Harvest Moon

by James A. Moore

  Barry stared past the man and looked out into the hallway leading to the rest of the police station. The institutional green bars didn’t bother him anymore. They were just a little decoration as far as he was concerned. Through the door that separated the lockup from the rest of the world, he could hear his father’s angry tones. The small taste of witch’s milk that still lingered in his mouth made even that seem okay. His father wasn’t nearly as tough as he thought he was.

  “When will she tell us what she needs, Alan?”

  “Soon, Barry. Soon. Just be patient. The Harvest Moon isn’t until tomorrow.”

  “What happens then?”

  Treacher blinked. “Why, I thought you knew. That’s when Alvina is coming home again. And when we will be rewarded.”

  Barry stared at the wall beyond the iron bars and nodded, a dreamy smile creeping over his lips. “Good. That’s good. I can’t wait to meet her.”

  “I know she wants to meet you, too.” Treacher continued to perch on his bed, his chin resting on his knees, and closed his eyes as if ready to sleep. A moment later, Barry joined him.

  They were still in the same position an hour later when Barry’s father finally managed to get in to see his son. It was not a happy reunion. In the end, Barry stayed where he was, while his very angry father stormed out of the police offices.

  Chapter Seven

  I

  Night came in fits and starts, the last of the sun’s light sporadically buried behind thick clouds that threatened to spill a heavy rain, but never delivered on that threat. And with the end of the day, the goblins came out to play. Oh, not the mythical creatures of old, to be sure, but just as destructive.

  David Reyes and his brother Alex had waited all year for the chance to get away with some serious mayhem, and nothing, not even a little rain, was going to stop them. They were supposed to be going to the carnival at the private school and they probably would get there, eventually, but they had better things to do right now. There were four dozen rotten eggs and over twenty rolls of Charmin waiting in the woods behind them and they knew exactly where to use them. They had made up a list a long time ago and now, at last, they were out for a little revenge against the adults of Beldam Woods.

  First up for the night was Eli Waters. Most of the kids in town now knew that Douglas Habersham was dead, and if anyone in town didn’t know about how Old Man Waters felt about Halloween and about the deceased librarian, it was because they just weren’t paying any attention to the world around them. Habersham was dead, and while they would never get to hear him tell his stories again, they could at least give him a proper send off.

  They crept out of the woods, wearing all black and ready for action, just at the edge of the old man’s property. David held the eggs. Alex had the three rolls of toilet paper. At his urgings, David—often called the “portly” one by people complaining to the Reyes parents—set down the eggs and took a roll of facial quality ass wipes from Alex. They barely managed not to break into laughter as they started hurling the white streamers into the ancient oak tree that Waters was always so proud of. Inside of five minutes it looked like winter had come and snowed the hell out of that one tree. If there was a branch that wasn’t covered in at least two layers of tissue, it wasn’t for lack of the trying.

  David panted like an overheated bulldog—a comparison that many had made to his round face and short crew cut hair as well—and grinned at his younger brother. “I’m gonna throw them. You knock on his door.”

  “No way, dude!” His voice was a loud hiss, and when he realized just how loud, Alex calmed himself down. “Just throw them at his door and run.”

  “I can’t aim that good.”

  “Then let me throw them.”

  “Forget it. They’re my eggs. I bought ’em. Just knock on his door, you big baby.”

  “There’s no way I’m getting myself caught so you can have all the fun.” David sometimes thought he was the boss of everyone. What Alex knew and what he didn’t tell his brother, was that nobody really liked David very much. He was heavy, he smelled bad, and he was a borderline bully.

  “You’re such a pussy, man.” David spat and hauled his pants back up to their proper position.

  “Fuck you, just throw your eggs, you loser.”

