Chapter 20

chapter twenty Dandy-Lions ice cream parlor is near the edge of town. There's not much nearby: a gas station, a handful of trees, and a T. J. Maxx parking lot. Rain is beating down hard, pouring sideways in sheets.

We park Big Mama around the back, then race for the entrance. I push through the doors—and I'm instantly punched in the nose by a putrid sour milk stench. Turns out, year-old ice cream does not smell the best. Who knew? Stale waffle cones crack beneath my feet like broken glass. "Quint, this is where you and Bardle do your, like, tail research?" June asks. "It's gross and weird," Quint admits. "But there's free Oreo crumble!" The tail is in the center of the shop, atop a metal table. It's hard to believe this shriveled rat tail—with pieces of melted action-figure plastic inside—is the key to controlling and activating an army of total undead terror. Bardle stands over the tail, pondering. "Bardle," I say breathlessly. "Thrull is back." The light reflecting off the table colors his face a ghostly yellow-white. Rain whips in and the wind slams the door shut. Thunder rumbles

in the distance. Drops of water seep through the ceiling. Bardle looks like a mad scientist as he turns to us. "I know," he says. "And he wants the tail." Quint exclaims, "We have to—" destroy it. I know that That is what I have been trying to do. Quint, confused: "What?" Bardle sags. "Quint, I knew from the start that no good could come of the tail. But I hoped

your research might reveal a weakness. However, it seems an impossible feat. All that I've tried has made me weak." "But we have to," I say. "Thrull will—" But I pause before I can finish. Because it's eerily quiet all of a sudden—and somehow, I know it's Thrull. He's here. His voice booms louder than thunder. "I HAVE COME FOR THE TAIL!" I look to my friends. We all have the same frozen expression on our faces: fear, questioning. What's next? What do we do? I move to the drive-thru window—and I see that he's not alone.

I slide the window shut. It knocks over an old tip jar, and coins roll out, clanging against the wet pavement. Way to go, Jack. Super smooth. It's not like a tiny plastic window is gonna keep us safe from what's out there, but still. It's something. Dirk grunts, "Feels like the Old West in here. We're holed up in this ice cream parlor like it's

a shack on the plains—and Thrull's the black- hatted bandit outside." My eyes scan the store. "We gotta do something, or this ice cream parlor shack is gonna be our tomb." Bardle's face is blank, but his lips are moving —whispering to himself. It's like he's working something out in his head. Finally, he nods—slow and heavy. "There is one thing I can attempt. Please, step back...." Bardle places his hands on the tail. His eyes close, and the atmosphere seems to change. The air around us starts to glow. The pounding rain—like horrible vampire fingernails tap-tap-tapping the roof— intensifies. Wind whooshes and whips. I grab on to a nearby table, suddenly afraid that I'm gonna be yanked into a tornado destined for who-knowswhere. Bardle shudders and the knotted tail throbs and swells. Thousands of thick, terrible hairs stand on end.