At The Edge of Night - 28 book horror box set - also contains a link to an additional FREE book

by Bray, Michael

  Richard put a hand on his brother’s shoulder and stepped into the room. Kendon went the other way, back into the front office to call the police.

  "I told you to let it go, Mr. Brixton," Richard said, calm despite the destruction.

  “I thought I might be able to do what you did. I remember you saying you had to look deep. I tried and nothing happened.”

  Richard showed Brixton his gloved hands. “Like I told you, these are sometimes a curse. Not all gifts are ones which are wanted, Mr. Brixton. Sometimes they can cause more damage.”

  Brixton took a swig from his bottle, then glared at Richard. “You should have just told me. None of this would have happened if you had just confirmed what I already knew. She’d been acting odd for weeks. I needed this for closure.”

  “Your wife wasn't being unfaithful to you, Mr. Brixton. She told me that willingly. She had never done anything to go against the vows of your marriage.”

  “Lies. Everyone lies.”

  “The dead cannot lie, not to me at least. I see through it. Everything I see is the truth.”

  “You didn’t know her. She was up to something, I know it. It’s like an itch, one that won’t go away no matter how much you scratch it. Don’t you stand there and tell me she wasn’t lying. You have no right to protect her. Look at what you made me do.” He began to weep and took another drink.

  Richard looked around the room and the parts of Helen which were scattered within it. He turned back to Brixton. “Your wife wasn’t being unfaithful to you, Mr. Brixton. She was acting strangely because she was pregnant and wasn’t sure how to tell you.”

  Brixton couldn’t breathe. He blinked and stared at Richard. “What did you just say?”

  “She was carrying your child. That was why she suggested the holiday. She was going to tell you here.”

  “But I didn’t know. If I’d known sooner, I’d have been different.”

  Voices filtered through from the front of the mortuary. Peters with his voice loud and booming as he came closer.

  Richard crouched by the chair and laid a gloved hand on top of Brixton’s bloody one. “You see now when I tell you that some secrets are better left with the dead? There are some things that knowledge makes worse. I wish you had listened to me, Mr. Brixton. I truly do.”

  Richard stood and let Peters and his men into the room. Brixton didn’t fight as he was handcuffed and led away. He deserved it. He glanced over his shoulder as he was taken through the curtain. He saw Richard, gloved hands clasped in front of him, Kendon at his side. Behind them, the remains of his wife ravaged and violated at his own hand. It came to him then that somewhere in the room, was also likely the tiny nugget that was his unborn child which he had discarded in his frenzy and quest for answers.

  He stepped on something that crunched underfoot, snapping his attention back to the present. He stared at the plastic star which had fallen from the Christmas tree, its glitter-covered surface now in broken pieces. He knew this time of the year would never again be one for celebration or joy. It would always be the day the man he had been had died along with his wife. Something in his mind snapped, he felt it break. It was then that he started to scream. He didn’t think he would ever be able to stop.

  SCARECROWS

  Spyder was drunk, and pushed the cherry red convertible up past seventy, cheering and whooping as he sat with one elbow hanging out of the window. His mother had died earlier that day, and Spyder’s answer had been not to spend the day with his family in their mourning, but to go out and get shit-faced. It was all a front of course, but for Spyder (or Dwayne to his family or anyone outside of his school) it was the reaction that people would have expected.

  It was a hot, sticky July day, and the Red missile which was piloted by the grieving teen tore across the blacktop, the miles of empty country roads perfect for their endeavours. They thundered past Oakwell Forest, veering at speed around the occasional traffic on the road, and through the industrial area where Dwayne’s father had worked at the lumber mill before he was laid off.

  “Hey, maybe you should slow down.”

  Spyder glanced to the passenger seat, and his friend Randy squirmed a little. Perhaps he saw a little of the hurt in Dwayne’s eyes, or maybe he was just scared. Either way, he didn’t elaborate, and by way of reply, increased his speed, pushing the car even harder.

