Brian Keene - Urban Gothic

“You mean you kids have never watched Black Caesar ? Hell up in Harlem ? Superfly ?”

“Hell, no,” Markus replied. “I don’t watch TV.”

“Your daddies didn’t watch them with you when you were little?”

“I ain’t got no dad,” Leo said. “Never knew him.”

Chris nodded. “My old man’s doing twenty up in Cresson.”

“Only thing my dad ever watches,” Jamal said, “is wrestling.”

“I watch anime,” Dookie told Perry. “You ever watch that, Mr. Watkins?”

“No,” Perry admitted. “I don’t even know who she is.”

“Who?”

“This Anna May woman that you just said you watch.”

Now it was Dookie who was confused. “What?”

“Never mind.” Perry sighed and caught Leo’s eye, making sure he had the young man’s attention. “Look, just forget about the movies. My point is, we can’t just go barging in there. We don’t know what’s going on inside. If there really is someone in there up to no good, then we could get those kids killed if we rush in. Hell, we could get ourselves killed. We’ve got to be smart about this. Careful.”

“Okay,” Leo said, “so what do you think we should do?”

Perry paused, cupped one hand over his cigarette, and lit it. Then he stuffed the lighter back in his pocket and grinned.

“I don’t know yet. That’s why I wondered if you had a plan. Let’s just check it out first. No sense worrying about things until we know what we’re actually up against.”

They reached the end of the block and crossed over into the debris-covered wastelands that separated the old house from the other homes on the street. Perry and Leo walked side by side, taking the lead. The others slunk along behind them, casting nervous glances in every direction. Each chunk of concrete or twisted girder took on sinister forms in the dark, transforming into lurking dangers, waiting to jump out at them, gun or knife in hand. The overgrown weeds in the vacant lot became a prime hiding place, and they approached with trepidation. The tall, rusted chain-link fence jingled and swayed in the wind, sounding like the rattling chains of a ghost. The house groaned, as if disturbed by their arrival. Or perhaps anticipating it.

They paused at the bottom of the porch steps. Perry took a deep drag on his cigarette. The tip glowed orange, providing their only source of illumination. Shivering, he turned to Leo and told him to turn on one of the flashlights. The young man did as he was told, but Perry noticed that his hands were trembling. He was scared. Perry scanned the other boys’ faces. They were all scared.

Well , he thought, at least I’m not the only one .

“Keep that pointed at the ground,” he whispered to Leo. “If there are bad people inside, we don’t want them seeing the flashlight through the windows.”

Leo nodded, but didn’t reply.

Swallowing hard, Perry dropped his cigarette butt to the ground and stepped on it, grinding it into the dirt with his heel. Then he walked up the porch steps and approached the front door. The old boards creaked and popped, bending under his weight. He stopped a few paces from the door and turned around. The boys remained where they were, watching him.

“Ain’t y’all coming?”

“You go ahead,” Jamal whispered. “We got your back.”

“From down there?”

They shuffled their feet and stared at the ground, except Leo, who took one faltering step. He perched on the bottom stair, hitching his pants up with one hand and leaning against the railing, which wobbled at his touch.

Shaking his head, Perry turned around and tiptoed the rest of the way across the porch, cringing each time a board creaked. He stopped in front of the door and took a deep breath. There was an empty hole on the right where a doorbell had once been and worn, faded screw holes indicating that there had been a knocker on the door at one time—probably stolen. There was a tiny peephole in the center of the door, but when he leaned forward and tried to get a glimpse through it, all he saw was darkness. Perry was suddenly overcome with the uncanny impression that there was someone on the other side of the door, staring back at him. His arms prickled with gooseflesh, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

“Well,” Dookie whispered, “what you waiting for, Mr. Watkins?”

Gritting his teeth, Perry raised one fist and knocked on the door. The wood thrummed beneath his knuckles, but nothing happened. The door remained closed, and there was no noise from inside. Perry knocked again, louder this time, but got the same result. He rapped a third time, more insistent, then stepped back and waited. After a moment, he glanced back over his shoulder.

“You boys run around the sides and check the windows. Don’t let anybody see you. But peek inside and see if there are any lights on or anything.”

They hesitated, obviously afraid to split up. They looked at one another and then up at him, their expressions unsure.

“Go on,” he urged.

“You heard the man,” Leo said. “Do it.”

Jamal and Chris went to the right of the house, while Markus and Dookie took the left. Perry and Leo watched them disappear around the sides. To their eyes, it looked as though the shadows simply swallowed the four boys whole. Perry still couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. He decided not to mention it to Leo. The teens were already spooked. There was no sense in making them any more uneasy.

“What do you think we’ll find in there, Mr. Watkins?”

Perry studied Leo for a moment before responding. A bright, inquisitive intelligence burned in the boy’s eyes. Perry had never noticed it until now. He suddenly felt guilty. His ears burned with shame. Many times over the years, he’d thought the worst of Leo and his friends, and why? Sure, they got up to no good once in a while, but what boy didn’t at some point in his life? No, the truth, Perry realized, was that he’d had no good reason to be suspicious and derisive of the kids all these years. They meant well, Leo especially. They were the future, and maybe the future wasn’t as bleak as Perry had always assumed it would be. Maybe they’d make a difference in the world—provided they made it out of this neighborhood alive.

“I don’t know, Leo. I don’t know what we’ll find in there. But I want you to promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

“I want you to promise me that you’ll stay behind me, and that if something happens, you’ll run, and let me handle it.”

“Shit. I ain’t no punk. I can take care of myself, Mr. Watkins.”

“I know you can. And that’s why it’s important to me that you do as I say. So promise me, okay?”

Leo shrugged. “Sure, whatever.”

Perry smiled, looking at the teen with a sudden, immense swell of admiration. The sensation of being watched had passed. Leo shifted his feet, clearly uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

“Um, no offense, Mr. Watkins? But I think I liked it better when you were grumpy and shit. I ain’t much for this touchy-feely Oprah shit, you know?”

Perry snorted, trying to stifle his laughter. Leo chuckled along with him. They were still smiling when Chris, Jamal, Markus, and Dookie returned. All four were solemn.

“What’d y’all see?” Leo asked.

“Nothing,” Chris said. “The whole damn place is locked down tight. The windows are boarded over or bricked up. No back door, at least, not that we saw. Whoever is in there, they don’t want folks getting in.”

“But people do get inside,” Perry reminded them. “If people couldn’t get inside, we wouldn’t be here right now. So, why would someone secure the whole house but not board over the front door, too?”