15 Sep The Flytrap Drugstore

Past lush green forests and misty valley
At the end of a long winter’s chill
The Salesman conducts his grand finale
In the town of Diona Hills. 

Four will be one, and one finds demise
By him who is called oblivion.
Come closer, and hear of our grand reprise
In the place that fell to delirium.

* * * * * *

In the early evening hours, there came a distant staccato of well-worn sneakers on concrete. Down shadowy canals they chased and fled from an unseen pursuer, laughing the entire time. Whether the devil was chasing them or they were chasing the devil, they would never figure out. The cause of the game wasn’t important. The purpose wasn’t important. Those four kids lit fires in the soles of their shoes as they raced each other down the cold, sparse streets of downtown Diona Hills.

People called it downtown, but it was little more than a tiny town square surrounded by a city hall, the local library, and some mom and pop stores surviving off their last dimes. A few cars meandered around, searching for parking at the tail end of the business day. A rugged red Camry inched to a crawl at the lone red light. Katherine exploded out of the bushes and shot straight across the intersection as the light turned green.

“Last one there sucks eggs,” she yelled behind her back. The driver leaned on her horn just as Hermes bounded in pursuit. He was dressed in a technicolor yawn of an outfit: kaleidoscope t-shirt, bright blue parka, and lime green pants. Heaven only knew what self-respecting parents would let their kid out of the house wearing that.

“First one there gets to be King,” he shouted back.

“Or Queen,” Katherine said.

The car lurched forward, the woman inside shaking her head. Marie came careening out from the bushes, saw the car in time, and made a wide arc around the back. The driver never noticed her.

“Guys, don’t get run over,” she said. Her warning fell on deaf ears, save for one person. Cyrus was the last to come jogging out from the bushes next to the creek.

“I keep telling ‘em not to,” she said.

Cyrus stooped and gasped for air. “Serves them right, but now they’re gonna beat us. Wanna take a shortcut?” Without waiting for a response, he caught his breath and ran down an adjacent street. Marie followed. They weaved through two skinny alleys, vaulted over the dumpster behind Deno’s Diner, and shimmied their way across a handful of unstable sewer grates. They made it to the big oak tree next to Gerald’s Bridge, their de facto finish line. Neither Katherine nor Hermes were there yet. Both Cyrus and Marie slumped underneath the tree, its shade providing hardly a speck of reprieve on the already gray, gloomy day.

Marie tried to talk in between lungfuls of air. “Where… where do you… think… they are?” As if to answer her question, their two missing party members came sprinting around the corner of Steele and Quicksilver.

Cyrus pointed to them with a prideful finger. “You two are the losers!”

Neither of them were fazed by the declaration of defeat. Hermes came closer. “Race doesn’t count,” he said.

Cyrus’s mouth dropped. “Whaddya mean the race doesn’t count?”

Katherine smiled widely. A big, cheshire smile. “We found something.”

* * * * * *

A grimy red brick building, surrounded on both sides by abandoned lots and failed businesses. A shiny black awning hung over the walk path, affixed above it was the name of the place: “Flytrap Drugstore”, in big neon green capital letters.

Cyrus and Marie had followed Hermes and Katherine back the way they came and were brought to this odd store. A sense of unease flowed from the storefront. It was too out of place. Nobody new was moving into town, much less to build a business. Not even the big fast food franchises want to set up shop in Diona Hills. If you wanted to get a greasy hamburger, you’d have to drive five miles east to Pleasantville. If there’d been word of a new shop opening up in town, the four of them would have heard of it. It didn’t give Cyrus a good feeling.

Hot breath brushed the side of his ear and he jumped. “Dare you to go inside,” Katherine said, standing uncomfortably close to Cyrus.

“Ladies first,” said Cyrus.

“Right, so you’ve got dibs,” she said.

Hermes stepped in front of the gang. “We’re all going in at the same time.”

Marie stuck her hands on her hips. “And what do you plan on buying in there? None of us have any money.”

Hermes just looked at Katherine and smiled, the kind of smile that would send anyone running for the hills, because this kid was up to no good, and the other three knew it. Katherine grinned back. “Let’s make up for the race,” she said, “since it doesn’t count anymore.”

“You’re just saying that because you lost,” Marie complained.

“Forget about the race,” Katherine said. “How about this: we all go inside together, just like Hermes said. Then everyone takes one thing from the store.”

Cyrus was stunned. “You mean you want us to steal?”

Katherine shot him a look. “Say it louder next time, Cy. I don’t think the other half of town heard you clearly enough.”

Hermes jumped back to where she left off. “We get ten minutes to grab something and get out. Whoever has the most expensive thing gets to be King.”

“Or Queen,” said Katherine.

“Or King,” he emphasized. “Cuz I’m not losing.”

Marie stepped forward. “And it can only be one thing?”

Cyrus looked at her, gobsmacked. “You’re going along with this?”

Marie shrugged. “Sounds like fun.”

“So does a root canal and a night in the slammer.”

“It can only be one thing,” Hermes said. “It can be a pack of stuff as long as it’s under one price tag.” He took out his phone. “Take a picture of it and the price so we don’t have any cheaters.” He looked at Katherine as he said this.

“I can’t believe you guys,” Cyrus said. “We’re gonna be hardened criminals before middle school.”

Hermes laughed and stepped closer to him, his voice lower and more direct. “You in or what?”

Cyrus looked over his shoulder to the double glass doors leading inside. The store certainly didn’t look busy. He didn’t see a single soul inside. Aisles of color dotted his tunneled view. He glared back at his friend.

“What do we do if one of us gets caught?”

Hermes’s smile widened. “We do what we always do. Run.”

* * * * * *

Hermes explained to his friends how going in as a group would attract too much attention. He set a timer on his phone for ten minutes, then entered the store. After waiting a minute, Katherine followed. Then Marie. Finally, Cyrus. Inside looked like any regular drugstore: oppressively bright lights buzzed overhead, aisles of vibrantly-colored capsules, boxes, small containers, and tubes popped out from the shelves. A lone employee dressed in a dark green apron was stationed behind the prescription desk on the far side. He was sitting on an elevated stool, reading a copy of Paradise Lost. Cyrus couldn’t see his other three friends. They were probably scouring the aisles, trying to find the easiest and most expensive thing to swipe.

Cyrus went up to the desk. His plan was risky, but if it worked, his strategy could help him win the game. “Are you the only one here?” he asked the worker. The guy looked to be in his mid-twenties, probably fresh out of college, waiting for a big-time company to pick up his resume and get him out of this dead-end town.

The man put his book down, marking it with one slender finger. Cyrus got a good look at his face, which was long and fair, with nice features. His eyes were a brilliant blue, and his blonde hair swept down to his shoulders. His beard was well-trimmed, circling the sides of his jaw and connecting to a thin mustache. He smiled. “Just me, kiddo. You need anything?”

Cyrus settled into his routine by returning the smile. “Yeah. Do you have any of those huge Pez dispensers? Not the regular pocket-sized ones, but the big collectible ones.”

“We might have some in stock.” The man glanced down the store and pointed to the aisles on the right. “Go down that way. Aisle six. Should be somewhere in the middle.”

Cyrus’s eyes followed his thin, bony finger. He thanked him and walked that way. Near the sixth aisle was a big display of prescription glasses. He went down the aisle and saw Marie poring over the prices. He snuck up behind her.

“Find anything yet?” he whispered.

Marie gave him a shove. “Not yet,” she said.

“Clock’s ticking,” he teased.

Marie stuck her tongue out and went around to the next aisle. Cyrus grabbed a Pez dispenser with the head of Captain America, then doubled back. He knew what he was going to swipe the whole time. He scanned the walls and ceiling for security cameras, and after ensuring that the lone cashier wasn’t looking, he cycled through the display until he found the most expensive pair of glasses he could find. He took them and stuffed them underneath his jacket.

He felt a rush of excitement, the kind of rush only found in the steep drop of a roller coaster or snooping around late on Christmas Eve to see if Santa was real. The thrill persisted since he wasn’t out of the woods yet. He was about to sneak his prize under the nose of that poor, unsuspecting employee.

