Fear the Barfitron (5 page)

They swayed in their chairs and gurgled and moaned as I approached. Something smelled terrible—like rotten meat. Worse than the food. I looked around to see where it was coming from. When I brought my head back up, I noticed that one of them was eyeing me. Before I could react, it was too late. He swiped at the tray as I brought it down, hungry and clearly ready to eat. The other two came alive—a bit—once they saw their brunch-mate grab for the gray whatever-it-was. I laid the bowls on the table and got out of there quick. One of the Nurses that had been walking around the great room approached them as I left and yelled, “FORKS, PLEASE!” but I could hear from the squishy slurping sounds and grunts of pleasure that they were probably eating with their hands, as fast as they could. I wasn’t going to turn around and look.

This was not what I signed up for—Gordon was right. I was serving food to cranky, smelly old mean
people. Where were the sweet nanas or funny grandpas?
Is this what I am going to have to deal with on a daily basis?
I thought. These folks were really monstrous—and the staff was, too!

I walked back into the kitchen and was immediately handed the tray of soupy raw steak by the chef.

“TABLE TEN!” he yelled, as he pushed me back out into the dining room.

I headed over to table ten. Two of the hairiest old men I had ever seen in my life were sitting at the table. I laid the steak soup down on the table and turned to leave. Before I could go, one of the hairy old men looked up at me.

His eyes looked so familiar…but why?

I watched as both of the old men eyed the meat slop hungrily and dug in for their first slobbery bite. It was actually quite disgusting to watch, but I couldn’t stop.

It was only when Shane texted me that I finally tore my eyes away from the feeding frenzy.

Hwst goin’?
texted Shane.

I’m already done for today
, I texted back.

I took off my uniform and slipped out of the front door. The tall grass was motionless. I moved past it quickly and then headed down the hill. The ravens watched me as I went.

I was so happy to get out of there, I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to come back.

At lunch on Monday, Ben, Gordon, and Shane wanted to know how my time at Raven Hill went. I told them everything as we ate Salisbury Snake.

I broke it down like this: It was insane and smelly, the residents were angry old farts, and I thought the house was haunted, but on the walk home I somehow convinced myself to keep going there.

I still just really, really wanted that telescope, and if I could survive one day there, I’d be able to again and again and again. Not to mention, I felt kind of bad for the old folks, as weird as they were.

“Hey,” Ben said, “Karen said she can get us all free passes to the park this weekend. It’s the last weekend!”

The park is what we called Jackson Amusement Park, a run-down collection of rides and games on the
south side of town. The best thing about it, other than the awesome food, was the Gravitron, the most barf-inducing ride in the universe. Ben’s older sister, Karen, had worked there the past few summers. She could sometimes be a pain, but she always got us free passes—so I guess she was all right, as older sisters go.

“Awesome!” yelled Gordon.

“Totally!” added Shane.

All the guys high-fived one another. All of them but me.

Shane looked at me and shook his head. “Really?” he asked.

“I have to volunteer,” I said. “If I miss one shift, I might not win the money.”

“It’s your loss,” Ben added. “I went to the park like ten times over the summer.”

“And was there any ride that you didn’t barf on?” I asked, hoping to change the subject from me bailing on my friends.

“Well…” Ben thought for a moment.

“I bet you even hurled on the Ferris wheel,” I said.

“Yes,” Ben answered. “I was way at the top, too. It was not a pretty sight.”

“Even on the bumper cars?” I asked.

“Um…yup! Definitely on the bumper cars. I spewed right as I bumped into a little girl, and it splashed right into her car.”

“Oh, that’s rough!” I said.

“Well, you’re the one who brought it up,” Ben said.

“Actually, you’re the one who brought it up,” I said with a wink. “On every ride at the park.”

“Ha-ha-ha,” Ben fake-laughed.

Shane looked over at me. “C’mon,” he said. “Do you really want to miss seeing this kid blowing chunks all day?”

“I really have to make up the hours,” I said, “especially after skipping out early last time.”

“Were you even there for an hour?” Gordon asked. “They’ll probably laugh at you when you take your time sheet to the Rotary to get certified!”

“What?” I asked

“You have to go to the Rotary every Monday at four with your time sheet—or those hours don’t count,” Gordon answered.

“Aw, man!” I said. “You’ve got to be kidding! I left my time sheet at Raven Hill. The Director doesn’t want me there until six, but I’ll have to go early to get my time sheet, then run to the Rotary, then go back home to grab some food, and
then
get back to Raven Hill. UGH!”

“Whoa, dude,” said Shane. “Don’t sweat it! You’ve only put, like an hour in anyway.”

“Yeah,” said Ben. “You’ve got three hundred hours to go, knowing you!”

“That hour could be the hour that makes the
difference at the end of the fall!” I said, almost screaming. “I need every hour I can get!”

So, at the end of the day, at the exact moment that the final bell rang, I bolted up the main road from school and took a left up to Raven Hill. I bounded up the old creaky stairs, which shook from my pounding feet, and knocked on the door as hard as I could.

Nobody answered.

I knocked again, even harder this time. My knuckles hurt.

I looked at my digital watch. Thirty seconds went by.

