Thing Bailiwick Read online

  Now bats, that was a different story. A swarm of a hundred hungry sharp-toothed vampire bats could probably suck him dry in a mere matter of seconds. Now that was a little more realistic. Except of course for the fact that vampire bats didn’t live in the United States, did they? He’d read that somewhere, hadn’t he? Plus, it would probably take at least a couple of minutes.

  Let’s not get carried away. Be reasonable.

  But he would literally have to be covered with them. Thousands. Not one inch of body showing, a mass of swarming, pulsating, flapping, feasting vermin clinging to him while he stumbled blindly, arms outstretched, desperately trying to get home. Lurching. Lurching forward on Frankenstein legs.

  Now there was a gross concept. Yuck! Some creature made up of all these different cadaver parts. A leg here, a hand there. Pretty gory stuff. What made it even scarier was that the creator of this monstrosity was supposed to be a doctor. A man of higher than average intelligence, even. So what in the world would possess him to go traipsing around in graveyards and tombs, cutting off heads and arms and legs? That Frankenstein fella was one messed up dude. Who in their right mind would go through all that trouble just to create some freakish monster? Nothing more than a walking corpse.

  A zombie, dude. Dead, rotting, staggering—

  “Whoa! What the devil is going on?”

  Devil. Now there was something to really think about. What exactly would the devil look like, anyway? Not that he believed in his existence. But, theoretically speaking, would he look like all the pictures: horns, pitchfork, long whipping tail, furrowed brow, deep-set evil eyes? Or would he be in disguise? Would twelve-year-old Ted Kelsey even know it if he ran into him? And was there the possibility he might be taking a late evening stroll through the woods on a still, moonless Saturday night?

  “Oh, man!”

  ~~~~

  He heard his mom come home shortly after one. He shooed Snoop from the bed before she could poke her head in to check on him. He heard her brush her teeth and crawl into bed. After that, sleep came in fitful bouts. He would awake from these in a sweat, the sheets plastered to his body, the vivid dreams—jam-packed with creepy-crawly, slithering, lurching things—still swarming through his brain.

  ~~~~

  He was awake and breathing a sigh of relief when the first morning rays filtered through the curtains. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he rummaged through his drawers, pulling out a fresh pair of blue-jeans and his Joe-the-smoking-camel T-shirt. Lastly, he pulled on his Air-Jordan high-tops, leaving the laces loose and his jeans rolled up and tucked under the tongues to showcase them nicely.

  In the kitchen, he poured Snoop a bowl of Dog Chow and himself a heaping bowl of Frosted Flakes. He was only slightly perturbed when he discovered his mom had forgotten to bring home the milk again. Any good psychologist could tell you an angry response to something so trivial would not only be a sign of a low emotional quotient, but was very probably the sign of some other deep-rooted problem, the anger released actually that stemming from an entirely different repressed issue, an unresolved matter which might even go back years, possibly even back to infancy.

  Pulling a spoon from the drawer, he plopped down at the table to eat his flakes dry. Snoop didn’t seem to mind his dry chow, so why should he, right? It was a beautiful day and it was good to be alive.

  His eyes shifted to the window over the sink. With the sun shining brightly, things outside appeared much differently than they had during the night. He realized his behavior had been utterly ridiculous. What was that saying? There was nothing to fear but fear itself? His imagination had been in overdrive. But he had it under control now. He was back to his old self again: assured, confident, laid-back—real psychologist material. Spending the night in the fort tonight—no sweat. He could do it with his eyes closed. He would do it with his eyes closed. Sleep the whole night away. Si si, señor. No problemo. And the Frosted Flakes were actually better without the milk. Crunchy and sweet, not all watered down and soggy. His mom was a genius. A real genius. And today was going to be one terrific day. And tonight—

  There was a loud crunch in his head as his teeth clamped down on the meaty inside of his cheek, completely obliterating his chipper mood. His tongue darted to the area of chompact, examining the shredded flap of skin. His mood soured even further when he tasted blood. Heck, who was he trying to fool anyway?