He waltzed up to the desk and plopped the candy dispenser onto the counter. The man scanned them and said, “That’ll be $13.34.”

Cyrus pulled out a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket. His heart was the wings of a hummingbird, and he flew with the anticipation of pulling a fast one on a complete stranger. If it hadn’t been for something the cashier said next, Cyrus would have continued to fly that high for the rest of the day.

“All purchases are final,” the man said. He put the change in Cyrus’s small hands, and he placed the goods into a small brown bag. The man reached out his hand to give it to him. Cyrus grabbed the bag, but the man hadn’t let go. He tugged at it, confused. The adrenaline was starting to seep out of his pores.

“Um…” Cyrus said, “can I have my stuff now?”

The cashier stood up and stretched his thin body across the small desk. Up close, there was something off about him, but Cyrus couldn’t tell what exactly. Something about how it seemed like he eclipsed the blinding lights above or how the tiny red glint of his nametag bloomed underneath his face, giving it a haunting complexion.

“All purchases are final,” he repeated. “No returns.”

Cyrus fell off his cloud. He no longer felt the thrill of getting away with petty shoplifting. He felt eyes crawl across the nape of his neck. He felt like a phantom mark was being placed upon his head. “I… I understand,” he gulped.

“Whatever you take, you keep,” the man whispered, like an oracle recanting a bad omen to the people of an ancient village. “Just make sure you don’t break it.”

The man let the tiny bag go, and Cyrus nearly dropped it. His hands shook terribly. His eyes were wide, filled with potent fear. Suddenly, the spell broke and the store returned to normal. The man sat back on his stool and reopened the book as if nothing strange had happened. “Company policy.” The man smiled through his eyes. “You understand, right?”

Cyrus nodded; he couldn’t even muster the courage to say anything. There was something wrong with the atmosphere. The air was too thick, and the taste of electricity coated the back of his tongue. He walked quickly to the exit, threw open the double glass doors, and stepped into the cloudy day. The cashier stared from his desk, a finger delicately holding his book open.

* * * * * *

Hermes threw his hands up in triumph. “I’m the King, I’m the King!” he chanted. They had all made it back to Gerald’s Bridge with their spoils. No one had even been close to getting themselves caught, save for Cyrus’s little scare with the cashier. They presented and passed around their goods. Katherine had stolen an asthma inhaler. Hermes had taken a titanium neti pot. And somehow, Marie had been able to get into a cabinet and swipe a pack of shaving razors.

“My cousin taught me to pick a lock last summer,” she had said.

They each shared their photos. Cyrus hadn’t needed to take one since the price tag was still on the glasses, and even though Katherine argued that was technically against the rules, Hermes and Marie vetoed her, saying that the tag was still attached and was evidence enough. Besides, none of it mattered since Hermes’s neti pot had won by more than a forty-dollar margin.

“Where did you even find that?” Marie asked. “I didn’t see anything like it.”

“There were a few near the back corner, right next to the magazine rack,” said Hermes. His face was alight with victory, and his expression gleamed with the same sickeningly sweet look a child has when they have a terrible secret they want to share.

“Well, we may have a winner,” Katherine said, “but we also have one big loser.” She pointed to Cyrus. When he had met up with them and told them his “expert” strategy to throw off the cashier by buying something, they all laughed.

“Man, I thought if anyone was gonna get caught, it’d be Hermes,” Cyrus said, gesturing to his friend’s ridiculous outfit.

Hermes looked down at his kaleidoscope shirt, blue parka, and lime green pants. “It’s called ‘fashion’, honey,” he said. “Look it up. Besides, I was never gonna get caught cuz there weren’t any cameras or anything. There wasn’t even anyone working the store.”

“I was never gonna get caught either,” said Katherine, “it’s like Cyrus was trying to lose on purpose. What, did you slap some money on the counter to offset your bad karma?”

Cyrus’s face flushed with embarrassment and frustration. “How could you miss him? He was standing behind the pharmacy desk.”

“I saw him,” Marie offered. “He was reading something, and he didn’t even look up when I went in.”

Hermes kept laughing. “Are you sure you didn’t imagine him? You guys are crazy. I didn’t see anyone at the desk when I went in.”

“Then who was running it?” Cyrus asked.

“Maybe they were in the back,” Katherine said.

“No way,” said Marie, “I’m telling you guys, Cyrus isn’t crazy. There was a guy–”

“I say there wasn’t,” Hermes said, “and as King, my first order is that we all agree that I’m right and my word is final.” They all agreed, Cyrus and Marie did so begrudgingly. “And my next order is to decree that Cyrus is an idiot for buying something he didn’t need to.”

“Hey!” Cyrus shouted. He brandished his Pez dispenser like a fencing sword. “I got this so that the cashier guy, who was definitely real, wouldn’t suspect anything.”

“Is that right?” said Hermes. “Then, as my third order, give me some of your Pez.”

“Not gonna happen. I paid for this.”

“Okay. As King, give me all of it.”

“What? No!”

“Then let’s compromise. Give me half.”

After Cyrus unwillingly parted with half his sweets, Hermes ordered the other three to carry him up the hill to the lookout point. Cyrus, Katherine, and Marie struggled as they walked up the steep streets on the outskirts of Diona Hills. They carried their friend up the sidewalk past countless fir trees, deep dirt slopes, and winding trails. By the time they made it all the way up to the beautiful overlook at the top of Pandemon hill, night was starting to fall on the small, secluded town. From the lookout point, the four kids could lean against the sturdy stone wall and see the large ocean of lush green forest. Tops of rolling hills poked out around a lowly hanging fog that seeped down from dark clouds. The town was surrounded by lofty hills like a bowl of green lettuce with wet gray splattered in the middle for dressing.

The not-so-merry court of Hermes dropped their King unceremoniously to the ground. He popped back up and stood proudly by the stone wall, looking down upon the valley as it was swallowed by the ember twilight. “Take a look, my loyal subjects,” the King said, sweeping his royal arms outward. “Everything the light touches is my kingdom.”

“Yeah, for the next hour maybe,” Katherine wheezed. She had taken the front position in their game of calvary and had to bear most of her friend’s weight. “Then I get to assassinate you and build a democracy from the ruins. I’ll be the first lady president, and I’ll treat my people with respect and benevolence.”

“Can you even spell ‘benevolence’?” Cyrus said. Katherine jabbed him between the ribs.

“Then I’ll have to make the most of it,” said Hermes. He pointed to Marie. “Marie! Sing for me, my muse!”

Marie gave a military salute. “I shall perform the song of the people,” she said, then began to sing the Soviet national anthem. “Soiuz nerushimyj respublik svobodnykh / Splotila naveki Velikaia Rus…”

“Silence!” Hermes bellowed, his prepubescent squeal swooping down the dropoff. “I sentence you to death, you communist pig!” He pointed to Cyrus, who was nearby. “Cy, be my executioner. Take thine holy Excalibur,” he lifted the long Pez dispenser in his friend’s hands, “and smite this traitorous woman.”

“Aye, m’lord,” Cyrus said with a terrible Cockney accent. “First I’ll need me monocles to make a pro’er crop o’ her.” He pulled the stolen glasses from his jacket, put them on, and let out a horrendous scream.

He scratched at his eyes, pulling the glasses away from his face and threw them to the ground. His face was a flushed pale pallor. He leaned against the stone outcropping, desperately rubbing his eyes. The other three stood by in awkward silence.

Marie went up to him. “What happened? Did you poke your eye out or something?” Cyrus shuffled away from her.

“I… It wasn’t that, I… I saw…”

Hermes bent down and picked up the dropped glasses. “Don’t break these. They’re a really nice pair.”

Cyrus lunged and grabbed Hermes by the arm. “Don’t put them on!” he warned.

“Why? What’s wrong with them?” said Hermes.

“Yeah,” Katherine added, “did they mess up your eyes?”

