Toy Cemetery

by William W. Johnstone

  “I’ll speak to Bruno.”

  “We have to move carefully on this. But very quickly. Everything has gotten out of hand. And I don’t understand why.”

  “Use your thick skull,” the spokesman said. “The strain is thinning. New blood should have been introduced two generations ago.”

  “And what can be done about it? It is written that the people must be enfranchised and emboldened, to be kings for a few hours.”

  “Until dawn.”

  The spokesman brought his hand down sharply on the table. “It is written that the night belongs to the serfs. That is something that we cannot undo. But it is also written that we can control it, to a point. The priest must die. But not by our hand.”

  “Jay Clute.” Yet another voice spoke. “After we are certain the daughter is loved in the dark fashion.”

  “Precisely. But the toys still remain a problem.”

  “They are soulless. They cannot be destroyed.”

  “Except by each other,” someone said.

  “We’ll call for a mass; ask for instructions,” the spokesman said. “But only the very highest priests shall attend it.”

  “A young one to appease the earth-locked emissary?”

  “Yes. I’ll see to that in the morning.”

  * * *

  The invisible thickness had grown in intensity during the short time the kids were inside the rectory.

  “It’s getting worse,” Carla commented.

  “Thicker with each passing night. And the people are becoming bolder. Whatever is going to happen, it’s going to be soon,” Ken added.

  “Not going to be safe to ride at night much longer,” Jenny said.

  “But Father Pat doesn’t seem afraid!” Robert’s voice held a note of panic.

  As they pedaled toward the house, Jenny said, “Father Pat made his peace with God a long time ago. He isn’t afraid to die.”

  “Are you?” Kelly asked her.

  “Yes ... and no. I don’t really understand what death is. But I don’t wanna die.”

  “Look out! Ange shouted. ”It’s Lisa and Jane and that bunch.”

  “Who’s that?” Kelly searched the night.

  “They didn’t fight it,” Jenny explained. “They gave in voluntarily.”

  Before Kelly could ask what that meant, a thrown rock struck her in the back. She lost her balance and the bike started wobbling, then toppled over. Kelly hit the street hard, cutting one knee. Tears sprang into her eyes; but the tears were angry tears.

  “Christian freaks!” a girl shouted. “Get them. Get them!”

  “Hurry, Kelly!” Jenny shouted. “Get on your bike and get outta there!”

  But Kelly, while not as streetwise as a gang member from the South Bronx, had lived all of her nearly ten years in New York City. She’d stood her ground against schoolyard bullies, young extortionists who tried to shake her down for her lunch money, and had been taking karate lessons two and three times a week since she was five years old.

  She assumed the stance and screamed, “You goddamned hillbillies! Come on!”

  The first boy from Lisa and Jane’s gang to reach her in the street got a hard kick in the nuts. He hit the street shrieking and vomiting.

  “Holy shit!” Robert breathed.

  Lisa was older and bigger, but not nearly as angry as Kelly. And not nearly as well disciplined. Kelly kicked up and caught the girl in the stomach. Then, whirling as gracefully as a ballet dancer, which she also took once a week, Kelly spun, and the side of her tennis shoe struck the bigger girl on the side of the head, knocking her sprawling on the street.

  “Come on!” Jenny yelled, tossing her bike to the street. “Let’s get ’em!”

  Badly outnumbered, Jenny led her followers into the fracas. The street turned into a slugging, scratching, biting, kicking, and bleeding gang war.

  The first physical skirmish went to Kelly and Jenny and friends. Shocked at the sudden ferocity from the outnumbered little band, Jane yelled for her side to retreat. Kelly’s first victim was dragged off, and Lisa was led away, blood streaming from her nose. She’d landed on her face when she was knocked down.

  “We’ll get you!” a member of Lisa’s gang yelled from the darkness.

  “Up yours!” Ange yelled.

  They jumped on their bikes and sped off into the thick murk.

  * * *

  The man at the service station had showed Jay the tires. Too damn many holes to try to repair.

