Chris Grabenstein - The Black Heart Crypt

“I guess Zip and I can rough it on the couch down there for a couple nights.”

“Great,” said Judy.

“Their plane lands at nine,” said his dad. “You want to ride out to the airport with me, Zack?”

“Sure.”

His father chuckled. “They’ll probably have a ton of luggage. They always do. They might even bring their cats.”

“Cats?” said Judy.

“Yeah. They each have one.”

Under the table, Zipper grumbled.

He sounded like he was looking forward to this visit about as much as Zack was.

On Sundaymorning, Zack and his dad stood in the baggage claim area at Connecticut’s Bradley Airport, waiting for the aunts to arrive.

All sorts of people were milling around, staring up at the arrivals monitor or over at the hallway where the passengers on flight 33 from Miami would soon appear.

Zack saw a strangely dressed young airplane pilot wandering around the empty baggage carousel. Judging by his uniform, Zack knew he didn’t work for any of the airlines.

The guy was wearing a World War II flight suit and a goggled helmet. He also had a cockpit seat strapped to his butt. Whenever he walked past someone in the crowd, they would shiver like they just drank a Slurpee too fast.

Nobody but Zack saw the ghost of the World War II flying ace.

Well, the dog working with the security patrol probably saw him, but it was too busy sniffing stuff to snarl at the antique aviator.

Zack’s dad, who the guy almost bumped into as he loped around the baggage carousel, didn’t see the pilot, proving that he had once again lost his ghost-seeing abilities.

“Georgie?” yodeled a sweet voice. “Yoo-hoo. Georgie?”

The ghost vanished.

Zack turned around and saw three white-haired ladies toddling up the wide terminal in a flying wedge formation. The yodeling one, the one in the middle, was wearing a flowery dress and hiking boots. Smiling and laughing, she stretched her arms out wide.

“Oh, Georgie! Let me look at you. You’re a sight for sore eyes!”

“You too, Aunt Ginny!” They hugged. Zack smelled petunias. Aunt Ginny must like flowery perfume.

“Hello, Zachary,” said the tall aunt on the left. She looked as brittle as stick candy and had more wrinkles on her face than Zack had in his pajamas.

“Oh me, oh my,” giggled the chubby one on the right, who had bazoombas the size of Paproski’s prizewinning pumpkins. “Hello, Zachary, hello!” She squeezed his cheeks. “You’re so cute, I could gobble you up.”

Zack smiled even though she looked like she might actually eat children for breakfast. With syrup and lots of butter.

“You’ve certainly grown since the wedding,” said the tall one very matter-of-factly.

“He sure has, Aunt Hannah,” said Zack’s dad.

“Must be eating right,” said the pudgy one with the pillow chest.

“Zack, you remember Aunt Ginny, Aunt Sophie, and Aunt Hannah?”

“Uh, yeah. Hi.”

“And how’s Judy?” gushed Aunt Ginny.

“Great. She’s at home.”

“Is she fixing breakfast?” asked Aunt Sophie, eagerly fluttering her eyelids behind her gigantically round glasses. “They only fed us sugar cookies and peanuts on the plane. Will there be snacks in the car, Georgie?”

“First things first,” said Aunt Hannah, who Zack figured was the boss. “Where is our luggage?” She glared at the unmoving baggage conveyor belt. “We had to pay to check our bags. Having paid, you’d think—”

An air horn blared three times and an alarm bell rang.

The conveyor belt started up. Suitcases immediately slid down the chute.

“Oh, goody!” said Sophie. “Here come our trunks.”

“Come on, Zack,” said his dad. “Give me a hand here.”

Zack and his dad stepped up to the conveyor belt. Three antique footlockers, the kind magicians and cruise passengers pack their gear in, trundled down the chute.

“Those are ours,” decreed Hannah.

“And those, too,” said Aunt Ginny, gesturing toward three hefty satchels made out of paisley-swirled carpet and clasped at the top with fancy brass hardware.

“You sure you ladies packed enough?” Zack’s dad asked as he heaved the first trunk off the carousel.

“Well,” said Ginny, “we didn’t know exactly what we might need, so we packed everything.”

“What Virginia meant to say,” said Aunt Hannah, “is that your weather up here is rather unpredictable, much different from what we enjoy down in Florida.”

“Oh, yes,” Aunt Sophie chimed in. “That’s what Virginia meant to say. It’s the weather. We brought several different wardrobes.”

“By wardrobes, do you mean furniture?” Zack’s dad joked. “These things are heavier than a chest of drawers!”

Zack helped his dad lug the second trunk onto a rolling cart.

“And here comes our most precious cargo!” chirped Aunt Ginny as an airline porter rolled a wagon carrying three pet carriers toward them. “Our kitties!”

“So you brought all your cats?” said Zack’s dad.

“Heavens, no,” sniffed Hannah. “Just the three who aren’t afraid to fly.”

Once thetrunks and bags and cats were loaded into the back of the family van, Zack and his dad helped the elderly aunts step up into the vehicle.

Aunt Hannah, claiming seniority, would be riding shotgun.

Zack sat in the back on the bench seat, sandwiched between ginormous Aunt Sophie and smiling Aunt Ginny. Actually, Sophie was so wide-bottomed, Zack and Ginny were basically sharing the right half of the bench.

“ ‘Bradley Airport,’ ” said Aunt Ginny, reading the big road sign as they drove past it. “ ‘Welcome to Connecticut. The Constitution State. Enjoy Your Visit.’ Do you read billboards, Zack?”

“Well, not out loud …”

“Oh, it’s an excellent way to sharpen one’s reading skills, don’t you think?”

“I guess.”

“Do you know why they call this Bradley Airport?” Aunt Ginny was beaming at Zack the way a good teacher does, the kind who wants you to learn everything she already knows.

“No, ma’am.”

“Well, that’s all right. Very few people in Connecticut do. You see, the airfield was named after a World War II fighter pilot named Eugene Bradley, a young man from Antlers, Oklahoma, who, during a training exercise, crashed his plane in the woods just north of here.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. Lieutenant Bradley was the first fatality at what, in 1941, was a brand-new army air base.”

“Neat. So, how come you know all this stuff?”

“Don’t forget, dear: Hannah, Sophie, and I grew up in North Chester with your grandpa Jim.”

“Right.”

Now Aunt Ginny leaned in closer and covered her mouth so she and Zack could share a secret.

“I also think the plane crash is why Lieutenant Bradley is forever pacing around that baggage carousel. He must be looking for his lost flight bag.”

Zack’s eyes widened.

Aunt Ginny winked.

She’d seen the pilot with the seat strapped to his seat, too!

“Oh, my!”gushed Aunt Sophie. “This food tastes delicious! Mmm!”

The whole family, all six Jenningses, was seated around the big dining room table, which Judy had decorated with gourds, a couple of carved pumpkins, and dried leaves to give it a real Halloween feel.