Post by Babu Baboon on Oct 17, 2013 7:02:45 GMT -6
Agony. Total agony. That was all Winston Tate knew these days as he occupied the single, iron framed bed in the hospital ward of Hartsdale prison. His once corpulent form now lay emaciated from the cancer that riddled his body.
He used to try to take his mind from the pain by watching the green line of the EKG as it traced its way across the monitor. That was before the sickness took his sight. Now, all he could do was lay there and feel it growing within him. He could hear the nurses and orderlies as they talked about him, their comments ranging anywhere from sympathy to indifference. He could see where it would become easy to turn a blind eye to the suffering around them. Most of the inmates who wound up here deserved what they got.
How had fate brought him to this, though? All he had ever wanted to do was make children happy with his toys. Now they called him a criminal. Him! He had given his whole life to trying to make children happy and this was his reward. Dying in prison, alone and afraid, lying in his own filth. This was not how he used to think he would go. There was a time when he had imagined dying in his sleep, next to his beloved wife.
"You feel you deserve better," he suddenly heard a voice say. He let out a gasp, trying in vain to peer through sightless eyes for the speaker.
"Here, let me help." He felt the close proximity of a hand as it waved over his eyes. The cataracts suddenly seemed to melt away and he saw a man dressed in a sharp red suit standing by his bed. It wasn't perfect sight, but it was sight nonetheless. It looked as if he were seeing him through a haze of heated air, as if they were in the desert. He had a thick mane of blond hair and he was almost sinister in his handsomeness.
"Who are you?" Tate croaked. "How did you get in here?"
"There are few in this world immune to my charms," the man smiled. "As to who I am, I'm sure in your heart of heart, you already know."
"Are… are you here to take me…" Winston gasped. “For what I did to my store?”
"Arson is hardly one of the seven deadly sins. But no," he smiled. "A soul such as yours you don't take all at once. It is to be savored.
"Mine? But why?"
Because your soul was once one that could once have been called `good'. `Kindly', even. It was life…. The death of your wife and the failure of your business that drove you to your crime and twisted your soul into its current shape… made it bitter. And that makes it all the more special to me. Even in its current state, it’s debatable whether or not sure he would let me have you." The handsome man pointed upward to indicate who ‘he’ was. “Sure, you tried to cheat your insurance company, but he’s forgiven far worse. And there’s the matter of all those sweet, apple cheeked little children you made so happy all those years.”
“The children forgot about me. It’s all video games and flash these days.” The dying toymaker said, grimacing through his pain.
“But you never forgot them,” the handsome man said. “You would give anything to be able to do for them again, I bet.” He lifted up a colorful teddy bear that rested on the bedside table. He smiled down at the lavender furred bear. "One of yours?"
No," Winston swallowed painfully. "I haven't been able to make toys for quite some time. Some… good hearted person probably felt that might ease my suffering."
The blond man chuckled. "Ah yes. No matter how horrific the crimes of the wretches who populate this place, there will always be someone out there willing to take pity on them in their moment of need. I wonder if the one who put this here knew it would be a constant reminder to you of what you've lost."
"If I'm not dead yet, why are you here?" Tate coughed angrily. "You'll probably have me to torment for all time eventually. Can't you wait?"
"I'm not here to torment you," the blond man said. "The opposite in fact. I'm here to give you your heart's desire. To put you back in touch with that for which you are most passionate. Your toys." He reached inside his jacket and pulled out an old fashioned scroll and feather quill. He unrolled the scroll to reveal a contract. "Do you accept?"
Winston gulped painfully before giving his answer. "….I…."
A sad feeling came over Nurse Claire Burch as she stared at the empty hospital bed. Most of the patients in the hospital ward ended up there as a result of their own violent nature. It was rare that a patient came along whose death touched her anymore. He looked so kindly and frail… so different from the usual monsters who populated the place. She had heard that he had burned down his own store. His passion for toy-making had died with his wife, so he had neglected the only thing he had left… his Toyshop. When it looked like the bank might take it, he had burned it to the ground.
Frank, one of the security guards, came up beside her. She was glad it was him. She wouldn’t have felt comfortable with any of the others seeing her so choked up about one of the prisoners.
"At least he went out on a good note,” Frank said.
"What do you mean?" Claire asked, aghast. The man had died horribly, after all.
"Turns out he had a whole lot of old toys left in storage.”
“Wouldn’t the bank take those to auction off?” Claire asked.
“No, he left it all to the Children's Hospital unit for the care and treatment of children with terminal illnesses. Yanking toys out of the hands of sick kids wasn’t exactly something they wanted tied to their name, so they let it be known they were complying with his final wish for them to be donated. Everybody wins.”
“Everybody wins,” Claire echoed sadly, looking down at the empty bed.
