Closet Treats

by Paul E. Cooley

  When the school day ended, Alan stepped out into the brisk air. The winter sky was bright, clear, and warm enough to make a jacket unnecessary. Alan walked with a measured pace as the other children flooded past him and into the schoolyard. Most were headed toward the copse of trees. He stopped for a moment, watching his classmates run with reckless abandon, backpacks slapping against their shoulders, to be first in the queue.

  The ice cream man was there, of course. The van's side door was already open. From this far away, he was just a cream colored figure, the hat slung low over his face.

  The first kids made it to the van. For a moment, nothing happened. Then there was the sound of children shouting orders, their voices a disjointed shout. Alan heard a laugh that set his teeth on edge. The ice cream man.

  Why was Daddy so afraid of the Ice Cream Man? "Why am I?" he mumbled aloud.

  In reflex, Alan looked toward the parking lot, expecting to see his father standing there with that bright smile on his face, the one he always had when he saw his son.

  No Daddy. Not today. Alan looked back toward the tight knit pines. Was it the Ice Cream Man whispering to him at night? Alan shivered. He had to know. He started walking.

  With each step, the words became more clear. "Icy Pop" "Zots" "--Sandwich!" "--Taffy!" Names of different treats shouted at the vendor who deftly kept up with each request, palming money, making change, and handing out each desired item like an automaton.

  As Alan approached, small groups of children brushed past him, opening their candy or already enjoying their treats. The crowd was thinning. Five minutes had passed and Alan wasn't sure just how many of his classmates had already been served.

  No more than ten feet away from the van, Alan peered at the Ice Cream Man. The long sleeves of his uniform covered his arms. Skin-tight gloves, the exact same color as his suit, covered his hands. The man's neck, chin, his smile, and long nose were the only features visible. Alan stared at the man. The smile was wide and inviting, yet it could have been a dog's face set in a snarl.

  The Ice Cream Man's falsetto voice brimmed with exuberance as he repeated back the orders. He reached down, his fingers gingerly sliding dollar bills from hands. "Oh, that's too much," he told one of the children, handing back an errant dollar and some change.

  Alan couldn't help but smile at the man. It was just a man after all. Just a man making a living. One who liked kids.

  "Then why am I so afraid of him?" Alan wondered.

  He watched the crowd until there were only a few kids left. The Ice Cream Man looked at him as he counted out some more change. The smile grew wider. He nodded to Alan. Confused, Alan took another step forward. The Ice Cream Man knew him?

  The last child at the counter received his treat and walked past Alan. Alan stared up at the Ice Cream Man. The man leaned over, his hands on the counter. His smile dropped a bit. "Hey, kid. You, um, Trey Legett's son?"

  A shiver ran up his spine. That falsetto voice saying his father's name jarred him. "Leger, sir" Alan corrected.

  "Ah," the man nodded, "yeah, Leger. I remember now." The man blinked at Alan and then looked around the playground as if to see if any more customers were coming. "Um, how's your Dad?"

  Alan shrugged. "Okay, I guess. He broke his arm, sir."

  The Ice Cream Man laughed. "You can call me Reggie, son." The man leaned forward, offering his hand.

  "Reggie," Alan repeated back. He grabbed the offered hand and squeezed, just as his father had taught him. "Nice to meet you, Reggie." The man's hands felt thin and bony beneath the gloves.

  "Likewise," the man said. They shook. Alan let go and the man laughed. "Quite a grip you got there, partner. Your Dad teach you that?"

  Alan nodded. "Told me it's how men greet one another."

  Reggie laughed again. It was an infectious belly laugh and Alan couldn't help but smile. He didn't want to like this man. He didn't want to. "Your Dad's right," the man said. Reggie paused, his eyes staring into Alan's. "So," Reggie's voice dropped in tone, "what can I get you?"

  Alan blushed. "Oh, I don't want anything, Reggie." Reggie's smile dimmed. "I just wanted to meet you. Thank you for helping my Dad."

  The man nodded. "You're a good kid," Reggie said, his voice dropping again, the tone now barely recognizable. Alan shivered. "Time for me to pack up." Reggie held one hand beneath the overhang as he punched a button with the other. Alan heard a click and saw the door shudder. "Nice to meet you, Alan Leger," Reggie said.

