"How much does this dang fool thing cost?" Amitha says.
"I already told you," Albert replies. "Can't you hush up, woman? First you say I'm cheap, then you complain when I spend money."
Amitha spits on the grass and pulls out a cigar. A long flame shoots from her hand, scorching the cigar tip. Albert steps back out of harm's way. What is she using, a blow torch?
"We need to secure the grove," Albert says. "I've got suspicions that some oranges might have been stolen."
I hold my breath. Amitha turns suddenly alert, like a mangy cat seeing a mouse scoot by.
"Yeah?" she says.
"Yeah!" Albert says. "We sure don't want nobody poking around in there now. It'll be time for the planting soon."
"Sooner the better," Amitha mumbles with the cigar hanging out the side of her mouth.
"There's some bad weather moving in, too," Albert says. "We gotta get this done fast."
A minute passes without further talk. Amitha puffs her El Stinko, and Albert whacks off dandelion heads with his cane. Then he notices me.
"What are you doing out here, boy?" he says.
The familiar knot grips my stomach. "I just hung up the rug, sir. It's too big for the dryer."
He looks at the rug, seems to buy the excuse.
"Did you find out anything new?"
"No, sir. Sorry."
I'd been so rattled by last night's events that I hadn't even thought about a cover story. Another dumb mistake! Then a plausible tale pops up from my memory.
"Mr. Ponge spent the night watching pornography," I say. "Real hard core stuff. Mrs. Ponge turned in early."
"That figures," Albert grunts, "damned low life."
Before he can say anything else, a small truck pulls up on the road shoulder.
"Delivery for Albert Grech!" the driver calls.
"That's me!"
Albert hobbles over.
The man climbs into the back of the truck. When he jumps back down, he's holding a leash with a very large and vicious looking dog attached. I retreat toward the house.
"Wait there, boy," Albert says.
He takes the leash. Immediately, the dog heads straight for me, dragging Albert along.
"Slow down, you lousy mutt!" Albert yells. "Heel!"
The dog slows, allowing itself to be guided. Albert brings it right up to me. My flesh crawls as the brute sniffs me up and down. My sweat becomes a clammy torrent.
"Let him get a good look and smell," Albert says. "Then he won't bark every time he sees you. I can't stand dogs barking all the time."
I force myself to remain still while every cell in my body screams for me to run. The dog is built like an overgrown German shepherd, only jet black, and it has incredible silver gray eyes.
The look in those eyes says that their owner aches to tear me apart. The look in Albert's eyes says that he would enjoy giving the command.
"He'll attack anybody, except me, who enters the grove." Albert yanks the dog back a few inches. "So keep out of there, boy, unless you want to die horrible."
"Y-yes sir."
Albert smiles.
19: The Storm
All night, a storm blasts the area with pounding rain and hail. Lightening rips the sky, joined by fearsome thunder crashes. The end of the world seems to have come, and I do not dare to venture outside. All I can do is wonder what terrors the next lightning flash might reveal outside my window.
The attic is an echo chamber of horrors. Water drips on me from the leaky roof, but I am too scared to move from the window into the dark corners. At one point, I see a huge funnel cloud raging past, its tip skimming low above the ground.
"Hit the orchard!" I cry. "Tear it up!"
But the tornado passes by without touching down. Then, just as the uproar seems like it can't get any worse, a tremendous explosion rocks the world - like an atomic bomb going off. A blinding flash, I tumble onto the floor. I can't see what's happened, but something big must have been hit.
Through it all, the house remains still and silent as a tomb, nobody talking or moving around. No lights come on, not even a candle. I seem to be the only living thing in this House of the Damned. I consider fleeing to the basement but decide against it. If the house is blown to kingdom come, I'm not all that opposed to going out, too.
And the devil dog lurking in his hut. The Ponge across the road with Doctor Frankenstein in their shed. Me and Cyndy. The ring is closing in.