“Yes,” Cyrus said. “No. I mean, I don’t know how to explain it. They’re just… they’re messed up.”

“Whaddya mean ‘messed up’?” Katherine asked.

“They showed me something,” Cyrus said.

“You mean you saw something?” said Marie.

Cyrus slowly turned his head to look at her. His eyes were vacant and wandering, as if he was looking past her. “No, they showed me something. They showed me you,” he pointed at Marie.

Katherine scoffed. “No scheisse, genius. You were looking right at her when you put them on.”

Cyrus shook his head vehemently, like he was trying to get rid of a headache. “No, no. It was different. It looked like…” he stumbled over his words. “God, it was awful.”

Marie put her hands on her hips. “I’m not that bad looking, Cy.”

Cyrus looked straight into her eyes. “You were melting.”

“I was what?”

Hermes let out a light laugh to calm the air, but it wasn’t convincing. “You’re really on something today, ain’t you, Cy? First, you’re seeing mysterious people, and now you’re starting to hallucinate. If they ever put you in the funny house, I’ll make sure to visit you once a month.”

“I’m being serious,” Cyrus said. “It looked like Marie was melting into this big red mess on the ground. It could see her guts and brains spill out and slip away down the hill.”

“That’s disgusting,” said Katherine. She snatched the glasses out of Hermes’s hands. “There’s always a trick to these things. Lemme take a look.”

“No, Kat, don’t!” Cyrus was too far away to stop her. She put on the glasses. They waited. She didn’t show any visible reactions at first.

“Wow,” she said, genuinely astonished. She was looking at Hermes. “These are weird.”

“What do you see?” he asked. “Am I melting too?”

There was a mix of confusion and bewilderment on Katherine’s face. “Are your eyes open or closed right now?” she asked.

Hermes looked at both Cyrus and Marie, eyes clearly open. His face said “Yeah, duh” all over it. Then he turned back to Katherine. “Yeah, duh,” he said.

“You sure? Because with these,” she tapped the glasses, “it looks like you have your eyes closed and your face is all puffed up.”

“Puffed up?”

“Yeah, like you got stung by a bunch of bees or something.”

“Weird,” Hermes walked over to her. “Let me try them on,” he said, plucking the glasses from his friend’s face.

“Hey! I wasn’t done with them yet.”

“I’m the King and I want to try them.” He thrust them onto the bridge of his nose and adjusted the wires. Then he looked at Cyrus. He put his thumb and forefinger around his chin, like he was admiring a modern art piece at a museum.

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” he said. He looked at Marie. “You look like you’ve got a haircut from Freddie Krueger. And you…” He looked at Katherine and paused. She crossed her arms defiantly.

“What?” she demanded. “What do I look like?”

Hermes shrugged. “More or less the same. But you look like you haven’t slept in days, and you’re flipping me the bird.”

“I can give you two if you want.” She let her birds fly.

Cyrus took back the glasses. “I’m putting these away.” He stuffed them deep into his jacket.

“Can I try them on?” said Marie.

“Maybe later. Depends on if you’ve melted or not,” Cyrus said. “Either way, I just don’t have a good feeling about them.”

“Well, I think they’re cool,” Hermes said. He put an arm around Cyrus’s neck. “Listen here, kid, we can make a huge racket with this new-fangled thing of yours. What say we bring ‘em to school with us and charge people to wear ‘em?”

Cyrus wasn’t crazy about the idea. “There’s just something… off about them, I guess. I dunno the right word for it. Creepy? Strange? They’re not right.”

“Speaking of strange,” Katherine said, “how did we not notice this before?” She held up her box with the asthma inhaler. The other three huddled around to get a better look.

“Where are we supposed to be looking?” Marie asked.

“Look at the description,” Katherine pointed to the top of the label. “I thought it said ‘asthma’ before, but check this out.” She slowly traced her finger along the words Amnesia Medicine.

Hermes took the box and held it closer. “What the hell is this thing?”

“Didn’t it say ‘asthma’ when we were passing it around?” said Marie.

“That’s what I’m telling you guys,” Katherine said. “I could’ve sworn that’s what it said, but either we all read it wrong or it’s been changed.”

Cyrus shivered. “What do you think it does?” he asked.

“How should I know?” Katherine said.

“You wanna find out?” Hermes said. He fingered the top of the small box, trying to pry it open.

“No way, you’re crazy!” said Katherine, but something about her face told the others that she was genuinely curious.

“Cut it out, Hermes,” Cyrus insisted. “This isn’t funny anymore.”

“You’re right. It’s hilarious,” he said. “We went into some bum corner store in the middle of town and accidentally stole a bunch of gag gifts.” He stopped trying to get it open, a look of epiphany shot across his face. “Ooh, that reminds me.” He thrust the box back into Katherine’s hands and fumbled around in his pockets. He pulled out his neti pot and twisted it around in his grasp, studying it intensely. “I wonder if this has something weird on it, too.”

Marie stepped closer to get a better look. “What’s it supposed to do anyway?”

“You’ve never seen one before?” Katherine joined the small semicircle. “My mom uses one all the time, although this doesn’t look anything like the one she uses. Hers is plastic. Here, let me show you.” She held out a hand, and Hermes gingerly gave it to her.

“Don’t break it. It’s the King’s most prized possession.”

“You should find better possessions.” Katherine tilted her head nearly ninety degrees to the side. The veins in her small neck bulged like worms in soil. “You lean your head to the side, stick the spout in the top nostril, and you let it drain out the other.” She demonstrated for her friends. “It’s supposed to get rid of all the mucus and garbage in your nose.”

“That sounds awful,” Cyrus said.

“Agreed,” said Hermes. “Let’s try it out.” They found a water fountain nearby and filled the pot all the way to the rim.

“You don’t need that much,” Katherine chastised. “It’s gonna spill out when you tip it.” Hermes poured some out from the top, then leaned his head as far as he could to the side and put the spout up to his nose.

“What do I do now?” he asked.

“Just start tipping it gently,” Katherine said. “Don’t make it go too fast and don’t breathe it in, or you could technically drown.”

Cyrus watched on with baited breath as his friend steadied the heavy titanium pot and tipped it carefully forward. He was certain he was about to see something horrible unfold in front of his eyes.

“Oh, this does f–” Hermes started. With a yelp, he dropped the neti pot and nearly retched. He coughed furiously and rubbed his nose, blowing it over and over again. Great messy clumps flung in all directions.

Katherine laughed at his pain. “It takes some getting used to. That’s what my mom says.”

Hermes blew his nose into his sleeves. His bright blue parka now had a dark stain near the elbow. “Ig burn’d sho bad.”

Marie picked up the neti pot from the grass and inspected it. “It’s just water. I wouldn’t think it’d be that bad.”

“Noh,” Hermes uttered, sounding like a congested elephant. “It not nat, you guys. My node id on fire.”

“You guys, look.” Cyrus pointed to the ground next to Hermes’s feet. He had spilled something onto the gray cobblestone, and it was running in rivulets down the slope. It was dark with pinpricks of bubbles floating on the surface. “That doesn’t look like water to me,” said Cyrus.

Marie opened up the lid and checked inside. “It looks like water in here,” she concluded.

Katherine swiped the pot from her and poured some onto her fingers. Dark brown liquid came out the spout. She sniffed it, then licked her fingers.

“Ew, Kat,” Hermes said. “Nat wad id my node.”

“Yeah, it could’ve been poison or something,” Cyrus said.

“But it’s not,” said Katherine. “Tastes like pop.” She poured out the rest, and true to her word a long stream of soda splattered onto the walking path.

“That’s gotta be a trick of some kind,” said Marie. “There was probably some cola in there beforehand and it’s been stashed in a false bottom, like those trick cups at magic shops.”

Katherine took the lid off and felt around with her small hand. “I don’t think so. It looks like a regular ol’ neti pot to me.” She tried looking right into the spout. “I don’t see anything wrong with it.”

