Suckers - Jack Kilborn [22]
Roger and I got out of the van with our flashlights and walked toward the house. “You’re a jerk,” I informed him.
“Oh, now, you’re just jealous because I came up with the idea first. Remember in high school when we went looking for Bigfoot? That was fun, wasn’t it?”
“It wasn’t Bigfoot; it was the Loch Ness Monster. And you thought it was swimming around in the sewers, so no, I don’t recall it being all that much fun. You certainly were dumb as a kid, weren’t you?”
“Okay, well, I have an important question.”
“What?”
“Where exactly would you wear the gummi worms? I mean, if you were running around City Hall naked you’d be way too nervous to maintain an—”
“Shut up, Roger.”
We stepped up onto the front porch. I knocked on the door.
“You think the ghost is going to answer?” Roger asked.
“We don’t know that nobody lives here. There could be drug dealers inside. Do you really want to walk in on some drug dealers? Drug dealers have guns, you know.”
“You’re right,” said Roger. “Good thinking on the drug dealer situation.”
No drug dealers or ghosts answered, so I tested the doorknob. Unlocked. That wasn’t particularly surprising…we certainly weren’t the first people to think of exploring the Taywood house, though we were probably the only ones who’d fully completed puberty.
I pushed the door open, and it let out the traditional horror movie creak. I flipped the light switch by the doorway, just in case the electric company continued to supply power out of a sense of generosity, but nothing happened. Roger and I turned on our flashlights and stepped inside.
The house was mostly barren, save for one torn couch and about eighty pounds of dust in the living room alone. The walls were also covered with graffiti that was remarkably clever despite artistic and grammar limitations.
I have to admit, though, something about the house didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel abandoned. I didn’t believe in ghosts, but I definitely got the sense that there was some kind of presence in the house. Of course, it was probably the presence of rats.
“Well, I’ve explored about all I can handle for one evening,” I said. “How about we head back to the van?”
Roger grinned. “Are you scared?”
“I’m scared of what Helen’s gonna do to me when she finds out I dragged the kids out here, yeah!”
“The kids are safe in the van with Mrs. Glencrest. You’re being a perfectly responsible, mature parent. Don’t worry about it.”
I almost asked how he remembered her name, but I was pretty sure the answer would only reveal my inadequate social skills. I shined my flashlight around the room. “Well, Rog, I’m seeing a lot of dust and not much else. How much more exploring do you want to do?”
“We’ve at least got to go upstairs. That’s where the ghost of Jarvis was sighted.”
“There is no ghost. And it’s Jervis.”
“No, it’s not. Jarvis Taywood.”
“No, sorry, but I’m afraid it’s…oh, no, wait, you’re right. My bad.”
“C’mon, Andrew, you’ve got to admit you’re having fun. We don’t get out like this very often anymore. You don’t want your children to think their father is a total wuss, do you?”
“Oh no, I’d much rather have them think their father is a total idiot.”
We wandered into the kitchen, which still had a refrigerator and oven but no other furnishings. Roger opened the pantry door, revealing lots more dust, some cobwebs, and a few cans of various fruits and vegetables resting on the shelves.
“Canned goods from beyond the grave,” Roger pointed out.
“Spooky. Let’s go upstairs and get this over with.”
As we walked upstairs, I had to admit to myself that exploring a dark, reportedly haunted house really was kind of fun…not that I was going to admit it to anybody else. The stairs didn’t creak as we walked up them, which kind of hampered the mood, but the upstairs was plenty dust-covered and eerie.
We walked into the master bedroom, which had a bed frame but no mattress. “This is where they saw him,” Roger said. “Do you feel anything…watching you?”
I shook