The Fear Zone 2

by K. R. Alexander

  Caroline nods.

  So does Andres. And even Kyle, who stares at my arm with a haunted expression on his face. The only person who doesn’t nod is April, and she looks horribly lost and horribly afraid because of it.

  I shouldn’t be here.

  I shouldn’t be here.

  I shouldn’t be here.

  Caroline’s dad—who refuses to be called anything but Tim—gets home half an hour after the TV incident. If he notices the broken sculpture, he doesn’t mention it. We’ve done a good job of cleaning it up, and Deshaun is all bandaged and fine.

  The only thing that Tim does comment on is how quiet it is in the house.

  “Don’t you want the TV on or something?” he asks.

  We all shout no in unison, and April hastily scrambles together a lie about how it was because we’d taken a vow not to watch TV all weekend and read instead, as part of a school challenge.

  Nice one, I mouth to her. She smiles a little, but it slips instantly.

  Thankfully, Caroline’s dad (it’s really hard calling him Tim; it’s always weird when adults ask you to call them by their first names) immediately gets to work on dinner, and the house is soon filled with the sounds of sizzling veggies and meat.

  While we wait, he sets out a heaping plate of loaded nachos. It takes all my self-control not to gorge myself on those alone. I have to keep reminding myself there are still tacos. And ice cream. And all that discount Halloween candy. I don’t know how I can be so hungry—maybe being scared for my life makes me feel starved.

  Kyle, however, barely takes a bite.

  Every time I look over to him, my heart aches. I want to go sit by him and tell him it’s going to be okay. I want to be there for him, like Deshaun is for April. They stand next to each other at the kitchen counter, idly talking to Caroline and her dad about school. Every once in a while, Deshaun leans into April, a gentle nudge, like an unconscious reminder that they are there. Together. For each other.

  Kyle sulks on the other side of the kitchen, a plate of maybe three nachos in his hand and a sort of mechanical expression on his face as he nods along to the conversation without even listening. I go stand next to him, but he doesn’t even seem to realize I exist. When I put a hand on his shoulder, he actually shakes it off.

  Fine, then, I think, and head back to stand by the others. They at least include me in the conversation.

  When they’re done, we help ourselves to tacos. I’m grateful that Tim doesn’t force us to have an awkward sit-down family-style meal. Instead, we all stand around or sit at various tables, eating and trying to keep up the strained conversation. I keep thinking about what happens after this; somehow, we have to convince Kyle to go to the graveyard to find Jeremy and the others. A part of me almost feels guilty, like it’s my fault they went missing.

  Maybe if we’d stayed at the carnival longer, we could have prevented them from getting tricked by the clown.

  Maybe if we had actually stuck together, none of this would be happening.

  “How was the carnival?” Tim asks.

  I nearly choke on my taco.

  “It was fun,” Caroline says. She glances at April. “We were actually planning on going back tonight.”

  Kyle jolts and looks up at the group. Finally back to Earth.

  “We were?” he asks.

  “Yeah,” April says. She doesn’t make eye contact when she speaks. Instead, she looks at me, trying to convey the secret message, and even though this is news to me, it finally clicks—this is the cover we’re telling Caroline’s dad so we can leave and check out the graveyard later. I wonder if they plan on telling Kyle the truth, or if they’re going to keep this from him as well. “We were talking about it when you ran back to your place.”

  “I—” Kyle begins.

  “Come on,” Deshaun says. “It’ll be fun.”

  Kyle mumbles something I can’t hear and looks back to his plate. I don’t know if it’s him agreeing or not. I also know he doesn’t really have a choice if we all leave. It’s not like he’d be so grumpy he’d opt to stay here alone. Right?

  While Caroline and the others clean up the plates, I offer to take out the garbage. I roll the garbage can to the curb and head back toward the open garage.

  Halfway there, I get the distinct feeling I’m being watched, and I pause.

  “Have you missed me, Andres?” comes the clown’s voice.

