by Brian Keene
She turned in the opposite direction and looked farther down the street. It seemed to terminate in a dead end. Beyond the row homes was a large swath of debris covered pavement, as if all the buildings in that section had been knocked down. The moonlight was stronger there, and the headlights of passing cars illuminated the scene. Chunks of concrete and twisted metal girders jutted from the devastation. Beyond that was a single house, much larger than the rest of the row homes. Kerri thought it must be at least a hundred years old, judging by the architecture. Maybe one of the original buildings in this neighborhood, standing there long before the slums had been erected. She supposed at one time it had been very pretty. Now it was a desolate ruin—in even worse condition than the other row homes. It seemed to squat at the end of the street, looming over the block. Beyond it was a vacant lot, overgrown with weeds and brambles. Behind that was a tall, rusted chain-link fence. Kerri stared at the house. She shivered despite the heat. She had the uncanny impression that the abandoned building was somehow watching them.
Tyler cursed, rapping his knuckles against the car, and Kerri’s attention returned to her friends. As she did, she noticed that the street had emptied of traffic. They were suddenly all alone.
“Maybe we should call Steph’s parents,” Brett suggested. “It’s pretty late, and we’re in a bad neighborhood.”
Tyler glanced up at him, opened his mouth to respond, and then stared over Brett’s shoulder. Kerri saw his face twitch. Then she and the others turned around to see what had attracted his attention.
The group of black men she’d noticed a moment before was slowly approaching. The boys appeared to be about the same age as they were. Most of the youths were dressed in either athletic jerseys or white tank tops. Their pants, held up only by tightly cinched belts and the tongues of their high-topped sneakers, sagged almost to their kneecaps, exposing their boxer shorts. Gold rings and necklaces completed the ensemble. A few of them wore backwards ball caps on their heads. The one in the lead wore a black do-rag on his head. Gold hoops glittered from each of his ears. He reminded Kerri of a pirate.
“Oh shit,” Brett whispered. “What the hell do they want?”
Stephanie whimpered. “We’re going to get mugged.”
Brett nodded. “This is bad. This is really fucking bad.”
“Calm the hell down,” Javier said. “You guys automatically assume that just because they’re black, they’re gonna mug us?”
“Look at them,” Brett insisted. “They sure as hell don’t look like they’re here to sell us Girl Scout cookies.”
Javier glared at him, speechless.
The group shuffled closer. All of them walked with a sort of lazy, loping gait. Kerri’s nervousness increased. She wanted to agree with Javier, but then she considered their situation and their surroundings. Panic overwhelmed her. She reached for Tyler’s hand, but he was stiff as stone.
“Shit,” Brett moaned. “Fucking do something, you guys!”
Javier shoved him. “Dude, chill out. You’re acting like an asshole.”
When the group was about ten feet away, they stopped. The leader stepped forward and glared at them suspiciously.
Slowly, his friends stepped alongside him.
“The fuck y’all doing around here? You lost?”
His voice was deep and surly. He stood tensed, as if ready to spring at them.
Stephanie and Heather clasped hands and took a simultaneous step backward. Brett slipped in behind them. Javier stepped out from behind the car and faced the group. Tyler slowly slammed the hood, then joined him. Kerri stayed where she was. Her feet felt rooted to the spot. Her heart pounded beneath her breast.
Another of the black youths spoke up. “Man asked you a question.”
“We don’t want any trouble,” Tyler said.
Kerri cringed at the plaintive, pleading tone in his voice.
“Well, if you don’t want no trouble,” the leader said, grinning, “then you’re in the wrong place.”
His friends chuckled among themselves in response. He held up a hand and they immediately fell silent.
“Come into this neighborhood after dark,” he continued, “then you must be looking for trouble. Or dope. Or be lost. So which one is it?”
“Neither,” Javier challenged. “We had a little car trouble. That’s all. Just called for a tow truck and they’re on the way.” He paused. “Should be here any minute now.”
