Читать книгу Spindle Lane - Mark Reefe - Страница 9

Chapter 3

After a quick bite and shower, I was off to Paul’s to spend the night. Taking the Blue Beast would have been tricky with the stockpile of board games I was lugging, so I decided to walk the six blocks to his place. On any given summer night, Spindle was buzzing with activity. Whether it was adults walking off second helpings of baked beans or potato salad or screeching packs of kids locked in a heated game of wild hunt—our local souped-up version of tag—chances were you’d run into someone. But tonight was eerily quiet. A full moon floated high above, showering the neighborhood in cool blue light.

In this wonderful netherworld of moon shadows, my imagination began creeping and crawling like kudzu. As I passed the Staubachs’ house, my body grew heavy. Eyes were on me, weighing me down with heavy stares. To my left and right, they watched from the inky darkness. A chill swept over me and I shuddered.

“Stop it,” I whispered. “Not even five minutes out the door, and you’re already imagining sleestak and zombies. Why do you have to be such a freak?”

As if answering the question, snapping twigs drew my attention to a cluster of pines on my right. I froze and stared into the blackness. The logical side of my brain suggested the source of the disturbance was probably a squirrel or maybe a cat.

The other side of my brain was quick to counter. It was the contrary and often crazy side that was constantly getting me into trouble. Too big to be a squirrel or cat; they don’t break sticks.

Maybe a big dog then?

Maybe…maybe something else.

Like what?

Dozens of pairs of shiny blue marbles fluttered open from the shadows. Unblinking, they watched me with an alien hunger. The eyes had mouths beneath them, mouths with pointy teeth that gnashed up and down as whispers drifted on the night air.

I leaned close to hear them.

Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. He sees you.

I was ninety-five percent sure the eyes, teeth, and ominous words were the products of my crazy side, but it didn’t make them any less real to me.

My left leg moved forward first, followed by my right. Something pulled me toward the darkness and the mouths. More of them appeared. Teeth and eyes, eyes and teeth. They were whispering again. He’s watching you. No noses. No ears. Just fangs and glowing blue eyes hovering in the pitch black as if by magic. I stepped off the street and over the curb. They would have me soon.

“Evening, Master Dwyer. Out for a twilight stroll I see.”

The thunk of a game-packed milk crate hitting the pavement echoed down Spindle as I dropped my precious cargo and threw up my fists. “Whaa!”

The moonlight shined off of Mr. Hutchinson’s silver hair. “My apologies. Didn’t mean to give you a start. I was just stretching my legs and enjoying the cool evening air. It truly is a beautiful night, don’t you think?” He gazed into the sea of eyes and teeth. “Something scurrying around back in there? I would be careful if I were you, son. The Packards said they spotted a skunk in their backyard yesterday. With the moon as lustrous as it is, our normally crepuscular friend could very well be on the prowl.”

The only things I heard were moon and skunk. I looked back into the shadows and saw nothing but black. I said the only thing that came to mind. “Huh?”

“Are you quite all right?”

“I’m—I’m fine, sir,” I said while leaning over to pick up my crate. Fortunately, the drop had been a clean one and there were no casualties. With my cargo safely secured, I returned to the paved road and started back toward Paul’s. “Just thought I heard something messing around under the trees. Must have been some squirrels or maybe that skunk. Thanks for the heads up. Gotta go.”

“Take care young man, and stay on the beaten path. And remember, beware the Jabberwock!”

Something was familiar about his warning, but I couldn’t remember where I’d heard it before. When I looked back at Mr. Hutchinson, his leathery face was hard. “What?”

“It’s said he has jaws that bite and claws that catch.”

I stood silent and stared at him, wondering if old man Hutchinson was as nuts as Paul and most of the other kids thought he was.

A smile split across his stony face, and he began laughing. “Just a little levity, Master Dwyer. Compliments of Lewis Carroll.”

He was the strangest man I’d ever met. Bonus points for Mr. Hutchinson. “Umm, okay. Goodnight, sir.”

With a nod and a wink, he turned and continued on his way up Spindle.

Only minutes back into my journey, the weight of imagined eyes returned. This time I decided not to look into the darkness for fear of falling under their spell again. My parents say I’m blessed with an amazing imagination, but from experience I knew there were times it could go seriously Dark Side and send me on what amounted to a bad trip. A little spook and nudge would push me over the edge, and down into the rabbit hole I’d go.

I started jogging.

Though my street was deserted, there was always traffic on Belair and Stonybrook. If I could just make it to the end of Spindle where it intersected with the busier roads, I would be safe. It was Survival 101. Creatures of the night didn’t like leaving witnesses when they attacked. Everybody knew that.

