Hawk Hallow

by J. D. Oliva

  "I'm pathetic," he finally said.

  Connor couldn't sleep that night. He kept replaying the scenario in his head. Watching Tyler's fists drop onto Cody's face over and over again. In his head, Connor kept screaming for Tyler to stop, but Tyler wouldn't stop. He just kept raining those fists down on his brother. Only, that's not what happened. In real life, Connor laughed the entire time.

  That morning, Connor wanted to apologize. He knew why he kept laughing, even if he didn't want to admit it to himself. Connor was jealous. Jealous that Cody was Dad's favorite. Jealous that Cody was becoming such an athlete. Jealous that Cody was mature enough to realize that popularity was stupid. It was embarrassing to admit that, but at the same time, he felt relieved. He needed to apologize for what happened. It might not have been his plan, but he didn't do anything to stop it. Connor needed to fix things, but when he went into Cody's room, he was already gone.

  "No worries, I'll catch him tonight," he thought.

  When Connor got to school, he sat in the cafeteria and listened to Tyler tell the tale all over again. He listened but didn't laugh. He heard the words of a bully and it made him angry. It made him even angrier to realize that he was now one too.

  "What's the matter, Burk?" Tyler asked.

  "What's the matter is you're a piece of shit! I should beat your worthless ass right here and embarrass you in front of all of your friends!"

  That's what Connor wanted to say.

  "Nothing, man," is what he actually said.

  Connor just wasn't brave enough to stand up to his friend. He was a coward and a bully. That's what he'd turned himself into by hanging out with these guys. Looking around, he started to figure out that his friends weren't great people. But what was he going to do? Join the football team and get his brains beat in to try and be like his little brother? That was stupid. These were his friends, and this was just the kind of guy he was now. He didn't have to like himself, but there wasn't much he could do to change it.

  Over the next few weeks, nothing changed. He still wanted to apologize to his brother, but Cody didn't seem to care. If Cody didn't care, why should he? It was just a joke. Though, each time he hung out with Tyler and the boys, he found himself having less and less fun. Yeah, they were smoking more weed than they used too, but at least Tyler would shut up for a while. It was worth it just for that alone.

  The plan for Halloween was more of the same. Wake up, go to Tyler's, smoke a little, go into town, do some bag snatching, and probably smoke a little more later. Maybe watch a horror movie at Tyler's house on Netflix. Why not? It wasn't like any of them were going to the Barn Dance that night. The plan went out the window when a flying egg smashed against the side of his head. Then everything made sense. The eggs, the black outfits. Tyler was so angry that he tore off after Cody and his friends. But Connor didn't care.

  Cody went to such extreme lengths to get his revenge that Connor couldn't help but laugh. They certainly deserved what they got, and probably a lot worse. Connor had no urge to rush off and try to fight his brother. The fact that Cody actually showed this much emotion and retaliated made Connor happy. Maybe they weren't all that different. Maybe this meant that they could finally stop pretending the other didn't exist. That was getting old. Everything about all of this was getting old. It's funny that sometimes, all it takes is a bag of shit to the face to wake you up.

  Connor watched his friends ride off. Ten minutes ago, he would have followed them into battle without a thought. Now, he just shrugged and said, "Whatever."

  Connor wandered around town watching little kids trick or treat with their friends, and even smaller kids trick or treat with their families. He remembered when his dad dressed them up as the Stooges. At six and seven, the boys had no idea what he was going for, but it was fun. He missed those days.

  Connor walked back home. He didn't feel like hanging out with anyone. He wasn't sure what he felt like doing. Maybe he was just going to tell Mom the whole story. She'd find it pretty funny. But when he got home, he found the front door wide open. Mom never kept doors unlocked, let alone wide open. He walked in and saw the glass bowl that his late Grandmother had given his parents as a wedding gift, shattered on the floor.

  Something happened. Something bad. But who....

  "Tyler," he said.

  Was he crazy enough to take his anger toward Cody out on their mom? It terrified Connor, but he knew the answer to that question, especially considering that he'd ditched his supposed best friend rather than go into another war.

