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‘Hello again, everyone! Hope your New Years celebrations were great and went without a hitch,’ Yuki says, once again welcoming you into her home-slash-laboratory. ‘We managed to snag an interesting subject in the Void for you this time.’

‘Woah, getting right into it, are we?’ her assistant says.

Yuki shrugs. ‘What about it? There’s nothing exactly to report. No anomalies detected. No one trying to breach our plane of existence.’

The assistant slaps his palm to his forehead and groans. ‘Have you forgotten about the eggs already? The ones I took my sweet time to hide?

‘Oh! Right!’ Yuki replies and clears her throat, a mild blush appears across her cheeks. ‘Happy Easter everyone! After our excursion today, there’ll be an egg hunt and all kinds of treats for you all!’

The assistant mutters to himself, ‘We really gotta stop planning these things around the holidays…’

‘It’s only a coincidence and you know that!’ She addresses her attendees again, ‘Now, tonight’s tale concerns a young boy and his cousin. They spend their summers at their grandpa’s home in rural Virginia. Things have gone swimmingly for years…until recently. I call this tale:

***

Ten seconds were down until the final bell of the sixth grade year at Stephen Bishop Middle School. Damien Chambers’ eyes focused on the thin red hand gliding along the old clock face. He dropped out of the final conversation he and his friends would have for the next few months. A couple of his classmates were planning on things to do over the break. Although he and the fellow members of their group lived only a few streets apart, their plans wouldn’t have been relevant to him—not for the summer anyway.

The bell rang and a couple dozen chairs skidded a few inches as their occupants cheered and picked up their binders and backpacks. Most of the students would not even think of the school for the next nine weeks. Only when the parents had noticed the school tacked up the student information sheets at the front door would the children be forced to face the prospects of the new school year.

For Damien, though, it was a little different.

“When you heading out? Tonight?” someone called out to him in the rush out to the school buses (he was pretty sure it was Chris).

He called back, not brave enough to turn opposite of the great middle-schooler stampede, “Tomorrow morning—I think about seven.”

Laughter erupted behind him. “Have fun getting up early again!”

“Yeah,” another voice taunted, “I think I’ll stay in bed ‘til, like, ten or eleven!”

Damien fired back, “Oh yeah, big bummer, one more early morning and then a couple months of swimming in the lakes and rivers—how ever will I survive?”

“Aww, fuck you then!”

Damien threw up two middle fingers without looking back. They all laughed this time.

#

When the bus shuddered to a stop some twenty minutes later atop Neptune Avenue, Damien hopped up from his seat and bounded toward his home. His mom and dad were out front—Mom was watering the garden bed under the windows of the trailer and Dad was dropping two suitcases in the trunk of the Pinto and closed the hatch.

“Hey, bud! Good last day?”

“Yeah! Movies and a pizza party!”

His dad whistled. “Damn, lucky you! I wish I had teachers like that when I was in school…better than a bunch of slap-happy nuns, that’s for sure. I was only able to get drive-thru at McDonald’s today.”

“Aww…I woulda liked that better!”

Arthur Chambers laughed. “I know you would have; that’s why I said it. You got your bags packed?”

“…Mostly.”

“Okay,” his dad sighed. “Just be sure to have everything you need by the front door and ready to go before bed.

“Alright.”

“Now, go say ‘hi’ to your mom.”

Damien did as he was told and ran off to the house.

#

“Happy Summer Vacation!” Monica Chambers exclaimed, words full of cheer. She handed over a bag from Everett’s Bakery to her son.

“Yes!” Damien exclaimed and took the bag and hugged her. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome. Glad to be out?”

“Oh yeah,” he replied. He set the bag down on the dinner table and removed the Spider-Man backpack slung over his shoulder. Without another word he unzipped the red pack and pulled out his Trapper-Keeper, folders, notebooks, and all the other knick-knacks stowed away in his locker for the previous nine months.

“First year of middle school a success then?”

“Mm-hmm,” he responded with a smile. The autumn dance sucked hard, though he didn’t acknowledge this aloud.

His mother tussled his hair. “You’ll be moved further up the hall next year,” she said.

Damien reflected on that a moment as he turned his attention to the sweets bag with three smiley-faced cookies inside (a tradition since the year he completed kindergarten). His mom had gone to the same elementary and middle school he’d been enrolled while his dad’s family still lived out west (the music teacher, Miss Bernard, taught the same class when she was there). And in a couple more years he’d be attending the same high school his parents met.

Damien watched as his mother took his backpack and put it at the top of the living room closet, which always amused him—later that August, like clockwork, she would end up buying a new one in the midst of all the back-to-school shopping. It would be waiting for him on his bed with a pile of new clothes and a plethora of folders, pencils, and notebooks.

“You gonna say ‘bye’ to your friends?”

“Already did,” he lied with a mouthful of cookie, sending a spray of crumbs down to his feet. Although he was friendly and played with the other kids on the street, he wasn’t that close to them. He bonded more with his classmates, most of which he’d known (and almost constantly shared desk space with) since the first grade. Personally, he did not feel that he fit as snug into the neighborhood kid group. Damien was just kind of there, of no real consequence, just a background character in a way. Their games and adventures would carry on with or without him. He hung out with them at the bus stop in the mornings and chatted them up on the bus rides to and from school. In the afternoons and weekends he would play with them in the free time before he had to start on homework.

It made him a little sad at times, but he didn’t dwell on it that often. Besides, he got to spend the summer with his grandpa and his cousin, Olivia (lucky for her, she only lived two towns over from the Crowley’s Point, Virginia vacation spot). And while he always looked forward to spending the summer away…this year he seemed really keen on the idea. Why that was exactly beat the hell out of him.

II

Damien was barely awake when he put on his shorts and shoes and trudged out to the car. Goosebumps formed across his arms and legs the second his bare skin made contact with the chilled pre-dawn air. The front yard sparkled with dew and all was silent with the exception of a mourning dove somewhere in the woods behind their trailer. A dog down on Jupiter Drive decided to answer the bird’s challenge to keep peaceful morning from being totally quiet. As soon as Damien buckled himself in and settled under a blanket his dad brought out to him, he was ready to continue his sleep. The last thing he saw before waking to a sun-filled sky were the high beams of the of the Ford cutting through the fog and all the trees that closed of their little neighborhood from the rest of the world.

When Damien’s eyes fluttered open, his head was bobbling atop his left shoulder. He averted his gaze from the sun and looked into the front of the car. His dad was tuning the radio knob, trying to find a station hidden somewhere in the static field while his mom finished eating one of the ham and cheese sandwiches prepped for their trip.

“Mornin’ sleepyhead,” Monica chimed, sensing his movement in the back. “We’ve already had our snacks, did you want a sandwich and some chips?”

“Mhmm,” came his reply as he stretched and yawned.

“Didn’t know it was so tiring watching movies and having pizza for seven hours,” his dad ribbed.

Damien only gave a non-committal grunt and a smile as he opened the Ziploc bag that was handed to him. He looked out the window, watching the trees and fields stream on by. “Where we at?” he asked and took a couple bites out of the cold sandwich.

“We went through Charleston not long before you woke up. We’re just passing Cabin Creek now,” his dad answered.