All fell silent behind me, but that meant nothing. There were things that could move without making a sound. There were shadow demons. There were wraiths. Such things, though never heard, could be felt when they approached. The nearer they got to you, the more you tingled. From the base of the spine all the way up to the back of the neck and then the brain, you felt the prickle of impending doom. By the time the goosebumps broke out, it was too late. I looked down to my forearms and saw an army of tiny hairs standing at attention.

I broke into a sprint. Ahead a car whizzed up Belair while another passed in the opposite direction. Good, it was busy. With refuge just seconds away, an urgency washed over me. I wasn’t going to do it. Looking back would be a mistake. It always was. But I couldn’t stop myself. I glimpsed over my right shoulder. Something dashed across the street behind me. It was dark and blurred, but it was definitely there. “Fuuaaaaggghh!”

I don’t know what the word meant; it just burst out of me. I think I started to curse but—despite my terror-induced state—I still managed to censor myself and utter something completely dorky.

I kept running, being careful not to lose grip of my cargo once more. A few seconds later, I hung a left onto Belair. Once safe, I eased up and jogged the rest of the way to Paul’s.

His older brother Perry opened the door. As far as brothers went, Perry wasn’t a complete tool. He was okay most of the time, but every now and then he would get a hair up his butt and mess with Paul and me for no reason other than that he could. Of course, Steve did the same thing. It must have been something in the big brother code: be nice for five days out of the week and then a complete dingleberry for the remaining two.

“Why are you all sweaty and breathing heavy?”

“Just getting some exercise,” I wheezed out. “Where’s Paul?”

A smirk rose on Perry’s lightly freckled face, and his blue eyes flared with excitement as he waved me in. “Oh, he’s here. Just can’t come to the door right now.”

Something was up; he was way too happy to see me.

At seventeen and fifteen, Perry and Paul were the youngest of the Perret family. With five girls and three boys, it was pretty much guaranteed something was always going on in the house. But tonight it was strangely quiet.

“Where is everybody?”

“Parents are at a dinner party, same one as yours. My sisters are all on dates, except for Mary Ann. She’s upstairs sick. Rummy’s working.”

I plopped the crate down next to the door and asked the obvious question. “And Paul?”

Perry motioned for me to follow him into the back family room. The smile remained fixed on his face as he pointed to Paul’s tuba case in the corner of the room.

“So!” Perry shouted. “Learned your lesson yet?”

A muffled “Yes” came from inside the case.

“And what are you never going to do again under penalty of a severe butt kicking?”

The same defeated voice spoke. “I’m never going to borrow your bathing suit or any other clothes without asking.”

Perry looked at me. The smile grew wider. “Don’t forget it! Chris is here now, so I guess you would like to be let out, huh?”

Sarcasm oozed through the cracks in the case. “Yeeees.”

Perry thumped the side of it with his foot. “Yes, what?”

Paul responded several seconds later. “Yes…please.”

“There, now see? All you have to do is be polite and show a little respect. That’s all I ask for, not much.”

Perry flipped open the clasps to the case with his foot.

When the final one was unhinged, the lid flew wide. Flush-faced and wild-eyed, Paul looked at his brother and shouted, “I couldn’t breathe in there, you jerk! I could have died!”

“You look fine to me. Besides, serves you right. You should know better than to take my stuff. You’re lucky I didn’t kick your ass in front of Chris.”

“Yeah, I feel real lucky. Now why don’t you split? Go find someone else to bother.”

“Fine. But remember Mom and Dad left me in charge. That means don’t do anything stupid. Also, I’m coming down to watch Saturday Night Live later, so the TV is mine for that. You have until eleven-thirty to watch whatever you want.”

Combat was the first in our lineup of Atari games, followed by Indy 500 and then Star Ship. Somewhere between racing and shooting down spaceships, Perry showed up with a large bowl of popcorn. Saying nothing, he dropped it between us as an apparent peace offering and worked his way into the fun. After three and a half hours of nonstop gaming, Perry exclaimed, “Okay, ladies, time for SNL! He flipped the television dial to Channel 4 just in time to catch the end of the evening news.

“… and so there you have it. David Berkowitz, the infamous Son of Sam killer, will be sentenced in less than a week. In local news a gruesome discovery was made earlier today on the White Marsh Nature Trail in Bowie, Maryland. The mutilated bodies of two dogs were found by Boy Scout Troop 1046. The scouts that stumbled upon the animals described them as ripped to shreds and decapitated. The savagery of the attack has authorities perplexed as the wounds are consistent with those caused by a large predator such as a bear. However, no bears have been sighted in Prince George’s County in years. Furthermore, such violent behavior is not typically associated with the black bear, which is the only species of bear indigenous to the state. Authorities are urging anyone with information regarding this attack to call the number on the screen.”

I glanced over at Paul. His slack-jawed stare was a suitable reward for the teasing I’d endured on the way to the pool.

Swimming in self-satisfaction, I nodded and mouthed the words, Told you.

