107
Sniffing and scampering, Zipper led the way.
Judy and Mrs. McKenna were right behind him. They ran back onto the set, past the ghost lamp, into the wings at stage right.
The monster who had been screaming behind the curtains was, thankfully, gone.
But the stage manager’s desk had been demolished.
Zipper sniffed. The desk. The stool. The floor. He circled a few times. Made up his mind. Headed right. Kept running.
Into the scenery shop.
“Zack?” Judy hollered. “Zack?”
“Shhh!”
It was Mr. Kimble. The janitor. He was standing in the center of the shop, slowing uncoiling cable from the drum on a mechanical winch.
“Where’s my son?” Judy whispered.
Kimble gestured at the hole in the floor.
108
“Say the words, Derek,” Grimes hissed.
Derek coughed. “I can’t.”
“Say them!”
“Don’t, Derek!” Meghan pleaded. “They want to kill us! I don’t think they can if you don’t say their stupid words.”
“Silence, foolish girl! Derek?”
“Yes, sir?” He wheezed.
“My grandfather is counting on me. I am counting on you.” He fed him his first line: “O, magnus Molochus.”
All Derek could do was hack up another cough.
“Derek?” He could see the rage boiling up in his director’s very disappointed face.
“Maybe if you extinguished the charcoal, sir,” he suggested. “I’m allergic to smoke.”
109
Zack was descending slowly, sitting in a rope harness attached to the winch line.
Suddenly, he was hit by a spotlight. A follow spot, like they used in musicals so you could see the star better.
Or in prison movies when people tried to escape.
“It’s the Jennings boy!” screamed Grimes. “Badir? Jamal? Shoot him!”
Zack threw up his hands. “Wait! Don’t shoot! I was born under a full moon, too!”
“What?”
“I was born under a full moon! I would’ve told you sooner but I just found out. My mother told me.”
He heard Derek hacking up a storm.
“Let Derek go. He’s too sick to say your words. I’ll do it! I’ll say it!”
Grimes hesitated.
“O, magnus Molochus!” Zack shouted. “See? I almost have the script memorized.”
For some reason, Grimes looked at the floor.
Then Zack heard the most hideously grisly voice say, “He will do. He will do just fine.”
110
Judy, Mr. Kimble, and Meghan’s mom were kneeling on three sides of the open trapdoor.
Zipper sat on the fourth side.
“What’s Zack doing down there?” Judy asked.
“Bein’ mighty brave, you ask me,” said Mr. Kimble.
She looked around the scene shop. Saw the crate. Read the stenciled warning.
“Then we’d better help him!” She stood up and dragged the box closer to the trapdoor.
111
Zack pretended he was the one operating the cable, lowering the harness.
“Let Derek go!” he said to Grimes as soon as his feet touched the floor. Or else I’ll change my mind.”
Again Grimes looked to the floor. “Grandpa?”
Zack could see through the floor. Down below, there was an old man with a purple towel wrapped around his head. The throbbing glow from a fire smoldering under his feet deepened the furrows in his face and made him look terrifying.
“Can I let the other boy go, Grandpa?” Grimes asked.
The demon under the floor sneered up at Derek. He flicked out his tongue. “Fine.” He huffed. “Let the coward run away. He won’t get far.”
“Hey!” Derek protested. Then he heaved a raspy wheeze.
Zack put his hand on Derek’s shoulder. “Go upstairs, Derek.”
“What? I want to help you guys!”
“You know, I’ll never forget when we first met,” Zack said, sounding all choked up. “How you gunned your little truck.”
“What?”
“Go upstairs. Play with your truck.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Go. Gun. Your truck.”
Derek stared at Zack. Zack raised his eyebrows. Twice.
“Oh.” Finally. Derek understood what Zack was trying to tell him. “Yeah. My truck. Good idea.” He bolted for the open door, running faster than anyone with allergies should be able to.
“How you holding up?” Zack whispered to Meghan.
“This is scary, Zack. They want to toss us on the grill.”
“I know. It’s what they did to Juggler Girl. Mr. Kimble told me.”
“Silence!” Grimes shouted. “We have wasted enough time. The dog moon has risen. It is time for the hounds of hell to rise with it! Say the words.”
Zack needed to buy a little more time. Not much. Just enough.
“Hakeem? Hand him the scroll!”
The swarthy man handed Zack a rolled-up tube of ancient papyrus.
“Recite the words!”
Zack adjusted his glasses and dropped the scroll. The brittle document shattered.
“Whoops. Sorry!”
He bent over to pick up the pieces off the floor. Scanned the room. Two guys with guns.
He wished there was only one. They’d have a better chance with just one. Two was going to be tough. He looked up at the trapdoor.
Very tough. Maybe impossible.
“Hurry up, Zack Jennings!” snarled a familiar demon: Mad Dog Murphy. He and his electric chair were under the floor with the others. “I told you I’d be comin’ back to get you, boy!”
They’d have one chance. One shot.
“Mr. Jennings?” said Grimes. “Recite the words! Now! Miss McKenna? Prepare to enter the vast unknown!”
“No!” said Meghan. “I won’t do it. You can’t make me!”
One of the thugs raised his gun, pointed it at Meghan’s heart. He cocked the trigger. Zack heard the sharp metallic click.
“Wait!” said Zack. “If you shoot Meghan, Moloch won’t get his live human sacrifice!”
“Give me that gun!” Grimes wrestled the revolver out of the muscleman’s hand. “The boy’s right! The ritual will only work if we exchange their lives for the lives of those down below.” He hurled the pistol into the fire pit under the grill.
The gunpowder inside the shells exploded like lethal popcorn. Zack heard five bullets ping against metal.
Good.
Meant they only had one gun now.
“Are you happy, little Miss Movie Star?” Grimes screamed. “Nobody’s going to shoot you. We’re just going to roast you alive like my father tried to roast me! Like he roasted my sister!”
A sixth bullet exploded.
That was when Zack heard metal start to screech.
Up near the top of the statue.
Near its mouth.
112
“This isn’t good,” said Judy, peering down at her stepson.
“Hold on,” said Kimble. “Steady.”
Zipper sank to his belly. Whined.
“Did that statue just move?” asked Mrs. McKenna.
Judy nodded. “This definitely isn’t good.”
113
A deafening squeal echoed off the walls. Metal twisting and turning against metal. The bull’s muzzle creaked open.
“Moloch has girls,” rumbled a voice deeper than a canyon at the bottom of the ocean.
Even Grimes seemed amazed.
The statue was talking.
“Have girls. Need boy.”
Grimes stepped forward. “You have girls?”
The bull’s head nodded once with a thunderous clatter.
“The child my grandfather sacrificed. Plus my sister?”