Mystery Walk

Billy looked back and caught the reflection of light off Melissa Pettus's hair; Hank Orr had his arm around her waist, and was pulling her toward the dance floor.

'Come on, pick out your shoes and get out of here!'

Billy stopped, resisting the man's tugging. He had seen—or thought he'd seen— something that had driven a freezing nail of dread into his stomach. He blinked, wishing he wouldn't see it, but yet, there it was, right there, right there. . . .

A shimmering black haze hung around Hank Orr and Melissa Pettus. It undulated, throwing off ugly pinpoints of purplish light. He heard himself moan, and Kitchens stopped speaking to stare at him. Billy had seen the black aura glittering around another couple who were walking on the edge of the dance floor; he saw it again, from the corner of his eye: it was enveloping a senior girl named Sandra Falkner, who was doing the Jerk with her boyfriend. Panic roiled in Billy's stomach; he wildly looked around, sure of impending disaster. The black aura glittered around a biology teacher named Mrs. Carson. A very weak aura, more purple than black, undulated around a senior football player named Ous Tompkins. He saw it yet again, clinging to a fat boy who was sitting up in the bleachers eating a corndog.

'Oh God,' Billy breathed. 'No . . . no . . .'

'Come on,' Kitchens said, more uncertainly. He let go of the boy and stepped back, because the boy suddenly looked as if he might throw up. 'Find your shoes and get out.'

'They're going to die,' Billy whispered hoarsely. 'I can see . . . Death in this place. . .'

'Are you drunk, mister? What's wrong with you?'

'Can't you see it?' Billy took a faltering few steps toward the crowd. 'Can't anybody else see it?'

'Shoes or not, you're getting your ass out of here!' Kitchens grasped his arm to shove him toward the door, but the boy broke free with an amazing strength and then he ran toward the dance floor, sliding in his socks. He pushed through the throng hanging around the floor, almost slipping on a spilled Coke, then he was through them and reaching for Melissa Pettus, reaching through the black haze to touch and warn her that Death was very hear. She jerked away from him and screamed. Hank Orr stepped in his way, purplish black tendrils glittering around his body, and brought his fist up in a quick arc that snapped Billy's head back. Billy staggered and fell, hearing the shout 'FIGHT! FIGHT!' ringing in his ears. A forest of legs crowded around, but Purple Tree kept on playing 'Rolling on the River.'

'Get up!' Hank Orr said, standing over him. 'Come on, you . . . freak! I'll stomp your ass!'

'Wait . . . wait,' Billy said. His head was filled with stars, exploding novas and planets. 'The black aura ... I see it . . . you've got to get—'

'FIGHT! FIGHT!' someone yelled gleefully. The Purple Tree stopped in midchord. Shouts and laughter echoed through the gym.

'You're going to die!' Billy wailed, and the blood drained out of Orr's face. He raised his fists as if to protect himself, but he didn't dare touch Billy Creekmore again. 'You . . . and Melissa . . . and Sandra Falkner . . . and ...' There was a sudden stunned silence except for kids whooping and laughing on the other side of the gym. Billy started to rise to his feet, his lower lip swelling like a balloon, but then the crowd parted and the boys' adviser, Mr Marbury, came through like a steam engine, smoke swirling from the bowl of the pipe clenched between his teeth.

Close in his wake was Mr Kitchens. Marbury hauled Billy up with a hand clamped at the back of his neck, and bellowed 'OUT!' He shoved Billy so fast the boy was sliding across the floor, through the throng, and past the scattered shoes toward the door.

'He's drunk as a skunk!' Kitchens was saying. 'Picking fights all over the place!'

'I know this boy. He's a troublemaker. Drinkin', huh? Where'd you get the booze?'

Billy tried his best to shake free, but then he was propelled through the door and Marbury spun him around. 'I asked you a question, Creekmore!'

