Free Infinity House by Shane McKenzie Page A

head, waving it around as he entered.
    Mike jumped to his feet, put his hands out in surrender. “Don’t hurt him. Please don’t…”
    The Mexican snatched the bills from James’s hand.
    “Hey, that’s mine.” James swiped for it.
    “Chill out, James. Shut your mouth.” Mike kept his eyes on the Mexican as he spoke. “All right, man. You got everything, now go.”
    James crossed his arms, stuck out his lips. A tear slid down his face, then a matching one from the other side.
    Where the hell did he get that money, Mike thought. What did he get into?
    The Mexican pointed the shotgun at James, smiled. “Don’t think I don’t know you still got my fifty in your pocket, motherfucker. But you can keep it. My treat.” He backed out the door and disappeared into the night.
    Mike shot for the couch, grabbed his piece, burst through the screen door with the pistol out in front of him. He checked left and right, but didn’t see the guy.
    “Fuck!” He walked back in, slammed the door, locked it. He slid down the wood and crumpled on the floor. His elbows rested on his knees and his head hung like his neck had been broken. Grandmamma had another coughing fit; they were getting worse each day. Mike knew it was only a matter of time before she was gone.
    “What’s going on, Mike?” James said.
    Mike sniffled, wiped the snot away with his forearm. “He took everything.”
    “What happened?”
    “He fuckin’ took everything, all right? We ain’t got shit.” He slammed his knuckles into the floor.
    James tiptoed toward Mike, plopped down next to him. “Can I tell you something?”
    Mike wiped his tears away, took a deep breath. “You better. Where the fuck you get that money?”
    “Don’t get mad, okay?” James looked into his lap, fondled a loose string on his jeans.
    “What’d you do, fool?” Mike’s temples throbbed and he dug his thumbs into them, closed his eyes.
    “I found it. I didn’t do nothing.”
    Mike rolled his eyes open and James was staring at him. When their eyes met, James dropped his gaze to the floor.
    “Look, fool. I’m havin’ a shitty night,” Mike said. “Spit it the fuck out.”
    “I found it at… at the house.”
    Mike frowned, sat up straighter. “I know you ain’t talkin’ about—”
    “I just wanted to see it. You’ve never let me see it.” James was on his feet now. His buck teeth pushed past his lips and his mouth hung open.
    “That’s because you ain’t supposed to be over there. Mama said—”
    “I know, it’s haunted,” James said. His eyes went from the floor to Mike’s face. “Do you think it’s really haunted?”
    Mike thought back to all the times Mama forbade him from going there. Said it was pure evil, that the devil lived there. Grandmamma did too, back when she could still think straight. Hell, everybody in the Oak knew to stay away from it.
    Mike stood up, walked past James until he was plopped down in the couch. He reached for the blunt roach balancing on his ashtray, lit it. “No, I don’t think it’s haunted.” He held the smoke in, let the high wash over him. “But some shit went down in that house for real.”
    James sat next to Mike, wrinkled his nose as a plume of smoke filled the air. He dug something out of his pocket, looked at it in his cupped hands, then tossed it into Mike’s lap.
    The weight knocked against Mike’s balls; he flinched, dropped the roach from his lips. “What the fuck is your pr—”
    “I found that under the money. In the front yard, buried.”
    Mike picked up the diamond necklace, wiped the coating of drool from his lower lip. A spiral of smoke twisted from the couch, and Mike brushed the roach onto the floor, stomped it out. “You found this…at the house?”
    “Yep. You think there could be more?”
    Don’t you do it, boy. Remember what I told you. Keep him safe, Mike.
    But he knew Mama would understand. The stories about the house were… just stories. Everyone around the Oak believed them, but