All We Have To Fear
by Gary D. Snyder
Chapter 8:
"This is bad," Jimmy said, as he took in the throng of people closing in. "Very bad."
"What are you saying?" asked Sheen. "With this many people attending our haunted house the field trip is in the bag!"
""No, Sheen," Miss Fowl corrected him. "Jimmy means that with this many people there's no telling what horrors might come out of that – that thing!" She pointed with a shaking finger at the dark structure on the school's front lawn.
"Well, then, what are we going to do?" Libby asked.
Jimmy had spotted his parents near the front to the approaching crowd and ran towards them. "Mom! Dad!" he called. "Stay back! This place is dangerous! You and everyone else have got to go back home before it's too late!"
Hugh and Judy Neutron halted in surprise at this outburst, but then started to laugh. "Great showmanship, son," Jimmy's father said as his son reached him. "There's nothing like building up the anticipation of the audience."
"No, Dad," Jimmy insisted. "You don't understand. You and everyone else here –"
Jimmy's father, however, had begun to reminisce and was oblivious to Jimmy's entreaties. "You know, I remember the first haunted house your mother and I went to together. Talk about scary!" He chuckled at the memory. "Your mother screamed like a girl when we went through."
"I was a girl," Judy Neutron pointed out. "And I wasn't the one who did all the screaming."
"Well, one of us did," replied Hugh, "and that's all that matters."
"Dad -" Jimmy tried again.
"There was one thing in that house I remember that scared the willies out of both of us," Hugh continued. "It was this guy, covered with slimy green gook that was supposed to dissolve anything, who was surrounded by the skeletons of his victims. That still gives me the shivers." He shuddered at the thought and then pointed towards the haunted house. "Hey, just like that guy! Great job on that costume, son."
Jimmy looked and saw a shape dripping with glowing green ooze emerging from the entrance to the house. With each step there came a sizzle and wisp of smoke as the creature's foot touched the grass, and angry hisses as drops of stray slime dropped to the ground. Jimmy's father watched with interest.
"What a great idea, Jimbo," he said. "A haunted house with take-out service! You should franchise that idea. You'd make millions!"
"I don't think that the groundskeeper will be too happy about all those burn marks on the lawn, though," Jimmy's mother pointed out. "It's probably going to be a nightmare to re-sod those burn spots."
"Mom! Dad!" Jimmy shouted.
"No need to yell, son," Hugh remonstrated him. "I just wanted to watch the monster. I mean, actor."
"That's just it!" Jimmy yelled. "It's not an actor! It's a real monster! You've got to get out of here!"
Jimmy's mother looked concerned but his father tried to sound reasonable. "Now, son, I doubt the school would have given permission for this event if there were going to be real monsters," he argued. "I mean, we'd have had to sign parental permission slips, or something." He looked up at the shambling creature which was now barely a dozen yards away. A faint, acrid smell drifted from it towards them. "Although," he went on, a bit shakily, "I have to admit if there…were…real monsters, then this would…" His voice shook more. "This would…probably…be…one…"
As Hugh's voice trailed away in terrified silence the creature closed in. An oozing blob of a hand clawed at his face, but Hugh wasn't there. Jimmy mother, realizing that her son was telling the truth, knocked Hugh away. The creature clawed only air although some loosened flecks of slime sprayed onto the ground, blackening the grass.
Before the monster could recover Jimmy's mother and father had moved backward out of range. "Run for it!" Jimmy yelled. "I'll catch up with you later!" A quick look showed that half a dozen other monsters had emerged from the haunted house and were making their way towards the startled crowed. Fortunately the slime monster had convinced most of them that things were not as they should be and most of the people fled back towards their homes. The few doubters were carried away by the fleeing mob, with the monsters in close pursuit.
Jimmy joined Sheen, Carl, Libby, and Miss Fowl who had watched the display from a distance and had been safely out of danger. Libby seemed puzzled that none of the abominations that had appeared had turned towards them and asked Jimmy about this. Jimmy shrugged. "I guess that the creatures are initially locked onto the brainwave frequency that created it," was Jimmy's theory.
"You guess?" Libby echoed.
"Hey, they shouldn't be here at all. I haven't even figured out why these things are appearing in the first place. It's only a theory that they go after the person who created them, but it makes sense."
