Evil Stalks the Night

by Kathryn Meyer Griffith

  It was more fun when it tripped down stairs by itself, propelled by its own locomotion.

  Clump. Clump. Clump. He never tired of watching it do that. It fascinated him, the way it would go down every step dutifully until it reached its predetermined destination. So predictable, it reminded him of certain people he knew. Not his dad, though. He frowned. Never like his dad.

  He cautiously worked his way through the branches until his feet could touch the ground. They wanted him to come inside.

  Jeremy was suddenly very sad. He always felt sad when he thought about his dad these days. Worried, too. He hadn’t heard from him in weeks. No letter, call, or anything. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for his father. There were things his mom didn’t know and he’d promised not to tell her. It would only hurt her more.

  He’d accepted the fact his mother and father were divorced and they’d never live together again. It was a lousy shame, too. He’d been over at his dad’s new house a few times when the woman was there, and he knew his dad wasn’t really happy, not as happy as he told everyone he was. Jeremy was sure of it. There was something wrong and he could feel it, even if his dad was acting like there wasn’t. The woman treated him bad, not the way his mom had treated him. When Dad had been around, Mom was always smiling, where as the new woman nagged him too much. She’d never shut up the whole time he was there and she rarely smiled at him.

  Jeremy never stayed long. As much as he loved his dad, he couldn’t stand the woman and her sharp tongue. She didn’t seem to appreciate him too much, either. Her two boys hated him and were always trying to pick fights. He was glad to go home. At least, his mom loved, and needed him and there wasn’t the constant bickering he hated.

  He felt sorry for his dad. The last time he saw him, he looked beaten. His father gave him some stupid story where the reason was his second job. He was tired or something. She wanted a bigger house so he needed to make more money. She was never satisfied.

  Jeremy had noticed her new furniture and the fancy clothes and jewelry she wore. He’d heard her bragging on the phone to someone, about how much his dad bought her and about the bigger house they were going to buy. Money, all she cared about was money, and his dad was miserable trying to get it for her.

  Jeremy felt sorry for himself, too. Things weren’t the same without Dad around. Nothing was the same. As he strolled towards the house he thought about Ben. The cop guy, the man who’d helped his uncle the other day. His eyes lit up, now he would be perfect for his mom.

  Mom ought to like him. Heck, he was like his dad, wasn’t he? A cop and everything. Jeremy sure wished his mom would start liking the guy. He’d seemed real interested in her, before his mother had snubbed him and his motorcycle. Boy, he’d sure love to have a ride on that monster. It was something else.

  Thinking how he could arrange things to get them together, he took the porch steps two at a time. A shiver went through him as if someone were watching him and he spun around to look at the tree. Nothing.

  He could have sworn something was watching him. When he first turned, in the corner of his eye, he saw something. Was it a child scampering away from him? Was it? No. He shook his head and walked to the house. It’d been his imagination, as his mother always said, whatever it meant. Anyway, he had it.

  The kitchen smelled like coffee, a good smell he’d come to associate with love and home. Sometimes on cool evenings when it rained outside, or in the winter when they were snowbound, his mother and he would bake cookies or homemade bread. The remembered delicious aromas tickled his nose and made his mouth water. Those were the days, such wonderful times they’d all had in the kitchen. The coffee perking noisily while they waited for the bread to bake—he wondered if his dad remembered those times. His mother was a darn good cook and she put a lot of love into it.

  He looked at the freshly painted kitchen and the rolls of flowered wallpaper on the counter and knew his mother put a lot of love into everything she did. His mom was like that.

  Jeremy was glad he had the mom he had. Even if his dad didn’t see how special she was, he sure did. Nothing was ever going to hurt her again, if he could help it.

  He heard a car drive up and without a pause he dashed past his mother and uncle, to find out who’d come to visit.

  “Mom, it’s Ben,” he yelled, though he didn’t have to because by then she was right behind him.

