The Pumpkin Man (15 page)

A stair creaked behind her. The basement light winked out.

“Who's there?” Teri called.

Another stair creaked. Fear fully registered.

The darkness was total. There were no windows in the basement. It was night outside anyway. Another creak. Someone was definitely coming down the stairs.

“What the fuck,” Teri whispered, her memories of violence overwhelming her brain.

She felt her way along the shelving unit. She needed something to protect herself with, something sharp or heavy. Her son's toys weren't going to help.

Another creak.

Teri racked her brain. What was down here that she could use? And, how could
he
see in the dark if she was blind? What did he want?

The workbench was just behind the shelving, so she could find a screwdriver or the hammer if she could get there. Teri turned away from the shelving but her foot caught on something. She stumbled, tried to right herself, and then her other foot caught on a box and she lost the rest of her balance. Her hands slapped the cement of the basement floor.

Creak.

Again? How many creaks had that been? How many stairs were there from the kitchen to the basement? Why was he walking so slowly?

Teri crawled forward on her hands and knees until she found
the base of her workbench. Reaching up for the lip of the wood, she used it to pull herself back to her feet. She didn't hear anything now, but she felt a presence. Someone was in the room with her. Moving toward her.

She felt her way across the bench, seeking anything she could use to protect herself. By touch she identified the electric drill, a case of drill bits, a roll of string, a handful of pencils. A ruler. And then her fingers scrabbled over a Phillips-head screwdriver. She grabbed it and held tight, but at the same time, she kept running her other hand across the bench.

She knocked something over. It felt like a metal tube. Yes! The industrial-strength flashlight, it was heavy as a lead pipe. She picked it up and turned toward the stairs.

Teri knew that someone was there, probably just a few yards away. For a second she considered not turning the light on; after all, that would indicate to the intruder where she was. But she didn't care. She had to know. She thumbed the
ON
button.

Her light found the face of a man with black irises staring hard at her. He was almost on top of her.

With one hand, he reached out and took her light. He didn't say a word, and Teri was too shocked to scream. Her heart stopped as she whispered, “You!”

The man didn't answer. Instead, he raised the flashlight and brought it down like a hammer. Teri crumpled to the floor.

The man set the flashlight back on the workbench, lifted Teri and laid her out there as well. He stepped away for a moment and returned with a pumpkin, which he also set on the bench, next to her head. A stream of blood oozed down between her eyes to drip off the tip of her nose.

The man removed a package from his belt; it was leather and unfolded to reveal knives of different shapes and lengths. He took out the longest, heaviest blade, stabbed it into the top of the pumpkin and sawed back and forth until he was able to remove the stem. Then he took a shorter, thinner knife and touched it to
Teri's left eyebrow, pressing down and gently drenching it in the woman's essence. Turning the knife on the gourd, he carved out an eyehole, lubricated by the blood of Teri's eye. Then, little by little, he touched his knife to Teri's features, and with the strange magic of his special knives, stitched her blood and soul into the pumpkin, which slowly began to resemble her face, in an eerie, horrible, far-too-realistic way.

At one point Teri woke, but he quickly silenced her spate of screams. It was best if they were alive while he transferred their essence to the rind, but it was better if they were quiet. He carved unchecked through the rest of the night.

November 19, 1985

Found in a book printed over one hundred years ago:

 

The road to hell is paved with dreams and knives. First comes the desire to be more than a common man. Next comes bloodlust, and the fantasy of possibility. I
can
be more than the common man. Finally comes the doorway in the dark. A doorway with only one exit.

 

I brought George his doorway. I didn't understand.
But, I don't believe that the door only goes one way. I can't.

Sleep had not been easy or deep. Jenn plodded into the kitchen rubbing her eyes.

Kirstin was not in evidence, but the coffeepot was full. Jenn poured herself a cup, then walked into the front room. Kirstin was there, flopped on the couch in gray sweatpants and a T-shirt, reading a book.

A book? Decidedly unlike her.

“What are you doing?” Jenn asked.

Kirstin looked up and smiled. “I thought I'd use this library of the weird to see if there were any references to a Pumpkin Man.”

A chill ran up Jenn's spine. “And?”

“No luck so far.”

“Hmmmph.” Jenn pushed Kirstin's feet off the edge of the couch and sat down. “Something spoke to us last night,” she said. It was both a fact and a question.

“
I
didn't move that thing around,” Kirstin replied. “So . . . yeah.”

“That's fucked-up.”

“Yeah,” Kirstin agreed. “It was.”

Jenn sipped her coffee and thought about the night. “So . . . Nick and Brian didn't mess with the Ouija board.”

“Probably not,” Kirstin said.

“But you threw them out. So, now what?”