“About halfway there,” his mom clarified, seeing Damien’s confusion in the rearview mirror. She consulted the map that had been resting between the front seats. “Maybe…four-and-a-half hours with a pit stop and a zip into a Burger King or Arby’s.”

Damien handed back the empty Ziploc and popped open the small Lay’s bag and powered through the potato chips.

The remaining hours passed on, nothing of real significance happening. They stopped to fill the tank and stretch their legs about an hour after his snack and got drive-thru at Burger King close to an hour after that. His mother tried her hand at a couple of unsuccessful naps, failing to get comfortable each time. His dad sought a radio station every time the car dipped into a valley—when that failed, he put in a cassette of road trip tunes until he was sure they were in a position of good reception. Damien was determined to read through every page of the CRACKED magazine he brought along, but kept getting distracted by the passing scenery.

As the digital clock flipped to 3:20, the Pinto rolled onto a long gravel driveway. Grandpa Roberts sat out on his patio, cigarillo clenched between his teeth. A puff of smoke obscured his face and wafted upward, revealing his lined and smiling face. Olivia was standing out on the front lawn near the intended parking spot, literally bouncing up an down with excitement.

The second the handbrake was set, Damien threw open the car door and hopped out onto the gravel—mostly to relieve his cramped legs and take some pressure off his bladder (which Olivia took entirely for excitement to see her).

“Hey Livia, how’s it going?” Damien managed to smile despite the pins and needles pain.

“Going great! You’re just in time. The room’s set up and ready to go!”

“Oh wow, I thought I was the only one bored today.”

“I wasn’t bored,” Olivia said with a pout. “I’ve been excited all week for today—school didn’t wanna end!”

“I know, I know, you dork. I was joking…kinda. The trip out here was long.”

“Yeah? Well, I still want to show you all the stuff—Hi Monica! Hi Arthur!” Olivia quickly turned her attention from her cousin to her aunt and uncle, positively beaming as they brought themselves over (both getting the cramps out of their own legs).

“Hey, Olivia!” Damien’s parents chimed in unison.

“She’s been waiting day and night for you to get here,” Grandpa Roberts called from the patio. “Been fretting about the state of the place all mornin’ an’ afternoon.”

Olivia blushed and shook her head. “It wasn’t that bad—I swear!”

The adults laughed heartily.

Damien picked out one of his bags from the car and lugged it up to the house, he turned to his cousin, “C’mon, show me what you got goin’ on in here.”

He dropped his bag at his side and hugged his grandpa and exchanged a quick hello before Olivia took his hand and pulled him across the threshold—it had been almost a whole year since that last happened.

Everything in the big open living room was the same as the last summer—nothing at all had changed. The newest thing in the room was the family portrait of Damien and his parents taken five years ago from the photo studio at the mall in Hidden Knoll.

Both of his parents pulled up lawn chairs to his grandpa and the adults started to catch up.

Per the norm, Damien’s parents had a spot in the family room and would be using the sofa bed, while the kids would occupy the (marginally) larger bedroom, bunk bed ready to go. This was actually the newest thing in the house—never even had a trial run (Olivia refused to try it out first and slept on the living room couch instead). The bunks were bought at the tail end of the last summer and put together by Grandpa Roberts. The kids picked it out for themselves as Damien’s and Olivia’s parents forked over the cash.

There had been some quiet (overheard) conversation between the sets of parents regarding the sleeping arrangements for all future stays—something about them being too old to be sharing the same bed (which made Damien’s face burn at the implications, like, what the hell!?). The actual proposal to the kids was much more watered down and rehearsed when the grown-ups propositioned the pair. Allegedly, it was so they could ‘spread out more’ and ‘give each other space’ if necessary. It all went over Olivia’s head, who was all doe-eyed and nodding and all-around excited to pick out the new bed.

The set they picked out was a thick maple frame with very forgiving mattresses. As a bonus, they even got to pick their own comforter set and pillows. Olivia went with almost a tie-dye pastel color set and Damien had no trouble at all choosing the outer space set with all the planets of the solar system. All was set up and good to go—with some sprucing up by Olivia.

She made a killer fort that’s for sure, Damien thought as his eyes wandered around the room. The top posts of the bed had sheets knotted around them, the fabric was stretched out to the side, held up by a pair of coat racks that normally collected dust in the basement. A strand of Christmas lights gave the interior of the makeshift tent a festive atmosphere (and, y’know, enough light to see inside the space). Also inside the tent: enough blankets laid out to make the hardwood floor a little warmer and a lot cozier to sit on; comics books were stacked neatly to one side; the portable black and white TV so they could quietly watch all the late-night programming they wanted; two large bowls sat dead center with two bags of Blockbuster microwave popcorn.

“Holy crap!” Damien exclaimed as he browsed the interior. “This looks great. Awesome work, man!”

“Thank you,” Olivia replied, taking an exaggerated bow. They laughed and stood in silence for a beat before Olivia crossed her arms and appraised her own handiwork and nodded. “Can you believe they thought we were gonna ‘do it’?”

III

Once the car was unloaded and the bags were unpacked, Damien and his parents and Olivia joined Grandpa Roberts out in the back yard. He had a pitcher of sweet tea from the fridge and poured everyone a cup and proceeded to give them a small tour of the property. The house may not have been updated in a number of years, but there had been significant landscaping and projects over the past several months. In years prior, the normal extent of Grandpa Roberts’ work boiled down to mowing on Sunday mornings and watering the grass and plants throughout the week when needed.

Once the ground thawed in the spring, Grandpa Roberts explained, he dug up portions of the massive side yard that spread out on the left side of the house and put in some apple and pear trees. In the smaller section just behind his home, an area that was rarely trodden upon—even by a pair of rowdy kids—now had promising crops sprouting from the dirt. Carrots, potatoes, and tomatoes had individual sections, each sequestered with planks of wood, they took up roughly half the total garden beds, the other sections were dominated by a variety of flowers. Between each of the patches, a stone footpath was carefully laid out.

“Had a lot of time on your hands, Dad?” Arthur chuckled.

“Yup. And that’s fine, gives me something to do. Damn near getting cabin fever every winter—seems like it’s only gettin’ worse. I was snowed-in almost every day of January and February.”

They all leaned in and had close look at all the crops, after which Grandpa Roberts led them further down the path. The steps led them downhill, directly behind the house. Newly- planted shrubs hid his pièce de résistance: a massive koi pond the size of a swimming pool.

“Awesome!” Damien ran up, followed by Olivia at a slower pace (she and her parents had seen the progress over the previous weeks). The kids got down on their hands and knees and watched all the fish zip around at their presence. The orange and white blurs darted beneath the lily pads and cattails.

“Yeah, the guys that dig up the grave sites helped me out with this,” Grandpa Roberts explained. “The rocks all along the edge of the pond and the ones for the footpath,” his hand gestured all around and behind them, “all came from the creek beds out in the woods.”

“You weren’t kidding about keeping busy,” Monica observed. “Home Depot must love you.”

“Nah, only went there for the pond lining and the air filter. Nathan’s Lumber and Camilla’s Garden Center got the rest of my money.”

“Speaking of which, Dad…” Arthur started and trailed off.

