The Smashed Man of Dread End

by J. W. Ocker

  Eventually, at some point, she wasn’t sitting cross-legged in the corner of an invisible house on a residential street in Osshua with a woman who spoke in a Southern accent who Mom thought ran a Mexican restaurant. She was floating in blackness. That extremely familiar blackness. And as usual, she wasn’t alone. But this time her companion wasn’t the eyeless purple snake. It was the second phase of the creature. The solid darkwash Elberex, purple and glowing against the void.

  The shimmering Elberex was floating away from her, pulling her behind it. The void seemed to close around her, like she was in a dark tunnel. Soon the darkness of the tunnel was ribbed with rings of bright white light, which she flew through, the ribs flashing past faster and faster as she picked up more speed.

  And then she saw faces in the tunnel. Or rather on the outside of the tunnel. White ovals in the blackness with empty black eyes and mouths, like featureless masks. But they weren’t lifeless. She could feel their gazes as the faces popped in and out of existence.

  The Elberex slowed. Stopped. Hovered. She did the same. The tunnel had disappeared, and they were once more in an inky void. The Elberex moved again, but not in a direction. It started moving around itself like the purple loops were a conveyor belt, speeding up until it seemed like it was about to fly apart. Noe started panicking, but she wasn’t sure why.

  The Elberex stopped.

  A purple eye opened in each loop.

  Noe threw her arms across her face in shock.

  She found herself back in the corner of a ticking room on Dread End. It felt exactly like coming out of a sleepwalking episode. She grabbed at the pieces of reality and nightmare around her and tried to assemble them with numb fingers, wondering which pieces were real and which weren’t, using them to pull herself back to herself.

  The ticking behind her stopped. “What did you see?” asked Fern.

  Noe moved the Elberex to her other hand and looked at the impression it had left on her skin from holding the object so tightly. “Weird stuff.” As best she could, she described the tunnel and the faces and what happened to the Elberex. “Do you know what that all means?”

  “Zero clue, girl. But cell knowledge is always gibberish to us at first. We’re like two-year-olds trying to read an advanced physics textbook.” But Fern sounded disappointed, and Noe felt like it was her fault.

  Stepping back into the neighborhood from the invisible house was like coming back to all her problems—the Smashed Man, the summer bonfire, sleepwalking, protecting her little sister. But now she had strange images of tunnels and white-mask faces and solid darkwash. She looked down in her hand and realized she had kept the purple Elberex.

  As she stared down at it, almost walking into one of the trees in her front yard in the process, something began to tickle in her mind. Something important. She wouldn’t completely figure it out until later that night, in her bed, after she’d checked on the baby gate and Len.

  Noe opened Erica’s diary, flipping through the pages here and there and mostly looking at the sketches. She stopped at a large image of the Smashed Man’s face. One with the Elberex on its forehead.

  Maybe the vision had told her how to get rid of the Smashed Man. And maybe Erica’s plan hadn’t been too far off after all.

  Thirty

  The day of the summer bonfi re seemed far too hot to light a match, much less a giant fire. But that didn’t seem to slow anybody in the neighborhood. Leading up to the fire, Noe watched people clean their lawns and cart brush over to her backyard. Some neighbors even hired professional tree cutters to take down dangerous limbs and trees. The tree cutters had giant cranes that soared up into the sky and were accompanied by men with loud, terrifying chain saws. The whole neighborhood seemed to be going through one of Mom’s spring cleanings, except that she never burned unwanted toys and clothes at the end.

  The bonfire started at six thirty, and it would be fully dark about two hours later. That was the scary time. The Dread Enders had a plan, but it was a loose one, with far too many places for it to go completely wrong.

  Noe had been surprised that Crystal and Radiah had gone along with her latest idea so willingly, after how many times she had messed up, but they did. Maybe a month trapped in their houses watching the monster roam the street was enough. Maybe they were just ready to be done with the Smashed Man for good, either way. Maybe they trusted her.