Later that night, as Claire helped the new occupant into the bed, she noticed the stuff bear that had been left sitting in the chair beside the bed. As far as she knew, the toy bear had been the only tenant the chair had ever known. She hoped it had at least brought him some comfort, making him feel a little less alone in his last hours.
She lifted the bear up and stared at it. She was surprised that it hadn't been taken to the children's hospital with the rest of his toys. How had they managed to overlook it?
The end of her shift was near, so she headed towards the locker area, carrying the stuffed bear with her. She decided no one would mind if she took it home to her daughter, Natalie. The girl had been so sullen and quiet, lately. Perhaps this would cheer her up.
After removing her duffel bag from her locker, she changed out of her uniform, into her street clothes and placed the bear on top of her uniform before zipping the bag shut
Claire let out a sigh as she pulled into the driveway beside her small house. The lawn was still un-mowed. She had asked Mel every day for the past five days to mow the lawn. Every day he had said he would. It made it harder for her to defend him to her parents when he did so little to reassure her own faith in him.
She slammed the door to her old station wagon and walked inside. Naturally, the door was unlocked for anyone who might want to get in. God forbid Mel should actually go out of his way to protect his chosen family.
"You left the door unlocked," she said sullenly as she walked in, finding Mel sitting on the couch in his t-shirt and boxers, eating cereal and watching TV.
"Well, hello to you, too," he said.
"I've asked you to not do that."
"Hey, I'm right here if anyone tried to get in," he said.
"What if they had guns?"
"Then I'd imagine they could shoot the lock. One deadbolt isn't gonna stop anyone who really wanted in."
Claire sighed. "How about the lawn? I've been asking you to take care of that for days now. I'm sure the neighbors are talking."
"Ah, I don't care what they think." He burped.
"Maybe you don't, but I do," Claire snapped.
"Hey, you asked me to find a job, too. How am I my supposed to do that if I'm out there playing yard boy?" Mel said.
"So you've been looking?"
"I looked at the want ads, anyway," Mel said. "Didn't see nothin' that excited me."
You mean you couldn't find anything in all those ads?" Claire said. "The Sunday paper is full of jobs!"
"Not in my field!" he said. "I've got special skills!"
"Yeah, well the bills are piling up while you're waiting for something to come along for those special skills of yours," she grumbled.
"Well, you're doing alright, aren't you?" he said. "Taking the night shift for those flex hours is paying pretty good. You keep doing that and we should be okay."
"Self centered jackass," Claire said, storming out of the room.
"Hey, watch that mouth of yours," Mel called out, looking over his shoulder, "so's I don't have to watch it for you."
Claire let out a sigh as she peaked in on Natalie. Sometimes, it felt as if the only sight she got to see of her little girl these days was her sleeping head poking out from under the bed sheets. She started to slowly close the door when she heard Natalie's voice call out, "Mom? Is that you?"
"Yes, Sweetie," Claire said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." She walked in and sat down on the edge of Natalie's bed and stroked her hair lovingly. "I brought you something." She handed Natalie the colorful teddy bear with the heart in the center of its white belly.
A large smile crossed the usually sullen girl's face. Thank you, mom!" A serious look crossed her face again. "Mom, when are you going to get another job?"
"What?" Claire said, startled. "Why would you ask me something like that?"
"I don't like being here with just Mel," Natalie said.
"We've been through this before," Claire said. You need to learn to get along with him. He's going to be your stepfather some day.
"I sure hope not," Natalie said.
"Natalie!"
"But all he does is sit on the couch and drink beer and boss me around! And he..."
"I know things are hard right now, but they'll get better someday," Claire said, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. "You'll see. Now you lie back down and try to get some more rest. You've got school tomorrow."
"But he..."
"Not another word," Clair said. "You need to get some rest."
As Clair closed the door, Natalie laid her head back down on the pillow. Her eyes stayed open, though, as she clutched the bear to her. If only her mother would listen to her.
Mel looked at his watch. It had been nearly an hour since Claire left for the night shift at the prison hospital. She should be pretty far away by now, he thought. He pushed the power button on the remote control to switch the TV off, sat his beer can on the end table by the sofa and rose from the couch, heading towards Natalie's room.
The door slid open and Natalie let out a sigh as her head rose up and she saw Mel's silhouette in the doorway. She burrowed her head further into the covers, trying to pretend to be asleep. It was too
late, though. He had already seen her looking at him.
Mel walked over, rested his hands on the side of her bed and said, "Wakie wakie. C'mon, I know you're not asleep, so drop the charade."
"Go away, Mel," Natalie said.
"What's it going to take for you to start calling me Daddy," Mel said.
"You're not my Daddy," Natalie said. "And I didn't call him daddy. I called him Dad. ‘Daddy’ is for babies," Natalie said.
"That's right," Mel said. "And you're a big girl. Old enough to take on big girl responsibilities."
