The Toymaker

by Sergio Gomez

  “Going to… going to take care of business.” Jarod said, and nodded. “Yeah, take care of business.”

  Handing him the box of ammo, Pauly winked at him. “I understand.”

  Jarod put the gun and ammo in his sweatshirt; the bulge they created in his front pocket made it obvious what he was trying to conceal. But that was alright, because he planned on keeping it in the car the whole time until he needed it. If he needed it.

  They walked back through the beads and then through the main part of the trailer until they were at the front door. Jimi Hendrix’s guitar solos had been replaced by Sublime’s tunes, and the gorgeous brunette had rolled over on her side.

  Jarod caught a glimpse of her ass cheeks hanging out of her shorts, and almost whistled.

  “You be careful with that,” Pauly said.

  Jarod thought he meant with his gaze on the girl’s butt, but then Pauly pointed at the gun in his sweatshirt. “With that, I mean.”

  “Oh. Right,” Jarod said, turning to leave. “I will.”

  “And remember,” Pauly said as Jarod went down the wooden stairs of his trailer, “you didn’t buy this from me.”

  Jarod waved to him without turning around. Excitement and adrenaline from the purchase coursed through him. Horniness from the gorgeous girl.

  The moment was rapturous. The only thing that could have brought him down was a stupid question from Poochie.

  Almost as if on cue, Poochie stuck his head out of the passenger window and said, “Hey, what’d you buy? Holy shit! is that a bong shaped like a gun?”

  Chapter 3

  Victor was in his living room, eating an orange. Each time something unfortunate happened to Rocko on TV, he would laugh and kick his feet against the sofa. The frame of the furniture had a loose piece of wood that rattled every time he did it.

  When that first happened, he’d felt bad. Then his dad told him it was okay, that they’d just get a new furniture set after Thanksgiving.

  Water under the bridge, he’d told Victor.

  The phone rang.

  “Mom!” Victor yelled up to her, thinking she was upstairs taking a bath. “Phone!”

  He waited to hear the squeak of the bathroom door opening, then his mother’s heavy footsteps as she went into the master bedroom to pick up the phone.

  But there was only silence.

  Oh yeah, it was Saturday. Dad was at work until 1pm and Mom was out shopping for the stuff she was making for Thanksgiving. He was home alone.

  Which meant it was his duty to deal with the telemarketers today. Or tell the utility companies or the bank or whoever was calling that his parents weren’t home.

  Great.

  Victor slid over on the couch and picked the phone up. “Hello?”

  “Is Victor there? Wait, Vic, is that you?” It was Twist on the line.

  “Yeah, it’s me. What’s up? We hanging out today?” Victor leaned over the couch to grab the remote off the armrest and turned the volume on the TV down.

  “Yeah,” Twist said, “when can you be at my neighborhood?”

  “Oh, I was thinking we could hang out at my house. My dad just bought me a new air hockey table—”

  “No, Vic. Listen, we have to go to Lake Myers.”

  “What? Why? It’s too cold to go swimming and we did that yesterday.”

  “Just listen to me and get your ass over here.” It sounded urgent.

  Vic looked into the kitchen where three twenty-dollar bills were magnetized to the fridge. There was a sticky note on top of them with the words “for pizza” scrawled in his mom’s handwriting. Mom always gave him too much money, or maybe he was supposed to tip the pizza guy a whole lot, either way he wasn’t going to use all of that for pizza.

  Vic cradled the phone closer to his ear and said, “What’s this about, Twist?”

  “Just hurry up. We need you.” There was a pause, then Twist added, “We’ll go to the arcades afterward.”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll be over in twenty or thirty minutes. How’s that sound?”

  “Great,” Twist said. “See you then.”

  The call ended on the other line, and Vic hit the receiver to end it on his side. Then he dialed his dad’s work phone.

  His dad picked up on the second ring. “Yes, Victor?”

  “Dad, can you call a taxi for me? I want to hang out with my friends.”

  “When?”