The leader elbowed the gangly kid next to him. “You hear that shit, Markus? He said a tow truck is on the way.”
Markus smiled and nodded. “I heard that, Leo. What you think?”
The leader—Leo—stared at Javier as he responded. “I think this esse be bullshitting us, y’all. Ain’t no tow trucks come down here after dark. Not to this street.”
Javier and Tyler glanced at each other. Kerri saw Tyler’s Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat. She turned to Stephanie, who was slowly pulling her cell phone out of her purse.
“Now for real,” Leo said. “What y’all doing down here? You looking to score?”
“M-maybe,” Tyler said. “What you got?”
Leo stepped closer. “The question is, what you got? How much money you carrying?”
Oh shit, Kerri thought. Here it comes. Next, they’ll pull out a knife or a gun.
“W-we came from the M-monsters of H-hip Hop,” Brett stammered, hidden behind the girls. “We’re j-just trying to g-get home.”
The group broke into raucous laughter. Kerri couldn’t tell if it was over the all-too-apparent fear in Brett’s voice, or the fact that a bunch of white, obviously suburbanite kids had been at a hardcore rap concert.
Leo glanced at the car, then at each of them. Kerri felt his eyes lingering on her. She shuddered. Then his gaze flicked back to the car again.
“Alright,” he said, “let’s handle this shit nice and easy. Tell you what we’ll do. Y’all give us—”
“Fuck you, nigger!”
Kerri was just as surprised as Leo and his cronies. She heard feet pounding on the pavement, and turned to see Brett running away, racing toward the large abandoned house at the end of the block. A second later, Stephanie and Heather dashed off after him. Stephanie’s cell phone slipped from her grasp and clattered onto the pavement as she fled. She didn’t stop to retrieve it. Tyler chased after them, shouting. Javier and Kerri stared at each other for the beat of one heart, and then he grabbed her arm and pulled her along.
“Come on!”
“Hey,” Leo shouted. “The fuck did you just call me?”
“Oh Jesus,” Kerri gasped. “Oh my God . . .”
“What the hell is wrong with you guys?” Javier called after their fleeing friends. “You assholes are gonna get us killed.”
“Shut the fuck up and run,” Tyler answered, not bothering to look over his shoulder and see if Kerri was okay.
“Yo,” Leo yelled, “get back here. Hey, motherfuckers. I’m talking to you!”
Kerri screamed as she heard them give chase. Leo had stopped shouting. Their pursuers moved in silence, save for grunts, gasps, and the sound of their feet slapping the sidewalk.
“Go,” Javier said, shoving her forward. He kept up the pace behind her, putting himself between Kerri and their pursuers. He paused only to duck down and retrieve Stephanie’s cell phone.
The chase continued down the street—Brett in the lead, followed by Stephanie and Heather, then Tyler, with Kerri and Javier bringing up the rear. The strap on one of Heather’s sandals broke, and the shoe flew off her foot. She slowed for a second, and Tyler shot past her, not stopping. Crying, Heather kicked off her other shoe and sped up again, running barefoot. Kerri noticed in horror that her friend was leaving bloody footprints. Heather must have cut her foot on some of the broken glass littering the sidewalk. Kerri wondered if Heather even realized it, or if adrenaline and instinct had overridden the pain.
They fled past the row homes and entered the wasteland of jumbled debris. The street
lights in this section weren’t functioning, and the shadows deepened around them. Kerri heard something scurrying behind a pile of crumbled masonry and nearly shrieked. Behind them, the sound of pursuit halted.
“Yo,” Leo bellowed. “Get the fuck back here. You all are asking for trouble you keep going.”
Ignoring him, they made a beeline for the abandoned house. It loomed before them in the darkness. Heather stumbled and fell behind, but Kerri and Javier helped her. Even though the pursuit had stopped, they didn’t slow. Kerri’s breathing became jagged, more frantic. She tried to calm herself by looking at her friends. Stephanie was mouthing the Lord’s Prayer. Brett’s face was set in a worried scowl, his steps drunken and dazed. Tyler’s eyes were wide and panicked, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead.
