Closet Treats

by Paul E. Cooley

  "I want Daddy back, too," she whispered.

  Once she had calmed Alan, and herself, they left for the hospital. They found Trey in the ER, already in a bed with a blood bag hanging from a metal stand. One of the cops from the house stood by the bed. "Are you prepared to make a statement?"

  She pulled a chair up to Trey's bed, and placed Alan in it.

  Trey's eyes fluttered. "Alan?" he asked in a whisper.

  "Daddy," the boy replied.

  Trey smiled and then closed his eyes again.

  Carolyn fought hard to keep her voice steady and forced a smile. "Alan?" He turned to her in the chair, his face sad, but calm. "Can you watch over Daddy for a minute?"

  He smiled back at her. "Yes, Mommy."

  She nodded to him and looked at the cop. "Can we talk outside?"

  The cop smiled at the boy and then looked back at her. "Sure, Ma'am."

  The two of them walked out into the hallway. A stretcher passed by them and the noise in the ER increased. The cop led her to a small out of the way corner.

  "What do you need to know?" she asked as he pulled out a battered notepad.

  "Ma'am? Your husband called 9-1-1." She nodded to him. "Do you know why?"

  "I-- I passed out?" she asked.

  The cop tapped a pen on the notepad. "You don't know?" She blinked at him and then shook her head. The sad smile on his face faded into a thin line. "Your husband said someone hit you."

  Carolyn opened her mouth and then closed it. The officer stared at her, his pen still tapping against the notepad. "Did Trey say who?" The officer said nothing. What does he want me to say? she wondered. "Officer..."

  "Hutchins," the humorless cop said.

  "Officer Hutchins?" Carolyn asked. "Did Trey say who hit me?"

  Hutchins said nothing.

  With an exasperated sigh, Carolyn put her arms across her chest. "Okay. I get it," she whispered. "You think I've got battered woman syndrome or some shit like that."

  "Did your husband strike you, Ma'am?"

  She blinked at him again. "Whoever hit me was not my husband." She punctuated the last three words.

  "Then who hit you?" Hutchins' eyes glittered.

  Carolyn leaned forward. "I. Don't. Know."

  The officer nodded. "You're not going to tell me the truth, are you?"

  She smiled at him. "I already did, sir."

  He nodded again. "Your husband," he said with another sigh, "called 9-1-1 and reported that you'd been attacked. He said the attacker was still in the house, and that we needed to help you." He paused. "I find that kind of interesting," Hutchins said. "Not that we needed to help him, but help you."

  She shivered. "I don't see what's so important about that." Her voice trembled with each syllable.

  He smiled at her. "Of course you don't. Do you know how your husband hurt his hand?"

  Trey, screaming at the top of his lungs, fist battering into the table's broken glass and metal frame. His face filled with panic, fear and rage, his hand throwing up great loops of blood with each punishing blow.

  "He accidentally put his hand through some glass."

  "Accidentally," Hutchins said to himself and scrawled into his notepad. "That's very interesting, Ma'am. He told us he broke it," Hutchins said, flipping the notepad back a page, "while he was defending the boy from the attacker." Carolyn opened her mouth and then closed it again. Hutchins nodded. "Now," he said, placing the notepad in his front pocket, "you want to tell me what really happened, Ma'am? Because I'm getting a little frustrated with the run-around."

  Carolyn dropped her eyes. "My husband is ill," she said softly. "He--" She swallowed hard. "He has a mental disorder and sometimes he sees things that aren't there."

  Brows furrowed, Hutchins narrowed his eyes. "He hallucinates?" Hutchins whispered. She nodded. "Then he was--"

  "Protecting us," she said softly.

  "From what?" Hutchins asked.

  "I don't know," Carolyn said, wiping a tear from her eye. "Look, I don't want to press charges--"

  "Lady?" Hutchins said, hands on his hips, "that's your business. And maybe it's none of mine, but you should keep yourself and that kid as far away from that guy as possible."

  A flush of anger filled her, her vision tinged with crimson. "It. Is. None. Of. Your. Business."

