Dissension Page 12

  Anthony scampered into his room, grabbed his binoculars, and then slowly crept back to the railing. Reluctantly, he brought them to his face, afraid of what he might discover. He focused them in and could clearly see the name Clark written on the boxes that had been sealed with scotch tape.

  Anthony sat motionless for some time watching the man walk back and forth. Then he noticed him returning with something besides a box. It looked like a cylinder of some type but he was unable to make it out. As the man rounded the back of the car he stepped under the street light and Anthony could see clearly what he was carrying.

  He lurched back from the railing and dropped the binoculars. They tumbled off the balcony and fell into the bushes below. The man, who Anthony realized had to be Mr. Clark’s son, was carrying a large glass jar. Inside of the jar, floating in some cloudy liquid was Mr. Clark’s severed head.

  The head bobbed around in the opaque liquid, disappearing and reappearing as it sloshed about. The man nonchalantly placed the jar into the trunk with the other boxes.

  Anthony crab-walked backwards into his room and kicked the door closed. Steve was right and Mr. Clark’s own son was involved. Scurrying underneath his bed, Anthony tried to make sense of it all. Should he call the cops or tell his parents? He already knew no one would ever believe him.

  His chest jumped up and down like a humming bird and he was sure he was gonna pass out from hyperventilation. His hands shook uncontrollably as he wiped sweat from his forehead.

  “You’re seeing things.” He said to himself.

  After a few minutes of shivering under his bed, Anthony crawled back onto his balcony. He looked down the street and to his relief the car was gone. He stood up and let out a long breath scanning the sidewalk for any sign of Mr. Clark’s son. The night was silent and empty. Looking over his shoulder he stepped back into his room and shut the door.

  Anthony couldn’t sleep at all that night. The image of Mr. Clark’s head haunted him. His heart raced with fear, but he was also anxious. He needed to tell someone what he thought he’d seen.

  The next morning as they all sat around the palm tree outside, Anthony told them how he’d seen Mr. Clark’s severed head in a pickle jar last night. He left out the part where he hid under his bed, certain that they weren’t interested in such minor details.

  “Are you sure? Why would he have his dad’s head in a jar?” Mit eyed Anthony skeptically.

  “I know what I saw… I think.”

  “You know what this means bro.” Mikey smiled. “We have to go back.”

  “Are you nuts?” Steve almost choked on his sandwich. “Her husband’s heads in a jar and you want to go back.”

  “Yeah, but this time we’ve got…creature kid!” Mikey patted Anthony on the back smiling.

  Anthony knew this was a dumb idea, but his curiosity was outweighing his common sense. He opened his mouth to respond then shut it quickly as Nickie walked by with her friends. She stared right through Anthony and didn’t say a word. He sunk into his seat and frowned.

  “She still not talking to you huh?” Mikey asked.

  Anthony shook his head.

  “I’m in!” He blurted out. But what are we looking for?”

  “A jar with a head in it, at least that’s what you said,” Mikey smiled. “Anything else we’ll know it when we see it.”

  Now that Anthony was going they were all in. Having a friend with wings, even if he couldn’t control them, made them all feel a little safer. They still weren’t sure how they’d get into the Clark’s house though.

  “Bingo night!” Steve screamed.

  “What?” Mikey looked at him with a puzzled expression.

  “Bingo night. She plays Bingo every Friday night. We can meet at my house and make sure she’s gone before we head over.”

  Mikey smiled with excitement as the plan fell into place. Anthony couldn’t help but grin as well, although he was starting to regret the entire idea. If they were really collecting heads in jars, breaking into their house was probably the wrong direction to take.

  For the rest of the day all any of them could think about was sneaking into the Clark’s house. A sense of danger and excitement lingered in the air. It was the feeling you get before you do something very stupid, when you quiet the voice of reason inside your head and go forward anyway.

  Before Anthony knew it the last bell of the day was ringing loudly. He giggled, glancing over at Mikey who was eagerly gathering his things. Steve tumbled over to his desk gleaming from ear to ear.

  “Are you guys ready? This is gonna be nuts. Maybe she’s making some kind of Frankenstein experiment in the basement.”

  Anthony shook his head and sneered. Since Madame Mimi, his tolerance for adventures was pretty low. He’d pretty much managed to talk himself out of the idea and was ready to call the whole thing off.

