The Tooth Collector (and Other Tales of Terror) (8 page)

Daniel's eyes scanned the row of neatly mowed
lawns, the trimmed hedges that lined the curb. A paper boy peddled
a bicycle down the street. A small dog yelped from behind a picket
fence.

Daniel tried not to stare, but his vision
kept settling on one house: Jimmy's. He paced a straight line,
gazing up at Jimmy's front door every time he spun around. One
thought repeated in his mind:
He is dead. My best friend is
dead.

Jimmy's front door opened, and Daniel caught
a glimpse of his ginger hair. Jimmy stepped from the patio, his
freckled skin looking pale in the sunlight. He plodded down the
length of his driveway with a spring in his step, his portly body
bouncing toward the street. Daniel had never seen Jimmy walk that
way before, like a small child with too much energy.

Daniel waved as Jimmy stepped onto the
sidewalk and headed toward the bus stop. He knew Jimmy wouldn't
return the gesture, probably even make fun of him for waving like a
little kid, but he was so relieved to see his friend alive, he
didn't care. Jimmy smiled at him—a closed lip, timid smile. Not his
usual shit-eating grin. Then he extended his chubby hand into the
air and waved.

Daniel waited for his friend to reach the
street corner. "Uh... hey. How's it goin'?" he asked.

"Hi!" Jimmy opened his hand and wiggled his
fingers in the air, waving a second time. He smiled with his mouth
closed and shoved his hands into his pockets. This wasn't like
Jimmy, whose grin often reminded Daniel of the Mad Hatter, who
tossed pebbles and drew invisible pictures on the pavement with
sticks, anything to keep his hands busy. It was odd to see him
standing there: quietly, patiently.

"So about last night..." Daniel began.

"Oh, I know. I regret my actions, Daniel.
Vandalizing property like that.... and taking candy from those
children. It was terrible of me, and I apologize."

Daniel's mouth hung open as he attempted to
respond. He blinked his eyes and slowly shook his head. "No...
uh... the other part of the night. That house."

"Ah, yes. It was wonderful! I'm so sorry you
couldn't stay."

Daniel's skin crawled with unease as he
studied his friend. By every physical law, Jimmy Hannigan stood
before him. The same voice. The same hazel eyes and rotund,
freckled face. But something had changed. Those eyes lacked a
certain twinkle that made Jimmy so very...
Jimmy
.

"It's a beautiful day, Daniel. I think I'll
walk to school." Jimmy turned and began to walk away, and that's
when Daniel knew. This wasn't Jimmy. He never walked to school
instead of taking the bus. He never did anything the hard way. And
the apologies. Two apologies in one morning. Jimmy never said
sorry... for anything. Not once in the entirety of their
friendship.

Daniel watched Jimmy disappear down the
sidewalk, and he felt as though his best friend had died. The bus
rolled up, filling the air with exhaust fumes. A set of yellow
doors swung open. Daniel shook his head and boarded the bus,
feeling more alone than ever. He knew, the evil eaters had changed
Jimmy. They had sucked the Jimmy right out of his soul.

A tear rolled down Daniel's cheek. He wiped
it with the back of his hand. Thirty-six years later it still
bothered him to remember that strange Halloween. Jimmy Hannigan had
disappeared that night, replaced by a shell of a boy.

Daniel stood at the foot of his mother's bed.
He stared blankly at the red card that looked so much like Jimmy
Hannigan's invitation. It was identical in every way, except for
the words:

"Do you have a troubled child? Do you pray
they will change their incorrigible ways? Look no further. We are a
group of mystery men who guarantee results within the week. 100%
pain free. Your child will not be harmed. We work swiftly and
discreetly. Enjoy your family life. Have a loving child again. Sign
the dotted line and return to the nearest mailbox. (No postage is
required.)"

Jimmy's parents had received the same card as
his mother. In that moment, Daniel knew it was true. All the
parents of the “bad kids” were offered an easy fix. Teddy, Sally,
Dennis, Johnny: they never stood a chance.

