Four Dark Nights

by Bentley Little

  Chase shook his head. “My brother’s done it. And he says it tastes like sweat.”

  Johnny and Frank looked at each other. “Ewwww,” they said simultaneously.

  “You guys’re like a fucking cartoon show.” Chase grabbed the book from Frank’s hands and tossed it back into the closet with the others, covering up the pile with a load of dirty clothes.

  Frank picked up his Coke from the floor and finished it off, tossing the can at the wastepaper basket and missing. That’s what he liked about hanging out at Chase’s house—the boy’s parents were never home. They always had the place to themselves. They could do cool stuff like read porno books or go to chat rooms on the Internet or make prank phone calls. That wasn’t possible at his and Johnny’s houses. Johnny’s mom didn’t work, so she was always at home. His own mom did work and was gone, but since his dad worked at night, he was home all day. That was the worst.

  But Chase’s house was open range, they were free to do whatever they wanted, and it was almost like they weren’t kids, like they were college students rooming together, grown-up buddies hanging out in their own pad.

  “Why should we believe your brother?” Johnny said. “Maybe he’s lying and the book’s telling the truth.”

  “Because I know him. Because I caught him in his room with a babe once when my parents were gone. And because he doesn’t just talk about things like you two dweebs. He actually does ‘em.”

  “Us two dweebs?” Frank said, smiling.

  “Yeah,” Johnny said. “Between school and sleeping and hanging around with us, I don’t see where you have a whole hell of a lot of extra time.”

  “All right, like us,” Chase said, giving in. He finished his own Coke, threw the can in the air and karate kicked it across the room, where it hit the edge of a table and landed on the carpet. He looked from Frank to Johnny. “You know, we have a chance to change all that.”

  “All what?”

  “I overheard my brother talking on the phone. He and his friend Paul are going to the shrine tonight. They’re going to try to use it.”

  The shrine.

  Frank glanced at Johnny, then looked quickly away. Neither of them had ever seen the shrine, but they’d known about it ever since they were in grammar school. It was in the backyard of that lady professor’s house, next to Johnny’s, and rumor had it that she was a witch. Such rumors were understandable. Her house looked like it ought to be condemned, which was weird for someone with a job like hers, and she was hugely fat. Hardly anyone ever saw her, and when they did, it was only very briefly as she got in or out of her car. She taught about ancient religions or something at the junior college, and supposedly she’d put up the shrine to worship her gods. According to Keri Armstrong, who’d moved in fifth grade but who used to live on the opposite side of the witch’s house and was the only one of them brave enough to go into that overgrown backyard on a truth-or-dare, the shrine could grant wishes. If you wished the right way and said the right words and did the right things, it would give you what you wanted. A lot of kids had talked about using it over the years, but as far as he knew, none of them had ever been brave enough to go through with it.

  “What are they going to do?” Johnny asked.

  “They want money. Chaz has his eye on this old Charger that he said him and Paul can rebuild. They found it in The Recycler, even went down to look at it, but it’s two grand and in shit shape, and they’ll need another grand just to get it to work. So they’re going to ask for three thousand.”

  Frank whistled.

  “Yeah, I know,”

  “It’s not gonna work.”

  “No.” Chase flopped down on the couch. “You think that cow’s really a witch?”

  “There’s no such thing as witches.”

  “I know that, dill weed. I mean, do you think she thinks she’s a witch? Obviously she doesn’t have magic powers or anything. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be so fat and her house wouldn’t be such a goddamn mess. But if she thinks she does, she might still do all those spells and potions and things, even if they don’t work, just because it’s part of her religion or whatever.” He leaned forward conspiratorily. “Maybe she sacrifices cats or dogs on that altar.”

  “Or kids,” Johnny said, putting into words what they’d all been thinking.

  “Or kids,” Chase agreed solemnly.

  They considered that for a moment.

  “So what’s your plan?” Johnny asked excitedly.

