Red Harvest

by Patrick C. Greene

  * * * *

  Filling out a report on an old, heavy steel Royal typewriter, Hudson cursed both the antique and his own lack of typing skill as he applied correction fluid to his seventh error.

  Deputy Yoshida approached, leading Reverend McGlazer. “Hud! Visitor.” Hudson looked up. “Reverend, take a seat.”

  “You’re not too busy?”

  “Not until the next sweet old spinster or volunteer crossing guard goes cuckoo for no discernible reason.” Hudson sipped cold coffee and grimaced. “What can I do for you?”

  “Well…” McGlazer seemed to search for words. “It’s a little strange.” He set before Hudson the mercurial little candy that had tried to kill him and changed its mind, its wrapper unfurling in the open air.

  “What’s this?”

  “I found it on my desk.”

  Hudson raised an eyebrow.

  “I know, I know. I’m always eating candy. But…”

  McGlazer was weighing just how much to tell him. “I just got an odd feeling about this one.”

  He dared not mention the gray shape or the leaf knives, for fear Hudson would suspect him of falling off the wagon.

  “About what? Halloween candy?” Hudson scoffed.

  McGlazer gave an embarrassed smile, then grew serious and tapped the candy. “Is there any way you could have this analyzed?”

  “Looks like it was partially consumed.” Hudson scooped it up under the wrapper and examined it. “You?”

  “No.” McGlazer silently asked forgiveness for the lie.

  “I could send it to a lab, but it could be as long as a week before we get any results. Low priority, you know. And I doubt the chief would okay it.” With an exasperated expression he jerked his head at a corner office with a closed door. “Pumpkin Parade always stretches the budget—and the old boy’s patience—razor thin.”

  “I see.” McGlazer felt some small guilt that he was using his “earnest” expression on his friend and parishioner, the same he used at offering time.

  “Well, if you wanna leave it with me,” Hudson offered, leaning back in his creaky chair, “I’ll see what I can swing.”

  * * * *

  Stuart stuffed a stack of comics titled Horrifear! and Haunt of the Accursed into his backpack, along with some candy bars and a heavy aluminum flashlight. He hoisted it, then went to the living room where his mother folded clothes while watching a black-and-white soap opera rerun. “See you later, Ma.”

  “Wait, Stuart,” she said, her face going grim, as she sat on the edge of the couch.

  Ah, crap, Stuart thought, doing a quick check of his recent activities to see why he might be in trouble. He sat beside her.

  “Your history teacher called today,” Ma began.

  “Mrs. Steinborn?”

  “She said another student had made a comment about your father.”

  “Oh,” Stuart said. “That.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, Ma. It’s not like it was some major news flash.”

  She pushed his hair away from his face to see his eyes, and Stuart knew she was wondering if he needed a shrink.

  “Kelly. She wasn’t really talking about Dad,” Stuart explained. “Just, she likes to talk about God.”

  It was a topic Ma rarely touched on outside of singing hymns at church. Dennis had told Stuart she was probably not so sure about all that stuff anymore.

  “Well.” She cleared her throat and smoothed her skirt. “I’m a little worried about you going to that cemetery without an adult. After what happened to Mister Dukes…”

  “Ma, we have to get the gravestone rubbings for school.”

  Ma tsked. “Such a morbid assignment. Are you still going to the movies after?”

  “Hell—uh, I mean, heck yeah, Ma. It’s the Screecher Feature!”

  “Well…” Before she could protest further, Stuart kissed her and slid out the door.

  On the street, Dennis rolled out from under the hearse and stood, his face and neck spotted with grease. “The big night has arrived,” Dennis said, wiping his hands on a bandana.

  “Devil’s Night!” Stuart exclaimed—but not too loud.

  “She bought it?”

  “What’s to buy?” Stuart mirrored Dennis’s “charming hood” bit right back at him. “We are getting grave rubbings. And they are for school.”

  “Right. But the Screecher Feature?”

  “Okay, so that one was just a little whitey,” Stuart admitted. “Are you coming by?”

