Box of Terror 2 (another 4 book horror box set)

by Michael Bray

  “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 what 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.”

  Randy didn’t like it, but he also had a duty to do whatever he could to help his friend through the process of grieving, and so he decided to push away his own uncertainty, and get this little voyeuristic mission over with as quickly as possible.

  “Well.” He said with a sigh. “No point standing around and waiting. Let’s get on with it.”

  They walked towards the house, weaving around the scarecrows as they neared. Randy saw that some were older than others, the tired plaid shirts they wore were rotten and hanging off the straw sack bodies. He drew a deep breath, and his senses were filled with the scent of moist earth, straw, and rot.

  “Is anyone else freaked out by these things?” Kenny whispered.

  Randy was, but he wasn’t about to admit it, and so remained silent, and Kenny’s question remained unanswered.

  They were close now and crouched behind the last row of scarecrows, beyond which were the farmers crops and the house.

  “That’s weird,” Dwayne said as he looked at Randy with a wide grin.

  “What is?”

  “Look at his crops,” Dwayne said, finishing his beer and tossing the can over his shoulder.

  Randy did. They looked remarkable. Rows of well-kept tomato plants and potatoes. Behind that, rows of cabbages and beets, then by the side of the house a modest size cornfield.

  “It all looks normal to me. What are you seeing?” Randy asked.

  “My uncle has a farm,” Dwayne whispered. “He had crops like this too, but this whole setup is wrong.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Come on Randy, think about it. Why would a farmer have a scarecrow?”

  “To protect his crops from birds I guess.”

  “Exactly, now look again.”

  Randy did and was still unsure what he was looking for. He was about to say as much when it hit him.

  “You see it now, right?” Dwayne pressed, and flashed another sick grin.

  He did see it. He looked over his shoulder, then back at the crops, and questions began to fill his mind.

  The crops were the only place where there were no scarecrows. They were open and exposed, and as Randy looked around him he thought he understood.

  “The scarecrows aren’t protecting the crops.” He said as he looked at Dwayne. “They are protecting the house.”

  “What the hell would they be protecting the house from?” Kenny asked, now desperate to leave.

  “I don’t know Kenny, giant birds? Shut up and let me think.” Dwayne hissed.

  Kenny mumbled and lowered his head, as Randy and Dwayne stared at the house.

  “What do you think?” Randy asked.

  “I think we go take a closer look.”

  “I’m not so sure, I have a bad feeling here.”

  “Look, this is just a crazy old man who doesn’t know what he’s doing. Nothing more.” Dwayne said with more than a hint of bravado.

  “Then why are you so determined to look into the house?”

  Dwayne was about to reply, when he saw a flash of silver in his peripheral vision. The object landed on the dirt between him and Randy, and the two of them looked at it, and then in unison, whipped their heads around to look behind them.

  “What?” Kenny said shrugging his shoulders, but he was ignored. They were looking past Kenny, into the tangle of sticks, straw and old clothes which swayed and creaked in the breeze. Kenny joined them in staring into the dense mass of scarecrows.

  The air was still, a thick silence hanging heavy as the trio glared into the darkness from where they crouched.

  “You saw me toss that, right, Randy?” Dwayne said, his voice now stripped of bravado.

  Randy nodded. He had seen Dwayne throw it over his shoulder when they first arrived here at the edge of the crops. And now, someone had tossed it back.

  “Yeah, I saw it.”

  “Will someone tell me what’s going on?” Kenny asked, his voice a little too high and his eyes a little too wide.

  “Someone’s out there,” Dwayne said, flashing that sly grin that reminded Randy of the cat from Alice in Wonderland.

  “Shut up man, that’s not funny,” Kenny whispered, then he saw that neither of his friends was laughing, and the three of them stared into the dark.

  “I think we should get out of here,” Randy whispered.

  “Yeah, me too.” Dwayne agreed. “You ready Kenny?”

  Kenny didn’t answer. Instead, he stared into the scarecrows.

  “What’s wrong? Dwayne hissed.

  “They are moving out there.”

  “Who, the people that are screwing with us?”

  “No. The scarecrows.”

  Dwayne started to laugh, but something in Kenny’s eyes made him stop, and he too stared. They watched and waited.

  “This is bullshit,” Dwayne said, and he scooped up the can and for the second time tossed it deep into the forest of scarecrows. They waited for it to come back, but there was nothing out there but that same heavy silence.

  “That’s it, I’m done,” Randy said, standing and brushing the dirt from his knees. “I’m leaving.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Kenny added.

  Randy was expecting to have to convince Dwayne and was surprised when he too stood and zipped up his jacket with shaking hands.

  “I’m with you; let’s get the hell out of here.”

  They moved quickly, crouched over as they crisscrossed their way around the maze of scarecrows. It was hard to see which way they had come and combined with their panic, disorientation set in.

  “Which way?” Kenny sai
d, closer than ever to losing it.

  “Keep going straight, we’ll be out soon enough.”

  “It shouldn’t be taking this long.” He shot back. “Screw this.”

  Kenny stood, and there framed by the moonlight, both Dwayne and Randy saw it all.

  One of the scarecrows moved. It turned its head – a cloth bag stuffed with straw and adorned with a rough hand drawn face. At the same time, it swung towards Kenny, the wooden frame which held its arms at its side hitting him full in the face.

  Kenny yelped as the wood smashed into his nose, staggering him backwards. The scarecrows behind him swung aside to accommodate him, and then closed behind him.

  Kenny was gone.

  “What the fuck was that?” Dwayne croaked as the scarecrows began to sway and move as if rocked by the wind. The way ahead was closed, lost in the movements of the scarecrows.

  “Come on, back the way we came,” Randy yelled as he turned and ran back towards the warm yellow glow from the windows of the house.

  “What about Kenny?” Dwayne said as he followed.

  Randy didn’t answer. If it were a movie, they would go back and retrieve their portly friend, but here in real life, Randy didn’t care enough about Kenny to risk his own skin. His only concern was getting free of the scarecrows.

  “Hey!” Randy screamed. “Hey, you in the house, open up!”

  The pair burst free of the scarecrows, and charged over the crops, giving the cabbages and carrots underfoot little regard. They arrived at the house, and Randy pounded on the door.

  “Hey, open up!” He yelled.

  “Jesus, look at this,” Dwayne said.

  Randy turned and pressed his back to the door and looked at the scarecrows.

  When they had arrived, they were all facing out away from the house, but now as the two boys stood with their backs to the farmhouse door, the scarecrows were facing inwards. They were like sentinels, watching with eyes that were as unreal as the heads they were drawn on. Any sense of a path through them was gone. The house was surrounded. As they waited, the door swung open, and Randy fell backwards, landing in a heap on the floor of the farmhouse.