  She looked out her window and saw Radiah and Crystal passing her mailbox. Just as Noe had suspected he would, Dad had eventually replaced the boring black mailbox with a more fanciful one. He had chosen a box shaped like a covered bridge. Radiah was carrying a bowl covered in cling wrap, and Crystal held a tray covered in aluminum foil. Noe grabbed a paintbrush off her dresser, stuck it in her back pocket, and raced down to meet them. As they walked up to her, her brain flashed a quick image of Radiah, Crystal, and Ruthy looming at the edge of her front yard when she had first moved in.

  “Everything ready?” asked Radiah.

  “Yup,” Noe answered. “Food goes on the table in the backyard, the bonfire is prepped, and we start the party promptly at six thirty.”

  Radiah narrowed her eyes at her.

  Noe lowered her voice. “There’s a bucket of darkwash hidden in the kitchen cabinet by the back door and another by the steps outside it. I have the Elberex here,” She grabbed the leather cord that had been around her neck since Radiah had given her the witch stone and pulled it out of her T-shirt. Instead of the witch stone, the shimmery purple Elberex had been strung on it through its two loops. The other girls instinctively grabbed their witch stones. “Does everybody have their paintbrushes?”

  Crystal and Radiah both turned slightly to show wooden handles sticking out of their back pockets.

  “Where’s Len?” asked Radiah.

  “Here I am!” sang Len, suddenly behind Noe as if she had popped out of a gopher hole. She held a stuffed kiwi bird above her head with both hands. “Can I jump on your back?” she asked her big sister.

  “No, I’m busy. Go help Dad . . . do something,” said Noe.

  “Come on!” said Len.

  “You can jump on my back,” said Crystal, handing her tray to Noe. Len beamed at her, and Crystal squatted down to let her climb aboard. Crystal stood up and wobbled a little until she found her new center of gravity. Her face turned an instant red when Len wrapped her tiny arms around her throat too tightly.

  “Loosen up, Len,” said Noe.

  “Sorry,” said Len, and moved her hands to Crystal’s forehead.

  “Everyone knows their places tonight?” asked Noe.

  “I’m on the kitchen side of the house,” said Crystal.

  “I’m on the garage side,” said Radiah.

  “And I’ll stick close to Len,” said Noe.

  “And I’m on Crystal’s head,” said Len, putting her hands over Crystal’s eyes and laughing.

  More neighbors were walking down the street now, laden with bags of chips and bottles of soda and pans and plates and bowls full of homemade food. “Let’s go party, I guess,” said Noe, and the four girls headed to the backyard on six legs.

  It was impossible to enjoy themselves. Even though they didn’t have to do anything until dusk, the weight of what they were going to try hovered over the backyard like it was about to drop and flatten them all into smashed people. The watched the fire build into a giant raging cone, but it wasn’t as interesting as it would otherwise have been. The smell of grilling steaks and corn wasn’t tempting. The tables full of desserts were easy to ignore. Seeing so many people around wasn’t exciting. The Dread Enders just kept waiting for night to fall.

  The girls ended up hanging out at the edge of the yard at Wombat Rock—Len’s name for it had caught on. It was a mossy hump of granite about the size of a teacher’s desk, about half the size of Rune Rock, and not at all shaped like its namesake. Wombat Rock was far enough away from the party to stop adults from coming up and asking them questions about school or the handles sticking out of their poc
kets or offering their condolences about Ruthy, but not so far away that they were too isolated.

  The girls took turns giving Len piggyback rides, but mostly they kept their eyes on the forest. And the backyard. And the fence that divided them from their neighbor on the one side. They had no idea what direction the Smashed Man would come from. Mostly the girls leaned against the rock, ate chips, and swatted at the flies swimming through the hazy heat.

  Eventually somebody handed out s’mores sticks, and Noe took Len to get one. Crystal and Radiah followed, although cautiously. If the s’mores sticks were being brandished, it was almost nightfall.

  Finally dusk coated the sky enough for the bats to come out, circling above them and around the Pilgrim weather vane like they did every night, flapping like mad and gorging gleefully on hordes of tiny insects. The girls took up their positions, Radiah on one side of the house, Crystal on the other, and Noe close to the back door with Len beside her.