  “Let’s get out of here.” Mit said as he slung his bag over his shoulder.

  They all gathered outside and started the march towards their neighborhood. Steve was still bouncing around and now Mikey had joined in his excitement. Anthony was growing more and more hesitant by the minute.

  “I guess I’ll see you guys in a few.” Anthony said as they headed off in different directions.

  He arrived home ten minutes later still nervous as ever. He made his way upstairs and stared down the street where he’d seen Mr. Clark’s son the other night. The car was long gone and now a few kids were chasing each other with water guns around the light pole.

  Anthony shrugged, then quickly packed a bag and ran downstairs. He yelled back to his mother that he’d be at Steve’s house as he slammed the door behind him. Mrs. Dimair poked her head out of the door and yelled after him.

  “Anthony Dimair you get back up on this porch!”

  Anthony stopped in his tracks and turned around. He walked back up the steps with his head sunk. He expected to be reprimanded for something he hadn’t even known he did.

  “You don’t leave here without giving me a hug.” She said as her face broke into a smile.

  Anthony giggled then wrapped his arms around his mother’s neck.

  “So what’s going on at Steve’s house?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “Oh, nothing much, just guy stuff.”

  “Hmm. Well you be careful with your guy stuff.” Mrs. Dimair smirked.

  She turned to go back inside then she paused.

  “So Nickie seems nice. Any reason you stood her up?”

  Anthony blushed. His mother was the last person he wanted to talk to about girls.

  “I didn’t stand her up.” He said defensively. “I just forgot is all.”

  His mother raised her eyebrows. “Uh huh, you be safe Anthony.” She said then headed back inside.

  Anthony took a deep breath as he stared down the front porch, taking in what could possibly be his last sunset. He knew if anything, his night was not going to be a careful one. He just hoped he would make it back home, preferably with his head still attached.

  It was now six o’clock and the streetlights were just flipping on. They buzzed in unison like a swarm of bees. His neighbors were outside watering their grass and waved as Anthony rode off on his bike.

  By the time he made it to Steve’s house, darkness completely consumed the small town of North Shore. The enormous mansion Steve called home stretched high into the evening sky like a white beacon in the night. It resembled some type of ancient castle dropped right in the middle of suburbia.

  Anthony closed the heavy wooden doors behind him and waved at Steve’s mom, who was in the kitchen cooking.

  “Hey there Anthony, you hungry?” She smiled at him holding up a pan covered with pastries.

  “No thanks Mrs. Hanson, I just ate.”

  Anthony wondered if she ever left the front of the stove. Feeding her son was surely a fulltime job. Steve was constantly shoveling food into his mouth.

  As he walked through the foyer his footsteps echoed across the marble floor. Steve’s parents didn�
��t work and had amassed a fortune from inventing “poop remover” a few years ago. Steve didn’t like to talk about it, but his parents were basically the Trumps of North Shore. Now they spent their time collecting strange and “priceless” artifacts for their house.

  A dusty, old suit of armor stood guard near the front door. A coffee table that sat on a glass grasshopper occupied the living room. The wide hallways were lit with candles that sat on little wooden monkey hands.

  “The boys are back in the room.” Mrs. Hanson said as she slid another batch of cinnamon rolls into the oven.

  Smiling, Anthony headed down the gloomy hallway and pushed open the heavy oak door to Steve’s bedroom. Everyone else was already there, huddled around the bed, deep in conversation. Clearing his throat loudly, he closed the door and they all turned to face him.

  “So what’s the plan?”

  “We leave at nine. Steve’s been checking over there the last hour and she’s definitely gone.” Mikey looked nervously towards the window.

  The last time they ventured into Mrs. Clark’s bizarre little house it had been broad daylight. Now they intended on making this trip in the dark and the ominous mist that accumulated outside didn’t make any of them feel better.

  “You sure you guys wanna do this?” Anthony spoke up after minutes of silence.

  No one said a word. They all stared at each other waiting for someone else to make a decision. Mikey twiddled his fingers and cleared his throat.

  “We have to bro. I have to. Come on guys, what else are we gonna do tonight.”

  Anthony smirked. He knew none of them had anything better planned.

  “Guess we don’t have a choice do we.” Mit mumbled.

