
MISCHIEF NIGHT
A Novella by Paul Melniczek
First Digital Edition published by Crossroad Press & Macabre Ink Digital
Copyright 2011 Paul Melniczek
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The Raid
"Hey Rusty, how much corn do you have left?" Tommy Miller questioned his freckled friend, a big grin crossing Rusty Patton's face.
"A whole shopping bag full -- that should be enough."
Tommy nodded. "I still got pretty much; went down to the field again Monday. Couple of cobs, too."
The seventh graders walked down the sidewalk as a brisk October wind rustled the fallen leaves which were scattered around the grass lawns of their neighborhood.
Several piles sat patiently in the gutter, waiting for the leaf collection trucks to make their rounds. The boys gazed at the houses, continuing their short hike home from the school bus.
"Tommy, look at the Crawford's place."
Rusty pointed a thin finger to his right, and the pair looked at a huge jack-o'-lantern carved in the likeness of a cat, sitting on the front step of a two-story house.
"We'll smash it tonight," Tommy answered.
"Better run fast, then. If Mr. Crawford sees us, we're in big trouble. He knows my dad, they go down to the bar sometimes." Rusty was nervous at the thought, but that was part of the fun.
Halloween raiding was an adventure, the trick being not to get caught.
Both of the boys' parents allowed them to go out, but with two conditions -- they could only take corn, and had to be in by nine. The boys could deal with the rules, although they would bend them at times. They approached an intersection. On the far side was a large maple tree; strips of toilet paper were strewn about its lower branches, as if decorated by an insane artist.
"Rob Sterner did that. Don't know where he sneaks all the toilet paper from." Rusty laughed at the scene, which posed a major headache to the property owner.
"He takes it from the school bathroom," Tommy said.
"Really? He's crazy," answered Rusty. "If he gets caught, he'll be in detention for a week."
"Yeah, he's nuts all right. Hey, did I tell you, Jimmy Krick is coming over later. He's raiding with us tonight."
Rusty stopped, looking over at his friend as they reached the other side of the street. "Jimmy? Talk about crazy...I don't know if we should go with him."
Rusty adjusted his backpack, looking worried, the brown hair fluttering in the breeze.
"It's okay. He's not that bad," said Tommy.
Rusty wasn't convinced. "I heard he broke three windows last year, and soaped up a police car."
"Well, don't worry. If he tries anything like that, we'll just tell him no."
They approached Tommy's house, and he turned around, shoving Rusty lightly. "Seven, all right? Meet us out front here, and make sure you bring enough corn."
"See ya'," replied Rusty. He crossed the street, angling towards his own house, which sat across from Tommy's. He frowned though, at the thought of Jimmy coming along.
He really hoped the boy wouldn't cause any trouble.
\*
"Ready?"
Tommy and Rusty nodded, as Jimmy counted on his fingers. The boy was a pale figure on the wooden porch, taller than his two companions. He reached 'three' and in unison the trio jumped up and down, stomping relentlessly on the floorboards. Laughing hysterically, they bounded away off the landing and ran, cutting through the neighboring yard. Lights came on at the house they'd left behind, and a dog barked from within. Wordlessly they continued their flight for another block, until they were convinced that no one had followed.
"Good one," said Tommy. "We probably gave them a heart attack."
"That'll teach them to leave their lights off, won't it?" Jimmy's smug grin gave the boy a malicious appearance in the darkness.
"We still have some time left, let's go." Jimmy crouched behind a hedgerow, and the others followed him. They scrambled across to a stone alleyway, leading up a small hill, which was wooded at the top. Jimmy hurried ahead and the alley ended, stopping at a poorly-lit street. Few houses were there, mostly older stone dwellings. Across the road sat a solitary home, fronted by a bank of ivy, crumbling steps leading up to the entrance. Moss clung to the house like fungus. Half of the roof tiles were missing, the grass was unkempt, and dark woods loomed ominously behind the backyard. A single light escaped from an upper window, forlorn and sinister in the chill night.
"Now that's a creepy-looking place," said Jimmy. "Who lives there?"
"Old man Berger," replied Rusty, a shiver going down his spine. "He's some German guy, lives by himself. One time Mickey Davis yelled at him to go back to Germany, and he came over to us, but we ran away. I've seen him once or twice after that, and he looked at me like he wanted to skin me alive."
"Yeah, his place is supposed to be haunted." Tommy shook his head,
unable to take his eyes off the mysterious house.
"Cool...A real haunted house, and here we are on Halloween.
Perfect." Jimmy fingered a tomato, and Rusty looked at him in alarm.
"I think we better go, it's getting late." Rusty looked over at Tommy, hoping for support.
"Wait, we have to hit this place before we leave." Jimmy turned to his companions. "You don't believe in ghosts, do you?" Tommy shook his head, but Rusty was silent.
"Oh, come on now, you guys call yourselves raiders? Now this...is raiding."
"I don't know," answered Rusty. "It's scary."
"Well, we're not going inside for trick or treat," Jimmy mocked, gesturing with his hands in front of Rusty's face. "Jump on the porch, throw a cob or two, then run. If he's just an old man, then what's the big deal? Tommy?"
Jimmy looked at Tommy now, the boy showing some hesitation. After a few moments, he encouraged his friend. "It's all right, Rusty. Let's do it and we'll run home."
Already moving forward, Jimmy went into the street, the other two following reluctantly. They reached the sidewalk in front of Berger's house, and Jimmy started up the worn flight of steps leading to the rotting porch. Rusty came last, and he glanced up at the gloomy upper reach. He gasped in fear as a shadow appeared at a window, and then it was gone.
"Wait," he snapped, "I saw him look out."
His friends stopped, scanning the building with straining eyes. After a few seconds, Jimmy spoke in a hushed whisper. "I don't see anything; you're just scared. Come on."
He reached the porch, and the others approached with less confidence. Gesturing with his hand, Jimmy crept to the curtained front window, peering inside.
"Guys, you ain't gonna' believe this. Come here."
Heart pounding in fear, Rusty stared at Tommy's back as he stood with Jimmy. His legs felt leaden, his eyes darting left and right as he joined them.
Rusty gazed inside, a small curtain with tattered holes revealing glimpses of the interior. Black candles were placed in an odd pattern, circling the edges of a low table. The wicks sputtered wildly, caught in some unseen draft.
"Wow, that's weird." Jimmy let out a low whistle, his breath fogging the glass.
"Look! What's that?" Tommy pointed inside, his fingertip touching the window.
The boys followed his gaze to a diminutive form hunched over in one corner. It appeared to be a small man, apparently sleeping, the face hidden within the folds of an odd-looking robe.
"That can't be Berger, he's too small," said Tommy.
"Is that a dwarf?" Jimmy pressed his face against the cold glass. Rusty had an ominous feeling, and was ready to bolt away. Then, from somewhere in the street, a low voice pitched upwards, accompanied by a short bark. Instantly they slunk down, with Tommy crawling to the rim of the porch.
"Berger's coming -- he's walking his dog. And it looks mean."
A shuffling, bent figure approached the house, holding the chain to a large black animal, looking more wolf than dog.
"Oh no, if he catches us we're dead meat," Rusty's voice quivered.
There could be little doubt as to what intentions the group had on the man's porch this late, on Halloween.
"Quick, over the side, then around back."
Jimmy was already next to the stone ledge bordering the porch. He pulled himself over and disappeared. Tommy backed up to where Rusty knelt, motioning his friend to follow. Rusty shook with fear, and knew that he had to run. Glancing inside the window briefly, he noticed that the sleeping figure was gone. His eyes grew wide and spider chills crawled along his skin.
What was it? And where had it gone? But he had no time to think as Tommy reached the stone and the sound of Berger drew closer. On hands and knees, Rusty made it to the edge and slunk over, dropping onto the ivy that strangled the foundation of the house. He followed Tommy's retreating form as he snuck along the side of the home. Rusty joined him as a harsh growl erupted from the front of the building.
"Where's Jimmy?" Rusty was breathless from fear and the short sprint, and Tommy darted his head around, searching for their friend.
"He couldn't of gotten far. Where is he?"
They had no idea where the boy was. Dozens of yards away stood the dark woods, and rotten tree stumps littered the backyard. To the side of the house lay a wide stretch of grass, and the moonlight would have clearly revealed anyone crossing. The sound of a closing door reached them, and they stared at each other in horror. It came from behind the house.
"Someone came outside," hissed Tommy. He hesitated. "Or went in..."
"Now what?" Rusty's pulse raced. Visions of the strange little man swam before his eyes. Were they trapped? There was no other noise from Berger. For all they knew he could be waiting out front. Rusty felt like he was drowning, indecision freezing him.
"Got to find Jimmy. Let's check the back. If you see anything, run like crazy, and don't stop."
The pair crept along the house, expecting at any moment to have someone jump out at them. Thorn bushes lined the home's exterior, the nasty undergrowth cringing against the cold stone as if trying to scale the walls. Tommy reached a corner that blocked the view from the back entrance, and arched his neck as he gazed around the edge. "Nothing here, come on."
The suspense was unbearable -- Rusty felt ready to scream. A narrow porch sat a few yards to their left, the wooden planks warped and bent upwards at several spots. A dim light spilled out from a partially shuttered window next to the porch.
"I don't see anyone. Do you think Jimmy went inside to hide?" Tommy's question was a terrible one. What if Jimmy had gone in? He would be taking a dreadful chance of being caught. But then again, Jimmy had done some outrageous things before.
Tommy moved to the window, and Rusty turned around, worried that Berger might sneak up the side of the house.
"Hold on," he whispered, returning to the corner. Nothing stirred. Rusty returned, gazing across the silent yard as he rejoined Tommy's huddled form.
"It's clear. Berger must've gone in."
Easing up to the window, they held their breath, not daring to disturb the frame. Through the cracks, they saw a table in the middle of a modest kitchen, a seated figure facing the back door.