  They both knew Chase had a plan. He never suggested they do anything without having some detailed scheme in mind, and they knew he didn’t want to just spy on his brother and his brother’s friends. Frank feigned an enthusiasm he did not feel. “Yeah. What’s the plan?”

  Chase grinned. “We follow ‘em out there, see what happens, see if they get their money. If they do, we ask for a hot chick for ourselves.”

  “You just said it wasn’t going to work.”

  “It probably won’t. And if it doesn’t, we’ll throw some rocks at ‘em and scare ‘em. They’ll be just as freaked by that place as us and they’ll probably crap their pants. If it does work He raised his eyebrows comically.

  “But…” Johnny said. He thought for a moment. “The shrine. How does it… operate? Do you just pray to it or do you have to bring it something or what?”

  “I’m not sure,” Chase admitted.

  Frank didn’t like anything about this. He didn’t believe in magical powers or the supernatural, but, , . still. “What if it’s a Monkey’s Paw-type deal? What if it gives you what you want but in some way that punishes you? Like your brother gets his money but it’s because your parents die in a car crash and he inherits the cash? Or you ask for a babe and she’s a corpse or something?”

  “I ask for a babe? We ask for a babe.”

  “Whatever.”

  It was obvious that Chase had not thought through any of these possibilities, and though Frank hoped that he’d been able to scare his friend, that Chase might change his mind and cancel the whole thing, it was obvious from the expression on his face that the other boy gave such concerns only the briefest of considerations before deciding to go through with his original plan.

  Since Chase didn’t know exactly when his brother would be heading over to the shrine, only knew that it would be late and long after dark, he suggested they all meet in his side yard at nine sharp, next to the fence where they used to have their clubhouse.

  Frank shuffled his feet and looked down at the ground, refusing to meet Chase’s eyes. “I might not be able to make it,” he said. “If I’m not there by nine, you guys go on without me.”

  “Whaddaya mean, you might not make it? It’s Friday night, dude! What are you going to do, stay inside and watch TV with your mommy?”

  The truth was, that sounded a whole hell of a lot better than sneaking through the witch’s backyard to spy on Chase’s brother. But he didn’t want to be tagged for life as a pussy and a momma’s boy.

  “Listen,” Johnny said, “we’ll tell our parents we’re going to a movie.” He looked at Frank. “I’ll say that your mom’s driving us; you tell your parents that my mom’s taking us.” It was tacitly acknowledged that Chase would have no problem getting out of his house.

  Frank snorted. “You don’t think my parents’ll look out the window and notice that your parents’ car’s still in the driveway? You’re two houses away! Jesus, what a stupid plan.”

  “Sneak out,” Chase said. “I don’t care how you do it; the details are up to you. Just make sure that you’re there on time.” He looked from Johnny to Frank. “You understand?”

  Both boys nodded.

  “Good. Because, trust me, there’ll be hell to pay if you don’t show.”

  They met at the appointed time in Chase’s side yard, where Chase was keeping an eye on his brother’s bedroom window. Chaz and Paul were still in there, and Chase said he thought they were waiting for another friend, but almost immediately after he said that, the bedroom light went
out and a moment later the two older boys walked out the front door.

  “The front door? I had to sneak out my window!” Johnny complained.

  Frank had, too, although escape from the house had been much easier than he thought. It was the first time he’d ever done such a thing, and the only thing he was worried about was getting the screen back on the window when he returned.

  “Come on!” Chase whispered. “Let’s go!”

  They followed Chaz and Paul as the older boys walked down the sidewalk, around the circle, the three of them keeping to the shadows, staying on lawns, darting from bush to bush. Chaz and Paul were acting casual, but they were acting too casual, and it was clear that they’d planned this thing out in advance. When they reached the witch’s house, they walked past it, stopped, pretended to talk, then walked back in front of it again. They were obviously on the lookout, making sure they had not been spotted, and when they determined that the coast was clear, they ran into the overgrown front yard.

