Ghoul

things when cast against the backdrop of the deep blue sky overhead.

Doug wiped the sweat from his eyes. 'You know the Frogger machine down at the Laundromat?'

'Yeah.'

'I got the high score yesterday. But then Ronny Nace unplugged it and erased everything.'

'Ronny's a dick.'

'Yeah. He was pissed because I played that new Toto song on the jukebox.' They hopped off their bikes and walked them to the top of the hill. Timmy could have pedaled it, but Doug was obviously tired.

Their noses crinkled as they passed by a dead groundhog, its midsection ruptured by a car tire, its flyinfested innards exposed to the sunlight and open air. Maggots squirmed through rotten meat. Though it was a disgusting sight, neither one of them could help but study it closely.

'God,' Doug panted. 'That stinks.'

They hurried past the road kill.

'You know what's weird?' Timmy fanned the air with his hand. 'That's the only one we've seen in a week. Usually, there's two or three per daypossums, skunks, groundhogs, squirrels, cats, snakes. Now, there aren 't any at all, other than that fresh one.'

'Maybe the state is cleaning them up. Sending a road crew around or something.'

'Yeah, maybe.'

And though the boys wouldn't notice, the dead groundhog they' d just passed by would be missing the next day as well. Rotted and putrescent, it was food for something. Fodder.

'Glad my grandpa let us sneak out,' Timmy said.

'Your grandpa is so cool,' Doug said. 'I wish mine was like that.'

'Isn't he?'

Doug made a sour face. 'No. When we go to visit him, all he does is preach to us about the Bible and fart a lot. My dad used to say that' s because he was full of hot air.' Timmy laughed obligingly.

Doug talked about his father all the time, and it made Timmy sad. Doug seemed to believe that his dad was coming back for him, any day now, and that they'd go live in California together. According to Doug, his father called or wrote to him every week, told him stories about Hollywood, how he ' d gotten a job as a stunt man, the movies he'd worked on, the famous actors he'd met, the things he' d seen; but none of it was true. Last fall, Barry and Timmy had discovered that their friend was lying. His mother had let it slip when she was drunk. Taunted Doug with it. There were no letters or long distance phone calls. They hadn't heard from Doug 's father since he' d left town. Too embarrassed for their friend, Timmy and Barry never brought it up, allowing the charade to continue. No sense confronting him with the truth. If it made Doug feel better to believe that his father had found a career as a stunt man and that he would one day return, then that was good enough for them.

Timmy was about to ask Doug if he'd gotten any new letters when something in the cemetery caught his attention. Near one of the cracked, mossy crypts, two of the older tombstones had sunken into the earth. Only their lichencovered tops were sticking out. The ground around them was also depressed, as if a giant groundhog had burrowed under the grass.

Weird, he thought. Had they been like that yesterday? He didn't think so.

'I don't know,' Doug whispered. 'Sometimes I think about what it would be like if my grandpa died, and when I do, I don't feel sad.'

'What do you feel?'

He shrugged. 'Nothing. I don't feel anything. Is that weird?'

'Yeah, but that's okay, 'cause everybody knows you're weird anyway.' Scowling, Doug punched Timmy in the arm. Timmy laughed.

As the road leveled out, they hopped back onto their bikes. The Golgotha Lutheran Church sat to their left, and Barry's house was on the righta redbrick, onestory home with a white garage off to one side and a rusted swing set in the backyard, facing Timmy ' s house on the hill below. The church parking lot served as its driveway. Barry 's father, Clark Smeltzer, was the church caretaker and groundskeeper for the cemetery.

'Besides,' Timmy continued, his laughter drying up, 'at least your grandpa's not as bad as…'

He didn't finish, and instead, just nodded his head in the direction of Barry's house.

'Yeah,' Doug agreed. 'Nobody's as bad as that.' They wheeled into the parking lot and dismounted, propping their bikes against the side of the Smeltzer' s white garage. Doug still clutched the plastic tube. They approached the house, making sure to avoid the side of the garage closest to Timmy 's house, lest his father, still working in the garden, looked up over the hill and saw them. As he knocked on the door, Timmy wondered who would greet them this morningtheir friend, his mother, or the monster that lived with them. It opened, and Barry' s mother, Rhonda, smiled at them through the screen door. The boys cringed as they always did when she smiled. One of her front teeth had been missing for the past year. They heard the soft sounds of a Barbara Mandrel song coming from the radio in the kitchen.

'Hi, Mrs. Smeltzer.'

'Good morning, b'

The radio shut off.

'Who is it?' Clark Smeltzer barked from behind her. Rhonda' s smile instantly crumbled, her happiness melting as quickly as a popsicle on a summer sidewalk. Timmy noticed something odd; diamond earrings sparkled on her ears. The Smeltzers didn 't have a lot of money, and Timmy had never seen her wear something like that.

She scrambled out of the way and Barry' s father replaced her in the doorway. He glowered at them, obviously suffering from a hangover. His eyes were bloodshot, and there was something dried and crusty in his mustache and beard. He wore yellowstained boxer shorts and an olive work shirt, unbuttoned. Black lint poked out of his swollen belly button. Despite his slovenly appearance, a gold watch adorned his wrist, replacing the Timex he usually wore.

Timmy frowned, backing away a few steps. Mr. Smeltzer stank of sour sweat, booze, and despair. Timmy wondered if he was still drunk.

'What the hell do you two want? Ain't you got jobs this summer?'

Timmy shook his head, his spirits sinking. Clark Smeltzer's slurred speech answered his question.

'No, sir. We were just looking for Barry.'

'You woke me up. Didn't go to bed but an hour ago.'

'We're sorry,' Timmy apologized. 'We didn't know.'

'Banging on the door this early in the morning. The hell's wrong with you? Ain't you got nothing better to do?'

'We just wanted to show Barry something,' Doug explained, holding up the black tube. Clark Smeltzer eyed it and frowned. 'What's that? Poster?'

'A map,' Doug said. 'I made it.'

'Should be playing baseball or football, instead of drawing. That's queer shit. You a fag? Ain't no wonder your old man took off.'

There was a shocked gasp of dismay behind him. 'Clark! Don't say such things to that boy.'

'Get the fuck back in the kitchen, Rhonda, if you know what's good for you!' Timmy started to turn away. Doug looked like he was ready to cry. His bottom lip quivered, and his ears and cheeks had turned scarlet. The color made his freckles seem more numerous than ever.

'Where the fuck you going?'

'Sorry we woke you up, Mr. Smeltzer,' Timmy apologized again. 'Can you tell Barry we stopped by?'

'He ain't here. He's over in the cemetery, working. Same way you boys should. Kids today are lazy. Don't know how good you got it. Ought to get a damn job.' Timmy froze. 'If we're so lazy, how come Barry's out doing your job, while you're sleeping off last night's bottle?' The words left Timmy' s mouth before he could stop them. Clark Smeltzer stared at him in angry surprise. His eyebrows narrowed. Both Doug and Barry's mother groaned.

'You know what your problem is, Graco? You're a fucking smartass. Got a real attitude problem.'

Timmy didn't respond.

'I've got a good mind to tan your hide.'

Mr. Smeltzer shoved the screen door open and stepped out onto the porch, towering over the boys. His hand curled into a fist. Doug retreated into the yard. Timmy held his ground.