The Fear Zone

by K. R. Alexander

Mom and Freddy have already returned from trick-or-treating, and we got to laugh our butts off watching a very hyper four-year-old run around in a T. rex onesie while Mom chased him down, saying he needed to change for bed. It was Andres who managed to corral Freddy into his bedroom by pretending to be a velociraptor, and even then, Freddy only agreed to go to bed when Mom said he could sleep in his costume.

  Credits are rolling for the third cheesy horror movie we watched and a plastic cauldron of half-eaten candy sits between us. It’s Friday night, and Mom has already said Andres can sleep here. Honestly, he sleeps over here most weekends anyway, often passing out on the bottom futon of Freddy’s bunk bed.

  I glance over at Andres. His fangs are out and the fake blood is smeared all over his chin and the eyeliner we gave him is smudged so he looks sort of like a goth rock star. Well, except for the drool dribbling down his lip. I snicker.

  “Hwa?” he asks, pushing himself up straight as he tries to wake up. “I wasn’t sleeping.”

  “Right, right,” I say. “Who was the killer, then?”

  “A pumpkin,” he replies drowsily. His eyes are already shut and he’s sinking back into the sofa. I doubt he’ll even make it up to Freddy’s room at this rate.

  Sugar crashes are real.

  He easily ate a whole bag of candy. Good thing he runs track, or else he’d get …

  I force myself not to go down that train of thought. It’s Halloween. I’m not going to let anything ruin my favorite holiday. Especially not my cruel inner thoughts. As Andres always tells me—Caroline is enough of a bully on her own. She doesn’t need me to help her make my life miserable.

  “Come on,” I say. I toss a piece of candy at him. “It’s bedtime.”

  “Not tired,” he mumbles. He doesn’t budge.

  I start laughing.

  “Dude, you’re already asleep.”

  I don’t know if it’s my laughter or the next five pieces of candy I toss at him, but he finally wakes up with a huge yawn.

  “You’re wasting candy,” he says.

  “Oh please, you’ll eat it.”

  He smiles and, in response, opens one of the candies in his lap and pops it into his mouth.

  “Uck, I don’t know how you can keep eating sugar,” I groan. “I swear I just want, like, kale for the next week.”

  “Years of training,” he replies. “And I quickly learned that the only way to hide candy from my brothers was to eat it.”

  He snatches another piece of candy as if demonstrating his point, but stops halfway through unwrapping it. His eyes are wide and locked on the TV.

  “Hey,” he says. “Is that part of the movie?”

  I glance at the TV to see what he’s talking about and nearly yelp in fear.

  The credits have ended, but rather than going back to the site’s homepage, there’s a single line of text on the screen.

  “What the heck?” I ask. Chills race down my spine and it takes all my self-control not to run over and push the TV off its stand.

  “Maybe it’s some sort of …” Andres trails off, because he clearly can’t come up with a rational explanation either.

  “Maybe that’s, like, how much longer it’s available to stream?” I ask.

  Andres jolts upright.

  “The cemetery.”

  “What?”

  “The cemetery,” he says. “The note in your locker. It said we were supposed to meet there at midnight, right? That’s in three hours.”

  After Caroline’s taunting and a few hours of bad movies and sugar, I’d forgotten all about the note I’d trashed. Now that he’s reminded me, I can’t help but feel like we’re being watched. I glance out the window and see only darkness. It doesn’t make me feel any better.

  Andres is standing now, and he actually seems excited.

  I want to sink into the sofa and under all the blankets and never come out again.

  “We aren’t going anywhere,” I say. “Definitely not to a graveyard. This is probably, just, I don’t know …”

  “Oh, come on, April. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  This is the big difference between Andres and me. He sees things as adventures. I see them as dangers.

  “Adventure?” asks my mom, stepping into the living room. “Who’s going adventuring at this hour?”

  She’s changed out of her costume—she’d gone as a paleontologist, complete with a khaki hat and notebook and everything—and into pajamas. She’s also holding a giant mug of tea.