  I turn around and look toward the street.

  The clown stands in the middle of the road, its eyes blackened by diamonds of ink and its face a wicked sneer. It towers at least ten feet tall, its clothing tattered. It looks skeletal, demonic, and more terrifying than ever before.

  It takes a step forward. The concrete under its feet cracks.

  “Because I’ve missed you. I’ve missed all of you. Now we can play together. Now I can bring all my friends.”

  “You … y-y-you’re not real,” I stammer. I try to take a step backward, toward the house, but my feet don’t move. “We’ve defeated you once. We’re going to do it again.”

  The clown tilts its head to the side.

  “Is that what you think?” it asks. Its smile widens. Black tar drips from its teeth. “I’m stronger than ever before, Andres. All because of you. All because you left your friends to me. Their fears were so tasty. And now that I have fed, I can do things you’ve never dreamed of.” It takes another step forward. “When we are done playing, I’ll make you wish you were dead!”

  The clown raises its arms, then explodes into a swarm of bats and rats.

  Instantly, the suburban landscape bursts into flames. The heat sears my face but I can’t move my feet. I’m frozen, staring at the apocalyptic destruction, my breathing so hard and fast it burns worse than the smoldering air.

  From the burning wreckage, blackened skeletons begin to shuffle out, moaning, burning, shambling toward me, as the sky fills with screeching bats and wailing ghosts, plague rats flood the street, and spiders the size of dogs creep from behind cars.

  The rats and spiders scuttle closer. Up the driveway. Toward me. Toward the garage.

  I finally kick into gear, jumping back and slamming the door to the house so loud the floor shakes.

  But not before a giant rat scuttles over the threshold and into the house.

  It races across the kitchen and disappears behind the garbage can.

  “What was that?” Caroline’s dad yelps. He immediately runs over to the garbage can and nudges it aside with his foot, holding a rolling pin like a weapon.

  There’s nothing behind the garbage can.

  “What was that?” he repeats to me, his eyes wide. Everyone else is staring at Tim and me with terrified looks on their faces. “Was that a rat? That was way too big to be a rat. Did you see a rat come in?”

  His voice is frantic, and I can’t answer.

  “Where did it go?” Tim asks. “I’m sure I saw it.”

  “Maybe it was just a shadow, Daddy,” Caroline says consolingly. I catch the tremble in her voice. “Or a leaf.”

  Tim pushes the garbage can farther. But the rat isn’t there, and there’s nowhere it could have gone.

  He looks at me, breathing deep.

  “I hate rats,” he admits.

  I swallow the bile rising in the back of my throat.

  He’s afraid of rats.

  He was able to see what the clown created.

  I look to my friends.

  In the past, it was just us who could see the clown and its monstrous creations. I had always assumed it was only able to target kids. Now an adult has seen something. An adult who has—to our knowledge—never encountered the clown before. Does that mean that Caroline’s dad is also a victim? Or does it mean something more sinister? Something more dire?

  Maybe the clown’s nightmares are no longer confined to the five of us, the ones who’ve seen it, the ones it’s actively hunting.

  Maybe now everyone’s at risk.

  This can’t be real. This can’t be
happening.

  Caroline’s dad scours the house, looking for the rat that we all know isn’t there. At least, not anymore.

  We excuse ourselves to the basement. We tell him we want to stay out of his hair while he searches.

  The truth is, we need to talk. Now.

  “What’s going on?” I demand the moment we’re all downstairs. “Did Caroline’s dad just see what I think he saw?”

  Andres nods slowly. His face is ashen.

  “That’s not possible,” Deshaun says. He’s trying to keep his voice calm and rational, which is what he does when he’s terrified but doesn’t want to show it.

  “Then how do you explain it?” Andres asks. “The clown appeared in the street and said that it could do things we’d never dreamed of. Everything went crazy, and then …” He shudders, clearly suppressing the rest of what happened. “And then I slammed the door right as a rat came in. Your dad saw it, Caroline. The clown was able to reach him.”