“Ah, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. We’re running low on space for plots, but there’s plenty saved away.” Grandpa Roberts walked up to his grandkids and knelt beside them. “Once that last plot is filled, I can officially retire.” He turned to his grandson, “Still willing to help with the upkeep of the cemetery?”

Damien nodded. “For sure!”

Grandpa Roberts turned to his granddaughter. “How about you? Twice as much ground could be covered with you helping out.”

Olivia was silent. Damien looked over to her, from the look on her face, specifically around her eyes, she appeared to be somewhat nervous—definitely hesitant. She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came. Her brows furrowed and she tried to articulate.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to go up there if it’s too scary,” Grandpa laughed heartily. “You can help the old man with the gardens and koi pond—”

“I’m not scared,” Olivia interrupted, indignation embedded deep in the words.

This only caused Grandpa Roberts to get a couple more belly laughs. “Okay, okay. No offense meant. You don’t have to do it is all I’m saying.”

She cast a glance toward Damien, met his eyes for the briefest of moments and faced her grandpa. “No, I want to. I’ll help him.”

“Alright then! You’ll be paid, just like Damien, on Fridays, and you can do what you want with the money. Okay?”

Olivia nodded.

He turned to Damien. “I think I can trust you to show her the ropes up there.”

Damien saluted in response.

“Good boy. Now, seeing as you two had school this week, you won’t have to start with help until Monday.”

“Woo-hoo!”

“Awesome!”

“C’mon,” Damien said, standing up and brushing some dirt from his knees, “Let’s go up there and I’ll show you all the stuff.” He extended his hand, which she took and hoisted herself onto her feet and the two booked it straight to the graveyard.

#

“I know what to do,” Olivia replied, crossing the gates to the land of the deceased. “I’ve watched you do it a thousand times before.”

“Yeah, I know,” Damien said, looking around, making sure they were out of earshot of anyone, even visitors to the cemetery. “What was that about?”

“What?”

“You looked scared when Grandpa asked if you wanted to work up here with me.”

“I…don’t want what happened last year to happen again…”

“I was out in the sun too long,” Damien sighed and rolled his eyes. “I was hot and dehydrated. I rested a few days and got better. No biggie.”

“It was, too, a biggie,” Olivia shot back, raising her voice. “Don’t you remember what happened after that?”

Damien stared at her blankly.

“Holy crap…you don’t remember.”

IV

Last summer, the first working Monday came abruptly after a night of no dreams. The early sunlight threatened to force Damien’s eyes open, but the young boy’s swelling bladder beat it to the punch. Eyelids heavy, he crawled down the mattress, somehow mindful of his sleeping cousin, and staggered out of the room.

He shuddered and yawned as he relieved himself. The scent of coffee and bacon slowly registered, followed closely by the dewy grass just outside the half-open window. Another yawn and he shook the cobwebs loose, properly waking up before flushing and washing his hands.

Two plates featuring a quick breakfast (eggs, bacon, and toast) sat on the table; a cup of coffee sitting in front of Grandpa and a cup of tea in a spot for him. Steam rose from both the plates and the mugs, a gentle bud of warmth emanating from them in an otherwise chilled room.

“Morning Damien.”

“Mornin’ Grandpa.”

“What section you got today?”

Damien yawned again and took a bite of toast and thought about that. “Section three—maybe. The graves around the mausoleum need washing and there might be a bunch of crap from the storm on Saturday.”

His grandpa nodded and picked off the bacon. “I’ll be up there in the afternoon to mow, so wander the grounds too and get all the big branches and twigs outta the way.”

“Okay.”

“How late you stay up last night?”

“Not long. Stupid baseball was on.”

Grandpa Roberts chuckled and sipped his coffee. “At least you weren’t watching scary movies again. Electricity costs money, especially when lights stay on all night.”

“She’s not that much of a fraidy cat. Last time she started to get scared she started paying attention to her video games and fell asleep playing her GameBoy.”

“Hmm…Double-A’s cost money too.”

#

An hour and a half later, Damien was in the middle of scrubbing the headstones outside of the aforementioned mausoleum. It was damn near the edge of the graveyard, closest to the house and visible from the living room windows on the clearest of nights.

Crowley’s Point Cemetery was technically part of the side yard, running all the way back to 1913, when the original resting place for the townsfolk filled to capacity. It hadn’t been an issue through the late 1700s and the length of the following century, but homes and businesses went up as they are wont to do with an ever-increasing population. Damien and Olivia’s great, great grandfather allotted more than half of the square acreage of the existing property at the time. The original homestead still sits within the the walls of the cemetery (the iron spires went up when Grandpa Roberts built the current house in 1967).

Damien wiped at the hair plastered to his forehead. The sun hadn’t been up long, but it was beating down like unholy hell, and was glad he started on the scrubbing earlier than normal. There was a real chance that he’d be finished well before lunch—even with twig-collecting duty. He tilted his head and cracked his neck, getting a whiff of his pits and punched himself mentally. He’d forgotten to put on his deodorant and would be aware of that for the rest of the damned morning.

Oh well, he thought, not like I’m here trying to impress anyone. He was definitely going to have a good swim a little later on with Olivia.

Satisfied that his neck and back offered no more pops, Damien dunked the washrag in his bucket and went back to scrubbing, Quickly, he finished the headstone he’d taken a break on and powered through four more when a strange pang hit him right in the gut. He winced and stopped what he was doing, idly rubbing a spot to the right of his navel. It was weird—like a stitch in the side after running too hard in gym class. It was a minor annoyance at first. Within seconds his whole body went cold, like a bed sheet damp with ice-water wrapped tight around his frame. A sudden bout of nausea overcame him and he dropped down to his knees, retching. Tears and snot dribbled down his face as his breakfast came up. Damien heaved again…and again…and again until all that came out was spit and air. His head ached now. Throbbing. He wanted to claw out his eyes to get whatever the fuck was back there and out of his fucking face. Damien closed his eyes and sobbed.

What the hell was happening? He was fine a minute ago and now so many parts of his body ached. He was scared and sat down at the grave for who-knows-how-long. When the pain started to fade (fading being a term used very loosely here), Damien tried to bring himself to his feet. His skinny legs shook and struggled to keep upright.

Chores long forgotten, the boy stumbled his way between the graves and found the metal bars of the gate with blurred and double vision. His knees knocked while making his way down the gravekeeper steps to his grandpa’s house. Bed. He wanted to be in bed, wrapped up in blankets, all light extinguished, and complete silence from the world around him. That was the only thing on the elementary schooler’s mind. Bed. Now.

Halfway down, awfully distant, he heard Olivia’s voice.

“You’re finished early! Wanna go…Dami?”

She was there…she was somewhere. Sound was starting to get fuzzy. Damien tried to form the words and perhaps said something in reply, but he wasn’t sure at all what that might have been. Hearing was gone. Vision was nil. Everything around him was fuzzy. He felt his mouth moving, like his lower jaw was descending and dropping off of his face. He felt a faint vibration coming from his throat.

And all at once, his senses came back and and surged into his brain, overloaded, and popped the circuit breaker. His foot missed the last step when everything went on the fritz and his body went crashing to the grass below.

He saw Olivia running away—back to the house, probably.

“Grandpa! Grandpa! Damien’s sick! Grandpa!”

The world went black.

