by David Wood
She watched the ice cream man shrug. His voice was raspy, choked with phlegm. “All right, I guess.”
Dick walked to the man and offered his hand. “I'm Dick Dickerson.”
Carolyn walked down the driveway to the side of the ice cream man. She watched as the two shook hands. “Reggie,” the man said in his raspy voice.
“Hi,” Carolyn said, walking to stand beside Dick. She still couldn't quite make out Reggie's eyes. “I'm Carolyn,” she said, extending her hand. The man dropped Dick's and immediately placed his large hand around hers. “You're Reggie?”
The man nodded, releasing her hand after a gentle shake. “Yes, ma'am.”
Carolyn tried hard not to glance at Dick. She didn't want the ice cream man to see the look, to know she'd called Dick. “Nice to meet you,” she said.
Reggie nodded. “Nice to meet you too.”
“So,” Dick said, causing Reggie to turn toward him, “what brings you here? Kids aren't out for another couple of hours yet.”
There was an awkward pause as Reggie stared at him. The man's gloved hands rubbed together, sounding like sandpaper. “I came here,” he said, turning toward Carolyn, “to apologize for taking off so fast yesterday.” Carolyn blinked at him. “And to make sure your husband was okay.”
She opened her mouth, but Dick spoke first. “What do you mean 'take off'?” he asked.
Reggie turned back to him with a sigh. “Her husband kind of...had a fit or something. He fell and hit his head on the concrete.” The cream clad man sighed. “I, um, noticed he wore a medical bracelet. So I called the number on it.” Neither Carolyn nor Dick said anything in the awkward silence. “I got word to Mrs. Carolyn--”
“Leger,” she said softly.
Reggie turned toward her, the barest smile visible beneath the shade of his hat. “Mrs. Leger, that her husband had an accident.”
Dick nodded. “So you--”
“Let me finish,” the man said, his voice flat. “I waited until she got there. I wanted to make sure Mr. Leger was okay, but I was a little freaked out.” He lowered his head. “He, um, looked like he was going to attack me or something.”
Carolyn exchanged a quick glance with Dick. He blinked at her. She could tell he wanted to ask a question, but would hold it until after this. “I'm sure it was a little unsettling,” she said. “I do appreciate your calling me, Mr.--”
“Reggie,” the man said simply.
“Reggie,” she agreed. “I appreciate your calling us and letting us know.”
“Is your husband okay?” he asked, lifting his head just the slightest bit.
Through the shadow cast down upon his face, she saw that long nose again, the gray lips. “He broke his arm,” she said. “And he has a concussion.”
“What's wrong with him?” Reggie asked.
Dick laughed. “I'm sure that's none of your business.”
“Oh,” Reggie said. “My mistake.”
For a moment, no one said anything. Carolyn and Dick exchanged glances again.
Reggie shuffled his feet. “All right,” Reggie said, “I just wanted to make sure the man was okay.” He extended his hand to Carolyn again. “Sorry it happened, ma'am. But it was nice to meet you.” Carolyn managed to put her hand in his again and shake it. “Both of you.” Reggie offered his hand to Dick.
Dick was slow to take it, but squeezed hard once he did. Carolyn noticed Dick's eyes and knew there was little question as to whether or not he liked the ice cream man. “I'm sure,” Dick said. He grinned at Reggie, but his eyes still burned.
“I'll be going,” Reggie said. He headed back to the van and stepped inside. The engine started up, the tail pipe blowing a small puff of blue smoke into the winter morning. The two of them watched as the van drove into the cul-de-sac, rounded it, and headed back out into the neighborhood. They saw the barest glimmer of a wave through the passenger-side window as it passed.
“I don't like that guy,” Dick whispered as the van disappeared.
Carolyn shivered. “Buy you a cup of coffee?” she said.
“Your place or mine?” he asked.
“Definitely mine,” she said.
Dick placed a hand on her shoulder. “Yeah,” he chuckled. “Your coffee rocks, mine always sucks.”
She turned her head toward him and smiled.
“Come on,” he said, “let's get out of this cold.”