20: Calm Between the Storms
By morning, there is plenty of clean up work to do. Water has leaked through the windows and roof. Floors have to be mopped, curtains taken down and laundered, furniture dragged outside to dry in the sun.
I do all this myself, of course, but Amitha is happy to supervise. Marnie stays in the kitchen slamming things around. Albert spends the whole day in the grove clearing broken branches and stuff. The devil dog follows him around like an obedient puppy.
The orange trees have not suffered major damage, unfortunately, but the big oak north of the house is split down the middle like a banana. That must have been the atomic bomb last night. I feel kind of sorry for the old tree. Then again, maybe it was happy to get blasted rather than keep living in this awful neighborhood.
Albert returns in an outstandingly foul mood.
"I've worked hard to get where I am," he gripes. "It's a hard world out there, and nobody ever gave me a break!"
There are no replies. Even Amitha keeps her mouth shut.
"You work hard, sacrifice, then somebody else takes the gravy!" Albert whines, gesturing across the road toward the Ponge house.
That's right, sucker, I think, I plan to take your gravy real soon.
Albert's self-pity trip is too much for Amitha. She breaks her silence.
"You think this has been a picnic for me, Albert Grech?" she shrieks. "All I do is slave all day long, and what do I have to show for it? This dump of a house and a barbed wire fence, that's what!"
Give me a break, you old witch!
Dinner is brief, and everybody turns in early - except me, of course.
***
Soon after dark, I squish my way across the road to the Ponge tool shed. Cyndy meets me at the door. As always, the first glimpse of her gives me a thrill.
"Where were you last night?" she demands.
I quickly feel a lot less thrilled.
"There was a slight bit of rain," I say. "You may have noticed. I didn't want to end up like that oak tree across the road."
"I could have used your help, Billy."
Man, she just won't let it go!
I enter the shed. The place is lit by scented candles, the smells of vanilla and peach have replaced the rotten stink from the other night.
"Good evening, Billy," a mellow voice says.
I spin around. A fairly normal looking, though greenish, man is sitting in the corner, smiling at me.
"I am Professor Jonathan Rackenfauz, Ph.D.," he says. "I want to thank you for rescuing me."
He stretches out a hand. I hesitate before taking it. The hand is gnarled and hard, but the sharp tips are gone from the fingers.
"You're welcome," I say. "How are you doing?"
"Never better, thanks to you two," he says. "I think I'll be up walking before long."
"Glad to hear that, uh ... Professor," I say.
Exactly how were you supposed to talk to a guy that you've dug out of the ground?
He sure looks better. He's gained weight, and most of the twig things have come out of his skin. He is clean and dressed in faded overalls. His hair is tied back in a pony tail, and his beard is neatly trimmed.
"The Professor has been talking about his background," Cyndy says. "If you'd been here earlier you would have heard it, Billy."
"I can start over," the Professor says. "It's best that you both hear the full story."
Cyndy rolls her eyes as if to say: "Why bother explaining things again just for this dope?"
Thanks, Cyndy.
The Professor seems to be about 50 and not bad looking, if you don't mind his weird complexion. Maybe he can start a new fashion trend - the green look. People just might be messed up enough to go for that.
I notice some empty glass jars on the floor.
"Do you have any more food, Cyndy?" I ask.
"Yeah. I've got to be careful sneaking it out, though," she says. "Would you like some more, Professor?"
"I'm fine for now," he says.
"Canning was about all Aunt Sally used to do," Cyndy says, "there's still a good supply in the basement. But ever since they started eating those oranges, she just drags around like a zombie."
"Ah yes, the oranges," Rackenfauz says. "That's what I want to tell you about."
My ears pick up, and I forgot all about the canned food.
21: The Professor's Story
"Let me tell you up front," the Professor says, "I was the one who created those trees."
A gigantic wave of anger slams into me.
"What?" My hands ball into fists. "I should stick you back in the ground, right now!"
Cyndy steps between me and Rackenfauz.
"Just listen to him, Billy. You might learn something important."