  “I’m not the loser, you are!” That one was too loud and they both knew it. David looked from the eggs in his hand to the front of the house and then to his brother. Even as he opened his mouth to say something, the front porch light came on. Any second now, Eli Waters would open the door to his little ranch house and see them if they didn’t move. David threw the first egg, which rolled through the air and missed the house entirely, crashing into the side window of the Ford Taurus parked in the driveway.

  “Oh shit!” Alex ran. He wanted nothing to do with getting busted for egging a car. He’d heard that egg would peel the paint right off of a car, and even if it had been David that told him that, he wasn’t willing to risk it being true.

  David watched his brother run and stared at the three remaining eggs in his hand, his eyes going wide at the thought of being caught by Eli Waters. He hurled all three missiles through the air with a throw that would have shamed any little leaguer and ran as fast as he could. All three eggs managed to find their marks despite the lack of any real skill on David’s part, exploding across the front stoop of the house and the front door, which the old man opened half a second later.

  The old man’s face wrinkled in disgust at the smell of rotten eggs, and gagging as he was, he held the portable headset from his phone in his hand and dialed 911. He would, by God, see the miscreants punished this time around.

  David and Alex stopped almost a full block away on Sullivan Street, where the rich folks had their massive homes. From here on out, there would be a risk of getting in trouble if they got caught doing anything too stupid. But that was half the fun, as long as it just remained a risk.

  From house to house the displays of colorful decorations were as radical and overwhelming as would be found in most areas at Christmas, but with a darker edge. One house had a cemetery; another sported over fifteen mannequins in costumes, with heads ranging from a vampire all the way to a pretty convincing Freddy Krueger. Just down the way someone had been reading their classic Bradbury literature and adorned a massive old oak tree with hundreds of jack-o-lanterns that glowed in the darkness.

  The decorations were cool to look at, and they already knew they wouldn’t be hitting any of these houses, but they carried their bags of destruction close to their chests and thought hard about it. A few years back the Horowitz place had been vandalized by the older brother of David and Alex and the next three years running there had been no decorations at the house. The only indication of Halloween spirit was the sign apologizing for the fact that vandals had ruined the desire to decorate. The Horowitzes were nice people and generous with their candy—which was also forfeited for the three years—and so everyone had taken the hint. Don’t fuck with Sullivan Street.

  “Who’s next on the list?” Alex decided not to push things with David on this one, but the next house, he’d throw the eggs, or he’d just go on to the carnival and Haunted Hayride without David. He’d learned a long time ago not to let his older brother hold all the money, because as far as David was concerned, money was just another way to control his younger sibling.

  “Carson’s place. That fucker went too far, man. He’s gotta pay.” David’s round face was set in a pout. It always got that expression when he thought about Everett Carson. The man had kicked them off of the pharmacy property when they spent two hours hanging around. And then he’d done it the next weekend too. Why? Because he seemed to know that David was building up the nerve to steal a handful of candy bars. David was not nimble and he was not graceful. What he was, contrary to his beliefs, was pudgy and uncoordinated. He hated that fact, and he hated Carson knowing what he was thinking.

  Carson lived at the far end of Sullivan Street, and unlike most of the ho
uses around the area, he didn’t bother with Halloween, except as a sales tool for the pharmacy. So it was okay to trash his place, because it wasn’t like he was going to give out any candy in the first place.

  Everett Carson lived in a massive old house with three stories and five gables. He had a wife, Minnie, three sons: Everett Junior, Whit, and Billy, and a daughter the same age as David. David had the hots for Regina Carson. Gina (as her friends were allowed to call her) thought he was a disgusting pig and made it clear to her pals, normally just loud enough for David to hear. Gina was a good looking girl, and she and Alex got along fine; just not when David was around. Still, her father was a dick and so they had to be punished. Alex nodded and grabbed up his rolls of toilet paper.

  He’d changed his mind. David could egg this one. Alex couldn’t bring himself to throw an egg at Gina’s house. Any girl who’d let him touch her panties on three separate occasions was off limits for getting egged in his book. A man has to have his standards.