  Hutchins took a step back, raising his hands. "Ma'am, you don't--"

  "Fuck you," she growled. "That's the father of my son, and he is my husband. And don't you dare fucking judge me or my family."

  "Okay, I--"

  "So you write down whatever the fuck you want," she whispered. "But I won't press charges." She glared at him, breathing through her nostrils. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to see my husband." She walked past Hutchins, her heels clicking on the tile floor.

  "Ma'am?" he called to her.

  Carolyn didn't turn around, and said nothing as she re-entered the room. Alan was sleeping in the chair, his tiny hand clasped in Trey's. She smiled at them.

  "Carolyn?" Trey asked in a whisper.

  She leaned down and brushed her hand against his cheek. "Yes, honey?"

  "Love you," he whispered. He closed his eyes and started snoring again.

  She reached for his side of the bed, knowing he wasn't there. That first episode was ten times more frightening than this latest one. He'd gone away for several weeks, and she'd barely been able to bring herself to see him.

  The bruise on her cheek had faded with time, just as the pain in her nose.

  Trey. Protecting them from something that wasn't there. Four years ago. Four years without any major incident. She held back a sob.

  "I miss you," she murmured.

  Carolyn fell asleep, remembering the frenzied expression on his face, the blood flying from his hands as he protected them from a monster only he could see.

  Chapter 24

  "Alan."

  His eyes snapped open and he stared into the darkness.

  The rain had stopped pattering against the sides of the house, leaving only the sound of the heater.

  "Alan," a voice whispered from the side of the bed.

  Alan shivered beneath the warm blankets. He knew if he looked toward the voice, he'd see nothing.

  "Alan," the voice whispered again.

  He scrunched his eyes together and listened to the mad drumbeat of his heart in his ears.

  "There is no Closet Man," the voice chuckled in the darkness. "But there is an Ice Cream Man."

  His eyes flew open and he turned his head to the left side of the bed. Two gleaming yellows globes glowed in the darkness.

  Alan threw the covers off the bed and flung himself toward the nightstand. Unable to breathe, he snapped on the lamp. The darkness was obliterated in an instant, leaving him staring at an empty room.

  "I'm under the bed," the thing whispered.

  "No, you're not," Alan whispered back, his words broken by rapid breaths. "You're not here," he said. Fighting back the urge to run screaming from the room, he dropped to all fours, his eyes scanning beneath the bed. Nothing was there. "You're not real," Alan said and stood. Shivering from fear, Alan rolled up the blankets and dragged them toward the door. "You're not real," he whispered to the room, closing the door behind him.

  Chapter 25

  It was still dark in her bedroom when she opened her eyes. Her alarm hadn't gone off yet. Her hand reached for Trey but found only sheets and his pillow. "Not this morning," she said to herself and managed to choke back the sob.

  Morning. Time to get up. Time to get Alan some breakfast and get him to school. Then she'd have to call about Trey.

  She threw back the covers and stared at the ceiling. Cold air tingled across her bare legs and chest. She shivered. Hot shower. Yes, a hot shower was exactly the thing. Carolyn put her feet on the floor, slid out of bed, and started for the bathroom. A shape on the floor stopped her from putting her foot down.

  Carolyn froze, unable to exhale. Covers? Blankets? The bundle twitched and rolled. Carolyn
held back a scream. She stepped over the cloth-covered blob and into the bathroom. She flipped on the lights and turned, ready to face whatever it was.

  A small hand rested on the floor, stretched outward from a Spiderman blanket. Carolyn finally managed to exhale, her heart beating so fast she thought it would explode. She moved toward Alan, and then realized she was naked. Feeling embarrassed, she grabbed her robe from beside the bed and cinched it around herself.

  She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. Why the hell had that scared her? Just a bundle of blankets, dammit, with her sleeping son beneath it all.

  Once she felt her heart rate had slowed to an acceptable rhythm, she knelt down beside Alan. She peeled back the blanket and stared into his sleeping face. He didn't look peaceful. Instead, his teeth were locked tight, his eyes scrunched together.

  "Alan?" she whispered.

  The boy didn't move.

  Knowing it was going to hurt, she slipped her arms beneath him and lifted. She grunted with the effort and ignored the pain in her lower back as she placed him on the bed.