  “We’re blocking the parade till pretty late. But after that, we gotta collect the gear. So, just maybe, we’ll make the scene. Give you tots one good scare.”

  “Yeah, you suck, if you do!”

  “Don’t tear the joint down.” Dennis tossed Stuart the key. “More importantly, don’t touch our gear!”

  “Horror comics and root beer. That’s it.” Stuart climbed on his bike, regarding Dennis thoughtfully.

  “Ah, hell. What’s with the look?”

  “Candace is meeting us.”

  Dennis grinned. “You sly hound! Wait. What’s the deal? You’re making DeShaun a third wheel?”

  “Scary stories and root beer, remember? That’s all. No mushy stuff. I just…wanted you to know, that’s all.”

  Dennis slapped Stuart on the shoulder. “Tell DeShaun I said to eat one.”

  Stuart chuckled and pedaled away.

  * * * *

  Deputy Shavers tended the cell door as Hudson carried a steaming cup to Mr. Dukes, adjacent to a cell that housed three other men.

  Darrell “Leechy” Beecham, chronic pickpocket and frequent customer, pressed against the bars between cells. “Hey, will you please put this freako in another cell, officer?” He requested. “He’s givin’ me the jeebs.”

  “Shut it” was Hudson’s response.

  Dukes sat in an upright fetal position against the corner, shivering.

  “Mr. Dukes, I brought you some tea,” Hudson said. “My wife’s brew. Cleansing, she says.”

  “What about me?” asked Leechy.

  “You get to shut your mouth,” Hudson answered.

  Dukes hugged himself in fear, his eyes darting.

  “What is it, Mr. Dukes? What do you see?”

  “It’s…it’s full of…lobsters.”

  Hudson regarded the tiny teacup. “Did you say… lobsters?”

  “Big ones! Oh, God, keep it away!”

  “Damn…” Hudson muttered.

  Hudson set the tea on the floor behind his back. On a hunch, he drew from his pocket the candy Reverend McGlazer had brought to him, loosely rewrapped in its orange-and-black cellophane. “What about this, Mr. Dukes? Have you seen any candy like this? Maybe eaten some?”

  As the wrapping bloomed away from it, new fear brimmed in Dukes’s eyes.

  With no farther to go, Dukes squeezed himself against the wall. “Keep it away! God, it…it sees my last day!”

  Hudson could not know that, to Dukes, the candy was a restless rolling eyeball, its orange iris shuttering around the black pupil pointed right at him.

  Dukes turned sideways, pushing the side of his face into the corner. “It sees my last day!” He swatted at the candy, knocking it across the floor, where it landed at the edge of the separating partition.

  Leechy eyed it.

  “Don’t!” Hudson warned.

  “Okay.” Leechy held up his hands like he was being arrested again. “Wha’ ’bout that tea though?”

  Hudson considered. “Ah, what the hell.”

  He handed the tea through the bars to Darrell. “Now you can go get a job tomorrow.”

  Leechy pumped a dirty thumb into the air. “Sure thing, Officer Friendly!”

  Hudson returned his attention to the trembling Dukes, as he addresse
d Deputy Shavers. “Seems to be less intense now.”

  “Definitely. Whatever he was on, it’s wearing off.”

  Chapter 12

  DeShaun and Stuart took turns bumping one another’s shoulders at the corner where a dusty highway turnoff met Zebulon Street.

  “You sure you know what you’re getting yourself into, man?” DeShaun asked.

  “I just think she’s a cool chick. Is that such a crime, Dad?”

  DeShaun gave a heartier bump. “I’m just saying. Remember when this school year started? We made a deal: no girlfriend drama until next year. One more year to just…”

  “Goof around,” Stuart finished. Stuart turned his hand over to show a tiny scar on his palm, and DeShaun opened his hand to show a matching scar.

  “Yeah,” Stuart continued. “Ma was going on about how this is the first year I won’t be trick-or-treating.”

  “Mine too.”

  “I’m not gonna ditch you, man.” Stuart gave DeShaun a pretty good slug on the thigh. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

  “Same here,” DeShaun said. But he was staring down at the ground. And he didn’t return the playful punch.

