Popcorn Thief (9 page)

“Mama, I’m fine,” Franklin assured her.

It didn’t help. Mama was worried about him, worried about
her boy.

Was that why she was here, haunting him? Because of that
worry?

Mama had always joked about seeing whatever future people
paid her to see in her cards. She’d never do it for real, or open up a shop and
put up one of those neon signs that said
Psychic—your
future read here!

But she’d had some kind of gift. Franklin was sure of it.

“Mama, did you see something? In your cards? About me and
the future?”

Mama nodded her head slowly.

A spike of excitement rushed through Franklin. Mama was
responding! Maybe she wouldn’t haunt him until he died. “Was it to do with this
creature? This spirit that’s been haunting me, that broke all those dishes?”

Again, Mama nodded.

“Do you know how to stop it?” Franklin eagerly asked.

The sorrow in the room tripled as Mama shook her head
No
.

* * *

Franklin settled himself in the living room for the day,
cranking up the old air conditioning unit sticking out of the window, blowing
it on him as the heat built up. There wasn’t much to see on TV, but Franklin
couldn’t pay that much attention to it anyway, still sleepy from the medicine
and the pain. He propped himself up with pillows on the old green couch and
flipped from one old movie to repeats of cop shows and around.

Darryl came by after dinner. He still wore the uniform of
the car repair shop he worked at, but his hands had been scrubbed clean.

“Your back ain’t too gross, is it?” Darryl asked as Franklin
sat down on the closed bathroom commode again.

“May didn’t seem bothered,” Franklin said.

Darryl snorted. “Not much bothers that girl.” He tugged the
tape off Franklin’s back, not as gentle as May had been. “Eh. I seen worse,”
was Darryl’s only comment. He didn’t move as quickly or efficiently as May, and
Franklin came to appreciate the training his other cousin had had.

“Did I tell you why I think the thing came after me?”
Franklin asked.

“Yeah, that Karl had filled it full of rock salt,” Darryl
said as he finished Franklin’s back and started working on his arms.

The swelling had gone down around the stitches since
yesterday, Franklin noticed. Maybe he was getting better.

“You said before that it was going after your lard, and that
ghosts like things that were salty,” Darryl said. “And you said that whatever
it grabbed you with, those whips, were infected.”

“According to the doctors, yeah,” Franklin said, not liking
where the conversation was going.

“So let’s poison it,” Darryl suggested. “Put up a salt lick
near Lexine’s cabin, only spike it with antibiotics.”

“Where would we get enough antibiotics to kill it?” Franklin
asked.

“Well, you’ll be seeing that nurse—”

“No,” Franklin said. “Absolutely not.”

Darryl grinned at him. “Just jossing. They make antibiotic
gels and things, right? We can just get some of those, douse the lick good.”

Franklin nodded. It might work. But he had his doubts. “Preacher
Sinclair wants to go after the thing too.”

“That’s only because Ma tore a strip off him,” Darryl said.
“He don’t believe in ghosts and spirits and things.”

Franklin held his tongue and didn’t point out that Darryl
had only recently admitted to believing in them as well. “That don’t make
sense. He’s a reverend,” Franklin protested as Darryl helped him back on with
his shirt. “Doesn’t he believe in things he can’t see? I mean, isn’t that part
of his job description?”

Darryl laughed. “You’d think. But the preacher ain’t a bad
man.”

“So should we take him with us? The next time we go out?”
Franklin asked.

“Sounds like a plan,” Darryl said with a grin. “I’ll arrange
it with the reverend. How about tomorrow night? Friday?”

“Well, I ain’t going dancing,” Franklin pointed out. “And
I’m not up for too much. But yeah, let’s go put a salt lick out by Lexine’s cabin.
Sit in your truck and see what we catch.”

* * *

Franklin wasn’t expecting any more visitors, so he’d taken
off his shirt and just let the cool breeze from the AC in the living room
window blow on his bare skin. He hadn’t turned on any lights, either, just let
the glow from the TV light the room. Mama was back in the kitchen, this time
with Gloria, who were both acting mad again. Franklin didn’t know at what.

