Mary and Steve slowed to an eventual stop in front of the dilapidated house. Its yard was overgrown with thick, tall weeds peaking above the shabby patches of grass and clover. Dandelions forced their way through a once fully rocked driveway, now more dirt and weeds than pebbles and stones. The house itself had several broken windows with blankets, not curtains, hung inside. Each of the shudders were at different angles, and there were multiple pockmarks of paint deterioration across the face of the sixty some-odd year old house. A pile of junk containing a broken office chair, cracked porcelain toilet, and several brown grocery bags full of tiles was next to the mailbox. Still, it had…
“Potential!” Steve exclaimed as he exited the SUV and framed the house between his rectangle hands.
“Oh for sure,” Mary agreed as she joined him outside. The SUV chirped its horn and the two swept in closer to peak through windows. Mary listed the plusses, “A sturdy foundation. Look at that roof! These windows will come right out.”
Steve loved hearing his young wife so confident and knowledgeable.
“And I’ll get the boys in here to disembowel that entire kitchen,” he pointed through a broken hole in the window. He moved aside the interior blanket carefully to view the tiny, classic looking kitchen. It had countertops that looked like the exterior of a watermelon. “We’ll toss those countertops first,” he said dismissively.
“And how much did you say they wanted?” Mary asked, already knowing the answer.
“Seventy grand. A steal, and we’ll talk them down at least ten more grand.”
“And then we’ll sell it for two hundred thousand!”
“Maybe even two fifty!”
Mary grabbed Steve’s hand and turned him so he faced her. She pecked his cheek, then his lips, then attacked him with a double armed hug. He leaned back to support her weight and she kicked up her feet. The two spun around for a bit and whooped in celebration of their encroaching steal and deal.
Mid spin, something caught Steve’s eye. Some small figures dashing around their SUV. He gently placed Mary down and walked towards his SUV, removing his sunglasses.
“Oh, hey, careful around that please!” he said with cautious assertiveness. Mary couldn’t see who he was talking to at first, but then found the targets, two small children, a boy and a girl. The boy had a mullet with the short portion buzzed and the long portion scraggly and unkempt. He was wearing a torn thick grey blazer that was too large for his little frame and was mounted on a bike too small for him. The girl had long, straight red hair, a pale face, and large brown eyes. She had almost translucent skin, like a fresh born reptile, and you could see the blue of her veins through it.
“They’re just kids, Steve,” Mary said quietly as the couple approached the SUV.
“I know, I know, they were just going a little fast, wouldn’t want them to get hurt.”
“Who gonna get hurt, ya think mister?” the girl barked loudly at Steve, with a rancid southern accent that was barely English. She posed on her scooter proudly and looked over to her brother, who was on the other side of the vehicle, out of view. “Ay brother, they think yer gunna hurt yerself, huh?”
“Ay sister, not me, I ain’t gunna hurt muhself!” he said, revealing himself. He stood up on his bike and pumped a few staircase steps to zoom away faster.
The girl approached the couple and immediately got too close. She darted in front of them and stopped, much like a cat trying to trip its owner because that’s what cats do.
“You pretty!” the girl said, smiling at Mary.
Mary began to respond to the flattery, “Thank–”
“PRETTY UGLY!” the boy screeched as he zoomed behind them too close and too fast. The siblings laughed uproariously.
“Ok, well…careful now. Let us through to our car please.”
“Ya’ll gotta flat,” the girl said without looking up.
“WHAT!?” Steve circled around to the driver’s side, and sure enough, the front tire was flat. “We just got these put on,” he said. Mary was behind him gripping his shoulders with a gentle massage for both their comfort.
“What’s that?” she pointed at something sticking out of the tire.
Steve moved closer. It was a small, rusted pocket knife. The dull blade inserted into the tread, creating a large crack in the rubber.
The boy skidded to a stop next to Steve. It barely missed kicking a dirt cloud into his face. Steve stood up and dusted off his hands. He hesitated, but proceeded to ask,
“Did you–”
“Steve!” Mary chided.
Steve redirected the question, “-See who did this?”
