Page 8 of Why Cheese?
“The explanation is that he fucked us over because he can. Just like everyone before him.”
“What would you have me do?” Roq turns on Cam, the both of them looking about to come to blows.
While Cam is certainly no lightweight, his biceps and pecs flexing taut like a boxer under his vest, he doesn’t stand a chance against Roq. He’s like half as wide as him.
Half as wide…
I flinch, remembering something. But no. That can’t be right. Still, I reach into my bag for the old photo from the wall.
The four men break out into what sounds like a never-ending argument.
“What would you have me do?” Roq begins.
“Anything other than selling us out,” Cam shouts in his face.
“We need—”
“We don’t need anything! We can do this just fine on our own without greedy hu—”
“Hey,” Cheddy pipes up, his gregarious energy puncturing through the fight. “What’s this?” Bent over, he picks my abandoned phone off of the floor. “A chocolate bar? I’m famished.”
“No, stop!” I shout as he plunges his teeth into the screen.
“Ugh. It’s rock hard and tastes like a window,” he complains.
Wobbling, I manage to stand and rip my cell out of his hands. “This isn’t food. It’s my phone.” Using my sleeve, I try to wipe away his saliva without getting any of it on me. The haphazard swiping causes my menu screen to pull down and switch off airplane mode.
My mother’s vengeful ring cries out.
I stare in terror knowing who’s on the other end. But all four strange men home in on it like my phone’s about to explode.
“What the hell is that?” Cam asks. They stare at my screen as the call icon shakes back and forth like it’s haunted.
“My cellphone. I’m getting a call…” I say carefully, hoping none of them are about to go nuclear over a ringing sound.
They’re dumbstruck by a simple piece of technology, all of them acting like they’ve never even… My heart jumps. I look down at the photograph that’s fallen from my purse. Then my eyes dart up to the four faces staring at me. They’re exact duplicates. Not a wrinkle of difference. It’s like fifty years didn’t even touch them.
Gulping, I walk back. My heels slam into the wall. “You’re…” I swallow hard, fighting through the panic welling up in my throat.
“We’re what?” Roq asks.
They appeared out of nowhere. Wear strange, old-fashioned clothes. Have weird names. And they haven’t aged in half a century.
There’s only one answer.
“You’re ghosts!” I shriek and turn for the ladder. They reach to stop me, but my flailing thumb hits my camera button. A great flash of light stuns them and they stagger back. Running on panic, I skitter up the ladder and out of the cellar.
They’re right behind me!
I don’t even bother to slam the hidden door. I book it through the store until my palms hit the front door. The jangle of keys catches my attention and I yank them out.
Whispering prayers to anyone who might be listening, I shove the door closed with all of my weight and turn the lock on the outside.
They’re coming. They’re going to eat my eyeballs.
I’m not strong enough to fight my gremlin and twist the lock another four times until it’s fed.
Air burning in my chest, I pant in horror from the edge of the sidewalk. The lights are still on, cutting through the darkness of the street. Rain pounds, drenching me to the bone. I keep watching, laughing at myself.