“Then how–” Cyrus sputtered. He was overwhelmed. This felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. Why didn’t anyone else seem to notice? Why weren’t they saying anything? First, the glasses that warped your features, then an asthma can, but for “amnesia” – whatever that meant – and now they had a magical teapot that gave you soda when you put water into it. Nothing about this made any sense.

“How did it make the water disappear?” Marie finished Cyrus’s thought out loud.

“Maybe it didn’t make it disappear,” said Katherine. “What if it was changed?”

“How do we find out?” Cyrus asked.

Katherine put the lid back on and started walking toward the water fountain. “We refill it and see what happens.”

“Yeah, well, somebody else gets to stick it up their nose,” Hermes gasped, still trying to clear up his poor nose. “You couldn’t pay me to do that again.”

“We’re gonna pour it out on the plants, doofus!” Katherine yelled behind her back. She filled the pot again and came trotting back over to the stone wall. Just over the wall, there lay a bunch of small bushes and shrubbery for a foot or two before the hill sloped steeply down. The other three crowded around her as she held the pot carefully and tipped it forward over the chest-high wall. Nothing happened. Then a golden yellow string oozed from the spout, drizzling onto the small leaves in a continuous stream. As it landed on the bush, it clumped together and stuck to the plant, folding on itself several times before collapsing under its own weight. The four friends stared in awe, mouths agape.

“No way!” Katherine spouted. She stuck a finger under the sticky substance and brought it close to her eyes, leading the yellow stream with her like webbing from a spider. “This can’t be what I think it is.” She popped it into her mouth, and her eyes widened with pleasure. “It is!”

“What is it? What is it?” Hermes insisted.

“It’s honey!”

They spent the next half hour playing with the neti pot. Each time they poured out all the water and refilled it, something else came out the spout. Orange juice, seltzer, grape soda, chocolate milk, maple syrup, green tea, pickle juice, coffee, and even some thicker stuff like yogurt and mustard. Before they knew it, the sun had disappeared beneath the faraway clouds, and darkness came sweeping across the land like an apocalyptic horseman. Distant streetlights were illuminated, and the small town below turned into a glittering swarm of fireflies. That feeling of unease never left Cyrus. The floaty voice of the devilishly smart cashier kept buzzing in his ears.

“All purchases are final. No returns.”
“Whatever you take, you keep.”

The more time he spent up here, watching his friends mess around with things they knew nothing about, the sicker his stomach turned. He finally decided to speak up. “Guys, it’s really late. Our parents will want us back home.”

Hermes slid the lid back onto the pot after he had just finished spilling red salsa on a small sapling. He got up. “Wow, yeah. It got dark really fast. Let’s get going.” They gathered all their stuff and walked down the hill. They had parked their bikes a half mile down the river from Gerald’s Bridge before their race around town. Katherine and Hermes got on theirs and rode off in different directions. Cyrus walked his next to Marie. Their houses were in the same direction. They were both silent for a few blocks, then Cyrus decided to speak. “You saw the guy. In the drugstore, right?”

Marie nodded slowly. “I did. I swear I did. I don’t know what Hermes and Kat were talking about. He was right there.”

“They made us think we were crazy,” Cyrus frowned.

“I didn’t have the courage to look his way when I was running around the store,” she said. “I was glad he was too busy reading that magazine to pay much attention to me.”

Cyrus stopped. “He was reading a magazine?”

“Yeah.” She paused and turned back. “He was. Why?”

“He was reading a book when I went in.”

Marie frowned, her eyebrows furrowed. “I could’ve sworn he was reading a magazine. I don’t know which one, but it had a skull on the cover, but not a human one. It had horns, like a goat or something.”

She kept walking. Cyrus ran to catch up with her. “Do you still have your stuff? The thing you swiped?” he said.

Marie fumbled around in her pockets and pulled out the pack of razors. “You mean this?” she said.

“Yeah. Is there anything… I don’t know, weird about them?”

“I dunno. I was looking at them earlier. They don’t have a brand name. All it says is ‘Super Strength Razors’, but that’s about it. Nothing else out of the ordinary.”

“Uh-huh,” Cyrus said.

“Speaking of, can I see your glasses now?” she asked.

Cyrus flinched. He clutched the small pouch inside his jacket. “No. Not right now. Maybe tomorrow, okay?”

Marie stared blankly into his frightened eyes. She didn’t look disappointed or sad. She looked… concerned. “Was it the thing you saw? About me, y’know… melting?”

Cyrus let out a shaky sigh. “It’s not just that. It’s everything else, too. I’ve been having a bad feeling about the stuff we took, but I don’t know what it is. It’s all…” he scrambled around for the word he was looking for.

“Unnatural?” Marie suggested.

Cyrus laughed without a hint of humor in his voice. “Unnatural! Yeah, it’s all unnatural. It’s all just a big, stupid mistake, and we should’ve never gone through with it. It’s like we’re being watched or something. It’s like we’re being strung like puppets in a show, and it’s too dark to see who’s in the audience. It’s almost like… like…”

“Cy, you’re scaring me.”

“Sorry,” he murmured, and in his mind there was the cashier’s voice again.

“Whatever you take, you keep.”

“The guy who was working there, he sai—” He cut himself off. He didn’t want Marie to be more scared or think he was crazy.

“What?” she said. “What did he do?”

Cyrus gave her a small smile. “Nothing. I was gonna say he looked like an aryan Jesus.” There was a time and a place for everything, and Cyrus promised himself that he would tell her some other time. Yeah, some other time.

* * * * * *

Later that night, when Cyrus’s phone rang at half past nine, he knew there’d be trouble. When he had gotten home, his mother met him at the door, asking where he’d been and why he wasn’t responding to her calls. He told her he was with friends at the lookout and he’d lost track of time. She shook her head and told him dinner was already done and sitting at the table. He wasn’t able to eat much at the table. His mind was occupied by the Flytrap Drugstore, and his heart was heavy with the thought of the glasses and what he saw through them. His friends hadn’t taken him seriously at all – even though Hermes and Katherine saw for themselves what the glasses could show – and he was still disturbed by the image of Marie’s body melting pink red Play-Doh. He had run upstairs and hid the glasses in the bottom of his sock drawer, nearly positive no one, not even his doting mother, would find them. After dinner, he had quietly rinsed his dishes and breezed up the stairs to his room, where he locked his door and cooped himself in his bed, playing music and reading The Boxcar Children for a book report. He had just finished a chapter when the music on his phone abruptly stopped. It was a call from Marie. He answered it.

“Hey, did you get home okay?” he said.

A ragged breathing on the other end found his ear. It was Marie, Cyrus was sure of it, but it sounded like she was on the verge of crying her eyes out.

“Cy?” Marie said. He winced, her voice cracking through the small silence like a gunshot. “Did Kat call you?”

He sat up in his bed, feet dangling off the side of the boxspring. “No,” he said. “Why, what’s going on?”

A gasp of air on the other side, like when Cyrus would pump up the tires on his bike, and the needle made a sharp hiss when he unscrewed the cap. “It’s bad, Cy. It’s really bad.”

He stood up and paced around his room. He knew something was going to come up, something to do with the things they swiped. All he could do was wait for the guillotine to fall and for Marie to give him the bad news. “What happened? Is Kat okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, Kat’s fine. She just called me.” Another sharp, wet inhale. “It’s her younger brother. They had to rush him to the hospital.”

Cyrus slumped back on the bed, the feeling of a heavy burden lifted from his shoulders. He felt guilty that he was relieved something happened to her brother rather than Katherine herself, but he knew the other shoe hadn’t dropped yet. His mind kept imagining the bright lights above the Flytrap Drugstore. “What happened to him? What’s going on?”

“I’ll have to explain later,” Marie said. Her breathing had evened out, but Cyrus could almost hear the teardrops rolling down her cheeks and falling off her chin. She told Cyrus to meet her and Katherine by the coffee shop next to the general hospital. Then she hung up. He rushed around his room, grabbing his jacket, keys, bike light, and, after some hesitation, he wrenched open his sock drawer and pulled out the glasses. After throwing on his shoes, he pounded down the stairs and out the front door. He yelled to his mom, telling her he was going out and that he’d be back soon, but she was too busy cradling a wine cooler and watching Jeopardy! to notice.

