His attention is once more drawn to the gris-gris, and he takes it off again, opens it and reads the engravement. This time, he reads it out loud.
“Some spells only end with the one who cast them.”
“What does that mean?” Dan asks.
Dennis looks at him. “I think … I think it means I was under some sort of spell. And it ended when Mom died just now.”
“What kind of spell?” William asks, frowning.
Dennis shakes his head. “I don’t know, but … it was something making me feel very different. Now, as it’s changing, I feel like a cloud is lifting from my mind. Like I said, I can think a whole lot clearer. I can read without difficulty.”
William glances at Dan, then back at Dennis. “Dude, you sound like you’re having a trip.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Liv says. “He sounds normal.”
“Normal,” Dennis repeats, and it’s like that word is a password unlocking another room in his brain. Suddenly, he sees himself as a four-year-old, playing in the garden on a winter day, building a snowman. “I used to be normal,” Dennis whispers. “Before I had the brain fever. This was what it felt like. Being normal.”
“You had a brain fever?” William asks. “When?”
“When I was four.”
“How did it happen?” Dan asks. “What caused it?”
Dennis shrugs. “I don’t know, Mom never told me. I just remember being in the hospital. The doctors tried their best to cure me, but they couldn’t. So, Mom brought me home and … and made me better … she made me …” Dennis suddenly can’t get the words out. What Mom said just before she died rings out in his mind.
“I should have listened to the doctors … it’s all my fault … you must understand … I was only trying to help … I thought I could undo it …”
“The doctors, they … they failed to cure me,” he mutters. “At least that’s what she’s always told me, but … but I’m not so sure that’s actually what happened … I think … I think Mom might have been the one who … who made me this way, and … the doctors … the doctors saved me …”
Dennis feels a wave of dizziness roll over him, and he would have collapsed to the floor if William hadn’t jumped in to catch him.
“Dude, you really need to sit down,” he says, helping Dennis over to a chair. “Get him a glass of water, Dan.”
Dennis slumps down and rubs his forehead with both hands. “God, it’s like … everything is turning upside down.”
“Give it a rest for now,” William suggests. “You’re obviously reliving some fucked up trauma. Maybe don’t let it up to the surface all at once.”
But Dennis can’t help it, the images keep spilling out of his memory. Him in the hospital, Mom shouting at the doctors, her bringing him back home.
“They tried to help me,” Dennis whispers as Dan brings him a glass of water. He takes it, yet just stares at it. “But only after Mom had tried to cure me with voodoo.”
“So, you did have a brain fever?” Dan asks, sitting down across from him.
Dennis nods. “That part is true. I remember falling ill. But Mom didn’t trust doctors. She never did. When she finally realized she couldn’t help me, it was too late. The curse she put on me … it must have been one that couldn’t be lifted. It could only end when she died.”
“Holy shit,” William mumbles. “Talk about parents fucking up their kids; this a whole new level of social heritage. I’m really sorry, dude.”
“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Dan says, sending Dennis a smile. “Just take it easy to begin with, okay? Give yourself time to get used to it.”
Dennis nods. That’s clever advice. Besides, there’s a torrent of different emotions raging in his stomach area, ranging from relief to grief to anger. It’ll take him time to sort it all out.
“The bad news is,” William says, “now that you’re normal again, you’ll have to pay taxes and all that boring shit the rest of us are dealing with.”
“You’ll also have to deal with William’s lame jokes,” Dan interjects, raising one eyebrow.
“Ey!” William cries out. “Uncalled for!”
Liv and Dan laugh, and Dennis can’t help but snort with laughter too, surprising himself. Jokes used to fly right by him, but now he gets it. As he looks at their faces, all three of them smiling back at him, he thinks to himself: Is this normal? This isn’t too bad.
THIRTY-FIVE
“Enough bantering,” William says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s go check on our guinea pig.”
They get up from the table and go to the living room.
Dan is relieved to find the tarp bag still lying completely still and no sounds coming from it.
“Here’s how we’ll do it,” William says, going to the bag, carrying the rifle. “I aim this at the head of the guy, and one of you cuts open the tarp. If he tries anything funny, I’ll blast him to hell and we’ll have to rethink the entire thing. Okay?”
“Okay,” Dan says. “I’ll cut the tarp. You two, stay back.”
Liv and Dennis stay by the doorway as Dan goes back to the kitchen and gets a knife from the drawer. He then reenters the living room and places himself next to the bag, opposite of William.
“You ready?” he asks.
William places the rifle against his shoulder, pointing the barrel at the place where the zombie’s head must be located. “Ready.”
Ozzy whimpers from the doorway.
Dan takes a deep breath, then bends over and pushes the point of the knife through the tarp. He’s careful, not cutting too deep, not wanting to cut the zombie. He drags the knife down, sliding easily through the tarp and the tape, opening the whole thing like a giant wallet.
Then he steps back quickly.
William holds the rifle for a couple of seconds before lowering it. “I think we’re good. He looks
