The Town (39 page)

“I know.” She squeezed his shoulder, looking at nothing, thinking to herself. “I know,” she repeated absently.

“I thought you said we had guardian angels, that they would protect us.”

She looked at him, nodded solemnly. “That true. We all have them. But they only protect from
earthly
thing, not protect from evil spirit.”

That word again:
evil
.

“Our house is haunted, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps.”

“People were murdered here before, you know. My friend Scott said that the dad murdered his whole family. Maybe it’s their ghosts that are . . .” He trailed off.
That are what?
He did not know how to complete the sentence. Everything that scared him, everything that had happened, was vague, unspecific, feelings and impressions more than concrete events.

Except for the stuff occurring around town. The murders. The deaths. The cactus baby. The animal attack on Teo’s school.

Those
things couldn’t have been caused by something in their house, could they?

“Is not ghosts from house,” Babunya said. “Not
just
ghosts,” she amended. “There are many spirits in town. We pray at church and try to get rid of them, but too many here.” Her voice lowered. “Devil send them.”

Goose bumps pimpled his skin.

Babunya stared at the wall, at nothing, and when she spoke again it sounded almost as though she was talking to herself rather than to him. “Spirits here but they are . . . uninvited.” Her voice sounded uncertain, as if that was something she did not entirely believe.

Adam felt cold.
Uninvited.
He’d heard that before, and he looked at her. He took a deep breath. “The Indians think the same thing. My friend Dan says that they call them uninvited guests. They have some Indian word for it.”

“Uninvited guests.” She repeated the words as if trying them out. “Uninvited guests.” She nodded slowly. “Dan’s people very wise.”

“Maybe we should talk to them. Maybe they know what to do.”

“We know too. Molokans know better.”

“But—”

“Evil happen here long time ago and evil attracted here now.”

“That’s what he said! He said it was the mine—”

“Is not mine.” She closed her eyes, breathed deeply. “Sometimes evil want to come back but cannot because everything protected. But sometimes it find a way. A crack to sneak through.” She was silent for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper. “This time I make that crack.”

She looked at the wall again, but Adam knew she was seeing something else. He was frightened, had no idea what she was talking about, had a million questions, but he sensed that this was a time to keep quiet, and so he said nothing. She would explain, he knew, in her own time.

She sighed. “It because of who I
forget
to invite that other . . . spirits invite themselves.”

Adam thought of Rumpelstiltskin.

“Jedushka Di Muvedushka?”

She nodded. “Jedushka Di Muvedushka. I don’t realize it until now. A month ago, I went with church to see prophet. Molokan prophet. Very wise man. Holy man. He lives in cave in desert. We ask him what’s wrong and he said town in danger. He told me it is my fault.” She pointed to her head. “Told me here, not with words. I don’t want to believe him, but I think it might be true. I think about Jedushka Di Muvedushka, but I still don’t see how it is possible. Now God let me see. We move to house where evil things happen, have no protection, no Jedushka Di Muvedushka, and that allow evil to grow, get stronger. Once stronger, it spreads. Others come.”

“Uninvited guests.”

“Yes,” she said, nodding.

The idea of a little invisible man, a supernatural being living with them in their house, had frightened him at first, and though he had not exactly believed it, he had been glad they’d forgotten to invite the creature to come with them from California. He didn’t like the thought of some . . . spirit watching them, monitoring them, keeping tabs on them in the privacy of their own house. If there was such a thing, he was glad they’d left it behind.

Now, though, he had changed his tune. The idea of an Owner of the House, an invisible being watching over them and watching out for them, no longer seemed so far-fetched. It was the same basic premise as a guardian angel. So maybe there was something to it. All legends were supposed to start with a grain of truth. And other cultures had stories of little men as well. Like the leprechauns in Ireland, the trolls and elves in other countries’ fairy tales. Perhaps there was some basis in fact to this. Perhaps there
were
little people with magical powers and different countries called them different things.

And at this point, the thought of a little guy staying awake at night while they were asleep, battling evil, unseen enemies, was a comforting one.

But had everything in town, all of the deaths and hauntings and craziness, started because his family had forgotten to invite Jedushka Di Muvedushka to come with them from California and move into their new house? Had everything begun at this home? It was hard to believe . . . but it was not impossible. Scott had told him that the entire town was haunted, and perhaps it was, but everything had apparently remained dormant until they’d arrived, a fact that quite a few people had noticed.

He didn’t want to blame Babunya, but he did. She obviously blamed herself as well, and part of him thought,
Good
.

But his parents had known about this custom as well, and
he
would have known about it had his mom and dad not tried so hard to keep them all away from Russian things, from their own culture. They were all at fault, they were all responsible, and maybe they were all being punished for it.

Maybe they deserved to die.

He had a sudden clear image of the
banya,
of bringing his family into it, like an executioner leading condemned prisoners into a gas chamber.

Was it his brain coming up with this? Or was he being influenced by something else? Was this what Babunya had been talking about?

He didn’t want to think about it. His head hurt, and he pushed the thought away, forcing himself to see it for what it was.

He looked at Babunya. “Did you tell Mom and Dad?”

“No,” she said carefully.

“Why?”

“Because your father, I think . . .” She shook her head, looking concerned, and Adam felt scared. She was talking to him seriously, he sensed, like an adult instead of like a child, and while that was frightening enough, her hesitancy and confusion invested it with a dread that went even deeper. He thought of the
banya
again, and he knew that he had to confess.

“I went back to the
banya,
” he blurted out. “I haven’t been there in a while, but I went back a whole bunch of times after you told me not to, and I even took my friends there, and they’re the same friends who were throwing rocks at cars with me.” He was on the verge of crying again, and he stopped, looked at her, tried to gather his composure. “Maybe it . . . affected me,” he said. “Us. Maybe we’re all, like, contaminated or something.”