“You can call them today and tell them your roommate's a ditz, that they should come back up. And that they should ignore me.”

“
I
should do that?” Jenn said.

“Or I guess I could.”

Jenn nodded. “I am pretty sure that's your call to make.”

Kirstin looked annoyed. “You going to help me research?” she asked, setting down
The History of the Occult, Vol. 3
and reaching for a different book. She'd set a stack on the end table next to the couch.

“No,” Jenn said, finishing her coffee in a single gulp. “I'm going to go take a shower.”

She got up and deposited her cup in the kitchen before heading to the bedroom. Today was about getting out of the house, maybe hanging out and exploring River's End. Jenn did not want to spend the morning poring over books of the dark arts.

As she stepped into her bedroom, she stopped as if she'd run into a brick wall. Her eyes grew wide. There, at the foot of her bed, lay a pile of pumpkin shards: orange-skinned triangles, their flesh bright and clearly still moist. Spattered with crimson. It couldn't be what it looked like. Someone was messing with her.

Her chest tightened. “Shit. Shit. Shit,” she whispered. “Not again.”

Had they been here when she woke up? Jenn looked around the room and then back at the bits of pumpkin. The edge of her comforter hung partially over them, which meant they must have been. She'd been so drowsy she must have stepped right past them, her mind only focused on coffee.

“Kirstin?” she called, struggling to keep the tremors from her voice. “Could you come here?”

In a moment, her roommate rounded the corner.

Jenn pointed at the floor. “Did you leave me some pumpkin for breakfast?” she said, trying desperately to lighten her inner terror. “Maybe as a joke?”

Kirstin went pale. “Um, no.”

“Well, someone did.” Jenn stared her roommate in the eye. “Someone was in my room last night while I was sleeping.”

“Fuck. I didn't hear anything.” Kirstin's eyes were wide. “Do you think one of the guys came back and . . . ?”

Jenn shook her head. “How would they know?”

“We've got to get out of here.”

“I don't think that's going to help,” Jenn realized. “They found pumpkin shards in my dad's apartment. I found pumpkin pieces last month in Chicago. Last night, some freakin' spirit told us to beware the Pumpkin Man. Now there are pumpkin pieces
here.
Something is following me, Kirstin, and I think we need to find out what it is. Because hopping a plane didn't seem to make any difference.”

Her friend looked pained. “I want to know how it got in.”

“I'd like to know why it left me pumpkin pieces with what looks to be blood on them!” Jenn replied.

Kirstin pursed her lips before murmuring, “Not to mention how it got pumpkins out of season. I haven't noticed any specialty grocery stores around here.” Her eyes lit on the door to the basement, and on a whim she reached out and grabbed the knob. It turned with no resistance.

“We never locked the door,” Kirstin whispered.

“We sure the hell did,” Jenn replied. She saw the black wings of the bat nailed to the wall and with one hand pressed the door back closed. “Get the key,” she added. “Please.”

Kirstin disappeared into the kitchen. A minute later she returned with the key. After turning it in the lock, both of them tested the knob. The door would not open.

“Okay,” Jenn said. “I'm taking a shower, and then we're getting out of here for a while.”

While Jenn showered, Kirstin went back to the kitchen to get a plastic shopping bag, scooped the pumpkin bits in and took them to the trash. She did her best not to touch the pieces. She did her best not to think about how they got there. And, by the time she was done, she was more than anxious to leave the house. Because someone had come into their home in the middle of the night and stood over their beds. She didn't know that making sure the basement door was locked would help.

“Damn,” she said as the pumpkin pieces fell to the bottom of the green garbage pail in the garage.

“Damn and
fuck,
” she added, closing the garage door.

“I called Brian,” Kirstin said. “I apologized.”

Jenn smiled. Her hair was still wet from her shower, but she'd pulled on jeans and a T-shirt. She didn't plan on dolling up today.

“I asked if they'd come up again tonight. Said that we could make it up to them. He said yes.”

“They're coming back?” Jenn asked. Her plan to dress casual went right out the window.

Kirstin nodded. “Yes. So, we need to pick up something good for you to cook for dinner. 'Cuz I promised them a good meal.”

“But you threw them out. Shouldn't
you
cook dinner?” Jenn asked.

“I'll drive you to the store and pay,” Kirstin promised.

They arrived at River's End's General Store an hour later with a list and an extremely disgruntled cook.

“I didn't tell them to leave,” Jenn had pointed out several times.

“But I can't cook,” was Kirstin's rebuttal.

They stepped into the market, and Jenn shook her head and walked down the main aisle to grab ingredients. Kirstin, meanwhile, headed to the front of the store.

The same clerk was at the register. Travis Lupe, she remembered.