Don’t worry, angels. I’ll save you. I’ll save all of you.
###
Crispin twirled his cane and poked Pudge in the back playfully. Laughing, Pudge scooted away, dropping an orange Kit-Kat wrapper on the sidewalk. The lower half of his painted face was a smeared patchwork of colors.
“This one.” Lindy pointed to a cottage house with an inflatable black cat sitting on the lawn. Stalks of corn had been tied with twine to the porch posts and rows of wax paper bags with candles in them lined the pathway to the front door.
Crispin patted his pants, making a show of not being able to find the quarter. He wiggled his nose, making his fake mustache move, and waved Pudge closer. Showing empty palms, Crispin reached behind Pudge’s ear and produced the quarter.
“Yaaaaay!” Pudge screamed, shaking his treat bag as he tried to clap.
Crispin balanced the quarter on the tip of his thumb and flicked it toward the moon, watching its somersault winks as it fell again. Snatching it from the air, he flipped it over, checked it, and grinned at Lindy.
“Heads.”
“Heads,” Lindy whispered. Her breath quickened. Her green eyes sparkled. She put her hands together and shut her eyes.
“In Jesus’ name, we shall be washed in the blood of the lamb.”
Lindy reached behind her dress, feeling the comfortable steel weight she’d tucked there. The meat cleaver had been Ma’s. Three blood moons ago, Ma had used it to wash Pa in his blood, show him his sins. And Pa, faithful as he was, had used nothing but his hands to show Ma the way. What a strong man Pa had been. But while they had still been alive, they’d shown them the light. The light of showing the sinner the sin.
She held the cleaver so the moon glinted from its surface.
Crispin let his plastic treat bag fall to the asphalt and walked toward the house.
###
The doorbell rang as Ken pulled two mugs of hot cider from the microwave and set them on the counter. He smiled at the “World’s Greatest Grandpa” scrawled in mock crayon across the side of one of them. He listened for Esther and quickly opened a peanut butter cup and crammed it in his mouth, hiding the wrapper beneath some junk mail in the garbage can.
Diabetes be damned. This is Halloween.
He tied the string for his Dracula cape around his neck and fitted a set of plastic vampire teeth into his mouth. Esther’s sweater was on the back of a kitchen chair and Ken folded it over his arm and grabbed the mugs.
From the front of the house, Ken heard Gizmo barking wildly.
Goddamn mutt, he thought. Then he heard Esther scream.
Ken dropped the mugs of cider and ran.
###
They fell upon Esther like jackals.
Lindy straddled Esther’s chest and sunk the meat cleaver into her exposed throat. The flesh parted and blood sprayed over Lindy’s chest and legs. Leaning forward, Lindy caught some of the spray against her mouth. She clawed her hands and ripped a gold crucifix necklace from Esther’s neck, then stuffed it into the gaping wound.
Crispin held a thick-soled foot on Esther’s left arm, kneeling down as he pushed a knitting needle into her eye. The scarf Esther had been knitting unraveled like entrails beneath him.
Esther released an agonized scream. Her feet shook against the wood floor, beating a rhythm.
Crispin pulled the knitting needle free, angling it as he did, and skewered Esther’s eyeball like a shish-ka-bob. It came loose with a soft sound like a champagne cork being popped, and dripped a trail of yellowish fluid across Esther’s cheek. Crispin held the end of the knitting needle gingerly and tilted the bloody orb toward his mouth.
Sitting cross-legged beside the plastic jack-o-lantern, Pudge held Gizmo tightly in his grip.
“Puppeeee!” He shrieked, and sunk his teeth into the dog’s rear haunch. Gizmo squealed and tried to kick away, but Pudge bit deeper, peeling away a large patch of furred skin to reveal the raw bunched muscles beneath. Rich maroon flooded over Pudge’s chin and neck, catching in pools along his collarbone.
###
Ken paused at the threshold to the living room. He couldn’t understand what he was seeing. Esther must have fallen --
Oh God, tell me she didn’t break her hip.
-- and two kids were trying to help her up.
But the red... why is there so much red everywhere? Even the damn dog is red. Had she dressed him up for Halloween too, for
The little boy holding Gizmo looked up at him and smiled.
“Puppy,” he said, in a tiny voice, and Ken saw the boy’s mouth and chest were a glistening mess of burgundy. The boy turned away and tore another bite from Gizmo’s back.
Ken began to scream.
