Chapter Fifteen: The Blue Cavalry and a Razor

Those little button eyes stared right at me. Hard to imagine buttons as eyes, despite what several generations of toy makers happen to think. Button eyes are creepy anyway, but try to imagine buttons that stare, glow a faint red, and track movement. Like I said, creepy. It didn’t help they were attatched to a life sized, voodoo-zombie doll of a Catholic school-girl. Really creepy.

*unpainted version of the zombie-school girl by author.  Theivery of  this drawing will result in you being eaten by angry weasels.

I backed up a step and bumped into my boss, who happened to take a step forward at the same time. Normally this would have made me shudder, bumping into a several hundred-possibly-older, vampire who had until moments ago been flirting with a magic shop keeper. The button eyes were creepier though, sharp as a razor and just as cutting.

Mr. Harris, my boss, put a hand on my shoulder, I think to steady me or show he was there or some such other comforting gesture. Hey, but you know what? Being in anyway touched by a predator who has been clever enough, strong enough and lucky enough to survive undetected in the herd of sheep, is in fact NOT comforting. Just made me feel surrounded.

I shrugged off the hand, but didn’t move. “Steady Ophelia.” His soft voice sounded amused again, which figured. He would be. “This is just what we want. Go out there and fetch the little girl, please.”
I turned my head, trying not to take my eyes off of the little school girl dressed voodoo-zombie in front of me. “You are fucking nuts. You go get it.” This really is a sign of how freaked out I was. Little tip-never mouth off to your boss if he can eat you.

I heard Annabelle move up next to me. “It’s alright Ophelia.” Her voice was soft and musical, like something that should be coming out of the mouth of a elf in a Tolkein movie, not an apothecary in Lawrence, Kansas. My own voice was low for a girl’s and had the scratchiness to it that comes from smoking, drinking, and yelling. A lot. Right now it was even worse, which isn’t surprising given the day I was having.

“There is nothing, nothing, alright about that.” I jerked my chin toward the doll still staring at me. I swear to god its little stitched up mouth smiled.

“I just need it in the shop, Ophelia. Do as you are told.” My boss had his boss voice on, which is usually terrifying and would have a normal person grovelling at his feet. Of course, he wouldn’t have bothered to use it on a normal person, which I am sadly not.

“Crap. Fine.” I said it through my gritted teeth. What I really wanted to do was run the other way, but it wouldn’t have helped anyway. I would have been caught. I always get caught. I really have to stop smoking.

I took a step forward and a deep breath and hoped it wouldn’t be as strong as the one from this morning. I had just started to get over the headache and the bleeding in my foot had well and truly stopped. I took one more step and was right at the door jam. The thing just stood there and stared up at me. Button eyes and stitched mouth all smiling and evil. Number two pencil all covered in blood. I took another deep breath and stepped over the threshold.

At that precise moment, three things happened. One: The zombie voodoo-doll ran for my legs, evil little pencil raised; Two: My boss actually stepped out into the alley and was suddenly behind the little critter; And Three: The rest of the zombies came around the corner of the alley like a slightly blue cavalry coming to the little blond zombies rescue. Crap. And me without my umbrella.

Want to read from the beginning?

http://authspot.com/short-stories/broken-bottle-and-a-phone-book/

See the previous chapter at:

http://authspot.com/novels/chapter-fourteen-piano-lessons-and-fire/

See the illustrated web-comic at

http://anniehintsala.blogspot.com/