When someone knocked loudly at the front door, Franklin
debated not getting up to see who it was. But ghosts and spirits didn’t knock.
He didn’t do more than kind of drape his shirt over his chest, though.

The red and blue lights flashing in his driveway made
Franklin’s gut drop through to the bottoms of his bare feet.

“There’s been another attack,” the sheriff said abruptly,
without even saying hello.

“Who?” Franklin asked, slipping one of his sleeves on.

“Darryl.”

* * *

The creature had found Darryl and attacked him while he was
driving his truck up the highway. Fortunately, Darryl had steered onto the
shoulder before he slammed into anyone, then had gotten himself out of the truck
cabin before the thing could do too much damage.

Franklin didn’t know why the creature didn’t just follow
him—seemed his cousin was just lucky that way.

Darryl was still all torn to hell. The creature had wrapped
its thorn whips around his forearms and sliced them up, where they’d been
clutching the steering wheel.

Sheriff Thompson brought Franklin to the hospital. Darryl
was still in admitting—they weren’t going to have to do much but give him
some stitches. Since they’d recognized the wounds from when Franklin came in,
they’d set Darryl up on antibiotics right away. He sat on what looked like a
dentist’s chair, with a doctor in a white coat sitting beside him.

“Don’t know what you boys been hunting,” the doctor said as
he stitched away at Darryl’s arm. “But it sure got some claws.”

Neither Franklin, Darryl, nor the sheriff said anything.

“Why didn’t it come after you after you’d thrown yourself
from the truck?” Franklin asked when the doctor had gone.

“’Cause I’d grabbed my shotgun and winged it,” Daryl said
with a grin. “But that rock salt didn’t really stop it.”

Franklin nodded, glad that the thing hadn’t come after him again
in retaliation. Hopefully it hadn’t gone after anyone else, either.

“I don’t like it,” the sheriff said sourly. “I still don’t
know what it was that attacked either of you, or Lexine, or Earl Jackson.”

Franklin didn’t point out that he’d already told the sheriff
what it was. It was just that the sheriff didn’t want to believe it.

“Still,” the sheriff said. “I hate to admit it. But. Something’s
out there. And it’s my duty to stop it. Before it kills someone else.”

“We’re gonna try to trap it, and poison it,” Darryl said
eagerly. “Get a salt lick, lace it with antibiotic cream.”

The sheriff listened, rubbing his forefinger and thumb over
his long mustache and around his mouth, nodding his head.

“Do you think that’ll work?” the sheriff asked Franklin.

“Beats me, sir,” Franklin said. “I’m just about run out of
ideas how to kill it.” If Mama, who could maybe see the future and was already
a ghost, didn’t know how, he wasn’t sure he could figure it out.

“Let me know how your experiment goes,” Sheriff Thompson
finally said. “But you get out of there if that thing turns on you. I do
not
want to bring your mother any more
bad news. You hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” Franklin said.

Darryl just grinned. “It ain’t gonna get us. It ain’t got
either of us yet.”

“‘Yet’ is kind of the operative word there, don’t you
think?” the sheriff asked as he walked off.

Darryl dropped his smile after the sheriff had gone. “That
creature’s real dangerous,” he told Franklin seriously. “And now, not only has
it come after you, it’s come after me. We’re gonna get it. We’re gonna send it
back to Hell where it belongs.”

Franklin just hoped they didn’t end up dying in the process.

FRANKLIN SPENT MOST OF FRIDAY
RELAXING AGAIN. May wouldn’t be by until later that night to change the
dressing on his back. He took off the bandages on his arms himself, and then
wrapped them back up with a much lighter gauze. He could start leaving the
bandages off at night, letting ’em air, starting Saturday. Then he returned to
his pile of pillows on the couch and his TV, flipping through the channels
during the commercials.

When his phone rang about 4 PM, he expected it to be Darryl
with more of his plans.

