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Brenda let out a sarcastic laugh and then they both grew silent.
Thomas and Brenda sat, backs against the wall, and the minutes stretched on. It was almost a peaceful quiet until Thomas heard an odd thumping sound that alarmed him.
“Do you hear that?” he asked, now fully at attention.
Brenda had stilled, head cocked to the side as she listened intently. “Yeah. Sounds like someone bangin’ on a drum.”
“I guess the fun and games are over.” He stood up, then helped Brenda do the same. “What do you think it is?”
“Chances are it’s not good.”
“But what if it’s our friends?”
The low bump-bump-bump suddenly seemed to come from everywhere at once, the echoes bouncing back and forth between the alley walls. But after a long few seconds, Thomas grew certain the sound was coming from a corner of the dead end. Despite the risk, he ran in that direction to get a look.
“What’re you doing!” Brenda snapped at him, but when he ignored her, she followed.
At the very end of the alley, Thomas reached a wall of cracked and faded bricks, where four stairs led down to a scratched and worn wooden door. Just above the door, there was a tiny rectangle of a window, its glass missing. One broken shard still hung at the top, like a jagged tooth.
Thomas could hear music playing, much louder now. It was intense and fast, the bass powerful, drums banging and guitars screaming. Mixed in were the sounds of people laughing and shouting and singing along. And none of it sounded very… sane. There was something creepy and disturbing about it.
It looked like the Cranks didn’t just look for peoples’ noses to bite off, and it gave Thomas a very bad feeling-this noise had nothing to do with his friends.
“We better get out of here,” Thomas said.
“Ya think?” Brenda responded, standing right at his shoulder.
“Come on.” Thomas turned to go just as she did, but they both froze. Three people had appeared in the alley while they’d been distracted. Two men and one woman, now standing only a few feet away.
Thomas’s stomach dropped as he quickly observed the new arrivals. Their clothes were tattered, their hair messy, their faces dirty. But when he looked closer he saw that they didn’t have any noticeable injuries, and their eyes showed glints of intelligence. Cranks, but not full-gone Cranks.
“Hi there,” the woman said. She had long red hair pulled into a ponytail. Her shirt was cut so low that Thomas had to force himself to keep his eyes focused on hers. “Come to join our party? Lots of dancing. Lots of lovin’. Lots of booze.”
There was an edge to her voice that made Thomas nervous. He didn’t know what it meant, but this lady wasn’t being nice. She was mocking them.
“Um, no thanks,” Thomas said. “We, uh, we were just-”
Brenda cut in. “Just trying to find our friends. We’re new here, just getting settled.”
“Welcome to WICKED’s very own Crankland.” This was one of the men, a tall, ugly guy with greasy hair. “Don’t worry, most of ’em down there”-he nodded toward the stairs-“are half gone at worst. You might get an elbow in the face, maybe kicked in the ’nads. But no one’s go
“’Nads?” Brenda repeated. “Excuse me?”
The man pointed at Thomas. “I was talkin’ to the boy. Things might get a little worse for you if you don’t stick close to us. You being female and all.”
This whole conversation was making Thomas ill. “Sounds like fun. But we gotta go. Find our friends. Maybe we’ll come back.”
The other man stepped forward. This one was short but handsome, with blond hair in a crew cut. “You two are nothin’ but kids. Time you got some lessons on life. Time you had some fun. We’re officially inviting you to the party.” He pronounced each word of the last sentence carefully, and with no kindness whatsoever.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” Brenda said.
Blondie pulled a gun from a pocket of his long jacket. It was a pistol, silver but grimy and dull. Still, it looked as menacing and deadly as anything Thomas had ever seen.
“I don’t think you understood me,” the man said. “You’re invited to our party. That’s not something you turn down.”
Tall and Ugly pulled out a knife. Ponytail pulled out a screwdriver, its tip black with what had to be old blood.
“What do you say?” Blondie asked. “Would you like to come to our party?”
Thomas looked at Brenda, but she didn’t look back. Her eyes were glued to the blond man, and her face said she was about to do something really stupid.
“Okay,” Thomas said quickly. “We’ll go. Let’s do it.”
Brenda snapped her head around. “What?”
“He has a gun. He has a knife. She’s got a shuck screwdriver! I’m not in the mood to have an eyeball smashed into my skull.”
“Looks like your boyfriend’s not stupid,” Blondie said. “Now let’s go have some fun.” He pointed his pistol at the stairs and smiled. “Feel free to lead the way.”
Brenda was clearly angry, but her eyes also revealed that she knew they had no other choice. “Fine.”
Blondie smiled again; the expression would’ve looked natural on a snake. “That’s the spirit. Fine and dandy, nothing to worry about.”
“No one’s go
Thomas had to fight to keep the panic from pounding through him. “Let’s just go,” he said to Blondie.
“Waiting on you.” The man pointed at the stairs with his gun again.
Thomas reached out and grabbed Brenda’s hand, pulled her close to him. “Let’s go to the party, sweetheart.” He put as much sarcasm into it as he could. “This’ll be so much fun!”
“That’s very nice,” Ponytail said. “I get weepy when I see two people in love.” She feigned wiping tears from her cheeks.
With Brenda by his side, Thomas turned toward the stairs, aware the whole time of the gun pointed at his back. They made their way down the steps to the old slab of a door, the space just wide enough for them to go side by side. When they reached the bottom, Thomas didn’t see a handle. Raising his eyebrows, he looked back at Blondie, who stood two steps behind them.
“Gotta do the special knock,” the man said. “Three slow fist thumps, three fast ones, then two knuckle taps.”
Thomas hated these people. He hated the way they spoke so calmly and said mostly nice words, all of them full of mockery. In a way these Cranks were worse than the nose-missing guy he’d stabbed the day before-at least with him they’d known exactly what they were dealing with.
“Do it,” Brenda whispered.
Thomas balled his hand into a fist and did the slow fist thumps, then the fast ones. Then he rapped the wood twice with his knuckles. The door opened immediately, the pounding music escaping like a blasting wind.
The guy who greeted them was huge, ears and face pierced several times, tattoos all over. His hair was long and white, reaching well past his shoulders. But Thomas barely had time to register this before the man spoke.
“Hey, Thomas. We’ve been waiting for you.”
CHAPTER 37
The next minute or so was a stu
The welcome statement had shocked Thomas, but before he could respond, the long-haired man practically pulled him and Brenda inside, then started ushering them through a tightly packed crowd of dancing bodies, gyrating and jumping and hugging and spi
Long Hair leaned over and spoke to Thomas as they slowly made their way through the dancers; Thomas could barely hear him even though he was yelling.