“Goatman.”

Paul and I turned to Perry. He was staring at the screen with a blank expression. “Definitely the Goatman.”

“What’s a Goatman?” I asked.

Perry’s eyebrows rose and his head dipped slightly as it swiveled to me and then Paul. “You guys are joshing me, right? You’re telling me you’ve never heard of the Goatman? Either of you?”

Embarrassed, I backtracked. “Well, sure I’ve heard of him but not a whole lot. Just rumors really. What do you know about him?”

“Uh-huh.” Perry didn’t sound convinced. “Anyway, this is clearly the work of the Goatman. He’s been killing dogs for years now. I remember hearing stories about him when I was younger than you dorks—and it’s not just animals he’s after. A couple of years ago, they found two bodies out by Allen’s Pond, a girl and guy. They were all chopped up into tiny bits by some maniac with an ax. They never solved the case, but everyone says it was the Goatman that got them.”

Something about what Perry said wasn’t adding up. Although I was all for a good boogeyman story, it needed to be well-constructed for me to invest in it. “Wait a minute. If this is the same guy, then –”

“Goatman,” Perry interrupted.

“Right. If this is the Goatman in both cases, why would he be ripping up dogs one day and chopping up kids with an ax on another? It seems weird. If he had the strength to kill two dogs with his bare hands, why would he bother with an ax?”

Perry glared at me like I had a hole bored straight through my head. “Dude, he’s a Goatman. That’s weird. The fact that he kills dogs and people with his hands or an ax isn’t that strange.”

“So,” Paul chimed in, “where did he come from?”

“No one knows for sure,” Perry said. “But rumor has it he was a scientist working on some secret genetics testing, and something went wrong.”

Yet another sign of poor craftsmanship. I couldn’t help myself. “Hmm.”

Perry scowled at me. “Hmm, what?”

“Well, what kind of genetics testing would you use a goat for? If they were looking to make some kind of human animal weapon, why not use a gorilla or a tiger, or something like that?”

“Or maybe a snake or lizard.” Paul added.

“Exactly,” I said. “All of those are cool. A goat is just…goofy.”

“What, are you two scientists all of a sudden? I’m just telling you what I heard. Besides, it doesn’t matter. He’s out there, and he’s been hunting down people and dogs for a long, long time. Ax or no ax, the Goatman is real, and he’s on the hunt.”

His words brought with them the memory of my narrow escape on the bike trail and the warnings uttered by the hidden things. He’s watching you. My silence must have encouraged Perry.

“Come to think of it, you two chumps would make for a pretty good Goatman snack. If I were you guys, I’d stick close to home this summer, probably not mess around much after dark. Otherwise,” Perry leaned back in his chair, slowly tilting his head from side to side, “well, you never know.”

Luckily for us, the voice of Paul Shaffer drew Perry’s attention to the television and away from his taunts. After watching SNL, Paul and I crashed out in sleeping bags in the family room, and Perry headed upstairs.

As we drifted off to sleep, I whispered to Paul, “See, I wasn’t imagining things on the bike trail.”

“I know. Sorry about that.”

Silence fell upon the dark room and lingered for a minute until Paul said, “What now?”

Whatever wickedness was stirring up had all started at White Marsh. Yes, it was more of a gut feeling than a brain feeling, but it was still a powerful feeling. “I kind of want to go back there.”

“What? You mean to the place you were almost killed? You crazy?”

“I won’t go alone, and I won’t go so close to nightfall. You’ll be with me and maybe a few others. I don’t think whatever is there will attack a group of people. Too many witnesses.”

“How can you be sure it won’t kill us all?”

“I think it’s trying not to attract too much attention. That’s why it hid from me at first. It didn’t make a move until it knew I was alone. Like I said, no witnesses.”

More silence.

Paul yawned. “Well if you want me to come, you’re going to have to wait.”

“Why?”

“Thought I told you. Tomorrow we’re heading to Ocean City. Won’t be back until Friday.”

“Dude! I need you there with me. You’re the only person that knows about this.”

“Then I guess you have stay cool for a week.”

“What the heck am I supposed to do while you’re gone?”

“Don’t know… maybe you can try and convince Steve to come with us.”

“Please?” I begged. “Steve has zero interest in anything I have to say. Now that he’s gonna be a senior, he wouldn’t be caught dead hanging out with his fifteen-year-old brother. Not that we were hanging out much anyways.”

“Yeah, same with me and Perry. Guess they think they’re big shots ’cause they can drive and go to parties that have beer and stuff. Anyway, don’t do anything stupid while I’m away,” Paul said.

“Nah, I’ll wait till you get back.”

I thought about telling Paul about the walk over to his house, but the details were already getting fuzzy. The sad truth of it was, I wasn’t entirely sure what happened myself. Being a little nuts could be frustrating at times—especially when monsters were after you.