Out of nowhere, another boy skidded to a stop next to them. This boy was chubby, with a short flattop and rat tail. He had freckles and a large snout-like nose. If there ever was a boy that looked like a stereotypical bully, it was this kid.
“We ain’t seen nuthin, mister.”
Steve looked around to find Mary. Two more girls had appeared and were pulling and dragging Mary away, towards the house.
“You HAVE to come see this!” one of them exclaimed as the other laughed with a glee.
Mary laughed nervously and shot a look of bewilderment at Steve.
“Maybe next time. We need to fix our tire now…”
They persisted and led Mary back into the house’s messy yard with light tugs and saccharine sweet begging.
“There! There it is! Isn’t it the coolest!?” They pointed at something, some brownish black heap in the grass.
Mary’s face went white as her hand covered her mouth involuntarily.
Back at the car, Steve gathered the jack and tools from the trunk of the vehicle. Behind him, another boy appeared.
“My daddy can fix dat for ya,” the boy said while scratching at a small scab on his face.
“It’s fine, I’ve got a jack and a spare, it’ll just take a minute.”
One of the kids mocked him from a distance, “iT’s FinE, i’Ve gotTa JaCk…”
Several more kids burst into screeches of laughter. The whine of their rubber bike tires on the ground began to sound like a swarm of bees. As Steve opened the trunk, a kid breathing loudly through his open mouth leaned on the gate. The boy’s soda bottle glasses followed every move Steve made. Steve did his best to ignore the unsettling boy, and grabbed the jack and toolbox.
“What’s that?” the boy asked.
“That’s my toolbox, I need a specific wrench–”
“What’s that?”
“A–a tool to–”
“What’s that?”
Other boys had closed in on the SUV and joined in repeating the chant.
“What’s that?What’s that?What’s that?” they yelled.
Steve, stressed and more than a little concerned, slammed the trunk shut and did his best to ignore the increasing horde of children. They seemed to be multiplying. He was now counting about ten, maybe fifteen children. Racing on bikes and scooters, fidgeting and laughing, crowding and cornering.
Mary speed walked back to the SUV with her eyes wide and hair frazzled. As she did, she stopped abruptly to avoid being slammed into by a speeding kid on rollerskates. She angry-whispered to Steve, “WE. NEED. TO. GO. NOW. They showed me a dead squirrel, Steve. They picked it up and played with it!”
As she said that, a blur on a bike whisked by and checked her, this time knocking her off balance. She stumbled into Steve, who caught her.
“Leave us alone or we’ll call your parents!” he yelled.
Steve grabbed Mary’s hand and began trying to walk away.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“We just need to get away from them. Get somewhere safe.”
As they power-walked away, more kids appeared, a crowd of thirty plus now. The children were in tattered clothes, with dirt and mud splotches on their faces. When they smiled, their teeth were either missing or deeply yellow. Their eyes were bloodshot, and many had visible scratches and wounds.
They zipped back and forth, throwing rocks and sticks and items found in Steve’s toolbox. Steve finally decided to drop any pretense and began trying to fully sprint, pulling Mary along. But kids grabbed onto their legs and ankles, as other kids on bikes raced by, slapping and throwing things as they zoomed past them.
“Stop it, please!”
“Somebody help!”
As Steve yelled for help, a driveby hammer smacked him in his temple, knocking him down. Mary knelt down to help him back up.
“C’mon, we have to go!” she cried.
He couldn’t form a response though. His eyes rolled and his eyelids fluttered. Blood streamed from his hair and onto his forehead and face. The children cackled with excitement. Mary’s eyes darted around, couldn’t someone see they needed help? But there was no one there, no one but hundreds of children now. Where did they all come from!? She saw the girl, the first girl on the scooter. And her brother was helping her on to his bike. He handed her a large, long stick. It looked like a broom stick, sharpened at the tip.
She raised the stick up above her head and announced for all to hear, “Watch this!” She stood up and started pumping the pedals as fast and as hard as she could. She braced the stick under her arm, sharp tip facing Mary. She barreled toward Mary, like a medieval knight jousting.
“Watch this!”
garrettkbrown 