A feeling of dread came into Natalie's stomach. She knew where the conversation was going.
"Your Mom is a busy woman. So she's let a lot of things around here slide at home. There are things she used to do for me that she doesn't do any longer. It's time for you to step up and be the woman of the house now."
Natalie rose up and said sharply, "I told you I don't want to play the married game with you, Mel!"
"Where do you get off talking to an adult like that?" Mel said, his face changing from the pleasant facade to the snarl Natalie was more used to. "My dad woulda beaten me black and blue if I ever raised my voice to him like that." Damn the kid could get to him. In the background, he could hear a growl coming from some nature show on TV. He thought to himself that it was just how he felt.
"Go away and leave me alone!" Natalie snapped.
"I think it's time I taught you to respect your elders, kiddo," Mel said through gritted teeth. "Then I'm gonna show you how to pull your weight around here."
Suddenly, a wide eyed expression crossed Natalie's face and she started to shriek.
Mel smiled. This was the first time she'd ever acted afraid of him despite his best efforts. Maybe this would be easier than he thought after all. She let out another scream and he started to be afraid that the neighbors would hear. Those damn schools were always telling kids to scream their damn heads off at strangers or anyone else doing something they didn't like. He hoped all the growling from the TV would cover it up. It was really starting to get loud.
A sick feeling came to him as he started to reach for Natalie. He had turned the TV off.
A large, menacing silhouette crossed the wall and a shadow fell over Mel and Natalie. He turned and looked behind him and screamed.
Natalie shrieked once more as she and the wall behind her were spattered with his blood.
Frank sipped his coffee as he drove back from the prison. He clutched the Styrofoam cup of gas station decaf for warmth. He would be glad when bonus time came around so he could get the heater fixed. That was the main reason he didn’t offer to carpool with Claire even though they lived in the same neighborhood. He already felt big, clumsy, old and foolish whenever he was around her. Why add to the embarrassment?
As he approached her house on the way to his, he let out a startled gasp as he saw the flashing lights of a police car. “What the hell?”
He quickly pulled over to the side of the road and leapt out of his car, nearly spilling hot coffee on himself.
The large man ran over to where he saw his nephew, Stan, standing with other police officers on the scene. As hyped up as he was on adrenaline, a voice in the back of his mind still managed to go, “Oh great.” Stan had been his favorite nephew at one time and he had been his favorite uncle. Ever since the boy had graduated college with a criminal justice degree and made it through the police academy, an attitude had developed towards Stan’s prison guard uncle. As much as he hated to confront Stan while he was ‘on duty’, he had to know what happened.
“Stan!” he called out. “Stan!”
Stan’s body language seemed to give a non-verbal sigh. “Hi, Uncle Frank,” Stan said with barely contained irritation at the interruption. “Look, this isn’t a good time…”
Frank waived off Stan’s attempt at a dismissal and snapped, “I’ve …. I’ve gotta know what happened here. This house belongs to a …a …. Friend of mine….”
Catching the meaning of Frank’s words, Stan gestured to Frank to follow him. They walked through the busted door, past cops who were taking photos of the overturned furniture in the house.
“So what happened, Stan?” Frank asked again.
“Something ripped Mel Harper to shreds.”
“That bum?” Frank said, not bothering to hide his disgust. “Probably owed somebody money.”
“Nah,” Stan said. “From all signs, it was some sort of animal.”
“A wild animal?” Frank exclaimed. “In the suburbs?”
“I know. I know,” Stan said. “The question is where did it come from?”
Frank looked around. “There doesn’t seem to be any sign of forced entry. He looked back at the front door. “If anything…. It looks like something …. Busted out.”
Stan’s eyes widened in surprise at his uncle’s observation. “Yeah, we caught that. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Not a lot does these days,” Frank said. “Think it could have been one of those types of nut-jobs you hear about on TV? Maybe one broke in and waited for him?”
“I hope this isn’t that sort of case,” Stan said with a pained expression. “… Mel was a nobody.” From his pained expression, Stan was considering the possibility. “…and why would they leave the girl alone?”
Frank followed Stan’s glance to the small kitchen area where Claire sat with her daughter in her lap. The little girl had her head tucked in her mother’s shoulder as Claire stroked her hair soothingly.
“It’s all my fault,” the girl cried.
“No, it’s not,” Claire said.
“Yes it is!” the girl insisted. “I kept praying something would happen to take him away.”
“That doesn’t make it your fault,” Claire choked. “Mel was …. just a bad man. I just had no idea how bad.”
“You don’t understand,” the girl sniffed. “I prayed that something would come and take him away. Then when he came in and tried to do stuff with me, Mr. Bear came to life and killed him.”
A confused Stan mouthed, “Mr. Bear?” to Frank. Frank looked at Claire.