  “I like her,” Stuart admitted. He waited to see if DeShaun was going to laugh at him, but he didn’t. “I’m glad you’re here, if that makes any sense.”

  “Is this gonna turn into some weird thing?” DeShaun’s face and voice were dead serious, but Stuart detected the sarcasm. “I’m not into you that way.”

  “Shut up, dude!”

  DeShaun cracked up. Stuart punched him on the shoulder a little harder than usual, and soon the boys had dropped their bikes and were rolling around on the ground, wrestling.

  As always, they began calling their own action, serving as both co-commentators and mortal enemies. “Barcroft’s headlock is clearly too much for the weaker Lott, as you can see, Bob. You can hear the screams of agony,” Stuart announced.

  “I’m afraid you’re mistaken as usual, Mean Gene. Those are gales of laughter. Lott is amused by Barcroft’s jelly-like grasp and is about to turn the tables,” countered DeShaun.

  Eventually, DeShaun wound up on top and applied a claw hold to Stuart’s hyper-ticklish ribs, making his friend squint and squirm and cackle. Glancing up, DeShaun grew still, staring at something in the road. “Ooohh…”

  He stood up straight and dusted himself off. “Here she comes.”

  Stuart popped up and grabbed his bike, trying to position himself on it before Candace got a good look at him acting like a little kid. “Huh? She’s on foot.”

  Candace was walking briskly, like those old folks early in the morning at the mall. There was something urgent about this—but then there was always something urgent about her. “Come on.”

  They took off to meet her, waving like castaways flagging down a helicopter, and soon they were beside her.

  “Hey,” greeted Stuart and hoped he did not seem too excited.

  “Hey,” she echoed, still huffing from the walk.

  “I figured you had a bike.”

  “I don’t mind walking,” she said.

  “Well, um…” He considered the situation. “You can ride mine and I’ll walk.”

  Candace seemed almost panicked. “Can’t I just ride with you?”

  “Well, sure!”

  DeShaun grinned at Stuart, as Candace clambered on behind him.

  “So where is the cemetery?” she asked, as they took off.

  “It’s just behind the big old church.”

  “Stop!” Candace yelled it loud. Stuart thought she was hurt.

  “Huh?” Stuart hit the brakes and dropped his feet like an ace daredevil, but he wasn’t thinking of how cool it was. He was worried about Candace. “What’s wrong?”

  She jumped off the bike and stepped back. “I don’t think I can go.”

  “Why not?” asked Deshaun.

  “I just…” She turned and walked. “I better go home.”

  Stuart stood scratching his head.

  “Well, don’t just sit there, brainiac! Go after her!” urged DeShaun.

  “I don’t know, man. She seemed pretty intense about not going.”

  DeShaun went after her. “I see how it’s gonna be.”

  Stuart watched as DeShaun glided up beside her, gesturing and talking. Soon, she stopped, and soon after that, she turned to walk back. DeShaun waved at him to come meet her.

  * * * *

  Entering the drugstore, Hudson stepped aside for a gaggle of babbling children, bottlenecking the door with their new Halloween costumes.

  He made his way to the back, where pharmacist Charles Plemmons gave a prescription package and an enthusiastic “Happy Halloween!” to a customer from the raised enclosure of the pharmacy.

  “Ho there, Hudson,” Charlie called.

  “Good afternoon, Charles.”

  “You need a scrip?” Charlie leaned on the elevated counter. “Big strong guy like you?”

  “Actually, I was wondering if you could take a look at something for me. Possibly evidence.”

  “Oh? Official police business, eh?”

  “I wouldn’t say official.” He slid the candy to Plemmons, on its loose wrapper.

  “This a joke, Hud?” Charlie lifted it between thumb and forefinger. “It’s just Halloween candy.”

  “No joke.” Hudson’s face gave away how serious—and weary—he was. “I know you’re not set up for this, but I’m hoping you can toss it in your cauldron and see what floats to the top.”

  “Ah, a very seasonal way to put it,” Charlie quipped. “Is this something like that silly old wives’ tale about poison candy?”