  Connor stepped out of the house and saw a group of people standing at the intersection of Grant and Douglas pointing to the sky. Connor jogged over to the group.

  "What's going on?" He asked.

  "Look," a girl pointed to the sky.

  Thick black smoke billowed up in the distance.

  "What's over there?" She asked.

  ”Whatever it is, ain't gonna be there for long," another added.

  Connor knew exactly what was burning in the distance.

  "The Hallow."

  Connor ran back to the front yard and grabbed his bike. He hopped on and started pedaling harder than he'd ever moved in his life.

  "Tyler, what did you do?"

  XLII

  Roscoe leaned back in his leather work chair and stretched out his arms. The first thing he noticed after purchasing the Haunted Hallow from the Burk's was that every room had a small webcam hidden the ceiling. No doubt, Mike Burk had bought them as a simple security feature. Made sense. But to Roscoe it was something more. The webcams gave him a full, unadulterated view of the chaos that he'd manufactured. Over the years, the Slaters worked a variety of different angles in their trapping. He made a small mental checklist of the most effective scenarios. He wasn't much a fan of repeating himself, but in this plywood labyrinth, he was able to open up his little fear treasure chest and set a stage far grander than what he ever imagined. Mike Burk was a genius at building and maintaining a haunted house. The inner workings and maze-like nature of the Hallow were brilliant, but Roscoe added a new dimension.

  He was a propitiator of fear. It was more than his business. It was his life. Here in the Hallow, not only was he able to create his grand masterpiece, a chessboard where his family could run wild and feed, but he was able to take his skills and teach his new minions. The kids working for him were fantastic. That was something Roscoe didn't anticipate. It was a surprise how much he enjoyed passing a lifetime of fear on to these new students, even if they couldn't execute his techniques perfectly. Not that it mattered, they were only employing fear for fun. The Slaters needed fear to survive. But he never expected these kids to be as sadistic and creative as his own.

  Watching Bo and Kyra tear through the Hallow, he knew that they saw what he saw. A chance to let loose and use their favorite, most-honed hunting skills. They needed fear to survive but damned if they weren't having the best time. If only he found this calling earlier he could have planned a road show. Gone on the ‘terror tour’. He was already building business strategies in his mind. It could work. They didn't have to eat that often. One or two kids per town then move along. He was surprised how much the cheerleader girl filled him up, but he was always far easier to satiate than his kids. Especially Kyra. He was going to have to warn her about going too far later. The last thing he wanted was too many kids missing. They didn't need any more people asking questions. The one he had following them was trouble enough.

  KNOCK KNOCK

  "Um, Roscoe, can we talk for a minute?"

  Roscoe sighed and turned away from his bank of computer screens. He saw Bo, looking down to the floor, avoiding eye contact and fidgeting with his gas mask. Whatever he had to say wasn't good.

  "Shouldn't you be out there, raising Cain with your sister?" He asked.

  "That's, um, that's the problem, Roscoe. It's Kyra she's--uh--sh--she's gone."

  “What do you mean, 'gone’?” He asked with gritted teeth.

  Bo struggled to find the right
words, but eventually he spit out,

  "I didn't mean to, but I kinda caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror, just a little one. Real quick like."

  "You know better than that!"

  Roscoe popped up from his chair and walked over to his adoptive son. He knew that Bo often forgot that he was more than a head taller and often used this to remind Bo of his position in the family. Roscoe was trying to hold back his frustration, but looking into Bo's eyes, he knew he wasn't doing a great job.

  "I know, I know, but that's where I saw her," Bo paused. "You know, the real her."

  He knew what Bo meant.

  "She was with them. They were probably taking her to the Byzantine."

  Roscoe stroked his greasy goatee with his thumb and index finger. This was a problem.

  "Not good. Not good at all," Roscoe said trying to cover his own fear.

  It wasn't the first time he'd lost a family member, but it had been awhile. At least more than twenty years. He was going to have to figure--

  BLAMM

  Both Roscoe and Bo dropped to the floor as the shotgun rang out.