He got on his bike and started flying down the dimly lit streets. The rustic orange glow of the streetlamps poured down onto the asphalt, guiding his way through the myriad of interwoven streets. He knew the general direction; the hospital was right next to the community center. He took a right off of Pride Drive onto North Vee Street. Then a left onto Glue Tony Avenue and shortly he took another left onto General Reed Boulevard, blazing through the two-way stop. He rode that way for a mile, then turned right onto Lus Road. Down a hill and past Sloth Court, he turned right onto West Rathe Lane, and there, on his right, was the general hospital.

Neon blue lights littered the parking lot. Half of the lot was overtaken by several rows of sturdy awnings that held solar panels. A giant red cross was plastered against the side of the three-story building. The coffee shop, teeny tiny in comparison, stood next to the hospital. It was closed for the day. Marie and Katherine sat at a table outside. They both looked like they hadn’t slept in days, even though Cyrus had just seen them a few hours ago. Their faces were hanging, slack-jawed, in a frozen shock. They slowly got up when they saw Cyrus sweep into the parking lot and lock his bike.

“Hiya, Cy,” Marie said.

“Hey, guys.” He looked at Katherine. Her expression was sunken, a sallow shell of the usually boisterous girl he was accustomed to. He didn’t like the way her eyes bulged or how the lines under them held the ghost of tears, but above all, he especially hated the way she was uncharacteristically quiet. “What happened, Kat?” he asked.

She cocked her head and held up her middle finger. “I’m doing fine, thanks for asking, you dummy.” Cyrus smiled on the inside. There was the real Katherine. She dropped her hand. “I’ve done something terrible,” she whispered.

Slowly, Katherine explained to her friends what had happened after she had left and went home. “I was still pretty pissed that I lost the game, and we didn’t really do much with the inhaler. So, I wanted to play a prank on my brother, Adorée. He’s three years younger than me and as gullible as a lemming. He’s got asthma, which was probably why I took the inhaler in the first place. Mom was always complaining how expensive they could be, and with dad getting laid off…” she paused, looking at the ground. “Anyway, I switched his inhaler with the amnesia one, just to see what would happen. I figured it’d be like short-term memory loss, something simple like forgetting why he walked into a room or wondering what he ate for breakfast. But I didn’t think it’d be this bad. I put the amnesia inhaler on his nightstand and hid behind his door to scare him. When he went into his room, I jumped out and tackled him. That’s when he had a really bad attack. He couldn’t even get off the ground, and he kept asking me to pass his inhaler. But I kept teasing him. I kept pulling it away from his reach until he finally wrestled it out of my hand, and then he took a big spritz outta the thing, and I just let him do it. Cuz I just wanted to see what would happen. Well, right after he sucked it down, his eyes got all big, and he looked even more scared. He started looking all over the room and at me like he was an animal trapped in the zoo. He kept saying over and over, ‘Who are you? Who are you?’ and I was having a riot cuz I thought ‘This is way better than I thought,’ and I kept saying to him over and over, ‘I’m your big sis Kat. I’m your big sis Kat, Dorky,” and he kept saying he didn’t have a sister. And I kept pestering him, saying over and over, “Yes, you do. Yes, you do. I’m your big sis, and our parents are downstairs. You remember their names?” – y’know just to see what would happen – and he kept rocking himself in the corner crying and crying and saying he didn’t have parents either ‘cause they died years ago. Then he panicked, and I mean really panicked, ‘cause he ran right past me out the door and started running around the house trying to get away from me. Mom and dad kept telling me to quit chasing him, and for him to quit running in the house and when he saw them he screamed and ran out the door into the street, but he wasn’t looking both ways like Mom and Dad always told him to, and you know how our street doesn’t have any speed bumps or stop signs, and there was this car coming around the blind corner and… and then it… It hit…” The dam broke, and Katherine burst into tears.

Her sobs were drowned out by the wailing of a siren in the distance while Marie rubbed her head and consoled her. “Is he gonna make it?” Marie asked.

“I dunno. Doctors said something about ‘critical condition’, and we hardly have the money for big medical stuff anyway.”

This is all because of that stupid game, Cyrus thought. We should’ve never gone into the drugstore. We should’ve never swiped any of that stuff. We should all just get rid–

An idea popped into his mind. He turned to Katherine, who was still blubbering in Marie’s arms. “Kat, where’s the inhaler right now?”

She sniffed fiercely, bubbles of mucus crusted around her nose. “Probably back at my house.”

“Listen,” he said, “this all started because we all went into the drugstore and each took something valuable. I don’t know about you guys, but I think we were never supposed to go in that store. That place is evil, and the things we took are evil too.” He paused. The siren in the distance kept getting closer. Marie looked like she wanted to say something, but Cyrus kept talking, “I don’t know if this would work, or if anything would go back to normal, but I say we should gather up all the stuff and return them before anything else can happen to us.” The siren grew to a crescendo as an ambulance, blue and red lights blazing, screamed into the parking lot, driving up to the ER entrance.

“I second that”, said Marie. “We’d probably get in a lot of trouble with the store, and they might tell our parents, but it’s better than getting anyone else hurt.”

Katherine shrugged. “It was a stupid game anyway,” she murmured.

“So we’re all on the same page?” Marie said.

“Not all of us,” Cyrus said, a concerned look on his face. “Where’s Hermes? Didn’t you call him, too?”

“I tried,” Katherine said. “I tried a couple of times, but couldn’t reach him. It just went straight to voicemail–”

She was interrupted by an uproar of voices. The paramedics in the ambulance shouted orders to each other. They threw open the back doors while nurses ran out from the hospital, rolling a gurney. The paramedics lowered someone from a stretcher onto the gurney, and the nurses took it from there, scurrying back to the ER wing.

That’s when they noticed it.

Even from the other side of the parking lot, they could still make out the hideous sight of a bright blue parka, a kaleidoscopic colored t-shirt, and ugly lime green pants being pushed on the gurney. They watched as Hermes, his face red and puffed up beyond recognition, was wheeled into the hospital.

* * * * * *

The three of them met up with Hermes’s parents, who explained to the young trio what had happened, or what they thought happened, because it wasn’t clear to them. Hermes had made it home that evening and locked himself in the bathroom for over an hour. They could hear him turning on and off the faucet and then pouring something down the shower drain over and over again. Then they heard him scream. They said he must’ve been fooling around with the thermometer, because when Hermes’s father busted the locked door open, he found mercury spilled everywhere and a horrendous stench hung in the air. Hermes was unconscious. They carried him out of the house and away from the fumes while they called the emergency line. An ambulance arrived, and they followed it to the hospital. Hermes’s parents said they were surprised to see his friends already at the hospital, and Katherine explained her unfortunate situation. Cyrus wanted to know what Hermes’s condition was.

“The doctors said he inhaled some of the toxic fumes,” his mother said. “They told us it could’ve been lethal if we hadn’t gotten him out of the house in time. They’re going to check up on him and see what they have to do.”

A nurse came by and asked for the guardians of Hermes Gauthier. They stood up. From their chairs nearby, Cyrus, Katherine, and Marie could overhear what was being said. “Your son is still unconscious at the moment,” the nurse explained. “We’re going to check and see if there’s any permanent damage to his systems, so we’re going to put him under some sedatives to run some tests.” They thanked her, and she continued. “It sounds to me that he wasn’t exposed for very long. If that’s the case, then it shouldn’t be a problem. I’d say he has a very good chance of coming out of this perfectly fine. We’ve given him a dose of amoxicillin to counteract any infections in his nose, and we plan on–”

“You’ve done what?!” his mother shrieked.

The nurse was taken aback by the sudden outcry, but was composed enough to clarify. “We’ve given him a small dose of amoxicillin, which is an antibiotic that helps fight bacteria in the nose and–”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” his father said, the color from his face had drained away. Hermes’s mother swayed on her feet like a thin tree in the wind. “He’s allergic to amoxicillin!”

