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The Best of Intentions
By Joshua Macmillan
EIGHT DAYS.
That was all the note tucked between the windshield and the wipers read. At first, Corey thought he had received a parking ticket. He stepped off of his front porch, heading toward his sedan. He reached into his right front pocket and pulled out his phone to check the date. He could see the snowplows had come through, clearing the freshly fallen snow they had received during the night. He let out a breath of relief when he saw that today was the seventeenth. The residence sat on the odd side of the street. The note couldn't be a ticket for parking on the wrong side of the street.
If it's not a ticket, then what is it?
He took a slow, warming drink from his cup of coffee, savoring the strong aroma and bitter taste. Placing the mug on the roof of the sedan, he scanned the streets for anything out of the ordinary. His relief faded rather quickly, making him frown a little as he took a deep drag off of his Marlboro. He plucked the sheet of paper from under the windshield wiper for a closer inspection.
Taking another drag off of his smoke, he read and re-read the words: EIGHT DAYS. It was odd, no doubt about that.
A joke? If so, it’s obviously meant for somebody else. The streets were deserted, no one in sight. Not even the rabbit who usually hung out around the bush in front of the house. He saw nothing. Corey crumpled the note and stuffed it into the front pocket of his jeans. He dropped the cigarette butt to the snow-packed asphalt, ground it out with the toe of his slipper, and drained the remaining contents from his mug. He walked slowly back to the front door of his home, stretching a bit on the way.
What a weird way to kick off a Monday morning, he thought as he stepped through the doorway.
He stepped into the second doorway on his left, his home office. Corey set the mug down on his large black desk and turned his computer on. The wall clock told him he had just under two hours before he had to leave for work. He quickly scanned through his new emails but found nothing new that would impact his day, only the usual spam and junk. He stood up and left the room, heading toward the bathroom to shower. He couldn't resist stopping to steal a peek into the third and last doorway on the left side and look in on his son. Jonothan was still sleeping, holding a stuffed animal, snoring softly. He had missed the better part of the first three years of his son's life due to his military service. Now, every chance he got he would take the time to just look at his son and silently apologize for not being there. Corey was getting ready to shut the door when he felt a hand touch his back.
“Oh God, Sam.” His heart leaped from his chest into his throat, briefly choking him with fear. His first instinct was to lash out, but something told him not to. Grateful it was her, he wrapped his arms around her and planted a kiss on her forehead, his heartbeat resuming its normal rate. He knew she hadn't meant to scare him; she forgot he was more prone to being startled since he was discharged from the Army, especially in the early morning or late evening. He was also grateful knowing he was lucky he didn’t lash out like a couple of the guys he knew.
“You scared the shit out of me.”
“I'm sorry, babe. I didn't mean to.”
Corey had a hard time readjusting when he was discharged. He couldn't sleep in the bed for more than two or three hours. Only on the couch in the living room could he sleep through the night. After a while, he was able to sleep in the bed, but he was still plagued by the occasional nightmare. He insisted the dreams were not from the military, but Samantha knew better. The two of them had been together for going on nine years. Corey enlisted after the third year of their relationship and served a four-year term on active duty. Despite this, their family had remained strong and happy. Corey had devoted himself to spending as much time with the two of them as he could.
“It's fine, babe,” he said, sliding his other arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him. “I was just checking on Jonothan.”
“I see that. He looks so peaceful, doesn’t he?” Corey nodded. “What time do you gotta leave? Do you want me to make you some breakfast?”
“I gotta be there at eight. We have some interviews starting at nine. Hopefully, it will be an early day.”
“Good! Don't forget that you promised you would build a snowman with Jonothan today,” Samantha reminded him.
They stepped together into the kitchen, where Corey poured himself another cup of coffee while Sam started pulling out some eggs and bacon from the fridge. He kissed her and headed to the bathroom to shower.
Corey worked as the site supervisor for a small security company. The company had been around for a few years, and they hired Corey almost immediately after he left the military. At first, he was hired as a patrol guard for a gated community in Brookhaven. The community contained condos, a private gym, park, and a golf course. Corey's daily job was to sit in a shack with another officer. Every hour one of them was to perform a patrol in the security car they were provided with.
Corey was good at his job and quickly moved up the ladder. It wasn't long before he was the assistant site supervisor. After he helped the owner of the company catch the current supervisor stealing from one of the condos, Corey was promoted to site supervisor. Now he could mostly work from home with the exception of having to randomly drop in on the officers on duty and also pulling one ten-hour shift on guard duty a week. These days, his job was mostly clerical. He spent most of his time working on overseeing his staff and payroll. The change was nice, but they were still trying to get used to it.
Truth be told, he’d intended to leave the job during his first year there, but the promotion came, and now he was the boss. The pay wasn't bad, and his workload was down considerably, allowing him to spend more time with his family and do the bulk of his work from home. That was what mattered most to him. Today, however, was different. In the last two weeks since his promotion, they had lost three employees. Today, he had to meet with his assistant supervisor Steve to interview new applicants and, if they worked out, give them a tour of the community.