  In the back, Kenny whooped and cheered, and almost as drunk as their driver, either didn’t acknowledge or didn’t care about the potential danger of the situation.

  “Yeah, Spyder, come on man, redline this thing!” Whooped the acne ravaged Kenny, who flicked a grin missing both of its front teeth at Randy, who was glaring at him from the front.

  “What’s with you?” Kenny asked, the venom in his voice hard to miss. Randy wasn’t afraid of Kenny, or anyone else for that matter. He was a wrestler, and one of the best in the school. Undefeated, he had the luxury of a high school life untroubled by the constant tests to see who the alpha male was. It was him, and nobody disputed it. He would never admit it, but he was, however, just a little bit afraid of Dwayne.

  He wasn’t a physical threat, Randy was sure that if things ever came to blows he could overpower him, but something in his personality, just little things like the way he would get a look in his eye that made you wonder just what the hell he was capable of. It was moments like that which caused him caution, and why he didn’t quite want to commit to taking control of this particular situation. And even as his eyes flicked from his friend — his prominent cheekbones and strong jaw framed by the moonlight as he stared at the road ahead — to the speedometer, which was close to the 90mph redline that Kenny seemed so desperate to reach, he tried to think of a way to diffuse the situation.

  Dwayne took a long drink of the beer that had been nestled on the front seat between his legs, and Randy saw that, for a few seconds, both of Dwayne’s hands were off the wheel, and the car began to drift into the opposite lane.

  “Hey, hey man, the wheel,” Randy warned, reaching out to steady the vehicle, but Dwayne didn’t take too kindly to the intrusion and pushed his friend's hands away.

  “Leave it alone, I got it.” Slurred Dwayne, as he took control of the vehicle.

  “Hey man, stop being such a pussy,” Kenny added as he drained his bottle and tossed it over his head, where it smashed some way behind the speeding car.

  “Jesus Kenny, you could have hit someone with that thing,” Randy said, glaring for the second time in quick succession at their back seat passenger. Normally it would be enough, but Kenny had been made brave by alcohol, and he sneered at Randy, and then glanced at Dwayne.

  “Hey Spyder, why the hell did we bring this guy with us?”

  “Whaddyamean?”

  “This guy, he’s dragging me down with all his warnings and rules.”

  “Randy is a decent guy, I want him here.”

  “Whatever man, I just wish he would relax.”

  Dwayne glanced at Randy, who was watching him carefully. Dwayne broke into a grin, and Randy saw it again, that little glimmer of something sinister hiding within, that every now and again, came to the surface to check the lay of the land before it went back to wherever it came from.

  They were out on the outskirts of town now, the lands here were rolling fields of green farmland, accentuated by the smell of cow shit, which lingered in the air all year round. The huge Oakwell Forest loomed ahead of them, a black ocean of treetops stretching for miles. Suddenly, and without warning, Dwayne slammed on the brakes, the car fishtailing as it struggled to stop, leaving great dark lines on the asphalt.

  “What is it, what’s going on?” Kenny mumbled as the car came to a halt and Dwayne switched off the engine. Kenny’s question was ignored. Dwayne was staring out the window, and Randy watched him carefully, wondering why he was getting that nervous feeling in his stomach that he usually got right before a big wrestling match.

  “What’s up man?” Randy asked, looking out of the window to try and see w
hat had been so important as to stop and stare. He could see nothing but the road, shrinking away into a thin vein which draped over the horizon. Without the throaty growl of the engine, there was a thick silence, broken by the monotonous sound of the crickets as they sang to each other. Randy flicked his eyes towards Kenny, and now he too looked a little more apprehensive as he sat perched in the middle of the back seat.

  “Dwayne, what is it, what’s wrong?” Randy asked again. Dwayne didn’t answer.

  They sat in silence, listening to the crickets and looking up into the sky at the stars. Without warning, Dwayne turned and looked at Randy, the small smile transforming into a grin, which Randy thought belonged to the hidden thing that lived somewhere deep inside his friend.

  “You guys ever hear of Jorell Samsonite?”