  Reggie's face was covered in shadow now, but his eyes still gleamed. "Tell your Dad," the shadow said, "I said get well soon." Even in the shadow, the man's grin was still visible.

  Alan's mouth opened as he watched the grin elongate, the corners turning up impossibly high. The overhang clicked as it slid closed.

  Alan stepped back from the curb, his skin freezing despite the warm sunlight. The van shuddered. Alan saw movement behind the driver's side window. He watched as the van pulled away leaving him alone by the curb. The van's music started as soon as it turned the corner.

  The Ice Cream Man. Alan shivered.

  Chapter 38

  The sidewalk path followed in the Ice Cream Van's wake. He had thought about taking the back way home, but as loud as the music was, he'd have heard it no matter which direction he went. Besides, the normal route would be fastest and if Jimmy Keel was waiting for him, there would be other people around to stop a fight.

  As he rounded the corner and headed down the sidewalk, he saw the van in the distance, a few kids beside it. As he approached, the side door closed back down and the truck moved on another block or two until adults or children stopped it again. The cycle repeated itself. Alan never got closer than a block away before the van began moving again.

  As the road wound and snaked, the bells became more and more distant and he completely lost sight of the van. The roiling in his stomach quieted. The Ice Cream Man hadn't really been what he expected. Until the end.

  Alan shivered. The voice had dropped. The grin had changed. The man had become... He didn't have a word for it.

  "Is that what Daddy saw?" he wondered. Alan continued putting one foot in front of the other. This part of the road was lined with pine trees snaking toward the sky, their needles bright green with the recent winter rain. As he walked, he heard the shuffling of something in the trees. Squirrels. Possum, maybe. Or perhaps a stray dog. The feeling of being watched made him walk a little faster.

  The road finally began to straighten again and around the bend, he saw the back of the Ice Cream Van. The vehicle was parked on the shoulder, hazard lights on. Alan halted. The tingling in his spine was electric. The birds chirping in the trees stopped. Alan let loose a long breath. He turned and saw only the empty road behind him.

  Alan looked both ways and then ran to the other side of the road, as far from the ice cream van as he could get. As he made it to the other side, he heard the sound of a car behind him. He looked and watched a blue sedan drive past. A dark haired teenager behind the wheel was singing to a song Alan couldn't hear. The sedan disappeared up the road and around the next bend.

  Alan let out another long breath. "Being stupid," he thought.

  Something rustled on the other side of the road. Alan turned his head. Behind the white van, something was moving through the thick pines. Alan took a step backwards and the movement stopped. He squinted, trying to make out exactly what it was. White. No, cream-colored. He took a step forwards and it matched him. Alan's heart beat rose in his chest like a thrash drum beat, loud enough to block out any other sound. Alan ran.

  He could hear it running through the brush, crunching dead leaves, snapping through dead falls, and breaking branches to keep up the pursuit. His pack smashed into his middle back again and again, flapping in time to his pounding heart. Alan was afraid to look across the road, afraid he'd see his pursuer break through the tree line and fly toward him.

  Alan was barely aware he was nearing the end of the road's dead space. A car honked as its
brakes squealed. Alan was halfway through the intersection, stumbling to a stop. He skidded on his Nike's and fell to the concrete, rolling in front of the car. He ended up facing the sky, the car's engine growling in his ears.

  "Hey, kid! You okay?" a woman's voice said from above him.

  "Yeah," Alan muttered, rolling over on his chest. He tried to lift himself from the road on lacerated and bleeding hands. Arms snaked beneath his own. A slight moan of effort from the person behind him and he was on his feet. "Thanks," Alan said.

  "Jesus, kid," the woman said as he turned around, "you need to be more careful." Alan stared up into her kind, pale face. "What the hell were you running from?"

  He turned to look back from where he'd come.

  The Ice Cream Van's music had started up again. Loud. Coming closer.

  He looked back at the woman. "Nothing," Alan said. "Just got spooked," he said.

  "Where do you live?" she asked. Alan pointed down the T. She nodded. "You want a ride?"