  “Hi, sport,” Ben said. But there was no smile and no jokes as he looked over his head into his mom’s frightened eyes. This time he was all business. He practically ignored him.

  Jeremy felt left out. Disappointed. Apparently he was in the way or something was wrong. Ben was acting strange. Grown ups. They took most things way too seriously.

  “I need to talk with you,” Ben said to his mom. “I don’t know exactly how to put this.” He was stuttering slightly as if he was nervous or unsure of what else to say or how to say it. “I mean, what I have to say isn’t going to be easy.” Jeremy noticed his expression was troubled and he continuously shifted his eyes from his mom’s face to his Uncle Jim’s.

  Ben stared at Jeremy as if he’d realized he was still there in front of him.

  “I need to talk to you alone, Sarah.” Of course, he clearly meant without kids.

  Jeremy shuffled his feet and tossed Ben a dirty look. He glanced at his mom to see what she’d say. The time was long past when he’d be sent to his room so the grown-ups could gossip. He was way too old for that now.

  “Jeremy—” his mom started to say something but he finished it for her before she could.

  “I know. Get lost. Right?” He smirked and rolled his eyes. He knew exactly what he would do. He’d go upstairs to his room and when they’d forgotten him, he’d sneak down the steps very, very quietly and listen. By now, they were all acting a little funny and he wanted to know what was going on.

  His mother must have read his mind. “You can go outside and play,” she said, leveling a steely gaze at him.

  He knew that look. ‘No back talk’. A ‘do as I say’ look. She laid a firm hand on his shoulder and directed him down the porch steps. He could feel her shivering through her touch. Startled, he looked up at her face and it was as white as a ghost. Suddenly he was frightened and it made him shut his mouth. For once, he knew words wouldn’t do any good. His mother was upset and it was clear it had something to do with Ben.

  He nodded, his head down, and slipped out the door. “Don’t go too far away.” Her words echoed in his head as the door closed and he stood there staring at its solidness. Alone.

  He shrugged his shoulders and sat on the porch steps, his chin in his hands. What was he going to do now? He wished he was an ant. He’d crawl under the doorjamb and listen to their conversation. If he was a fly, he’d fly through a crack. He hated being left out. Or if he was a puff of smoke. His mind started concocting little fantasies on the subject, as the clouds flew over the house. The sky was a soft blue and the clouds were pinkish. There was a rosy glow everywhere and darker shadows teased the light in the yard around him.

  He found himself staring at the bushes at the edge of the yard. Something was hiding in them. He thought he saw a human smile, and then it was gone like the crazy cat in Alice in Wonderland. Bouncing up from the step, he marched to the bushes. He didn’t want to scare away whoever it was. Children needed playmates so maybe he was about to meet his first friend. He hoped it was another child, a boy he could show his car collection to. Until that second, he hadn’t been lonely, and now the thought of meeting another kid filled him with delight.

  The bushes were thick shades of the deepest green, a huge wall of leaves and branches he could barely get into. “Hey, come out, whoever you are!” His hands touched the branches and spread them apart before his body wriggled through them. “Come on!” He laughed, his eyes bright. “Don’t hide from me. I won’t snitch on you for being here. Where ar
e you?”

  He was a little perturbed now. For days he’d had the odd feeling someone was watching him, usually from a distance. What did they want? Why wouldn’t they come out and show themselves? What was wrong with them. He wasn’t impressed with their games.

  He was tired of being alone, playing alone.

  “We could be friends.” He sighed. The bushes were silent. He’d gone through them and there was no one, nothing there. Puzzled, he slid down at their fringe in the tall grass. He felt sad and angry at the same time. How could there be no one there? He’d seen someone only a minute ago. He lay back in the grass and inspected the sky, his fingers fanning over the soft grass, caressing it.

