Chapter Three
"Halloween
In the death of the night hear me scream
I'm coming, I'm coming
Halloween
Is the fear that I fight in my dream
Keep running, Keep running
Just keep running, oh keep on running, yeah
Just keep running
Just keep running, oh keep on running, yeah
Just keep running"
A week passed, and then another few days, with no goblins jumping out of darkened alleyways. Hodgins' analysis of Dr. Brennan's roses came back with no clues out of the ordinary. The "blood" was a corn syrup mixture, artificially dyed red. The black roses had been grafted, but the red were natural. No fingerprints came off the box, or the note.
"Another dead end," Booth had said.
"Not necessarily," Brennan said. "We might still come across something."
Booth shrugged absentmindedly. He was glad Bones hadn't been hurt, and that she was taking the box of "death roses," as she called them, with a grain of salt. That didn't mean that he'd forgotten about the maliciousness of its intentions, however. "Red corn syrup is the best ingredient they can come up with for bleeding roses? That seems so 80's or 90's horror movie, don't you think?" he tried to joke. Brennan raised an eyebrow. "I think I prefer the chocolate syrup they used in the Psycho shower scene. Looked more realistic without actually being realistic. Bones, why are you still giving me that look?"
"Psycho?"
"Don't tell me you've never heard of Psycho. Come on, Bones. It's a movie from 1960. It starred Janet Leigh. It was in black and white. No dice? Norman Bates Hotel. Alfred Hitchcock. Come on!" He stamped his foot and crossed his arms.
She shrugged. "No. I guess I never got around to seeing it."
"Never? What about The Exorcist? I bet you'd have fun dissecting that one. I'll add it to our list."
"Booth, what list?"
"Our scary movies to watch this Halloween list, Bones. Duh." He rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, a smile betraying his lips. "How about The Shining? Jack Nicholson. Redrum! Redrum! Ooh, what about Halloween? Michael Myers?" He started humming the theme.
"'Redrum'? I'm not familiar with that word. And stop humming. It sounds creepy."
"That's why you have to see the movie."
"Booth, when are we going to have time to watch this growing list of movies? We have the annual Jeffersonian Halloween Charity Ball on the thirty-first."
"Well, okay. What about the thirtieth? You, me, maybe even the Squints? Some popcorn, Raisinettes, a plastic pumpkinful of Halloween candy, a couple bottles of Merlot? What do you say?"
"Well..."
"What, do you have a date or something?" Booth asked playfully.
"No. It's just that, work—"
"Nah. Stop right there. You work all the time, Bones. You work in your sleep. Relax once. Have a little fun."
Brennan huffed. "I don't always work in my sleep, Booth. And besides—"
Booth hushed her. "So it's a date. You want to tell the Squints or do you want me to?" He winked.
"I didn't say yes," Brennan had called after him.
"But you didn't say no, either," Booth smiled on his way out.
Angela was still walking gingerly, but she no longer needed painkillers. The bruises on her knees had faded from purple to an olive color, and the few cuts that needed stitches were on their way to healing. Sketchbook in hand, she ambled by Cam, who was on her way to Zach's office with an armload of mail.
"Hey, Dr. Sayoran. Do you need any help?"
Cam shook her head. "Do you?"
"No. I'm just on my way to run a sketch by Dr. Brennan."
"Okay. I'd like to take a look too. Is that a possible ID on our teenage runaway?" Angela nodded. "I'll meet you in Dr. Brennan's office after I see Zach."
Cam stopped in the doorway of Zach's office/ extra lab. She knocked on the doorframe to get his attention, as he was bent over calculations. "Oh, Dr. Sayoran. Hello." He stood up straight.
She smiled. "Hello, Zacharoni. I just stopped at the mailroom to get my mail, and I picked yours up too."
"Thank you, Dr. Sayoran." Zach furrowed his brow.
"Why? That's what you're wondering?" She couldn't help being amused.
"Well, yes. But I appreciate—"
"Your package from Chemerica arrived. I know you were waiting for it, so you can conduct some experiments that you will first be clearing with me." She raised an eyebrow.
"Of course," Zach stuttered. He seemed a little embarrassed when he took the package from her. "Um. Did you want to stand by while I open it?"
Cam smiled. "No, that won't be necessary." She started to leave.
"Dr. Sayoran? This wouldn't have anything to do with those, uh, recent pranks, like the box of flowers sent to Dr. Brennan, would it?"
"Don't forget my car," Cam rolled her eyes. "The detailing should be done one of these days." She sighed. "I just wanted to see your box personally, is all. I was assured by the mailroom that it came in with the other packages this morning via Fed Ex Ground. So it's not from a ghost."
"Like Dr. Brennan's box? Is that what you think?"
Cam laughed. "It's just an expression, Zacharoni." She left.
Zach set the Chemerica package on his lab table. Distractedly, he finished his calculations while retrieving a letter opener from beneath a stack of papers. He used one hand to cut the packing tape on one side, then set the letter opener down to make a correction to his pencil scratches. Satisfied, he went back to opening the box. The tape sealing the box was hard to cut, and Zach found he had to saw at it to even come halfway open. He figured it would be better if he could tear it open from the inside. He wriggled his hand under the flaps, surprised that his fingers didn't touch any packing material. When his hand just past his wrist was in the box, Zach's skin went clammy. His fingers brushed something unexpected; he was expecting the cool bottles of chemical supplies, or the bubble wrap they would be wound in. Something shifted beneath his palm, pressing a scratchy, furry ball against his fingers. It was almost like reaching for a bottle of iodine and ending up with a handful of steel wool. He didn't know what to make of it at first, but it wasn't a sensation he liked. Gripping the box with his left hand, he pulled his right hand back towards the box's partial opening. The contents, whatever it was, wasn't ready to let his arm go. Zach felt the thing— it was alive— latch onto his wrist, locking tight like a bracelet. A beaded line of sweat marched across Zach's forehead as he slowly worked to free his hand from the box. The flap tore a little more as Zach got his hand free— and then he heard a loud hiss, right before his furry bracelet sunk its teeth into his wrist.
Zach bit his lip, determined not to scream, and examined his wrist at arm's length. The thing was a huge brown squirming chunk, which was sending creepy-crawly sensations up and down his body. It was dangling by two of its legs, which looked like black velvet, its body stretching halfway up his arm. Zach felt a little ill and shook his arm vigorously, which angered the creature. It hissed and bit down before turning its beady black eyes towards Zach's face. Zach let the tiniest cry escape his lips, in fear, not pain; but it was guttural, struggling to hoist itself from his throat, like a growl. His face went white, and he felt a cold sweat under his armpits. Had he made the cry or was it this creature? He shook his arm, and the thing let go of his wrist— and scurried up his arm towards his face.
Zach's jaw dropped open, a labored breath falling out of his mouth— in and out, like he was choking. He watched it come at it him as if paralyzed. The creature was the size of a textbook, with a brown hairball like body and eight black legs, black eyes and small triangular teeth. Just inches from his chin, the shock gave way to panic; his mind screaming, Run! Run!! Zach let out a gurgling sound and turned quickly, but his legs were numb. The creature fell off him, brushing the skin on his arms all the way down to the floor. This time he did scream, just once, before he fell down in a dead faint.