She looked up with a dismayed expression. “The Mr. Bear Natalie was talking about …. was the stuffed bear from the hospital. The one that had belonged to the dying toymaker.”
“Well, obviously the toy bear didn’t come to life and kill the guy. The poor kid is in shock,” Stan said. That’s the only explanation.”
“The feds are on their way,” one of the other cops called out. “They’ve already found like about a half a dozen thrill-killers with a similar M.O.”
“Maybe our wild animal walks on two legs after all,” Stan said.
Thirty minutes later, the block was filled with cars from both the local police and the FBI. Officers from both combed the streets. Stan’s group split up, determined that it would be one of them who found whatever it was they were looking for first.
“I can’t believe this,” Frank said. “I was planning on retiring and moving south in another year. Now here I am on a hunt for a serial killer.”
“You should be back at the house,” Stan said.
“Nothin’ doin’, Junior,” Frank said. “That lady back there means a great deal to me…. Even if I haven’t had the guts to tell her… if she’s in any danger…”
“If she means that much to you, then you should be back there with her,” Stan snapped. I can’t have any civilians …. Stan stopped as the steely determined look in Frank’s eyes told him it was no use. He’d be out here searching, too, with or without him. At least this way he could keep an eye on him. “Ah hell … you at least got a license for that thing?” he said, gesturing to the rifle in Frank had pulled from the trunk of his car as soon as the search was announced.
“What? Of course I do,” Frank laughed. “You’ve been on enough hunting trips with me as a kid that you should recognize this gun.”
“Yeah,” Stan smiled. “Now that you mention it, I do.”
There was a sudden crash and both men turned in the direction of the sound. The instincts that had brought Frank back from the jungles of Viet Nam suddenly kicked in and he moved towards the direction of the noise.
“Probably just a stray dog,” Stan said. “We should still check it out, though.”
“Have to be a pretty big damn dog,” Frank said.
They both moved into the narrow walkway between two weathered looking houses and were cast in the deep shadows of dusk. Only an hour earlier, streetlights would still have been lit, offering better visibility.
“Christ,” Stan said with a grimace, stepping in front of his uncle to lead the way into the dark space between the houses. He reached to his belt and pulled out his flashlight. “If anyone is there, come out with your hands above your head so we can see them.”
No one exited the alley, though. After a pregnant pause, there was another crash.
“Damn,” Stan cursed before pushing ahead, followed by Frank. “Who’s there?” he called out into the shadows. He traced the interior of the alley with his flashlight. The alley was bisected by a tall wooden fence. Garbage cans rested at either end. Debris lined the sides of the alley, including an old sofa and a king sized mattress.
A stray cat darted out from behind one of the cans, startling them. Both of them let out a nervous laugh and Frank slapped his nephew on the back. “Whew! I think we both just lost a few years there.”
There was suddenly another rustle and then the mattress fell away. At first, Frank thought he was looking at a bundled brightly colored shag rug or an enormous bean bag chair …. until a growl began to issue forth from that direction. The lavender colored mass suddenly began to rise up and began to turn.
Both Stan and Frank gaped in shock as they found themselves confronted with nothing less than the visage of a 7 foot long lavender grizzly bear with a white belly centered with a red heart shaped mark.
The grizzly let out another loud growl and swiped its right paw down at them. Stan dove out of its path, crashing into the trash cans. Frank fired straight into the heart shape on its belly as if it were a target at a shooting gallery. Both men were suddenly startled to find their vision clouded by a shower of what looked like snow.
Frank threw up his arm to protect his eyes and something hit his hands. When he opened his eyes, he looked down and saw that it was filled with polyester fiberfill stuffing. Frank and Stan looked back to where the grizzly had been. Instead of an animal corpse, they saw the torn remains of Mr. Bear.
That evening, the streets of that block were quiet once more. That is, except for the house of Bobby Addison, lying on the other side of the tall wooden fence.
The street light outside cast a path through his window, across his toy covered dresser, to the end of the bed in which he lay, silently weeping. On this night, like most, he listened to the sound of shouting voices coming from downstairs and shook with fear of what was to come.
“Is it too much to ask to come home to a clean house and a hot meal after I’ve been at work all day?” a male voice shouted.
“I did clean!” a frightened female voice cried.
“You call this clean?” the man shouted. “There’s shit stacked up here… “ crash… “Shit stacked up here”… another crash” …. “Here…”...Crash…
“Stop it…” Bobby moaned.
“And to top it all off, my damn food’s cold!!”
“If you’d just come home straight from work instead of going out or at least call…” the female voice cried.
“Oh, now you’re gonna give me lip on top of everything?” the man shouted. “That’s it! “ The air was filled with the sound of crashing, hitting, and anguished sobs.
“Stop it!” Bobby cried, burying his head under his pillow. “Stop hurting her!”