  "Alan?" she asked again.

  The boy said nothing. With a sigh, she straightened him on the bed, practically dragging his head toward Trey's pillow. She covered him in blankets and turned back to the bathroom.

  "Want Daddy to protect me from the ice cream man," Alan mumbled from behind her.

  She spun on her heel and stared at the bed. Alan rolled over onto his side, his breathing deep and level. Her heart rate had risen again, hammering in her chest.

  "Alan?" she asked.

  He didn't respond.

  She closed the bathroom door with care, ensuring it wouldn't bang and wake him up. He had at least another hour of sleep before she needed to push him out of bed.

  The ice cream man.

  "Fuck," she whispered.

  Was Alan already starting to see the same things Trey did? Was he going to end up in an institution talking to people who weren't there?

  She shivered. "Just sleep talk," she whispered to herself.

  She pulled off the robe and stepped into the shower, trying to take deep, even breaths.

  Chapter 26

  She'd awakened Alan from her bed by stroking his cheek and saying his name. The boy's eyes fluttered open and he stared into her face, a look of surprise that transformed into a thin smile.

  "Good morning, Mommy," he said.

  "Good morning, baby." Her hand still brushed his cheek. "Do you know where you are?"

  "In your room," he blushed.

  "Yes, you are," she giggled. "Do you remember why?"

  Alan yawned and put his small hands over his face. "No," he said through his fingers, the word muddled and muffled.

  She nodded and squeezed his shoulder. "It's time for you to get dressed and ready for school."

  He dropped his hands from his face. "Okay, Mommy." Carolyn stood up from the bed to leave just as his hand reached and grabbed the hem of her robe. "Mommy?" he asked.

  She turned back to him with a sigh. "Yes, Alan?"

  "Will Daddy come back to keep us safe?"

  Her brow furrowed. "Keep us safe. From what?"

  Alan frowned. "I don't know."

  "Get dressed, kiddo. Have to get some breakfast in you."

  Alan smiled and slid off the bed.

  She watched him leave the room and then closed the bedroom door. As she turned from the door, the smile faded. "Will Daddy keep us safe?" Alan had asked. She shivered.

  While she dressed, she thought of all the things she had to do. First, call work and tell them she wouldn't be in. Second, get Alan to school. Third...

  It was the third one that worried her. She had to call Kinkaid, find out Trey's condition, and whether or not she could see him. But even if Kinkaid said no, she was going to be there, dammit.

  Not like last time.

  Carolyn picked out a clean pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. No makeup. Well, maybe a little. She slipped on the jeans, a practical bra, and then the sweatshirt.

  With a sigh, she stared at herself in the mirror. A worry line was forming and her eyes had dark circles. Four hours of sleep. Fuck. She wondered how much sleep Trey had managed.

  Would he still be in the hospital bed, his skull wrapped in bandages? She took in a sharp breath and then let it out slowly. "I'll see you, Trey," she whispered. "I promise."

  Carolyn braided her long hair, tying the end with expert fingers. She stared at herself in the mirror. She looked like shit, but she knew Trey wouldn't care and on a morning like this, she didn't give a damn who saw her. She flipped off the light and headed downstairs.

  Alan was at the breakfast table, munching on cereal. She walked up behind him, and squeezed his shoulder. He turned around to her, his teeth still crunching.

  "Are you going to see Daddy today?"

  "Don't talk with your mouth full, son," she said with a smile. "Yes." She headed to the coffee maker. "I'll see him while you're at school."

  Alan clinked his spoon against the glass bowl. "Can I see him tonight?"

  She paused and then clicked the coffee maker button. "I don't know if you can see him tonight, baby."

  "But--"

  "I know, Alan." She turned toward him. "I'll ask."

  Alan nodded, his smile creeping back. "You'll tell Daddy I love him?"

  "Of course." She turned back to the coffee maker and then stopped. "Alan?"

  He looked up at her as he put another spoonful in his mouth.

  "Do you know what Daddy is supposed to protect us from?"

  He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, continued crunching, and swallowed. "The Ice Cream Man," Alan whispered.

