Pumpkin

Rod Serling’s

The

Magazine

In the tradition of his contributions to the legendary magazine
Weird Tales
(with a dash of E.C. Comics thrown in for good measure), we present Robert Bloch's
Pumpkin,
a gleefully ghoulish Halloween treat.

PUMPKIN

Copyright © 1984 by Robert Bloch

Rod Serling’s
The Twilight Zone Magazine

(Issn # 0279-6090)
November/December, 1984
Volume 4, Number 5

Illustrations by George Chastain

TZ Publications
(a division of)
Montcalm Publishing Corporation
800 Second Avenue
New York, NY 10017

Printed in the United States of America

ight came early in the country.

The sun disappeared into the woods and shadows started slinking out from between the trees. Twilight brought a chill wind whipping across fallen leaves and in the distance the huddling hills were hidden in autumn haze.

That’s when David began moving through the farmhouse, locking the doors and windows.

It was a regular ritual now, but tonight Vera rebelled.

“For heaven’s sake, must you close things up so early? We’ll suffocate in here without fresh air.”

David didn’t answer. Instead he opened the kitchen cabinet, pulled out the vodka bottle, and poured himself a shot.

“Please, David,” she said, “couldn’t you wait until after dinner? I’ll have it on the table just as soon as Billy shows up.”

David was staring out the window, squinting at the woods across the road, but now he turned and his eyes widened.

“I thought he was in his room,” he said. “How often do I have to tell you I don’t want that kid outside when it gets dark?”

“But he’s just across the way—”

David turned so quickly that Vera got only a momentary glimpse of his face, but what she saw frightened her because he looked so frightened. And now he was hurrying to the door, flinging it open, rushing out.

As Vera moved to the window she could see him running across the road and into the tangled, weed-choked remnants of the vegetable garden beside the old Holloway place. Then he was swallowed up in the dusk and Helen lost sight of him.

I lost sight of him a long time ago,
she told herself.
Ever since we moved here to the farmhouse.

Perhaps it started even earlier than that, back in town, when David was terminated just before Easter.

“Terminated, hell!” he’d raged. “Bastards fired me, that’s what they did. Ten years working my butt off for the company and now they’re giving my job to a lousy computer!”

“It’s not the end of the world,” Vera said. “There must be other openings for controllers and you know a lot of people in the business. The thing to do is start making some calls, get out a résumé.”

So David called around and circulated his résumé. He had several promising interviews, a few nibbles, and no firm offers. By Labor Day they’d run through his severance pay, and it was then that Vera suggested moving to the farm.

“You’re out of your mind,” he said. “I’m an accountant, not a manure-spreader.”

“No one expects you to work the place, darling. But it’s only forty minutes from town on the turnpike and if you get a job—”

“If? I’ll land something, just be patient.”

“I am patient,” Vera told him. “But we’re already digging into our savings. And here you have a perfectly good piece of property your uncle left you, standing idle all these years, where we can live rent-free.”

“That’s crazy,” David said. “The whole place is rundown—cost a fortune just to fix it up halfway decently.”

Vera shook her head. “We’ve got our furniture and the appliances. Maybe we’ll have to spend some money on minor repairs, but the house is sound. I’m sure we can manage on far less than we’re paying here. Besides, it’ll be good for Billy, living in the country. And it will be good for you too, getting away from this rat race.”

“I don’t want to go there,” David told her. “And that’s final.”

Only it wasn’t final. Vera went right ahead on her own and made all the arrangements. Their lease on the apartment was up at the end of the month and by then she’d got the painters and carpenter and the electrical contractor working against the deadline. Just as she thought, it was no big deal.

The big deal turned out to be persuading David to make the move. But she kept after him, and when it came to facing the hike in the new leasing agreement he finally saw the light.

They’d moved in at the beginning of October, and even David had to admit she’d done a wonderful job transforming the old farmhouse into a comfortable home. Billy lost a few weeks of school but for an eight-year-old it wasn’t important, and he liked his new surroundings—ten full acres to run wild in, plus the woods behind the abandoned Holloway place across the road.

But right from the start David put his foot down. He didn’t want Billy playing anywhere near the deserted farmhouse with its caved-in roof, and served notice that the woods were strictly off-limits; in fact, he wasn’t permitted to cross the road at all.

Vera could understand about the farmhouse because it was boarded-up, and there was no telling if the structure was safe. What she couldn’t understand was why Billy couldn’t play in the yard or the wooded area beyond.

“Private property,” David said. “No trespassing. Folks out here are funny about such things.”

Vera tried to reason with him. “There’s nobody living within a mile of this place. And Billy isn’t going to harm anything.”

“That’s not the point. I don’t want anything to harm Billy.”

“What do you mean?”

David didn’t answer her. But it was then she began to notice the way he acted every night as darkness came, locking everything up. Vera believed in taking precautions—after all, you never know who might be driving around nowadays, looking for a place to break into—but he started so early, even before twilight, and if he found anything left open by accident he blew his stack.

But it was the drinking that bothered her the most. Back in town they usually had a cocktail before dinner to help him unwind when he came home from work. Now there was no work and he wasn’t sharing a martini with her; he was drinking straight vodka and going through as much as half a bottle a night. He’d gotten into the habit of sleeping all morning and watching television all afternoon. Funny, he’d always hated soap operas before. Maybe he still did because he never commented on them, just sat staring at the tube with a sort of glazed look in his eyes. But when Billy came home on the school bus, David turned off the set and the glazed look disappeared. He watched the youngster like a hawk if he went out to play, and chewed Vera out for not doing the same.

It’s David I should have been looking at, not Billy.
Vera frowned, peering through the window.
Where did I lose him?

She found him now, moving forth from the deep shadows across the road and pulling Billy along by the collar. As they neared the house she could hear the muffled sound of sobbing.

Now David’s voice rose as Vera opened the door. “I warned you, remember? Why didn’t you keep away from there like you were told?”

Billy raised a tear-stained face. “Honest, I was only—”

“Never mind the excuses! I give the orders here and don’t you forget it. I want you to march upstairs to your room and go straight to bed.”

“But Dad—”

“You heard me. Now get going!”

Shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs, Billy made his way up the staircase as his parents stood watching in the hall, avoiding each other’s gaze. The sound of his footsteps faded and they heard the bedroom door closing in the hall above.

Vera turned, speaking softly. “Really, David, must you? The poor kid hasn’t even had his dinner.”

“It won’t hurt him to miss a meal. And he’s got to learn to obey the rules. I don’t want him going over there.”

Vera took a deep breath. “You keep saying that, but you never give any reasons. Just as long as he keeps away from the house I don’t see—”

“You don’t see anything,” David said. “Come on, let’s eat. I’m starving.”

But when she served dinner David didn’t seem hungry. He scarcely touched his food; instead he got up and poured himself another drink, bringing the bottle back to the table with him.