It was Ray Sorrel, instead. “So how’d you like some
visitors?” Ray asked.

“Are you sure?” Franklin said in return. He knew they’d been
camping out for some time now, under the tree men, so Adrianna would be safe.

“It’s Adrianna, actually, who’s insisting. She thinks that
since the creature’s already attacked you, it won’t go back there. That you
drove it off, like she did.”

“It wasn’t really me who drove it off. I just—got
away. Plus, it’s attacked my cousin Darryl, in his truck.”

“Is he all right?”

“Shook up. Gouged. But yeah, he’s fine.”

“We’re coming anyway,” Ray said firmly. “Can’t live our
lives afraid of shadows, or always outdoors. Besides,” Ray paused, then lowered
his voice. “Adrianna says she wants to try picking up power lines in other
places now. She swears it’ll protect you. If she can do it at all.”

“Come on by, then,” Franklin told him. After he hung up, he made
more tea and set up for a picnic outside, in the back.

Ray and Adrianna knocked on the door soon after that.

“It’s so good to see you,” Adrianna said, taking Franklin’s
hand at the door, but not coming inside. She wore one of her usual flowy dresses,
in yellows and oranges that made her skin seem more pale and her features more
fragile, like she was turning into a porcelain doll.

“Glad you’re on your feet,” Ray said.

“I planned on having tea out back,” Franklin told them. He
didn’t want Adrianna to refuse to come inside—Mama might get angry at
that.

“Anything I can help with?” Ray asked, edging across the
threshold.

“Sure. Let me show Miss Adrianna the table first,” Franklin
said.

They walked around the edge of the house, to the white
tables and chairs in the back, looking out toward his rows of corn. The
Kentucky bluegrass Franklin had growing out there was lush and green. Franklin
was gonna have to cut it again, soon. It felt peaceful out there, even in the
heat of the day, with the loud crickets and cicadas.

 
“I’ll be right
back,” Franklin assured her.

“Take your time, dear,” Adrianna said. She didn’t sit, but
stayed standing, staring out at the fields.

Franklin didn’t trust whatever she’d get up to, so he
hurried into the house.

“How’s she doing?” Franklin asked Ray as he put the pitcher
of iced tea and three glasses on a tray that already held the last of the
cookies that May had brought over from the funeral.

“She’s getting stranger,” Ray admitted. “I’m afraid I’m
losing her. She barely talks with me anymore.”

“I’m sorry, Ray,” Franklin said. He wasn’t sure what advice
to offer the older man, if there was anything he could say that would help.
“Just keep letting her know she’s your lady,” he finally came up with. “She’ll
come back.”

Ray gave a bitter laugh. “That’s what the songs say, don’t
they? But I don’t know if that’ll be true for us.”

“It’s only been a couple of days,” Franklin pointed out.

“No, this has been coming for a while. Like the thing with
the koi pond,” Ray said. “That wasn’t the start of it.” He sighed. “We should
get out there.”

Franklin let Ray carry the tray, both to give him something
to do, as well as to not put any strain on his arms or back. Adrianna was
sitting by now. She scolded them, saying, “I didn’t know what you two had
gotten into, making me wait so long.”

“I’m sorry, dear,” Ray said, leaning over and kissing her
forehead.

They stayed like that for a second, Adrianna leaning into
Ray, something deep and precious passing between them.

Maybe Ray had been wrong about Adrianna pulling away.

After Franklin served the tea, Adrianna asked, “Could you
tell me what happened the night you were attacked, dear?”

Franklin started off with explaining about Sweet Bess, going
in through the root cellar, how the thing had tore up his kitchen, and how Mama
had stepped in so he could get away.

“It’s those things we love, or who love us, that are the
most effective against this creature, aren’t they?” Adrianna mused.

“Huh. That’s what Billy said,” Franklin replied. “He said it
was pure evil, and the only way to fight it was with love.”

“He may have been onto something,” Ray said.

“What, we’re supposed to hug it to death?” Franklin asked,
repeating Darryl’s question.