  David didn’t have any problem with that notion. Of course, he’d never touched Gina’s panties, either. He just wanted to cause as much trouble as he could safely manage to as many of the people on his shit list as he could reach in one single night. So far he hadn’t made it anywhere near the sheer numbers he was aiming for.

  The toilet paper went off without a hitch. It was best to do the paper first, because it really didn’t make much noise. The rosebushes in front of the house were covered in paper and if there was any rain at all, they’d be an unholy bitch to clean up. Alex didn’t mind that too much. He was cool with that sort of mess. Besides, odds were good it would be done by one of the three people employed to clean up messes around the place, not by Gina.

  It was when they got to the eggs that things started going badly.

  There was a loud snapping sound, like a sail on a boat catching the edge of a hard wind. Both boys looked around, but saw nothing. Still, it made them edgy. The problem with being vandals, even on Mischief Night, was that the police were rather unforgiving.

  David hissed at Alex and gesticulated wildly as if to say “be silent” at the top of his lungs. Alex ignored him and stood perfectly still, listening for any new sounds. After thirty seconds, David grew impatient and started toward the house again. Alex tried to wave him back, uncertain if he’d heard another sound, but David ignored him.

  And then something BIG stepped around the side of the palatial building. The strange sounds came from the dark mass that towered almost fifteen feet in height. Alex stared at the thing, trying to decide if it was a Halloween prop or maybe a tree that was slowly falling down. The darkness was too deep for his eyes to penetrate completely. It was almost as tall as the second-story windows and moved with a creaking noise, like a rotted porch threatening to collapse under unexpected weight. It was different from the previous odd sound and came from a different direction.

  Alex tried to call to his brother, but his voice didn’t want to work. David was looking at the house and Alex could tell from the expression on his round face that he was going to throw his missiles any second.

  And it wasn’t funny, but it was, because the big thing that was heading toward Alex was going to be in exactly the wrong spot in about three more steps. And David hadn’t seen it.

  “David!” It was supposed to be a shout. It was a good, solid yell in his mind. What came out was little more than a squeak, past the heavy tense feeling in Alex’s throat.

  David cocked his hand back and let fly with the first of his eggs. It sailed perfectly through the air, as if he’d thrown a softball that was meant to hit its target as if guided by God Almighty’s divine hand.

  The egg ripped through the air, perfectly placed to strike the front door. Then it hit whatever the hell was walking through the front yard instead. The egg exploded with a satisfactory crunching noise.

  There wasn’t even a delay factor. The egg exploded against a thigh comprised of bones that rubbed together where muscles should have been and the next second, David was screaming as something massive slammed through his arm and pinned him to the lawn. From where he stood, it looked to Alex like someone had fired a harpoon through the air. David writhed, then thrashed, trying to move away from the pain and failing miserably. The massive thing in the front yard of the house hauled back with one misshapen arm and David was reeled in closer to it, his face a study in pain and his voice sounding like nothing so much as a piglet being grabbed and hauled into the air.

  David watched, dumbstruck, his mind refusing to accept what he was seeing, because it looked like there was a gigantic statue made of human bones that was dragging his brother closer and closer. David vanished into the shadows at the monster’s feet, but his whimpering continued.

  Old Bones! Old Bones is real!

  Alex finally snapped out of his paralysis around the same time David stopped making any noise at all. He ran hard, not away from where his brother was suffering or worse, but straight at the silence and the giant that held David in its massive, misshapen hands. If asked if he cared that much for his brother he would have denied it, but here he was, risking life and limb for the boy who was often a pain in the collective sides of teachers and students alike. Hell, for the older brother who was notorious for getting him into trouble.

  He ran hard, and as his feet slapped across the perfectly manicured lawn and trampled over an array of Halloween decorations, he let out a mixed scream of rage and fear that came out sounding like the screech of balding tires in a heavy rain.