It was Jimmy!
The boy stared straight ahead, unmoving...
Two mouths gaped wide at the sight of their friend inside the forbidden home. But that was not the worst of it, for standing on the table was the little man, his back turned to the spying boys. He was gesturing to Jimmy, his tiny hands swaying in front of the boy's face like a diabolical maestro directing his orchestra. Rusty shuddered.
"Wh-what's he doing to him?" Tommy's voice whispered in Rusty's ear, but the boy was unable to respond.
As they watched in horror, Berger entered the kitchen, his gaunt form leering down at Jimmy, whose lips moved mechanically, mesmerized by the waving limbs of the small man. Berger nodded, speaking to the bizarre dwarf, a malevolent grin piercing his face, empty and humorless. Without warning, Jimmy stood, the movement dreamlike and controlled. He shuffled towards the door.
"What's he doing now?" Rusty felt Tommy's hands gripping his shoulder, palpable fear in the tight hold. "Are they letting him go?"
Jimmy reached the door, and the boys struggled with indecision -- to leave the house far behind, or try and help Jimmy if possible. The door opened.
"Tommy, Rusty. Come on inside. Mr. Berger wants to talk. He knows where you are." His voice was low and emotionless.
At that moment, the little man turned around, staring straight at the two boys, who watched in horrid disbelief. The dwarf had a long pointed nose, and a face that looked like a rotten apple core. A pair of wicked yellow eyes gleamed menacingly, and small fangs protruded from a cruel mouth. They bolted away, almost knocking each other to the ground in an attempt to escape the evil house and its hideous occupant. Jimmy laughed at their fleeing forms, the sound lacking any semblance of mirth.
"He knows who you are. You can't run from him."
They raced away in the night, their tension finding release. Fear gave them the endurance needed to carry their weary frames past the long blocks back to their own neighborhood. They passed trick-or-treaters and another group of pranksters, ignoring all of them, their only thought to reach the comfort of home. Neither boy spoke until they collapsed onto Tommy's front porch, gasping for air, cramped and tired.
Almost immediately the door opened, and Tommy's mother looked out.
"Well, what have we here. You two rascals had enough escapades for one night?" The boys stared at each other, not knowing where to begin.
"Tommy, I have a message for you. Jimmy's mom just called. He thanked you for letting him come along."
"What? Jimmy's home?" Tommy stood up, his face pale and disbelieving.
"Of course. He went to bed already; guess it was a long night for you guys. He was excited about Halloween, and wanted to get some rest. Is that so strange?"
Neither of the boys spoke. Jimmy had gone home, without a word concerning Berger or the dwarf? Impossible...
"Come on, time for bed, Tommy. Good night Rusty."
She gently tugged on Tommy's arm, pulling the confused boy inside. Rusty felt very alone now, and walked over to his own home, eager for the security of familiar surroundings. He scarcely said a word to his parents, who were watching an old movie on TV.
"Hey Rusty, did you have fun?"
The boy nodded wordlessly and went up to his room, locking the door behind him. He lay back on the welcome softness of his bed and noticed a light flashing on the answering machine. His parents had given him his own phone line for friends to call. Rusty's hands trembled as he pressed the button, retrieving the message.
"Hey, it's Jimmy. Just called to tell you I had a great time tonight."
There was a brief pause. Jimmy's voice then changed, drawling out the next sentence.
"Your turn is coming soon."
Recoiling in horror, Rusty stood, his young face aghast at the dire warning left on the tape. He had to do something. His parents needed to know, and if they heard the strange message, maybe they would believe him. The tape rewound itself, and he pressed the play button again.
"Hey, it's Jimmy. Just called to tell you I had a great time tonight."
Click!
There was nothing else. But how...Nothing made any sense. Rusty was chilled to the bone. A realization dawned on him then -- there was no denying it. He was dealing with something extremely weird and unknown. Jimmy had been taken...changed somehow. And both himself and Tommy were in danger.
He was suddenly very afraid.
Rusty paced about the room, the clock hands moving to the darker hours. Sleep was far off, and on a whim he jumped up, locking his bedroom window -- the night wasn't to be trusted. He decided to call Tommy, to convey his fears, and also come up with a plan. Rusty dialed the boy's number. Tommy also had a private phone, and they sometimes called each other late at night. But nothing. The line was dead.
Rusty's hands felt cold and lifeless, holding the receiver. A coincidence, or something else? He went to his closet, bringing out a telescope. He carried it over to the window, now unlocking it for a clearer view through the screen. The lens needed adjustment, and after several moments he zoomed in on Tommy's house. The angle of his own home was perfect for a direct sighting, and he moved the frame into position. Rusty peered into the scope, and saw a faint light coming from Tommy's window. There was no sign of his friend, but he was probably in bed. A single downstairs lamp was on, and Tommy's parents were night owls, so nothing unusual there.
He turned the lens again and stopped. Something moved at the side of Tommy's house. In the bushes, which sat below the terminal box. Rusty felt a new wave of chills crawling along his back. Then, a small figure appeared wearing a hat, climbing up the drain spout that passed within reach of Tommy's window. It was the dwarf...
A huge lump formed in Rusty's throat, and he couldn't swallow. The dwarf! Going for Tommy! Rusty had to warn him. He grabbed for the phone again, this time dialing Tommy's main number. The line was disconnected. Panicking, he looked through the scope. The dwarf was now alongside Tommy's window, fumbling at the latch. The horrible creature was having some problem, so hopefully that meant it was locked. But Rusty had no time to waste. By inaction, he would bring disaster to Tommy and himself. Berger and the dwarf would be after him next, for their unknown diabolical purposes. The boy left his bedroom and burst down the steps. The living room light was still on, and his dad was up yet, watching a black and white horror movie.
"Dad, you've got to come with me!"
Rusty's dad jumped up, surprised by his son. "What? Oh, Rusty, what are you doing up? It's late."
"Over at Tommy's! There's a burglar outside his window."
His dad stood up, eyes darkening. "Are you sure?" His face turned deadly serious.
"I swear it! You've got to hurry!"
His dad was not one to back away from trouble, and he sprinted into the garage, reappearing seconds later with a small air pistol which, although non-lethal, packed a wallop.
"This isn't a joke, is it?"
"No." Rusty's frightened look spoke the truth.
"Okay. Call the police, and tell your mom."
He went to the front door and left. Rusty quickly dialed the emergency number, and went outside. He was afraid for Tommy, afraid for his dad as well. They didn't know what they were dealing with here. He felt confused and frightened, not wanting to let his dad face the dwarf and Berger alone. He needed to do something.
Rusty had an idea.
\*
Jon Patton crouched next to Tommy's house, staring up at the window. It seemed unbelievable, but a strange miniature figure was holding onto the spout, grasping at Tommy's window. Jon heard a soft clicking, and the window began to open.
"That's enough. Come down now, or I'll shoot a hole in that hat of yours, you little creep." The dwarf froze, and looked down. He made a gurgling noise, and spat at the man below.
"Right now. Move."
The dwarf descended, lowering himself with remarkable agility. When he reached the ground he paused, his face obscured from Jon's view.
"Hands up, turn around. Slowly. No tricks, either. We wait for the police."
The dwarf moved, head bowed, then suddenly snapped its chin up, revealing the hideous features. Jon gasped in shock, his hold on the gun faltering for a moment, and that was all the time the dwarf needed. His tiny hands rose in the air, gesturing hypnotically, capturing Jon's gaze. The man's eyes grew unfocused. Nodding in satisfaction, the dwarf stepped forward, muttering something unintelligible beneath his breath. He scowled as he stood before Jon, his hands clenching the air. Yellow eyes glittered in the twilight.
But the malevolent creature hesitated as something approached from the corner of its eye, and it turned around, gasping in surprise. From the sidewalk erupted a large black form, as Rusty released Krypto, his pet shepherd.
"Get him!"
The dwarf shrieked in rage, flying back as the dog pounced. Growls from both combatants pierced the night and the two bodies tumbled over into the bushes. The dog barked furiously, trying to bite the much smaller opponent. The spell was now broken, and Jon waved a hand across his brow, running forward. Krypto yelped and the little man broke away, but not before Jon fired a shot at the retreating form.
The dwarf vanished into the night.
\*
The three boys sat in Tommy's kitchen the following morning, having been given the day off, trying to unravel the previous night's events.
"Dad said he aimed high to make him stop, but they found nothing. And Jimmy, you don't remember anything?"
"Nope."
Rusty was shocked. "Nothing about Berger, the dwarf, the house?"
Jimmy sat quietly, looking perplexed. "Like they said, I was probably hypnotized, or something. Can't remember anything after leaving his front porch. Weird."
"Well, Tommy, I'm officially retired from raiding." The boys nodded their heads in agreement.
"I knew you would get us into trouble." Rusty yawned, tired but relieved to see Jimmy had returned to his normal, but unusually reserved, self. He mulled over the morning's events in his mind.
The police had entered Berger's house. The old man was gone. Apparently no one had lived there for years. Everything was covered in thick dust, without any signs of recent occupancy. Bizarre. But they did find one thing to corroborate the boy's fantastic tale.
A small tattered hat, with a hole in the middle.
Cinders
Rusty felt uneasy.
As he trudged along the dirt road leading from his house, he gazed across the bordering cornfields, watching as the dried stalks swayed hypnotically in the brisk October wind, reminding him of another fall. He snapped his head around, dispelling the unwelcome thought, and the lurid memories that quickly followed.
Unavoidable. They nibbled at his consciousness, scurrying away and vanishing when he focused on better things, like friendly faces, or familiar surroundings. He missed his old home, the old school, the slumbering neighborhood with its comforting trees and neatly-trimmed lawns. The country was quiet -- too quiet. Its solitude amplified the worries within his head, and the last thing he needed was to dwell on dark thoughts. Especially in late October.