  "Blake!"

  XLIII

  After a minute on the floor, Roscoe and Bo picked themselves up and slowly moved toward Roscoe's wall of monitors. They hunched over the screens and saw Blake in the Monkey cage.

  "That crazy son of a bitch just shot some kid in the chest!" Bo said.

  "Damn, just when I thought we finally got a good thing going," Roscoe lamented. "Oh well. Time to move on."

  "No way!"

  Bo grabbed Roscoe by the sleeves of his priest's robe. "What if he's the one that got Kyra?"

  "Wouldn't be the first time he got one of us," Roscoe said.

  After all the time that they spent together, Roscoe didn't even care that she was gone.

  Bo pulled on Roscoe's sleeve and said, "I'm tired of running from that piece of shit!"

  "Your sister got sloppy. She knew the rules, and now she's gone. We don't move, we're gonna follow her."

  Roscoe turned to leave the room when Bo grabbed him by the lapels and pulled him in close so that the two of them were now standing face to face. At first, Roscoe was taken aback at Bo's sudden thirst for independence. Roscoe's eyes widened as he reached out and grabbed Bo's neck with his thick, vice-like hands. Bo showed just a moment's weakness, but it was all Roscoe needed. With his other hand, Roscoe turned off the monitor creating a black, reflective surface.

  "I say, it's time to go, but if Kyra's lack of presence is so important to you, maybe you should go find her," Roscoe said.

  Squeezing Bo by the throat, Roscoe whipped him around the room. He threw Bo up against the walls, then drove his head into the dark screen. Roscoe pinned Bo's face against the glass, forcing him to stare at his own reflection. At once, the world started to bend.

  "What are you doing? They're gonna find both of us!” Bo cried.

  “Nope, just you, little Beauregard."

  Beauregard. It's what Roscoe always called him when he was in trouble. Bo felt the glass starting to puddle. His face began sliding through, back into their home world. In seconds, they'd be there to pull him through the other end and then Bo's days would be over. Then Roscoe would be all alone. There was no way Bo was ever going to let Roscoe have free reign over Earth by himself. Especially, with what the Byzantine was going to do to him.

  "I'm -- I'm sorry," Bo struggled, "I'm sorry, sir."

  Roscoe pulled Bo's head away from the monitor and pushed him into the wall, breaking all of the panels of drywall behind them. He looked up at Roscoe, who towered over him. The Boss was always good at making himself look so damn intimidating.

  "Like I said, time to go. Abracadabra," Roscoe said before turning his back and walking away.

  Abracadabra was a particular escape plan, one that would only be used in case of emergency. It was basically code for 'every man for themselves’. The family would split up and meet at some truck stop down the road. There was one fifteen miles north off of Interstate 94 that Roscoe had flagged as an Abracadabra point before they got into town.

  Though Bo was sitting in a pile of broken drywall and two-by-fours, Abracadabra was the best news he'd heard since losing Kyra. The minute Blake showed up, Bo should have known Roscoe would call Abracadabra. He shouldn't have even mentioned going after Blake. Roscoe never confronted Blake, not once, despite the fact that the old man had taken out at least three family members. It could have been more since Blake had been trailing them since before Bo joined the family. He never could understand why Roscoe was so afraid of him, especially since he had so much more control over his body than any of the other Slaters. What made Blake so scary? He was a little fat-guy who liked to start fires. Though to be fair, Blake didn't have the courage to face Roscoe either. Sure, he picked off a couple of them over the years, but never the man himself. Both of them were a couple of sissies.

  Seeing as they were now in Abracadabra, what was stopping Bo from taking out the fat, sack of shit by himself? Roscoe was already out the door, and they weren't planning to meet up for hours. Bo had some time to kill before meeting up with Roscoe later. Besides, it had been awhile since he'd eaten. Bo pulled himself up and brushed off the crushed pieces of drywall. Thick, white dust filled the air around him. He threw his gas mask back on, more for aesthetics than anything, and went back to find Blake.