  He never even got close. Long before he could commit suicide—however unintentionally—Alex felt powerful hands grab his shoulders and bring him to a full halt in an instant. The sudden stop was so harsh that his head snapped back and forth like a crash test dummy in a high speed SUV test.

  The sun had long since set, which was what allowed Dave and Alex to commit their few acts of vandalism in relative safety. Unfortunately, it also stopped Alex from seeing his attacker clearly. All he could make out was the jack-o-lantern face that glowered at him, looming far above his own four feet, seven inches in height.

  Alex’s attempt at a battle cry became a gasp, and he recoiled as the burning holes in the gourd lowered down to stare at him. Pumpkin flesh should not, as a rule in the world of Alex Reyes, be able to move the way the carved image did. He tried to get away from the monstrous thing, but it held him tightly; long, tapered wooden fingers digging into his soft flesh and almost cutting through the black jacket he was wearing.

  “Where are you going, boy?” The voice was colder than the night air, and echoed from deep within the jack-o-lantern. The glare from inside that hollowed space was bright enough to burn his eyes, but the hellish green flames that flickered and danced inside it gave off a frigid breath rather than any sort of heat. “You trying to be a hero and save your friend?”

  Alex stuttered in response, unable to form the words he wanted, his face almost painfully cold where the flames licked from the gaping maw of the pumpkin-headed thing. The thing lifted him up into the air until they were eye to eye. He knew who he was looking at, would have known Patches anywhere, just as he’d known Old Bones. And he knew without doubt that he was dead. The Pumpkin Man killed a lot of kids way back when and here he was, ready to do it all over again.

  Alex swung wildly, trying to hit the monster in what passed for its face as his brother screamed again. His fist met with nothing but air, but an instant later he felt his shoulders released and then felt the sharpened wooden fingers grab his scalp, pulling his short hair halfway out of his head.

  “Now, now…” The voice echoed from the depths of the gourd-head, like a hissed curse from a deep sewer. “Wouldn’t want to get yourself into a lather. Your friend isn’t dead. Not yet at least.” Alex tried swinging again, but couldn’t get the thing in reach. The creature hauled him into the air and hurled him toward David, the mouth of its face stretching even wider in the process. “But don’t you fret. I’ll make sure he’s dead before the night is over.”
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  Alex hit the ground hard and rolled over three times before he stopped against the side of the house. He did not roll gently, but bounced across the ground as he went. Something in his left knee made a popping noise and then he felt a lightning bolt of pain lance through the leg surrounding that new injury.

  He tried to stand and felt the world fade away to a dull, distracting noise for a few moments. The idea of doing anything at all was ludicrous. Not that he was given any sort of options in the matter. The behemoth standing not ten feet away looked over at him; its head made of what looked like half a dozen skulls broken and fused together by God alone knew what sort of hellish glue. Somewhere deep in the broken and reformed pits that made the eye sockets, there was a dark green glow that almost matched the flames burning in the pumpkin-thing’s face.

  And then it finally dawned on him what, exactly, he was seeing. The Pumpkin Man! Oh shit, the Pumpkin Man is real, too! Alex’s eyes flew wide open as he remembered the stories that Douglas Habersham used to tell them. There were morals, rules in those stories, and he and David had ignored them completely on this of all nights. Halloween was only a day away and they were out breaking the rules that were supposed to keep children safe from the witch’s children.

  “Oh God! Please! We’re sorry! We’ll go home! We’ll be good, I swear it!” At the mention of God, Old Bones seemed to flinch deep within his bony armor. And Alex, perhaps not as wise as he wanted to think he was, tried to take advantage of that. A few years earlier he and several of his friends had discussed monsters and how to get rid of them. Josh Kinder had been going through a weird time in his life right then and swore that you could call on Jesus to save you from any demon, which it said so in the Bible, though Alex had never found out exactly where—looking was required, and that was far too much like effort. He tried to stand up, but his left knee disagreed and dropped him back to the ground.