Sighing, he approached the mailbox; a miniature barn with a tiny flag on top. The flag was resting. The mail had already gone, and he propped open the red door, peering inside to rummage through the predictable offerings. Rusty noticed that the mail was shoved up against the back wall, and he reached inside, grabbing the small pile. His eyes adjusted to the preternatural gloom of the structure, and he immediately stiffened at the sight of the black object clinging to the top of the barn. But it wasn't an object at all. He gasped in fear.
Directly above his hand was an enormous spider. The biggest spider he'd ever seen. Furry legs waved menacingly, scant inches above the top of his hand. It was a wood spider, and they could grow to be quite large.
This one was a freak of nature.
It was easily bigger than his hand. It could have been mistaken for a large tarantula. He trembled with revulsion and fright. Rusty imagined the thing descending upon him and gouging a huge chunk of skin with its pincers. He hated spiders, and this thing was a monster. Dark brown, eight skittering legs, dead eyes. Staring at him. Waiting...
It was a terrible moment. Rusty shivered, feeling sweat dampen his forehead, slicking his back, dripping across his face. A drop slid over his upper lip, and he tasted the salt of his fear. The spider shifted, and he almost screamed.
Indecision. Should he try pulling his hand out now, or wait to see if the creature moved closer? He shuddered, feeling utterly horrible and disgusted. His spine was cold, and the flesh on his arms tingled at the thought of the hideous spider brushing against his skin, crawling along his hand. The thought was unbearable. If he whipped his arm out, would the spider then pounce, sticking fast and biting him? Visions of the abominable creature wrapping its legs around his arm drove him nearly mad. In the span of mere seconds, Rusty's world had been transformed into a haven for nightmares and black possibilities. It might bite him, which would he terrible, but it wouldn't kill him. He tried to think positive. His parents would take him to Doctor Peterson's office, and he would be given medicine. No big deal. No worse than when he broke his arm two years ago.
Logic was a good thing. It showed maturity, intelligence.
Unfortunately, the sight of the huge, lurking spider, far surpassed sound reasoning. He needed to act, or go crazy. Regardless of the consequences, he had to do something.
Shouting, he snatched his hand from out of the mailbox, expecting to feel a sharp pain as the nasty creature scored him with its fangs. Banging the side of the barn in his haste, his momentum was so great that he lost his balance, and fell on his back.
The spider had not touched him.
Landing hard on the ground, he simply lay there, feeling a mix of shock and relief. He was all right. The thing had not bitten him after all. Rusty crab-walked backwards, keeping a wary eye on the sinister mailbox and its gruesome occupant. The door had slammed shut, sealing the spider inside.
Regaining his confidence, he stood up, scrambling back to the house, and around the side. Plunging into his dad's tool shed, he brought out a metal pole, pointed at one end for staking small holes. He hurried to the front lane, his heart pounding with adrenaline. That spider was monstrous, and he couldn't allow for it to live in the same world as he did. No more chance encounters, he thought grimly. Never again.
Rusty stood silently before the mailbox, prying the door open with the shaft. He kept a respectable distance away, not wanting to have the thing leap onto his shirt. Flipping it open, he bent down, looking for his enemy.
To his surprise, the barn was empty. The spider had disappeared.
That quickly? Where had it gone? And how did it get out again, for that matter? He prodded the mailbox, searching on every side for an opening, a crack, something he hadn't noticed.
Nothing. The mailbox was solid, the door opening and closing completely. Had the thing actually opened it, crawling in, then quickly out again? Rusty waited there, shaking his head in bewilderment. It was too weird.
The whole incident would be considered strange on any given day, but today in particular it appeared in a much more sinister light. For one year ago he and two of his friends had fallen victim to a malevolent dwarf and its bizarre master, old man Berger. Exactly one year from today.
And now, it was Halloween again.
\*
Rusty didn't even look at his lunch, a bologna and cheese sandwich. His favorite. Not today though. His mom walked by, frowning. "It was just a spider, don't let it bother you. Aren't you going to eat?"
Just a spider, he thought? Bite your head off...
"I'm not hungry. Maybe later."
His mother bustled past him, sweeping the platter with one arm, pointing at the glass bowl on the counter. "A harvest trail mix. At least take a handful, Rusty. I made it for you."
The boy nodded. "I will. I'll have something later tonight, at the hay ride. When's Tommy coming over?" He smiled to himself at the thought of his best friend visiting overnight. He had not found anyone to replace the freckle-faced youth, his childhood companion and playmate. They didn't live that far apart, only a distance of ten miles, but it might have been a world away. Nothing could replace the nightly encounters, the waving to one another from their bedrooms, across the street. The phone calls at every hour of the day and night. And mostly, the pranks and adventures.
Rusty's face soured. They'd spent their last days of Halloween raiding together, on that fateful night one year ago. Rusty had tried to move on, but the harrowing events had never completely relinquished their grip on him. His family had relocated shortly after the New Year into a cozy stone house on the fringe of Hareton, closer to where his dad worked.
Family and friends were not that far away, they'd told him. And you'll make new ones. And although they never admitted it, Rusty thought they also wanted to put the strange experience behind him. Bury it a few miles away, and move on. But he couldn't. His sleep was plagued with nightmares. Rarely did he go to bed with the light off. He showed no real outward signs of problems, and his grades remained excellent.
But there were some things you could never forget.
"...over at seven-thirty. Did you hear me? Rusty?"
"Uh, yeah." He pushed up from the chair, heading for his bedroom. "Did dad call yet?" He looked back hopefully.
"Sorry, dear. Double shift. There's no chance of him getting off. He's supervisor now, and his responsibilities are greater. I don't like it very much either."
He hesitated on the first step. "Yeah, I know. Do I have to wear a costume tonight?"
His mother called back to him from the kitchen. "At least take a rubber mask along. I'm sure Tommy will be dressing up, and you don't want to be the only one without something to wear."
He groaned. Rusty trudged upstairs, whistling absently, the melody of a nonsensical rhyme. It had been stuck in his head for the past few days:
October is here and Halloween is coming,
Monsters will be coming after you.
Black and mean sneaks the witches' cat, gleaming eyes, a big dead rat.
Skeletons jump in a bony dance, goblins scream in an ugly prance.
Don't look now,
They're coming after you!
Rusty paused. What a horrible song for little kids, he thought. He shook his head, as if the action would knock the tune from his mind. No wonder some children were terrified of Halloween.
And worse yet, he knew some of it was true.
\*
Rusty lay on his bed, tilting his head and staring out the window, watching the lavender curtains swaying gently, disturbed by a teasing wind. The afternoon was passing swiftly, giving way to a premature twilight, gray clouds choking the last cracks of the orange sunset. He rested there, dreamily looking across the fading autumn landscape, the distant hills a memory until the next sunrise. Neighboring farms gradually disappeared, leaving only a few gnarled trees and stale rows of corn visible.
He yawned. Tommy would soon be there, and they were going out to a local bonfire, the festivities including a hay ride and other harvest happenings.
Your turn is coming soon.
The words were sinister and alien, spoken by his old schoolmate and fellow prankster Jimmy, while under a hypnotic trance, held by the power of old man Berger. He didn't think he would ever forget that sentence. Many times he'd talked to Tommy about their harrowing experience, never coming up with a clear explanation. Their parents had believed only part of the story, knowing how active imaginations could create and expound on other fears.
But they knew better...
His mom was downstairs cleaning, and he waited patiently for his friend's arrival. Rusty hoped to bury some of his own demons by once again embracing the fall holiday and moving onward. It had been a long year, but the memories were still vivid in his mind. He needed a fresh start.
The wind hissed outside, and he jumped as a twig cracked against the side of the house. He stood up, going to the window and shutting it tight, snapping the latch. Rusty then paused as he heard a rustling sound overhead. Looking up, he stared at the ceiling, shivering. Above his room was a musty attic, unused except for storing old decorations. Many times he would hear small animals moving about, mice and an occasional squirrel. He had even spotted bats more than once, slipping through small crevices. He never went up there for anything. The idea of being alone in the creepy attic was an unpleasant one.
The noise was soft, a quiet scraping, and he frowned. He was constantly asking his dad to set more traps up there, although the last time his request had been answered only by a thoughtful silence, followed by a gentle chiding for him to do the act himself. Rusty hadn't taken up the offer.
He listened as the sound moved about, then changed. It was more a pattering, and he found himself straining to discover the exact source. It was located above his closet, and he walked to the door, now closed. The noise stopped, and he felt spider-chills crawl his spine. Hand on the closet door, he opened it, flicking on the light switch.
A small trapdoor sat above the single shelf, and he gazed at it apprehensively. He'd never really given it too much thought, the access to the attic from the closet. Now it appeared ominous. The notion of some critter plunging downwards was horrifying. He considered nailing it shut, but knew his dad would reprimand him if he were caught. No, that wasn't a good solution. He needed to start overcoming the little fears he carried around with him.
He stared at the trapdoor. Insignificant in itself, the object represented much more to him now. If he were able to open the door, scare away the bothersome critter, it would be an act of confidence. Like the first time he stood on the high dive at the swimming pool. He recalled looking down into the blue waters, willing himself to go off. It was a rite of passage, and after the first time, he'd felt a surge of exhilaration. He'd overcome a substantial obstacle, and moved onwards from there to more aggressive escapades.
Rusty reached for the trapdoor, his arm quivering just a bit. He pushed upwards, and the noise started again. The pattering moved further off, and for one second he thought he heard a soft gurgling, but a knock at his door drowned it out.
Surprised by the new intrusion, he jumped in fright.
"Rusty! Tommy's here early. What are you doing, sleeping?"
Breathing in relief, he looked up at the dark attic. "No, I'll be right down."
His heart thumping rapidly, he slid the panel back into place. Maybe I'll go over to the neighbor's farm this week, he thought, to see if they had any stray cats. That would take care of what hid up in the attic.