  “Who?” Kenny asked as he let out a boozy burp.

  “Jorell Samsonite,” Repeated Dwayne.

  “I have heard the name, not sure who he is, though,” Randy said, watching his friend and liking what he saw less and less by the minute.

  “He’s a farmer, lives out here on the edge of town,” Dwayne said, reverting to that wistful smile. “They say he’s a recluse, a hermit. He hasn’t left his house since his wife died back in 57’, lives off the land and all that shit.”

  “What about him?” Randy asked, unsure if it was a question he wanted to be answered. Dwayne continued.

  “Word is he’s crazy. You should see his house, all boarded up and broken, and that’s not even the best part.” Dwayne grinned, and in the dull glow of the moonlight, he looked just a little bit crazy. “He grows all his own food, he has these scarecrows. Only, he doesn’t just have one like any normal person. This guy has dozens of them.”

  “Bullshit.” Kenny said as he opened another beer and took a long drink.

  “No, it’s true. A buddy of mine drove out there and saw it for himself. He said the old guy gets really defensive, screams and shouts at anyone who goes anywhere near the house.”

  “Guy sounds like a loon,” Kenny said, then sat back in his seat and took another drink of his beer.

  “People say he talks to them,” Dwayne went on, “they say he stands out in his garden for hours and chats to the damn scarecrows like they were people.”

  “What does that have to do with us?” Kenny asked, and although he wasn’t the brightest bulb, or the sharpest tool, Randy thought that the question was the right one, and its answer would define how things were going to proceed. Dwayne licked his lips and then flashed a wide grin over his shoulder.

  “I wanna go see for myself what the old fuck is up to.”

  “It’s a waste of time,” Randy said, not sure why he was so against the idea.

  “Hell, count me in,” Kenny grunted. “better than doin’ nothing anyway.”

  Dwayne nodded and turned towards Randy.

  “What about you, man?”

  Randy wanted to say no, but peer pressure counted for a lot, and as he looked Dwayne in the eye, he could still see a little bit of that instability that made him nervous lurking there. And besides, he figured anything that would get him out of the driver’s seat for long enough to sober up, could only be a good thing.

  “Sure, whatever. Count me in too.”

  Dwayne grinned. “Alright then, let’s go.”

  He gunned the engine, and streaked away, the car struggling to find purchase with the asphalt.

  As Dwayne and Kenny cackled and laughed, Randy wondered why he was half hoping they would crash before they arrived.

  ***

  The Samsonite farm was at the end of a narrow dirt road which snaked across the outer edge of Oakwell Forest. The red convertible bucked and shook as Dwayne teased it down the road. Despite his intake of alcohol, Dwayne expertly controlled the vehicle, and just before the road curved out of sight, he pulled over and switched off the engine.

  “Why are we stopping?” Kenny asked.

  “We can’t just drive up there you idiot, he'll see us coming. We need to get out and walk now.”

  “I hate walking! Is it far?”

  Dwayne shook his head, and Randy tensed up, unsure how it was going to play out. Eventually, Dwayne broke into a grin.

  “Come on, the walk will do your fat ass the world of good.”

  “Hey, it’s not my fault.” Kenny whined.

  “It never is for you lard-asses. Come on.”

  Dwayne got out of the car, and Randy and Kenny followed.

  The heat of the day was still lingering, and the sky was a breathtaking blanket of stars. The wind nudged the trees, and the three boys stood at the front of the car, waiting until Dwayne lit his cigarette.

  “You girls ready?” He said as he took a long drag. “Then let’s go.” He added without waiting.

  They walked down the edge of the dirt path, and Randy was a little uncomfortable at the total isolation. Not a single car had passed them, and he wasn’t surprised. There was nothing out here but acres and acres of green, and although there were a few farmhouses scattered around, they were spread far from each other.

  Dwayne was in front, Randy keeping pace and Kenny was a little way behind, red faced and breathing heavily as he followed. Randy jogged ahead and pulled level with Dwayne.

  “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You sure man?”