V

“Okay, you remembered that part…but you don’t know what happened after all that?” Olivia asked, color still drained from her face.

“No…should I have?”

“You talked in your sleep—a lot.”

Damien rolled his eyes and smiled. “Of course I wouldn’t remember stuff like that. You can’t always remember your scary dreams right? And you know you had them.”

Olivia kept her concerned eyes locked on to him.

He sighed and continued, “People talk in their sleep. My dad mumbles to himself.” Damien gestured to her. “You’ve even said some weird things in the middle of the night.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve heard you when you zonk out before me,” Olivia paused, trying to find the proper words, “When you were sick it didn’t sound like you. You’ve said gibberish plenty of times…but this was like, I dunno, another language I guess. I recognized some actual words somewhere in there, like it kinda faded in and out. And then there were other…sounds. They scared me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to at first. You got better and didn’t talk like that again, so I didn’t bring it up. I mostly forgot about it ‘til now.”

“What kinda things did I say?”

“It didn’t sound like you…like, you were talking, but it wasn’t your voice. At first it sounded like a baby trying to say something and some actual words came out.”

Olivia was starting to repeat herself, speeding up with a panicky tremor. Instead of trying to calm her down, Damien grew frustrated. “Like what?” he said sharply.

“Like: ‘Gotta run’, and ‘they’re everywhere…schools’. You started mumbling and then started up with the gibberish again, but it went on for, like, ten or fifteen seconds. You were really starting to get upset. A couple more words came through, like: ‘ghosts’, and ‘school’ again, and ‘Hidden Knoll’.”

“That it?”

“No, there was more…I don’t remember it all—but that’s the one I remember the most.”

“It’s okay. That’s fine.” But it wasn’t. An awful feeling swelled in Damien’s gut.

“Okay,” Olivia repeated, unsure herself.

“Don’t worry, I was sick—that’s all. I got better.”

“Yeah.”

His cousin still looked wary to him. “Wait…do you think that it has something to do with the graveyard?” Damien did his best to suppress a grin.

“N-no,” Olivia trailed off and blushed (finally, some color coming to the poor girl’s face). “Not really.”

“They’re just movies, Livia—nothing more,” Damien said, parroting his own mother. When he was in the first grade he insisted on sitting in on movies with his parents while they were trying to watch Jaws or The Shining. Both had almost scared the piss out of him. Damien put his arm around her shoulders and gave it a squeeze. “Besides, I’ll be with you the whole time and it’ll be in the morning. No ghosts or monsters ever attack in the daylight—if you believe in that sorta stuff.”

“Are you sure you’ve been okay?”

“I mean, I was sick a few times during fall and winter. Nothing strange there. And I haven’t felt any different either… does that make you feel any better?”

Olivia nodded.

To make her feel a little better, he added: “And let me know if you hear that weird voice again or if I start talking nonsense, okay? I got your back up here and you got mine down there?” Damien tilted his head toward their grandpa’s house.

Olivia managed a smile and nodded again. “Okay.”

“Hey, I think we got time, wanna go for a swim?”

The younger girl’s eyes lit up. “Yeah!”

“Alright then, let’s go!”

Damien took his arm from around his cousin and raced her around the back of the house. He shouted out to his parents, “We’re going back to the woods! Be back soon!”

“Okay!” came his mom’s voice, “Dinner’s at 5:30!”

He checked his watch, still sprinting. “‘Kay!”

The pair zigzagged around the trees and the bushes, trying to stay ahead of the other. When they reached the clearing, neither paid attention to who crossed the threshold first. That suddenly wasn’t important. Crowley Falls Creek was the same as it always was—maybe a bit higher from the rain from this past spring. The creek water was clear, calm, and (the best part) isolated. No asshole high schoolers, no shelling out hard-earned cash to enter, no adult swim to break up their fun, and, thanks to the trees, they were not always stuck in the sunlight. Umbrellas were not always available when visiting the local Y.

The best part, at least for Damien? Rebellion. Rebellion against all the adults’ insinuations. The pair found a spot and took off their clothes. Their shoes and socks stayed on the bank and they carried their folded shirts and shorts to an upended tree on a hill that rested five feet over the water. The length of the trunk spanned the width of the creek bed, a natural bridge to the other side. An opening in the canopy ensured a sizable portion of the swimming area and the fallen tree was exposed to direct sunlight. The heated clothes helped them keep warm when their damp bodies trudged through the shade back to the house. They set their clothes down and let them bake against the timber and cannonballed into the cold drink.

VI

After an evening spent feasting, Damien and Olivia were ready to throw in the towel for family time. They worked up an appetite spending a couple hours swimming in the secluded creek and running around the clearing. The conversations between the adults started to lull them to an early sleep.

First full day of vacation, Damien thought, like hell I’ll go to bed before nine! He shut the bedroom door behind them while Olivia hunkered down into the fort and switched on the portable tube. She flipped to the proper channel and fine-tuned the antenna.

“Had the stupid thing set earlier,” she grumbled under her breath. Her laser focus paid off when the colorless pictured sharpened and stopped rolling vertically. “Aww! We missed the first part!”

Damien crawled to her side and looked at the screen as an old bearded man walked his hound dog through the woods while carrying a hunting rifle—very much looking like a hillbilly from the 1800s…somewhere in the frontier times, like he’d studied in American History.

They’d seen this episode of The Twilight Zone before.

“Shh,” Damien chided. “There’s another one after this. We can play games after that if nothing else is on.” His cousin huffed and wrangled a pillow to rest under her chin as she settled in to watch. And, despite valiant efforts, the pair drifted to sleep before the end credits of the second episode. Neither of them knew about it, but Damien’s mother came to check on them following an hour of unusual silence, tucked the two under a spare blanket, and flipped the lights out. It was a peaceful scene that went unquestioned by the kids when they woke the next morning.

During the hours leading up to the cousins rising for breakfast, the scenes playing out in Damien’s mind were the exact opposite of the atmosphere within the kids’ fort. Nightmares plagued the young boy’s normally placid dreamscape. He tossed and turned and kicked throughout the witching hours. All went unnoticed by Olivia, separated by half a yard of physical space and a thick brick wall between her unconsciousness and the real world.

VII

One minute, Damien was drowsily watching the second episode of the Zone and the next his eyes did not feel as heavy as they once were—

—he was no longer laying down in his grandpa’s house…he was standing in a valley. It was no longer night, it was the middle of the day from the look of it. The grass around him was tall, almost up to his chest. The lime-green strands tickled at his skin as he watched the color ripple underneath the purple skies and silver clouds. Massive trees in the distance rose for miles and branches spanned hundreds of yards.

A bird called in the distance.

It was serene.

Calm.

A flock of birds tore from the gigantic trees, startled by sudden call. The dark feathers funneled from below and filled the sky, obscuring the clouds. The flock grew and grew, drowning out all the color like a spilled vial of ink.

A wave of unease washed over Damien as the darkness surrounded him and the sound of the flapping wings and squawking thundered to point of hurting his ears.

The birds drew closer, thankfully not noticing him. He felt the warmth of his urine running down his inner thigh…the creatures that had taken flight were terrifying! They were certainly things he had never seen before.