He hoped.
\*
"Ten more minutes until the next hay ride."
The announcement blared over a loudspeaker, crackling and shrill in the brisk night. The theme park was crowded with bustling youths, some alone, others accompanied by parents. The cool air snaked its way across the grass field, scuttling dead leaves and prying into shirt sleeves and collars. The moon was hidden by high clouds, a few stars glittering faintly.
Rusty grinned as Tommy bit into a caramel apple, a big chunk breaking off and landing on his shirt. The boy mumbled something beneath his breath, his normally cheerful face twisted into a scowl. "Make these things cheaper every year, you know it? And the candy bars, smaller and more expensive." Tommy licked his fingers.
"Inflation, my dad says. Less for more." Rusty chuckled after replying, glad to be in his friend's company once again.
"Hey, this place is pretty neat. Except for that whirl ride, or whatever you call it -- makes me dizzy."
Rusty agreed. "Once, Nikki Rivers went on it five times in a row, and got sick. His face was so green he looked like a frog."
The boys laughed, walking towards the huge bonfire in the middle of the park. Dozens of children huddled around it, all drawn to the warmth and allure of the massive kindling. Rusty stared into the glare, looking at the charred cinders. Within the blaze his vision grew distorted, and he imagined a pair of wicked, yellow eyes. He shuddered at the thought.
Tommy noticed his discomfort, nodding. "I know what you're thinking. I just can't seem to get it out of my head either."
"One year ago. Can you believe it? I still have nightmares."
"Me too. It's not the same anymore. Like I grew up somehow, and everything looks different now. You know what I mean?" Tommy rubbed his hands before the greedy flames, enjoying the heat.
Rusty did the same, but he still felt cold inside. "I do. We saw what evil looks like, and it has a name, a face. My dad says evil is all around us, constantly battling good." He paused. "Hey, we're going to have fun tonight. Let's not mention that anymore, okay?"
"You're right. It's over with. Let's go wait in line. Get your ticket ready."
They stomped off, watching a boy throw softballs at a milk can, trying to get one to remain inside the metal container.
"That's impossible to do. What a rip-off," said Tommy. "Tried it at the summer fair. Couldn't even get one to stay, and spent a lousy two bucks."
They hurried ahead, moving swiftly past an assortment of amusements, rides, and game stands, until they reached a long double rope, where several other youths eagerly awaited the coming hay ride. An engine churned in the distance, and a tractor lumbered into view, hauling a square flatbed behind it. A dark-haired teenager wearing gothic jewelry held the excited children at bay, feeding off his authority as ticket taker and hay ride receptionist.
"Back, you guys," he drawled. "Don't move past the ropes, or you'll get run over."
The tractor heaved forward, stopping several yards to their right. A burly man, with gray beard and denim hat, waved to the teenager, grabbing a coffee mug and drinking deeply. The line moved forward, and the kids piled in after turning over their tickets.
"Last group tonight." The teenager took his ticket, and Rusty braced both hands on a makeshift ladder, leaping forward onto a layer of hay. The trailer held less than a dozen kids, mostly boys, with two adults sitting in the far corner, trying to humor their pony-tailed daughter, who looked rather miserable.
"Everybody in?" The driver called back, shifting the tractor into motion. The trailer lurched to the side, and Tommy giggled with delight. "Is this thing going to tip over?"
The tractor heaved into the maw of darkness, shortly heading into a cemetery filled with loose rocks and handmade grave markers. Oil lanterns jutted from the ground in several locations, the greasy smoke curdling upwards, the smell acrid and strong. A ghoul lumbered forward, arms outstretched, moaning as it walked up to the trailer, which now slowed down. The children on that side cowered backwards, eyeing the actor suspiciously. The girl screamed.
Rusty and Tommy watched from the far side, peering around for any other lurking actors.
The ghoul clicked its hands together, pretending to grab for the closest child, a husky boy wearing a battered, red flannel shirt. The youth made a hex sign with his hands, and the ghoul growled.
Rusty gasped in surprise as something touched him from behind. He snapped his head around as another actor pawed at his hair. Tommy and several others cried out, all of them leaning away from the trailer's edge.
"They always do that!" Rusty grinned, still wary of the ghoul, its face covered in a horrible rubber mask, painted with huge scars and splotches of blood, garish and fluorescent. "Wild costume."
Tommy nodded, still keeping his distance.
Rusty looked past the actor to a small fire burning between a pair of grave stones. His heart dropped when he saw something moving within the shadows, and he caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a pointed hat. It quickly disappeared.
"Did you see that?" Rusty grabbed Tommy's shirt sleeve, pointing into the darkness.
"What?"
"That figure, next to the fire?"
"No, what was it?"
"I don't really know. It looked strange, almost like..." Rusty hesitated, his voice trailing off thoughtfully, and his companion shrugged.
The tractor chugged ahead, and the ghouls slowly followed, some of the boys jeering at their failed attempts to reach them. Eerie howls echoed from a distant speaker from somewhere across the shrouded field, which was quickly giving way to an area of mixed trees and strangled bushes. The dirt trail was bumpy, and they were jostled rudely about. Rusty was silent, wondering as to what he'd seen.
They passed beneath tall trees now, with an assortment of horrors jumping out from cover, hooting and hollering as they tried to scare the riders. A witch cackled to their left, sitting on a fallen log, a black cauldron sprawled before her, steam curling over the rim.
"Double double, boil and trouble!" She croaked, laughing like a lunatic.
"Dry ice, it's a neat effect," remarked Tommy. "Can't touch the ice with your skin though, it'll burn you like it was hot."
"Hmm." Rusty was quiet, watching the witch as she held up her hands. The tractor halted, and the giggles surrounding them turned to gasps now, as a huge figure lumbered out from behind a massive oak tree. It looked part skeleton, part demon, standing nearly ten feet tall, towering over the trailer and its frightened occupants. A booming voice blared forth from its chest, and the figure strode towards them, placing clawed limbs upon the edge.
"Fake or not, that's one scary costume." Tommy's mouth opened in awe.
The monster gazed at the group, its horrible mask alarming the more squeamish, and even the two adults looked nervous, their daughter hiding her head beneath the folds of their jackets. The actor stuck its neck forward, the eyes sockets smoldering with a crimson fire.
Like cinders, thought Rusty...
Without warning, the hideous face stared directly at the two boys, and Rusty inhaled sharply.
"Your turn is coming."
A wicked finger reached towards Rusty, and he scrambled backwards, away from the nightmarish figure. The entire group seemed to feel it was too real, moving as far as possible from the actor. The tractor revved its engine, and they were thrown forward, just as the monster grabbed for them. Rusty watched in horror as the thing remained standing, glaring after them.
"Did you hear that?" Rusty squeezed his friend's arm. "That's what Jimmy said to me last year. They were coming for me. Berger!"
Tommy sat there in silence, gazing behind them. "I don't know, Rusty. It's just part of the act, that's all. Every scary movie I've ever seen says it at least once. The monsters are always coming to get you."
"But he pointed at us -- at me."
"I was scared too. Like I said, it's all part of the ride. Next time, they'll point at someone else. You watch."
Unconvinced, Rusty brooded there, thinking now that the hay ride had been a bad idea. His mom was supposed to pick them up, waiting for them at the entrance to the park. It wouldn't be too soon for him. Strange things were happening. His imagination? He wasn't so sure...The spider had definitely not been in his mind. Rusty looked around, wondering what other sinister figures would be the next to jump out and surprise him. It was not a pleasant thought, and he pulled his jacket tight, wishing for his home and own warm bed.
He didn't like Halloween anymore, and this year's attempt to embrace the fun of it wasn't working out too well.
The tractor plodded along, twisting around curves and small buildings. A maniac burst from a crooked doorway holding a chain saw in his grip. He buzzed the far side of the flatbed, eliciting screams of terror from the children. Another actor yelped from a concealing clump of brush, wearing an ugly pig mask, holding an ax. Mayhem ensued for several long moments before the tractor left the chaos behind.
Tommy looked at the gruesome characters, a sly grin on his face, but Rusty was apprehensive, unwilling to let his guard down. The air was growing colder, and the wind slapped mischievously at them, whispering in their ear of winter to come. October was almost gone, Rusty thought with relief. At one time it had been his favorite month. No longer.
A large structure loomed ahead now, an old barn. The tractor paused, and a door opened, pushed outwards. They rumbled inside, the interior murky with flickering candles from dozens of jack-o'-lanterns, their misshapen forms tumbled lazily in scattered rows along wooden plank boards.
Overhead, the rafters were choked with strands of spray can webbing, and a huge mechanical spider hovered there menacingly, its eyes blinking red, leering down at them. Several children looked up, pointing, mumbling words of excitement and humor, others uneasy at the lurid sight. A ladder was propped against the left wall, a flat platform erected above it. A strobe light flashed on, and the barn was cast in eerie lighting, like a macabre disco hall. Rusty frowned, not liking the close confines, wondering as to what terrors would be revealed next. He didn't have long to wait...
A massive skeleton clambered into view, tall and thin, its arms flailing wildly in the air. Screams rang out from the most squeamish of the group, and the two boys looked fearfully at the outrageous thing. Suddenly, another figure appeared on the wooden landing, much smaller but no less diabolical.
It looked like a little man, wearing a black and red robe, a small pointed hat on its head. The face looked like a diseased apple, rotten and bruised. A long nose lay above a fanged mouth. Yellow, spiteful, unforgiving eyes bored into their very hearts, shattering hope and melting courage. It was a dwarf. Tommy hissed, and Rusty's blood ran cold. The dwarf!
Berger's dwarf!
The boys were shocked, unable to speak. The appearance of the malevolent being struck them like a physical blow. Their old enemy, returning again to threaten them, choosing to reveal itself openly. An evil smirk creased its face, and it rubbed cruel hands together, a gurgling noise coming from its throat.