###
Lindy and Crispin noticed the old man at the same time. Lindy howled and jumped to her feet, and Crispin scrambled after her. He slipped in a pool of Esther’s blood and fell. He laughed, gave another howl to match Lindy’s as she took the lead, scrabbled to his feet and resumed the chase.
###
Ken staggered from the living room and ran into the kitchen.
Oh God, Esther. Sweetheart, oh my God!
As he turned the corner, Ken slid on the linoleum, the puddle of spilled cider slick as an oil patch. The room spun wildly and for one surreal moment, Ken felt himself completely airborne. He landed sideways. His head thumped harshly against the floor and his hip twisted at an awkward angle. A bolt of agony raced up his side. The kitchen shimmered in Ken’s vision and, clutching his busted hip, he rolled over to his back.
The upside down face of a bloody Raggedy Ann stared down at him. She leaned closer and Ken could smell Esther’s blood on her breath. The girl smiled wide and Ken gazed at the face of hell.
“Help me, Jesus.”
“He sent me instead,” the girl whispered, and raised a meat cleaver high above him.
###
Ted’s heart hammered beneath his ribs. He shrugged off his bathrobe and let it fall to the floor. Sweat poured from his body, pooling at the base of his spine and drenching his thin t-shirt.
All saviors must experience pain to purify the soul.
He raised his forearm and dragged the blade across his skin. The pain, fresh and scorching, pulled everything into hyper-focus. The house was silent except for a distant tap-tap of something dripping to the floor.
Ted’s blood created a chrysanthemum blossom at his feet. His mouth tasted bitter. His tongue felt thick and swollen against the roof of his palette. He reached for the bottle of Johnnie Walker and drained it, feeling the alcohol humming in his veins.
###
Pudge pulled the dog collar around his neck and buckled the ends together. His painted face was speckled like a red robin’s egg.
“Cute little puppy.” Lindy ran a finger along the collar’s jeweled length and winked at Pudge. He barked in response.
A good distance away, Lindy could see a group of kids walking toward them. A tall boy was in the lead, wrapped in cream-colored bandages. He nodded at Lindy and whistled loudly.
“Come here little girl. I’ve got some candy for you.”
She could hear the other kids in the group laughing.
“I’ll be your Raggedy Andy!” More laughing.
Lindy put her hands to the meat cleaver tucked at the small of her back, then felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She turned and Crispin shook his head.
As the group got closer, Mummy-boy’s wolfish grin changed. The smell of fresh blood must have hit him first and confusion followed, a mixture of fear and doubt kicking in. He made eye contact with all of them, seeing their glassy-eyed expressions fueled by something other than a handful of candy. His gaze ran over the fresh, wet patterns across Lindy’s clothing and the stains on Pudge’s hands. Pudge licked red from his stubby fingertips.
Crispin put a hand to the rim of his bowler derby and nodded, smirking. The group’s laughter died. Their faces grew pale beneath their garish make-up.
One of the smaller ones in the group tugged at Mummy-boy’s elbow. “Randy?” His voice trembled, sounding small. Scared.
“Another time, big boy.” Lindy put a hand to her mouth and blew a kiss. Her fingers wiped blood away, leaving four pale vertical stripes across her chin, and she offered her award-winning smile.
Mummy-boy’s arms went slack to his sides. He dropped his flashlight. Lindy watched as the bandages wrapped around his legs grew wet with piss. The boy broke into a run and the others tore after him. The little one was half-crying, half-screaming, as he ran down the street.
“Yay for Li’ddy!” Pudge clapped and jumped up and down.
“This one’s next.” Crispin pointed to the house in front of them. It was absent of any Halloween decorations, but the porch light was on. The grass was too long, brushing against their shins as they walked to the front door.
Crispin flipped the quarter high into the air.
Craning his neck, Pudge watched its soaring journey. Lindy’s eyes gleamed as she studied its downward fall.
Crispin cupped it in his palm and slapped it against his arm.
Lindy and Pudge stepped closer and Crispin pulled his hand away.
###
Ted watched them at the front of his house.
“Come on. Come on up here.” He held the knife at his side, slicing his thigh, mindless of the warmth spilling down his leg. He put his hand on the doorknob, and then pulled away, barely controlling himself from running out after them.
They laughed outside as Ted watched them. The boy in the baggy suit tossed a coin into the air and caught it as it fell. They studied the coin and turned in sync toward the house.
Ted’s body suddenly felt electric. His heart labored in his chest as they began walking toward the house.
I’ll protect you, children. I’ll save you from life.