  “I need to get there in the next twenty minutes. And tell them to bring a car with a rack for my bike.”

  “Okay, okay, Victor. Does your mother know about this?”

  “No. I’ll call her after I hang up with you.”

  “Okay, you do that. But make sure you give your mother a call. You know how she can get.”

  “Yeah, Dad. I know.”

  “I’ll call you back to let you know how long until the taxi gets there.”

  “Thanks Dad, you’re the best.”

  Goddamnit, Poochie, Jarod thought, sliding into the driver’s seat.

  Poochie’s green eyes grew as big as Christmas ornaments, and his mouth gaped open. “Is that…is that real?”

  “Yeah, idiot. The ammo is too.” Jarod reached over Poochie to open the glove compartment to stash it all in.

  “What’re you—What’re you going to do with it, Jarod?”

  Poochie didn’t like this, didn’t like it one bit. Kicking Jamie’s ass, he was down with. Slap him around. Give him a black eye. Split his lip, whatever. If they got caught they might spend a night in the county jail with some drunks and shoplifters.

  But introducing a gun into the mix brought it to another level.

  State prison was a possibility now.

  “Don’t be a pussy,” Jarod said, sensing Poochie’s discomfort. He slammed the glove compartment shut. “Besides, you owe me for letting me get punked by those little shits back there.”

  Poochie shook his head. “Man, we can get thrown into prison if we kill someone. You know what they do to people in prison, Jarod? They assrape them—”

  Jarod smacked him upside the head. It sounded like a bat hitting a baseball in the acoustics of the car. “Shut up, Poochie. We’re not going to kill anyone. Maybe scare the fucker a little. But I’m not going to shoot him, okay?”

  Poochie scanned Jarod’s face to see if he was lying. He wasn’t sure, but Jarod wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  Poochie nodded and said, “OK” under his breath.

  Jarod threw the car in reverse and backed out onto the trailer park’s main road. Neither of them spoke the entire ride back to Poochie’s house.

  Chapter 4

  They were gathered at the rocks by the lake bank again. In a feat of coincidence, they sat in the same spots they had been situated in yesterday. The major difference of this meeting was that all five of the kids felt a cape of heaviness and gravity weighing over them.

  It wasn’t just five friends hanging out, bonding over a nice Fall day by Lake Myers like yesterday. It was like they were on some sort of quest, guided by an unknown force, for an unknown reason, to wake something unknown to them.

  But somehow, they knew they had to do this.

  The same way Raymond Gibson had felt a connection with Lucas, the five children felt a connection with the presence in the tunnel.

  It hadn’t taken much to convince Victor of this supernatural force considering it’d been four against one. He didn’t like being the odd man out—and he hoped Twist would think he was cooler for going through with this, even if this all turned out to be bullshit, so he went along with it easily.

  “No cigs this time,” Gina said to them. She wanted to get right down to what they were here for and skip the fluff.

  The group all glanced at one another. Jack and Victor nodded in agreement. Twist shrugged.

  “Speak for yourself, Homeschool,” Tommy said, fishing out a pack of Marlboros from his jacket “I need a cig for this one. Anybody else?”

  They all shook their heads. He shrugged and put the pack back in his
jacket. Then he lit up his cigarette.

  “Alright, alright,” he cleared his throat. “This story is kind of spooky, just like the last one. But I know this one is true.”

  “How?” Twist asked.

  “Because, Twist my man. It was told to me by my uncle. My uncle doesn’t make things up.”

  The group all looked at one another with incredulous looks on their faces, then looked back at Tommy. He was unfazed by their distrust because he knew he would have their attention as soon as the tale started.

  Clearing his throat, he began...

  Chapter 5

  Dutch County

  1970

  She’d befriended her for the last two months. It hadn’t been easy because Megan was a sheltered, wary-of-everything, loner. To make matters worse, she was also smart, so Darcy had to really roll out the charm to get her to bring her defenses down.

  One week was all it took, because Megan had a secret that no one knew about. Not even her mother. Not even Father John.