  The darkness seemed to swallow them. Frank knew it was only the power of suggestion, a holdover from his younger days, when he’d been afraid to even look at that house and yard at night, but it seemed to him that illumination from the streetlight in front of Johnny’s died right at the edge of the witch’s property line, that light was not allowed on that wild weedy stretch of ground.

  “Hurry up!” Chase had brought a flashlight but he didn’t want to use it, not unless he had to. He thought it would give them away, and he sped after his brother and Paul, darting from dead tree to dead bush, pushing through the high dry weeds toward the side of the house. When they were far enough back from the road and thought no one would be able to see, Chaz and Paul switched on their own flashlights, and from that point on it was easier to trail them.

  They moved past a broken lawnmower and a discarded washing machine, a tree stump and a pile of buckets, and then they were in the backyard. There was no wall, no gate, no barrier of any kind, and it was only by the position of the fence next door that they knew where they were. They passed behind the edge of the house, and back here, if possible, the yard was even more of a mess. Frank understood now why neighbors had gotten up petitions against the woman, trying to make her clean up her place. It smelled, for Christ’s sake. Like her sewer had backed up or like she and all of the neighborhood cats and dogs had just taken a dump back here. Next to him he heard Johnny, the most squeamish member of their trio, gagging as though he were about to puke.

  “Shhh!” Chase warned.

  The debris and the foliage both grew thicker as they tried to follow the intermittant glow of the flashlight. This was a big yard, Frank thought, much bigger than any of theirs, and already he was lost, his sense of direction all screwed up. High bushes, and piles of wood and old rotting newspapers blocked the view of any of the adjoining yards, and even the black bulk of the house was lost from sight. They passed by a mountain of dead leaves, a bunch of scrap metal and chicken wire, and a pile of cardboard boxes filled with garbage. They seemed to be going in circles, and it occurred to him that Chaz and his friend didn’t know where the shrine was either; they were just searching by trial-and-error.

  Then they were there.

  Chase, in the front, stopped and crouched down behind an upside-down birdbath. Frank and Johnny followed suit. Chaz trained his flashlight on the shrine. Frank wasn’t sure what he thought it would look like, but it had been more like those things in the Chinese restaurant or in his friend Thanh’s house: a red alcove with a little plastic statue inside it and some gaudy Asian doodads hanging from the top, little pots sitting in the front with some burning sticks of incense.

  This, though, was … different.

  For one thing, it was big, as tall as he was, rather than a little box that came up to his knee. And it looked old. It was sort of an arch shape or a tombstone shape, and it was made out of mud or adobe or cheap cement that was all flaking off and crumbling. At the top was some sort of design, a squiggly spiral that was carved into the deteriorating material. Below that was a rounded alcove that was either painted black or went back far enough that light couldn’t penetrate. It looked like the sort of space where there should be a statue of a saint or Jesus or Mary or something, but it was empty. On the short stone platform in front of it were fingernails and photographs, underwear and hats, stuff that appeared to have been left by previous visitors.

  Frank had never known anyone brave enough to actually go to the shrine—until tonight—and he found himself wondering if maybe the people who had come here before were adults. The thought frightened him. He imagined Mr. Christensen or Mr. Wallace or maybe even Chase’s mom sneaking out here in the middle of the night to ask for a raise or a baby or a new car.

  Johnny’s dad got a new car last year.

  Frank didn’t want to think about it. He focused his attention on Chaz and Paul. What the hell were they doing? Both boys were unbuckling their belts, pulling down their pants and pointing their already erect peckers at the shrine. They started stroking themselves.

  “Your brother’s a homo,” Johnny whispered.

  Chase elbowed him in the side.

  “Ow!”

  Frank held his breath, afraid his friend’s outburst would give them away, but the older boys were too engrossed in their activity to pay attention. Neither of them spoke. Chaz had placed his flashlight on top of an upside-down garbage can, pointing the beam at that dark featureless alcove, and the light threw the two into clear relief. Frank could see their right arms moving in tandem, a rhythmic back and forth motion as they stroked themselves.

