They were making wooden teeth.
Back on the wall, George Washington appeared to be laughing uproariously, his uninhibited guffaw the sound of bees buzzing, and though Miss Iris considered herself something of a tough customer, her eyelids fluttered, the world went black, and she fell to the ground in a faint.
She awoke moments later, screaming, when Ashley Curtis began knocking her teeth out with a rock.
Twenty-four
Flagstaff, Arizona
"This seems wrong," Angela said as Derek found a parking space in the south lot and pulled into it.
"I know," he said. "But real life's still going on. We have classes, we have jobs, and if we don't show up, we'll flunk and get fired."
She smiled. "That's the part they don't show you in movies. Usually, everyone drops everything and fights the monster or solves the mystery and once the problem's solved you assume they're going to live happily ever after. They don't show the part where they get fired from their job and
can't pay rent and end up being evicted and homeless."
"We're still going to fight the monster and solve the mystery. We just have to do it after work and after class."
Angela was suddenly serious again. "What do you think's happening at Babbitt House?" In her mind, she saw the Victorian house covered with black mold that was starting to spread to adjacent homes.
"I don't know."
"I want to go by there later."
"Angela ..."
"We'll just drive past. That's it. You speed by, and I'll look out the window."
"We'll see." He looked at his watch. "Right now, I need to get my ass to work and you need to go to class. We'll meet in the quad at eleven, then go see Dr. Mathewson and find out if he's had any luck."
"He would've called us if he had," she pointed out.
"Maybe something'll happen this morning. Never can tell."
They waved, heading in opposite directions, and Angela started off toward class. It had been awkward saying good-bye, she thought. They'd spent almost every second of the last few days together, and though there was nothing romantic between them, there was still an intimacy, and it seemed as though parting should involve a hug, a touch, something that would acknowledge the closeness.
Attending Algebra and then English Composition was decidedly strange. After the surreal chaos of the past several days, to sit in an ordinary classroom, surrounded by students dutifully taking notes, listening to an instructor lecture on an academic topic, felt very peculiar. Several times, particularly during the math class, she found herself looking at the exposed section of arm where the corpse had grabbed her as she searched for signs of anything amiss, trying to detect stray black spots of mold that might still be on her skin.
Chrissie had a music appreciation class right now, and Angela wondered if her roommate-former roommate-was there or had given up going to school entirely and was spending all of her time in a decaying Babbitt House, looking at the moldy black walls, ranting and raving about Mexicans and growing crazier by the minute.
Something in that train of thought seemed important to her, as though it might hold the key to part of this mystery or at least might shed some further light on what was happening, but though the connection was on the tip of her brain, it could not make the leap to consciousness and the more she tried to pin it down, the farther away it seemed to slip.
Angela listened to the lectures and took notes, but though she knew Derek was right, that real life went on and after all this insanity was over they would have to resume their ordinary existence, the information she copied into her notebook seemed trivial and unimportant. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make it seem anything less than frivolous in a brave new world filled with living corpses and alien mold.
The English class got out early, and Angela rode with the herd down the stairs, out of the Humanities Building and into the quad, where a crowd of people seemed to be milling about the far end, others from the periphery and from just-released classes joining the throng. Was it a concert, a rally, a speech? She started across the open space to see for herself, but as she drew closer her gait slowed. The mood here seemed not festive or intellectually engaged but angry and emotionally charged. She held back even as others ran forward, rushing toward the center of the action. Someone unseen was yelling words she could not make out, inciting the crowd, and at every lull in his speech, a roar of approval would issue from those in the front.
There was a huge cheer as a dancing woman seemed to levitate above the crowd, and for a brief moment Angela thought it was part of some magic show. Then she saw that the woman was not rising in the air and dancing; she was being hoisted by a rope tied around her neck. Her body thrashed about as the tightening rope was pulled over the limb of a pine tree.
It was Edna Wong.
Angela gasped audibly and nearly fell over. Nearby students turned to look at her, and on their faces she saw mingled expressions of disgust and satisfaction.
Edna was kicking her feet crazily, trying to gain purchase, though she was already more than ten feet in the air. Her fingers clutched at the noose around her neck, and the wild expression on her face was one of terror and incomprehension. Angela had never seen anything so awful, and she screamed at the top of her lungs, a cry from the depths of her soul, pushing her way through the assembled students toward the front of the crowd, shoving a cheering blond girl to the ground in a desperate instinctive effort to save the old woman.
Edna was jerking spasmodically, arms flailing, legs kicking out and back like those of a cancan girl, no longer making even a token effort to save herself- The crowd laughed as urine and excrement dropped from under the housing administrator's legs, her bladder voiding, her bowels evacuating as she died.
"No!" Angela cried.
"That'll teach you, you slant-eyed slut!" someone shouted in a thick New York accent. Angela saw a skinny student with a huge halo of hair tying the end of the rope to the trunk of the pine tree. She recognized him from her first day here. He'd walked by the housing office while she'd been waiting in line.
The throng cheered.
Now that she was in the midst of it, she saw black fuzzy patches on girls' blouses and on boys' pants, dark mold growing on arms and necks and cheeks. It was like being at a zombie rally, and while she was scared, she was more angry, and she started screaming at the people around her. "What are you doing? Murderers!"
A goateed guy next to her turned, his face contorted with hate, his hands balled into fists. "You stay out of it, you stupid brown bitch!"
Derek socked him in the stomach.
She didn't know where he had come from or how he had found her, but she was grateful he was here. Before the goateed guy could get up off the ground or the people around him could come to his assistance, Derek grabbed her hand and they were running, shoving their way through the crowd, elbowing people aside, making their way toward the parking lot and safety.
What had happened? How had it started? Where were the campus police? Angela's mind raced, bogged down with the impossible logistics of such a lynching, but no matter how she imagined the scenario, she could not seem to make the pieces fit. She and Derek broke free of the crowd and dashed between the two science buildings, circling back around on the outer sidewalk to the south parking lot. They were both completely out of breath from running, and with no one pursuing them, they slowed to a tired shuffle as they passed between the cars to Derek's Hyundai.
"It was Edna Wong," Angela said numbly. "They-"
"I know. I saw."
"So what do we do now?"