Mischief Night Read online

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...