  Jay bought four new tires.

  “You better call the kids and tell them we’re going to be late,” he said to Deva.

  “If they’re not still at Father Pat’s, they’ll be in the clubhouse. No phone out there. What worries me is that they might be out riding their bikes.”

  “In the middle of the night!”

  The service station attendant tried not to listen. Didn’t make no difference how classy you was, a man and his old lady was still gonna fuss and fight – and in the damnedest places.

  “Didn’t we, when we were their age?”

  Jay lost some of his anger. “Yeah. Of course, we did. But Victory today is not the Victory of thirty years ago, Deva.”

  “I wonder, Jay. I just wonder if maybe it wasn’t the same and we just didn’t know it.”

  “I don’t see how that could be.” Jay paid the man for the tires and they headed for Victory.

  “I have a confession to make, Jay.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  “If you hadn’t asked me out, I was going to ask you.”

  “So what’s wrong with that?”

  “My reasons.”

  He waited.

  “To get you out of town and back in late.”

  “And what is that going to prove?”

  “I want you to smell the evil.”

  Jay’s flesh began to crawl as tiny chill bumps of fear slithered over his skin. But it wasn’t caused by Deva’s words.

  It was what his eyes just picked up on the side of the road.

  8

  “Where did you learn to fight like that?” Jenny asked.

  “I’ve been taking karate lessons seems like all my life. Those kids called us Christian freaks – among other things. Why?”

  “Because they worship the devil. At least we’re pretty sure they do.”

  “Satanism,” Kelly said. She poured a Coke over ice and sipped it. “I see that stuff spray-painted on walls of buildings all the time. But New Yorkers don’t act like that.”

  “Hey, girls!” A boy’s voice carried from the street to the den of the house. “Come on outside and play with us. I got something I want to show you.”

  “That’s the first time they’ve ever done that.” Jenny walked to the draped window and peeked out. Her face flushed. “That nasty Wilson boy. He’s exposing himself in the street.”

  Ken stood up, still brave and flush from victorious combat. “I’ll go out there and kick his teeth in!”

  “No,” Jenny told him. “What you’ll do is sit yourself back down. It’s a trap, can’t you see that?”

  Ken sat back down. Actually, he’d been counting on someone stopping him.

  “Come on out, girls. Come out and play!”

  Kelly did her best to ignore the taunting voice. “You guys’ parents. What are they doing about this . . . stuff that’s goin’ on?”

  “Nothing,” Ange told her. “They’re neither here nor there in it.”

  “You wanna explain to me what that means?”

  “When all this really started getting bad,” Andy said. “We’d go home and tell our parents. They’d say, ’Oh, that’s nice. How was school today?’ No matter what we tried to say to them, it was like they were hearing something else. Man, it’s spooky!”

  “Your mom?” Kelly asked Jenny.

  “No. For some reason, she and Amy Fletcher are . . . what’s the word? Immune. And it looks like your dad is gonna be the same.”

  “Then all the people in town aren’t ... well, agai
nst us?”

  “No, but they aren’t for us either. It’s kind of like they’re neutral.”

  “You’ve seen the little toys come alive?”

  “Lots of times. We talk to them. The good ones.”

  “The good ones?”

  “There are good ones and there are bad ones. The little Viking who attacked you?” Kelly nodded. “I don’t think he’s bad. I think he just didn’t know what side you were on.”

  “Okay. I’ll accept that. But what are they? I mean, how did they get like they are?”

  “We don’t know. If Father Pat knows, he isn’t talking.”

  “How long has he been here?”

  “ ’Bout a year. He came here after Father Ryan disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?”

  “Oh, girls!” the boys taunted. “We got somethin’ that’ll make you feel good. Come on out.”

  Kelly walked to the draped window and looked out. “Those boys and girls are all older than us. The ones we fought tonight; they were all older.”

  “So?” Robert asked.

  “Why is that? They’re old enough to know better.”

