Mischief Night (6 page)

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
un
natural.

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...