  “It’s nothing,” I say. “Andres was just trying to talk me into another scary movie.”

  Mom glances at the television and my heart flips over itself. But the moment she looks to the TV, the words are gone. What in the world?

  “It’s already late,” Mom says. “And I’m pretty certain I heard Andres snoring earlier.”

  “I don’t snore!” he protests.

  He totally snores.

  “And besides,” he continues, “I’ve just had more candy. It’s my second wind!”

  Mom chuckles. “Well, normally I’d say you need to get to sleep, but I know it’s your favorite holiday and it’s a weekend.” She smiles. “So, one more. Then you need to get to bed.”

  Her smile turns into a yawn.

  “I’m going to go read and pass out. I’m trusting you two to go to sleep once the movie’s over, okay? Try not to scare yourselves too badly. I don’t want April having to sleep in my room again.”

  “That was only one time three years ago and it was a very scary movie about clowns!” I say. I feel the heat rush to my cheeks. Not that the story is a surprise to Andres—he was there. It was one of the first nights he’d stayed over. I’d let him convince me to watch a terrifying movie about clowns from space. I got so scared that I had to sleep in Mom’s bed. Ever since that birthday party …

  He’d laughed, but he didn’t rub it in. He also never brought it up again, which is how I knew he was going to be a good friend. After that, the only horror movies we watched were B-grade eighties flicks. No clowns. No sharks.

  Mom gives us each a hug and then heads back upstairs. We listen for her footsteps to recede, and then Andres looks at me. His face once more shines with excitement.

  “So?” he asks.

  “So?”

  “Are we going to do it?”

  I look back to the TV. The words are still gone, and it starts to make me wonder if we made it up. Some sugar-induced hallucination or something.

  “I don’t know …”

  “Pleeeeeease.”

  “The note didn’t say anything about you going,” I say. “And it didn’t sound like it was going to be a fun time. I mean, that whole or else part seemed ominous. What if you got hurt?”

  “We’ll bring a baseball bat if you’re that worried, and we have phones if there’s any real trouble. It’s fine. Besides, we don’t have to actually go into the graveyard. We can just hang out in the bushes and watch to see who’s there. It’s just going to be some kids from school pulling a stupid Halloween prank. I want to watch them try.”

  “How do you explain that, then?” I ask, pointing at the blank TV. I grab the remote and rewind it a few frames. There’s nothing on there. No creepy text. No nothing. Just the normal credits and blackness.

  Andres shrugs. “Maybe someone hacked in? I don’t know. I just know we can’t miss out on this.”

  I don’t know why Andres is so enthusiastic about going or how he can pass this off as normal. Probably because he isn’t the one getting creepy notes in his locker or messages on his TV. Or maybe it’s because—unlike me—he enjoys being scared.

  I also know that if we don’t go tonight, I’ll never hear the end of it. And I can just imagine school on Monday—all the kids talking about the party or prank or whatever that we missed out on because I was too scared.

  If Caroline’s behind it, I refuse to give her the satisfaction of me chickening out.

  “Okay,” I finally agree. “But if we’re going, we aren’t wa
tching a scary movie beforehand.”

  Andres’s smile widens.

  “Deal.”

  We leave Deshaun’s house at a quarter to midnight.

  He didn’t really have to try to convince me to skip the party. Even though I was hoping to go and meet some new people, I could tell he was bummed over not getting an invite. And I think the creepy note thing scared him more than he wanted to let on. He kept bringing it up all through the cheesy horror movies we watched, how he was wondering if this meant someone was watching or following him. I knew what he was really scared of, though: He was worried this meant he was going to be pranked, which meant he was still a nerd, just like we had been in middle school. He’d hoped that going to high school would change everything for him. Trouble was, it hadn’t.

  Which is also why neither of us is in costume. We’re both wearing black, and I have some creepy animal masks in my backpack just in case this does end up being a costume party. Gotta leave our options open.

  “Do we really have to do this?” Deshaun whispers. I’ve never heard him so scared before—why is he so freaked out about a couple high schoolers throwing a prank?

