Croak Read Online Free PDF Page B

frames collected dust at every turn, while a large tank of jellyfish stretched across an entire wall, like a live mural. The luggage Lex’s mother had sent sat at the edge of it all, blending in perfectly. Lex grinned, her sense of alienation abating. This was exactly the way she and Cordy had always preferred to live: in utter squalor and disarray.
    Tingling with anticipation, Lex ran down the hall to her room and flung open the door.
    Her face fell.
    No bedlam. No eyesores. And not a single useless trinket.
    Instead, a beautifully carved armoire stood gracefully in the corner. Next to it, a desk made from spotless white oak. Pink bedding, curtains, and rugs, as if a flamingo had exploded. And worst of all, looming on the wall across from the frilly, perfectly made bed: a
Titanic
movie poster.
    Lex shrieked in horror and slammed the door. “What was
that?
”
    “What’s wrong?” Uncle Mort asked as he entered the house. “You don’t like it?”
    “I hate it! Were those doilies?!”
    “Dammit.” He sighed. “I thought I could trust him with this.”
    Lex glanced at the slightly open door across from hers, on which was tacked a poster of The Who. She peeked through the crack, but all she could see was a massive set of drums. Next to that, another door was wide open and spewing a heavy stream of smoke. She squinted down a set of stairs at several bubbling vials of goo.
    “Your basement’s on fire.”
    “Oh, that’s just my lab,” Uncle Mort calmly replied, closing the door and fanning the sulfuric fumes away. “I like to tinker.”
    “I see.” Lex strayed back into the living room and looked around, confused. “Where’s the TV?”
    “I don’t have one.”
    “WHAT?” she yelled. “WHAT?”
    “After a few days you won’t even care. And don’t worry about your room, it’ll all be fixed by the time we get back.”
    “Get back? Where are we going?”
    “Out. Can’t very well have the redecorators come in while you’re still here, can we? Besides, we have to talk.”
    “Yeah, right.” She let out a huff, walked into the kitchen, and sat down, throwing her muddy feet up onto the table. “You almost killed me about twelve times in the past hour. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
    “Ah, but you are.”
    “Make me.”
    “Gladly.”
    And with a lightning-quick swoop of his arm, Uncle Mort grabbed his niece by the waist yet again, flung her over his shoulder, and walked out the door.
    ***
    As she was lugged upside down through the empty streets of Croak, Lex thrashed with a ferocity that would have impressed even the most seasoned probation officer. Yet Uncle Mort seemed not to notice, and before long, Lex’s protests were reduced to nothing more than an occasional groan.
    “Almost forgot—I promised your family we’d call when you got here,” he said cheerfully as they passed into the other end of town, his shoulder digging into her stomach more and more with every step.
    Lex, now fairly nauseated, jammed her elbow into his lower back and propped up her addled head onto her hand. “Here’s an idea,” she said weakly. “You put me down, I’ll use my cell.”
    “No reception for miles. Hence, the Cuff,” he said, indicating the strange band around his wrist.
    “Fascinating. Put me down.”
    Uncle Mort ignored her. “Gotta make a personal call first.” He did something to the Cuff—it turned staticky again and stayed that way—then began to quietly scold it. Lex thought she heard him utter a few key phrases like “it’s a bedroom, not a Victoria’s Secret,” but by now she was teetering too closely to the brink of unconsciousness to even guess what was going on.
    “I am about two seconds away from vomiting all over every inch of you,” she told her uncle in a slurred voice as he hung up.
    “And me without a poncho. Pity.”
    She riskily let out a small burp. “Oh God. Put me down. Please?”
    “Was that a magic word I just heard? Did an ounce of politeness just escape the