Carl had been thinking about Jimmy's theory. "So you mean if I were afraid of mummies that the mummies would come after me and no one else?"
"Ca-a-arl!" squawked Miss Fowl.
"Don't worry, Miss Fowl," Jimmy reassured her. "It doesn't seem to affect Carl. Although I don't know why," he concluded, frowning.
"That's not what I meant," Miss Fowl corrected him. "What if someone else here was afraid of mummies, like…"
Sheen completed her sentence. "Like me," he said, pointing. "Look!"
From the entrance of the haunted house several unmistakable bandage forms appeared and began to shuffle towards them. In contrast to Sheen's look of abject fear Libby looked merely annoyed. "Them again?" she said in contempt. "I'll take care of this." She strode forward and called, "Yo! Dead guys! I thought I commanded you to sleep for five –"
"Ten," corrected Sheen, Carl, and Jimmy.
"- ten trillion years! Your queen is speaking here, so listen up and hit and the sack!" Libby stood her ground but the mummies continued to advance, albeit very slowly. "What's up with these guys?" she demanded. "I'm supposed to be their queen, word."
"I don't think that these are the same ones we met before," Jimmy said. "So we have only two choices. The first is to destroy them."
"What destroys mummies?" asked Sheen.
"Well, I think fire would be bad for them," suggested Carl. "They look pretty dry. Anyone have a match?"
Jimmy pointed out the obvious. "Carl, we're all eleven years old. We're not allowed to carry matches."
"And I don't smo-o-oke," Miss Fowl added.
"Shazbot!" lamented Sheen. "We wouldn't be in this mess if this were the 1950's. Curse this politically correct, health-conscious 21st century!"
"What was the second choice, Jimmy?" Libby asked as rejoined the group.
"Run for our lives!" Jimmy yelled. He looked towards the mummies, who were still a good ways off and still moving slowly. "Or walk for our lives. Whatever."
The others murmured assent and having no better place to go the five of them headed towards the school building. Miss Fowl unlocked the front door and, after everyone had entered, closed and locked it again. She stared through the doors at the mummies who were laboring painfully up the steps and shook her head. "How in the world can you be so afraid of something that moves slower than my own mother, Sheen?" she clucked.
"Hey, I don't know," Sheen answered defensively. "They just look creepy, is all. Haven't you ever wanted to stay away from something that was creepy even if you were sure that it couldn't really hurt you?"
"Well," Miss Fowl admitted as they all headed down the darkened hall towards her classroom, "I did have in-laws once."
Once inside the classroom Libby asked, "Should we turn on the lights?"
"Better not," said Sheen. "It might attract something."
"That makes sense," agreed Jimmy. "We don't really need light anyway. We just need to figure out what's going on and how to fix it."
Jimmy had scarcely finished speaking when a loud shriek pierced the darkness, followed by the loud smack of something being slapped. There was a confused scuffle immediately after, followed by Miss Fowl demanding, "What in the name of Granny Goodness is going on?"
"Sorry, Miss Fowl," Sheen's apologized sheepishly. "I didn't know Libby was sitting there."
"Like you don't know where your desk and my desk are," came Libby's indignant retort.
"You might see that it's dark in here!" Sheen said defensivly. "I mean, you can't see that it's…if you could see…you know what I mean!"
"How convenient," Libby shot back icily, "considering that it was you who suggested that we leave the lights off."
"Hey, it was an honest mistake!" Sheen protested.
"Well you just remember that it'll be the last honest mistake you make the next time you make it," huffed Libby.
"Are you two through?" demanded Jimmy. When no one answered, he went on. "Okay. First question is: what the heck is going on?"
"You machine is making monsters," Carl answered helpfully.
"Yes, but why? I only designed it to make people think there were monsters. How could what people are thinking about become real? And just as important, why?"
Sheen, still smarting from Libby's insinuations, wasn't being very helpful. "Hey, it's your machine. You tell us."
Jimmy's voice sounded very old. "I can't."
"Well," Libby said thoughtfully, "does it matter? Why not just turn the thing off?"
"I can think of one good reason," answered Miss Fowl. "Anyone who comes near that thing is going to create whatever they're afraid of."
"No problema," said Sheen. "It doesn't affect Carl. Let's send him to do it."