"I don't blame you for being angry," the Professor says. "I admit that everything is my fault."
"Thanks a lot," I say. "That's very ... big of you."
I want to slug the guy, or at least shout a few nasty words. But I push my fury back down, like some ugly Jack returning to its box. If this bum really has "something important" to say, I need to hear it.
"Go ahead, talk," I snarl.
Rackenfauz shifts position and yanks a twig out of his forearm. It makes a disgusting little pop! as it comes free.
"I spent many years in South America researching plants," he says. "My dream was to discover new substances to benefit mankind. I had some small successes and even published my discoveries. But then I started getting arrogant. That must be why I was so easily led astray."
"Who did that?" Cyndy asks.
The Professor's face hardens. "Albert Grech!"
He seems about to turn violent, so I take a step back. The guy might be more dangerous than he looks. He drinks some juice from a glass jar to steady himself.
"I shouldn't make excuses," he says. "To be totally honest, I led myself astray with my big stupid ego. But I wanted so much to be famous. Is that so bad?"
"Let me be totally honest," I say. "I'm in deep trouble because of those trees, so cut the self pity routine."
Cyndy gives me a sharp look. "Don't be such a snot!"
The Professor holds up a hand. "No, he's right, Cyndy. I deserved that."
He shifts position again and spends a few seconds massaging his knees and wiggling his toes around. Finally he starts talking again.
"I met Albert and Amitha Grech in a town by my research station. They were slumming around the world and persuaded me to hire them as assistants. I needed the help, and Marnie, my wife, liked them, too."
"The Marnie?" I say. "That horrible cook at the Grech house?"
The Professor strokes his forehead, and his greenish shade fades a little.
"This might surprise you, Billy," he says, "but she was rather attractive once, before she threw in with the Grech."
"Uh huh." My sympathy is strictly limited.
"Anyway," Rackenfauz says, "at Albert's urging, my research turned toward developing the 'Tree of Life.'"
"What's that?" Cyndy and I ask together.
"A tree that gives power and extended life," the Professor says. "There's a lot more than science in that big tree, let me tell you. There's evil magic from the dark forest. Wicked characters helped me create it, but I was too obsessed to understand what I was doing."
"What about all the other trees?" I ask.
"They're offspring," Rackenfauz said, "sap producers. There's only one main tree."
"Czar Albert," I say.
"Yes ... that's a good name for it," Rackenfauz says.
"What about those oranges?" Cyndy asks.
Rackenfauz waves his hand.
"Mere appetizers. That's why we planted the orchard outside the tropics, so that the real power would stay inside the trees. Once you process the sap, then you'll have the pure stuff of the devil. It'll give you great physical strength, extend your life - and destroy your soul!"
He's getting all worked up, like some TV preacher talking about the terrors of hell. Well, couldn't I tell him a thing or two about that?
I look at Cyndy, then back at the door. The Professor calms himself with another slug of juice.
"I finally wised up," he says. "When I learned what Albert was plotting to do, I decided to poison the trees. Albert found out somehow - from Marnie probably - and he knocked me senseless. I regained consciousness to discover that I'd been buried alive. April first, it was. Some April fool joke on me, huh?"
"You were down there four months?" Cyndy gasps.
The Professor nods.
"I was supposed to die and get sucked up as fertilizer, but the Czar didn't kill me. It tried to turn me into something monstrous - it knew that I was its creator, and it hated me. I fought back in my mind, though."
He taps his chest. "You can see what it did to my body! I'd about given up the struggle when I heard your footsteps, so I called out."
"That scared us half to death," Cyndy says.
"Thank God you listened to me," Rackenfauz says.
He leans forward, eyes burning. Cyndy takes a step back, but I am not moved.
"Those trees are worlds more dangerous than even I thought possible," he says. "The full knowledge didn't come to me until I was almost under their power - until I was almost like them. The drugs that can be made from their sap are powerful enough to destroy the entire human race!"