A single ‘bird’ had a full wingspan of at least ten yards. Six talons, total, appeared sharp and big enough to puncture a bank vault. The black feathers refused to reflect any light. Its beak, a blood red arrow, looked to be able to dish out the same kind of damage as the talons, and surely able to scoop up a man whole if it so desired.

And then one noticed Damien.

The boy froze in place, mainly in terror, but a sliver of reasoning told him that even if he tried, to the absolute fullest of his ability, there was no way he was going to be able to outrun one of those creatures. Even if he did, there were thousands out there ready to take its place. And if one had spotted him, countless others would have taken notice. So he stood there, eyes wide, piss flowing, waiting for his inevitable death.

The monstrous bird spread its wings and glided down, it thrust its bottom half forward and readied its deadly talons. One second out, a sudden and confusing thought came to Damien: it was so graceful and beautiful.

He braced himself.

And half a second later, another large form lunged from the grass ocean—so fast that it was only a blur. A deafening screech pierced Damien’s ears and the massive bird hit the ground to his left so hard it nearly shook the earth from beneath him.

Whatever the hell jumped from the overgrowth was nowhere near the size of the terrifying winged beast that was now screeching in its own horror and confusion. The smaller creature evaded the talons and beak that erratically reached for it. Despite its speed, Damien recognized it as vaguely humanoid, covered in amber fur with small pointed ears and a tail. The bird thrashed around violently and its aggressor scurried about, not unlike a lizard, clawing and biting in rapid succession. Damien could not get a good enough view of the face—but the rest of it suggested something like a big cat or some kind of wolf.

The bird writhed and opened a fatal weak spot for the attacker. The smaller creature clamped around its throat. Its squawking was pinched off and a deep gurgling sound came deep from within. A few shakes and a wrenching of the head by the furred monster and the bird stopped moving.

Silence.

The grasses around the alien lifeforms swayed gently in the breeze.

Above, the flock—even as they outnumbered the cat- or wolf-like beast—thought twice before swooping down any further. They circled in the distance, maintaining their altitude and called out indignantly.

Movement from below caught Damien’s attention. Amber heads popped up from the vibrant grasslands and peeked out from the shrubs. Every last one of them had eyes locked on to the upset figures in the sky, each furred body as still as stone. A celebratory roar came from atop the body (Damien made himself smaller in the grasses). The victor swiped its forearm across its bloody maw, seemingly having had its fill. Its chest expanded and unleashed another horrifying, but different, call. All the nearest of its kind turned their attention away from the sky and carefully approached the quarry. Looks like it was feeding time for the rest of the family.

Damien blinked and the next thing he knew, he was laying on his side, looking at his cousin with blurred vision. He was in his pajamas and curled up beneath a blanket. As the vivid dreamworld faded, he slowly came to the realization that they were still in the pillow fort from last night. Yawning, he stretched and got up for the day.

The morning continued with breakfast cereal and cartoons. Olivia managed to stagger into the living room, eyes still glazed-over, half lost in her own dreams, while he was watching The Super Mario Bros. Super Show. She somehow got herself a glass of milk and a bowl of Cap’n Crunch during the next commercial break. An hour later, morning talk shows started up and the cousins put on the Nintendo until the temperature outside no longer had a chilly bite to it.

VIII

The first weekend came and went and, as usual, the first monster movie marathon was temporarily on hold. Monica and (to a lesser extent) Arthur hated the idea of Damien watching too much horror. Grandpa Roberts had always recorded the first weekends’ movies to tape. The first weekend without parents always held an all-day monster mash. And what luck for the kids, a tropical storm out in the Atlantic was set to whip up a series of thunder showers late Friday evening and carry on well into Sunday. Sure, Olivia’s second week ever tending to the grounds would be mucky as shit, but the atmosphere for their day-long extravaganza was going to be perfect.

Grandpa Roberts and his grandkids kept this all a heavily- guarded secret, because if Monica found out she’d spill the beans to Livia’s parents and he’d catch hell from both sides. Sticks in the mud, all of them. Where did he go so wrong in raising his kids? There was nothing wrong in having a good scare. He’d seen all the greats on the silver screen, Bela Lugosi, Boris Karloff, Vincent Price, and so on. He didn’t get all the blood, guts, and gore present in today’s films that were noticeably absent from his teenage years. And he certainly wouldn’t let his grandkids sit through all that, but the TNT and USA networks sorted all editing for him.

#

There wasn’t much more to note in that first week back to Crowley’s Point, with the exception of Damien’s birthday on the 10th of June—his twelfth.

Olivia led Damien out to the woods for a swim while the adults set up for his birthday party. A couple wrapped boxes and a Happy Birthday streamer greeted him. It was no secret there would be more to it, but Damien went along with it all.

Upon the pair’s return from the last good swim before the storm, a small mountain of gifts sat in front of the living room couch. Balloons drifted around the dining room and a Mylar balloon with the number twelve was tied around the chair for Damien’s intended spot. His favorite meal, porkchops and mashed potatoes, was on the menu for the evening and a chocolate cake (with the appropriate amount of trick candles— Olivia’s idea) rested as the table’s centerpiece. He loved it. But despite his feelings, Damien knew that if his schoolmates caught wind of this he would be mocked endlessly. How could anyone grow out of having a birthday party? It didn’t seem silly to him. Not at all. So what if he was considered immature? It didn’t mean the other kids were more refined, it just made them boring.

Damien’s mind tripped back to the Halloween Festival in elementary school, that had been a blast! The principal and other faculty members took turns in a dunking booth outside of the main entrance. There were face painting stations and all kinds of hot foods and drinks brought in. Each of the classrooms held different games or raffles hosted by that particular room’s teacher. All the students got little gift bags with candies and small toys. But the same gusto was nowhere to be seen once he crossed the threshold into middle school. The ‘games’ amounted to five different booths in the cafeteria that were hastily and haphazardly thrown together. Each were hosted by teachers that feigned interest in being there and found much more enjoyment in chatting with each other. The overwhelming majority of the event was held in the gym…in the form of a dance…which he sure as hell was not dressed up for (and, technically, neither was any one else…it was a Halloween dance and nobody was in costume). And while it was open up to all three grades, only a handful of his friends were there; the room was dominated by seventh- and eighth-graders. The newfound brain between his legs did appreciate the spots of cleavage and the long, slender legs of the girls which, otherwise, were always hidden away by the school’s dress code. It was the first time he realized getting older sucked in some ways.

“Wow! Awesome! Thank you guys!” Damien rounded up his parents and grandpa for a hug.

“Hey! What about me?” Olivia pouted.

“What about you?” he retorted, breaking his hold from his grandfather’s arms. “What did you do for me?”

Her hand shot toward the living room and pointed towards one of the bigger boxes in the collection. “I helped Grandpa pick that out for you!”

Damien rolled his eyes and let an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, I guess I should thank you too,” he teased and gave her a one-armed hug with a gentle squeeze.

“You want to open them soon, bud?” Damien’s mother asked. The Kodak camera in her hands suggested that she anticipated a hearty ‘yes’ from her son with zero hesitation.