  "Who?" she asked, her heart rate rising and thumping in her ears. "The Ice Cream Man, Mommy. Daddy doesn't like him." Alan frowned. "I don't like him either."

  She stepped away from the coffee maker and sat down at the breakfast table. She thrummed her fingers on the glass surface. "You've never met the Ice Cream Man."

  Alan shook his head. "I saw him. When we picked up Daddy yesterday." Alan frowned. "I don't like him."

  The Ice Cream Man.

  Carolyn barely remembered the guy. She had driven the car as fast as she dared through the winding main drag of the subdivision. When she reached the intersection of Pine and Crystal, the ice cream van was parked at the side of the tree-lined road.

  A few people stood around the white Econoline van. She pulled into the side street and parked the car.

  "Alan, stay here," she whispered and opened the door. She ran toward the van.

  The man in the cream colored overalls stood at least a head above everyone else. He stared down at the prone figure at his feet, his white pie hat swept forward so that it nearly covered his eyes. He looked up at her as she ran toward him.

  "Ma'am?" the man said in a high-pitched voice. "Are you the wife?"

  She knelt down before Trey without looking up at the man in the overalls. "Yes," she said. Trey lay on the concrete, eyes closed. "Trey?" she asked. His eyes fluttered. Blood trickled down his scalp from where his head had hit the ground. "Trey?"

  "He ran at me," the man said.

  Carolyn glanced upward. She had difficulty making out the man's face beneath the shadow of the pork pie hat. His long nose and pouty lips were all she could see, besides his fat jowls. His eyes were perfectly hidden.

  "He gave me quite a fright," the Ice Cream Man said in a monotone.

  She glanced back down at Trey. "How long has he been like this?"

  "About ten minutes," the man said in that same expressionless voice. "Lady? I have to go," the man said. "I'm a little out of sorts."

  She looked up at him. The man rubbed his hands together, the friction against his palms sounding like sandpaper.

  "Yes, of course," she said softly. "I'll take him to the hospital. If you can help me get him to the car?"

  "Sorry, ma'am," the man said. "Hurt my back years ago. Can't help you there." He looked into the crowd of people. "Can on
e of you help this lady?" he asked in that same flat voice.

  "Yeah," a young man said. "Here," he stepped forward to Carolyn and grabbed one of Trey's arms. "I got him," he said.

  Carolyn looked up at the goateed teenager and smiled at him as best she could. "Thank you," she said.

  They lifted Trey by his arms, bringing him to his feet. Trey's eyelids fluttered again, enough for him to hold Carolyn's stare. His legs took some of the weight as they walked to the car.

  Carolyn turned her head to thank the Ice Cream Man, but he was already in his van. The word "YUMMY" was spelled in bright, crimson letters on the back of the van. She felt a chill as it made its way up the street, a thin, broken line of blue exhaust spitting from the tailpipe.

  She stared at Alan across the breakfast table. "Did you see something, Alan?"

  Alan shrugged. "He hides his eyes," the boy said softly. "He doesn't look like somebody nice."

  With a nod, Carolyn forced a smile. "You're a smart kid." He'd smiled back at her. "Now hurry up and finish breakfast. We're going to be late."

  The drive to the hospital had been quiet and uneventful. She pulled into the parking lot and realized she couldn't remember the drive at all, only the thoughts in her head. Alan had kissed her goodbye as he left the car, making her once again promise to tell Daddy he loved him. The hospital sat before her, its lights visible in the darkness of the overcast day. The weather was finally supposed to break later that afternoon, but Carolyn could scarcely believe it.

  She pulled out her phone, unlocked it, and found Kinkaid's number. With a tap, she brought the phone to her ear. It rang twice.

  "This is Doctor Kinkaid."

  "Hi," Carolyn said, "this is Carolyn Leger, I--"

  "Carolyn," the doctor's voice answered. She could hear the smile in the woman's voice. "I suppose you're calling about Trey."

  She nodded and said "Yes, I am."

  "Trey's okay. He's been quiet this morning. His concussion isn't as

  bad as we thought. I haven't really had a chance to assess his state this morning, but the nurses say he's doing okay."

  "I'm here at the hospital," she said. "I was hoping I could see him."