  “The younger kids, like us, don’t take a part in much. As far as we know. The . . . I don’t know what to call it . . . taking over, I guess, doesn’t seem to start until the kids get into their teens.”

  “I wonder why that is?” Kelly asked.

  “Father Pat says that God is protecting the very young. He says that the very young need to be protected; but when a kid gets well into their teen years, they should know better.”

  “Why haven’t you just . . . left?” Kelly asked. “Take off and don’t look back?”

  “We’re ten years old,” Carla said. “You know how far we’d get before the cops would grab us and bring us back.”

  Kelly glanced at her watch. “They should have been back before this.” She cut her eyes to Jenny and the girl nodded in agreement. “I’m gettin’ worried.”

  * * *

  Jay pulled closer and then stopped. He heard Deva’s sharp intake of breath. She covered her eyes with her hands.

  “What is that thing, Jay?”

  “I think it’s a human being. But I’m not sure.”

  Deva peeked out between her fingers. “Oh, my God, Jay – it’s coming closer!”

  “Believe me, I see it.” Jay checked the electric door lock. The doors were secure, all the windows up. Whatever the human-appearing thing was, it moved closer, into the full glare of headlights.

  “It’s human,” Jay muttered. “Barely.”

  The man moved closer. It was a sight, soon to be among many, that would forever be burned into the memories of all who witnessed it.

  The shoulders were huge; the head no bigger than an apple. The legs were very short, and the arms very long, the fingertips dragging the ground. It looked very powerful and very dangerous.

  It also had a club in its right hand.

  Jay put the car in reverse, backed up, and cut onto a gravel road, pulling up under a huge tree. He cut the lights and the engine.

  “Have you lost your flipping mind?” Deva hissed at him. “Get us out of here, Jay!”

  The creature had stopped dead still in the road. It seemed confused after the harsh glare of headlights. A few hundred yards away, bobbing beams of light appeared.

  “Be very quiet, Deva,” Jay whispered. He turned on the ignition and lowered his window. He could hear the sounds of voices. “Someone is coming. Listen. And pray they didn’t see us.”

  “Al!” a man’s voice called. “Come on, now, Al. You be a good boy and come on back with us.”

  “Its name is Al,” Jay murmured. “But what is it?”

  “Jay, I’m about to wet my pants!” Deva’s voice was shaky with fear.

  “Sshhh!”

  At least a dozen heavy flashlights caught the being in their strong streams of light. Al – if that was its name – raised the club and emitted a high-pitched scream, ripping the night. The shrieking was not of fear, but of rage.

  “Careful now,” a man cautioned. “Someone get the trank gun.”

  “Let’s just kill the son of a bitch and be done with it,” another suggested.

  “No. That’s forbidden. There are plans for them later.”

  “Them,” Jay whispered. “That means there are more like him.”

  “Oh, thanks a bunch, Jay.”

  “But I wonder if the ’them’ they’re talking about are out and loose.”

  “On top of everything else, now this,” Deva replied.

  “Forbidden,” Jay said. “What’s that mean?”

  Man and woman looked at each other in the darkness of the interior of the car, only slightly lighter than the night outside. Neither of them had an answer.

  A tranquilizer gun popped. Al once more screamed. Jay and Deva watched as the misshapen creature slumped to his knees, then fell over to one side, unconscious in the middle of the road.

  The men worked fast and with no wasted motion.

  “They’ve done this many times before,” Jay observed.

  Within minutes, an ambulance rolled up, without flashing lights. Al was strapped onto a stretcher and loaded up. The men disappeared as the ambulance rolled silently away. The landscape was once more empty of life.

  But Jay wasn’t all that certain.

  “Can we please leave now?” Deva asked.

  “Give it a few minutes. There may be someone watching to see if they were observed.”

  Jay’s hunch paid off. About five minutes after the ambulance had left, a lone figure stepped out of the woods.

  “They’re very cautious folks,” Jay whispered. “You see him? Right over there.” He pointed.

