Dead End Street

by Rick R. Reed

  “He threw the beam of his flashlight on the skid marks, letting the light follow their course, then noticed a dark spot on the left front bumper that looked liked blood.

  “He said aloud, ‘The poor kid probably swerved to avoid hitting something.’ What a shame.

  “Saturday night was just beginning. It was going to be a long shift.

  “As he got into the patrol car, the trooper noticed a flash of white in the rearview mirror, a barely perceptible movement, quick. He turned in his seat.

  “Nothing there.

  “He shook his head and picked up his radio to call for assistance.”

  * * *

  Erin was the first to speak. “I don’t know about anyone else, but I think I know the story I’ll vote for.” Her admiring brown eyes fell upon Roy. From his grin and the way the reddish hue moved up his neck to engulf his face, everyone in the group knew that he needed no further praise.

  Pete held up his hand. “Wait a minute. Balloting has to be secret. That’s the way we planned it from the start. Remember?” He looked over at Erin and gave her a stern look. “No influencing how other people vote. Got it?”

  Erin grinned and nodded, then looked back adoringly at Roy, giving him a smile she had never before given him.

  Marlene nodded. “And let’s all try to vote for the best story, not just our own. Okay?”

  David stared down at the floor, desperately afraid of losing. He knew that what Marlene had just said was probably true. Everyone in the group would vote for his or her own story. Except for Erin. She would vote for Roy. And then he would win. David didn’t know if he could bear that, not when he had worked so hard.

  David spoke. “How ’bout if we wait until Halloween night to vote? That’ll make it more official.”

  Everyone agreed. Halloween was only a couple of nights away, anyway, and they all planned to spend it at Erin’s house.

  Besides, it’ll give me more time to argue the merits of my story and put down everyone else’s. That is, if they let him. Peter and Marlene might stop him in his tracks if he tried anything to influence the others, just like they had with Erin. Sure, he was stronger than Erin, but he didn’t know if he could outmaneuver the group’s own rules and logic.

  “I guess it’s time for the real moment of truth,” David said, turning his thoughts to the tape recorder he had left upstairs. It sat on a closet shelf of the bedroom where he had found the tent and all that other evidence of human inhabitation. David shivered when he remembered going to that room a few days before to place the recorder, shivered when he recalled the darkness of the closet.

  “Time to see what’s on the recorder!” Roy shouted. He looked almost gleeful, then stopped when he looked around at the others. Marlene was wringing her hands. Erin’s eyes darted around the room, almost as if she were searching for a way out. Pete looked somber, his lips turned down into a frown, his eyes obscured by the thickness of his eyeglass lenses.

  “Where did you put the recorder?” Marlene asked.

  “It’s upstairs,” David said. “I’ll go get it.”

  “Why don’t we all go get it?” Roy said. “None of us have seen the upstairs of the house yet.”

  “Good idea,” Pete said, but he looked reluctant. He had stood and now edged nearer the front door.

  “I agree. This is a group thing, right? And besides, there’s safety in numbers.” Marlene, as usual, was the calm voice of reason.

  David felt a sheen of sweat break out on his forehead as he thought of them going upstairs with him. What would they say when they saw the dome tent and all the other trappings? They would know he had lied to them. He had made such a big deal out of telling them that the guy was leaving by “morning light” or some other crap like that.

  “C’mon, you guys. I already told you, there’s nothing up there. I’ll go get it.” David darted for the stairway.

  He should have known Marlene would be too smart for him. “Just one second there, buddy!” she shouted. Then she said to the rest of the group, “Can’t you see he’s up to something? C’mon, let’s go.”

  David, his heart thudding, continued up the stairs. He felt slightly nauseous at the thought of his friends finding him out for the liar he had been. Should he tell them now, before they reached the room? An odd heat spread across the back of his neck as the others followed him.

  What would happen, would happen. There wasn’t time for confessions. As his father would have told him, “Just stand up and take your medicine.”

  The whole group trudged up the steps, the floorboards complaining with the force of their combined weight. David led them straight to the back bedroom, wanting to get the situation past him as quickly as possible.

  The room was empty.

  David blinked as he had seen people do in movies when they couldn’t believe their eyes. There was no trace of a tent, a Coleman stove, or anything.

  Roy snickered. “David was right. For once. There really isn’t anything up here. Now where’s the recorder? My dad misses that and I’m dead meat.”

  David couldn’t move or say anything for a few seconds. He was still too stunned. Where had everything gone? It had been there when he had placed the recorder in the closet.

  “The recorder, David. Where did you put it?” Marlene poked him in the arm, bringing him out of his reverie. “You okay?” She was staring at him, head cocked.

  “Yeah,” he said weakly. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He moved across the room toward the closet and then a sickening realization hit him. What if the recorder was gone, too? Roy would be in major hot water with his dad.

  Face the music. David yanked open the closet door. It let out a suitably scary creak. Up on the top shelf the recorder remained where he had left it the other day.

  He let loose a huge rush of air, relieved.

  David pulled down the recorder. He hit rewind and the little wheels began to spin inside. He felt a tiny twinge of unease run up his spine as he realized there was actually something on the tape. But he turned to them, bravely grinning. “I guess now we see.”