As if on cue, a swarm of nurses and doctors ran by them into the operating bay. Snippets of conversation floated as they flew by.

“Room 200” – “Patient HG80” – “Severe reaction” – “Face swollen up like a balloon” – “Not breathing” – “CPR now” – “Do we have an AED?” – “Where’s the AED?”

* * * * * *

In the late-night hours of March 7th, the medical staff at Diona General Hospital put twelve-year-old Hermes Gauthier under a medically-induced coma to combat an allergic reaction. The boy would never wake up from it.

* * * * * *

“I don’t think there’s any other way,” Cyrus said. It was much later in the night. The clock had passed midnight over an hour ago, and the three remaining friends sat across from each other on the floor of Marie’s house. They slipped away from the hospital and their inconsolable parents. They decided something had to be done about the things they swiped. But first, they had to gather everything in one place. They rode their bikes to Katherine’s empty house. Her parents were still at the hospital waiting for news about their son. She found the inhaler in her brother’s room. Next, they rode to Hermes’s house. Some of the lights had been left on. Katherine knew they hid a spare key around the back, and they let themselves in. They covered their noses with hand towels and charged into the bathroom. True to his parents’ words, Hermes had spilled a bunch of mercury all over the place. It had splashed across the floor, covered some of the bathtub, and splattered against the wall. They found the scuffed and cracked neti pot, the true culprit behind Hermes’s hospitalization, against the sink. Finally, they rode across town to Marie’s house, where she got the fireplace going while they settled in. She had been home alone when Katherine called her, since her parents were constantly on business trips. Her aunt, who lived next door, would occasionally come by and check on her, but it was late in the night, and the surviving trio had the dark, foreboding house to themselves. Cyrus still had his glasses in his jacket, and they laid everything on the floor.

“There’s no other way,” Cyrus repeated. “We can’t return them anymore, and we can’t trust ourselves around them. They’re evil.”

Marie nodded. “We gotta get rid of them.” She looked like she wanted to say something else, but kept quiet.

“Not just that,” Katherine said. “We have to destroy them.” They all agreed on that part.

“But how?” Cyrus asked.

“Set them on fire,” Katherine said, “shred them up, smash them with a hammer. I don’t care what we do, I just want them gone.”

“I don’t know if we can do that for mine,” Marie said. She was looking at her pack of razors. Cyrus noticed that they had been opened recently.

“Marie, what were you doing before Kat called you?”

She threw her hands up in defense. “I got curious, alright? Everyone got to see some fun stuff happen with their things, and I was left out to dry. So when I got home, I opened them up and – carefully – tried them out on stuff. I tried carving with some soap, which worked like a charm, and then I found some wood out back. I was whittling some thick twigs as smooth as butter. But then, while I was in the backyard, I accidentally dropped one, and it fell on this big rock, sharp edge down. I thought it would bounce off and make a dint in the blade, but believe it or not…” she reached behind her back and produced two halves of a rock, split perfectly down the middle, each roughly the size of her palm, “…this happened.”

Cyrus and Katherine stared with unbelieving eyes, but considering everything else they’ve been through, they knew she wasn’t lying. “So… what?” Katherine said. “They’re really, really strong razor blades?”

“The box did say ‘Super Strength, ‘“ Cyrus added.

“That’s not all,” Marie continued. “I tried them on harder and harder stuff around the house. We had a lead pipe out back that dad was gonna use for something, but never did. It cut right through it like it was nothing. Guys, it can cut through lead. I think these things can cut through anything.”

“Then we have to be super careful with them,” Cyrus said.

“But how are we gonna get rid of them?” asked Marie.

Katherine stared blankly into the crackling fireplace. A warm glow emanated from her brown eyes. “We burn them,” she said. “We burn everything.”

They gathered near the fireplace, laying out the four items like sacrificial offerings. Marie unlatched the screen in front of the hearth, and they stared into the hypnotizing flames. Cyrus reflected on the long day they had had: the ups and downs, the highs and lows, the excitement and the looming horrors. The three friends were prepared to wash their hands of this mess.

“Do we just throw them in?” said Marie. “Simple as that?”

Katherine grabbed the inhaler. “I’ll go first.”

“No, wait!” Cyrus nabbed her arm. “What do you think is gonna happen if you throw a pressurized canister into the fire?”

“What should I do then?” she said. “Do I get rid of the stuff inside and then throw it in?”

Cyrus shook his head. “Too risky. What if we accidentally breathe it in?”

“But what if she throws it in and the gas gets released anyway and explodes?” Marie asked.

“Let’s find out.” Katherine tossed the inhaler into the fireplace. It plopped on top of the burning logs and rolled off the side, landing in a pile of ash.

“Kat!” Cyrus yelled.

“Just stand back,” Katherine said, quickly closing the screen, “and if anything bad happens, we’ll be too far away for it to hurt us.”

They backed up and huddled near the corner of the room, watching the fire intently. Nothing happened. They waited a few minutes. Still nothing happened.

“Is it even burning?” said Marie.

There was a loud pop. They jumped. Then a louder pop. A deafening bang reverberated through the room as the inhaler rattled around inside the hearth before shooting out through the protective screen like a bullet. It ricocheted off the floor in front of the fire, scattering the other items and leaving a dark skid across the hardwood. It shot right by Marie’s head and punched through the wall. Smoke billowed from the open fireplace, quickly filling up the room. Cyrus pulled the other two away, coughing as the acrid gray smoke floated to the ceiling.

“Did you breathe it in?” he shook Marie’s shoulders. “Did any of you breathe in the gas?” They shook their heads adamantly. “What’s your full name?” he asked Marie.

Stunned and confused, she meekly said, “I’m Marie Yennet.”

“Where are you right now?”

“I’m… in my house.”

Cyrus turned to Katherine next.

“What’s your name?” he asked. She pushed him away, a mixture of frustration and fear painted her face.

“Quit asking dumb questions,” she said. “I’m Kat, you’re Cy, she’s Marie. We’re trying to get rid of a bunch of stuff we stole from a podunk drugstore, and it nearly killed us.” She took a big breath and calmed down. “I’m sorry my idea didn’t work. But it might work on the glasses at least.”

“How?!” Cyrus screamed. “If getting rid of it didn’t work on yours, how’s it supposed to work on the rest of the stuff? Those things are evil. They’re the type of pure evil no one can destroy.”

“And look at what happened to the wall,” Marie sobbed. “What are my parents gonna say when they see this? My dad’s gonna kill me. And what am I supposed to do about the raz–” she turned toward the rest of the items near the fireplace. The glasses and neti pot had scattered around the room, but it was the razor blades that had cut her off.

They were floating.

As if strung up by invisible wires, they hung suspended in the middle of the room, bobbing up and down like ethereal ghosts. Hot steam rolled off their tips, rising up and mingling with the dark gray smoke. They floated like plastic bottles on ocean waves. Then, like a mad puppeteer pulling his strings so frighteningly taught, they stiffened and flew toward the kids.

Marie screamed. Cyrus’s feet were glued to the ground. Katherine pulled them by their collars, and they snapped out of their stupor just in time. One of the blades nicked Cyrus in the arm, carving a fine red line along his tricep. He hissed in pain. Several of them flew at Marie’s head, but she ducked just as they caught up with her. They sliced through her hair; long locks of blonde-white fell to the floor, giving her the worst haircut of her life. They started running.

The razors chased them with terrifying speed. They turned a corner in the hallway. A few of the razors flew too fast and embedded themselves in the wall. Cyrus turned back to watch them wiggle free while the others kept pursuing them.

“Get to the bathroom!” Marie shouted. “We’ll lock ourselves in!”

“I thought you said these things can cut through anything!” Cyrus yelled back.

“They have trouble getting through stuff that’s bigger than them!”

They turned another corner, bringing them full circle to the front of the house. The bathroom was on the other side of the room, next to the stairs. Its door was open. Marie and Cyrus made a beeline for it, but Katherine ran the other way to the front door.