His eyes covered, he did not see as his army soldier figure suddenly turned its head in his direction, giving a salute. It cocked its service rifle and jumped from the top of his dresser to the floor. Marching towards the doorway, it grew taller and more realistic with every step.
He used to try to take his mind from the pain by watching the green line of the EKG as it traced its way across the monitor. That was before the sickness took his sight. Now, all he could do was lay there and feel it growing within him. He could hear the nurses and orderlies as they talked about him, their comments ranging anywhere from sympathy to indifference. He could see where it would become easy to turn a blind eye to the suffering around them. Most of the inmates who wound up here deserved what they got.
How had fate brought him to this, though? All he had ever wanted to do was make children happy with his toys. Now they called him a criminal. Him! He had given his whole life to trying to make children happy and this was his reward. Dying in prison, alone and afraid, lying in his own filth. This was not how he used to think he would go. There was a time when he had imagined dying in his sleep, next to his beloved wife.
"You feel you deserve better," he suddenly heard a voice say. He let out a gasp, trying in vain to peer through sightless eyes for the speaker.
"Here, let me help." He felt the close proximity of a hand as it waved over his eyes. The cataracts suddenly seemed to melt away and he saw a man dressed in a sharp red suit standing by his bed. It wasn't perfect sight, but it was sight nonetheless. It looked as if he were seeing him through a haze of heated air, as if they were in the desert. He had a thick mane of blond hair and he was almost sinister in his handsomeness.
"Who are you?" Tate croaked. "How did you get in here?"
"There are few in this world immune to my charms," the man smiled. "As to who I am, I'm sure in your heart of heart, you already know."
"Are… are you here to take me…" Winston gasped. “For what I did to my store?”
"Arson is hardly one of the seven deadly sins. But no," he smiled. "A soul such as yours you don't take all at once. It is to be savored.
"Mine? But why?"
Because your soul was once one that could once have been called `good'. `Kindly', even. It was life…. The death of your wife and the failure of your business that drove you to your crime and twisted your soul into its current shape… made it bitter. And that makes it all the more special to me. Even in its current state, it’s debatable whether or not sure he would let me have you." The handsome man pointed upward to indicate who ‘he’ was. “Sure, you tried to cheat your insurance company, but he’s forgiven far worse. And there’s the matter of all those sweet, apple cheeked little children you made so happy all those years.”
“The children forgot about me. It’s all video games and flash these days.” The dying toymaker said, grimacing through his pain.
“But you never forgot them,” the handsome man said. “You would give anything to be able to do for them again, I bet.” He lifted up a colorful teddy bear that rested on the bedside table. He smiled down at the lavender furred bear. "One of yours?"
No," Winston swallowed painfully. "I haven't been able to make toys for quite some time. Some… good hearted person probably felt that might ease my suffering."
The blond man chuckled. "Ah yes. No matter how horrific the crimes of the wretches who populate this place, there will always be someone out there willing to take pity on them in their moment of need. I wonder if the one who put this here knew it would be a constant reminder to you of what you've lost."
"If I'm not dead yet, why are you here?" Tate coughed angrily. "You'll probably have me to torment for all time eventually. Can't you wait?"
"I'm not here to torment you," the blond man said. "The opposite in fact. I'm here to give you your heart's desire. To put you back in touch with that for which you are most passionate. Your toys." He reached inside his jacket and pulled out an old fashioned scroll and feather quill. He unrolled the scroll to reveal a contract. "Do you accept?"
Winston gulped painfully before giving his answer. "….I…."
A sad feeling came over Nurse Claire Burch as she stared at the empty hospital bed. Most of the patients in the hospital ward ended up there as a result of their own violent nature. It was rare that a patient came along whose death touched her anymore. He looked so kindly and frail… so different from the usual monsters who populated the place. She had heard that he had burned down his own store. His passion for toy-making had died with his wife, so he had neglected the only thing he had left… his Toyshop. When it looked like the bank might take it, he had burned it to the ground.
Frank, one of the security guards, came up beside her. She was glad it was him. She wouldn’t have felt comfortable with any of the others seeing her so choked up about one of the prisoners.
"At least he went out on a good note,” Frank said.
"What do you mean?" Claire asked, aghast. The man had died horribly, after all.
"Turns out he had a whole lot of old toys left in storage.”
“Wouldn’t the bank take those to auction off?” Claire asked.
“No, he left it all to the Children's Hospital unit for the care and treatment of children with terminal illnesses. Yanking toys out of the hands of sick kids wasn’t exactly something they wanted tied to their name, so they let it be known they were complying with his final wish for them to be donated. Everybody wins.”
“Everybody wins,” Claire echoed sadly, looking down at the empty bed.
Later that night, as Claire helped the new occupant into the bed, she noticed the stuff bear that had been left sitting in the chair beside the bed. As far as she knew, the toy bear had been the only tenant the chair had ever known. She hoped it had at least brought him some comfort, making him feel a little less alone in his last hours.