'No! I'm not . . . drunk. . . .'He could hardly talk because his lip was swelling so fast. Bells still pealed in his head. 'Not drunk! Something's gonna happen! I saw it . . . saw the black aura! ...'

'Saw what? I've had a gutful of you, boy! You smell like you've been swimmin' in booze! I ought to suspend you on the spot!'

'No . . . please . . . listen to me! I don't know what's going to happen, but . . .'

'I do!' Marbury said. 'You're gonna stay out of that gym! And come Monday mornin' I'm gonna have a long talk with your parents! Go on, now! If you want to drink and fight, it'll be somewhere else!' He shoved Billy backward. Faces peered out, watching and smirking; one of them belonged to Ralph Leighton. Marbury turned and stalked to the door, then faced Billy again. 'I said get out of here!'

'How about my shoes?'

'We'll mail 'em to you!' Marbury said, and then he vanished within the gym.

Billy looked at Mr Kitchens, who stood a few feet away from him and who now began edging toward the door. 'They're going to die,' he told the man. 'I tried to warn them. They won't listen.'

'You come back in the gym again, mister, and I might help the boys clean your clock.' Kitchens glared at him for a few seconds, then went into the gym.

Billy stood in the darkness, weaving on his feet. He shouted, 'THEY'RE GOING TO DIE!' and in another few seconds someone closed the gym door. He staggered to it and hammered on the metal; he could feel the bass- drum vibrations of Purple Tree knocking back, and he knew everybody was dancing and having a good time again. I can't stop it, he told himself; whatever it is, I can't stop it! But I have to keep trying! If he couldn't get back inside, he'd stop them when they came out; he walked away from the gym on weak, rubbery legs and sat down on a curb facing the parking lot. He could see the vague shapes of people huddled in their cars, and moonlight glanced off an upturned bottle in the backseat of a spiffy red Chevy. He wanted to sob and scream, but he gritted his teeth together and held everything inside.

Within fifteen minutes he heard shouting and laughter from the football field, and he stood up to see what was happening. Kids were leaving the gym to congregate around the mound of timber; a couple of the chaperones were dousing the wood with gasoline, and the bonfire was about to be lighted. People chased each other around the field like wild stallions, and some of the girls started doing impromptu Bulldogs cheers. Billy stood at the fence, his hands gripped into the metal mesh. A lighter sparked, and the flame touched the gasoline-soaked wood at several places around the base; the wood, most of it rough kindling, caught quickly. Fire gnawed toward the top of the pile. More students were coming out to ring the bonfire as the flames grew brighter; the heap was about twelve or thirteen feet tall, Billy saw, and some practical joker had set a chair on top of it. Sparks danced into the sky. As Billy watched, some of the kids linked hands and started to sing Fayette County High's alma mater:

Nestled in the quiet valley

Home we love and always will;

Stands our revered alma mater

Below the woodland and the hills . . .

The bonfire was growing into a huge finger of flame. Billy leaned against the fence, rubbing his swollen lip. In the quick orange spray of sparks from a wet piece of wood Billy saw Melissa Pettus and Hank Orr, holding hands and standing near the bonfire's base. The aura around them had turned blacker still, and seemed to be spreading out its dark, twisting tentacles. He saw Sandra Falkner's face, brushed with orange light, as she stood looking up toward the bonfire's crest. She was almost cocooned in the black aura. Gus Tompkins was standing to her left, and back about ten feet.

Billy's fingers clenched the fence as the cold realization struck him: they were all out here now, all the kids who were enveloped by the ugly aura, and most of them were standing closest to the fire. The blackness seemed to be reaching toward itself, connecting, drawing all the victims together.

A red glow pulsated at the bonfire's center. The chair collapsed, to a scattering of applause and whoops.

. . . We give thanks for all God's blessings.

Underneath his crowning sky;

Home of learning and of friendship,

Our alma mater, Fayette County . . .

'GET AWAY FROM THE FIRE!' Billy screamed.