Adam wasn’t sure he believed that, but he wanted to, and he was willing to let his friend have the benefit of the doubt. In his mind he went back over every second of the incident, and the more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that Scott was right. Hell, the high schoolers hadn’t even chased them down the slope. They’d only run across the street and behind the buildings before stopping. It had been nothing more than a laugh for them, a joke.
Most of them were probably so high they wouldn’t even remember it tomorrow.
Scott let out a wheezy, winded laugh. “Had enough exercise for one night?”
“I’ve had enough for a month.”
They both laughed and sat there for a few moments longer, breathing heavily, not saying anything but remaining unmoving, looking back down the canyon floor to make sure no one was coming, until their breaths grew more shallow and finally faded into normal silence.
“What time is it?” Adam asked. “You got a watch?”
“No. Why? What time do you have to be home?”
“Now, probably.” Adam stood. “Come on, let’s head back.”
Scott got up off the ground, brushed the sand off his pants, and the two of them started up the curving road toward the tiered rows of houses above.
“You heard about what happened to Mrs. Daniels, didn’t you?” Scott asked as they reached the first home.
Adam shook his head. “Never even head of her.”
“She was pregnant and she went into labor, and she was supposed to have a little girl.” His voice lowered ominously. “But it wasn’t a girl.”
“What was it? A boy?”
“It wasn’t even a baby.” He pointed toward the next house up, a small wood-frame home with darkened windows. “It was right there, man. Right in that house.”
“You’re crazy.”
“It was a cactus. She gave birth to a cactus.”
“No way!” Adam said.
“That’s what happened. They’re trying to keep it secret and not let anyone know, but she had a saguaro instead of a baby. A little saguaro cactus with a baby’s face.”
“How do you know?”
“My dad’s friend is a paramedic, and I heard them talking about it. He said it was the freakiest thing he’d ever seen.”
“Was it… alive?”
“I guess not. But she was all cut up, and it came out of her, and it had, like, little feet and hands and a face.”
“Jesus.”
They were silent for a moment as they walked past the house.
“This whole fucking town’s haunted,” Scott said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
There was a pause.
“Your house is haunted.”
“No way.”
“Way.”
“Really?”
Scott nodded. “No one’s been able to stay there more than a few months. The people who lived there before, the original people, were all murdered. The dad offed the rest of the family while they were sleeping and then wasted himself. Ever since then, people only last a little while. They get scared off.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
Scott shrugged. “Didn’t think you could take it.”
“So they, like, see things and hear things? Like ghosts and stuff?”
Scott nodded. “You ever see anything?”
Adam thought about mentioning the banya, but he didn’t feel like talking about it right now and decided to save it for another time. He shook his head. “Not yet.”
“You will. Take my word for it. Your house is haunted.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not lying.”
Adam looked at him, and the corners of his mouth slowly turned up in a smile. “Cool,” he said.
Six
1
“Shit,” Paul said softly.
The stage lights had fallen during the night, the troupers they’d spent all yesterday rigging. Not only had they fallen, but they’d broken—every last damn one of them.
They stood looking at the damage, the dented casings and shattered glass, the overturned tables and cushion-ripped chairs. Gregory bent down, picked up a bent bracket, examined it.
“You must’ve put them in wrong,” Paul said.
Odd shook his head. “We installed those according to spec and added a few new specs of our own. There’s no way this could’ve happened.”
“Well, it did happen, obviously.”
“Someone musta broken in.”
“No one broke in.” Paul kicked at the broken glass with his boot. “Jesus, it looks like a damn earthquake hit this place.”
“A couple of these bolts sheared off,” Gregory said. He held up the bracket and two bolt heads. “This might not have been the cause of it, but even if this bracket bent on its own, the bolts should’ve been able to handle the extra pressure. They’re supposed to be designed for these things.”
Paul sighed. “I don’t need this crap.”
Gregory forced himself to smile. “No problem. We’ll just replace them. I’ll drive over to Tucson and—”
Paul shook his head. “I can’t let you do that. You’ve already wasted enough money on this. It’s my place and my responsibility. I’m thinking we’d be better off to bag the whole project.”
“Bullshit. You didn’t let me finish. I’ll drive to Tucson, explain what happened, show them what we have, and if they won’t replace everything, then I’ll buy new lights. The way I see it, this whole thing is the fault of poor workmanship on their part. We installed a faulty product. I’m going to emphasize that people could’ve been killed, tell ’em I’m going to report them to the Better Business Bureau and whatever other agency I can think of. I think they’ll fork over a new set.”
“But do we want a new set?” Odd asked. “You’re right. I think this here’s a faulty product. I think we should try to get our money back and buy something else.”
“We could,” Gregory agreed. “But the point is, we shouldn’t overreact. This is only a temporary setback. It isn’t the end of the world, and we shouldn’t let it derail our plans.”
Odd nodded. “Exactly.”
“Of course you guys say that, but I’m the owner,” Paul said gloomily. “I’m the one who pays the insurance bills, and it’s my ass if someone gets hurt because of this.”
“No one’s going to get hurt,” Gregory told him.
“By the time we’re through,” Odd promised, “kids’ll be able to use this thing for a jungle gym and it won’t even sway.”
Gregory took a deep breath. “I could chip in for insurance if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Paul waved him away. “I’m not looking for a co-owner.”
“And I don’t want to be one.”
Paul picked up one of the broken spotlight casings. “Look, let’s get this cleaned up, call the lighting company, and see where we go from there.”
“All right,” Gregory said. He went with Odd to get broom, shovel, and dustpan from the maintenance closet between the men’s and women’s rest rooms, and after taking Polaroids of the overall damage and close-ups of the broken bolts and bent brackets, the three of them spent the better part of the morning cleaning up. The outside tables and those closest to the counter and register weren’t affected, and Paul cordoned off the area of damage with yellow rope so that the morning’s customers would not be inconvenienced.
The place had potential, Gregory thought. The café’s space was easily big enough to accommodate forty or fifty people, and Odd had done a great job of building the small stage against the wall to the left of the counter. Despite Paul’s worries and reservations, they’d gone too far to turn back now, and he knew that his friend would not pull the plug on the project at this point.