She lifted the bear up and stared at it. She was surprised that it hadn't been taken to the children's hospital with the rest of his toys. How had they managed to overlook it?
The end of her shift was near, so she headed towards the locker area, carrying the stuffed bear with her. She decided no one would mind if she took it home to her daughter, Natalie. The girl had been so sullen and quiet, lately. Perhaps this would cheer her up.
After removing her duffel bag from her locker, she changed out of her uniform, into her street clothes and placed the bear on top of her uniform before zipping the bag shut
Claire let out a sigh as she pulled into the driveway beside her small house. The lawn was still un-mowed. She had asked Mel every day for the past five days to mow the lawn. Every day he had said he would. It made it harder for her to defend him to her parents when he did so little to reassure her own faith in him.
She slammed the door to her old station wagon and walked inside. Naturally, the door was unlocked for anyone who might want to get in. God forbid Mel should actually go out of his way to protect his chosen family.
"You left the door unlocked," she said sullenly as she walked in, finding Mel sitting on the couch in his t-shirt and boxers, eating cereal and watching TV.
"Well, hello to you, too," he said.
"I've asked you to not do that."
"Hey, I'm right here if anyone tried to get in," he said.
"What if they had guns?"
"Then I'd imagine they could shoot the lock. One deadbolt isn't gonna stop anyone who really wanted in."
Claire sighed. "How about the lawn? I've been asking you to take care of that for days now. I'm sure the neighbors are talking."
"Ah, I don't care what they think." He burped.
"Maybe you don't, but I do," Claire snapped.
"Hey, you asked me to find a job, too. How am I my supposed to do that if I'm out there playing yard boy?" Mel said.
"So you've been looking?"
"I looked at the want ads, anyway," Mel said. "Didn't see nothin' that excited me."
You mean you couldn't find anything in all those ads?" Claire said. "The Sunday paper is full of jobs!"
"Not in my field!" he said. "I've got special skills!"
"Yeah, well the bills are piling up while you're waiting for something to come along for those special skills of yours," she grumbled.
"Well, you're doing alright, aren't you?" he said. "Taking the night shift for those flex hours is paying pretty good. You keep doing that and we should be okay."
"Self centered jackass," Claire said, storming out of the room.
"Hey, watch that mouth of yours," Mel called out, looking over his shoulder, "so's I don't have to watch it for you."
Claire let out a sigh as she peaked in on Natalie. Sometimes, it felt as if the only sight she got to see of her little girl these days was her sleeping head poking out from under the bed sheets. She started to slowly close the door when she heard Natalie's voice call out, "Mom? Is that you?"
"Yes, Sweetie," Claire said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." She walked in and sat down on the edge of Natalie's bed and stroked her hair lovingly. "I brought you something." She handed Natalie the colorful teddy bear with the heart in the center of its white belly.
A large smile crossed the usually sullen girl's face. Thank you, mom!" A serious look crossed her face again. "Mom, when are you going to get another job?"
"What?" Claire said, startled. "Why would you ask me something like that?"
"I don't like being here with just Mel," Natalie said.
"We've been through this before," Claire said. You need to learn to get along with him. He's going to be your stepfather some day.
"I sure hope not," Natalie said.
"Natalie!"
"But all he does is sit on the couch and drink beer and boss me around! And he..."
"I know things are hard right now, but they'll get better someday," Claire said, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. "You'll see. Now you lie back down and try to get some more rest. You've got school tomorrow."
"But he..."
"Not another word," Clair said. "You need to get some rest."
As Clair closed the door, Natalie laid her head back down on the pillow. Her eyes stayed open, though, as she clutched the bear to her. If only her mother would listen to her.
Mel looked at his watch. It had been nearly an hour since Claire left for the night shift at the prison hospital. She should be pretty far away by now, he thought. He pushed the power button on the remote control to switch the TV off, sat his beer can on the end table by the sofa and rose from the couch, heading towards Natalie's room.
The door slid open and Natalie let out a sigh as her head rose up and she saw Mel's silhouette in the doorway. She burrowed her head further into the covers, trying to pretend to be asleep. It was too
late, though. He had already seen her looking at him.
Mel walked over, rested his hands on the side of her bed and said, "Wakie wakie. C'mon, I know you're not asleep, so drop the charade."
"Go away, Mel," Natalie said.
"What's it going to take for you to start calling me Daddy," Mel said.
"You're not my Daddy," Natalie said. "And I didn't call him daddy. I called him Dad. ‘Daddy’ is for babies," Natalie said.
"That's right," Mel said. "And you're a big girl. Old enough to take on big girl responsibilities."
A feeling of dread came into Natalie's stomach. She knew where the conversation was going.
