The Black Heart Crypt

Zack sensed that Malik’s friend Norman was nervous about something.

He had beads of sweat all over his shiny forehead.

“Hey, Norman?” A man with a shaved head and a tiny triangle beard on his chin stomped up to the counter. “Your father just called, said I could take the night off, seeing how it’s Halloween and I have a party to go to and you don’t because you’re such a loser so who’d invite you to their Halloween party except a bunch of even bigger losers?”

When the big guy stopped to snort some wet snot up his snout, Zack thought he looked and sounded like a college-aged version of Kurt and Kyle Snertz, the two bullies at his middle school (one of whom was now actually a friend of Zack’s).

“W-well, um,” stammered Norman Ickes, kind of cowering behind the cash register. “Okay, Steve. Have fun.”

“Don’t worry. I will.” He leaned down and yanked an extension cord out of its wall socket. “Your blinking jack-o’-lanterns are blinking stupid. I told your old man they’re a waste of electricity. He agreed. Happy Halloween, loser!”

Laughing, the big jerk strode out the front door as some new trick-or-treaters came pouring in. They were all wearing very cool costumes but Zack’s eyes were riveted on the man who came in right behind them.

He had an old-school mullet haircut and was wearing a dark-blue peacoat with the collar turned up, like tough guys used to do in movies.

He also walked straight through a gum ball machine.

Because ghosts can do that sort of thing.

“Hello, Jennings,” the guy sneered. “Pleased to meet ya, you little cheese weasel.”

Zipper growled.

“Who are you?” asked Zack.

“Uh-oh,” said Malik.

“Um, Zack? Who are you talking to?” asked Azalea.

He pointed toward the gum ball machine.

“Do we have a live one?” whispered Azalea.

“Actually,” Zack whispered back, “it’s a dead one. Judging by his hair and clothes, I’m guessing he died sometime in the seventies.”

“What’s he want?” said Malik.

Zack shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“Well, ask him,” suggested Azalea.

“What do you want?”

“You, kid. Your family and mine? We got a score to settle.”

The ghost strolled closer, jabbed a thumb over his shoulder.

“Course, I couldn’t come at you earlier, not with all them jack-o’-lanterns glowing in the window. Those things ward off ghosts, man. But now, guess what? They’re all dark and you’re all mine!”