Free Popcorn Thief by Leah Cutter Page B

came in the front,
then went out the back.” Because it had probably attacked Lexine first, which
gave the businessman time to run away.
    “The businessman was in the kitchen, wasn’t he? You think he
was attacked second?” Darryl said as they walked back toward the cabin again.
    “Yeah,” Franklin said. He couldn’t mention the bloody door,
how the businessman had been trying to get out. At least the businessman’s
ghost had passed on, or was haunting someone else if it hadn’t.
    The trees loomed a few feet from the house, as if they were
just waiting to take the land back. Leaves and scraggly grass covered the dirt
path going from the front to the back. The chorus of cicadas was deafening,
cycling up and down, like sirens.
    Darryl walked right up to the first kitchen window, Franklin
beside him. They couldn’t see much—the thing hadn’t been as destructive
there, and the counter hid the floor where the body had been.
    “See anything?” Franklin asked. All he received was a glare.
    Darryl looked through the window above the sink, then the
one over the kitchen table, but he didn’t seem to find anything.
    “What are you looking for?” Franklin asked, still curious.
    “A way to shut your hole,” Darryl complained. He glared at
Franklin, who grinned at him. “This was what it was like, wasn’t it, when we
found out about your gift? Us asking about it all the time?”
    “Maybe,” Franklin said, rocking back on his heels,
delighted. “You know what they say about payback.”
    “That he’s a bitch about to get his ass kicked? Yeah, I
heard that,” Darryl said, sounding mean.
    Franklin didn’t care. It still felt good to get back at
Darryl for all those years of teasing.
    Out behind Lexine’s house, the trees had been cut back
further, giving Lexine a place for a garden. Franklin was going to have to come
out and tend it once a week or so, until they’d settled what they was gonna do
with her place. Tall okra plants grew along one side, standing like prickly
guards. Lexine’s purple and red heirloom tomatoes needed harvesting. The yellow
and green striped squashes were nearly ripe as well. Franklin didn’t know what
to do with all her herbs—sage, oregano, rosemary, thyme, basil, and
others. Maybe he could dry ’em out, like Lexine had, and sell ’em in town.
    Darryl scouted from the cabin to Lexine’s garden, then back
again, then out, walking in wider circles, always examining the earth, looking
for some footprint or clue or the hint of a trail. He reminded Franklin of a
hound trying to catch a scent.
    At the edge of the woods, where the path started, Darryl
called Franklin over. “Something came through here recently. It was big, moving
fast. See this broken twig?”
    Franklin winced. That damage had probably been caused by
him, leaving with his bike. “Ghosts don’t generally go through things, or along
paths. They just disappear and reappear.”
    “Something went this way. Come on. It’s as good a place to
start as any.”
    “You know this path leads back to the main road, right?”
Franklin called after Darryl as he hurried along, the bushes slapping at his
legs. At least this time Franklin was better prepared, wearing thick jeans and
boots.
    “Yeah,” Darryl said, unerringly turning where Franklin had
turned, taking the same trail. “So maybe it isn’t some kind of spirit we’re
hunting. Maybe it had some human help.”
    “Okay,” Franklin said, though he knew it wasn’t the case. If
anything, the spirit had had ghostly help, from Gloria.
    Were Gloria and the spirit connected? If so, what connected
them? How were they connected? They’d both shown up at about the same time. . .
.
    Darryl stopped just before they took the final left to the
highway. Sunlight filtered down through the pines above them. The air felt
still and thick. He swung his head to the right and the left, his back hunched,
like a left guard about to make a flying tackle. He held up his hand and kept
looking