Corey pulled his car into the parking lot of the Starbucks across the street from the main entrance of the community his company guarded. From there, he could see clearly that one of the guards was in the shack. The other must be on patrol, because the bright blue company car was not in its parking space. Corey killed the engine of his car and walked into the coffee house. He stopped just inside the door and scanned the layout of the building, a trait he picked up in the Army. He made a mental note of every corner, window, and doorway of the Starbucks. While doing this, he noticed that Steve had not arrived yet.
At the counter, he ordered his beverage—a white mocha with four extra shots of espresso—and found a spot in a far left corner of the dining area away from the group of college girls sitting on the other side of the building. He pulled his phone from his back pocket and sat in a padded seat, placing it on the small table in front of him next to his coffee. He situated himself so that he could watch for Steve. He shrugged out of his jacket, stretched his legs out in front of him, and finally took a sip of his coffee. As he savored the hot beverage, he picked up his phone. He pressed the unlock button on his iPhone and pulled up the phone app. Corey swiped through his recent calls until he found Steve's name and pressed the call icon. Steve answered after the first ring.
“Hey boss, I'm on my way,” Steve said. “I will be there within ten minutes. Nancy had issues getting Tim ready for school, so I had to step in and help out.”
“Okay, I'm in the Starbucks waiting. Do you want anything?”
“Yeah, a caramel Frappuccino if you can.”
“No problem. See you when you get here.”
Corey made it back home by quarter after five. He hung his coat on the rack next to the door and thumbed th
rough the stack of mail sitting on the table next to the coat rack. All junk. He stepped into the living room and walked toward the kitchen. He found Sam in the kitchen washing some dishes.
“Hey, babe,” he said, giving her a kiss.
“Hey, how was work?”
“It was okay. Two of the guys we interviewed might actually work out. The rest were just there to fill their unemployment quotas, I think.”
“So what does that mean for you?”
“It means I might have to pull a couple of extra shifts of guard duty until we find another suitable worker,” he said in a dry, flat tone. He reached above the fridge and pulled down a bottle of rum. “Hopefully, it won't take too long.”
“Yeah, well, what about next week?”
Corey looked at her, a confused crease in his brow. “What are you talking about?”
“Your birthday. Remember we’re going out to dinner, just us?”
“Oh yeah,” he said, pulling a mug from out of the cupboard. He poured some of the coffee Sam had brewed into the cup, topping it off with a bit of the rum. “Shouldn't be a problem. Tomorrow, we get the background checks back from the two guys, and if all works out, then they can start training. I’ll talk to Steve. The hours will be covered.”
“That's what you said last time we planned a night out,” she said, a hint of aggravation in her voice.
“That was before I got promoted,” Corey snapped back a little too harshly. He added another three fingers of the rum to the glass and took a sip, enjoying the calming warmth the liquid brought with it.
“Still.”
“I know,” he said, rubbing her shoulders softly. “Worst case, we reschedule. It's not that big of a deal, just another day.”
She playfully nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. “Yeah, well, we have been looking forward to this for a while. At least I have.”
“Of course, but I can't help it if I have to work.”
“I know. Just try to work it out so we don't have to reschedule.”
Corey gave her another kiss. “I’ll do what I can. Where is Jonothan?”
“He’s in his room watching cartoons, waiting on you. Just so you know, all he has talked about is making the snowman with you ever since I picked him up from school.”
“All right,” Corey said to her, finishing the last of his drink. “I'll take him out now.”
“I'll have supper ready by the time you get done.”
“Sounds good.”
Corey then went and collected his son, and they went out into the front yard to build the snowman. To Corey's surprise, they got it done rather quickly, even with stopping to drink the coffee and hot chocolate that Samantha brought out to them.
“Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes,” she announced, then went back inside.
Soon after, they were done with the snowman. Jonothan put the final touches on it, including the carrot nose and charcoal grin. After dinner, the three of them spent the rest of the evening watching TV until Jonothan fell asleep on the loveseat. Corey put his son to bed and followed his wife to their own bedroom, where they made love and then went to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms.
Corey woke up to a soft knocking sound coming from the front door of his home. He sat on the edge of the bed rubbing the back of his neck and rose to his feet, stumbling to the front door to see who was knocking. He looked through the peephole, but there was no one there. He opened the door and stepped outside, looked around the corner toward the stop sign perched at the end of the street, then in the other direction, but saw no one.
“Hello?” he called, looking toward the end of the street. Corey looked the other way toward the gas station a block down the road in the opposite direction. He repeated himself a few times. When he got no answer, he stepped inside and pulled on his coat, grabbed a cigarette from the pack sitting on the side table, stuffed his feet inside his work boots, and stepped back outside, lighting his cigarette.