“Kat! What’re you doing?!” Cyrus cried. She didn’t answer. The razors came barrelling around the corner into the wide, open foyer. Katherine made it to the door but fumbled with the lock. Half of the blades peeled off from the pack and went in her direction. Meanwhile, Cyrus and Marie careened into the bathroom. Cyrus grabbed the door and slammed it shut. Several powerful thunks pounded into the door. Marie was right. The blades couldn’t get in. But now, simultaneously, the two of them couldn’t get out.

“The window!” Marie said. Pale moonlight spilled through a small window next to the sink, lighting up the dark bathroom. “Quickly!” Just as she was about to unlatch the sliding glass pane, they heard Katherine’s sharp, agonizing screams.

Despite his better judgment, Cyrus turned the knob on the bathroom door and threw it open. More than a dozen razor blades were embedded in the sturdy oak. They wriggled around like worms on fishing lines, then pulled themselves free. They floated in front of Cyrus’s face, not making a move. Cyrus looked past their glinting edges to the other side of the foyer. There was Katherine’s fallen body. She’d gotten the door open, but the razors cut her down before she could escape. Her skin was peeled to ribbons, red rivers seeped under her body. He never knew blood could be so dark. The blades were poking out from all over, jostling and pecking like vultures eating dead carrion. Cyrus could still see her shallow breathing.

The blades floating in front of the bathroom moved slowly like docile insects and joined their comrades. They swarmed together and picked up Katherine’s motionless body. They carried her, supporting her legs, arms, head, and torso up and out the front door. Marie stood dumbstruck behind Cyrus, tears brimming in the corners of her eyes. She ran past him to the open door. He followed her, and they watched while Katherine was taken away. Her mangled body flew toward the moon like a puppet on strings. She grew smaller and smaller as she was carried toward the hills. Cyrus heard Marie gasp behind him.

“The lookout!” she shouted. “They’re taking her to the lookout!” She leaped down the stone steps to the front lawn. Cyrus chased after her, dimly aware of the dense smoke growing behind him in the living room. His mind briefly thought of the glasses he left behind in front of the roaring fireplace.

Good riddance, he thought. Let them burn.

* * * * * *

Of all the trials and horrors Cyrus had gone through, nothing could have ever prepared him for the sight of his friend’s twisted body displayed in a tree. He and Marie sped through the sleeping town on their bikes, flying past black alleys, skipping through abandoned intersections, and skimming under the orange streetlights. They chased the devil of the night all the way to Gerald’s Bridge. The road up to the lookout was too steep to climb on their bikes, so they hoofed it from there. Two pairs of worn shoes beat against the frigid slopes past looming fir trees, nightmarishly dark slopes, and serpentine trails. Cyrus thought back to when they carried Hermes up the hill that same afternoon. It felt like forever ago.

By the time they made it to the top of Pandemon Hill, it was far too late. The ghostly white moon shone down behind thin clouds onto their panting, hunched bodies. Acid ran through his veins, and there was a stitch in his side whenever he inhaled. None of that mattered. None of that mattered when he looked up at a tall fir tree next to the stone wall and saw Katherine’s lifeless corpse tangled in it like a lost kite. Strips of skin and muscles dangled below her in clusters on the branches. Dark blood dripped from the leaves like a leaky faucet. He didn’t see the shallow rise and fall of her chest anymore.

Dozens of razor blades floated around the tree like vengeful spirits. Some hovered close to the ground, others next to the stone wall. They looked like the swords of an army of cavalrymen, ready to charge into battle. They merely awaited the command of their master. In the distance, there came a soft fluttering sound. Over the view beyond the stone wall, Cyrus saw glinting pinpricks rise into the air. They got bigger and bigger, closer and closer until he could tell what they were. Six additional razors flew with tremendous speed up the hill. They had strings hanging below them, and attached to the bottom of those strings were three very familiar items: the inhaler, the neti pot, and the glasses.

The razor blades dropped their load onto the soft grass. Cyrus’s glasses rolled over several times, coming to a rest at his feet, gazing up at him with translucent eyes. The neti pot tumbled over and hit Marie in the shin. The inhaler didn’t move much. It was charred, completely burned through and through. It had caused them enough trouble that night.

The blades congregated together in a big clump, then dispersed into a wide circle. They surrounded Cyrus and Marie.

“What are they doing now?” Marie said.

“All purchases are final,” Cyrus whispered. “No returns.”

Slowly, nearly imperceivably at first, the blades started spinning. They spun and spun, around and around, faster and faster and faster. They whipped up a vicious frenzy, the sound like thrumming helicopter blades. Cyrus closed his eyes and put his hands over his ears. He couldn’t tell if the loud thumping was his own heartbeat or the beating of the blades. They kept picking up speed. A shrill whine emanated from them. Cyrus could’ve sworn he heard laughter in the wind.

“Cy!” Marie yanked his shoulder. He opened his eyes. She was standing in front of him. She held the neti pot in her hands, sloshing the water inside around. Cyrus couldn’t figure out how the damned thing could still have anything left in it after all this time. “I forgot to tell you this earlier, but you remember when you said how you had a bad feeling about the drugstore?!” she yelled.

Cyrus nodded furiously. “A little late for that. What about it?!”

“I looked it up when I got home! I looked up ‘Flytrap Drugstore’ and hardly anything came up except for a few urban legends, but there was this blog post that got my attention! Whoever wrote it said they saw the drugstore in their hometown and bought something from it! The next day a bunch of kids disappeared and the shop was gone too! Weeks later, they found the bodies of several kids scattered around the city! Apparently, they stole some stuff, but the police couldn’t tell where they stole it from!”

Marie took a deep breath. The razors kept getting faster. Then Cyrus noticed something terrifying. They were closing in. “It’s been happening all over the country,” she continued, “in six different spots! West Virginia, Michigan, New York, Indiana, Delaware, and even in Ontario near Toronto! So far, sixty-two kids have been reported missing or found dead in those places! Now it’s come to Diona Hills! Now it’s come for us!”

“Why are you telling me this?!” Cyrus shouted. The blades inched closer. They were being corralled near the stone wall.

“Because I think it’s supposed to end tonight!” she said. “It’s already come after Hermes and Katherine, and now it’s coming after us! But I don’t think it’s meant to get both of us!”

“What are you saying?!”

“Hermes is in the hospital because of the thing he stole. Katherine was supposed to die by the thing she stole, but she got her brother hurt instead. I think…” she swallowed. “I think I’m supposed to die from what I stole.” The blades got closer. Cyrus could feel them passing by mere inches from his skin. “But I’m not gonna let them take me like this,” tears sprinkled the edges of Marie’s eyes. “If I’m gonna go out, I’m gonna do it my own way.” She lifted the neti pot above her head.

“Marie, what’re you–” before he could get another word out, Cyrus watched as Marie dumped the contents of the pot onto her head. It splashed off her hair and face, and a sharp hissing steam filled the air. She screamed and dropped the pot. It landed on the grass, spilling an opaque liquid onto the ground. The grass started to wither away and melt as whatever was inside ate away at the dirt and roots. A pungent aroma wriggled through the air.

Sulfuric acid.

Marie screamed again and peeled the skin off her face. The highly potent acid chewed away at her body: tissue, fat, bones, everything. She was melting from the top down. Her eyes boiled in their sockets and slipped out. The ends of her fingers chipped away and shriveled into tiny nubs of burned flesh. The liquid dripped down, eating through her clothes and stomach. Blood and burned fat oozed from her open wounds.

“Cy!” she howled, her tongue filled with holes. “Help me!”

The acid dripped onto her shoes, burrowing into her feet. She lost her footing and toppled over the stone wall. Her screams echoed off the sides of the hill as her liquefied body tumbled down. Cyrus could only hear the damp splats as she fell through bushes, bounced off trees, landed on rocks and rolled down the slopes. There was one final wet impact, and she stopped screaming. At the same time, the whirling razor blades suddenly froze like a demented carousel crashing to a halt. They all dropped to the ground, nothing but dead weight. In the distance, the siren of a firetruck wailed. Other than that, there was silence. No wind, no breeze, no rustling of trees or critters in the bushes. Just pure, awful silence.