Kerri glanced back and saw Leo and the rest of his gang lurking at the edge of the wasteland, slowly milling back and forth. He shouted something, but they were too far away to hear him. Probably another threat. Kerri wondered why they’d given up chasing them so easily.
Maybe they were content to busy themselves with Tyler’s car. She felt a pang of sorrow. Poor Tyler—Dustin would be livid when he found out.
Javier urged them on faster, careful to step over the worst holes, guiding them around piles of debris. Brett mumbled something, his voice low and on the edge of hysteria.
“Shut the fuck up,” Javier told him. “It’s your stupid ass that got us into this mess. What the hell were you thinking, you dumb motherfucker?”
Instead of responding, Brett quietly sobbed.
Javier handed Stephanie her cell phone.
“Thanks,” she mumbled.
“What now?” Tyler asked, conceding to Javier.
“In there.” He nodded at the abandoned home. “We hole up inside and call the cops.”
“But they’ll see us go in,” Heather whispered.
“I don’t think so,” Javier said. “We can see them back there because of the streetlights. But here it’s dark. I noticed as we were running up—you can’t see shit from back there. Just shadows. Long as we’re quick and quiet, we should be okay.”
Stephanie eyed the house warily. “What if somebody lives there?”
“Look at it,” Javier said. “Who’s gonna live inside a shithole like this?”
“Crackheads,” Kerri answered. “Homeless people. Rats.”
Instead of replying, Javier pushed past them, plodding up the sagging porch steps. They groaned under his weight, but held. The handrail wobbled when he grasped it for support, and small flakes of rust and paint rained down onto the pavement. The others followed. Kerri studied the rough brick and mortar of the exterior wall. It was covered with sickly, whitish-green moss. The windows were all boarded over with moisture-stained plywood sheets. Curiously, unlike the occupied row homes, this abandoned house was free of graffiti.
When they were all on the porch, Javier explored the pitted wooden door. It was misshapen and water-warped, and several coats of paint peeled off it, revealing a variety of sickly colors. He found the doorknob, an old cut crystal affair, and turned it. The door opened with a grating squeal. Dirt and paint flecks fell onto his forearm and dusted his hair. Standing back, Javier brushed the debris away.
“Hello?” Brett’s voice was a hoarse whisper. “Anybody home?”
There was no answer.
They peered inside, but the interior was hidden within a deep, oppressive darkness. Kerri had the impression that if she reached her hand out, the darkness would be a tangible thing, capable of sticking to her fingers like tar. Javier shoved forward, stepping into the gloom. Kerri followed him. Stephanie and Heather hesitated for a moment before proceeding. Heather limped, still leaving bloody footprints in her wake. Brett trailed along behind them, followed by Tyler, who slammed the door shut once he’d stepped through it. The sound echoed throughout the structure. The others glared at him in annoyance. Tyler shrugged defiantly.
“We need some light,” Kerri whispered.
She pulled out her cigarette lighter and flicked it. The shadows seemed to converge around the flame. Tyler opened his lighter and did the same. Heather, Javier, and Stephanie flipped open their cell phones, adding the weak, green illumination from the display screens.
Kerri turned in a circle, sweeping the lighter around. A cobweb brushed against her cheek. She shuddered, brushing it away. They were standing in a dank, mildewed foyer. A hallway stretched into the darkness. Several closed doors led off from it into other parts of the house. Yellow wallpaper peeled away from the dingy walls in large sheets, revealing cracked bare plaster splattered with black splotches of mildew. There were holes in the baseboards where rats and insects had chewed their way through.
Something scurried in the shadows—a dry, rustling sound. Heather stifled a shriek.
“Hear anything?” Javier asked Tyler, nodding toward the door.
Tyler leaned close and listened. Then he shook his head and shrugged. “Nothing. This lighter is burning the shit out of my fingers, though.”
He released the button and the flame disappeared. Somehow, even with the other lighter and the cell phones still glowing, it suddenly seemed darker.