  He wandered through the back hallways, which were restricted to Hallow employees only. The back hall allowed them to roam free away from the customer's eyes. The halls were no bigger than a few feet across and finding your way through in the dark took some time. The back hall was more maze-like than the Hallow itself. But they were perfect for sneaking up on people, which served the Slaters well, for both business and pleasure. Bo spent more time in the back halls than either Roscoe or Kyra. Roscoe wouldn't lower himself to sneaking up on people, mind games were more his forte. Kyra preferred just to come out and attack, subtlety wasn't her thing. Bo was different. This game was much more suited to what he did, and he learned every shift and turn, knowing how to get into each room as quickly and as quietly as possible. Roscoe thought of himself as a trapper. That was too small time for Bo's imagination. He was a stalker, and these halls were the Serengeti.

  "Anybody notice how quiet it's gotten," said a girl's voice from behind a wall.

  Bo recognized the voice but couldn't place from where. He peered around a blind corner and saw a collection of kids. A girl and two boys dressed in black. He didn't recognize her, but her voice was familiar. Maybe they worked here?

  "Uh, maybe you missed that really loud bang that shook the walls? Or the giant, blue monster-ghost-thing?" One of the boys asked mockingly.

  Blue monster-ghost-thing? Did he mean Kyra?

  Another boy answered, "She's got a point, Nick. Ever since that bang, everything's been different. Like nobody's here anymore."

  This boy, there was something about that one. Yes, that's it. The boy from the dance, the one that took the beating. Was Kyra trying to possess one of their bodies? Did they see Blake trying to kill her?

  "Maybe everybody got out?" The first boy asked.

  "Or maybe they're all dead." The first boy screamed.

  "Stop it, Nick!" The girl yelled.

  "Oh, like that's not possible! Do you know how lucky we are that thing didn't kill us before we killed her?"

  Killed her? There's no way these little turds stopped Kyra. How could they? She was the most vicious of them all.

  "We didn't kill her. We stopped her. Whatever that thing was wasn't a person and there's no body, so she isn't dead," said the girl.

  But she was wrong. These kids did kill her. Somehow Kyra's body was damaged, and let her true self loose. That's when they found her. These kids may not have done it themselves, but they caused it. She was dead because of them.

  "Fine whatever, I just wanna get outta here. Who knows how many more of them are running around here."

  "Exactly, so let's find my brother."

/>   It was time to even the game. Bo emerged from behind a fake wall and said,

  "Y'all looking for your brother? That's real funny cause, I can't seem to find my sister. Maybe you seen her?"

  XLIV

  "Looks kinda like a big ol' ball of blue fire? Maybe y'all seen her?"

  Bo ripped the gas mask off his face. He smiled and revealed a set of gnarled buck teeth glowing blue.

  "Uh oh," Nick said starting to peddle back.

  Bo walked over to what looked like a circuit breaker and opened a small metal door on the wall.

  "I guess you have," he said before pushing a tiny, nondescript-looking button.

  CLIK CLIK

  The sound of grinding gears filled the small room. The kids looked around trying to figure out what was happening.

  "What was that?" Abi finally asked, fearing the answer.

  "It's a compactor," Cody said. "Run!"

  The kids all took off for the only exit out of the room. Cody knew the walls weren't going to crush them. They weren't nearly strong enough. What they would do is cut off any possible escape. His dad had designed the compactor to trap people inside of a room with the workers, who would usually wield a chainsaw or something and chase the customers around the room. It was one of Mike Burk's fiendishly brilliant ideas. Like most of the Hallow's innovations, it was one he probably never figured would be used to actually hurt someone.

  "Squee! Squee! Run little piggies!" Bo shouted toward them.

  As the walls pinched in, Bo took to all fours as he chased them through the compactor like a coyote running down its prey. Cody was the first to pull through, followed by Nick, with Abi moving behind. As the doors started to close, Abi's feet twisted and she fell to the floor. Bo sprang up into the air like a jungle cat and knocked Abi to the floor.