  Only God himself knew that Megan never kissed a boy in her life, and had no desire to do so because she wanted to kiss girls.

  Although she’d had a few opportunities in the past—especially at summer camp when other girls were experimenting—she was much too bashful to have taken the plunge. But with Darcy, who one day had suddenly decided to give her attention and be her friend, she thought she might break the pattern.

  Megan knew Darcy played for that team because she’d dated Jessica Sarasota, the “bull dyke” of their high school, as the popular kids and the bullies had dubbed her.

  Getting attention from Darcy made Megan feel prettier, and she started wearing shorter skirts that week. The kind that went up above her knee by half an inch. Not any shorter than that, though. She didn’t want to look like a whore, she just wanted to show off a little more skin to draw more attention to herself.

  It seemed to have worked. At least, it’d worked on keeping Darcy’s attention.

  They’d become friends. Gone out for ice cream, gone to the skating rink, gone to Lake Myers for a swim. Darcy had convinced her to wear a two-piece swimsuit and they’d swam all afternoon that first weekend.

  It’d been nice, and each of the meetings had been just them, but nothing suggested that they were on dates. That was fine by Megan, though, considering she’d never had a sexual experience in her life, it was best to take things slow.

  Something between them shifted as they walked along Lake Myers four weeks after their friendship started. Megan wasn’t sure what it was, but it was like things were more serious than before. Maybe this was the time Darcy would make a move on her. Kiss her or hold her hand or even bring up the subject of what they were to each other.

  No matter what it was, Megan was sure that Darcy felt it too. She was almost shivering as they strolled through the paved path toward the fork up ahead. They hadn’t spoken much besides talking about physics class and how boring it all was, but that conversation only had so much steam. They’d grown quiet over five minutes ago.

  After taking them down a fork in the path, Darcy stopped. When she spoke, she seemed to be out of breath. “Let’s go into the tunnel.”

  Megan stared over at the tunnel. It was shallow, but she could tell even from this distance that there was enough darkness for some privacy. Her lips went dry from nervousness, and she licked at them.

  Sensing her discomfort, Darcy put her hand on Megan’s forearm. “Don’t worry, it’s not as scary as it looks.”

  Megan shook her head. “I’m not scared.”

  “Great,” Darcy said, sliding her hand down to Megan’s and grabbing it. Her hand was warmer than any hand she had ever touched. For a split-second guilt struck her, and she thought of turning her around and not going through with this.

  No, no. That’ll make me the bottom of the totem pole. The thought made Darcy clutch Megan’s hand tighter and walk her to the tunnel faster.

  She couldn’t help but feel bad the closer they drew to the underpass. She felt like someone leading a lamb to its execution—a poor lamb that had no idea what was going to happen.

  “Wow,” Megan said, her heart thumping in her chest from the rush of holding Darcy’s hand and from the anticipation of what would happen in this narrow space. “It’s a lot darker than it looks from out there.”

  “Sure is, Megan,” Darcy said.

  “I can barely see my own hand in front of me,” Megan laughed, holding her free hand up in front of her face.

  Externally, Darcy laughed, but on the inside, she mocked her. Hurr-hurr.

  From the other side of the tunnel, opposite of where they’d come in from, three shadowed figures approached them.

  Their steps echoed off the walls in unrhythmic click-clacks.

  Megan glanced over where the figures were coming from, then over at Darcy for an explanation.

  Darcy didn’t need to say anything. Megan’s eyes had adjusted to the lack of light and she could see Darcy’s facial expression. It said: These unexpected guests were only unexpected to her.

  Darcy had tricked the chubby girl for two months. Taken her on little dates and pretended to be romantically interested in her, all for a joke.

  Cassandra was one of the three people walking up to them. She was the real love of Darcy’s life. The one she adored. The one she worshipped. It was kind of pathetic.

  “Good job, Darce,” Cassandra said, drawing closer to the two girls. “I’ll take over from here.”