Sixty seconds.

Two minutes.

Where were the Nurses? Where was anybody?

I leaped down the stairs and started to explore around the side of the building, hoping to find a window that I could peek into and get someone’s attention.

There wasn’t much of a path to follow—everything was overgrown around the old house. I slowly made my way through the waist-high grass, avoiding thorny weeds and bushes. It was dark on the side of the building, but there was one spot in particular that was brighter—a window that was hidden behind a bush. And it sounded like something was going on in the room behind it. There was a buzz of conversation and grunting. I could hear chairs squeaking on the hardwood floor.

The closer I got, the louder the commotion got. I could see through the window, but just barely—the glass was dirty. The one thing I could tell was that almost everyone from the retirement home was in there. The Director and a few Nurses were up front, at some sort of table. They were facing the old folks, who were all sitting down, looking forward. It looked like some sort of meeting.

As I reached up to knock on the window, a dark shadow suddenly rose up and engulfed the whole side of the house. The sound of something massive swooping down toward me filled the air. In a flash, I dropped into the weeds, terrified. Something was after me.

I made my way under the bush, the wall of the Raven Hill Retirement Home behind me, with brush, scrub, and grass in front of me. Whatever it was out there was after me, no doubt about it. I could hear what sounded like claws dragging across the branches of the bush above my head. I suddenly remembered the large bugs in the grass the last time I was here, and I wondered if there was another lurking nearby. Then, as quickly as my attacker had appeared, everything went silent. I peeked my head out to see if it had gone.

Across the yard, I saw a giant black raven flapping away.

Of course, the ravens,
I thought.
But why would they be after me?

I crawled out from behind the bush and stood up.
In the distance, the raven circled around and headed straight back toward me. Then a second one joined in.

“CAW! CAW!” they screeched as they headed toward me.

I stepped back against the wall of the house and waved my hands in the air. “Stop it! Shoo!” I yelled out. “Don’t you remember me?”

The lead raven looked me in the eye. We held each other’s glare for a moment, and then it turned away. His friend followed his lead.

Between the bugs and the ravens, I really needed to get out of this yard.

I turned back to the house and peered through the window. There was still a crowd. In front of them all, the Director held his hands high, trying to calm the old people, who were starting to froth at the mouth and shake. The two hairy old men actually seemed to be howling.

“People, people, PLEASE!” said the Director. “There’s nothing to be afraid of—everything is under control. And I’ll tell you WHY if you’d just do me the favor of SILENCING yourselves.”

The crowd calmed down. It again became hard to hear, as the Director was now speaking very quietly. I decided that I could wait one more minute to make myself known. This could get good.

“The lebensplasm of our new volunteer is especially
strong. It will go a long way in keeping us powered up.”

A rumble of satisfaction rippled through the crowd. Through a smudge-free section of the window, I could see the old man with the sharp teeth lick his lips, as he had when he first saw me. A shiver ran down my spine.

My lebensplasm is going to keep them powered up?!
I thought, panicked.
What does that mean? What in the world is lebensplasm?
Suddenly I could not care less about my time sheet.

I was looking at the Director through a particularly dirty piece of window. But through the window, I could see him hold up an old glass jar that was filled with some sort of gooey liquid.

He took a butter knife and dipped it into the jar. He pulled out the knife and spread the goo on a piece of bread.

Several old folks grunted with satisfaction. A few even leaned forward. An old woman in the front row appeared to drool a bit as she leaned in to get a closer look.

The director held the gooey bread up to his lips. All the old folks fell silent. The director took a bite. All of the old folks began to cheer, hoot, and holler. The hairy old men began howling again.

A sudden realization hit me. The goo in the jar was MY LEBENSPLASM!!! How did they get it? I didn’t feel any different. That didn’t matter though—the creepy
old people were going to eat it to keep strong—but there were so many of them, and they all looked so HUNGRY.

What’s going to happen when they drain me of my lebensplasm?! Will I die? Will they eat ME?

I didn’t realize I was pulling the branch of the bush toward the window as I leaned in. I noticed one of the old folks eyeing the window, trying to figure out why a shaky branch was getting closer and closer to the window. Soon other heads turned.

The Director noticed, and turned toward the window. I could see a strange look on his face as he chewed, even through the dirty window. But I knew he couldn’t see me. He turned back to the old folks.

I had to get out of there—FAST. If the old folks knew that I knew they were stealing my lebensplasm, I’d be done for. I slowly recoiled, returning the branch to its original location, making sure that it didn’t snap back hard. I worked my way toward the front of the retirement home, hoping that the ravens didn’t start cawing again. Once I knew nobody would be able to see me through that window, I ran as fast as I could down the road to the main street.

As I ran, I could feel my heart pounding in the veins of my neck. My volunteer time sheet—the thing that drew me to the retirement home early—was the furthest thing from my mind.

I shuddered to think of what would happen if they
used up my lebensplasm. I was pretty sure that I would die. The director had said it would go “a long way in keeping us powered up.” Were they staying alive because of me? Was my lebensplasm some sort of Fountain of Youth for old people? Why was the Director eating it? He looked pretty young! How the heck did they get it out of me, anyway? I had only been there for an hour or two!