Jimmy cocked his head, waiting. "Hear what?"
Daniel paused. He scanned the mossy trunks, waiting for the vegetation to move. Waiting for the bark to ripple as it had seconds earlier. Nothing happened. "Nevermind," he said, biting his lip.
Jimmy chuckled. There was a nervous, high-pitched lilt to his laugh. "C'mon, man. Let's keep going..." They jogged to catch up with the others.
Dennis and Teddy reached the staircase first. They glanced back, suddenly aware of how shadows crowded the porch, dark and unmoving. They resembled human figures, huddled together in the darkness of the covered patio.
The tough guys searched the faces of their peers. Their eyes said it all: They were just as scared as Daniel. They gripped the wooden railing that ascended the stairs to the pillared wrap-around porch. The archway was fit for a cathedral, aside from the mold that speckled the wood and the peelings of paint that hung in large chunks, fluttering in the breeze. With a gulp, Teddy and Dennis climbed the stairs. The other children followed, close behind.
Daniel jumped when a wooden stair broke with a loud crack, splitting under his foot. The others looked back with smirks on their faces as if to say "Smooth move, dork." But no one said a word as they reached the top step and the shadows retreated to the far side of the porch.
The crickets stopped chirping on Pennington Hill. Everything went silent, save for the nervous breathing of the children and another noise, like the raspy wheezing of a thousand creatures, so quiet you could barely make it out. And it was coming from the shadows.
Sally grabbed the rusty door knocker. She tried desperately to steady her hand as she thudded the metal ring three times. She couldn't let the boys see how nervous she was. She stifled a gasp when the door knocker blinked its beady eyes. She glanced around. No one else had seen it aside from Sally and Daniel, but the copper lion, green in its old age, had blinked its eyes as she banged on the door.
The door creaked open without so much as a push. The large marble foyer was covered in dust and dimly lit by tall candelabras. Daniel's eyes adjusted, and he realized the flames flickered atop piles of bones. Each candelabra was mounted to a grotesque stack of skulls, layered together like bricks in a pillar. While his friends admired the "special effects", Daniel was pretty sure he spied a skull with some of the flesh still attached. A rotted eyeball dangled from the socket by a wet, pink thread. It all looked too real to be safe.
The man who had delivered the invitations stood dead center, in a ring of candlelight. Flames danced in the dark, sunken sockets above his jagged cheek bones, mirroring the fire from the candles. He wasn't wearing his top hat, and his white hair hung in thinning patches from his sickly, pale scalp. Blue veins showed through his nearly translucent skin as he pressed a hand to his abdomen and bowed.
The man stepped forward. His black suit reminded Daniel of the shadow people.
He could see them, dark figures huddled together in the inky blackness of the hallway. The man's voice was a low growl as he spoke. "Sally," he said, nodding in her direction. "Teddy, Danny..." His pale face studied the children, thin lips pulled taut over his ghoulish, pointed teeth. "Johnny and Jimmy..." His dark eyes settled on Daniel. "and... who do we have here?" He clasped his spindly fingers together in a steeple-like formation and slanted his thin eyebrows at Daniel.
The shadows deep within the house, past the ring of candlelight and hiding in the darkness, seemed to pulsate and stir. Their collective breathing rose higher in volume, yet it was still barely audible, like a gust of wind whistling through the old mansion. Human forms stirred in the hallways, writhed in the nothingness of the staircase. Daniel was positive he saw a pair of red eyes staring at him from the abyss.
"What's your name?" the strange white-haired man asked.
"D-Daniel," he replied.
"I'm afraid, Daniel, you must go back the way you came. This party is invitation only." He leaned over, and his sour breath made Daniel's skin crawl. "No exceptions."
Blackness spilled from the halls, from the vaulted archway of the staircase. Darkness crept into the light and extinguished candle flames as it moved. A shadowy fog enveloped the room. Red eyes opened inside the massive shadow that rolled in, an ominous wave of contorted human figures. A thousand eyes stared at Daniel, like rubies shining in the blackest of nights.
The shadows rushed at Daniel. Hundreds of fingers and dozens of palms shot out from the hazy black mist, pushing him. Their collective force caused him to sway and trip over his own foot, toppling backwards onto the moonlit patio. He felt a gust of air as the heavy door slammed, and a chorus of screams erupted from his friends.
Daniel scrambled to his feet. He cleared the stairs in five steps, avoiding the broken plank and leaping onto the leafy stone path. He dashed into the tunnel of gnarled branches. He didn't look around as he ran. If he did, he might see more of those things lurking in the shadows. And he never wanted to see one again. So he kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, focusing on the beam of moonlight at the end of the tunnel.
He emerged from the canopy of twisted tree limbs, falling to his knees in the grass. He could see the gravel road leading into town. Small buildings in the distance, at the foot of Pennington Hill, were beginning to turn out their lights. The moonlight was dimming, swallowed by a layer of clouds.