They're coming after you!
The song played madly in Rusty's head, and he felt the wings of nightmare and madness closing in swiftly to claim him. There could be no doubt as to the horrid creature's purpose -- it was Halloween, one year since their last encounter, and it was after them again...
Rusty pushed his companion back towards the rear of the trailer. "We have to run! If we wait it will have us."
They heard a shout from the driver, who now stood, staring at the hideous little figure. The dwarf gestured with its hands, muttering in some unintelligible language. The driver's face transformed from an expression of bewilderment to one of glassy indifference -- like that, he was under the creature's spell.
"Let's go!" Rusty leaped from the trailer, Tommy on his heels. They stumbled ahead, pushing at the latch which held the door in place. Some of the children shouted to the pair, confused and becoming scared. The barn was filled with cries and gasps, and the driver turned towards the retreating boys, shuffling forward. Things were happening quickly, and the two adults tried to calm the children. Rusty managed to open the door, and he ushered his friend through, slamming it shut behind them. They stared at each other in the darkness, the same unspoken thought scorching their minds...
They had to find their way back to the park through the field, knowing the dwarf would be after them. What other dangers waited in the shadows?
They hurried away into the inky blackness.
\*
Minutes passed in a blur, the two boys fearfully retreating along the trail.
Rusty had seen his darkest nightmares materialize when the dwarf had appeared on the platform. The dwarf! One year later, and the creature was again hunting him. For what purpose? Revenge against the two boys who had eluded them? It seemed the only possible explanation. But was it alone, or was its master close by? The notion of old man Berger lurking somewhere around the theme park was a horrible one.
Rusty listened to Tommy's labored breathing beside him, loud in his ears. The trees and bushes were dark, unfriendly. Any place could be a haven for their enemy...He paused, tapping his friend's shoulder. "Tommy, slow down for a second. We need to think about this."
"That dwarf is after us, what more do you need to think about?" Tommy looked behind them, eager to continue.
"Do we want to chance the trail? The dwarf might have gotten to some of the actors. Remember that big demon-thing? I sure don't want to meet up with that out here."
"Yeah, you might be right. Cut through the trees?" Tommy gestured to their right, where a scattering of mixed hardwoods loomed menacingly.
Rusty didn't like the look of the area, but they had few options. "All right, it leads towards the park at least. And away from those creeps. Let's go."
They left the trail, the forest illuminated by the moon, which had escaped the persistent cloud cover, and now hung ominously overhead. An owl hooted from somewhere nearby, and Rusty shivered. They passed through scattered bushes, poked mercilessly by sharp stickers, one branch cutting into Rusty's arm and ripping his jacket sleeve. Ignoring the nasty brush, his only thought was to keep up with Tommy, who was gradually pulling ahead of him. Not wanting to shout, he was determined to increase his own pace, knowing that Tommy had always been much faster than himself, training for the school track team.
Rusty grew worried when Tommy soon disappeared from view. At first, he gave a short whistle, but lacked the air to project properly. He paused for a moment, hating to break the silence, but daring to anyway. "Tommy," he called. His voice sounded frighteningly loud, and he tried two more times.
Silence.
Not wishing to widen the distance between them, he hurried forward, his foot catching on a thick root, and he tumbled headlong onto the rough earth. The wind was knocked from his chest and he lay there, gasping on the cold ground. Disoriented, it was several seconds before he regained his footing, bruised and increasingly alarmed at his situation. He gazed around the woods, trying to remember any marker, but everything looked the same. Shadows surrounded him, threatening to swallow him if he made the wrong move. He was alone against the forces of darkness.
He felt ready to cry, realizing that he had become separated from his friend. How could he have lost Tommy so quickly?
Rusty started in the direction in which he thought his friend had gone, pushing back the thready vines that dangled from the mossy trunks. They whipped and tugged at him as he rushed by, and he felt like the entire forest was watching, trying to thwart his passage. He didn't know how much more he could take; he was ready to collapse on the ground. Fear of being caught kept him going though, and he urged his cramped legs onward.
Without warning, he broke through a high clump of bushes and found himself staring at the park. He had made it...Excited and relieved, Rusty surged ahead, coming out behind the small carousel, the painted horses bobbing and weaving before his weary eyes. Mesmerized by the churning machinery, he stumbled forward, staring as a figure plummeted towards him on a silver horse.
It was a woman, and he noticed that she was the only one riding. Looking around, he also realized there were no other people in sight, although most of the vendor and amusement stands were still lighted. The woman came closer, and he recognized her.
It was his mom.
Riding the carousel? Cold terror swept across him -- he knew immediately that something was dreadfully wrong here. His mother never went on rides.
She drew near, and the carousel slowed down. Her lips moved, and she was speaking to him. Fascinated and terrified in the same breath, Rusty staggered towards her and she smiled, the whites of her teeth showing. She spoke to him, and he listened with straining ears.
"Mr. Berger wants to see you, Rusty."
Rusty staggered as if struck a blow. The gears moaned as the carousel swept past him, his mother vanishing, and another figure appeared, riding a small pony. It was the dwarf.
The boy scrambled backwards, devastated and frightened. They'd gotten to his mom now, and he had nowhere else to turn. The dwarf spat at him, its hands gesturing, but he snapped his head away, knowing the consequence of letting the horrible creature work its magic on him. Rusty rushed forward, heading for the center of the park, looking desperately around for help. The place seemed deserted, and he knew the hour was getting late, but there still should be someone left.
Unless they were all under the sway of his enemies...He shuddered, tears forming at his eyes. His mother had been taken. His mother!
Rusty was in a world of shadows and nightmares. Everything he knew had been warped, and he felt the claws of evil closing in rapidly. He glanced back, but the carousel was out of sight. Tommy had been lost in the woods, his mother hypnotized, and his father was unreachable.
A building loomed before him, and his only thought was to place a door between himself and the diabolical pursuers. Exhausted, he couldn't run anymore.
Bounding up the wooden steps, he saw that the small building was the information center. With any luck there would a phone inside. He pulled the storm door, sighing immensely as he found it unlocked. Rusty burst through, slamming it closed behind him, clicking the bolt into place. He ran to the single window, fastening that lock. He then scanned the interior -- several cushioned chairs, a file cabinet, a small brown desk with a swivel seat, and a shaded lamp giving off adequate light. And...a phone laying on top of the desk.
He hurried over, snatching the receiver and pounding an emergency number, but his heart dropped as he heard no tone. The phone line was dead. Everything seemed to be stacked against him.
Rusty slumped into the chair, thinking of his next move, but froze as a soft 'click' sounded behind him. There was only one door, and the single window. Both were secure. His eyes narrowed as he then noticed a small closet, the door slowly moving outwards. Rusty braced himself, his heart pounding wildly as a small, familiar figure stepped forward.
The dwarf...
Shielding his eyes, he stood, unwilling to put his back to the vile creature. He was tired of running, and beyond the point of mindless fear. It was only one small creature, after all. As long as he didn't let the thing hypnotize him, he should be able to fight it off, or even kill it. Watching between the cracks of his hands, he moved slowly to the side, looking around for something to use as a weapon.
"Well, come on, you ugly creep. Come a little closer, and I'll knock that hat into the next county."
Rusty noticed that the dwarf wasn't wearing the hat, but it didn't matter. He spoke in confidence, showing the creature that he was not going to run anymore. The dwarf moved deliberately forward, out of the shadows. Its face was twisted and horrible. The nose was pointed, but something struck Rusty as being odd. He stared at the creature, which now made a gurgling noise, lifting its hands in the air towards him, reaching for something.
But it was time to act...
Rusty lunged forward, kicking the hideous thing and sending it flying against the wall. Exhilarated by his success, he kicked it several more times, the thing screaming in rage. After several moments, the dwarf lay still, battered and bleeding, its head facing the ceiling.
He approached cautiously, kneeling down to examine the wretched thing. The door to the building suddenly opened behind him, and to his shock another dwarf appeared. Shaking his head in disbelief, he backed away, unsure whether he was actually awake or sleeping. The nightmare wouldn't end.
Laughter broke the silence then, soft and utterly evil, and a gaunt figure stepped in behind the wicked creature. It was old man Berger...
Chuckling without a hint of warmth or mirth, Berger gazed at the boy with eyes of cracked sea-ice, green and cold. Dressed in black, face wintry and his skin lacking color, he looked more like a breathing corpse than anything else. He said nothing, but stared first at Rusty, then at the diminutive figure behind the boy. The injured dwarf gasped, lifting a finger towards Rusty.
The words were charred, pathetic and forsaken. But Rusty understood them.
"Your turn is coming, Rusty."
When he heard his name spoken, Rusty staggered in recognition and spun about, facing Berger's unforgiving face. The terrible man smiled, but his eyes smoldered with spite.
"Listen to your friend, yes?"
The other dwarf gurgled horribly.
Behind Rusty, the first dwarf moved, and Rusty stared deeply into the familiar eyes, his chest pained, his heart choked by dread and overwhelming pity.
"It's your turn now."
Rusty sobbed in defeat, looking at the terrible creature which he had once called his best friend. Tommy.
And now they would be together.
Eyes of the Hunted
Rusty had only a moment to think. Tommy lay before him on the floor, moaning, his lips pronouncing the horrible warning.
"It's your turn now."
He felt like he was melting as tears streamed down his cheeks, his resolve crumbling after the defeat of his friend, and his mom's downfall, both victims of old man Berger. It was too much for anyone to stand against, much less a young boy like himself. The real dwarf stood there now, making hideous gurgling noises in his throat, while Berger's smile grew wider and more wicked.
Too much...it was all too much for anyone to take, no less a young boy like himself.
