The Smoky Corridor

14

Judy sipped some coffee from her mug and watched as Zack hurried down the driveway to the street, headed for his bus stop.

Zipper whined and whimpered, the way he did when he couldn’t reach his favorite squishy ball under the furniture.

“I know, Zip,” said Judy. “I miss him already, too.”

Judy had meant to tell Zack about the obituary she had just read in the weekly newspaper. Rodman Willoughby, the eighty-something-year-old chauffeur for the late Gerda Spratling (she had been one of the human demons Zack and Judy had battled when they’d first moved to North Chester), had passed away. The newspapers called him “the Spratling family’s loyal and faithful servant since 1940.”

Zack had saved Mr. Willoughby’s life back in June; now, just three months later, Mr. Willoughby was dead and buried.

Judy wondered if in his final days Mr. Willoughby had felt any remorse for all the horrible things the wealthy Spratlings had ordered him to do during his years of “faithful service.”

The unimaginable things he’d almost done to Zack and an innocent baby.

But Zack had saved the old geezer’s life anyway. Why? “Seemed like the right thing to do at the time,” he had told Judy.

Remembering that made Judy smile.

She’d been pretty lucky. Her terrific husband, George, had come with a bonus: a fantastic son, a somewhat shy boy with a big imagination and even bigger heart. Sure, he was a little skinny, wore glasses, and looked like a weakling, but Judy knew the truth: Zack Jennings was a courageous young man who wasn’t afraid to do what was right or to help other people, no matter the consequences.

But he didn’t need to hear about Mr. Willoughby that morning.

He had enough ghosts to deal with for one day. The two brothers, some kind of crossing guard—not to mention all the undiscovered monsters lurking in the shadows, the school bullies always looking for a skinny kid in glasses they could pick on.

Judy hoped they’d leave Zack alone.

If they didn’t?

She smiled.

“You’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’, boys.”