  “But how? My dad’s never mentioned the clown. And he’s, well, he’s an adult.”

  Andres shakes his head slowly, disbelief clear on his face. Up until now, we had just sort of assumed that the clown was only after kids. I mean, it had appeared to us. But maybe we had just taken it for granted. Like the thought that the clown was actually gone.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Andres asks. “The clown’s just showing off now. It’s fed. It has more power than it ever did before. It can make nightmares manifest for anyone. Maybe even the whole town.”

  My gut sinks at the thought. The whole town might be in trouble.

  But if Caroline’s dad was able to see the rat, why haven’t I seen anything yet?

  Before I can say anything, Kyle stands up.

  “I thought we promised we weren’t going to talk about this,” he growls.

  “We did, but—” I begin.

  “So now you think it’s okay to just break promises? Is that what being friends means to you?”

  “That’s not what’s going on at all,” Deshaun says, his voice still calm. “Things have changed. This is getting more dangerous than we could have imagined. Everyone could be at risk. We have no idea what the clown—”

  “Enough about the stupid clown!” Kyle yells. “I’m sick of this. There is no clown. There was no rat. You all are just hallucinating because April got this stupid idea stuck in your heads.” He points at my chest. It feels like getting punched in the gut.

  “We’re telling the truth,” I say. “The clown …”

  Kyle steps up to me. And maybe it’s my imagination, but I swear I see a flash of blue in his eyes. My words stop in my throat.

  “Have you seen the clown?” he asks softly. “Tell me the truth, April. Have you seen the clown for yourself? Or anything out of the ordinary beyond that note that may or may not have been left in your drawer as a prank—if you’re telling the truth about not leaving it yourself?”

  My mouth drops open.

  Words are knotted in my chest and my breath burns and I feel my face flush because the truth is, no, I haven’t seen anything. Just the note.

  “Exactly,” he says, taking my silence for confirmation. He stands and looks to everyone. “You’re all just letting this go to your heads. The clown isn’t back. It’s gone. Dead. Buried.”

  “But Jeremy and the others—”

  “Probably just ran away,” Kyle says, interrupting Deshaun. “Or maybe they joined the carnival. Kids play pranks like that all the time.” He looks at me. “Isn’t that right, April?”

  “I—”

  “This is all just a prank of yours. Because you felt bad that we were all growing apart. Well, reality check, that’s just what happens. We grow up. We grow apart. It’s not like we ever had anything in common anyway, just that stupid clown. And guess what. The clown is gone. And so is our only reason for hanging out.”

  He stomps over and grabs his bag.

  “Where are you going?” Andres asks, standing as if to intercept him.

  “Home,” Kyle growls. “Away from all of this nonsense.” He glowers at Andres. “I know she’s your friend, but I would have thought that you of all people would have had my back.”

  Before any of us can say anything, he thunders up the stairs.

  Andres steps forward, but Deshaun reaches out and holds him back as we hear the door slam upstairs.

  “Let him go,” Deshaun says sadly. “He needs some time to cool off.”

  We stand in silence, staring at the space Kyle just occupied.

  Letting him go feels wrong. So wrong. The clown is out there. The clown has clearly already gotten to him. I hate to think what other horrors the clown might have in store for him, especially if he’s out on his own. But Deshaun knows him better than any of us do—even Andres—and if he says we should let him go, we’ll listen.

  Deshaun comes over and takes my hand. It’s only when he does so that I realize I’m shaking.

  “It’s okay,” he says soothingly. “He didn’t mean those things.”

  “He did,” I reply. “What if he’s right? What if this is all just our imaginations or something?”

  “I know what I saw,” Andres says. “And felt. I’ve already been buried in quicksand and attacked by spiders. I don’t even want to think about what might come next.”

  “And I’ve seen zombies,” says Caroline. She touches her cheek, where the faintest impression of a scratch still lingers. “They were real.”