Jimmy Hannigan had graduated with honors and
went on to college. He had started a family and made his parents
proud. He probably sat in an office somewhere, making good money
but lacking a soul.
And that is the most valuable thing of
all
, thought Daniel. Just ask the evil eaters.

Daniel walked the card over to the box marked
"keep". It would serve as an important reminder. His mother had
protected him, accepted him, even when offered an easy
solution.

He hadn't failed her. She had always been
proud.

The Patch

Steve rolled to a stop at a fork in the road
and turned to Aiyana. She blinked her warm, mahogany eyes, lips
painted a glossy red. He couldn't fathom why she wanted to spend
their first date out here in the middle of nowhere, but he was
grateful that she did.

“Which way?” he asked. She nodded to the
right, and he eased the old truck around the bend.

A legion of crickets chirped as they passed
haphazard rows of pumpkins. The Autumn breeze was crisp. It carried
the ripe, earthy scent of crops and rustled the leaves on their
vines. The pumpkins seemed to grow taller and fatter the deeper
into the patch they drove.

His gaze drifted once again to Aiyana. She
was dressed as a Native American princess, and she looked every bit
the part. Her high cheek bones and sable hair, stunning eyebrows
and dark olive skin really tied the costume together. She sat with
her feet propped up on the dash, wiggling her toes, and Steve
fought the urge to trace the curves of her legs with his eyes.

“Great costume.”

“Thanks. Real original, huh?” She giggled. “I
never celebrated Halloween as a kid, so when it comes to dressing
up, I guess I decided to stick with what's familiar.” She looked
down at her toes. “It's sad, really, if you think about it. To see
the bead-work, the beautiful fringed pelts and handwoven garments
of my people reduced to this... a cheap cotton miniskirt with
knotted tassels and an elastic headband with artificial feathers
glued to the front.” She rolled her eyes. “The package even said
'Sexy Indian'.”

Steve wasn't sure how to respond, so he
watched the pumpkins roll by outside his window. They looked
plumper and rounder as they traveled. He'd seen a photo of a
2,000-pound pumpkin once, and he thought some of these looked just
as big, if not bigger.

He wondered how much further they had to go.
Aiyana had insisted on coming here. She said the stars shined
brighter in the middle of this field than anywhere else in
Michigan. Yet, something about being alone with these gourds, which
were five and even ten times his size... it unnerved him.

“So—uh—what tribe did your family belong
to?”

“Not 'did'. We
are
Wyandot.
Grandfather reminds me every day. Most of my ancestors were forced
to move during the Indian Removal Act of 1830, but those of us who
remain strive to honor our heritage.”

He shook his head. “I'm sorry to hear that.
About your family moving away.”

She looked at him, the side of her mouth
forming a half-smirk. She leaned close and put a hand on his thigh.
“I like you,” she whispered in his ear.

Lightning flickered, illuminating the clouds.
Steve recognized it as heat lightning, because it wasn't
accompanied by rain or thunder. The night sky flashed like a strobe
light behind rows of enormous pumpkins. The wind picked up,
whipping the leaves.

Steve's skin tingled where she touched him.
Her fingers felt amazing, even through his jeans. He wondered how
much further he had to drive. She nuzzled her soft hair against his
shoulder, and her closeness made his heart begin to pound.

That's when he noticed it—a strange movement
in the fields. The pumpkins seemed to swell and pulsate, throbbing
in time with his heart. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, but the
motion continued, a rhythmic vibration up and down the rows.

They came to a clearing at the end of the
road. Massive pumpkins formed a circle around it. Steve couldn't
see anything beyond those giant gourds, and he suddenly felt very
small. He barely had time to put the truck in park and kill the
engine before Aiyana sprang from her seat, leaving the door hanging
open.

She danced through the clearing, heading for
a large, flat stone near its center. Her hips swayed, body
undulating to the tempo of the strange, silent lightning that lit
up the clouds. And the clouds, they swirled unnaturally fast.