“No, dear,” Adrianna said. “Turn the other cheek is often
wrongly used. You have to
fight
it
using love, with the things you love.”

“What do you mean?” Franklin asked. He’d never thought about
fighting using love before.

“Now, I know Ray has been questioning whether I still love
him or not,” Adrianna said slyly.

“Dear—” Ray started.

“Let me finish. I do love you, Ray. But I can’t use you to
fight. I have to use the other things I love, if I want to protect you,”
Adrianna said clearly, though her eyes were starting to haze over.

“You don’t have to fight anything,” Franklin said as Adrianna
turned her gaze from them and out over the fields.

“But I must,” Adrianna said in a voice that was no longer
her own: It had grown dark and husky, like a clouded night.

Franklin shivered. The grace that had taken over Darryl
hadn’t been frightening: It had been more like he’d finally stepped into his real
skin.

With Adrianna, it was like something else had stepped inside
her.

Adrianna rose sluggishly and walked—like she was
sleepwalking—to the edge of the corn rows, where she raised her hands
with her fingers spread wide, then lowered them toward the ground.

Even in the afternoon light, Franklin saw the trails
starting, glowing white, flowing from her fingers and spreading out across the
land, like painted white stripes.

“What’s she doing, Ray?” Franklin asked, alarmed. He went to
stand behind Adrianna. All the hair along the back of his neck stood up and
chills ran down his spine, like a platoon of ghosts stood breathing over his
shoulder.

“I don’t know,” Ray said, standing behind him. “What’cha
doing, honey?”

Adrianna didn’t bother to reply. Slowly, she turned her
hands and curled her fingers around, grasping the lines like they were thick
cables. The muscles in her bare arms strained as she raised her hands up. She
flicked her wrists once, sending the lines cascading down, like reins on a set
of horses.

A sizzling noise filled the air, like a bad electronic
transformer, the pitch winding up until the sound hurt Franklin’s ears. What
the hell was she doing? What kind of power had she raised?

Adrianna flicked her wrists again. The power surged along
the lines, bouncing from the end, up to Adrianna, and back again. She shivered
and sweat broke out along her forehead.

Was she strong enough to maintain these lines? Or was she
gonna collapse any moment now?

Suddenly, the creature appeared. It stayed in the distance,
at the edge of Franklin’s property. Fear held Franklin to the spot. What the
hell was he going to do if it attacked again? How could he protect not just
himself, but Adrianna?

Adrianna whipped one of the power lines in her left hand
toward the thing, flailing it open, as if striking it with a barbed whip.

How could she do that? Franklin hadn’t thought that someone
as soft and flaky as Adrianna would even have it in her to fight.

Fury poured from the creature.
How dare its prey attack?
It whirled faster, then hopped up, on top
of the line of power emanating from Adrianna.

Adrianna flicked her wrists again, trying to toss the
creature off, but it held on tenaciously.

Then it started riding the line back.

It was coming to attack.

Adrianna pulled with her right hand, trying to bring those
lines up high enough to reach the creature. But she couldn’t pull hard enough,
or move fast enough.

The thing’s long whips were at the ready, the stingers
stretched out, eager to hurt and maim.

“Let go!” Franklin cried. “Let it fall!” That was the only
way he could get both of them out of there.

With a hoarse shout, Adrianna raised her power lines one
last time, up above her head, then brought them down, past her knees.

It wasn’t enough to knock the creature loose.

Adrianna flung her hands wide open, dropping the lines. She
staggered back, and only Ray catching her prevented her from falling.

The creature stayed balanced for a moment, then it fell to
the ground as the lines fell back.

Then the line it was on turned black, and the spirit raced
away from them, following the black line, slurping up all the power that had
been raised.

Shit
. Was that
thing getting stronger now? It looked bigger. But at least it was heading away
from them.

Franklin turned back toward Adrianna. She rested against
Ray, his hands under her elbows, helping her stand. Her eyes were clear again,
but half-mast, and her pale face now looked sickly.