And he did not disappoint. Damien bounded over to the presents with Olivia in tow. His dad checked up on the state of the food before joining the rest for the start of the festivities. One by one, Damien went through each gift with a smile on his face. They were all toys or games that he’d hinted at over the past couple months. His aunts and uncles that were too distant to be there for his party sent cards and checks. Olivia’s parents, though, gifted him with a new pair of swim trunks and a Far Side t-shirt that had a confirmation slip of a MAD magazine subscription tucked within the neat folds. The twelve-year-old’s eyes lit up. “Sweet!” He beamed at Olivia. “Thank them the next time you talk with them on the phone.” Her parents got him—especially her dad.

“I will,” she replied, smiling. “But you still have two more to go.” She leaned over and slid the large rectangular box along with a much smaller, significantly lighter, one. Naturally, biggie got torn apart first.

Damien drew a breath and his eyes went as wide. “Holy crap! Thank you, Grandpa!”

Olivia cleared her throat.

“And thank you, Livia!”

His cousin beamed and curtsied.

Sitting before Damien, among the shredded wrapping paper, was a Nintendo Entertainment System, with a pair of controllers and the Super Mario Bros./Duck Hunt cartridge—undoubtedly they would be taking turns as Mario and Luigi.

“It’s the second gift that Livia really gave me a hand with,” Grandpa Roberts proclaimed as Damien grabbed hold of the smaller box and tore the wrapping off in a single fluid motion. A devilish grin crept across his face.

Castlevania.

He raised his eyebrows and shook the cartridge at his cousin.

“You gonna play this one at all?”

Olivia shook her head. “Uh-uh. That’s all yours.”

As much as he wanted to call her a scaredy-cat, her resolving not to play it gave him more game-time…and also, y’know, she did pick it out for him. He turned over the box to revel in the artwork and read the synopsis of the story. A card was taped on the back of the box. Damien removed it and turned it over.

Community Video

2 Kenton Avenue, Crowley’s Point, VA

The holder of this card is entitled to

Rent from this store in the following categories:

Video Games

Movies: G, PG, PG-13

New Releases: 1 night Gallery titles: 5 nights

“Figured you’d be doin’ some renting with your chores money after a hard work week. You both will be able to get what you like for your weekends.”

“Thanks Grandpa!” the kids chimed together.

Arthur ducked back into the kitchen momentarily and poked his head back out. “Dinner’s ready!”

#

The plates were put down on the table with little open space, they were taken off cleared. The massive feast that doubled as a birthday celebration and the official start of summer made even the bellies of the gluttonous children bulge over their waistbands. Once Damien and Olivia had (more than) their share that first night, they sluggishly ambled to the bedroom and hooked up the NES (all the bending and twisting to reach all the hook-ups behind the regular-sized TV tired them out even more). Olivia was out for the count before her turn at Super Mario Bros., so Damien switched over to Castlevania. He did not make it much farther when his eyes grew too heavy to keep open.

The game provided plenty of monsters to haunt his dreams again, but as with the previous night, the details vanished before he even stepped into the kitchen for breakfast.

IX

Arthur and Monica Chambers took their leave two days after Damien’s birthday party. Both of the kids started on daily chores for the cemetery (which was not in ideal condition with the storms that kicked up, and with more on the way). Damien and Olivia got on with the horror movie marathon and properly settled into a groove with the new video game system.

When the second payday came, Damien decided to pick up some weekend entertainment.

“Gonna put that card to good use?”

“Yep. Not gonna waste it at all.”

“Don’t spend all your money though—you’ll run out of games to play halfway through the summer!”

“I think that’ll happen no matter what,” Damien laughed. “There’s not many games out for it yet.”

Grandpa Roberts nodded and struck a match to light a cigarette. “Good thing I ticked movie rentals for that thing.”

In the background, the shower door slid open and the sound of damp bare feet hurried from one room to another.

“Remember to take your cousin with you too.”

He didn’t forget and Olivia tagged along. Though afterward he wished to hell he had gone into town alone. There were no problems on the walk down nor during their time in the video store spent picking their rentals and snacks. They’d each gotten a movie and a game and a snack (Clue, Gradius, and Sno-Caps for Damien and Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure, The Legend of Zelda and m&m’s for Olivia), and made their way back to their Grandpa’s house. It wasn’t until the pair left the vicinity of the shops and neighborhoods of Crowley’s Point that a funny feeling hit Damien. Halfway back up Valley Road he was walloped by overwhelming unease and dread. Like someone just outside his periphery was going to blindside him. He’d no idea why. Aside from the older man behind the counter (Damien laughed to himself when Olivia realized the teenager she was crushing on wasn’t working), they hadn’t had any interactions with strangers. There were no cars lurking behind them, in fact, the only other people outside were three older kids on a front lawn four houses behind them. Their conversation was indistinct, but their laughter unmistakable in the quiet morning.

A cold sweat broke out over Damien’s body. When questioned by Olivia, he merely used the warm weather as an excuse. Damien sighed inwardly. If he were alone, he’d at least be able to stop and sit and gather his thoughts. As that wasn’t the case, he merely powered through the walk back to his Grandpa’s.

The cousins continued on and that sensation never left while they were still in town.

X

The days went on. While there was nothing of note during the daylight hours—it was another story altogether while Damien slept. The dreams of the bizarre planet and its terrifying inhabitants recurred almost nightly. Each morning after, more and more details were retained longer after rising from bed, but with the routine activities of the mornings and afternoons all was forgotten. He never spoke of the dreams while they were still fresh in his mind. To him, they were trivial nightmares at best and not worth relaying to his grandpa or Olivia. It was his burden to shoulder (not to mention it would put a damper on the monster movies on the weekends).

Once or twice he toyed with the notion to write the stuff down. They’d be a killer basis for any fiction writing for English class…probably too gruesome. A trip to the guidance councillor wasn’t ideal for him either.

The dreams would pass, Damien was sure of that.

#

And they did.

One morning in early July, Damien finally woke up with a clean slate. He blinked his eyes, staring up at the bottom of his cousin’s top bunk and tried to recall his dreams. Not a damn thing. He breathed a sigh of relief and stepped up the side ladder of the bed and leaned in to poke at Olivia’s leg. The only response he received was a stubborn groan. He jabbed again. This time she clutched her sheets tight and rolled over, facing away from him.

“C’mon, get up! We got stuff to do.”

“Gib me fi minnis,” came the reply.

Damien sighed. “If we don’t get our chores done early, you’re gonna be too tired for the fireworks.” He grabbed a handful of the light blue fabric and yanked it over the edge. The orange glow of the sun bounced off Olivia’s bare legs and highlighted a few hairs sprouting from them. “Where are your pants?”

“Too hot,” she mumbled.

“Get dressed and let’s get some cereal.”

“Wha if I don’?”

“Then the next time we go to the video store, I’ll tell the guy that works there—the one you think is so cute—that you have more hair on your legs than me!”

Olivia’s head shot up from her pillow. She glared at him. “No you won’t!”

“I so would. I’ll even tell him you have sunflowers on your panties.”

She swiped at him with an open hand. “Don’t you dare!”

Damien skillfully drew his head back from her half-hearted attempt. He hopped off the ladder and ran to the door, looking over his shoulder. “Maybe I’ll get the work done myself and then go to the shop right after!”

Forgoing the ladder, Olivia jumps the side rail of her bunk and lands at the foot of the bed and makes to chase Damien down. He stands confidently in place, hands on his hips.