Chapter 29
“So he just collapsed?” Dick asked, a chocolate coffee biscuit rising to his mouth. He munched on the cookie with a satisfied “hmmm.”
Carolyn sipped her coffee. “Yeah, I guess. He doesn't quite remember falling down.”
Dick nodded. “Does he remember passing out in front of the house?”
Her fingers picked out one of the biscuits, sliding it into her mouth. She crunched the end and swallowed it. “Yeah, he does.”
“Is it that guy? That Reggie?” Dick asked with a look of distaste.
“Yes,” she said, wiping crumbs from her lips.
“Guy creeps me out,” Dick said, pushing the rest of the cookie into his mouth. He brushed crumbs from his jacket and took a sip of coffee. “I think we should call the HOA, get him banned.”
She harrumphed. “Good luck with that. Trey said the elementary school kids flock to him.”
“Sure,” Dick agreed. “But those damned bells. Man, they could wake the dead.” He paused, staring into his coffee cup. “Think we could file a noise complaint”?
Carolyn stared past him to the window overlooking the deck. Fall leaves, brown and dead, littered its wooden surface. “I don't know. Is it really worth it?”
He shrugged. “Don't know. But that guy creeps me out,” he said. “Just creeps me out.”
She laughed. “You need a thesaurus.”
With a grin, he picked up another coffee biscuit. “That's gonna cost you,” he said, lifting it and then consuming it in one bite.
“Small price for the zing.” She put her elbows on the table, resting her head on clenched fists. “What is it about him that creeps you out?”
Dick shrugged. “Don't know, exactly. But those tinted windows on the van... Who the hell does that? I mean, it's just-- Well, it just makes me distrust him.” Dick shook his head. “After meeting him today, I like him even less.”
“The hat?”
Dick nodded. “Yeah, the way he keeps it down so low over his fore- head you can barely see his eyes. And,” Dick said, raising his hands in the air, “who the hell wears gloves like that? Did you feel his fingers through them? Christ,” Dick said, “something wrong with that guy.”
“What do you mean about his fingers?”
“I held him a bit tighter than you,” Dick said, “they felt...wrong. I don't know how else to say it. Plus,” he said, taking another cookie, “his voice sounds all jacked up. Like he's on the verge of dying or something.” Dick shook his head. “Diseased.”
Carolyn nodded. She'd heard the rattle in the man's chest as well, breathing as if through cheesecloth. “Okay, yeah, I don't like him either,” Carolyn said.
Dick munched, holding up a finger, and then swallowed. “So, Trey's in the hospital?” he asked.
The tension from meeting the ice cream man had faded a bit, but it suddenly returned. When Dick left, she'd be all alone in the house until Alan came home. She nodded. “Yeah.”
He clasped his hands around the coffee cup. “For the broken arm?”
“And for the...episode,” she whispered.
Dick nodded. “None of my business, Carolyn. I like you guys a lot and just want to know you're safe.” He thrummed his fingers on the table's surface. “Okay?”
“I appreciate that. I really do.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Okay, so here's the deal,” he said, crossing his arms across his ample chest. “I want you to call me if anything strange happens. I don't care if it's a false alarm, you just call me. I'll keep watch.” He chuckled. “Hell, I'm almost always home anyway.”
Carolyn nodded. “Thank you.”
He smiled. “Now,” he said as he reached for the packet of biscuits, his face set in a manic grin, “may I have another?”
Chapter 30
The hospital room was still dark, but the sunlight had managed to break through the clouds enough to clothe the room in twilight. Through the half-open door, he heard nurses walking past, medicine carts traveling through the hallway on squeaky wheels and the occasional conversational fragment.
Trey lay with his eyes closed, focused on his breathing. They had given him another sedative after Carolyn left.
“Something to help you sleep,” the nurse had said.
Sleep? Shit, the stuff had knocked him flat. He didn't so much sleep as pass out. The next time he opened his eyes, the sunlight had shifted. A look at the clock on the wall told him it was already 3 p.m. Alan's school day would soon be at an end.