Franklin looked back out, over his field. The creature was
at least twice the size it had been, before it disappeared off the edge of the
property.

What had they done?

* * *

Franklin stood by, helpless, as Ray bundled Adrianna back
into their car. He wanted to help, but just the appearance of the creature had
set all his wounds throbbing: He couldn’t risk trying to help pick Adrianna up,
then dropping her or pulling out his stitches or something.

“I’m sorry, Franklin,” Ray said, coming over to stand next
to him in the driveway of the house. “Feeding that thing, making it stronger,
was the farthest thing from what Adrianna wanted to do.”

“I know,” Franklin said. But that’s just what they’d done. They’d
made it stronger, more deadly. Who would it attack next? Who would it kill?

 
“I wanted to let
you know something else,” Ray said. “I’d meant to tell you earlier, but…Anyway.
Earl? Hadn’t just gone to Lexine’s place. He’d also been looking at the deed to
Karl Metzger’s farm.”

“Was he looking to buy it?” Franklin asked, puzzled. Karl’s
place was far too close to town for a resort. Maybe Earl had just wanted to
talk to Karl about his crops, since they were the best in the county.

“I’ve asked his office, but no one knows for certain,” Ray
said.

“Thanks,” Franklin said. He was gonna have to pay Karl
another visit, and he wasn’t looking forward to that.

A short while after Franklin finished dinner, May came
knocking on the door, with Darryl on her heels. “No, he’s not going out with
you, not anywhere,” she argued as they walked in.

“But I think we can damage this thing, maybe kill it,”
Darryl said.

“Y’all are more likely to get yourselves killed,” May said.
She took one look at Franklin. “Get over here, into the light,” she ordered.

Sheepishly, Franklin moved into the light in the kitchen.

“What the hell did you do to yourself?” May asked. “You
forget your antibiotics?”

Franklin shook his head, then explained how Adrianna had
been trying to help, but had ended up feeding the creature instead.

“So it’s stronger, now, than it was?” May asked. “And you
two fools think you’re gonna stop it with a little salt lick?”

A knock came at the door.

“Lord help me. Three fools?” May asked when she saw Preacher
Sinclair standing on the porch.

“I beg your pardon?” the preacher asked, his tone chilly.

“Never mind,” May said. “I need to change this one’s
bandages, and then y’all can go barreling into Hell as far as I’m concerned.
Come on.” She stalked out of the room.

“There’s some tea, reverend,” Franklin said. “I’ll be right
back.” He squeezed past May in the tiny bathroom, sitting down on the closed
commode.

May closed the door. “What the hell do you think you’re
doing, getting the preacher involved?” she whispered urgently.

“The thing’s evil,” Franklin whispered back. “Like a demon.
Maybe the preacher can help.”

“You think prayers are gonna stop what did this to you?” May
asked, raising up Franklin’s arm, showing him the puffed-up stitches.

“The power lines that Adrianna raised could have been from God,”
Franklin said stubbornly. “They sure as hell weren’t human.”

May shook her head and angrily yanked the tape off
Franklin’s back.

“Ow!” he complained.

“You’re gonna hurt so much worse before the night’s out,”
May warned darkly. “Take my word.”

She wouldn’t say anything else as she quickly bandaged him
back up, admonishing him not to forget his pills before she marched right back
out the front door.

“I take it she doesn’t approve of this venture,” Preacher
Sinclair said.

“No sir, she don’t,” Darryl replied.

“I’ll talk with her Sunday,” the preacher said. He paused,
took a deep breath, clasped his hands in front of him, and started in. “I
prayed long and hard before coming to this decision. It was as though God was
showing me a clear path, a new direction,” the preacher said, gaining steam.
“Lord, I asked him, where should I go? Has the devil taken form here, on earth?
And the Lord said, Son—’cause he always calls me son—Son, you
should go. You should believe. You need to truly know evil before you can do
good.” The preacher put one hand up in the air and the other over his heart. “I
swear the Word had never been so clear.”