  “And I’ve seen the clown itself,” Deshaun finishes. “There’s no way it’s just our imaginations. Jeremy and the others are missing, and we have every reason to believe the clown took them. They need our help. Heck, if the clown is powerful enough to make even Caroline’s dad see something, the whole town needs our help.”

  “But what do we do?” I ask. Tears form in my eyes, and I feel like I’m just repeating myself, but I still can’t find a way around it. “We only defeated the clown when we were together. And even then it didn’t last.”

  Deshaun nods.

  “We had already planned on going to the graveyard,” he says. “I think that’s the best option. Maybe there are more clues there. Or maybe we can drop by the carnival and ask around—I’m sure someone must have seen something.”

  “But what about Kyle?” Andres asks. “We can’t just leave him out there by himself. Who knows what will happen?”

  “I know,” Deshaun says. He looks to his feet. “But I think if we follow, he’ll just push us away more. My parents are home; they’ll watch after him.”

  I know him well enough to know when he’s lying; he’s more worried about Kyle than he wants us to believe. Kyle is basically his brother. I know Deshaun feels responsible for him.

  “Look at it this way,” Deshaun continues, and I think he might just be explaining it aloud to himself, hoping it will make him feel better. “We know we need to stick together, and right now, we need hard evidence to prove to Kyle that this is really happening. He’s scared, but he’s not stupid. If we bring him something he can’t deny is real, we might have a chance.”

  “But what if there isn’t any evidence?” I ask.

  “Either way, we’ll know. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about the clown, it’s that it is far from discreet. It wants to be seen. It wants us to be scared.”

  He’s right. The clown gets its strength from making us scared, from showing us our deepest nightmares. It doesn’t want to hide.

  Which begs the question … why hasn’t it shown itself to me?

  I can’t believe them.

  I trusted them.

  I trusted them.

  But they won’t shut up about the stupid clown. They won’t stop pretending it’s back. I know it isn’t back. Because I’m not going back. I’m not going—

  I’m back.

  I stand outside my house. My old house. My real house?

  It towers above me. The porch light is on.

  The basement lights are on.

  I pause on the other side
of the street.

  Pumpkins line the sidewalk leading to the porch, lights flickering within. The ghost swaying in the breeze glows pale blue. I know the pumpkins weren’t there before, and a small, distant part of me knows they shouldn’t be there now, but the rest wants to believe my mom put them out. That she knew I’d be walking by. That this was her way of reaching out and letting me know she was okay. That it was okay: I could come home.

  I cross the street.

  Every step toward my house, and the air grows colder.

  Every step toward my house, and I can make out the faces carved in the pumpkins.

  Kids. The missing kids. My body shakes as I examine each one in turn, their intricate expressions pulling me even closer.

  The first is Jeremy’s little brother, looking at me with concern clear on his face.

  Then the girl with pigtails and braces.

  Then the twins.

  Then Jeremy.

  The moment I near, his face moves.

  His mouth opens in a silent plea:

  HELP!

  The front door opens. Snakes slither down the steps, coil around my feet.

  I look up.

  I see my father, standing in the shadows and sharp lines of light.

  My father, with glowing blue eyes.

  My father, dressed as the clown.

  “I still don’t think we should let him wander alone,” April says beside me. “It isn’t safe.”

  I squeeze her hand. We’re almost at the graveyard. If anyone doesn’t feel safe right now, it’s me. Us.

  “Kyle will be fine,” I say for the hundredth time. I’m definitely still trying to reassure myself. “I’ll text my parents when we’re back at Caroline’s to make sure he got home okay.”

  “But what if he doesn’t make it? What if the clown gets him?”

  “It won’t,” Andres says. “Kyle’s a lot tougher than we give him credit for. If the clown does try to get him, I’d be more worried about the clown.”

  “That’s not funny,” April whispers, so soft only I can hear it.