شبی با عروسک زنده فصل 10

Night of the Living Dummy - Chapter 10

“I—I don’t believe this!” Kris managed to whisper. She turned and caught the frightened expression on Lindy’s face.

“What’s going on?” Lindy cried.

Both sisters hurried across the room. Kris grabbed Mr. Wood by the back of the neck and pulled him off the other dummy. She felt as if she were separating two fighting boys.

She held Mr. Wood up in front of her, examining him carefully, staring at his face as if half-expecting him to talk to her.

Then she lowered the dummy and tossed it facedown onto her bed. Her face was pale and taut with fear.

Lindy stooped and picked up Slappy’s brown shoes from the floor. She held them up and studied them, as if they would offer a clue as to what had happened.

“Kris—did you do this?” Lindy asked softly.

“Huh? Me?” Kris reacted with surprise.

“I mean, I know you’re jealous of Slappy and me—” Lindy started.

“Whoa. Wait a minute,” Kris replied angrily in a shrill, trembling voice. “I didn’t do this, Lindy. Don’t accuse me.” Lindy glared at her sister, studying her face. Then her expression softened and she sighed. “I don’t get. I just don’t get it. Look at Slappy. He’s nearly been torn apart.” She set the shoes down on the chair and picked the dummy up gently as if picking up a baby. Holding him in one hand, she struggled to pull his suit jacket up with the other.

Kris heard her sister mutter something. It sounded like “Your dummy is evil.”

“What did you say?” Kris demanded.

“Nothing,” Lindy replied, still struggling with the jacket. “I’m… uh… I’m kind of scared about this,” Lindy confessed, blushing, avoiding Kris’ eyes.

“Me, too,” Kris admitted. “Something weird is going on. I think we should tell Mom.”

Lindy buttoned the jacket. Then she sat down on the bed with Slappy on her lap and started to replace the dummy’s shoes. “Yeah. I guess we should,” she replied. “It—it’s just so creepy.” Their mother was in bed, reading a Stephen King novel. Her bedroom was dark except for a tiny reading lamp on her headboard that threw down a narrow triangle of yellow light.

Mrs. Powell uttered a short cry as her two daughters appeared out of the shadows. “Oh. You startled me. This is such a scary book, and I think I was just about to fall asleep.” “Can we talk to you?” Kris asked eagerly in a low whisper.

“Something weird is going on,” Lindy added.

Mrs. Powell yawned and closed her book. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s about Mr. Wood,” Kris said. “He’s been doing a lot of strange things.”

“Huh?” Mrs. Powell’s eyes opened wide. She looked pale and tired under the harsh light from the reading lamp.

“He was strangling Slappy,” Lindy reported. “And this afternoon, he said some really gross things. And—” “Stop!” Mrs. Powell ordered, raising one hand. “Just stop.”

“But, Mom—” Kris started.

“Give me a break, girls,” their mother said wearily. “I’m tired of your silly competitions.” “You don’t understand,” Lindy interrupted.

“Yes, I do understand,” Mrs. Powell said sharply. “You two are even competing with those ventriloquist dummies.” “Mom, please!”

“I want it to stop right now,” Mrs. Powell insisted, tossing the book onto her bed table. “I mean it. I don’t want to hear another word from either of you about those dummies. If you two have problems, settle it between yourselves.” “Mom, listen—”

“And if you can’t settle it, I’ll take the dummies away. Both of them. I’m serious.” Mrs. Powell reached above her head and clicked off the reading light, throwing the room into darkness. “Good night,” she said.

The girls had no choice but to leave the room. They slunk down the hall in silence.

Kris hesitated at the doorway to their bedroom. She expected to find Mr. Wood strangling Slappy again. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the two dummies on the bed where they had been left.

“Mom wasn’t too helpful,” Lindy said dryly, rolling her eyes. She picked up Slappy and started to arrange him in the chair in front of the window.

“I think she was asleep and we woke her up,” Kris replied.

She picked up Mr. Wood and started toward the chair with him—then stopped. “You know what? I think I’m going to put him in the closet tonight,” she said thoughtfully.

“Good idea,” Lindy said, climbing into bed.

Kris glanced down at the dummy, half-expecting him to react. To complain. To start calling her names.

But Mr. Wood grinned up at her, his painted eyes dull and lifeless.

Kris felt a chill of fear.

I’m becoming afraid of a stupid ventriloquist’s dummy, she thought.

I’m shutting him up in the closet tonight because I’m afraid.

She carried Mr. Wood to the closet. Then, with a groan, she raised him high above her head and slid him onto the top shelf. Carefully closing the closet door, listening for the click, she made her way to her bed.

She slept fitfully, tossing on top of the covers, her sleep filled with disturbing dreams. She awoke to find her nightshirt completely twisted, cutting off the circulation to her right arm. She struggled to straighten it, then fell back to sleep.

She awoke early, drenched in sweat. The sky was still dawn-gray outside the window.

The room felt hot and stuffy. She sat up slowly, feeling weary, as if she hadn’t slept at all.

Blinking away the sleep, her eyes focused on the chair in front of the window.

There sat Slappy, exactly where Lindy had placed him.

And beside him sat Mr. Wood, his arm around Slappy’s shoulder, grinning triumphantly at Kris as if he had just pulled off a wonderful joke.