  He wanted to go home. It was too dark to see his friends’ expressions, but they had to be freaked by this, too. They were out of their depth here.

  Suddenly Paul stiffened, and a beat later Chaz did the same. Their arm movements accelerated, reaching a fever pitch, and then stopped. Both boys’ heads drooped, as if they were exhausted, and their arms hung limply at their sides.

  Something moved out of the dark opening in the middle of the shrine, a small awkwardly waddling creature that looked like a burnt Barbie doll. It had a horrible, powerful stench, the reek of rotting vegetables, and in the middle of its blackened mouth was one single shiny ultra-white tooth. It squeaked when it moved, not the animal squeak of a mouse but more like the mechanical squeak of a rusty door hinge.

  Frank had never been so scared in his life. This was something out of a nightmare, only it was far worse than any nightmare he had ever had. The blackened creature stepped directly into the flashlight beam, but that did not render its features any more clear or its appearance any less frightening. It stopped waddling, stood on a pile of clipped fingernails, and its squeaking intensified, speeding up, gaining in volume.

  Paul suddenly dropped to his knees, while Chaz backed away in horror. It was as though the burnt figure had spoken to them and they had understood. Chase’s brother, still facing the shrine, seemingly unable to look away, continued backing up until he hit a bush and could go no farther. Paul bowed down like a man about to be knighted, like a subject prostrating himself before his long, head and shoulders touching the ground. The figure reached out, caressed his hair, then bent forward, its single-toothed mouth pressing against Paul’s ear. The squeaking subsided to a whisper.

  And Paul started convulsing.

  Only the bottom of the flashlight beam touched him, but it was enough for them to see the spastic vibrations assaulting his body. The burnt creature was still whispering, and beneath the sibilance Frank heard the sickening crunch of bone on stone as Paul’s head jerked up and down, slamming repeatedly into the platform, knocking aside panties and baseball caps and photographs and fingernails. Blood black enough to be oil spread out from beneath the boy’s smashed face and engulfed the personal items, and Frank suddenly realized that the creature’s whispering had turned to hissing laughter.

  Chaz ran.

  The rest of them followed.

  All of them were screaming. Chaz had left his flashlight and
Chase hadn’t turned his flashlight on, but somehow they got out of the backyard easier and faster than they’d gotten in. They ran through the tangled jungle of dead plants and debris that was the witch’s front yard, and then they were on the sidewalk.

  “Oh shit!” Frank said, looking ahead. He grabbed the back of Chase’s collar, put his right arm out to block Johnny and forced his two friends into Johnny’s yard.

  His dad was walking Aarfy and was less than a house away!

  What the hell was he doing out this late?

  Chase’s brother had seen him, too, and the older boy ran up shouting, “Mr. Marotta! Mr. Marotta!”

  “That’s your dad!” Johnny said.

  “No shit, Sherlock.” Frank ducked behind a Camilla bush next to Johnny’s front porch and dragged his friends with him. They watched as Chaz explained what had happened, gesticulating wildly. Then he took Aarfy and ran toward Frank’s house, while Frank’s dad hurried over to the witch’s yard.

  “Fuck!” Chase said. “Your dad’s gonna get killed.”

  “No he’s not!” Frank responded, but he wanted to jump up and leap out of the bushes and yell for his dad to Stop! Turn around! Stay away from there! An instinct for survival and self-preservation kept him mute, however, and he told himself that whatever had happened was over and his dad would be fine, and he made himself believe it.

  Johnny stood. “I’m going inside. I’m through.”

  “But we gotta find out what happened to Paul!” Chase said.

  “Your brother’s going to get help, probably call the police. Frank’s dad’s over there now. There’s nothing else we can do. I’m going to bed and I’m not waking up until the sun’s out!”

  “I’m going home, too,” Frank said.

  “Pussies,” Chase said, but there was no meaning behind it. He was scared, also. It was his brother’s friend who had been killed, but his brother was still alive, and like the rest of them he probably wanted to go home and hide in the safety of his well-lighted house until this night was done.