  We creep along the sidewalk outside his house. Everyone inside is asleep, and the last thing we need is for his mom to wake up and find us sneaking out.

  “Yes,” I say. “We’re in high school now. We have to face our problems head-on.”

  It’s something my dad has said more times than I want to admit.

  And by said, I mean yelled.

  I push down thoughts of him—he’s not going to ruin tonight.

  “Besides,” I continue, patting Deshaun on the shoulder, “you know this is just some seniors pranking underclassmen. I wanna see what they’re up to—I can guarantee you it’s not nearly as scary as the things we’ve dreamed up.”

  For a few years, we set up a mini haunted house in Deshaun’s basement and invited our friends over to check it out. It wasn’t exactly the scariest thing in the world, but I know it was innovative, and I know whatever the graveyard prank tonight is, it won’t be nearly as cool as what Deshaun and I created.

  Deshaun mutters something under his breath.

  “I’m just going to pretend that’s you thanking me for having your back,” I say.

  “If you had my back, we would still be in pajamas eating candy,” he replies. He shivers. “Where it’s warm.”

  I chuckle and keep walking.

  The night feels colder than normal, and a thin fog twists over the ground. We pass by darkened houses and front lawns filled with Halloween decorations. A chill creeps over me as we walk—the decorations look even more ghostly in the dead of night. Giant scarecrows tower over us ominously, sheet ghosts sway in the cold breeze, hanging from gnarled trees that look like witches’ fingers. A few pumpkins glow on porches, their candlelight flickering from jeering faces like lost souls. The light casts strange shadows over the yards, long and sharp like talons or spirits. It makes my skin crawl, but that just makes me more excited. I love being scared.

  “So. Creepy,” I whisper.

  Deshaun just shudders.

  We trek through the neighborhood and toward the cemetery at the edge of town. Thankfully, Mapleville isn’t a very big place, and the graveyard is only a few blocks away. Every step we take, I swear the air gets colder. It’s so quiet I can hear the blood pounding in my ears and every one of our quiet footsteps. Except for when the wind blows; then the world is filled with hissing. It reminds me way too much of the snakes Dad keeps in the basement.

  Just the thought makes my skin crawl. A dark basement of snakes is not what I need to be thinking about right now.

  I’d never admit it out loud, but I’m starting to wonder if this was a bad idea. If this is a party in the graveyard, why can’t we hear music when we’re only a block away?

  Deshaun stops suddenly.

  “Wait,” he whispers. “Do you hear that?”

  I strain my ears, but I don’t hear anything. Until …

  “Footsteps!” I hiss. We crouch and glance around. Streetlamps illuminate the sidewalk, and there isn’t really anywhere good to hide unless we run into someone’s yard, and they might have dogs and—

  “Who’s there?” someone calls softly.

  “April?” Deshaun replies.

  Shadows turn into people, and sure enough, the girl and her friend we saw earlier step out into the street.

  “Deshaun? What are you doing here?” April asks. “Did you get a note too?”

  Deshaun swallows hard. “Yeah,” he says. “You?”

  Both April and her friend nod. He’s cute and familiar, but I don’t know his name.

  “I’m Kyle,” I say, holding out my hand.

  “Andres,” the guy replies. His handshake is firm, and he smiles as he takes my hand. “This is my friend April,” he says.

  I take her hand and shake it too.

  “So you each got a note?” I ask.

  “Just me,” April says.

  “Actually,” Andres interrupts with a gulp, “I got one too.” He glances at April, who looks shocked by his admission. “Sorry. Didn’t want to freak you out.”

  “Consider me freaked,” April says. She turns back to us. “Did both of you get the note?” she asks.

  I shake my head no. “Just along for the ride.”

  “He forced me to go,” Deshaun says glumly.

  “Andres did too.”

  “Come on,” I reply. “We’re already out here. Might as well see it through, right?”

  We all look toward the end of the road, to where the graveyard waits. A cold wind slithers around us, rustling leaves and making the hanging ghosts in nearby yards come alive.