  Sprinkling the remaining flakes into the garbage, he tossed the empty bowl into the sink and then headed to the bathroom to spit blood into the sink.

  He was caught a bit off guard by his reflection in the mirror.

  Oh, man! Bloodshot eyes, dark circles. Looks like you haven’t slept a wink in a week, Tedinski. Twelve years old with bags. Look at you. You look like an old man.

  And what was that he saw in those bloodshot eyes? Fear?

  “Just relax, Ted. Stay cool,” he whispered to the sorry excuse of a boy in the mirror. “Oh great. Now you’re talking to yourself. Some psychologist you’re gonna make. Your own best patient, huh, Steady Teddy?”

  In the other room, the phone rang, and his heart sped up as he heard his mother’s sleepy voice answer it. He held his breath.

  He knew who it was.

  “Teddy, telephone.”

  He exhaled slowly. For some reason, he was hoping Rick would forget. No such luck.

  Arrangements were made.

  He moped around, played some Nintendo, watched a few cartoons, gave Snoop a bath, flipped through some comics.

  When Rick rapped on the front door shortly after noon, he was ready. He’d packed some hot dogs and marshmallows, a flashlight (the extra heavy-duty one his mom kept on hand for emergencies), half a roll of toilet paper, three cans of Pepsi, some cookies, a couple of Snickers bars, and half a bag of Doritos. He was set.

  “Got your toothbrush, Teddy?” his mom hollered from the bathroom.

  “Got it, Mom.”

  “And a change of underwear?”

  “Mom,” Ted groaned, rolling his eyes at Rick.

  “Well, you never know,” her voice filtered down the hall. “If you end up in the emergency room, you don’t want to be wearing dirty skivvies, do you?”

  “I don’t think my skivvies will be a top priority if I’m lying in the emergency room. And nobody calls them skivvies.”

  “Bring them anyway. And I expect your behavior to be exemplary while you’re the honored guest.” She came out of the bathroom fastening a dangling earring shaped like a large silver snowflake to an earlobe. “Hi, Ricky. How’s your mom?”

  “Fine, Mrs. Kelsey.”

  “Tell her I said hi, okay. And, oh, Teddy, by the way, I love you.”

  “Mom.”

  “Okay, okay, just one kiss,” she said, kissing his head and tousling his hair. “See, not too painful. I mean it now, no horsing around. No pillow fights. No jumping on the bed—”

  “Mom, that’s kid’s stuff.”

  “Oh right, I forgot, sorry. My little boy’s all grown up.”

  “Mom,” he grumbled.

  “Gotta run. Double shift today,” she said, snatching her purse and keys from the table.

  Stopping at the mirror by the front door, she tucked in a few loose tendrils of hair and fluffed her bangs. “Love ya, baby,” she said, blowing him a final kiss from brightly painted red lips, before exiting through the front door.

  Ted was grinning as he shook his head. He found it hard to believe the bubbly, glowing woman who had just left a cloud of Chantel No.5 in her wake was the same woman who, eighteen months earlier, had been a withdrawn, drab, timid, nervous little mouse who never would have dreamed of wearing lipstick or dabbing her neck with perfume, much less dousing herself in it. The transformation since his father’s death was amazing. It made him feel like a heel sometimes when he thought about it, but his father’s death was probably the best thing that had ever happened to the both of them. She was radiant now. He’d never seen her so happy.

  “Love ya, baby,” Ric
k mimicked, pursed lips headed for his.

  “Get away, fagboy,” Ted snapped, shoving him playfully, and they both toppled to the couch, laughing.

  “Oh, Teddy, did you pack a change of skivvies, Teddy? Oh Teddy, one last kissy pleeease.”

  As Rick came after him again, his puckered lips making vulgar smacking sounds, Ted gave him an elbow in the side. “Cram it, gayboy. You’re just jealous.”

  “I am! I am!” Rick squealed, throwing his hands to his face. “You promised to be mine, all mine!”