  As he lay there and closed his eyes he thought he could hear a child’s giggle, somewhere far away. Whispers haunted the air around him. Sometimes they were so loud he was sure if he opened his eyes, someone would be right there next to him. But when he finally did, the whispers and laughter skittered away into the sunlight. Gone. He was still alone. He sat up, his head dizzy. Light dazzled in sparks before him.

  “Wow, this place is weird,” he breathed, his face sharp in the shadows of the bushes. “I wonder if it’s haunted.” There was a feeling around the house that made him aware of every tiny noise. He was as jumpy as a flea on a dog’s paw.

  What could he do? His eyes skimmed the distant line of mulberry bushes that circled the side of the yard and he got up, brushing grass and dirt from his clothes. He made a beeline toward a small gap. A second later he’d pushed through the hole and out into another yard. There was no house to be seen, only grass and a stretch of weeds that seemed to go on forever.

  In the distance, he spotted a narrow brick house that was a monstrosity. Did people actually live in that thing? He ran across the field towards it. Cats of all colors and sizes scattered before him and ran to hide or crouch behind objects where they could glare back at him. He was intruding in their territory.

  One of the scrawnier cats ran out in front of him and he had to jump to avoid stepping on it. It threw him off balance and he nearly stumbled.

  The brick house appeared empty. Nothing moved, except a curtain at a side window. It fluttered a second, as if a breeze had played with it. To him it meant someone did live there, but they were hiding from him, or spying. A bunch of old ladies with white hair and watery eyes, alone and afraid, hiding from the world. Jeremy smiled and waved cheerfully at the staring windows. He wanted to run up to the front door and pound on it, demanding to see them.

  Come out, come out, wherever you are. Come out!

  He was lonely. He’d never admit it to his mother or to his uncle Jim, but he really missed all his friends from his old neighborhood. He had no one to show his cars to, no one to play with and joke with. No one to be taller or smarter than. He hadn’t seen one kid since they’d arrived. He had a BB gun his dad had given him for his birthday. Who could he show off his shooting to? He could hit a bull’s eye at twenty yards.

  Who cared?

  His Uncle Jim wasn’t a gun lover like his dad. Uncle Jim hated guns, even toy guns.

  Jeremy came to a dirt road that seemed to wind around the neighborhood like a maze. His mom said nothing had changed much around here. He dragged his tennis shoes heavily through the dust, thinking about that. It must be true, nothing looked as if it had changed in ages. He shaded his eyes from the hot sun. The trees were so tall. Big. The whole place had an unreal feeling about it, as if he’d stepped back in time. He wandered farther and farther away from his new home, knowing his mother would have a fit if she knew where he was heading.

  He whistled as he skipped along the dusty path, possibly the same dusty roads his mother and uncle had wandered down when they were his age. But he wasn’t thinking about them. In his mind he was hearing the painful echoes of past promises as he worked his way toward a place he’d only been to once. He hoped he could remember where it was.

  “I promise.” The words were a drum beating in his head as he skipped over the ground. “I promise I’ll never leave you, son. I’ll always be your dad and I’ll always love you. If you need me, I’ll be there. Always, Son.”

  Jeremy’s face was angry as the thoughts drummed along with his quickening stride. Where was his father now? Tears glittered in his eyes and he swiped them away with the back of a dirty hand and kept on running. But his feet couldn’t outrun his thoughts, no matter how hard he tried.

  He’d never cry in front of his mom like this and he was mad at himself when he behaved so childishly. His mother had accepted the divorce, why couldn’t he? He hoped she was right when she said he’d feel better when he was enrolled in school. It’d keep him busy and his mind off the past. She didn’t know he still thought about his dad so much. He couldn’t help it. He missed him. It was as if a part of him was gone. While his mother cried outwardly, he’d hid his tears. In the mornings, sometimes his pillow would be damp.

  He ambled past a group of boys playing football in a field and stopped to watch them for a while, plopping down in the dirt, his face eager and interested. None of them noticed him; none of them talked to him. He waited. He watched.