“She took quite the plunge, didn’t she?”

A familiar voice. Cyrus turned. There, sitting nonchalantly on the stone wall, legs dangling off the side in the pale moonlight, was the drugstore cashier. He was still dressed in his dark green apron, the red on his nametag sticking out like a sore thumb. His long blonde hair and striking blue eyes, which Cyrus had thought were very nice to look at, now emanated a menacing aura. His head was cast downward. Paradise Lost lay open in his slender hands.

“I knew you were reading a book,” Cyrus said, taking a brave step toward him.

“Certainly,” the cashier replied coyly. “When you get as old as I am, reading becomes an essential pastime to waste away the years.” He shut the book and turned his head to look at Cyrus. “But I must say, I’m not a fan of how Milton portrays me in this one. Perhaps I’ll reread Dante later.” He got to his feet and tossed the book over the stone wall. He was taller than Cyrus imagined, well over two meters.

“Who are you?” Cyrus demanded. “What are you?”

“Who and what I am doesn’t matter,” the lanky cashier walked slowly toward Cyrus, taking his sweet time with each long stride. “Then again, maybe it does. I’ve left countless hints for you and your friends. I mean, what kind of person puts his full government name on a uniform tag?” He stood in front of Cyrus, towering over the shivering child. The red glint on the apron shone in his eyes, and Cyrus finally noticed the words stenciled into the shiny plastic:

Lou C. Ferr.

The cashier bent down in Cyrus’s face. His crystalline eyes were wide and bulging with ecstasy. “Too subtle for you, dear boy?” he said, a crooked smile etched on his pale white face. “Or not subtle enough? Perhaps I should go by Mammon like I did with those kids who robbed me at gunpoint. But I got the last laugh when I robbed them of all of their teeth, one by one. Or maybe you could call me Asmodeus, like when that smarmy pimple-faced teen stole a cheap necklace for his girlfriend on Valentine’s Day. He stole her heart, alright, and I stole his spine straight from his back!”

Cyrus cowered, taking a step back. The cashier merely stepped closer to him. “Too much for you, my boy? Too much for you? What if I had you call me Levi Ethan, like when that little brat stole a pair of AirPods because mommy got some for his brother for Christmas, but none for him? But he should’ve been thankful for what he had, like his perfectly good ears that I ripped off before filling his head with wasps!” The cashier howled with laughter. Cyrus took another step back, his shoulders bumping into the stone wall.

“No, no, no, wait a moment, my friend,” he said, sticking his arms out and pinning Cyrus to the wall. “You haven’t heard the best part yet. After the kid squirmed around, yelling, begging for mercy, I squashed his head like an apple! Ha ha! Get it? Apple, like the AirPods!” He reeled with laughter. “The point is, I don’t care what you call me. I can go by my female counterparts, Bea L. Zebub and Belle Fagor, or you could just call me by my real name. But I won’t tell you what that is. I think you’ve figured it out by now.”

Cyrus’s throat felt dry. He swallowed the frosty night air and tried to speak. “What do you want?” he croaked.

The cashier’s shoe bumped into something on the ground. The wild, frightening look in his eyes faded away. He bent down and picked up the charred remains of Katherine’s inhaler.

“It’s not a matter of what I want,” he twirled the blackened inhaler in his thin hand. “It was never a matter of what I wanted. It’s about what you and your friends have done and what the consequences will be.” He paused. “Four kids, freshly dismissed from school, still full of energy and vigor, decide to shoplift from a lonely drugstore on a boring Friday afternoon. Why, you may ask? They did it for the thrill. They did it to show one another up. They did it…” he looked at Cyrus. “…for pride.”

He eased the inhaler into his pocket and stepped away from Cyrus’s small, quaking body. “I did warn you, back at the store,” he said. “I told you that all purchases were final. No returns. Whatever you take, you keep.” He snapped his fingers. The motionless razor blades swept up into the air and flew over to his outstretched hand, where they stacked neatly on top of each other in rows of four. “Of course, until you can’t keep it anymore.” He let them fall into his pocket. “That’s our policy.”

He went over and picked up the neti pot. It was still fully intact, despite being covered in spilled sulfuric acid. The cashier brushed off the opaque liquid like it was nothing. He frowned. “Seems this one is still holding on.” He put it gently on top of the stone wall. “Keep it, if you wish. Don’t worry, it’s safe to handle now, but I suspect it won’t last long.”

He walked over to the pair of glasses, still lying on the dewy grass. He plucked them from the ground and brought them over to where Cyrus stood. With soft, almost kind hands, he slipped them into Cyrus’s jacket pouch. “Those, believe it or not, are my favorite,” he said. “Mostly they’ll show what will be, but sometimes they’ll show only what may be. It’s up to you to figure out which is which when you wear them.” He patted Cyrus on the shoulder. “Just don’t break them, kid.” He turned around and started walking away. Cyrus suddenly found his tongue working. He flinched, as if woken up from a stupor.

“Wait!” he cried after the cashier. “I still need to know–”

“Oh, don’t worry, my boy,” the cashier said behind his back. “I’ll be seeing you again shortly. I’m certain of it.”

As the cashier walked away, his body slowly disintegrated. Ash in the wind. Pieces fluttered away, quickly swallowed by the night. Cyrus was left alone at the lookout. Far away down the hill, Marie’s house glowed a deep orange, engulfed in flame the color of twilight.

* * * * * *

Cyrus eventually made it back home, but wasn’t able to get any sleep until the sun came up. The small town of Diona Hill awoke that morning to a tragedy. The Yennet household at the end of Vitriol Court had caught fire in the early hours. The only child, Marie, was presumed to have been burned alive. The body of Katherine Aleksey was discovered before noon when a couple of hikers noticed a pack of crows pecking at her mutilated corpse. Her parents were still at the hospital when the news arrived.

Cyrus had taken both the glasses and the neti pot home with him. Two days later, Hermes Gauthier stopped breathing, and his heart monitor flatlined. The doctors concluded the cause of death was a sudden and abrupt case of apnea. Cyrus had found out his friend had died sooner than any of the medical staff in Diona General. He was sitting in his room when the neti pot on his dresser shattered without warning. He was so frightened when it happened that he ran from his room. When he returned later, there was no trace of the neti pot. It had simply disappeared.

As for the Flytrap Drugstore, Cyrus didn’t need to venture downtown to know that it had disappeared as well.

The police figured out that Cyrus was the last one seen with Katherine and Marie. They questioned him extensively over the following weeks, but he wasn’t able to provide any satisfactory answers. All he could tell them was that they all went home for the night after hearing their friend had slipped into a coma. The police of Diona Hills left the case unsolved.

For Cyrus, the case was never left alone. Every night, he was bombarded with nightmares of his friends. He saw the bloated face of Hermes. He saw the shredded body of Katherine. He saw Marie’s melted figure falling away into a black void, crying for help over and over again. But above all, it was the image of the devilish cashier that haunted his mind. His crooked smile, gleeful eyes, and twisted expression invaded Cyrus’s head at night. Occasionally, the raspy words of the cashier would infect his ears.

I’ll be seeing you shortly.

True to his word, the cashier would surely see him again, because a month had passed since his friends had died when Cyrus found himself standing in front of the bathroom mirror. He was wearing the glasses. Through those bleary lenses, Cyrus saw a chilling sight. There he was, his face white as a sheet and deep blue bags under his emaciated eyes. Standing right behind him was the horrific image of the cashier. His eyes were dark, soulless pits. Black scaly wings spread out from his back. His jaw was unhinged, opening wider than humanly possible, his mouth covered with rows of innumerable teeth.

They show what will be, but sometimes they’ll show only what may be. It’s up to you to figure out which is which.

Cyrus took off the glasses, dropped them to the carpet, and smashed them under his heel.