The Black Heart Crypt

Early Saturday, two days before Halloween, Zack; his stepmom, Judy; and his two best friends from school, Malik Sherman and Azalea Torres, piled into Judy’s car and headed out to pick pumpkins at Paproski’s Pumpkin Patch, a farm a few miles south of North Chester.

They took Zipper, too, because pumpkin picking was an outdoor activity. But Zack would need to make sure that Zip didn’t pee on somebody else’s just-picked pumpkin.

Zack’s father would’ve joined them for pumpkin picking, but even though it was Saturday, he was extremely busy managing the affairs of the Pettimore Charitable Trust, which, thanks to Zack and Malik, had just inherited a ton of gold. Literally. The boys had found more than two thousand pounds of solid gold bars hidden underneath their middle school.

Malik and a school janitor named Wade Muggins, who kind of sort of accidentally helped discover the gold, were supposed to receive big rewards. Malik would use his share to help his mother pay her colossal medical bills. Mr. Muggins would probably use his to buy an electric guitar and several cowbells.

“Here we go, guys,” said Judy as the car bumped down a gravel road toward the field where pumpkin pickers parked. Zack could see acres of wilted greenery spotted with bright orange balls. Hay bales, some with comical scarecrows squatting on top, lined paths to wagon rides, an apple cider stand, and a corn maze—what Paproski’s Pumpkin Patch called the Amazing Haunted Maize Maze.

“Did you know that the tradition of carving gourds into lanterns dates back thousands of years to Africa?” said Malik, who was African American and quite proud of his heritage. He was also the smartest kid in Zack’s sixth-grade class.

“So why do they call them Jack O’Lanterns?” asked Azalea, who had stopped doing her total Goth look but had maintained much of her Goth ’tude. “Were Jack and the beanstalk from Africa, too?”

“Doubtful,” said Malik. “The term ‘jack-o’-lantern’ comes from the phenomenon of strange lights flickering over the Irish peat bogs, called ignis fatuus or jack-o’-lantem.”

“Irish, huh?” said Azalea. “No wonder his last name is O’Lantern.”

“Indeed,” said Malik, who sometimes talked like a walking Wikipedia. “Throughout Ireland and Britain, there is a long tradition of carving lanterns from vegetables. Particularly the turnip and mangel-wurzel.”

Behind the wheel, Judy laughed. “The mangel-what?”

“The mangel-wurzel,” said Malik. “It is a little-known root vegetable hailing from the same family as beets.”

“You mean the yucky family?” said Azalea, scrunching up her nose. “I hate beets!”

“Me too,” said Judy. “They smell like dirt.”

“Exactly!” said Azalea.

Zack, who was riding up front in the passenger seat, smiled. It was so cool to have a carful of friends, not to mention one totally awesome stepmother. It sort of made up for the first nine years of his life, when he had no friends and a mother who never smiled.

“I heard this legend about a guy named Stingy Jack,” said Zack, turning around in his seat.

“Aw, you’re not that stingy, Zack,” said Azalea, winking at Malik, who chuckled.

“Jack, not Zack!”

“Whatever.”

“When Stingy Jack died, the devil couldn’t take his soul, on account of some trick Jack played on the devil when he was still alive. And God wouldn’t let Stingy Jack into heaven, either, because Jack had hung out with the devil while he was living. So after he died, they both tossed Jack out and he became this doomed soul, wandering around with nothing but a glowing coal to light his way. Jack put the coal into a carved-out turnip and he’s been roaming around ever since. The Irish people called his ghost Jack of the Lantern, which, you know, became jack-o’-lantern.”

“This Jack ghost,” said Azalea, “you ever meet him, Zack?”

“Nope.”

“How about you, Mrs. Jennings?”

“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure,” said Judy, turning to park where a guy flapping a flag directed her.

“They say people carve pumpkins and turn them into lanterns to scare off Jack and all the other spirits roaming around on Halloween night,” said Zack.

“How about that dude?” said Azalea, gesturing at the flag waver, who was costumed in a bedsheet and skeleton mask. “Is he a ghost?”

“No,” said Malik. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t be able to see him.”

“But Zack and Mrs. Jennings could, right?” said Azalea. She’d missed a lot of what had happened when Zack and Malik were dealing with the roaming spirits underneath their middle school, because, well, Azalea’s body (and brain) had been taken over by an evil ancestor.

Fortunately, Azalea’s possession had lasted less than a day. When the evil spirit left her, her memories of the event said buh-bye, too, which was weird because Azalea usually had a photographic memory. She didn’t have to cram for exams; she had all the textbook pages burned into her brain cells.

So of course Azalea remembered the time when Zack told her that he could see ghosts.

His stepmom, Judy, had the gift, too. His dad used to have it but lost it when he turned thirteen. The gift had returned, however, when he really, really needed it: when Zack was being chased through a maze of tunnels by a brains-gobbling zombie.

Of course, his dad might have relost his ghost-seeing ability just as quickly as he had refound it; it could have been a one-time-only, emergency-situation type of deal. The jury was still out on that one, his dad said (probably because he was a lawyer).

Malik? He hadn’t been able to see any of the ghosts he and Zack had bumped into under the school. Zack figured it was because Malik was too smart: His rational brain overrode any irrational woo-woo junk trying to creep in.

Azalea? She’d been out to lunch mentally when all the ghosts started popping up. The jury was still out on her, too.

And Zipper? Zip saw everything Zack saw, maybe more. Every once in a while, the dog would sit in the middle of a room, staring at a blank wall, and Zack knew his dog had spotted some sort of spirit lurking behind the plasterboard.

“Come on, you guys,” said Judy when the car was parked. “Let’s go pick some pumpkins. Ones with good shapes for scary faces!”

Zipper barked in agreement.

It was his “hurry up and let me out” bark. It’d been a long car ride, so he wanted to find a pumpkin, too.

One shaped like a fire hydrant.