Chris Carter - The Night Stalker

‘But, Dad, these are really expensive.’ He knew his family had been struggling with money lately.

Ray’s eyes became glassy. ‘You deserve a lot more, son.’ He paused for an instant. ‘I’m sorry I could never give you all that you deserve.’ He kissed Andrew’s forehead again. ‘Why don’t you try everything on? That way you can get rid of that dirty shirt.’

Andrew hesitated.

Ray knew how shy his son was. ‘I’ll go and get us a couple of sodas and you can get changed, OK?’

Andrew waited until his father had reentered the gas station’s shop and quickly stripped off his bloody shirt and threw it in the back seat. The scar on his chest from last night stuck out from the other ones across his torso because it was so red and itchy. He rubbed it gently with the tips of his fingers. He’d learned never to use his fingernails in case the wounds started bleeding again. By the time Ray returned to the truck with a paper bag and two bottles of Mountain Dew, Andrew’s favorite soda, he was dressed in his new shirt and trainers.

‘They look great on you, kiddo,’ Ray said, handing him a bottle.

Andrew smiled. ‘I’ll have to take the shoes off, Dad. They’ll get dirty when we get to the lake.’

Something in Ray’s eyes changed. His whole being was filled with grief and sorrow. ‘I have to tell you something, son. We’re not gonna go fishing today.’

The sadness was mirrored on Andrew’s face. ‘But Dad, Mom said that if I caught a big fish today, you wouldn’t fight any more. She promised.’

Tears returned to Ray’s eyes but he held them there. ‘Oh, honey, we won’t fight any more. Never again.’ He placed a hand on the boy’s nape. ‘Not after today.’

Andrew’s eyes glistened with happiness. ‘Really? You promise, Dad?’

‘I promise, kiddo, but I need you to do something for me.’

‘OK.’

‘I have something very important to do today, that’s why we can’t go fishing.’

‘But it’s Sunday, Dad. You don’t work on Sundays.’

‘What I have to do today isn’t work. But it’s something very, very important.’ He paused for an instant. ‘You told me once that you have a secret place, isn’t that right?’

Andrew looked concerned.

‘Do you still have it?’

The boy nodded shyly. ‘Yes, but I can’t tell you where it is, Dad. It’s secret.’

‘That’s OK. I don’t want you to tell me where it is.’ He reached under his seat for something. ‘What I need you to do is go to your secret place and stay there all day long. You can play with these.’ Ray showed him three six-inch figurines – Wolverine, Professor X and Cyclops.

‘Wow.’ Andrew couldn’t believe his eyes. It got better and better.

‘What do you say? Do you like your presents?’

‘Yes, Dad. Thank you very much.’ He reached for the toys.

‘It’s all right, son, but can you do that for me? Can you go to your secret place and just stay there until tonight, playing with your new toys?’

Andrew slowly peeled his eyes from the figurines and refocused them on his father’s anxious face. ‘You won’t fight with Mom again?’

Ray gave him a coy headshake. ‘Never again,’ he whispered.

‘Promise?’

‘I promise, son.’

Another animated smile. ‘OK then.’

‘Don’t come out until tonight, you hear?’

‘I won’t, Dad. I promise.’

‘Here.’ Ray gave him the paper bag. ‘There are chocolate bars – Butterfingers; I know they’re your favorite – some Pringles, a cheese and ham sandwich and two more bottles of soda, so you don’t get hungry or thirsty.’

Andrew took the bag and looked inside.

‘Don’t eat everything at once or else you’ll be ill.’

‘I won’t.’

‘OK then. Is your secret place close by? Can you walk there?’

‘Yes, I can walk there, Dad. It’s not far.’

Ray hugged his son again, this time for a very long time. ‘I love you, Andrew. I’ll always love you, son, no matter what. Please remember that, OK?’

‘I love you too, Dad.’ While his father battled with tears, Andrew opened his door and skipped on down the road with his new shirt, trainers and toys. His father had promised never to fight with his mother again. It was the happiest day of his life.

Andrew turned on the radio, hoping that music would help push the memories away, but it was already too late. His mind was on a rollercoaster trip, and the memories and images just kept on coming.

He remembered that it had taken him only a few minutes to get back to his house after leaving his father at the gas station. He stuck the figurines in his coat pocket, jumped the fence and waited in the bushes that led to the backyard. He just wanted to make sure his mother wasn’t out there. It was too cold for her to sit out back anyway. Dashing to the wall, he started climbing up the trellis as he did every day, this time being even more careful than usual not to dirty his new trainers. He squeezed through the small round window at the top and entered his secret place.

The first thing he did, as always, was to take off his shoes and slip into a thick pair of woolen socks. The attic floorboards were steady, and he’d identified the squeaky spots long ago, but he still had to be careful when moving around up there. Andrew had already developed a way of tiptoeing and sliding his feet across the floor that allowed him to move around in almost total silence.

Andrew placed the three figurines on top of a wooden crate in the corner and stared at them with smiling eyes. His gaze flicked over to a bag of cotton balls and a box of paper clips on the floor by the crate. He felt something warm start growing inside him. Something he hadn’t felt in a long while. Suddenly he stuck his tongue out at the cotton balls and paper clips, mocking them. He wouldn’t be needing them any more. His father had promised him that he’d never fight with his mother again. And his father always kept his promises. They would go back to being a happy family like they used to be. And that meant that he wouldn’t have to initiate his own pain any more.

Andrew slotted himself in his favorite corner and grabbed a handful of comic books. He’d read them all, but he didn’t mind.

He must’ve been sitting there, flipping through his magazines for almost two hours when he heard a noise inside his parents’ room. Andrew put the comics down and looked through one of the many gaps he’d created in the floor. His mother had just walked into the room. She was wrapped in a fluffy yellow towel. Her hair was still wet and combed back. Andrew took his eye off the gap before his mother let go of her towel. He’d seen her naked before, but it had been by mistake. She’d been standing on a blind spot from any of Andrew’s floor gaps. When she finally reappeared, she had nothing on. Andrew knew it was wrong to look at his mother or father naked. He’d seen them hiding under the covers, making strange noises. He knew that’s what all the kids in school called a fuck, but from where he was standing, neither of them looked like they were enjoying it very much.

He went back to his comics, knowing that he had to be extra quiet now, but then he heard the door to his parents’ room being slammed shut with tremendous violence. His eye returned to the gap and his breath froze for several seconds. His father was standing by the shut door, but his face was almost unrecognizable, covered in so much rage it frightened Andrew down to his soul. His father’s hands, arms and shirt were soaked in blood. His mother was standing naked and paralyzed across the room from her husband.

‘Oh my God. What happened? Where’s Andrew?’ she asked, panic stalking her voice.