This is quite a statement, but maybe he's exaggerating. It would take quite a bit to wipe out the whole race, I think. Besides, what's 'humanity' ever done for me? I go into cynical mode.
"Sounds like you created a Frankenstein monster," I say, "and it came back to kick you in the butt."
"Really, Billy!" Cyndy cries. "Can't you say anything better than that?"
"Pardon me, little Miss Ladyfingers," I say. "I'm just calling things as I see them."
I jab a finger at Rackenfauz.
"This screwball wants to play God, so now I'm the next victim."
"You're such an ignorant little dirtball!" Cyndy cries.
She stomps out the door.
22: Unwired
I draw back my foot to kick over a box of gardening tools, think better of it. I start to charge outside, think better of that, too. If I confront Cyndy, she'll probably stick a knife in my ribs. She'd enjoy that. Shove in the blade and twist slowly.
"Billy," The Professor says.
I spin around. "What?"
"Let her cool down," he says. "Everybody needs to cool down."
"You're giving me advice now?" I say. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be in this mess."
"Yes, I know that, Billy. I'm sorrier than you can imagine."
The Professor closes his eyes and strokes his forehead with his finger tips.
"Please don't hate me," he says. "I already hate myself enough as it is."
"Yeah, right ... well."
My fury is draining away. I never could stay angry at somebody who wouldn't get angry back. I head for the door.
"Please stay, Billy," Rackenfauz says. "We need to talk about your future, or possible lack of one."
A cold jab of fear stops me in my tracks.
"What does that mean?" I say.
The snug little hut suddenly feels chilly and threatening, a place where vampire coffins might be stored. Rackenfauz gestures toward an upturned bushel basket. I plop down on it and light a cigarette.
"So, go ahead, Professor - shoot," I say.
I try to sound tough and casual, but it probably isn't working very well. Rackenfauz fixes me with hard, sharp eyes.
>
"Early last spring, Albert began suggesting that we get some young people to help us," he says. "Kids that nobody would miss."
"Like me, huh?" I say.
The Professor nods. "The foster care system in this state is badly underfunded - incomplete records, poor oversight. It's mostly run by the individual counties. Children can get lost in it."
"That's good to know," I interrupt sarcastically.
"Albert said that if we bought off Judge Gulp, we could get kids to come out here," the professor continues. "You must be the first one, Billy."
The coppery blood taste returns to my mouth, even though my wounded lip is no longer bleeding.
"Albert said that when the kids disappeared, we'd simply claim they had run away," Rackenfauz says. "Like an idiot, I paid no attention to him at first. Then, by degrees, Albert made it clear what he really intended."
I am scarcely breathing now.
"What did he plan to do with the kids?" I whisper.
Rackenfauz leans forward. His greenish face has the look of doom on it.
"Albert meant to bury them in the grove - same as he did to me. He said the trees would flourish best with live fertilizer."
I sit numb with horror. The cigarette burns down to my fingers, but I scarcely feel it.
"I tried to stop him, Billy, please believe that!" Tears spring into Rackenfauz's eyes. "I am not evil. I'm just a fool, or at least I used to be."
"When did Albert plan to start burying?" I croak.
The Professor wipes tears from his eyes. I feel like sobbing myself.
"About a week after the trees pollinate," Rackenfauz says. "They'll start their final growth cycle then."
"Pollinate?" I say. "Is that when the trees give off a thick stink that makes you sneeze?"
Fear twists the Professor's green face. "You mean it's happened already?"
I nod. "Three days ago."
He grips my arm hard. "Then there's only a few days at most - you've got to go, Billy!"
"W-where?"
"Get out of the state, or at least out of the county. I'd help you if I could, but you can see the shape I'm in."
His words slam into me like a giant fist. I pull up my pant leg with trembling hands.
"I-I've got this tracker thing on my ankle."
The Professor runs his fingers over the metal device; a thunderous frown creases his forehead. Then a smile spreads across his face.