"Your Mom is a busy woman. So she's let a lot of things around here slide at home. There are things she used to do for me that she doesn't do any longer. It's time for you to step up and be the woman of the house now."
Natalie rose up and said sharply, "I told you I don't want to play the married game with you, Mel!"
"Where do you get off talking to an adult like that?" Mel said, his face changing from the pleasant facade to the snarl Natalie was more used to. "My dad woulda beaten me black and blue if I ever raised my voice to him like that." Damn the kid could get to him. In the background, he could hear a growl coming from some nature show on TV. He thought to himself that it was just how he felt.
"Go away and leave me alone!" Natalie snapped.
"I think it's time I taught you to respect your elders, kiddo," Mel said through gritted teeth. "Then I'm gonna show you how to pull your weight around here."
Suddenly, a wide eyed expression crossed Natalie's face and she started to shriek.
Mel smiled. This was the first time she'd ever acted afraid of him despite his best efforts. Maybe this would be easier than he thought after all. She let out another scream and he started to be afraid that the neighbors would hear. Those damn schools were always telling kids to scream their damn heads off at strangers or anyone else doing something they didn't like. He hoped all the growling from the TV would cover it up. It was really starting to get loud.
A sick feeling came to him as he started to reach for Natalie. He had turned the TV off.
A large, menacing silhouette crossed the wall and a shadow fell over Mel and Natalie. He turned and looked behind him and screamed.
Natalie shrieked once more as she and the wall behind her were spattered with his blood.
Frank sipped his coffee as he drove back from the prison. He clutched the Styrofoam cup of gas station decaf for warmth. He would be glad when bonus time came around so he could get the heater fixed. That was the main reason he didn’t offer to carpool with Claire even though they lived in the same neighborhood. He already felt big, clumsy, old and foolish whenever he was around her. Why add to the embarrassment?
As he approached her house on the way to his, he let out a startled gasp as he saw the flashing lights of a police car. “What the hell?”
He quickly pulled over to the side of the road and leapt out of his car, nearly spilling hot coffee on himself.
The large man ran over to where he saw his nephew, Stan, standing with other police officers on the scene. As hyped up as he was on adrenaline, a voice in the back of his mind still managed to go, “Oh great.” Stan had been his favorite nephew at one time and he had been his favorite uncle. Ever since the boy had graduated college with a criminal justice degree and made it through the police academy, an attitude had developed towards Stan’s prison guard uncle. As much as he hated to confront Stan while he was ‘on duty’, he had to know what happened.
“Stan!” he called out. “Stan!”
Stan’s body language seemed to give a non-verbal sigh. “Hi, Uncle Frank,” Stan said with barely contained irritation at the interruption. “Look, this isn’t a good time…”
Frank waived off Stan’s attempt at a dismissal and snapped, “I’ve …. I’ve gotta know what happened here. This house belongs to a …a …. Friend of mine….”
Catching the meaning of Frank’s words, Stan gestured to Frank to follow him. They walked through the busted door, past cops who were taking photos of the overturned furniture in the house.
“So what happened, Stan?” Frank asked again.
“Something ripped Mel Harper to shreds.”
“That bum?” Frank said, not bothering to hide his disgust. “Probably owed somebody money.”
“Nah,” Stan said. “From all signs, it was some sort of animal.”
“A wild animal?” Frank exclaimed. “In the suburbs?”
“I know. I know,” Stan said. “The question is where did it come from?”
Frank looked around. “There doesn’t seem to be any sign of forced entry. He looked back at the front door. “If anything…. It looks like something …. Busted out.”
Stan’s eyes widened in surprise at his uncle’s observation. “Yeah, we caught that. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Not a lot does these days,” Frank said. “Think it could have been one of those types of nut-jobs you hear about on TV? Maybe one broke in and waited for him?”
“I hope this isn’t that sort of case,” Stan said with a pained expression. “… Mel was a nobody.” From his pained expression, Stan was considering the possibility. “…and why would they leave the girl alone?”
Frank followed Stan’s glance to the small kitchen area where Claire sat with her daughter in her lap. The little girl had her head tucked in her mother’s shoulder as Claire stroked her hair soothingly.
“It’s all my fault,” the girl cried.
“No, it’s not,” Claire said.
“Yes it is!” the girl insisted. “I kept praying something would happen to take him away.”
“That doesn’t make it your fault,” Claire choked. “Mel was …. just a bad man. I just had no idea how bad.”
“You don’t understand,” the girl sniffed. “I prayed that something would come and take him away. Then when he came in and tried to do stuff with me, Mr. Bear came to life and killed him.”
A confused Stan mouthed, “Mr. Bear?” to Frank. Frank looked at Claire.
She looked up with a dismayed expression. “The Mr. Bear Natalie was talking about …. was the stuffed bear from the hospital. The one that had belonged to the dying toymaker.”