Trey felt his heart rate rise. He closed his eyes again, and imagined Alan's happy face. His heartbeat slowed a bit.
Carolyn would pick him up. Carolyn would walk or drive him home. It would all be okay.
The thing at his bedside. The ghoul dressed in the the ice cream man's uniform. It had surprised and scared the hell out of him. But hadn't there been something else? Something familiar? The thing had... rasped.
Trey felt something click in his mind. Raspy voice. The long nose. The eyes. They had been yellow and then turned green. Closet Man green. Something was so--
“You sleeping, Trey?”
He didn't bother opening his eyes, but smiled. “I've been lying here for hours waiting for you to show up.”
“Uh-huh,” Kinkaid said.
Trey opened his eyes and watched as she entered the room.
“I wanted to make sure we weren't going to need the rubber room.”
“Oh,” he growled, “you tell that to all the crazy people?”
“Only the ones that need to hear it.”
“Quack,” he said.
Kinkaid stared at him, a mischievous grin on her face. It was infectious.
“So, what do you have to say for yourself?”
She bent down and looked at his chart. “Nothing serious. Been getting updates on you from the nurses every couple of hours. They say you slept like a baby.”
“Slept? Fuck,” he whispered, “more like they kicked my head in. What the fuck was that shit?”
“Just something to keep my favorite psycho asleep until I got here.”
“Ah,” Trey said. “So your bedside manner is only at your convenience?”
She put the clipboard down, her smile fading a bit. “You aren't my only patient, Trey. Just the only patient I'm currently interested in.”
“Quack,” he growled.
Kinkaid pulled over a chair and sat down beside him. “They've cleared your concussion. You're out of the woods.”
“Just like that?”
She nodded. “Just like that. Last time the nurse peered in your eyes and asked you your name, you actually passed the test.” She licked her lips. “Now let's talk about the hard stuff.”
He sighed. “You're going to commit me.”
The grin on her face disappeared. She sucked in a breath. “Trey? You checked yourself in. Even though you're in the hospital ward, that doesn't really mean much. You asked me to more or less admit you for treatment, and that's what we're doing.” Trey said nothing. “Do you remember the last time we did this?”
“Yes,” Trey said, his voice flat. “You asked me to admit myself. And I did.”
She nodded. “And I let you out again, didn't I?” He said nothing. “Last time you'd hurt yourself. You'd hurt your wife.” She paused. “Do you want to do that again?”
“Fuck no,” Trey said at once, his voice loud in the quiet room.
Kinkaid didn't flinch, but her smile returned. “Good. Now. Do you have any questions?”
“Just until the delusions pass?”
She nodded, her smile growing sad. “Yes. Once we're sure you're not going to have any more hallucinations, I'll kick your ass out of here.” She chuckled. “I like my favorite psycho being on the streets. It's good for my reputation.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Trey, there's someone I would like to bring in on your treatment.” She paused again, staring into his eyes, unblinking. “Is that okay?”
“Who?”
“You'll meet him tomorrow, if you agree. I think you'll like him.”
“Okay,” he said. “Guess I'm going to have to sign something?”
She shrugged. “Actually, I'm going to have Carolyn sign something. Although it's really just a formality. I wanted to get your consent, though. Don't want you wasting anybody's time by being more of a pain in the ass than you already are.”
“Okay, fine. I give you my verbal consent to bring in someone else to fuck with my brain.”
“Good,” she said with a laugh. “The more quacks, the better, right?”
The smile was getting to him again. His lips turned upward of their own accord. “Bring in a fucking flock of geese if you think it's going to help.”
“Sure. I will, believe me. Now,” she said and pulled a notebook from her valise, “can you talk to me about your visitor?”
He shivered and turned away from her toward the side of the bed where the thing had been. “What do you want to know?”
“Can you describe him to me?”
Trey shrugged and looked back at her. “It was the ice cream man, again. But...”
“But, what? What did he say to you?”
That voice. The rasping voice. The green eyes. “You dirty, little boy! You're coming back with me! Or I'll split you in half like I should have!”