Daniel dug around in his jacket. He pulled the walkie talkie from his pocket. His shaky fingers fumbled, almost dropping the device as he flipped the power switch to "on".
A scream rattled through the speakers. One of the boys was crying, hysterical, coughing and wheezing in fear. A blood curdling yelp poured from the walkie talkie, closer than before. Daniel thought it sounded like Sally.
Someone yelled, "Let me go!" It was a distant echo on the staticy air waves.
Then another boy spoke. This one was closer, louder. "Why are you doing this?" Jimmy pleaded.
The man's answer rumbled over the air waves like a crack of thunder. His bassy growl shook the device. It rattled in Daniel's hand, and he dropped it to the grass. "We are the evil eaters. We feed on evil souls." The children all screamed in unison. There was a loud thud. The walkie talkie squealed, then fell silent.
The morning of November 1st dawned bright and sunny. Daylight shined through the wispy clouds. Birds chirped as they poked their beaks through the dirt, searching for food.
Daniel paced back and forth. He had arrived at the bus stop fifteen minutes early, something he hadn't accomplished in the history of his school days. But after a sleepless night of watching the clock and waiting for morning to arrive, he was up before his alarm clock that day.
Daniel's eyes scanned the row of neatly mowed lawns, the trimmed hedges that lined the curb. A paper boy peddled a bicycle down the street. A small dog yelped from behind a picket fence.
Daniel tried not to stare, but his vision kept settling on one house: Jimmy's. He paced a straight line, gazing up at Jimmy's front door every time he spun around. One thought repeated in his mind: He is dead. My best friend is dead.
Jimmy's front door opened, and Daniel caught a glimpse of his ginger hair. Jimmy stepped from the patio, his freckled skin looking pale in the sunlight. He plodded down the length of his driveway with a spring in his step, his portly body bouncing toward the street. Daniel had never seen Jimmy walk that way before, like a small child with too much energy.
Daniel waved as Jimmy stepped onto the sidewalk and headed toward the bus stop. He knew Jimmy wouldn't return the gesture, probably even make fun of him for waving like a little kid, but he was so relieved to see his friend alive, he didn't care. Jimmy smiled at him—a closed lip, timid smile. Not his usual shit-eating grin. Then he extended his chubby hand into the air and waved.
Daniel waited for his friend to reach the street corner. "Uh... hey. How's it goin'?" he asked.
"Hi!" Jimmy opened his hand and wiggled his fingers in the air, waving a second time. He smiled with his mouth closed and shoved his hands into his pockets. This wasn't like Jimmy, whose grin often reminded Daniel of the
Mad Hatter, who tossed pebbles and drew invisible pictures on the pavement with sticks, anything to keep his hands busy. It was odd to see him standing there: quietly, patiently.
"So about last night..." Daniel began.
"Oh, I know. I regret my actions, Daniel. Vandalizing property like that.... and taking candy from those children. It was terrible of me, and I apologize."
Daniel's mouth hung open as he attempted to respond. He blinked his eyes and slowly shook his head. "No... uh... the other part of the night. That house."
"Ah, yes. It was wonderful! I'm so sorry you couldn't stay."
Daniel's skin crawled with unease as he studied his friend. By every physical law, Jimmy Hannigan stood before him. The same voice. The same hazel eyes and rotund, freckled face. But something had changed. Those eyes lacked a certain twinkle that made Jimmy so very... Jimmy.
"It's a beautiful day, Daniel. I think I'll walk to school." Jimmy turned and began to walk away, and that's when Daniel knew. This wasn't Jimmy. He never walked to school instead of taking the bus. He never did anything the hard way. And the apologies. Two apologies in one morning. Jimmy never said sorry... for anything. Not once in the entirety of their friendship.
Daniel watched Jimmy disappear down the sidewalk, and he felt as though his best friend had died. The bus rolled up, filling the air with exhaust fumes. A set of yellow doors swung open. Daniel shook his head and boarded the bus, feeling more alone than ever. He knew, the evil eaters had changed Jimmy. They had sucked the Jimmy right out of his soul.
A tear rolled down Daniel's cheek. He wiped it with the back of his hand. Thirty-six years later it still bothered him to remember that strange Halloween. Jimmy Hannigan had disappeared that night, replaced by a shell of a boy.
Daniel stood at the foot of his mother's bed. He stared blankly at the red card that looked so much like Jimmy Hannigan's invitation. It was identical in every way, except for the words:
"Do you have a troubled child? Do you pray they will change their incorrigible ways? Look no further. We are a group of mystery men who guarantee results within the week. 100% pain free. Your child will not be harmed. We work swiftly and discreetly. Enjoy your family life. Have a loving child again. Sign the dotted line and return to the nearest mailbox. (No postage is required.)"
Jimmy's parents had received the same card as his mother. In that moment, Daniel knew it was true. All the parents of the “bad kids” were offered an easy fix. Teddy, Sally, Dennis, Johnny: they never stood a chance.