“There! You’re out of bed. Get dressed. I’ll get breakfast for us.”

Olivia grabbed her pj bottoms from the tangle of sheets and threw them his way. “You jerk!”

#

If it’s not one thing, it’s another, Damien thought while he dumped an armful of stray leaves and twigs into an open garbage bag. Not even two hours into looking after the cemetery and he was already winded. He rubbed at his shoulders and elbows. A dull pain was throbbing in his joints. No way he overexerted himself. It was too early in the shift and the temperature was decent compared to the last two days with the right amount of wind to keep them cool. Both of them had plenty of water in their respective thermoses (and he had consumed three quarters already), so it wasn’t dehydration.

And it’s not like the place was trashed. The birds had, mercifully, found a better place to shit over the weekend. Their asshole human counterparts also found somewhere else to toss their garbage.

Damien rubbed at a sore spot on his arm and decided to have another sip from his thermos. He surveyed the land as he did. The section they were in was the last to be gone through. If conditions were right for the remainder of the week, they could coast easily until the fourth.

He made a decision. “Livia,” he called over to his cousin, who was ripping out a small sticker bush from the base of a tombstone.

She turned her head in his direction. “Yeah?”

“We’ll give it thirty and then call a quits.”

“All right!” Much more peppy than she was this morning. “What do you wanna do after?” she asked, tossing the weed into her bag.

What he wanted was his goddamn body to stop aching. Lying down in bed for a nap would do no good, not at that hour. As good as if felt outside, the bedroom would have already started to heat up like an oversized oven. Getting in the tub would normally be relaxing, but leaning back would do no favors for his neck and back.

“Creek?”

She smiled.

“And we’ll hit the Burger Shack when we get out.” The words came out automatically and he regretted it the moment they left his lips. Can’t back out now. Silver lining, though, it wasn’t nearly far as town and it wouldn’t be an uphill walk all the way back.

#

Forty minutes later, the two entered the clearing of their swimming hole. Olivia ran the entire way. Damien went at a moderate pace, insisting that he was going to take it easy. No need to worry her about getting sick in a graveyard two years running.

The creek was a sight for sore eyes (and the rest of his body). He didn’t mess with laying his clothes out on the tree. On the bank, he discarded his clothes in a pile and waded out as Olivia was making her way across the massive tree trunk.

Damien leaned back, gingerly kicking his legs out, and floated aimlessly. He closed his eyes and felt the pain ebb away.

“Hey! What’re you doing?” Olivia called from above, her words muted by the water.

He curled his neck forward. “Huh?”

“Why’d you leave your stuff over there?”

Damien squinted his eyes mainly to keep the sun from shining directly in, partly not to take in the whole view of Olivia from an upskirt angle. “Dunno. Couldn’t wait to get out here, I guess. Don’t wanna overwork and be too tired for the Fourth.”

It wasn’t a lie. And the frigid creek was lessening the pain.

That is, until Olivia jumped from the tree. She turned in midair, spread her arms and legs as far as she was able and landed butt-first a little ways from him. Not far enough to keep every drop of water off of his exposed flesh. The droplets might as well have been ice cubes the way his body flinched when they spattered on his stomach and collarbone. He gasped and his knees curled to his midsection, causing his body to sink. The pain in his limbs flared up. Damien let out a scream before he surfaced. He remembered to calm himself. Having a splash fight or playfully tossing his younger cousin would only screw around his body more.

“Sorry!” Olivia laughed. “I really didn’t mean to do that.” The emphasis on the one word and the devilish smile flashed afterward were taunts for sure.

Instead, he deployed the psychological tactics. “It’s fine,” Damien replied nonchalantly, wiping the water from his eyes. “It’s not like I’m planning to get you back. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow,—”

Olivia made retching sounds. “You sound like Grandpa’s movies!”

“—maybe not for a loooong time.” He gave a sinister look and smile. And when he got no further response he resumed his floating.

XI

The day before the fireworks was payday. Grandpa Roberts had no problem dealing out the cash at breakfast. As he doled out the weekly wages and offered some advice, “Now, don’t go spending it all today. They’re talking about having some booths this year. Games and food. Might want to see what they have to offer.”

“Okay,” they answered and took the money.

The kids finished their oatmeal and headed out to the cemetery. Today’s shift would be a short one, Damien promised his cousin that before going to bed the previous night. No storms, no litter, not even a gust of wind to bring down branches or other debris. All they had to do was hook up the hoses and give the grass and flowers a good feed.

The second every section was glistening in the morning sun, the hoses were rolled up and stashed in the groundskeeper’s shed. The kids ran to town.

#

It seemed that the talk about the festival was true. Crowley’s Point was bustling with activity for a Friday morning. Granted, a portion of them were setting up sleeping bags and lawn chairs, making camp to secure spots for tomorrow’s celebration, but far more were setting up stalls.

From their vantage point, only a few of the games stalls were visible. All of them classics of the county fair: the duck pond, ring toss, balloon darts, and a shooting gallery. The prizes were already hanging along the backdrops and from the awnings, the selections each different to their neighbors. Most of the winnings looked fairly cheesy and baby-ish to Damien. And for someone his age, he wouldn’t be dead with most of them. He eyed the stalls with the multicolored balloons and the moving targets and thought a WWF poster or a small pool float for the creek wouldn’t be so bad. The sky was the limit for Olivia, however, with a mishmash of weird stuffed animals or anthropomorphized foods and plants. The Coca-Cola can with sunglasses and headphones stood out to him first.

Grills were going further back, Damien could smell and see the blue-gray smoke rising up. Burgers and hotdogs for sure. He saw coolers filled with ice and sodas. Someone was carrying two hefty bags filled with cotton candy past another stall with a crude marker drawing of a giant pretzel.

Damien’s stomach gurgled.

“How are you hungry already?” Olivia asked, bewildered. “We didn’t do anything!”

“I always pig out at the county fair,” he replied, shrugging and patted his belly. “He knows what’s coming.”

“Weirdo.”

“Look who’s talking,” he said back and switched gears. “Alright, that sign there says this will open in, like, ten minutes. I take it you’re not hungry yet?”

Olivia shook her head.

“We’ll go around the block, have a look at the shops to kill some time, and come back for snacks. Tonight, we can come back down to play some games.”

Near the halfway point on the walk, on Kenton Avenue, Damien started to have that strange feeling again. It was a combination like it his body was on full alert and there was an sense of dread mixed in. He kept this to himself, of course. There was no need to frighten Olivia—not again. Whenever she would busy herself looking at stuff in a storefront window, Damien took the initiative and checked his surroundings for anything suspicions, each time coming up with nothing out of the ordinary.

After they had their fill with browsing (neither of them made any purchases, wanting to have as much money for the games and food), the kids made straight for the park.

Maybe it was the scent of the mouth-watering food or maybe it was the commotion from all the games being played around them, but that weird sensation started to fade for Damien. No better time than now, it was really starting to hinder his appetite. Now all he could think of was finding the biggest, greasiest burger he could find.

Olivia, on the other hand, was apparently looking only for a light snack. She tapped on her cousin’s shoulder and pointed to the sign for deep-fried Oreos and bounded off.