  Len panicked right on schedule. At least one part of their plan was predictable.

  “It’s dark,” said Len to her sister, a sticky, crumbly remnant of s’more squeezed in one of her small hands, the kiwi bird dangling from the other. “Werewolves will come.”

  “Yeah, they might.” Noe felt bad as soon as she said it. But she had to.

  “I want to go inside.” Len was panicking. “I want to go inside.” She dropped the rest of the s’more into the grass, instantly forgotten. “I want to go inside.”

  “Okay, okay. Hold on.” Noe looked around the backyard and saw Dad throwing a log on the bonfire and talking to Radiah’s dad, who was tall and bald and looked strong enough to lift her father with one arm. She walked over to her dad, pulling Len behind. “Dad, Len’s panicking about the dark. I’m going to take her inside, let her play on my laptop for a while.”

  “Sure. Thanks, honey.” He went back to his discussion with Mr. Harris.

  Noe led Len across the yard and into the house through the back screen door. She stopped at the kitchen sink to help her wash the marshmallow and chocolate off her hands and the kiwi bird, and then started leading her up the stairs to her room.

  “I don’t want to go to my room,” said Len, yanking her hand back from Noe’s.

  “It’s only for a little while, until the bonfire is over. And you get to play on my laptop.”

  “I’ll be all alone in there,” said Len.

  “You have to go in there. Or my room. Do you want to stay in my room?”

  “No. I don’t want to be alone.”

  “You’ll have your animals. . . .”

  Len thought about it. “Can I have all my animals in your room with your laptop?”

  “Len, I don’t have time . . .” But Len had crossed her arms across her kiwi bird and was standing firm on her terms.

  “Okay. Let’s get them in there fast, though.” Len broke out in a large smile and beat her big sister upstairs with an “I win!” Noe didn’t have time for this, but she really needed Len as far away from what was about to happen as possible, and to be protected behind a door. The two girls started transferring stuffed animals by the armload from Len’s room into Noe’s like they were playing Noah’s Ark. It took five trips to get them all moved. Noe’s bed was now three feet taller with all the animals on it. Len dived in.

  Noe got Len set up on the laptop with a bunch of games and videos she liked. “You have to make a promise to me.” Len didn’t answer. She was already engrossed in a video. Noe shut the laptop.

  “Hey!” said Len.

  “You have to promise me something.”

  “Okay.”

  “In a little bit, me and Crystal and Radiah will be downstairs in the kitchen. You might hear us shouting, but you cannot leave this room. It’s very important that you stay here until I come and get you.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m serious.” Noe paused and then said, “Or the werewolves will get you.” Len’s eyes widened and she wrapped her arms around a pangolin. Noe opened the laptop, and Len was immediately distracted by it.

  Noe closed the door and went downstairs. She opened a cabinet in the kitchen and dipped her brush in the bucket of darkwash that she had hidden there. Tiptoeing back upstairs, she painted a quick Amberonk on her door.

  With Len safe, Noe headed back outside. It was full night out there. She made eye contact with Crystal and Radiah, who were still at their posts, although looking more worried, and then took up her post beside the back door and waited.

  Noe dipped her paintbrush into the darkwash that she’d hidden by the back-door stairs and held it at the ready. She strained her eyes so hard into the darkness that her head started aching. From where Crystal and Radiah stood on each side of the house, they could see both the front lawn and the street, as well as the backyard. They alternated their attention between the two views.

  As Noe stood within arm’s reach of the Amberonk on the back of the house, she automatically grabbed the Elberex dangling from her neck. She had to hide it under her shirt most of the time, otherwise her parents’ eyes went purple every time they looked at her, like she was the Smashed Man. With all the adults blind to what was going on in this neighborhood, it was almost like she was living in an imaginary world of her own creation.

  At eight forty-five, there was still no Smashed Man. It was all Noe could do to not run screaming into the forest.

  Every once in a while, an adult walked by, their eyes flashing purple when they looked in the direction of the sigil on the house as they said hi to Noe or asked her why she was holding a paintbrush in the air. The Amberonk sparkled like crazy with reflected firelight, almost making it more visible now than it was during the day. The effect was mesmerizing. She stared at the darkwash sigil for a long time. Too long. She almost missed the Smashed Man.