  They watched as the man lifted something to his mouth.

  “Walkie-talkie,” Jay said, as the thin light from the moon caught the glint of the antenna.

  In less than a minute, a van topped the hill, coming from behind them, and stopped in the road. The guard stepped in, and the van was gone over the next hill.

  “Neat and well planned,” Jay observed. “Just like a military mission.”

  Deva breathed a sigh of relief. “Jay, please, let’s go to my house.”

  * * *

  As they drew closer to the town of Victory, Deva said, “Lower your window, Jay, and tell me what you smell.”

  At first, Jay could smell nothing. He slowed the car and finally stopped just inside Victory city limits. He took a deep breath.

  “Whew! What is that?”

  “Evil. It just began, the smell, about a week ago.”

  Jay pulled his arm back in and raised the window. “Jesus Christ! It’s almost ... a tangible thing.”

  “Makes your flesh crawl, doesn’t it?”

  “At least that.”

  They drove slowly on and Jay remarked, “Sure a lot of people out for this time of night.”

  “It’s getting worse. I’ve never seen this many people out before.”

  “They don’t seem to have any direction, Deva. They’re just ... milling around.”

  “Yes, but ...” She glanced at her watch. “At midnight, thirty minutes from now, they’ll all go home. Most of them anyway.”

  “What will the rest of them do?”

  “Prowl. They’ve never hurt anyone, but back when people would talk about it, I say back, it’s only been a couple of weeks, some people have awakened to find some of these . . . night crawlers standing over their beds.”

  “Night crawlers. That’s a good description for them.”

  Jay wheeled into Deva’s driveway. They both saw the darting, running shapes of young men, caught in the glare of the headlights.

  “Little bastards!” Deva spat the words.

  “You know them?”

  “I could make out two of them. Ted and Harris. Little no-good thugs.”

  “I gather you’ve had run-ins with them before?”

  “Once or twice.” Her tone could neutralize battery acid.

  “Hey,
Pops!” The voice came at them as soon as they got out of the car. “Deva’s real good action, ain’t she, man?”

  “How long has this been going on, Deva?” Jay asked.

  “It hasn’t. This just started. You think I’d have put up with this?”

  “I shouldn’t think so.”

  In the house, the kids all started talking at once. Jay and Deva had to literally shout them down. Quieted, Deva said, “One at a time. Since majority doesn’t rule in this house, you start, Jenny.”

  Quite succinctly and very adultlike, Jay thought, the girl outlined the evening since the grown-ups had left.

  “Anybody else have anything to add?” Deva asked.

  Since Jay and Kelly tried to be as open as possible with each other, she raised her hand.

  “Go ahead, Kelly.”

  She told him about the boy exposing himself on the porch, and about the things the boys in the yard had shouted. And she was word for word.

  Deva cringed as the child spoke.

  Jay’s face was tight with rage. “That does it, Deva. Call the cops.”

  The kids began smiling.

  Deva made no move toward the phone.

  “Are you nine-one-one here?” Jay almost shouted the question. “Hell, I’ll do it myself.”

  “Jay,” Deva spoke softly. “It won’t do a bit of good. Nothing will be done about it. I promise you that.”

  “How do you know? You said yourself it’s never been this bad.”

  “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t tried the police on more than one occasion.” She glanced at her daughter. “When was the last time, baby?”

  “Last night. Oh, they came out, Mr. Clute. They asked questions and wrote things down in a little notebook. Just like they always do. And then they drove away. Just like they always do.”

  Jay glared at Deva. “Then you all wait here. I’m going out the back door and slip up on one of those little punks. I’ll hammer his face in!”

  “And then you know what will happen?” Deva’s voice stopped him and turned him around.

  “You tell me.”

  “The little creeps will go home, tell their parents, the parents will call the cops, the cops will pick you up, take you to jail, and then probably to the hospital. You’ll stay there for a long time. And if you come out, you will not be the Jay Clute that left here this night.”

  “How do you know they’ll take me to the hospital?”