The Hanging Hill

36

Zack and Meghan stood mesmerized by what they saw shimmering on the far wall.

“Cool,” said Meghan.

“Yeah,” Zack agreed.

It was a young girl and boy, both wearing costumes that sort of made them look like that sailor on the front of a Cracker Jack box.

Both juggling fruit.

“They’re pretty good,” whispered Zack. He didn’t recognize the boy, but the girl sure looked familiar. She was the one he and Meghan had seen juggling in the stairwell. Only, she wasn’t.

“She’s not real,” said Zack.

“That’s her,” said Meghan.

“Yeah. Only it’s not really her. She’s—I don’t know—too flat.” Zack held a finger to his lips. “Hear it?”

“Yeah,” said Meghan.

The faint whir of a movie projector.

Zack took a top hat off a Styrofoam head and blew away the dust rimming its brim. Soon tiny flecks were sparkling in the movie projector’s narrow funnel of light.

Zipper made his way to where the beacon disappeared through the costumes hanging on a wardrobe rack, and Zack thought about that scene in The Wizard of Oz where Toto pulls open the curtains to reveal the humbug pretending to be a wizard. Today it was Zipper’s turn. He chomped into a gown and yanked it sideways.

Meghan lunged at the rack with a rubber-tipped tomahawk, another prop from another show.

“Hiyah!” She attacked the empty clothes. “Hiyah!”

“Meghan?”

“Nothing,” she reported. “Nobody.”

Zack peered through the opening and saw an unattended movie projector unspooling a reel of film.

“Somebody set this up,” he said. “Hung that sheet against the wall to make a movie screen.”

“Why?”

Zack shrugged. “Maybe they like old juggler movies.”

“Yeah, you don’t see many of those at the multiplex anymore.”

All of a sudden, they heard the sharp swick-swickswick of a swishing sword.

“‘A hit, a very palpable hit!’”

Zipper dropped to his belly, assumed his pounce position.

Zack and Meghan pushed apart the costumes and peered out at a dashing young man in tights, a tunic, and what looked like balloon-legged shorts. He was flicking his rapier back and forth, fencing with an unseen enemy.

“‘Another hit; what say you?’ ‘A touch, a touch, I do confess!’”

“That’s the swordfight scene from Hamlet,” Meghan whispered. “He’s doing all the parts!”

The guy was fit and trim, with long dark hair that swept back over the puffy shoulders of his costume. He waggled his blade with one hand while the other remained heroically cocked at his hip. Zack figured he must’ve been a leading man or a movie star. Maybe both.

“‘O villainy!’ Ho!” He clutched his chest. “‘Thou hast slain me!’” He staggered forward. “‘Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant ne’er taste of death but once.’” He dropped to his knees. “I … am … done … for.”

And then he vanished

“He’s a ghost,” said Zack. “A real one!”

“He’s also a ham,” said Meghan. “I’ve never seen anybody chew that much scenery in one bite.”

“Help!”

“That’s Derek!” said Zack.

“Help! It’s a giant! A giant monster!”

Zack and Meghan looked at each other.

“Cool!”

They’d track down the missing projectionist later. Right now they had to go rescue Derek Stone from some sort of Giant Monster!

No wonder Kimble didn’t want kids in the basement. It was more fun than Disney World!