  Thirty-One

  The Smashed Man had slid most of the way out from under Wombat Rock when she saw him. Noe shuddered, realizing that he had been right beneath them.

  It was time to act.

  She looked over at Crystal and then at Radiah, neither of whom seemed to have noticed yet. “Radiah! Crystal! Now!” she shouted. Half of the adults in the yard looked at her, but only briefly. Kids and kids yelling were the same things to them. Noe pointed her gloppy paintbrush at where the Smashed Man wavered and bounced at the edge of the yard. She waited for a shout from an adult or for one of the small groups spread across the lawn to run in alarm, but of course that didn’t happen. The summer bonfire continued like there wasn’t a monster there.

  The Smashed Man moved.

  He slid through the crowd, all purple eyed and oblivious to the horror weaving and wavering among them. His eyes were glowing purple dots, and the darkwash stains on his face reflected the firelight, giving him a grotesque glittery mask.

  He was headed straight for Noe.

  Radiah and Crystal were also headed for Noe, their paintbrushes at the ready.

  Noe kept eye contact with the Smashed Man. She wanted to make sure he focused on her and not on Crystal and Radiah. He was coming at her fast. She could see the reddish rips in the skin of his face and body. See the gleaming of his teeth in the bonfire light, the ever-present grin making her skin goose-bump like it wanted to pull from her body. His flat head never turned to the left or the right. He completely ignored the crowd of adults he was sliding through, and the adults did the same.

  She heard the screen door slam behind her, meaning Radiah and Crystal were now safely inside and protected by the Amberonks on the house.

  Noe was alone in a backyard full of oblivious revelers.

  She reached back with her brush and painted a few slashes over the Amberonk with fresh darkwash, destroying the old sigil.

  The back of the house was no longer protected.

  Noe readied herself as the Smashed Man drew closer. He was to the bonfire now.

  No, he was in the bonfire. The Smashed Man wavered and floated and undulated inside the giant fiery cone. For a moment he paused, the skewered mars
hmallows so close to his face he could have bitten them off their sticks, and the adults, completely ignorant and purple eyed, surrounding the fire and chatting warmly with drinks in their hands as their marshmallows browned. The flames lit up the darkwash stains on the monster’s face furiously but could not mute the shimmering of his violet irises. His mask of madness never twitched, even as the flames roared around him and then soared above him as cinders and smoke rose into the bat-filled night sky.

  And then he walked out of the bonfire, unsinged, untouched by the flames, indestructible. If fire couldn’t hurt him, then what hope did three girls with paintbrushes have? Noe’s knees almost buckled in fear and disappointment.

  “Hello, everyone!” A loud voice cut across the murmur of people around the bonfire. “Sorry I’m late!” It was Mrs. Washington. She was walking into the backyard with a casserole dish and a small boy who looked to be Ruthy’s age. “This is my grandson. He’s staying with me for the weekend.”

  Noe looked back at the Smashed Man. His head twisted like a cobra’s to take in the boy. His body twisted in the same direction, and he started running right for him, weaving through the adults, who clutched paper plates and drinks and talked while the monster moved inches away from them.

  Noe also charged at the boy. “Hi, Mrs. Washington! I’ll take him to where all the kids are playing! Let’s go!” She grabbed the boy’s hand and started pulling him toward the house. The boy didn’t say anything, just looked back at his grandmother in confusion. Noe didn’t bother to gauge where the Smashed Man was. It didn’t matter. It only mattered that she make it through the back door. And then after that, all kinds of other things mattered.

  “His name is Ben!” Mrs. Washington called after her. “And I promised him s’mores!”

  Radiah and Crystal were holding the back door open and yelling at her to hurry, like the night she had thrown the bucket of darkwash in the Smashed Man’s face. But she hadn’t been pulling a boy behind her that time. Ben wasn’t fighting her, but he wasn’t following as fast as he should be. Not like his life depended on it. “Faster, Ben!” she yelled.