Ted trembled once. Blood slicked his hand and he tightened his grip on the knife.
###
As soon as the door opened, a cold, sick feeling, like she’d swallowed icicles and they had collected in the pit of her stomach, filled Lindy.
For a while, they lived in the house after Momma and Pa had gone with Jesus. When the men showed up knocking at the door, they hid, and when the men eventually broke into the house, they ran, leaving Ma and Pa’s skin costumes where they lay. After that, the three of them moved around wherever they could. House after house. All different. All the same.
They made do with what they had. But God provided, yes He did. Ask and ye shall receive. He brought them men sometimes, unwashed and stinking of the streets, and they were thankful for His graces. They drank of His blood and ate of His flesh. Most of the men never even appeared to be frightened. Like sleeping lambs, they shut their eyes as they were fed upon and embraced death. Lindy could smell it on the men who tried to sneak into their homes. They stunk of sin.
Lindy could smell it on the man who answered the front door too.
He was somehow... wrong.
But Lindy was the only one who noticed. Pudge was still young, as excited about the sweets in his bag as much as he was about the feed. And Crispin, always the guard, was watching the street for any trouble.
The door squeaked open and just as Crispin turned around, the man lunged, grabbing Crispin’s necktie and looping his fist around a length of the material. He jerked him inside the house and tried to slam the door, but he wasn’t fast enough.
Lindy charged forward. Her slender body slipped through the opening. The man hit her with the back of his fist, sending her sprawling across the room. She landed on the coffee table, flipping it on its side.
Pain flared in her nose and lips, and Lindy could taste the brine of her own blood. Pudge latched onto the man’s ankle, biting so hard his eyes were squeezed shut with effort. Pudge jerked his head to the side and peeled open a large flap of skin, exposing the gleam of bones. Screaming, the man kicked Pudge away. His foot caught him in the ribs, sending Pudge sliding across the floor. Pudge squealed in pain and hugged his side.
The man bellowed and turned back to Crispin, grabbing his throat and lifting him from the floor. Crispin’s head thumped against the top of a doorframe, and the man drove his knife into the tender underside of Crispin’s chin. Sharpened steel sunk through bone and cartilage, upward through the palette and bridge of skull between Crispin’s eyes. The blade sunk into the wooden doorframe and Crispin’s body dangled, impaled.
Lindy jumped to her feet, shrieking at the top of her lungs. She lunged and swung the meat cleaver at the same time, catching the man’s spine right above the line of his underwear.
He arched his back and inhaled sharply. His eyes bulged in their sockets and his hands jerked out to balance himself, gripping the sides of the doorframe. He stared up into Crispin’s lifeless face.
Lindy jerked the blade of the meat cleaver free, the sound like a bare foot being pulled from mud. The man exhaled harshly, all his breath leaving him in an urgent rush and his body began to fold backward on itself. The white stumps of his severed spine ground against each other and the top-heavy balance of his torso lost the fight against gravity. As his torso fell backward, the skin of his stomach stretched and bulged against his inner organs and muscles. The cage of his ribs pulled his skin taught. His legs buckled and he fell sideways to the floor. The man released a low moan. His limbs twitched. His eyes rolled wide in their sockets like a frightened dog’s.
Lindy stepped into his line of sight. She ran the length of the cleaver blade against her tongue, then raised it high overhead and buried it into the man’s chest. The pressure made blood and body fluids burst out in a spray of scarlet. She cleaved through the man’s chest, hacking at row after row of ribs to expose the beet-colored pulse of his heart. Lindy reached inside, using the edge of the cleaver to pry it loose from his rib cage. Lindy held the fresh organ in front of her. The front door was still open and in the autumn air, steam rose from his exposed heart. She saw the man’s eyes, filled with terror. Lindy stared back, bit down and shredded away a thick chunk of his heart. Then his eyes stopped moving. His heart stopped beating a moment later. Lindy tore through the stretched arteries still attached to the heart, and wrenched it free.
Crispin’s body, swung gently in the light autumn breeze. Pudge stood by the door, quietly crying. His bag of candy was in one hand, and he held his side with the other.
Lindy dropped the bloody heart to the floor.
Tonight was a night for endings. Tomorrow would be a day for beginnings.
“C’mon Pudge.” Lindy held his hand and together they limped through the front door. With her other hand, Lindy stuffed the cleaver into her waistband.
Red and orange painted the night sky. The harvest moon smiled a bloody smile down upon her.
Lindy smiled right back.
THE END