  “Hi there!” he said at one point to one of the boys when the ball was tossed accidentally near his foot and he picked it up and threw it back. The other boy merely nodded and kept playing with his friends as if Jeremy weren’t there.

  They went on with their game oblivious of the lonely newcomer. He was an outsider and that was the way he’d remain. Dejected, he accepted defeat, got up and trudged away, peering over his shoulder every once and awhile to see if they’d missed him. Call him back to play. But they didn’t.

  “So what,” he muttered under his breath. “They’re all bigger anyway. They don’t want a runt kid messing up their game.” They didn’t want him around. He didn’t belong. Didn’t fit in. To dwell on it too much might reveal a truth he’d like knowing even less. Even back home he hadn’t had many friends. He suspected it had something to do with his mom. The same reason his dad had to leave. Mom was different, too.

  He wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard laughter behind him, mingled with the noises of the game. Let them laugh at him. Who cared? He didn’t need them. Didn’t need anyone.

  He picked up a stick and dragged it, making tracks that wound along behind him like a scratchy tail.

  He walked beneath the hot sun past strange houses and strange places until he came to his mother’s childhood home. He’d been drawn to it ever since the night he’d first seen it. It seemed to beckon him as if saying…come. Here is something you have lost. Something you may treasure could be here. Come.

  Could be it was all those ghosts from so long ago. All the past love that must still hover there had lured him to the site. He meandered over the ruins, careful not to trip or fall over the sharp bricks of the old foundation. There was the cherry tree. Something whispered through the breeze by his ear as he climbed the brittle branches and perched on a top one like a contented cat. It was as if he were home. The place felt so familiar to him, as if he’d been there before, long ago. The fields stretched out for endless miles before his narrowed eyes and he felt a twinge of guilt for being there. His mother hadn’t asked him to promise not to come here, but in his heart he knew she didn’t want him here.

  She was afraid of the place and the forest. She hadn’t told him so in so many words, but he’d sensed it the first night by the fear in her eyes as she’d scanned this same view.

  Something bad hung over this spot. He could sense it. But because he was aware of the danger, he knew to be careful.

  As he perched in the branches and listened to the wind, he wondered again why he’d come. Because he didn’t know. The sun lowered itself gradually like a reluctant bather into cold water. The shadows weaved fantastic shapes around him. The wind came, suddenly chilly on his face. It was coming in from the woods. He’d only been here twice but he fel
t as if he belonged…among the ruins and the dusty memories. The eerie sensation lasted barely a moment, but when it passed, Jeremy let out a gasp.

  Someone was sighing his name.

  Glancing downward, he saw a small boy peering up at him through the shadows. The same steel-blue eyes as his, and the same smile. It was like looking in a clouded mirror and seeing a different version of himself. As he calmly accepted it, he knew he did it too easily. “Hello. I’m Jeremy,” he said, gnawing on a twig absent-mindedly. A small voice in his head whispered that he should run away. Run.

  “I knew I’d meet you someday.” The boy on the ground was holding a big gray cat tightly in his arms. Jeremy noticed something funny about the cat right off. It didn’t move. Was it asleep? It was so still. “It’s a Maltese.” The boy with the familiar smile indicated the cat he was cuddling, as if he’d read Jeremy’s mind. “It’s such a bad cat, sometimes, and I have to punish it. It’s a pretty blue color though, isn’t it?”

  “More gray than blue,” Jeremy corrected.

  “Blue! I say it’s a blue cat and I should know!” The boy’s eyes were slits and he looked angry.

  Jeremy put up his hands in front of his face as if to ward off the other’s displeasure. “All righty. If you say it’s a blue cat, it’s a blue cat.” He thought the other kid was being stubborn on purpose. He smiled and playfully threw down a few leaves on the other boy’s head. His mouth fell open as he watched them simply go through the murky figure and drift to the ground.