Maria nodded. It was true. In the last three years, the mall’s business had been slowly deflating, like the tires of a bike left in the shed for a few years.
“We go up to Summit. That place is awesome. You know they have a Cinnabon?”
“Carbs, Gus,” Maria said. “Carbs.”
“Good point,” he said. “Better do an extra set. I’ll get fat just thinking about that gooey deliciousness.” Then he winked and picked up the dumbbells again, grunting while he curled.
“Aerobic room open?” Maria asked as she walked away.
Gus chortled. “Almost always. Aerobic exercise and us meatheads go together like ham and peanut butter. You need to blow off some steam?”
“Yep.”
“Have at it, killer. But if you bust another punching bag, you’re paying for it.”
Maria said, “Sure thing, Gus.”
She left him and walked into the heavy, odorous cloud of sweat and vitamin supplements. She head-nodded to a few of the regulars, caught eyes with a few of the casuals (people whose workout regimen consisted of showing up at the gym maybe three or four times a month), and set her sights on the aerobic rooms. They were secluded, featured hardwood floors, and one wall was made entirely out of reflective glass so you could see how lame you looked doing crunches or jumping rope instead of hitting the iron.
Maria didn’t mind.
She liked the punching bags and stands in the room. She liked blaring the radio and going to town. Her locker inside the room was marked ‘APPLE,’ and it contained a pair of boxing gloves that smelled like sweat and blood from her knuckles.
Anything to take her mind off of what happened at the mall. Stupid Ted. She was honestly glad she didn’t work there anymore. Ripping off old ladies and serving old popcorn wasn’t what Maria thought would be her ticket into heaven.
Heaven. Death.
She’d always pictured herself dying of old age while she slept in a big, comfortable bed, maybe with a husband and her children and grandchildren at her side; everyone’s picture-perfect idea of passing on to the next plane of existence.
Except it didn’t look like that would be the case for Maria. Getting mauled by a giant spider was more up her alley. She, like most sane people, hated spiders with a passion.
Her gloves were on now. They felt right against her fist. She tightened the left one with her teeth, tasting the sour material of the string. The stereo blasted Metallica’s “Enter Sandman,” and blasted it loud.
She took her swings. Left. Right. Left. Right. Right. Right. Kick. The terribleness of the day, the realization that a giant spider-man was hunting her started to melt away.
She tore the bag up. Sweat poured off her body. Her head felt clear, and she saw everything in vivid color.
Oh, no—
The anger was coming back. A natural reaction; you can’t box with a smile on your face.
Her skin glowed blue. She heard a chorus of strange music coming from all around her.
“Control it, Maria,” she said. “Control it, or you’re going to let everyone in this place know you’re not normal.”
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
“Hello,” a strange voice said.
Maria jumped and swung out with her right fist. The air whistled.
“Can’t really hit a poltergeist,” the voice said.
“Oh,” Maria said, getting control of herself. God, if anyone looked into the aerobic room, they would’ve seen Maria miss the bag by a solid three feet. Talk about crazy.
Moving closer and closer to Gramps’s level of kookiness each day, she thought.
The dead boy, Duke, stood in front of the boxing bag. Maria walked over to the stereo and turned the music down, then turned to Duke and said, “Well, you’re here again, so I guess you aren’t here with good news.”
Duke frowned slightly. The blood on his face, which dribbled perpetually from the corners of his mouth, was still there. He looked as dead as he had the previous night.
“Do you have the music box?”
Maria nodded. She went over to her gym bag and pulled the box out.
Duke began to smile.
“You okay? I’ve never seen you smile before,” Maria said.
Duke’s arm reached out like he was going to brush the intricate carvings on the wood. As he did, his hand passed through it instead, and his smile disappeared.
“Ah, so many grand memories of that box,” he said.
Maria felt a sudden sadness overtake her; one that could only be fixed by beating the crap out of the boxing bags.
“Do you want me to play the music?”
Duke smiled again. He looked longingly at the box, and words played on his lips. Maria thought he meant to say ‘Yes,’ but he shook his head.
“No, we have business to attend to.” The ghostly figure stood straight up. He was a soldier through and through, even in death.
“Okay, hit me,” Maria said.
“The villagers await you, Maria.”
“Yes, I know. I’m trying. And, yeah, I’m boxing right now instead of figuring this out, but that’s a necessity.”
“I understand. You don’t want to go into battle unprepared,” Duke said. “But time is short. Malakai comes for you.”
“Yeah, I saw the marks he left on the door last night,” Maria said.
Duke cocked his head. “It was him? You’re sure of it?”
“I think so,” Maria answered.
“Then our time is even shorter. He’s more powerful than I originally thought.”
Maria paced. “What do you mean?”
“If he’s made a move, he knows for sure. But how he knows, I don’t—”
Realization hit Maria as hard as she had been hitting the punching bags.
“The lights,” Maria said, looking around at the dimness of the room. Something was happening.
“Lights?” Duke said before a cloud of darkness overtook Duke, like a swirling thunderstorm. From it, eight bulbous eyes blinked into existence. The gym disappeared around Maria. In her hands, she held the music box; the very weight of it gave her courage. She stood straight up, her shoulders square, ready to take on whatever came at her.
From the darkness, long, spindly legs reached for the box. Maria snapped it away. “Uh