  “Quit screwing around, dorkwad. Let’s go. Kenny’s gonna be waiting.”

  ~~~~

  The three of them made their way single file along the beaten path with Snoop leading the way, busily sniffing his way from tree to tree and occasionally finding one worthy of lifting a leg.

  “You sure about this, Private Kelsey?” Rick asked as they meandered along.

  “Sir, yes sir,” Ted replied. “No problemo. I got snacks and Spiderman and Snoop. I even brought some Snoop Doggy Dog,” he said, reaching back to pat his backpack. “I can do this with my eyes shut.”

  “Well, it might be a good idea to keep one peeper open, soldier. You know, just in case.”

  “In case of what?” Kenny asked.

  “Well, I wasn’t gonna say nothin’.” Snapping off a switch, Ricky began to swat at the trees they passed. “But, a couple weeks ago, when I brought in the lamp, well, it was gettin’ kind of late by the time I headed back out and I swear I heard…well…”

  “What?” Kenny asked, wiping the sweat from one pink cheek.

  “Oh, well, never mind. It was probably nothing.”

  “No, come on, man, tell us,” Kenny huffed, already winded from the short hike.

  “Well, I swear there was somethin’ followin’ me. You know, kind of off to the side like, in the bushes.”

  “Man, you are so full of it,” Ted said, shaking his head and kicking at a stone in the middle of the path.

  “No, Tedster, I swear it. And every time I would stop, you know, to listen, it would stop too, almost like it was stalking me or something.”

  Ted stopped and turned to glare at him, stopping him dead in his tracks. “You’re a liar,” he said, and was taken aback when what appeared to be a genuine startled expression broke out on Rick’s face.

  “No, Tedster, I’m serious. I wouldn’t worry, though,” he said, tapping his stick on the ground. “Just some damn raccoon, or somethin’.”

  “Right.” Ted said, and continued down the path.

  ~~~~

  They had a great day, joking and laughing, and eating chips and cookies and drinking soda, and listening to Snoop Doggy Dog, and playing darts. They had a burping contest, which Kenny won hands down, after which he proceeded to grace them with a burping rendition of Old MacDonald Had a Farm.

  The time passed quickly—much too quickly for Ted—and when Rick looked at his watch and declared he and Kenny should be heading out, Ted felt his resolve waver just the slightest of bits.

  Fine, just let me pack up my few belongings here, and we’ll be on our way.

  “Later, turkeys,” he said instead, and plopped himself down casually onto the couch, propping his legs up nonchalantly. Yep, he was one cool dude. No sweat off his back.

  “Well, I guess this is it, my brave and foolish comrade,” Rick teased. “I guess it’s…farewell,” he sobbed, using his sleeve to wipe away invisible tears.

  “Eat me, douchebag,” Ted said, flinging an old chewed-up tennis ball in his direction. Rick ducked as it whizzed by his head, and then stood with an incredulous, wounded expression on his face as Snoop went bounding after it.

  “Why, Teddy, I’m crushed. I thought…I thought we were friends.”

  “Take a hike, dike,” Ted replied calmly as he looked around for another possible missile.

  “Fine, fine, okay, I’m leaving,” Ricky wept. “I just want you to know…you’re the best friend I ever had.” Dropping down to hands and knees, he left, sobbing loudly.

  “Well, hang tough, guy,” Kenny said, giving him a salute. Hiking up his pants, he plopped down on all fours and scurried after Rick, his broad behind requiring a bit more maneuvering to squeeze through and his crack still managing to present itself in bold fashion.

  Ted looked down at Snoop who sat looking up at him, the tennis ball lodged in his mouth. He immediately started to wag his tail.

  “Well, Snoop, looks like it’s just you and me, boy.”

  Snoop gave a muffled bark and, dropping to his belly, grasped the ball between his front paws and settled down for a good chew.

  Ted slowly scanned the fort. Though the sun was just beginning to sink, the fort was already beginning to take on an ominous feel, the lengthening of shadows creating an eerie uneasiness.

  Before the sun could disappear, he quickly gathered some wood to build a fire, then roasted a couple of hot dogs, one for himself and one for Snoop. Wolfing his down in about a tenth of a second, Snoop sat back on his haunches, licking his chops and avidly following every bite that went into his master’s mouth.

