up to something and he has forbidden us to hang out with Barry anymore and Doug's mom is having sex with him.
"No, Mom. Honestly, I'm okay. Like you said, it's just been a weird summer. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'll be kind of glad when it' s over and school starts again."
"Okay. Well, I'll leave you alone. Your father will probably want to talk to you when he gets home. Be patient with him. He' s tired and stressed. I guess we all are."
"Yeah."
"You and Doug might be on the evening news. Want to see?"
"No. I think I've seen enough for one day." "Love you. Try to get some rest, okay?" Timmy nodded, and she closed the door. His mother' s footsteps faded down the hall. He reached over and turned the stereo back up. Cheap Trick was still playing.
"… but don't give yourself away… away… away…"
He sat there for a few more minutes, remembering Pat and thinking about the day's events. Over and over again, his mind was drawn to Katiethe smell of her hair and the touch of her hand, and the way her eyes had sparkled in the sunlight. He missed her already and couldn 't believe he' d have to wait until Sunday to see her again. After a while, he pulled a box of comic books out from under his bed and began flipping through them. His nostrils flared as he breathed in the comforting, familiar smell of old paper. He came across a tattered issue of House of Secrets that he hadn' t read in a long time. The bottom section of the cover was missing and the paper around the staples was brown with age. He leaned back against the bed and began reading it.
On the top of what was left of the ragged cover was the title, along with the logo: There's No Escape From… THE HOUSE OF SECRETS.
In the left hand corner was the circular DC logo, as opposed to Marvel's. In the right hand corner was the issue number135, along with the price of thirtyfive cents. It was a late seventies back issue that he' d picked up at the flea market. Timmy grinned, nostalgic. In 1978, comics had cost a measly thirtyfive cents. Now, in 1984, they cost fifty cents, or sometimes more.
It was a shame. On the cover, a man in a cape stood atop a coffin. A group of men were gathered around him. "In one minute," the man told them (via a word balloon), "I'll prove my power and bring Jennifer back to life!" The ghost of a blond woman, supposedly Jennifer, floated behind him.
Timmy opened the comic. The cartoonish host (named Abel), talked directly to the reader from the first page, introducing each gruesome tale (his brother Cain was the host of DCs sister publication, House of Mystery).
The first story was called "The Resurrection Business" and pretty much followed the events depicted on the front cover. The second story, "Don 't Look Now," was about some underground cave explorers fighting a group of monsters called Cypors. Timmy wasn' t impressed with either the writing or the artwork, and figured he and Doug could do better. Tempted to return the comic to the box and select something different, he flipped to the last story, "Down With the Dead Men." It took place in a cemetery, which piqued his flagging interest. A ghoul was on the loose; eating the bodies of the dead and hording the gold and jewelry with which they ' d been buried. In the comic, a group of villagers trapped the creature in a crypt and destroyed it by waiting for the sun to rise, then allowing the sunlight to shine through the crypt 's small window. Timmy bolted upright against the bed and stared at the last panel. He shut the comic book with trembling hands.
Earlier, Reverend Moore had said that the church' s original founders had imprisoned a demon in the cemetery. The demon had supposedly followed them from the Old World and had been causing trouble. What if the demon had actually been a ghoul, just like in the comic book? What if they ' d imprisoned it in the grave, and bound it in place with the magic powwow symbol?
And then, when the grave and the symbol were destroyed, the ghoul had been freed?
Timmy had always been fascinated by the supernatural, and believed a lot of it. When they were six, he and Doug had thought they saw Bigfoot near the creek in Bowman ' s Woods. It had turned out just to be a tree, but Timmy still believed it was possible, and that perhaps one day they would come across Bigfoot in the forest. He believed in Bigfoot. He believed in ghosts. He believed in flying saucers and sea serpents and demonic possession. Timmy believed that people really did disappear inside the Bermuda Triangle and that some dinosaurs probably escaped the Ice Age and were still alive in the deep, dark corners of the world in places like Loch Ness and Lake Champlain. He believed in pyrokinesis, telekinesis, extrasensory perception, and remote viewing. He didn ' t know where these beliefs came from, just that he had always had them. The bookshelves in his room were full of books on the topics. He ' d always viewed the world with wideeyed fascination. He 'd noticed over the last few years that many of his friends at schoolfriends who had once believed just as fervently as himno longer considered the possible existence of ghosts or monsters. Perhaps they viewed them as fallacies, the same way he viewed