And then—he couldn't believe it—Aiyana
gripped the bottom of her brown halter top and yanked it over her
head. She stood atop the flat rock, topless and dancing. She
beckoned with her finger for Steve to come.

He practically leaped from the truck. He
approached her, stepping onto the stone.

She wiggled her hips, moved close to him.
“You're not shy,” he said, smiling.

“No, I am proud to be woman.” She lifted her
chin. “Wyandot legend says that the first human was a woman who
fell from the heavens.”

“Just like you,” he said. She grinned at him,
gyrating her hips.

The lightning flashed, casting eerie shadows
across her features. Her rhythmic movements were fluid and
hypnotic. Steve couldn't look away. “This woman who fell from the
sky, she gave birth to a daughter who gave birth to twin boys. One
of the boys was evil and decided to kill his mother during
childbirth.” She smiled. “I know, this all sounds like nonsense,
but my favorite part is next...” She did a spin, then faced him
again. “The first crops sprang from her body when she was buried in
the earth. Maize from her chest. Beans from her legs. And the
pumpkins... they grew from her head.”

Aiyana threw herself into the dance. All
around, the pumpkins thumped like the beating of a thousand hearts.
Their steady rhythm grew louder.

Her eyes rolled. She whipped her head from
side to side and shook her ass, arms pumping to the beat of the
crops as they pulsed, vines swelling and deflating like
arteries.

Steve broke a sweat, no longer turned on, but
terrified. “Maybe we should go,” he said, pointing to the sky.
“Heat lightning is a warning that a storm is coming.”

She slowed her movement enough to steady her
breathing. “Do you know why that's my favorite part, Steve? About
the crops growing from her body?” She glared at him, and the
lightning flickered, distorting her beauty into something sinister.
Her bare breasts glistened with sweat.

She moved close, and he found himself unable
to avoid her predatory advance. She was on him in an instant, hot
breath in his ear canal. Her lips caressed his ear lobe as she
whispered, “Because it's just like these crops.”

She pulled away... stared at him. Her pupils
swirled, two black pits of madness. “You see, my family has an
arrangement with the crops. They grow big and ripe every year, and
in return we offer a sacrifice.”

Something like regret wrinkled her brow. “I'm
sorry it has to be you.”

Her palms slammed into his chest, and he flew
back, landing a few feet from the rock with his ass against the
cold, hard earth. He was dead center of the clearing; he realized
that now, and the vines... they moved like snakes through the
grass, slithering away from the pumpkins and into the brush. Tall
weeds shook from side to side as the vines came at him from every
direction, moving through the grass so fast he didn't have time to
react.

They coiled around his ankles, inching up his
shins. They twined around his wrists. He screamed and tried to
struggle free, but he was no match for their speed and
strength.

The grip on his limbs tightened as Steve was
pulled in every direction. A vine slithered down his throat, but it
didn't silence his screams. He shrieked and writhed and only fell
silent once his appendages were torn from his torso, body ripped to
bloody pieces. The gory chunks of meat were dragged down into the
hungry soil.

Aiyana frowned. She didn't enjoy watching him
die, but Steve would live on through the crops. She'd been raised
to respect the land, to tend it and feed it. She only did what had
to be done.

Her name had meant “eternal bloom” in those
early days, when her people had roamed the wild plains. Her
ancestors were gone, many forgotten, but their gods still held
dominion over earth. As long as her family's land continued to
thrive, she would continue to sate the gods.

And this land would thrive as long as she
lived.

The
Woman In The Niqab

If you're reading this email, you’ve been
selected as the new night auditor of the Ladford Inn.
Congratulations... I suppose. My memories of the hotel are mostly
fond ones, with the exception of my final week, when I decided I’d
rather take my chances in the unemployment line. Here's to hoping
you are spared the misery of the chilling encounters that sent me
running from the Ladford with my pride dragging behind me like a
dead dog.