Thanks to one thoughtless, selfish bastard.
She trotted up the porch stairs as Vivian jabbed the doorbell button. She heard the bell jangling inside the house. Again and again.
The door swung open.
The man standing in the lighted foyer was not an old grouch. He was young, probably no older than thirty. He looked perfectly normal in his plaid shirt and jeans, his short hair neatly combed. But his eyes were narrow, his lips twisted with a sneer.
‘What the hell do you want?’
‘What the hell is the matter with you?’ Vivian demanded. ‘We saw what you did to those little kids. There’s no excuse for that kind of behavior.’
‘It’s Halloween, for Godsake,’ Cora said.
‘They were just trying to have fun,’ Abilene said.
‘Shouldn’t have rung my bell, should they?’
‘If you don’t like it, you shouldn’t have opened the door,’ Abilene told him. ‘Why’d you have to scare them like that!’
‘It was really shitty,’ Finley said.
‘Awwww, I’m so sorry.’
‘You should be,’ Helen said.
Leaning forward, he raised his upper lip high enough to bare his gums. He turned his head slowly as if inspecting a group of repulsive but somewhat amusing lepers. ‘Get out of here. Fuck off.’
With that, he slammed the door.
At a twenty-four hour convenience store several blocks away, they bought a dozen eggs, a can of shaving cream, and a pair of rubber dish-washing gloves. As the clerk loaded the items into a paper bag, Cora helped herself to a couple of free matchbooks.
***
On their way back to the man’s house, they found a pile of dog waste in the grass beside a tree.
‘Allow me,’ Finley said.
Cora emptied the bag. Finley put on the rubber gloves, picked up the rank, gooey pile, and dropped it into the bag. She tossed the gloves in after it.
They arrived at the house.
Its porch was still dark, but faint light glowed through the living room curtains.
Cora took the bag from Finley. Helen, Vivian, Finley and Abilene crouched down beyond a corner of the porch. From there, they watched Cora through slats in the railing.
Abilene trembled. She gritted her teeth to stop her chin from shaking as Cora climbed the stairs.
Crazy, she thought. This guy might be dangerous.
But he’d asked for it. And he’s gonna get it.
Cora slid the welcome mat out of the way. She placed the bag just in front of the door. Squatting, she struck a match. She touched its flame to the crumpled paper. As fire crawled over the bag, she sprang up, poked the doorbell a couple of times, and rushed down the stairs.
Reaching the middle of the lawn, she whirled around in time to see the man throw open his door.
‘Shit!’
He leaped over the threshold and stomped the blazing bag. Embers flew. Abilene heard a soft splat. His ankle, bare above the top of his house slipper, went dark.
‘Yeeeuug!’
But he kept stomping until the fire was out. Then he lifted his foot and looked at it. Then he looked at Cora.
‘Trick or treat!’ Cora called.
‘Cunt! ’ He lurched across the porch, gasped when his clotted slipper skated sideways, but kept his balance and raced down the stairs.
Cora took off.
The man dashed after her.
He was hot on her tail by the time she reached the sidewalk. There, she ducked her head and sprinted. The guy went after her. A moment later, they were both out of sight.
‘Man, was he ever pissed,’ Finley said.
‘What if he catches her?’ Helen asked.
‘He won’t,’ Finley said.
‘Come on.’ Abilene rose from her crouch. She led the way along the front of the porch and up the stairs toward the open door. Her legs felt weak and shaky. Her heart pounded.
‘I sure hope nobody else is here,’ Vivian whispered.
‘Who would live with a jerk like that?’ Abilene said.
‘Another jerk, maybe,’ Helen suggested.
Careful to avoid the charred remains and brown smears, Abilene stepped onto the threshold. She leaned forward. To the right of the tile foyer was the living room. From where she stood, she couldn’t see much of it.
She heard nothing except her own heartbeat.
‘Let’s do it and get out,’ Vivian whispered.
Nodding, Abilene shook the can of shaving cream and pried off its lid. She crept across the foyer and stepped onto the carpet. The television was off. The only light came from a single lamp at one end of the sofa. Its dim bulb left deep shadows in the corners of the room.
‘Nobody here,’ Finley said.
‘I guess…’
An egg came from behind, dropped just in front of Abilene’s face and shattered on the carpet at her feet.
‘Watch it.’
Finley laughed.
Another egg sailed by. This one smashed against the wall above the TV set. Its viscous contents splattered and dribbled. Turning around, Abilene watched Finley and Vivian pluck more eggs from the carton in Helen’s hand and hurl them. The missiles exploded, splashing yellow glop against walls, the ceiling, a lamp table, a rocking chair barely visible in one corner.
Abilene hurried over to the coffee table. A glass half full of soda was there. With a quick squirt, she gave the soda a frothy head of shaving cream. Eggs exploding all around her, she drew curlicues of suds on the table top. Then she went to the sofa. Its upholstery was covered with something that looked like an old bedspread, so she figured the shaving cream wouldn’t do any real damage. She started at the lighted end of the sofa and made her way down its length, leaving thick, fluffy designs along its cushions.
She kept her eyes on the job.
Until she came to the far end of the sofa.
In the gloom between Abilene and the wall, some five feet away, she saw a chair. She’d noticed the chair earlier. Hidden in a dark corner as it was, however, she hadn’t realized it was a wheelchair. Nor had she noticed that it wasn’t empty.
Something was in the chair.
A bundle of blankets topped with a small, gray orb that almost resembled a head.
Her heart gave an awful lurch.
She stared at the thing. It didn’t move. It didn’t make a sound. The head really didn’t look much like a head, at all, more like a shriveled grapefruit perched on a stalk above the blankets. But it seemed to have a face.
A dummy? A mannequin? Maybe one of those inflatable sex dolls.
‘Hey,’ she gasped. ‘Over here.’