But there was something inside of Rusty, deep down, that wouldn't quit. Not even after all these things. He'd survived last Halloween despite the terrible odds weighing against him and his companions. Moved on to a new home, made new friends. The shadow of the past never really left him, but in a way it served to strengthen the boy, make him cautious, smarter. And that part of him refused to give up now.
Surprising his captors, Rusty spun around, diving past them and bursting through the door. He'd felt their overconfidence, and calling on his own reserves, now took action to save himself. But it was too late for Tommy. And his mother?
Fighting back tears and the fear which threatened to overwhelm him, Rusty bounded into the night, leaving the Information Center behind. He heard a shout from his enemy, and that could only mean that the chase was on again. He ran past the carousel, hoping to catch a glimpse of his mom even though she was under Berger's power. Two twin girls were riding a matching pair of white horses accompanied by their father, all of them giggling and looking completely normal. It seemed so unfair...how could the world go on as if nothing unusual were happening, while his own life was being taken away?
He hurtled along, passing a vendor selling candy apples and huge cookies, the smell of warm spiced cider strong in the brisk night air. He could use a drink himself now, as his throat was parched, but he never slowed.
Rusty made for the entrance to the theme park, considering his options. Who could he turn to? No one from here, that was certain. Berger could have his servants planted anywhere inside, having already hypnotized -- or whatever it was he did -- several already, including his mom. No, he couldn't afford to face him here, where the trap had been laid. The police? They'd come to his aid last year, but would they even believe him now in this new town? A young boy on Halloween night, the eve of prank phone calls and nasty tricks, running rampant along the streets and sidewalks? Maybe Berger had got to them as well. No, but there was someone else though. His father...
Rusty's dad was the one person who could get him out of trouble again. He would realize the truth, and come to the rescue of his son and wife. But he was at work doing a double shift in his position of supervisor, and wouldn't be done until early morning. And somehow Rusty understood that tonight was the crucial time -- it had to be this night, Halloween.
Just like last year.
He didn't know the reason, or even why he felt so strongly about it, but he relied on his instincts to guide him. What else did he have left?
Rusty reached the parking area, spotting a bored-looking teenager carrying a lantern, waiting to direct any late arrivals. He peered over, eyeing him suspiciously. Rusty couldn't ask him for help, that was for sure. He tried to think of something quick, but both of them were suddenly distracted as an SUV pulled through the entry, and the parking attendant hurried over, waving his arms. Rusty hesitated, glancing over his shoulder.
There was no sign yet of Berger or the dwarf, or anything else that appeared threatening. And then he had an idea...
Half crouching, half running, he slipped between the rows of vehicles, stopping at a bicycle tie-up. Normally he would never have thought of such an act but his situation was desperate. He tugged on the various ropes and chains, hoping that someone would have been careless...Nothing yet. It would be just his luck if he was caught trying to steal one. Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea though.
There were two left; a yellow five-speed and a black mountain bike. Yes! The mountain bike had a rope wrapped around its handlebars, but there wasn't even a lock in place. Strictly a deterrent, or laziness. Silently thanking the owner, Rusty maneuvered it into the shadows and further away from the parking attendant, who was now out of view. Pulling his jacket tight, Rusty slipped on, finding his balance. It moved nicely, and he pedaled quietly through the grass field, giving himself plenty of leeway from the main entrance. In seconds he was on the road and moving swiftly away from the park and its horrors. But as to his next move, his mind could only chase itself around and around in dizzying circles, as the heavy cloak of horror tried to claim him as its own.
\*
Rusty glided through the twilight, the wind tugging at his jacket, cold and unfriendly. He skirted the very edge of town, his first thought only to put distance between himself and the haunted theme park with its very real monsters. He passed the occasional house, some of them dark and quiet, others harboring costumed ghosts and ghouls. More than once he almost stopped, on the verge of complete panic, but something held him back. He tried to understand what prevented him from going for help, and knew there was more than one reason. Berger might be close behind, and he held the upper hand now, with Rusty's mom under his control. So the most likely course of action would be either to stop at one of these homes, or go straight to the police. That's what anyone would do under the circumstances, right? But it wasn't that simple...There was something special about tonight.
Halloween.
Two years in a row, old man Berger had been active. Last fall the boys had gone out on an October raid, and had faced a harrowing night after their encounter at Berger's home. Rusty would never forget it. The police had investigated the following day, finding no trace except for the small hat with a bullet hole through it. Then nothing. The house was subsequently boarded up, the bank taking possession. The police filed it as an unusual case, placing Berger on their lookout list. And there the story ended, or so Rusty thought. Until today, and all the weird events leading up to his present situation. The spider in the mailbox, the footsteps in the attic, the dwarf in the park, and finally the appearance of Berger himself. But why tonight only? Was there some reason Rusty had been left alone until today?
He glanced at his watch. It was now past nine, and the night was deepening. Clouds covered the sky overhead, and the moon seemed to be already weary of Halloween. Like himself.
He passed by a small farm, suspiciously watching the neat rows of haystacks. Tall oak trees guarded the left side of the road, their gnarled trunks holding up skeletal branches which had relinquished their leaves. In the distance he spotted the farm house sitting several hundred yards down a dirt lane. Here he paused for a moment, catching his breath and resting his legs, which were beginning to cramp. He leaned forward on the handlebars, feeling clammy hands beneath his clothing, a mix of fear and exertion.
The youth looked around at his surroundings. The farmer had placed a number of decorations at the end of his lane. Gourds huddled together, pumpkins grinned eerily in the twilight, and a pair of tall scarecrows were staked on either side like grim ushers. They both had jack-o'-lantern heads, and one of them glittered from an unseen candle wick. It seemed a bit reckless to chance a fire, but Rusty didn't care to dwell on it -- he had much more important things on his mind.
Dismounting, he placed the bike on the ground, glancing behind him down the road as he looked for signs of pursuit. The landscape was empty, and no cars were in sight. But the land itself was alive. In the high grass crickets chirped, their songs subdued as the season grew late. Soon they would be silenced until next summer. A pair of screech owls called in the distance, and to Rusty's ears it was comforting. Normal. The boy sat down, propping himself against the harvest decorations. He was very tired, but he could only stay for a few moments. That was it.
His breathing slowed, and he found his eyelids fluttering. No! Stay awake, he told himself. Swallowing deeply, he felt the dryness in his throat, wishing for a tall glass of iced tea, a soda, anything. His legs ached, his arms were sore, his back stiff. It had been a dreadful night, filled with horrors. When would it end? Would it ever end?
Resting, he felt himself drift away.
Time passed, and Rusty's eyes snapped open as he awoke with a start.
Something had touched his arm...
He immediately came to his full senses, the weariness melting into the night. And the terror returned with a vengeance. Rusty stood, turning around at the same time. What had touched him?
And then he knew.
His heart pounding in fear, he watched as the scarecrow behind him -- the one with the candle inside -- lifted an arm. Impossible! And then Rusty realized that there was no candle inside the straw head at all.
The pair of orange pinpricks were eyes...
He backed away, nearly falling over his bike. He wasn't about to wait around and see what the thing would do next. Snatching the bicycle, the boy leaped on, half-running, half-riding away in revulsion.
"Rusty..."
Even moving so quickly, it was not fast enough to prevent the horrible rasping words from reaching his ears. He stormed off into the night, his breath coming in ragged gulps.
And he prayed, tears forming in his eyes.
Rusty prayed that the scarecrow's voice only sounded like his father's.
\*
There seemed to be no escaping Berger's power. He'd possessed some strange ability last year, there was no doubt. But it seemed mostly explainable, in some way. Mostly, although the answering machine recording was bizarre...But the rest, powers of hypnosis, persuasion. The dwarf was certainly flesh and blood, nothing beyond that. But there were things happening tonight that went far past any normal explanation. Like Tommy, being shrunken down to the size of Berger's dwarf. And now, the hideous scarecrow. How could that happen? There was something extraordinary about these things. And very unnatural.
He sped along the road, passing one or two homes, both of them with few or no lights on. He felt like he was caught in one of his grade school sing-songs about Halloween...
October is here and Halloween is coming,
Monsters will be coming after you.
Black and mean sneaks the witches' cat, gleaming eyes, a big dead rat.
Skeletons jump in a bony dance, goblins scream in an ugly prance.
Don't look now,
They're coming after you!
A terrible song for a terrible night. And here he was, trapped inside the lyrics, running wildly from one snare into another, with little doubt as to where, or how, it would all end for him. A victim of old man Berger. He didn't know why he'd been chosen, but Berger had marked Rusty, using his friends and family to get to him.
The roads were less familiar to the boy now, but he still knew where he was. Before him lay a fork. To the left would take him down countless acres of more farmland, and he didn't relish the notion of being caught again in the middle of nowhere. The next trap could be the last...The right fork led directly to his old town, only a few short miles away now. And it was getting late. Soon, Halloween would melt into dawn, and October would be over once again. But if things were left unchanged, what would the new month bring? His family and friends pawns of Berger? No, Rusty wanted everything to end this night, and he refused to wait another year to see what fate had in store for him.
Tonight it would be over.
For better or worse...
Rusty hurried off, taking the right fork, a vague shadow bleeding into even darker ones.
\*
Without mishap, Rusty finally entered the streets of his old town. Nothing had changed. Tall oak trees lined the pavements like gnarled sentinels. Lawns were neat and orderly, gutters recently cleared of dead leaves. He glanced at porches on either side of him. There was one with glimmering jack-o'-lanterns and plastic cauldrons. Another with a flashing blue strobe light and enormous cobwebs strangling the rafters. He cruised along, recognizing many of them now as he approached his own neighborhood.
Yes, Charlie Brikett's place with the white fence and pumpkin leaf bags. Mrs. Howell's home, a kindly widow who always handed out boxes of orange juice and chocolate brownies. Homemade yet...Always the best. He could eat a whole batch of them right now.