  “Who—who are you?” Megan said. Then to Darcy, “Darcy, who are they?”

  “Ah, don’t fret,” Cassandra said, stopping in front of the girl.

  She reached out and stroked a tear rolling down the girl’s face, past the rim of her glasses.

  One of the girls that was with her—Hannah Lynch—walked around behind Megan. The other girl with them—Lisa Norrington—stood to her right, so that Megan was surrounded.

  No escape.

  “Don’t touch me,” Megan squeaked.

  “She’s beautiful, indeed,” Cassandra said.

  The other girls, except for Darcy, laughed.

  Darcy saw the fear on Megan’s face, and regret for this game was starting to bite at her conscience. It was what Cassandra wanted, though, and she’d promised Darcy nothing too bad would happen to the girl, so there was that.

  Megan heard something jangle behind her, and before she could turn to see what it was, Hannah had ahold of her wrists and was slapping on handcuffs.

  “No!” Megan screamed, and whirled around to knock the girl back with her shoulder.

  She charged Hannah so hard her glasses flew off her face, but the girl jumped away before she could be hit.

  From behind Megan, the other girls grabbed ahold of her and threw her to the ground.

  As Megan fell, she tried to put her arms out to break her fall, but her arms wouldn’t move. The girl had put the cuffs on faster than she could react. She crashed to the ground, her arms restrained behind her back.

  She kicked and thrashed as the girls grabbed her and pulled her up to her knees.

  One of them complained about how much she weighed and called her a “big heifer,” but she wasn’t sure which one because she was crying and screaming.

  Cassandra walked in front of Megan and kicked her in the solar plexus. “There, that should shut you up for a bit.”

  It did. Megan felt the air rush out of her body, and she doubled over, wheezing.

  “We’re just playing a game, jeez.” Cassandra said.

  The other girls laughed.

  Seeing the glint of excitement in Cassandra’s eyes, and being reminded that this wasn’t anything serious, Darcy was starting to relax. She’d felt bad about having conned the girl for months into thinking they’d started dating, but there would be plenty of time to brood over that later.

  Right now, she was going to join in on the fun.

  Chapter 6

  “…So, then what happened?” Victor asked.

  Tommy took a l
ong drag on his cigarette, longer than he would’ve if Vic hadn’t asked the question, then puffed out smoke into the air. “The girls took Megan’s shirt off, and they slashed her chest open with a knife.”

  “What the hell did they do that for?” Twist said.

  “And how close to her boobs were they?” Victor asked.

  All four of them glared at him. No words needed to be said, their eyes said everything.

  “For clarity’s sake,” he shrugged, blushing.

  “You’re a big idiot,” Gina said, rolling her eyes. “Okay, Tommy, go on.”

  Megan had her eyes closed, trying not to cry as someone cuffed her ankles together. Around her she heard metal clinking and a lighter being used as one of her captors moved in a circle setting something up.

  The other girls giggled as they watched.

  Once that was done, Megan heard them shuffling around until they settled into a spot.

  “Open your eyes, piggy,” Cassandra spoke, but her voice was muffled.

  Figuring out why that was, more than the command itself, made Megan open her eyes. Cassandra stared down at her through a pig mask.

  Megan let out a short gasp, which spurred the girls to laugh again.

  They were shrill laughs—cackles, really. Megan looked around her, and saw the other girls were kneeling in a circle, with animal masks on their heads. Light from the candles placed between them let Megan see every detail.

  Hannah wore a lamb mask, Lisa a unicorn mask, and Darcy some sort of indistinguishable bird—a vulture, maybe.

  They weren’t your run-of-the-mill masks meant for Halloween trick-or-treating. They were realistic, with real fur (or feather’s in the case of Darcy’s) on them.

  Something told Megan this wasn’t the first time the girls had worn these masks.

  Before Megan could scream at being caught up in this strange witch game, Cassandra pulled out a steak knife from behind her. Fear froze her up so much she couldn’t make a peep. All she could do was stare at it.