He wished he spoke Russian or wished she spoke better English. This was something that it seemed important to communicate clearly, and he was not sure he could make his grandmother understand what he wanted her to understand.

She seemed to, though, and she nodded solemnly and touched his shoulder. “Yes,” she said. “The
banya
is bad place. But you stop going there, no?”

“A while ago. I got scared. But my friend Scott went back and tried to take pictures and the pictures had ghosts on them.”

“He stop too?”

“We all did. We all got scared.”

“Good.” She nodded. “That good. If you can stop, it is all right.”

His head was still pounding. It was as if his brain was being squeezed, as if he was connected to some remote control and someone was cranking up the pain volume every time he tried to talk.

“I saw a Russian spoon up there,” he said. “Where we were throwing rocks. On that little ledge. It was . . . spooky. And there was, like, this little . . . cave. And it reminded me of the
banya
—”

“Spooky,” Babunya repeated, still nodding, thinking.

“I want to tell Mom and Dad. I think we should tell them.”

“No.”

“Why not? Maybe they can—”

“No,” she repeated. “Wait.”

“Why? Wait for what? Things to get worse?”

“Remember what happen to other family in this house? Father kill his children . . .”

She looked at him, and he was suddenly filled with a knowledge he did not want to have. He knew what she was saying, and he could see the image in his mind, but he shook his head vehemently. “No. That couldn’t happen.”

She nodded slowly, as if agreeing with him, but he knew she didn’t agree at all, and he wondered what she was thinking, what she knew. Maybe she was like a witch, he thought. Maybe she was psychic. Maybe she could see the future.

The idea should have made him more afraid of his grandmother, but for some reason it didn’t. It made him feel safer, more secure.

Except when he thought about his father.

A look passed between them.

“Okay,” he said. “I won’t say anything.”

Babunya smiled absently, patted his head. “You good boy. That why you have happy face.”

She was obviously distracted, obviously thinking about something she did not plan to share with him, and for that he was grateful. She had shared too much already. He didn’t like this adult talk, didn’t like being trusted with knowledge he should not have to know, secrets he should not have to keep. He’d been eager to grow up, but he was eager no longer. He wanted to be able to be just a kid again, not to have to think about any problem other than his own, to let adults do all the worrying and thinking.

She stood, holding her back and letting out a small “Oy.” She looked down at him. “Stay here,” she said. “Be nice to your father, but be careful. Make sure Teo be careful too. Try to obey everything he says.”

Adam felt something close to panic. “Why? Where are you going? Aren’t you going to be here?”

“Church. I will be back soon. Before dark.”

“Babunya—” The urge to cry had returned.

“I will be back soon.” She said some sort of prayer in Russian, smiled at him, and his headache seemed to fade away.

“Be good,” she told him and kissed his forehead before she turned to leave.

 

He had been forbidden to contact Scott or Dan since the arrest, had seen them only in school, and even there paranoia had severely inhibited their conversations. It had been a tough two weeks. He could not leave the house on his own, could not go anywhere except school, could not stay after school for any reason, and he’d had a difficult time adjusting. He knew he’d been in the wrong, though, and he’d obeyed his parents’ orders, spending his time reading, watching TV, doing his homework, writing letters to Roberto, even playing games with Teo.

But this was too big, too important. He had to break the prohibition. When he knew everyone else was occupied—Sasha gone, Teo outside playing, his parents busy, Babunya back at church—he sneaked surreptitiously out to the phone in his parents’ bedroom and gave Dan a quick call.

Dan’s mother answered. “Hello?”

“May I speak to Dan?”

He was whispering, he didn’t want to get caught, and Dan’s mother was immediately suspicious. “Who is this?”

He thought quick. “Robert. From Dan’s English class. I have laryngitis and I’m calling to ask about homework.”

“Oh,” she said. “Just a minute.”

He heard her call for Dan, and a minute later his friend came on the phone. “Robert?” He sounded suspicious too. There was no Robert in their English class.

“It’s me. Adam. Is your mom still there?”

“No.”

“I’ll talk fast.”

He explained about the meeting with his grandmother, gave a quick thumbnail sketch of Jedushka Di Muvedushka, told him his grandmother and the other Molokans thought that was the source of everything that was happening around town. “Even us,” he said. “Remember that Russian spoon? That’s why we were up there—”

“That’s not why we were up there,” Dan said.

“Well, maybe not. But you know what I’m saying. And get this. She says these spirits or whatever they are are
uninvited
. That’s the word she used. ‘Uninvited.’ ”

“Na-ta-whay,”
Dan breathed.

“That’s exactly what I told her, and she went off to her church right away. I guess they’re going to try something. But I thought you should know, too.” He thought once more about how long Dan’s people had been here, how old they were. A shiver passed through him. “I thought you guys might know what to do. I thought you might have some kind of ritual or something that might work better.”

“I’ll talk to my father,” Dan said. “He’s not too thrilled with me right now, but I think he’ll listen.” There was a pause. “This is serious, isn’t it?”

“I think so. My grandma seems to think so.”

“We should’ve said something earlier. We shouldn’t have waited so long.”

Adam heard a noise in the hallway, and he quickly hung up, ducking into his parents’ bathroom and flushing the toilet, then walking out, pretending to buckle his pants. His father walked into the bedroom, and there was something weird about him, something strange.

Adam was grateful that the toilet was still running. He tried to think of some reason why he’d come in here instead of going to the other bathroom, but his father did not seem to be interested or care. He walked past Adam and lay down on the bed, closing his eyes and laying a hand over his forehead as though he had a headache.