  “I damn sure hope that’s all it is.”

  “Well, I’ll be closing up early for parade prep. But maybe I’ll get a minute before I leave.”

  “I appreciate it, Charles. And, uh, just you and me, okay?”

  “Ooh! Secret agent stuff! All righty then!”

  Bats fluttered around the streetlight above his cruiser, casting quick shadows across his face. These shadows, like his hunch about the candy, made Hudson feel uneasy for reasons he couldn’t explain.

  * * * *

  Stuart and DeShaun took several steps into the freshly mown churchyard and turned to Candace.

  “See?” Stuart spread his arms. “The church is like a whole football field away.”

  Candace took a few furtive steps.

  “All the really old graves are on this end anyway,” said DeShaun, motioning toward a patch of stones more white than gray.

  “Are you okay?” Stuart asked.

  “Yeah.” Candace hugged her arms against her chest. “Sorry, guys. Churches just kind of weird me out.”

  “You haven’t met Reverend McGlazer?” DeShaun asked. “He’s really nice. Not all yelly or anything like that.”

  “Haven’t met much of anybody since we got here,” she explained, still on her guard.

  “Where were you living before?” Stuart asked.

  “Hm.” Candace sounded sarcastic. “Which time?”

  “You move a lot?” asked Stuart.

  “Yeah.”

  “Here’s the first one,” said DeShaun as they came to a weathered, crooked grave.

  The boys knelt to take charcoal and paper from their backpacks.

  “Good thing we have plenty of extra tracing paper, eh, Stuart?” DeShaun pronounced.

  “Oh. Yeah, it is,” Stuart enjoined, turning to Candace. “And that’s because we thought you might enjoy making some rubbings as well.”

  Candace took the proffered paper and charcoal. “Okay, yeah.”

  Stuart gave DeShaun a grateful wink.

  “You guys…” Candace gave them an intense kind of smile. “Thanks for inviting me.”

  “Well, sure,” said Stuart, p
ressing his paper against the old grave. “It’s about time you got out to see the great metropolis of Ember Hollow.”

  “Yeah,” DeShaun agreed. “Maybe Stuart can show you some of our town’s other interesting attractions.”

  Stuart shot him a warning glare, even as he said, “Sure, yeah.”

  “I don’t know,” Candace responded. “Maybe.”

  “Are your parents strict?” asked DeShaun.

  “It’s not that so much.”

  Stuart finished and rose. “It’s okay. That’s none of our bees’ wax.” He gave DeShaun a hearty nudge. “Right, DeShaun?”

  “It’s just…my brother…” Candace trailed off.

  Stuart and DeShaun exchanged a look. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

  “He’s…kinda not okay.” Candace was quiet for a long time. “He doesn’t get out much.”

  Candace finished her rubbing and stepped aside for DeShaun.

  Stuart held his rubbing up to compare it to hers. “Wow. You’re a pretty good artist, huh?”

  “I guess it runs in my family,” Candace said.

  They watched DeShaun finish his. “Come on. Next one is down here.”

  “You guys sure know your way around this graveyard.”

  “We’ve lived in Ember Hollow our whole lives,” explained Stuart. “Used to play hide-and-seek here. Easter egg hunts. Stuff like that.”

  “Must be nice,” Candace said.

  “Don’t worry,” DeShaun said. “It won’t take you long to get to know it too.”

  She turned away, looking at the ground.

  “Wait.” Stuart stopped in front of her. “You’re not gonna move again, are you?”

  “Change the subject.” Candace walked around him, leaving him to watch her in bewilderment.

  DeShaun grabbed Stuart’s arm, stage whispering, “You gotta make your move, man!”

  “What about no girlfriend drama?”

  “Screw that!” DeShaun gave him a subtle shove.

  Stuart jogged to catch up to her. “Then you have to be in the parade with us. With me.”

  Candace’s tears welled. “Can we forget about tomorrow for a minute?”

  “Forget? About Hallo-freakin’-ween?”

  “I just wanna think about today right now, okay?”