The shiver wracked his entire body. The voice echoed in his brain. “He told me he was going to take me back.”
She furrowed a brow. “Back? He was going to take you back? Where?” she asked.
“I-- I don't know,” he whispered.
She nodded and scribbled in the notebook. She dropped it to her knees, her hands clasped atop it. “You remembered something this time, didn't you?”
“Yes,” he said. “The voice. It was-- I've heard it before.” He looked away from her again, staring at the half-open door. “I just can't remember where,” Trey whispered.
“Shhh. It's okay, Trey.” She clucked her tongue. “Do you remember who you were talking to last time you had an incident?” He shook his head. She picked up the notebook, thumbed through the pages until she encountered a sticky note. “According to Carolyn, you said 'You leave him the fuck alone.'“ She looked up at him. “Does that mean anything to you?”
Trey thought for a moment. Who the hell had he been talking to? That voice. The rasp.
“I was telling him to leave Alan alone.”
She inched forward in the chair, leaning toward him. “Who were you telling, Trey? Who?”
“The-- The man,” he whispered.
A tall figure, dressed in jeans that smelled like dirt and oil, a soiled denim jacket covering broad shoulders. Dirt encrusted work boots. A belt swinging from one hand. Frantic green eyes staring with malevolence.
The sound of snapping fingers caught his attention and he looked over at her. “Still with me?” she asked, her brows furrowed. “Still with me, Trey?”
He swallowed hard. “How long this time?”
She shrugged. “About a minute. What did you see?”
“The-- The man.” His vision began to blur..
“Stay with me, Trey,” she whispered.
His vision snapped back, the world once again solidifying around him.
“I need you to take some deep breaths, okay? Deep breath.” She pulled in a lungful of air and held it. As he watched her, he found himself doing the same. She exhaled slowly, Trey following suit. “Good,” she said. “Keep doing that for a moment, okay?” Trey nodded. “Now close your eyes.”
The room disappeared behind his lids. He heard her shift in her chair, but continued the breathing. Th
e world spun a little and then righted itself. Alan's face floated across his mind.
“Now,” she said, “can you picture the man?”
Alan's face melted, a long nose pushing its way through the boy's smile, long teeth crunching through his cheeks. Trey opened his eyes and sat up in bed, screaming.
Chapter 31
The final bell rang. The twenty children in the room had been shifting in their seats the last ten minutes. Even as the teacher read aloud from their history text, Alan knew none of the class was listening.
All he'd heard at lunch that day was about the Ice Cream Man. Kids talking about how nice he was, how he helped them count out the change, and always had something to recommend.
Alan said nothing while his classmates blathered on about the Ice Cream Man. When they asked why he hadn't met the Ice Cream Man, Alan had only shrugged-- he didn't want to tell them.
It was at recess, though, when the day had gotten bad. He was playing on the monkey bars, throwing one hand in front of the other, swinging across them in the darkened afternoon when Jimmy Keel walked over with his three friends. The rest of the children knew they were the bullies, the ones who would trip you when you were late to class, or steal your lunch. They were bigger. Mean. Jimmy was the largest of the group and by far the worst.
“Hey, freak,” Keel called to him as Alan stepped off the monkey bars. Alan said nothing, ignoring him and going to the other end to start again. “Hey, freak, I'm talking to you,” Keel said from behind him.
Alan continued to say nothing. He just put one hand in front of the other, swinging from one metal bar to the next.
“Your dad is shit-house nuts,” Keel growled.
Alan dropped from the monkey bars, landing on his feet beneath the horizontal metal ladder. A sudden flush of heat had filled him. His skin had become volcanic, cheeks burning with... What? Rage? Embarrassment? He turned, listening to Keel's laughter.
The other three boys with him looked at one another, giggling.
“What did you say?” Alan asked in his high-pitched voice.
Keel stepped forward with slow, deliberate steps. His savage smile displayed all of his ivory teeth. “I said your dad is shit-house nuts.” Keel advanced a few more steps until he stood just in front of Alan, his face staring down into Alan's flushed face. “What do you say to that?”