"No way," was Jimmy's emphatic reply. "If he doesn't know exactly how to shut the device off he could get hurt – or worse. And Miss Fowl is right. Anyone else would unleash more horrible things. And the closer they got, the worse they would be."
"But we're the good guys!" Sheen said. "The good guys always beat the bad guys, even if the bad guys are bigger and stronger and can pull your eyes out and snap your spine like a –"
"Zip it, Sheen!" Libby snapped.
"I appreciate your optimism, Sheen," Jimmy said quietly. "But as Damon Runyon once said –"
Libby, Sheen, and Carl spoke together. "Who?"
"Damon Runyon."
"I know Matt Damon," said Libby. "But who's this Runyon guy?"
"I know!" called out Carl in excitement. "He's that lumberjack guy with the big blue ox who made…paper towels…I think."
Miss Fowl's voice was scornful. "That's Paul Bunyan."
"Didn't Paul Bunyan make those shoe things for your feet?" Carl asked.
A steady, rhythmic thumping was heard. Sheen leaped to his feet in alarm. "It's the mummies at the door!" he cried out. "They've found us! They're trying to get in!"
"No, Sheen," Jimmy answered between the thumps. "It's just me, pounding my head against my desk and trying to wake up from this nightmare of illiteracy."
"Now, Jimmy," Miss Fowl reproached him, "Not everyone has heard of Damon Runyon. That was quite while back."
"Yeah, Jimmy," Carl agreed. "We're not all as old as Miss Fowl."
A vicious growl could now be heard from somewhere in the darkness and Sheen fidgeted nervously. "Oh, no," he whimpered. "The mummies have teamed up with werewolves. We're doomed!"
"No, Sheen," Miss Fowl answered in a strained tone. "It's just me, figuring out how much detention to give Ca-a-arl once we get out of this mess!"
"But who is this Damon Runyon guy?" Carl insisted.
"He was a writer. Some Hollywood movies were based on his stories, like A Pocketful of Miracles, Guys and Dolls…"
"I know that one!" Sheen called out in excitement. He began singing off-key,
"I got the horse right here
And though his name's not clear
I can tell you all about him if you wanna hear,
Can do. Can do –"
Libby clapped her hands over her ears. "Can we have the mummies back instead?"
"If we can get back to the subject at hand," Jimmy interjected, "another reason we can't just shut off the Phobifier 5000 is because it wouldn't necessarily get rid of any of these things that are already here."
Libby sighed. "Well, I'm out of ideas."
"Same here," agreed Sheen dismally.
"Me, too," added Miss Fowl.
"If only Cindy were here," Carl said sadly. "She might be able to think of something we haven't."
"Yes," Jimmy agreed. "Cindy might…" His voice trailed off. "Wait a minute. Cindy." There was a brief pause as Jimmy thought about it. "Cindy is the key. That could be it. That must be it! Why didn't I think of it before?"
There came a long silence and the other began to fidget impatiently. "Well, don't just leave us hanging, Jimmy," Libby said at last. "What are you thinking?"
There was no answer.
"Come on, come on, Jimmy," urged Miss Fowl uncertainly. "You're starting to scare us. And that's not really a good thing at the moment."
When no answer came Libby stood up and headed to the light switch. "I don't care if something comes by," she said angrily. "I want to see what's what, all." There was the sharp snap of a switch and the classroom lights came on, causing them all to blink as their eyes adjusted to the unaccustomed brilliance. When they could see again Carl, Libby, Sheen, and Miss Fowl gasped.
Jimmy was nowhere to be seen.
End of Chapter 8
Author's Notes:
It's generally accepted that a good horror story (or pseudo-horror story) should lighten the tone from time to time. The theory is that after a while of unrelenting seriousness people are fatigued by what's going on and stop caring about how it will turn out. Good or bad, they just want it to end, and if need be will end it themselves by walking away.
The Damon Runyon adage that Jimmy was going to allude to can be found in a book by Paul Dickson called "The Official Rules" under "Runyon's Law". The rule, which paraphrases Ecclesiastes 9:11, states, "The race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, but that's the way to bet."
As to what Sheen was singing you'd have to listen to the lyrics from real song in Guys and Dolls to get it. There was a Broadway revival of the show a few years ago starring Matthew Broderick so people younger than Miss Fowl might be familiar with it.
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