“Well, obviously the toy bear didn’t come to life and kill the guy. The poor kid is in shock,” Stan said. That’s the only explanation.”
“The feds are on their way,” one of the other cops called out. “They’ve already found like about a half a dozen thrill-killers with a similar M.O.”
“Maybe our wild animal walks on two legs after all,” Stan said.
Thirty minutes later, the block was filled with cars from both the local police and the FBI. Officers from both combed the streets. Stan’s group split up, determined that it would be one of them who found whatever it was they were looking for first.
“I can’t believe this,” Frank said. “I was planning on retiring and moving south in another year. Now here I am on a hunt for a serial killer.”
“You should be back at the house,” Stan said.
“Nothin’ doin’, Junior,” Frank said. “That lady back there means a great deal to me…. Even if I haven’t had the guts to tell her… if she’s in any danger…”
“If she means that much to you, then you should be back there with her,” Stan snapped. I can’t have any civilians …. Stan stopped as the steely determined look in Frank’s eyes told him it was no use. He’d be out here searching, too, with or without him. At least this way he could keep an eye on him. “Ah hell … you at least got a license for that thing?” he said, gesturing to the rifle in Frank had pulled from the trunk of his car as soon as the search was announced.
“What? Of course I do,” Frank laughed. “You’ve been on enough hunting trips with me as a kid that you should recognize this gun.”
“Yeah,” Stan smiled. “Now that you mention it, I do.”
There was a sudden crash and both men turned in the direction of the sound. The instincts that had brought Frank back from the jungles of Viet Nam suddenly kicked in and he moved towards the direction of the noise.
“Probably just a stray dog,” Stan said. “We should still check it out, though.”
“Have to be a pretty big damn dog,” Frank said.
They both moved into the narrow walkway between two weathered looking houses and were cast in the deep shadows of dusk. Only an hour earlier, streetlights would still have been lit, offering better visibility.
“Christ,” Stan said with a grimace, stepping in front of his uncle to lead the way into the dark space between the houses. He reached to his belt and pulled out his flashlight. “If anyone is there, come out with your hands above your head so we can see them.”
No one exited the alley, though. After a pregnant pause, there was another crash.
“Damn,” Stan cursed before pushing ahead, followed by Frank. “Who’s there?” he called out into the shadows. He traced the interior of the alley with his flashlight. The alley was bisected by a tall wooden fence. Garbage cans rested at either end. Debris lined the sides of the alley, including an old sofa and a king sized mattress.
A stray cat darted out from behind one of the cans, startling them. Both of them let out a nervous laugh and Frank slapped his nephew on the back. “Whew! I think we both just lost a few years there.”
There was suddenly another rustle and then the mattress fell away. At first, Frank thought he was looking at a bundled brightly colored shag rug or an enormous bean bag chair …. until a growl began to issue forth from that direction. The lavender colored mass suddenly began to rise up and began to turn.
Both Stan and Frank gaped in shock as they found themselves confronted with nothing less than the visage of a 7 foot long lavender grizzly bear with a white belly centered with a red heart shaped mark.
The grizzly let out another loud growl and swiped its right paw down at them. Stan dove out of its path, crashing into the trash cans. Frank fired straight into the heart shape on its belly as if it were a target at a shooting gallery. Both men were suddenly startled to find their vision clouded by a shower of what looked like snow.
Frank threw up his arm to protect his eyes and something hit his hands. When he opened his eyes, he looked down and saw that it was filled with polyester fiberfill stuffing. Frank and Stan looked back to where the grizzly had been. Instead of an animal corpse, they saw the torn remains of Mr. Bear.
That evening, the streets of that block were quiet once more. That is, except for the house of Bobby Addison, lying on the other side of the tall wooden fence.
The street light outside cast a path through his window, across his toy covered dresser, to the end of the bed in which he lay, silently weeping. On this night, like most, he listened to the sound of shouting voices coming from downstairs and shook with fear of what was to come.
“Is it too much to ask to come home to a clean house and a hot meal after I’ve been at work all day?” a male voice shouted.
“I did clean!” a frightened female voice cried.
“You call this clean?” the man shouted. “There’s shit stacked up here… “ crash… “Shit stacked up here”… another crash” …. “Here…”...Crash…
“Stop it…” Bobby moaned.
“And to top it all off, my damn food’s cold!!”
“If you’d just come home straight from work instead of going out or at least call…” the female voice cried.
“Oh, now you’re gonna give me lip on top of everything?” the man shouted. “That’s it! “ The air was filled with the sound of crashing, hitting, and anguished sobs.
“Stop it!” Bobby cried, burying his head under his pillow. “Stop hurting her!”
His eyes covered, he did not see as his army soldier figure suddenly turned its head in his direction, giving a salute. It cocked its service rifle and jumped from the top of his dresser to the floor. Marching towards the doorway, it grew taller and more realistic with every step.