XII

The pair tried to keep a conversation going on the way back up to their grandpa’s house, which was difficult because both of them kept going back to the carny food. Olivia’s Oreos were going to last, Damien noted, since she was taking a bunch of little bird bites. His bacon double cheeseburger, though, was finished off even before halfway up the hill. He joked to himself that maybe those messed up feelings should come up before any meal, particularly on dinner nights where his body couldn’t keep up with how much his soul wanted.

That thought came too soon.

All of a sudden he felt too full. A cold sweat started to break out over his body. Damien kept his cool and pretended to stretch his back and neck. As his upper half swiveled, he checked either side of the road. Nothing. The closest things on the right were a handful of trees that strayed from the forest, too thin to hide behind. No cars were out and about on this stretch of road.

Then he saw them, walking up the road behind them, a group of high school boys. Even at a glance from the distance he could make that out: styled hair, shirts and shorts that showed off their defined muscles, all of them sporting the Adidas or Nike logos on every piece of clothing (no mixing and matching for any of them, each boy went all out on one brand only)—jocks for sure. The group made bigger strides and would soon catch up.

Curious, Olivia looked over her shoulder. She and Damien shared a psychic moment in which they agreed not to make eye contact with any of them. Like some great apes, that would only incite wrath onto the pair. They started up an impromptu conversation, making sure to only look at one another. Thank Christ they weren’t walking on the same side of the street.

The teens drew closer and Damien could feel himself salivating. Not good. That always happened just before he barfed. But the food wasn’t rising to his stomach. The uneasy feeling was there…yet it felt different somehow.

The talking behind them was still incomprehensible. Only their laughter was clear. That and a handful of ‘shit’s or ‘fuck’s.

In a moment of what he could perceive as panic, Olivia clasped her hand around Damien’s.

Oh, shit…

The group behind them broke out into harsher laughter and hit them with an ‘aaawwww’. Olivia’s fingers gripped him tighter.

“Lookit the looovebirds!” one of the douchebags called out.

“Think they’re gonna fuck?” another asked loud enough for their benefit. They were close now.

“Hey, not before I have a turn!”

Damien stopped dead. He let go of Olivia’s hand and spun around on his heels and shouted back, “She’s a kid you cockstain!”

“Oh, this one’s got a temper,” Blonde Nike cooed at him. “Better step back, faggot, or you’re gonna get hurt.”

Damien grinned back at him. “Try it.”

The blonde moved forward while his friends stayed back and egged him on. Damien matched him despite Olivia’s protests. As they neared, the teenager made to shove Damien’s shoulder, either to further intimidate or actually shove him down to the asphalt—that didn’t go to plan. Damien quickly stepped to the left, avoiding the open palm and shot his right fist into the teen’s stomach. All the air exploded from the older boy’s chest and he doubled over, no longer an immediate threat.

The other teens started to move in on Damien, fingers curled in to fists, looking to settle the score. The younger boy responded to the incoming threat by finishing what he started with the first of their bunch. Damien pulled back his hand and connected it to the underside of Blonde Nike’s jaw with an uppercut. Olivia winced hearing the high schooler’s teeth crack together and watched, stunned, as he staggered back and fell to the pavement. His shaking handed moved up to cover his mouth and he moaned in pain.

Damien turned his full attention to the others, who stopped short, seemingly rethinking the next move. After a beat, they decided to scoop up Blondie.

“You could have kept walking,” Damien said dully, almost bored, “but you started shit up anyway. Leave us alone.” The twelve year old stood his ground and kept his eye on the older boys, waiting—hoping—for another one to make a move. None of them did.

Without another word the pack of teens ran back toward Crowley’s Point, tails tucked firmly between their legs.

Only when they were out of sight did Damien’s rigid stance loosen. His tensed muscles relaxed and his demeanor changed on a dime. He turned to his cousin, eyes bright as ever and with a smile on his face. “You okay, Livia?”

“Y-yeah,” she replied, blinking. “Are you? I’ve never seen you get in a fight before.” There was a slight tremor in her voice that didn’t go unnoticed.

Damien’s smiled faded into a look of remorse. “Sorry…I hate guys like that. There’s some at my school that think they can do whatever they want ‘cuz they can throw a ball.” He sighed. “I’m fine though. Please don’t tell Grandpa.”

“I won’t,” she paused and added quietly, “I kinda wanted something bad to happen to them. I just didn’t expect that.”

“I don’t think they’ll bother me and you if we ever see ‘em again. Come on, let’s get back to the house. I need a snack.” He sidled up to Olivia and continued the trip back.

“You’re still hungry?”

“I felt like I was gonna puke a minute ago.” Damien shrugged.

“You want one of my Oreos?”

“Nah. They’re yours. You finish, I can wait ‘til we get home.”

XIII

As much as she would have liked to put the encounter with the high school boys behind her, Olivia simply couldn’t—not for the rest of the day at least. No matter what she was doing, whether it was watching TV or playing games with Damien or helping Grandpa Roberts get stuff ready for dinner, she kept getting flashes of what happened down the road. Even though she never saw his face while he stared down the teenagers, her mind played back the scene like an out-of-body experience. She watched from the side of the older boys, even seeing herself watching on, dumbfounded. The expression on her cousin’s face frightened her. He looked so angry and yet so happy that he was getting the chance to fight. It was crazy. She knew she couldn’t see him from that angle, let alone read his mind and knowing he wanted to aggravate the situation.

But still…

#

Olivia curled up in her bunk later that night exhausted. Grandpa Roberts drove them back to town after supper to play the carnival games. It only took her an hour to hand over most of her allowance, but it was totally worth it. She snuggled up to the brightly-colored owl plushie she won and drifted to sleep.

Her dreams were troubled, ones mixed with the fear from earlier that morning and the horrors from the movie on the portable TV after they got back. They were filled with monsters and spooky woods and would have kept her awake until dawn had she watched that on the small screen.

Minutes after her eyes fluttered open the next morning, all was lost to the void that was Dreamland. The thoughts of Damien’s fight and the high school boys were not even a vague recollection until some years later.

#

On the lower bunk, however, Damien’s dreams were filled with images of him obliterating the assholes from that morning. The jocks were decapitated and disemboweled and mutilated in the most hideous ways with his bare hands. Their blood flowed in torrents downhill while crows feasted on the pulp of the gore it expelled from.

Those images never truly reached the inaccessible depths of his mind. On more than one occasion a smile would break out when even briefest glimpse flickered in his conscious thought.

***

‘Unfortunately, that’s all we have for now. Rest assured, we’ll continue on this journey with Damien and Olivia next time. We’ll have to pick up about a year down the road in their timeline, when the readings really start to spike up again.’ Yuki says, escorting you all from the Void. ‘But, hey, we’ve got chocolate bunnies and Peeps.’

‘And the eggs! Don’t you dare forget the eggs!’ the assistant warns.

‘Of course. Now get to searching! Whatever you find in the eggs, you keep. There’s a couple out there with a shiny dollar coin in it for you!’

‘Ugh, you’re so old.’

‘That was a joke!’ She sighs and continues. ‘For real, though, some of ‘em have lobsters and pineapples. Forty-eight eggs total. You keep the cash. We’re having fun, right?’

‘It took so many hours to hide these…’

‘Not as bad as Halloween or Christmas, right?’

The assistant shudders. ‘Don’t remind me…’

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