The front steps of his home led to a straight path of sidewalk, which intersected with the main walkway. He walked this path looking for any sign of anyone that could have knocked on his door.
Who the hell knocked? I know I heard someone knocking.
He walked around to the side of his house, stopping to look at the snowman he and Jonothan had built earlier that evening. One of the charcoal eyes had fallen to the ground, and Corey picked it up and put it back in its rightful place. He continued toward the back side and stepped into his backyard via the swinging gate in the chain link fence.
He finished his cigarette as fresh snow began dancing through the air, pitched the butt, and walked back around to the front of his home. He went back inside and hung his coat.
Hell, maybe I dreamed it.
He walked into the kitchen.
It was probably just my imagination.
He wasn't due to wake up for another four hours, so he crawled back into bed next to Samantha. After a few minutes, he convinced himself he was dreaming and promptly fell asleep.
At six-thirty am, his alarm bellowed at him from the nightstand on his side of the bed. Corey was slow to get up. He had always been an extremely heavy sleeper, even if he got an uninterrupted night’s rest. Despite feeling the urge to hit the snooze and grab a few more winks, he was out of bed and drinking coffee less than half an hour later. He took his coffee to the front door and pulled another cigarette from the pack. Pulling on his coat and stuffing his feet into his boots, he stepped out onto the front porch, stifling a yawn. The sun was barely peeking out over the horizon, sending brilliant pink and orange streaks through the morning sky. The air outside was bitter. It was so cold his teeth hurt as he took in a deep breath. His second inhale promptly caught in his chest. Not from the cold this time, but for another reason.
Jonothan's snowman was now facing the house. Corey distinctly remembered that they had built him facing the street. Now the snowman was facing toward the house. The two of them had built it with one stick arm held up in the air, as if it were waving at the passing vehicles. Its black charcoal smile grinned at Corey where he stood on the front steps of his home. The snowman's arms were now held out in front of him, clutching a cardboard sign which seemed to be screaming in huge block letters painted on signet in a deep red color which had since dripped down, making it look as if it had been painted with blood. The sign read,
“SIX DAYS.”
Corey stared at the snowman. He stepped forward to examine the frozen, sneering sculpture, lighting his cigarette as he made his way to where it stood. The ground around the snowman had been trampled.
It's a joke, gotta be a joke.
He examined more of the ground until he noticed how the prints led from the snowman toward the backyard. Corey exhaled sharply and stood up. He looked around once more and then went back inside, heading directly for the hallway closet.
On the top shelf sat a small black plastic case. Corey pulled it down, setting it on the end table, spilling his collection of mail to the floor as he opened the case. The contents included a Smith and Wesson .40mm and two loaded fourteen-round magazines. He inserted a magazine, relishing the weight of the weapon gripped in his fist. He pulled back the slide, chambering a round, and scanned his living room and what he could see of the attached dining room. Satisfied, his first stop was to check in on Samantha. From where he pulled the weapon out of the main hallway closet, he only needed to take a left down the hall, and their master bedroom was on his immediate left. He flicked the hallway light on and nudged open the bedroom door. Looking inside revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Samantha was still fast asleep, and there wasn't anyone else in the room. He considered waking her but ultimately decided the best thing to do at the moment was to let her sleep.
Continuing down the hallway, Corey scanned the interior of their bathroom. Nothing. He continued to the room on his left and peered inside his office using the hallway light to determine whether the room was cleared, ending his search with Jonothan's bedroom. He was fast as
leep, no one in there with him. Corey stepped into the living room after walking through the kitchen and went toward the window, pulling the curtain back and looking out back where his work shed stood. Still nothing.
Okay, nothing inside.
He walked back through his living room to head back outside.
Corey braced himself for the cold and stepped out onto the porch. Frosty was still there staring at him, its devilish grin laughing at him as the painted words roared back at him. He walked up to the snowman, stepping into the moat created by whoever was messing around. Whoever did this had simply rearranged the location of the arms and facial features. Behind where the arms were currently planted, Corey could see holes where they had previously been.
Teenagers, this must be teenagers.
Corey trained his eyes on the impressions left in the snow. Pranks were being done everywhere these days, and Lord knew he was quite the prankster when he was in high school.
EIGHT DAYS.
The words flashed across his mind's eye as he looked from the footprints back to Frosty's sneering grin. Corey's eyes traced down the snowman to the sign he was holding, and he re-read the sign. He sucked in another cold breath and pitched a heavy sigh as he stood back up. He frowned, considering what kind of prank this was.
If it is a prank at all though, he thought as he started walking toward his backyard. Eight Days, that was two days ago. Now this?
The footprints led to his back door. He went up to the door and tested it, finding it locked. No damage could be found, nothing out of the ordinary with the exception of the footprints. Sucking in a lungful of the icy air, Corey went back around the house intent on going inside to warm up and figure out what he was going to do.
13 Night Terrors Page 19