  “That doesn’t seem ominous at all,” April mumbles.

  “Come on,” I repeat. “There’s four of us. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “I wish you hadn’t said that,” Deshaun says.

  We walk.

  I don’t know what I expect when we creep up to the graveyard. A party? A bunch of skeletons or demons roaming around? Instead, the field of tombstones is empty. A heavy moon hangs in the sky, clouds thick and glowing silver, just enough to cast light over the rows and rows of squat stone and stunted trees. Maybe there are kids hiding somewhere amid the tombstones. Maybe no one is here at all, and this was just a prank to get us out of our houses, to see who is the most gullible.

  I’d thought this was all a prank from Caroline, but the fact that Deshaun and his friend Kyle are here makes me think this is bigger than her. Unless she has some vendetta against them that I don’t know about. I can’t imagine why, though. Deshaun and I were in band together last year, and he always seemed nice enough. He was really good at trumpet too. Nothing that would put a target on his back.

  The four of us trek silently into the graveyard, our phones out as flashlights. Andres hadn’t lied—he brought a baseball bat, and he holds it at his side now, just barely dragging it on the grass. Even that small sound seems louder than thunder out here. I swear that none of us even breathe.

  We walk past the iron gate that’s always open, up a low hill covered in mounds and stones, past twisted trees. The air is so cold I’m shivering, and the constant wind doesn’t help. Every gust rustles the leaves, makes tree limbs scratch against each other. I’m suddenly reminded of the zombie flick we watched before coming here. The screen had looked exactly like this …

  The sound of laughter makes me stop dead in my tracks.

  I look around at the shadows surrounding us, the tombstones hiding sneering skulls and monsters. It wasn’t a little girl’s laughter. No, it was male. It sounded like …

  “Did you hear that?” I ask, straining my ears.

  “Hear what?” Deshaun asks.

  “That laughter.” I swallow loudly. “It sounded like a clown.”

  The moment I say it, more chills shudder across my skin. That high-pitched, diabolical laugh seemed to come from everywhere at once, and suddenly I am back at my birthday par
ty, back in front of the crowd of kids, back beside the clown while he laughs and points, along with everyone I thought was my friend. I immediately push the memory away and force down the tears that are starting to rise.

  Hearing the laughter is one thing, but admitting out loud that I heard it is another. It makes the sound real. It makes me think that there is a clown out there, waiting for me to turn my back, waiting to jump out and scream and torment me.

  I don’t want to move another step. At least, I don’t want to move another step if it isn’t back toward the safety and warmth of my home.

  Andres seems to notice. He squeezes my hand and inches in a little closer.

  “I want to go,” I say, barely above a whisper.

  Andres doesn’t say anything. Just squeezes my hand again and looks at the boys who’ve joined us. I know they won’t listen to me, but maybe Andres will.

  “Maybe she’s right,” Andres says.

  “About the laughter?” Kyle asks. “I didn’t hear anything. Did you?”

  Both Deshaun and Andres shake their heads, but Deshaun looks uncertain about it.

  “I meant maybe she’s right—we should go,” Andres continues. He looks at Kyle as he says it, as it’s clear Kyle is the only one who actually wants to be out here. “I mean, look—there isn’t anyone out. No party, no upperclassmen. We’re just alone in an empty graveyard at midnight and it’s cold and who knows what sort of creepers might be out here. This was just a prank, and not a very good one. I say we call it a night and go. Before the cops come or our parents realize we’re gone. I don’t want to be grounded.”

  It’s nice of him to mention that, since his own parents think he’s at my house, and wouldn’t ground him even if they knew. He’s saying all of this for my sake. And it seems to be working.

  “Maybe you’re right,” Deshaun says. “Come on, Kyle. There’s nothing out here and I’m getting cold. I’d rather be at that stupid party than out here.”

  Kyle seems to be ready to admit defeat as well. Then something catches his eye.

  “Look!” he says, pointing. “Over there!”

  On the next small hill is a flickering golden light, like a candle in the dark.