The streets were silent though. It was past the trick-or-treat hour, and all the little ghouls and vampires were inside sampling their wares, or perhaps watching the old black-and-white horror flicks. The littlest ones were probably being tucked into bed, fighting against the sugar rush. Rusty knew that there was a special magic about this time of the night, deep into Halloween, when only the worst of the pranksters would dare to roam the neighborhood, avoiding police and adults alike. Last year, Rusty had been one of them. But his adolescent adventure had turned into a nightmare when they'd encountered old man Berger. And his life had changed drastically since then. Like people always said, there was no going back.
Well, that wasn't quite true...Rusty had gone back by returning to his old town, his childhood stomping grounds. And he missed it, he realized. All the other emotions he'd been feeling now fell away, and a quiet anger built inside, growing stronger.
Berger had taken this precious place away from him. Taken away most of his friends due to his family moving. Taken Tommy, turned him into something...horrible. His mother -- under Berger's control. Maybe even his dog Krypto, although there wasn't any proof of this last one. The poor shepherd ran away only a few weeks after last year's harrowing night, in late November. Despite signs being placed all over town, and searching for an entire week, they hadn't found him. The loss hurt Rusty badly, and he still hadn't fully recovered.
Yes, Rusty was very angry, and tired of running. Now it was time to think, plan his next move, before the night grew too late. He needed to go on the offense for once...certainly Berger hadn't given up on pursuing his own wickedness. No, there was still time left. Halloween would hold on until the sun came up. It had to...
Moving cautiously through the streets, he start taking alleyways so he could stay away from prying eyes. Of course, he was more than a bit leery about riding alone in the blackness, but the sky overhead had cleared somewhat, giving him occasional glimpses of the moon through tree branches. Then Rusty made a decision, deciding on a course of action. Brave, foolhardy, or maybe just desperate, his mind was made up.
He was going to old man Berger's house.
There he might find the answers to what he was seeking, maybe even a solution. But as to what that could be, there was no way of knowing. Yet...
As he tossed around ideas, his heart skipped a beat as several figures emerged from the gloom, bursting from a hedgerow.
\*
"Stop!"
Rusty tried veering away but it was too late. He crashed headlong into someone, sending them both sprawling to the ground in a whirlwind of shouts and confusion. He went flying over the handlebars and landed onto soft earth, narrowly avoiding the much harsher stone of the alley. The wind knocked out of him, he struggled madly to regain his feet, but found himself surrounded by several figures, and a light flashed into his eyes, momentarily blinding him.
"Hey. It's Rusty!"
His mind still scrambling, Rusty felt a glimmer of hope when he heard the voice. A familiar voice...
Jimmy Krick!
"What in the world are you doing here?"
Rusty needed a moment to relax and catch his breath, but he finally answered. "I could say the same thing, but man, am I glad to see you."
Jimmy gestured that everything was all right to the others, who all appeared to be young boys around Rusty's age. Looking at them in the dim light, Rusty actually recognized one or two. There was Flick Ritter, and another boy was Matt something or other...The last one he didn't know.
"Well, you're not trick-or-treating, and the last I heard you still lived out of town. So what are you doing out here this late?"
"You wouldn't believe it if I told you...and I don't see a costume, but you're still ugly as ever." Rusty grinned, and Jimmy appreciated the joke. They had been through a lot last year, after all.
"Try me. And we're just heading home now, probably the last ones out for the night. But you know me..."
"Yeah, and I remember us both saying we were retiring from raiding."
"Guess it's in my blood."
Rusty nodded sadly. "Not in mine anymore. I don't think I'll ever like Halloween again."
"Well, it was pretty crazy last year. I don't blame you. But what are you doing back here?"
Some of the boys fidgeted, and Flick spoke up. "Jimmy, I gotta' go. If my dad finds out I'm home this late, I'm dead meat."
"Me too..." Another boy chimed in.
"All right, see you guys tomorrow."
They all left in the same direction, leaving Rusty and Jimmy alone. Rusty lowered his voice, looking at the retreating figures. "It's old man Berger."
"What?"
"I don't have time to explain everything, but he's got Tommy." He hesitated. "And my mom..."
Jimmy's eyes grew wide with fright. "No way."
"Yeah."
"I don't believe it..."
"I don't either. But I'm still awake. So I have to believe it."
Jimmy looked long and hard at him. "You know, anyone else tells me this and I say they're full of crap. But I know you pretty good. And you're here right now."
"Uh-huh. He's coming after me. Maybe you too."
"You're scaring me."
"I have to do something about it. Tonight. I have this weird feeling that stuff happens only on Halloween, and I don't want another year to go by waiting to see if he'll be back. I have to try and help my mom. Maybe my dad too. I think it's too late for Tommy."
"What happened to him?"
"Berger turned him into a dwarf."
"Whoa..." Jimmy held up his hands. "No freakin' way. Nope."
"Believe it or not then. I didn't know it was him, but..." His voice trailed off as he remembered the horrible encounter. His stomach felt like a big empty pit. He continued. "I really have to hurry, Jimmy. And I'm going to Berger's house now. Be careful on your way home. You really never know what's out there waiting."
He walked over to the bike, picking it up from the ground.
"Wait."
Rusty looked over his shoulder.
"I do believe you. How couldn't I after what happened last year?" He shrugged. "I'm coming with you." The boy straightened, some of the old flair returning. "You need someone crazy like me around for something this dangerous..."
Scared or not, Rusty managed a weak smile.
\*
It looked the same.
Berger's house was creepy as ever. Maybe worse. Boarded up, shutters unhinged, cloaked in shadows, with a NO TRESPASSING sign staked next to the crumbling steps. It looked haunted. And Rusty knew it really was haunted in some way...
"Around the back?" Jimmy whispered to him.
"Yeah."
"This is where it all began. Well, let's get this over with."
Both boys hurried forward, shoulders hunched over. The street was quiet, and it had always been an isolated nook of the small town anyway. Only a few other homes were on the block, all of them old, although nothing compared with Berger's spook house. Rusty shivered at the chill air, the temperature continuing to drop. It had been a long, harrowing night, with seemingly no end. Disaster lurked around every corner. Danger waited for him, knew his name. He tried not to think about his parents, instead focusing on what lay before them, and what he might do to help them escape from Berger's power. He just had to find a way.
They crept along the side of the house, keeping free of the clutching thorn bushes that lined the wall. Jimmy seemed to be fearless, boldly going first, hesitating, then reaching the back porch. Here's where it had all happened, Rusty thought, as both boys stared at the forbidding kitchen entrance. Here's where Berger had taken Jimmy, hypnotized him somehow, made him his puppet. And now they'd returned again, one year later. Jimmy was already pulling at the handle, and to their surprise it easily turned in his grasp. He snapped his head back at Rusty.
Too easy. Something's wrong.
Jimmy tried the inside door. It was open as well. Neglect? Or maybe Berger had been using it recently, unknown to the neighbors or police. Of course, the other possibility, and the most unpleasant one, was that it smelled of a trap. But how could Berger know that Rusty would come back here of all places? The man was cunning, held some type of weird power, but Rusty refused to believe that he knew everything he was thinking. Or might be thinking.
Jimmy looked back at him.
"Let's go." Rusty whispered. "We won't find any answers standing around out here."
Joining the other boy, Rusty pushed the frame inwards, and they now stood in the kitchen. Jimmy pulled out a flashlight, and they examined the interior. Cobwebs fluttered about like the dried husks of ghosts. The table was empty, the counter bare.
"The bank probably cleaned the place out. They'll turn over a grave to find a penny. At least that's what my mom said once..." Jimmy shrugged.
Rusty frowned. Where to start? If anything important was still to be found here, it wouldn't be out in the open, he reasoned. "Let's try the basement or attic."
Both were unpleasant choices, and neither of them were in a rush to try their slim options. But time was running out.
"I don't know," Jimmy whispered. "Basement first. It's closer. Probably right behind that door." He pointed at the single door in the room, walking towards it. Leading the way with his flashlight, Rusty was on his heels.
"Stay close. I'm really getting the creeps big time." Jimmy's face looked scared, his usual confidence melting away in the silent home of their enemy. Rusty felt something in the walls around him as well. A quiet, patient sense of malice. Evil had lived here. Still might. Bad things had happened here. And he didn't care to find out any details. His instincts were strong enough to quench any doubts.
They descended the stairs, finding them to be steep, old, and in disrepair. The floorboards moaned with each footstep, sending shivers down both their spines. After nearly two dozen steps, they reached the bottom. Jimmy's light illuminated a large room, filled with boxes that appeared empty. A solitary light bulb was fixed to the center, and Rusty walked forward, trying it. The bulb was dead.
"Let's look around, maybe we can find something."
"What are we looking for?"
"I don't know. Just...something interesting, maybe?"
"Rusty, I hate to tell you this, but your plan's really bad."
They rummaged around, searching for anything which seemed unusual or out of place. Rusty didn't have a clue as to what they were looking for, but he knew this house held secrets, and he was determined to unlock them. After long moments though, they came up empty-handed.
"Now what?"
Rusty ignored the question, still looking. He felt along the walls, which were cold and unpleasantly damp to the touch. Shaking his head, he stood back, his search revealing nothing. He looked at the floor again.
"Wait. That carpet."
"What about it?" Jimmy glanced upstairs nervously. "Did you hear something?"
Rusty followed his gaze in alarm. "No," he whispered. "And I hope you didn't either."
"If Berger finds us down here, we're trapped."
Rusty tried not to think about it..."Lift the carpet up." Bending over, he pulled it back, while Jimmy stared at the steps. "Wait, I think I found something."
He had. There was a metal latch fixed into the floor, one that just might be the opening to a trap door. He bit his lower lip in excitement. "Let's see what we can see..."