  “I said I’m fine.”

  “I was just thinking that you might want to be with your family...”

  “Drop it Randy. I know what’s best for me.”

  Randy didn’t say anything else, and they walked in silence, broken only by Kenny’s grumbles. They had walked about a quarter of a mile, and as the road curved uphill and left, they could just make out the yellow glow from the Samsonite Farm.

  “Well, at least he’s home.” Kenny gasped as he leaned into the hill.

  “He’s always home, you dumbass, he’s a recluse remember?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “So,” Randy said, “what’s the plan when we get there?”

  “I don’t know yet, I just wanna see the scarecrows. See if it’s true about how many he has.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then nothing.”

  Randy nodded, not sure why he was still feeling so uncomfortable.

  They walked on.

  Even before they got close to the house, they could see the scarecrows. Knowing how rumours and the ever knowledgeable ‘ they’ exaggerated things, Randy expected to see a few scarecrows, ten, maybe twenty tops, but as they neared, he could see that on this occasion ‘they’ were bang on the money.

  There must have been more than a hundred of them, silhouetted in black against the moonlit sky. They were haphazardly placed and surrounded the house. Some, Randy saw, were the size of a full grown adult, others were smaller, and planted in-between their larger counterparts.

  The hovel like house sat in the centre of the strange display, a thin wisp of smoke drifting from the chimney.

  “Holy shit, would you look at that?” Kenny said as he tried to catch his breath.

  Dwayne didn’t say anything, he stood there and surveyed the landscape of scarecrows. Randy could see well enough, and it was with some dismay that he noticed that little occasional glimmer of whatever lived inside his grieving friend, was now more evident than ever.

  “What do you think the old fuck does all day in there?” Kenny whispered.

  “Who knows, the place is out here in the middle of nowhere, he could do anything he wants and get away with it,” Dwayne replied as he took a swig of the beer he had brought with him. “You don’t have much to say about it.” He added, glancing at Randy.

  Randy shrugged, trying to feign disinterest despite the gnawing horror in his guts.

  “What is there to say, it’s a bunch of scarecrows. The guy is probably senile, or well on his way.”

  “I say we go take a closer look,” Dwayne said, flashing a slick, predatory smile.

  “I don’t know,” Kenny
mumbled, and Randy could see the uncertainty in his eyes. “I mean, why bother? We have seen what we came here to see.”

  “I’m with Kenny. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  “No. you pussies can go wait by the car if you want to, I’m going to take a closer look.”

  “At what?” Randy snapped “What do you expect to see down there?”

  “Well, I don’t know until I get over there do I?”

  “Look, let’s just go home. Call it a night, okay?”

  “Yeah, maybe Randy’s right, Spyder. Let’s go home.” Kenny said, eyeing the scarecrows.

  “I don’t wanna go home!” He hissed.

  Dwayne’s lip trembled and he turned away so that his friends couldn’t see it.

  “I can’t go home. Not yet.” He repeated.

  Randy thought he understood. Dwayne wanted to grieve for his mother, but perhaps he didn’t know how, or just wasn’t ready to accept it yet, and so would do whatever he could to delay having to make that decision.

  Randy looked at the house, then to Dwayne.

  “Okay.” He said. “Let’s go and take a quick look, then we get out of here. Agreed?”

  “Yeah, exactly,” Dwayne said, still not quite free of the tremble in his voice.

  “Okay, then let’s go, but keep it quiet. This guy has been here alone for a long time, and he might get easily spooked.”

  “You afraid, Randy?” Kenny sneered.

  “No, all I’m saying is we should be careful.”

  “Why?” Kenny pressed.

  “He probably has a gun.” Dwayne said, then turned and flashed his alligator smile. “And I doubt he would think too long and hard about shooting at us.”

  “Oh!” Was all Kenny could muster, and the trio were silent for a while.

  “So, how do you want to do this?” Randy asked.

  Dwayne licked his lips.

  “The scarecrows will give us cover; we just walk straight up to the house. If we see or hear anything, try to blend in.”