  “Here, knock yourself out,” Ted said, tossing him the last bite, and laughing as he gobbled it down instantly. “Now, come on, did you even taste that?” he asked, and Snoop responded by thumping his tail. “I’m sure it never touched your taste buds, you glutton,” he teased, patting his head affectionately.

  As the shadows crept in, he busied himself by roasting a couple of marshmallows until they were good and black, and then wolfing them in a fashion Snoop could be proud of, before washing them down with a Pepsi.

  As true darkness descended and the flames began to die, he clicked on the flashlight and stood it on the coffee table, welcoming the light that spilled radiantly around the fort. He then cranked up the volume on Snoop Doggy Dog—now accompanied by a chorus of crickets—and settled down on the couch to leaf through one of his comics.

  This isn’t really all that bad.

  Just as he suspected, he’d been all worked up over nothing. Nothing to fear but fear itself. Whoever said that sure knew what he was talking about. This was a piece of cake. Nothing to it. Only he wished he’d thought to bring a jacket. It was starting to get a bit—

  He lowered his magazine to his lap at the sound of leaves rustling.

  Snoop sat up, cocking his head.

  Quickly turning off the radio, Ted sat up and cocked his head too. A strange sensation coursed through him, a tingling to his toes. His heart was palpitating and his skin was clammy, and he wondered briefly if it was possible for a twelve-year-old kid to have a heart attack.

  Snoop gave a low rumbly growl.

  Suddenly, everything wasn’t so fine and dandy anymore. He felt a strange crawling sensation along his scalp, and it occurred to him that the bright flashlight might not be such a great idea. It was like a beacon calling whatever might be roaming through the woods right to him.

  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his pocket knife and slowly leaned over, clicking off the light.

  Darkness engulfed him. The embers at the pit were barely putting out a soft glow, and the night sky through the canopy of entangled branches overhead was cloudy, so even the stars could offer little relief.

  There came more rustling, ever so slight, and Snoop growled again, his hackles raising.

  Ted held his breath.

  It was nothing, just like Ricky said. Just some raccoon that smelled his hot dogs and marshmallows. Yeah, that’s all it was. Some stupid, hungry raccoon.

  He flipped up the tiny blade of his pocketknife and was disappointed when the sight of it didn’t ease his mind at all. It looked minuscule. Totally worthless. The fingernail cleaner on his mom’s nail clippers could probably do more damage. And the hand holding it was shaking. And the palm was sweaty.

  This had been a terrible idea. The worst. What on Earth had he been thinking? Maybe he’d just go home. This was crazy. Nuts. Yeah, he’d gather up his stuff and go home. Who would know, right? He’d get up early
and be back before Ricky could come looking for him. No one would ever be the wiser. And to hell with the higher than average code of ethics he’d sworn to uphold in order to pave the way for his highly respectable intended profession. He’d lie through his teeth to Rick and Kenny, both. Bet your ass!

  To hell with this!

  More rustling sounded, and Snoop jumped up and began to growl with more enthusiasm.

  Reaching down with a shaky hand, Ted stroked him gently. He was trembling. It seemed Snoop was just as spooked as he was.

  They sat in the darkness, two trembling, pathetic, fear-filled souls, allies in terror—waiting.

  For what?

  Ted didn’t know. But they were definitely waiting for something.

  And then it happened. The something. Something he never would have expected in a million years, not even in his wildest of dreams. The lamp on the refrigerator—the lamp that was only there for ambience, the cracked, ceramic lamp with the water-stained, over-sized shade, the lamp plugged into nothing but a pile of old rotting leaves and dirt—flicked on, enshrouding the fort in brilliance.

  For some reason, the toadstool came to mind. The way it fragmented when Ricky kicked it. Reality for Teddy did the same in that split second. All his hard work trying to train his brain to think like a rational, sensible scientist seemed to be for naught. Suddenly, nothing made sense. What was reality, anyway? It was only what each individual perceived it to be. So who was to say whose perception was right? This was his perception of reality at the moment, and though it seemed totally irrational, it was his reality none-the-less. And if his sanity was to survive, he would have to accept it for what it was, wouldn’t he?