  “I guess.” Erin’s voice was weak. She pulled her sweater closer around her shoulders.

  It took only seconds for the little machine to reach the beginning of the tape. The rewind button popped up. David was about to push play when Erin held out her hand to David and asked, “Are we sure we want to do this?”

  Everyone groaned. “Yes!” Marlene said. “A thousand times, yes! We’ve come this far. Honestly, Erin. Don’t be so dense.”

  Erin turned and glanced outside the room, as if she were looking for the quickest way to escape.

  David pushed the play button.

  Everyone grew silent, as if they’d all stopped breathing as the tape began to hiss, preparing themselves for the disappointment of hearing their own voices, recorded moments ago.

  Instead, they heard a man’s voice. He spoke clearly and said only two words. But the two words were enough to make them all obey. They were enough, in fact, to send them all running from the house in terror.

  The two words were: “Get out.”

  CHAPTER 8

  David Goes Back

  They were all wimps.

  David walked along the cinder ash road toward the Tuttle house, kicking up the little black stones that made up the road. Every last one of his friends had no courage, no toughness. He wondered why he had remained friends with such losers for so long. Just because they had known one another since they were little kids didn’t mean he had to continue to hang out with them. He should do what his dad said, anyway, and try out for sports. Maybe then he could find some friends who weren’t such pansies.

  After they had left the house earlier in the day, everyone had taken their turns with David, accusing him of being a liar, just as he had feared they would. The only thing that had amazed him was how fast Marlene caught on to his ruse. She knew right away. The others needed her help in pointing out David’s duplicity.

  Marlene’s eyes flashed almost imm
ediately once they were outside, and she turned on him, looking like she was ready to hit him.

  “What?” David asked and gave her a sheepish grin.

  Marlene narrowed her eyes at him. “You know what.” She continued walking stiffly, refusing to look at him.

  They ended up at Erin’s house, leaning against kitchen cabinets and counters while Erin poured apple cider for everyone. Marlene, as usual, had separated herself from the rest of the group. She was sitting on a chair just beyond the kitchen’s threshold. David should have known from her posture, the wheels were turning in her mind. Finally, she said, “Listen, everybody. Doesn’t it strike any of you as strange that the only person who’s checked things out when something weird has happened in that house has been David?”

  Everyone stopped talking. It was like she could get them thinking her way with just one question. David, for his part, began to sweat. He wondered if he should dart out of Erin’s now and head home, shoot hoops out by the garage until his dad got home.

  “What do you mean, Marlene?” Erin handed her a glass of cider.

  “Well, don’t you think it’s a little funny that David checked out the howl we heard and found it was just a stray, and David checked out the crash from upstairs and found it was just a bum. I mean, it was David who always reassured us that it was safe to go back.”

  Roy jumped in. “Yeah. And now we find out there was someone in that house.” He picked up the tape recorder. “And someone who might not have been too keen on the idea of us being there.” Roy stared down at the tape recorder like it was something strange and foreign, like something he wasn’t so sure he wanted to touch. He looked back up at the rest of them. “Why would a bum leave a message like that? Why would a bum just staying for the night want us to get out? How would he even know the tape recorder was there if he left when David said he was going to?”

  Erin looked at David then. Her liquid brown eyes bore into his. “What did you really see when you went back there, David?”

  David grinned. He knew there were all staring at him. And he knew they all knew the truth: he had lied. He could feel a cool sheen of sweat cover his face. His stomach churned. “I don’t know what you guys are talking about.”

  “I think you do,” Pete said. “It’s written all over your face.”

  “The heck with that,” David whispered. “You guys are just a bunch of losers.” David wasn’t going to admit anything. With as much calmness as he could muster, he turned and walked silently from the house, their questions and accusations ringing in his ears.

  * * *

  That evening, David found himself heading back to the Tuttle house. Alone. He had spent the afternoon down by the river, skipping rocks, thinking, and gathering his courage to do what he knew he needed to do. He had to redeem himself with his friends by finding out exactly what was going on in that house, and who it was that was hiding there. And he realized, that in spite of everything, they were his friends, and he didn’t want to lose them.

  Was it Paul Tuttle in the house? The idea was ridiculous enough to make David snicker. Still, it was true that Paul Tuttle had never been found after the murders. Was it so strange to think he might have returned to the house? It made a kind of sense. A kind of sense that turned David’s stomach with dread and made him shiver from a cold sensation that had nothing to do with the frosty, late afternoon air.

  But more likely was that he had told the truth to the group. The person in the house was nothing more than a hobo camping for a night or two. But just in case it wasn’t, David had brought his Swiss Army knife with him. It wasn’t much protection, but it was the best he could do.

  Even David couldn’t explain to himself, though, why a hobo would leave a cryptic message on the tape recorder, and why a hobo would want them all out. And what did it mean that the room was empty now? Had the mystery person really cleared out? Or had he been afraid the kids would report his little nest to the authorities? And if so, was he angry about that? Was he waiting? Waiting, maybe, for one of them to come back alone.