Jimmy Hannigan had graduated with honors and went on to college. He had started a family and made his parents proud. He probably sat in an office somewhere, making good money but lacking a soul. And that is the most valuable thing of all, thought Daniel. Just ask the evil eaters.
Daniel walked the card over to the box marked "keep". It would serve as an important reminder. His mother had protected him, accepted him, even when offered an easy solution.
He hadn't failed her. She had always been proud.
The Patch
Steve rolled to a stop at a fork in the road and turned to Aiyana. She blinked her warm, mahogany eyes, lips painted a glossy red. He couldn't fathom why she wanted to spend their first date out here in the middle of nowhere, but he was grateful that she did.
“Which way?” he asked. She nodded to the right, and he eased the old truck around the bend.
A legion of crickets chirped as they passed haphazard rows of pumpkins. The Autumn breeze was crisp. It carried the ripe, earthy scent of crops and rustled the leaves on their vines. The pumpkins seemed to grow taller and fatter the deeper into the patch they drove.
His gaze drifted once again to Aiyana. She was dressed as a Native American princess, and she looked every bit the part. Her high cheek bones and sable hair, stunning eyebrows and dark olive skin really tied the costume together. She sat with her feet propped up on the dash, wiggling her toes, and Steve fought the urge to trace the curves of her legs with his eyes.
“Great costume.”
“Thanks. Real original, huh?” She giggled. “I never celebrated Halloween as a kid, so when it comes to dressing up, I guess I decided to stick with what's familiar.” She looked down at her toes. “It's sad, really, if you think about it. To see the bead-work, the beautiful fringed pelts and handwoven garments of my people reduced to this... a cheap cotton miniskirt with knotted tassels and an elastic headband with artificial feathers glued to the front.” She rolled her eyes. “The package even said 'Sexy Indian'.”
Steve wasn't sure how to respond, so he watched the pumpkins roll by outside his window. They looked plumper and rounder as they traveled. He'd seen a photo of a 2,000-pound pumpkin once, and he thought some of these looked just as big, if not bigger.
He wondered how much further they had to go. Aiyana had insisted on coming here. She said the stars shined brighter in the middle of this field than anywhere else in Michigan. Yet, something about being alone with these gourds, which were five and even ten times his size... it unnerved him.
“So—uh—what tribe did your family belong to?”
“Not 'did'. We are Wyandot. Grandfather reminds me every day. Most of my ancestors were forced to move during the Indian Removal Act of 1830, but those of us who remain strive to honor our heritage.”
He shook his head. “I'm sorry to hear that. About your family moving away.”
She looked at him, the side of her mouth forming a half-smirk. She leaned close and put a hand on his thigh. “I like you,” she whispered in his ear.
Lightning flickered, illuminating the clouds. Steve recognized it as heat lightning, because it wasn't accompanied by rain or thunder. The night sky flashed like a strobe light behind rows of enormous pumpkins. The wind picked up, whipping the leaves.
Steve's skin tingled where she touched him. Her fingers felt amazing, even through his jeans. He wondered how much further he had to drive. She nuzzled her soft hair against his shoulder, and her closeness made his heart begin to pound.
That's when he noticed it—a strange movement in the fields. The pumpkins seemed to swell and pulsate, throbbing in time with his heart. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, but the motion continued, a rhythmic vibration up and down the rows.
They came to a clearing at the end of the road. Massive pumpkins formed a circle around it. Steve couldn't see anything beyond those giant gourds, and he suddenly felt very small. He barely had time to put the truck in park and kill the engine before Aiyana sprang from her seat, leaving the door hanging open.
She danced through the clearing, heading for a large, flat stone near its center. Her hips swayed, body undulating to the tempo of the strange, silent lightning that lit up the clouds. And the clouds, they swirled unnaturally fast.
And then—he couldn't believe it—Aiyana gripped the bottom of her brown halter top and yanked it over her head. She stood atop the flat rock, topless and dancing. She beckoned with her finger for Steve to come.
He practically leaped from the truck. He approached her, stepping onto the stone.
She wiggled her hips, moved close to him. “You're not shy,” he said, smiling.
“No, I am proud to be woman.” She lifted her chin. “Wyandot legend says that the first human was a woman who fell from the heavens.”
“Just like you,” he said. She grinned at him, gyrating her hips.
The lightning flashed, casting eerie shadows across her features. Her rhythmic movements were fluid and hypnotic. Steve couldn't look away. “This woman who fell from the sky, she gave birth to a daughter who gave birth to twin boys. One of the boys was evil and decided to kill his mother during childbirth.” She smiled. “I know, this all sounds like nonsense, but my favorite part is next...” She did a spin, then faced him again. “The first crops sprang from her body when she was buried in the earth. Maize from her chest. Beans from her legs. And the pumpkins... they grew from her head.”
Aiyana threw herself into the dance. All around, the pumpkins thumped like the beating of a
thousand hearts. Their steady rhythm grew louder.
The Tooth Collector (and Other Tales of Terror) Page 6