  The Ice Cream Van's engine downshifted as it passed the T. Through the dark, tinted window, Alan could just make out the driver's silhouette, eyes forward, head straight.

  Alan shivered. "I can walk," he said.

  "God I hate those bells," the woman said from behind him.

  Alan nodded. "So do I."

  Chapter 39

  As Trey slid into the car, Carolyn smiled at him. "Kinkaid said you're sane," she said as he closed the door. Trey turned to her, leaned in, and kissed her. "

  No, she didn't," Trey grinned. "She just told you I was ready to come home."

  Carolyn sighed. "Are you?" she asked.

  "Yeah," Trey said. He turned and looked out the windshield. "Are you ready to take me home?"

  She reached out and patted his shoulder. "Yes, Trey, I am."

  Trey turned back to her. "Let's go, baby."

  Carolyn put the car in drive and headed out from beneath the hospital awning. "Before you ask," she said as she wheeled the car through the turn, "Alan's doing fine."

  Trey nodded. "Okay. Glad to hear that." He tapped his fingers on the console "Question is, are you okay?"

  She smiled. "Will be. Missed my man," she said, placing her right hand on his knee.

  "He missed you too."

  The two drove in silence as they headed out on the freeway. Carolyn skirted through the traffic, heading for the toll road. "The Ice Cream Man came by the house."

  Trey turned to her, a frantic look in his eyes. "What?"

  She nodded. "He came by to see how you were doing."

  "Jesus, he didn't come into the house, did he?"

  "Hell no. Dick and I met him outside." The car merged onto the relatively clear toll road. Carolyn accelerated to 70 mph. She glanced at Trey. "Kind of spooked me, though."

  Trey sighed. "What did he say?"

  She shrugged. "Just... He was sorry he didn't stick around after I came to pick you up." She forced a giggle. "Said you spooked him."

  Trey said nothing. An uncomfortable, palpable silence filled the car.

  "I don't like him."

  Trey nodded. "What did he call himself?"

  "Reggie," she said in a flat tone.

  "Hmph," Trey said, but a smile appeared on his face. "Reggie. Christ."

  "Yeah."

  "Has Alan met him?" Trey asked, a quiver in his voice.

  "No," Carolyn said, glancing at him. "I don't think so. He hasn't said anything at least."

  Trey nodded. "Good." He glanced at the clock in the dash. "Alan will be out of school now."

  "He's fine."

  "I know," Trey said. He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. She glanced at him again. He was already asleep.

  Chapter 40

  The house was quiet. His heart rate had finally managed to leave the race track and settle into its slow, steady rhythm. Even the walk across the T intersection to his house had been heart palpitatingly brutal.

  The Ice Cream Man. The ice cream van. The woman in her car. Too much. Just too much.

  Alan sat on the couch, his scratched and ripped backpack on the floor beside him. His trip to the concrete had worn a hole in his sweatshirt as well as one through his jeans. Mommy was going to ask questions. Alan looked at the bandage on his arm. The wound wasn't all that bad. Just friction burn, what Daddy called road rash. Small price to pay to get away from the thing in the woods.

  Alan surveyed the darkened living room. The white blur of a figure moving through the deadfalls, breaking branches, matching him stride for stride.

  It had to be the Ice Cream Man.

  The memory of the word "YUMMY" glaring from the back of the parked truck in those bright, happy, crimson letters. Alan shuddered. Daddy had seen something when he looked at the ice cream man. Something strange. Now Alan had seen something too.

  A car rumbled outside. He cocked an ear and furrowed his brow. Mommy was home. Why was she home this early? Alan stood from the couch and walked toward the kitchen. He heard the garage door closing and smiled. The laundry room door opened. "Mommy, you're--" He froze and then smiled. "Daddy?"

  Daddy stood in the kitchen, the corners of his lips rising upwards. Alan ran to his father, hugging him around the waist. "Here, champ," Daddy whispered.

  "You're back?" His father nodded. "You're not going away again?"

  "Not if I can help it," his father said. Daddy stared down at the boy. "You okay? Did you have an accident?"

  "Fell down."

  "Hey, you're blocking the road, guys," Mommy said from behind them. Alan peeked around Daddy's waist and saw Mommy, one hand clutching her valise, the other holding a fat manilla envelope.

