D. MacHale - The Reality Bug

“That’s mine,” he said. “I dropped it outside. They must have dragged it in here.” It was a small lie, but Mark didn’t want to admit he had been trespassing. “Look,” he added to change the subject. “That’s where they broke through the window.”

Wilson pointed out the shards of glass on the porch. “It was broken from inside,” he deduced. “They must have cut themselves up pretty good.”

“How did you know they broke through the window?” Officer Matt asked Mark. “You can’t see it from the gate.”

Oops. Mark had to think fast. “I heard the glass break and then saw them running around.”

Were the police going to buy this story? Of course they were.

Mark wasn’t the type to trespass on private property… or so they thought. Mark held up the remains of his backpack. The quigs had really chewed it up. He lost two textbooks, a library book, a chocolate bar, and all his carrots. Mark knew that chocolate wasn’t good for dogs and hoped they choked on it.

“Let’s check inside,” Officer Wilson suggested.

Wilson had a key for the front door as well. When they all stepped inside, both Mark and Courtney had the same thought: haunted house. The place was huge, with high ceilings and a curved staircase that led to the second floor.

“Here, boy!” Wilson called out again, and whistled.

Again, no response. Mark looked to Courtney and shrugged. He really wanted to look at his ring, but didn’t risk taking it out of his pocket. The policemen then led the kids on a tour of the house, checking each and every room. They first checked the ground floor, walking through the grand entryway, through the living room, the huge dining room and into the big kitchen. Besides the broken window, there was no sign of any dog.

They went down to the basement. It was a vast space with a cement floor. There were a few wooden doors that were closed. The officers opened them all. One room had nothing but empty, wooden racks. The wine cellar. Another room had a long wooden table that was scarred and stained. The workshop. Another room was nothing more than a large, cool space with wispy remnants that looked like dead weeds hanging from the ceiling. Mark had heard of places like this. Root cellar is what his grandmother used to call it. It was a cool, dry place for storing onions and potatoes and the like. It looked to be dug out of the earth, with one wall being nothing more than a vast chunk of the rock that the house had been built on top of.

It was all very interesting, but there were no dogs.

The caravan then went up to the second floor. There was one long corridor with empty bedrooms off either side. Each of the rooms was connected by an inner door, so that you could choose to travel from one end of the house to the other through the corridor, or by going from room to room. Again, no dogs.

The next stop was the third floor. This was a smaller floor than the others. There were two bedrooms on one side, and a large attic on the other with a high, pointed ceiling where you could see the rafters of the house. It was empty. No dogs and no sign that dogs had ever been there. Once they stepped into the attic, the last room of the house, the police officers relaxed.

“Whatever you saw, Mark,” Wilson said, “they’re gone now.”

“Are you sure? I mean, maybe we should check the yard.”

Wilson shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

They all went downstairs and out onto the porch. The four of them moved cautiously around the whole property. Mark had no idea it was so big. They saw some old wooden buildings that probably had something to do with the chicken farm. There were a lot of trees and an empty swimming pool and even a small golf green. At one time this was a busy place. Now it was forgotten and sad. The policemen even inspected every inch of the wall along the ground to see if an animal might have tunneled its way in or out. But there was no sign of anything like that.

“Any other ideas?” Officer Wilson asked. The cop respected Mark. If any other kid had given them this story, they probably wouldn’t have believed a word.

“No,” Mark answered. “Sorry.”

Courtney glanced to Mark with a “You sure you saw dogs?” look. Mark could only shrug.

“Don’t be sorry,” Wilson said. “You did the right thing. Whatever was in here got away somehow, that’s all.”

They walked out through the front gate and Officer Matt locked it up. Officer Wilson returned the tranquilizer gun and the srrare to the trunk of the police cruiser.

“If you see anything else, be sure to call, okay?” Wilson said.

“Okay,” Mark answered.

The two cops got back into their cruiser and sped off, leaving Mark and Courtney alone in front of the house. “I’m not lying, Courtney,” Mark said. “I didn’t think you were.”

“So then what happened to the quigs?” he said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his ring. The strange symbol was glowing brightly.

“I don’t know,” answered Courtney. “But we saw pretty much every inch of that place and there was nothing strange that would make that ring glow.”

“Then we missed it,” Mark announced.

The two looked at each other. Each knew what the other was thinking.

“We gotta go back in,” Mark said with finality.

“Yeah, I know. Where’s the tree we gotta climb over?” Courtney asked.

(CONTINUED)

Mark led Courtney around to the side of the property and the tree that was their ladder. Courtney gave Mark a leg up, then Mark reached down and gave Courtney a helping hand. Seconds later the two of them jumped off the wall and landed back inside the property.

“Wait,” Mark said. He looked back at the wall, scanning both left and right.

“What are you looking for?” Courtney asked.

“There!” Mark pointed to an old, wooden tool shed. “If we gotta get back over fast, head for that shed. We can climb up the side.”

He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. This time he wanted to be ready. Courtney nodded and headed for the house. Neither was nervous, since they had just done a thorough inspection and knew the quigs were gone.

“I say we start inside the house,” Courtney said. “There are a lot of rooms we may have missed.”

They climbed up onto the porch and stopped at the broken window.

“That’s our door,” Mark announced. He made a move to go in, but Courtney stopped him.

“Mark, I’m in,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I want to be an acolyte.”

Mark couldn’t help but smile. “You sure?”

“Yeah, it just took some time to get my head around it,” Courtney said sincerely. “I think it’s an important thing to do. And I don’t want to let you down. Or Bobby.”

Mark smiled. “I never thought you would,” he said as he lifted one leg through the broken window.

Mark’s confidence in her made Courtney feel better than she had in weeks. Maybe Mark was right. Maybe she had a more important role to play than sports superstar. She knew one thing for certain: She wanted the chance to find out. But there was no time to feel warm and fuzzy. They had work to do. So Courtney followed Mark inside.

The two of them stood in the grand entryway, once again taking it all in.

“Where to first?” Courtney asked.

Mark lifted his ring and saw that the symbol was still glowing brightly.

“Let’s start in the attic and work our way-” Mark stopped talking. He had heard something. Courtney heard it too.

“What was that?” Courtney asked.

“Sounded like something scratching across wood.”

“There it is again!” Courtney exclaimed. “It’s outside, on the porch.”

They both turned to the broken window they had just come through.