\*
While Jimmy fidgeted, Rusty pulled the handle up, exposing a hidden compartment. He coughed as dust swirled all around, and now Jimmy cautiously approached, scanning the opening with his flashlight. "You're right. It was underneath the old carpet." He leaned forward as Rusty knelt on the floor.
"Look. There's a bag, and something else. I don't know, it's like a piece of rock. That's strange."
"Everything is strange around here. Hurry up and open that bag."
But Rusty didn't feel quite like hurrying right now. What if it was a trap? He paused, tossing things around. He'd certainly come too far to stop. Too much was on the line. And if Berger could outguess him at every turn, then he was destined to lose anyway. But somehow he didn't believe it. The man had powers, but had to have a weakness. They only had to find out what it was. Maybe...
They both snapped their heads up together. Something moved upstairs, there was no question. They locked frightened stares, the same word on both their lips. Berger...
Rusty moved quickly now, his fear molding into action. They didn't know what was up there, but based on past experience, it probably wasn't anything good. He opened the sack now, grabbing the light from Jimmy's trembling hands. Pouring the contents onto the floor, his mouth opened in surprise. It was full of things, different things. Familiar things.
One of his sneakers he'd thought lost for over a year. A belt buckle which looked like the one his dad wore all the time, until it had mysteriously vanished at home, to the bewilderment of his parents. A necklace which looked similar to one his mom had lost. Yes! It had to be the same one. The pattern was identical.
Then his heart skipped a beat. He picked up a black collar. Krypto's dog collar.
His eyes smoldered like cinders in a fire...
Jimmy stared at him, shaking his head in confusion. "I don't understand. What does it mean?" He whispered, his voice on the verge of breaking. They heard another sound upstairs, coming from the middle of the house.
"Wait. That's my watch." He grabbed a small blue watch from the pile. "What's it doing here? I lost it, well, last year."
"Before Halloween?"
Jimmy hesitated for a second. "Yeah."
Rusty nodded. "This stuff was stolen. It has to be the way Berger controls people. And look. There's lots of things in here. Maybe from half the people in town. He's up to something real bad."
"But how does he do it, even with all of this?"
Confused, Rusty sat back on his heels, thinking. He was extremely worried at the prospect of being caught down here, but they couldn't just run now after finding the trap door. Old man Berger had concealed these items for a reason. It had to be how he controlled people. But what about the rock? He stared at it for a moment, then noticed a crumpled sheet of paper in the corner of the compartment. Snatching it, he unwrinkled the parchment, shining the light over it. There were words written on the front, but the language wasn't English.
It was German.
And he knew German. Heck, his grandparents were from Germany. Berger was too, or so everyone thought. So...what did it mean, if anything? He squinted, trying to decipher the paper.
Another sound from upstairs. Footsteps.
And they were moving...
Jimmy was nearly hysterical, and he went towards one of the windows, messing with the latch, but Rusty continued to read, the glimmer of an explanation forming in his mind.
"This mentions the Brocken Mountain back in the old country. Germany."
Jimmy ignored him, prying open the window and starting to scramble up. "Come on..."
"This rock is supposedly a piece of an old ring of stones from there. I know the history. The locals say the place is home to witches. The Hartz Witches. And Berger brought it back with him...wait a second. That's it. This thing holds some power, and he taps into it. It makes sense, I mean, I don't understand how, but..."
He stopped as the footsteps were in the kitchen now.
Near the doorway.
Jimmy was already outside, his feet kicking madly for purchase, and Rusty knew it seemed the smart thing for him to be doing as well. But his skin grew cold as Jimmy shouted in surprise.
And Rusty now knew they had definitely walked into a trap.
\*
Jimmy fell backwards with a crash, knocking over a crate he'd used to climb through the window. Rusty moved over to help him, but his friend quickly recovered.
"The dwarf is out there..."
But Rusty's instincts had already told him this. And the footsteps upstairs could only mean one thing -- the chase was finally up. There was no escape this time. They would have to confront Berger. Rusty understood it would be the last time as well. The stairs creaked as someone slowly came down. Next to him Jimmy was shaking, all his earlier bravery melted away. Rusty's mind scrambled madly as he tried to come up with a plan. The items. The stone. Berger. The Hartz Witches.
Low chuckling drifted down from the shadows, the sound full of malice and confidence.
"Rusty, he's got us. I don't want to be hypnotized again."
Or worse, Rusty thought.
"Yes, it's your turn now."
October is here and Halloween is coming,
Monsters will be coming after you.
Black and mean sneaks the witches' cat, gleaming eyes, a big dead rat.
Skeletons jump in a bony dance, goblins scream in an ugly prance.
Don't look now,
They're coming after you!
The song danced in Rusty's head, the childhood Halloween tune. He remembered sitting with a few of his friends on the carpet, the kindergarten teacher clapping and laughing, encouraging the youngsters to participate and sing along. Back then, he avoided singing, his head downcast. He didn't like the song, either the melody or the words. It had scared him. And years later, he came to the realization that some of the stories they told children were true....
"The game is over. It's time to join your friends and family, yes?"
No, not while he could still fight. Rusty looked at the rock, an idea coming to him. If only there was something...
"The night is growing long, we have things to do. Beyond the ocean in the old country, your family knew me then. You didn't know this, of course. But they served me well, just like you will do now."
That really hurt. Rusty was frightened, but angry too. He scanned the floor for something he'd seen a few minutes ago. It was up to him to take action. Jimmy cowered against the wall, his eyes glassy. Maybe Berger was attempting to make the connection once more, bring the boy under his control. Desperately, Rusty flashed the beam across the room. Berger was nearly down the steps, and a small figure wriggled through the window.
Their old nemesis, Berger's evil companion.
Wait...there it was! A hammer lay partially concealed beneath some cardboard. It was twisted and rusted, but would have to do. He grabbed it, then hurried back to the trapdoor. Raising the tool over his head, he breathed a silent prayer that his idea would work, ignoring the possibility that something unexpected -- and considerably worse -- might happen. He needed to take that chance. There were no other options.
His first blow landed hard, but off-center. A small piece of the rock chipped off, flying in the air and skidding to the bottom of the stairs, right at Berger's feet. A look of surprise crossed the old man's face. Genuine surprise. And fear.
Again Rusty struck the stone, sending small fragments in every direction.
"Stop him!"
The dwarf made a horrible gurgling sound, then dove straight at Rusty's feet.
"Jimmy, help get this creep away from me."
But his friend seemed locked in stone himself, his arms dangling uselessly at his sides. The dwarf tried to knock him down, and Rusty kicked him in the face several times. From the corner of his eye, Rusty saw Berger reach into his cloak, drawing out a wicked looking knife. He knew that Berger meant to finish him off. The game was really over.
Then another sound came from outside, as if some wild creature had found easy prey. Rusty listened in horror. Could Berger conjure up demons as well?
He smashed the stone again, hardly doing any damage at all. Dismayed, he fought madly against his smaller adversary, kicking him back several yards. Berger hovered nearby, the knife in his hand, but he also had been distracted by the noise from outside. Without warning, a large shape crashed through the window with blinding speed, and Rusty cried out in alarm. Jimmy also shouted, fighting to break Berger's hold on him, and he lunged at the dwarf, pounding him in the head. Rusty braced himself for another attack, wondering what he now faced, but the creature ignored him, instead going for Berger...
Rusty felt his heart pound as he got a close-up look at this new intruder. It was a large dog.
Krypto!
He screamed, not knowing if it was a laugh or a yell, and not really caring. It was Krypto! His dog! Why, he must have been under a spell as well, now released since Rusty had recovered his collar. The animal growled, savagely attacking Berger and knocking the weapon from his hand. Hope restored, Rusty smashed the rock repeatedly, making some real headway now. Again and again he brought the hammer down, until the rock was little more than a thousand bits of broken stone. Krypto had Berger cornered, and Jimmy seemed to have beaten down the old man's minion. Both boys stared at their enemy, waiting to see what his next move would be.
But there was none...
Berger raised a fist, shouting at them both in German. Rusty understood most of what he said, but for the first time he also heard something else in the man's voice -- desperation. The past encounters had shown him to be completely confident, in total control. Now, he appeared gaunt and pathetic.
Rusty moved towards him. "I've destroyed the stone and found the things you stole from us. Now, it's your turn..."
Berger slumped against the wall, and Rusty stroked Krypto's head. "You came back to me. I thought I'd lost you." He felt tears run down his cheek. Jimmy stood at his side. Before them, Berger seemed to shrink in size, growing smaller, and within moments all that was left was his clothing. There was no sign of the man.
Jimmy turned around. "Look. He's gone as well."
It was true. The dwarf had also disappeared, leaving only his small suit and the hat. Jimmy picked it up.
"Last year this was all that was left. Now we have the whole costume." He laughed, the relief spreading across his face.
"Two costumes." Rusty added. "And one big, wonderful puppy." He hugged Krypto, who licked him on the face.
"No one's ever gonna' believe this. I don't believe it." Jimmy shook his head. "And this time, it's really over."
"I'm going to return all this stuff to whoever it belongs to. And my mom, and Tommy..." Rusty hesitated. "They're free now. We're all free now."
"I wonder what he planned on doing? With us, with everything?" Jimmy pointed to the stone fragments.
Rusty shook his head. "We'll never really know. I don't think I want to know either. He was evil, from the old country. Somehow we were connected. My family, me. I guess he wanted to use us for whatever he had in mind. But I don't care anymore. I just want to go back home."
"Yeah, you're right. My dad is going to kill me..." He stopped. "After all this, bad choice of words. Oh well, I've been late before. And it is Halloween, you know. What would Halloween be like without some real tricks?"
"Safer," Rusty answered. "A lot safer."
"Maybe we should listen to our own advice from last year."
"What do you mean?"
"About retiring from raiding."
Rusty looked mischievously around him. "You mean you didn't have any fun tonight?"
Jimmy's mouth opened in surprise, but before he could reply, Krypto barked, answering for him.
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