  "Okay, Mommy," Alan giggled.

  He let go his father's waist and walked to the breakfast table. Daddy followed him, sitting down in one of the black wooden chairs. Alan cocked his head, his own smile disappearing.

  "You okay, Daddy?"

  Daddy looked up at him from the table. His face was a little pale and his eyes were scrunched. "Arm hurts, kiddo." Daddy nodded to him and smiled. "But I'm glad to be home." He pointed his index finger at Alan's arm. "Must have been a bad fall."

  Alan bit his lower lip.

  "Want to talk about it?"

  "I'm going upstairs to change clothes," Mommy called as she made

  her way into the living room.

  Daddy's eyes continued staring into Alan's. "Can you talk about it, Alan?"

  Alan sat down in the chair opposite his father. "I don't know what happened."

  "Okay, can you tell me what you think happened?"

  The Ice Cream Man chased me, Daddy. It was what he wanted to say, but-- "I got spooked and I ran," Alan said, "and I fell."

  Leaning forward, Daddy's good hand reached across the table and grasped Alan's. "What scared you, son?"

  Alan said nothing.

  Daddy face was gentle and reassuring. "We have to make a deal, boy." Daddy cleared his throat, his eyes dropping back down to the table. "You know about the Closet Man."

  "Yes, Daddy," Alan whispered.

  "The Closet Man's not real, Alan. Never was." He raised his eyes back to Alan's. "You know that, right?"

  Alan nodded.

  "But I saw him anyway. It's something the mind does. It scares me, but it can't hurt me, right?" Alan opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it. "Hey," Daddy said, "we have to make a deal, kiddo. You tell me everything, and I tell you everything."

  "No matter how crazy it sounds?" Alan asked.

  "No matter how crazy it sounds. I," Daddy laughed, "am the master of crazy." He stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes.

  Alan smiled in spite of himself. His father leaned back in his chair, his lips a flat, expressionless line. "Okay, Daddy." Alan took a deep breath. "I met the Ice Cream Man."

  Daddy's brows furrowed. "You met him?"

  "Yes," Alan whispered.

  Daddy leaned forward a little, placing his good hand on the table. "What happened?"

  Alan shrugged. "I don't like h
im, Daddy. Something's wrong about him." Daddy said nothing. "He--" Alan swallowed hard. "He changed somehow."

  "What do you mean?" Daddy asked.

  "His face, his voice. He stopped looking...friendly."

  "What did you see?" Daddy asked, his face growing stern.

  "I don't know," Alan said. He tried to find the words, but they wouldn't come. The face growing longer, the nose jutting forward, and the teeth. The teeth. "He just changed."

  Daddy leaned all the way forward in his chair, his face filled with excitement. "What about the eyes?" he asked in a rush of air.

  "What are you guys talking about?" Mommy asked from the kitchen entrance.

  "Nothing much," Daddy said without breaking Alan's stare. "Nothing we can't finish talking about later. Right, kiddo?" He nodded at Alan. Alan nodded back to him. Daddy grabbed Alan's hand and squeezed.

  "Yeah, Mommy," Alan said to his mother.

  "Okay," Mommy said.

  "I'm going for a smoke," Daddy said. He stood up from the table, slid open the glass door and walked out into the sunroom.

  Alan watched him go. He felt better, but something in the way his father had reacted when he told him about the Ice Cream Man brought goose pimples to his skin.

  Chapter 41

  The sun had dropped very low in the sky, threatening to disappear altogether. Trey stared up at the thin, herring-bone cirrus clouds, one hand on the wooden deck rail. The backyard was where he loved to come when he needed to think. The massive deck. The inviting furniture shaded by large oak and gum tree branches. But not this time of year. The leaves had long been shed and it would be at least another month before the trees began sprouting new ones.

  "Trey?" Carolyn's voice called from the backdoor.

  "Yes?" he said without turning around.

  "Alan and I are going to get us something for dinner. You want to come?"

  Trey thought for a moment and finally turned to her. "No," he said. "I'm going to enjoy the last of the sun. You know where you guys are going?"

  She rolled her eyes. "Hell no. We'll figure it out at the last second like we always do."