“Maybe they’re gone,” Brett suggested. “Maybe they gave up.”
“And maybe,” Tyler said, “they’re fucking up Dustin’s car while we’re standing here. Fuck this shit.”
He reached for the doorknob.
“What are you doing?” Kerri whispered.
“Taking a peek outside. I’m just gonna open it a crack.”
His hand turned. The knob didn’t move. He jiggled it, but it remained motionless. Frozen.
Stephanie squeezed closer to Brett and peered over his shoulder, watching Tyler. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s stuck or something. Fucking thing won’t open.”
Javier groaned. “Did it lock behind you?”
“How the hell should I know?”
“Chill, bro. Keep your voice down. We don’t want them to hear us.”
“Fuck that. I ain’t staying in this shithole all night. My fucking brother’s car is out there.”
“You should have thought of that before.”
Tyler wheeled around, facing him. He jabbed a finger into Javier’s chest.
“This shit isn’t my fault. Brett’s the one who called them niggers.”
Javier stiffened. His jaw clenched. For a moment, Kerri thought he was going to punch Tyler, but then he relaxed. He held his hands up in surrender.
“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay. Relax. But we can’t go breaking that door down, man. If they’re still out there, they’ll hear us. Our best bet is to go into one of these rooms, find some windows, and see if we can peer through the cracks in the boards. Maybe we can figure out where they are.”
Tyler nodded, slumping his shoulders.
“You’re right.”
He strode forward and opened the first door on his left. The rusty hinges creaked as the door swung slowly, revealing more darkness. Kerri stepped up behind him, holding her lighter over his head to illuminate the room beyond.
“Hurry up,” she whispered. “My lighter’s getting hot.”
Tyler hesitated.
And in his hesitation, everything changed.
Shit happened.
Kerri saw the looming, shadowy figure standing on the other side of the doorway. She knew that Tyler saw it, too, because his entire body stiffened. He made no sound. Kerri tried to speak, tried to warn the others, but her mouth suddenly went dry, and her tongue felt like sandpaper. Her breath hitched in her chest.
The person inside the room was impossibly large. She couldn’t make out any features, but its head must have nearly been touching the ceiling. The figure’s shoulders were broad, and its torso was thick as an oil drum. There was something in the figure’s hand. It looked like a giant hammer.
Tyler moaned.
There was a flash of movement.
When she was twelve years old, Kerri’s older broth
er had managed to get some M-80 firecrackers. They were as big as the palm of her hand and made her nervous when she held them. Her brother and his college buddies had shoved the explosive deep inside a watermelon just to see what would happen. When they lit the fuse, there was a titanic clap of thunder followed by a massive spray of seeds and pink pulp and rind.
That was what happened to Tyler’s head. Only it wasn’t seeds and rind, it was bone and hair and brains. Warm wetness splashed across Kerri’s face and soaked through her shirt and bra. She tasted it in the back of her throat. Felt it running down her head and inside her ears. Something hot and vile and solid trickled over her lips. She gagged and dropped her lighter.
Tyler stood there for a moment, jittering. Then he toppled over with a thud.
Kerri opened her mouth to scream, but Brett beat her to it.
The giant figure lunged toward them.
TWO
“Fuck this shit,” Leo muttered. “I ain’t going any further.”
Markus and the others gaped at him. They’d halted at the edge of the streetlights, about fifty yards from the abandoned house at the end of the block. A group of clouds had passed over the moon, and the area was now pitch-black.
“You just gonna let them get away with that?” Jamal asked. “You hear what they said?”
Leo nodded. “I heard. But look at the facts, Jamal. Six white kids. Judging by their clothes and shit, I’d say they were from the suburbs. Come into the city, got lost, broke down in the hood—and then we come walking up. Probably scared the piss out of them.”
“True that,” Markus said. “They probably thought we were slinging crack or something. Probably sit at home, watching The Wire and shit, and thinking everyone in the hood is a drug dealer.”