  The Tuttle house rose before him. The dying orange rays of the setting sun lit up the rotting wood of the house, destroying the shadows under which they usually hid. Somehow, the light had a weird effect. It made the house more foreboding, exposing it and bringing it to life.

  David looked up at eaves filled with twigs and dried grass birds had brought there to make nests. He thought he saw movement at one of the upper windows and then dismissed it. “You’re getting paranoid, buddy,” he whispered to himself. The flash of white he had seen didn’t necessarily have to be some evil person lying in wait for him, but merely a trick of the light, a change in shadow as the sun sunk farther on the horizon or as a cloud passed over its golden face.

  David slowed his brisk pace until he was almost standing still.

  Do I really have to do this?

  Sure, he could go inside the house, check things out. And then what would he tell the others? Say there was nothing in the house, just as he suspected would be the case? Would his friends believe him if he told them there was nothing to fear?

  But what if the person who had whispered the words “get out” in that sad-sounding, yet menacing, small voice was waiting inside for one or all of them to come back? Waiting with a knife or an ax to make sure none of them ever visited again?

  The sun had dipped behind the hills at last. Pale light gave a fuzzy grayness to everything. Long shadows accompanied David as he approached the house. With the light of the sunset gone, it was hard to see into the windows now. Darkness seemed to push outward from inside the house, as if the place were filled with pitch.

  David’s heart began to pound as he mounted the creaky front stairs and crossed the porch. His throat dried up, and he found it difficult to swallow as he turned the doorknob to go inside. A voice in the back of his mind tugged at him.

  Don’t go in. Don’t go in.

  He really wanted to listen to this voice. He really wanted to turn and run from the porch, down the hill. Go where it was safe. Go back to his friends. Maybe it wouldn’t kill him to apologize. He could declare Roy the winner in the Halloween Horror contest.

  But another voice spoke up, louder, drowning out the first. This second voice sounded remarkably like his father’s. In fact, David could see his father in his mind’s eye: arms folded across his broad chest, grinning at his son in a way that showed contempt for the boy, a way that demonstrated how weak he thought his son was. The image of his father snickered and then said, “Right, son. Don’t go in. That’d be about right for you. Run off and play Xbox with your pansy friends.” The image of his father turned away in disgust.

  David took a deep breath and shut his eyes tight, trying to quell the uncomfortable boom, boom, boom of his heart. He couldn’t let fear stop him from his mission, he just couldn’t. It would be just what his dad would expect.

  David forced himself to swing open the door and go inside the house.

  In the living room, darkness rose to meet him. What little light David could see was murky and gray. He really couldn’t make out anything farther away than an arm’s length.

  David sucked in some air as he heard a scuttling noise, like something small and furry diving for cover. He didn’t want to feel a rat running over his foot, and the gooseflesh rose on his arms.

  Standing quietly in the room, he waited for the blood pounding in his ears to stop so that he could listen better. After a moment or two, his breathing returned to an almost normal state, and he was able to tune into the house as it creaked in the wind. He also heard the rustle of dead leaves in the maple trees…death rattles before they descended to the ground, to join their brothers in the heaps and swirls of brown and rotting humus.

  Then David heard something new. And it wasn’t a rat or a mouse or dead leaves. There was a low humming sound. When he was able to block out everything else and tune into it, he discovered that it was coming from somewhere above him.

  He looked up in an effort to hear bett
er. The humming was low and almost tuneless. But as David zeroed in on the sound, it became clear that the noise was not without shape or form. There was a man humming above him, and the tune was that of a song he had learned long ago in grade school, when Miss Myers played the piano and the third graders sang in music class. The tune was “Red River Valley.”

  Oh, this is just too weird.

  It gave David a chill…this cheerful, upbeat sound here in this dark house where so much evil had taken place.

  Weird beyond word. Scary.

  David wanted to run as fast as he could. He had heard enough. But something froze him to the spot, kept his feet rooted to the old floorboards.

  Is this what it’s like to be paralyzed with fear?

  And David’s fear was growing because he could have sworn the humming was louder. Or was that just his imagination? Was it merely that he had picked up the tune and blocked out the other noises around him. Was this why David felt the humming was more distinct? He wanted so much to tell himself that those were the reasons. After all, they made a certain degree of sense.

  But sense didn’t matter much. Not when you were standing in an abandoned house with darkness all around you. And you knew, deep down, that there was only one explanation for why this weird humming was growing louder: the person who was doing it was closing in on you.

  David jumped when he heard one of the steps creak. He wanted to turn, to flee the house just as fast as he could.

  But the humming, which had picked up tempo, matched the tempo of the footsteps as their pace quickened. And David couldn’t move. It was like being in some awful nightmare where the bad thing is coming to get you, and your legs won’t function.

  David’s fear tightened around him like the grip of a cold, steel hand as he watched a pair of feet come into view, descending the stairs…feet in work boots…work boots that had probably made the tracks he had seen on his earlier trip upstairs.

  And then David saw knees, and blue jeans caked with dirt, and a faded old flannel shirt that might have been red at one time, but with grime and darkness looked brown.