  Mikey smiled and from that point it was certain, they were heading back in.

  At nine o’clock sharp they snuck out of the front door and crept low across the damp grass. The streets were silent and most of the houses had turned their lights off. A low lying cloud drifted across the yard and made the neighborhood look like a cemetery.

  They bunched together at the fence that separated Mrs. Clarks’ house and scanned anxiously.

  “Ok, this is it. If anybody doesn’t want to come, run back to your mommy now,” Mikey glared at them with a sinister smirk.

  They all looked to one another and shook their heads in agreement. No one was turning back now.

  Steve crawled to the hole in the fence left by his last escape and squeezed through. The others silently followed behind him and met on the other side. The creaky, old house stood in front of them, covering them in its shadow.

  Mikey darted off to the porch and kneeled next to the door. He turned the rusty, brass handle, but the door didn’t budge. He took a step back and rammed his shoulder into it. The door flung open and Mikey fell inside.

  He stood up and brushed dust from his pants. He laughed then motioned for everyone to follow him in.

  The house was dark and eerie. The only light came from the moon outside through the dusty windows. The same damp smell filled the air, but the furniture had been moved and most of it was missing. A faint meow signaled that Mr. Crusty was still there, lurking somewhere in the darkness.

  Instead of going to the kitchen, they crept towards the stairs, certain they’d find something up there. They tip-toed through the house, hardly breathing as the wooden floor squeaked and squealed. The boards bent with every step, threatening to buckle at any moment.

  Anthony sighed with relief when they finally made it to the rickety staircase. It was covered in a furry, maroon rug that masked their footsteps as they ascended. The long, winding handrail disappeared into the darkness, easily concealing anyone waiting above.

  Huddled closely together, they slowly made their way through the blackness. Their hands gripped the splintered wood tightly. The moonlight barely made its way upstairs and created a creepy glow on the shoddy wallpaper.

  Anthony noticed black and white photos on the walls that had to be hundreds of years old. He could hardly make out their faces in the dark but was sure they were all related to the same person by the unmistakable Clark nose. Each picture seemed to be watching them as they walked by.

  At the top of the stairs, hallways spit off in both directions and vanished into a black abyss. They stood on the landing waiting for someone to decide which direction they should head in. Both ways looked just as bleak, like you were walking into nothingness.

  Anthony envisioned a headless Mr. Clark lurking in the dark, eager to take his revenge on any intruders. He shivered at the thought and glanced around apprehensively.

  “This way,” Mikey whispered as he headed to the left.

  They followed behind him deliberately walking across the wooden floor, which seemed much sturdier than downstairs. They moved gradually in a single file line, wide eyed with sweaty palms. In front of them lie two huge wooden doors that were left open which they assumed was the Clark’s bedroom.

  A loud smashing sound and a bump sent a chill through the air and they all immediately stopped. Anthony turned his head in time to see Mit slide across the floor. Shards of broken glass from the vase he’d just tripped on exploded into the darkness. Mit winced in pain looking to Anthony who pressed his fingers to his lips motioning to be quiet.

  Frozen with fear, they held their breath afraid to even blink. Anthony listened intently, but didn’t hear another sound. He waved to Mit to follow him as they continued towards the room. Mit tried to get to his feet, but the creaking of the downstairs floor made him stop in his tracks.

  “Someone’s here.” Anthony whispered, intently glaring at Steve.

  The floor creaked again and this time they could hear the thudding of footsteps. They were slow and awkward like someone was dragging one of their feet. Another thud and a scraping sound echoed through the silent house. It got closer and closer until it stopped at the base of the stairs. They could hear the light tapping of someone wrapping their nails against the railing.

  Fighting the urge to run, they slowly moved towards the room hoping for a place to hide. The tapping at the stairs stopped and everything went silent. Anthony was breathing so hard he felt his lungs were going to explode. He was lightheaded and dizzy and he shook with panic. His feeling was contagious as they glanced at one another in complete hysteria.

  They crossed into the bedroom and immediately noticed the giant jar resting on the dresser. Mr. Clarks' head was suspended in it, floating in the greenish fluid. His eyes were wide open and still held a look of surprise. Glasses hung from his hooked nose and his mouth was fixed in a sort of crooked smile.

  They all gawked at the jar in bewilderment. Then the sound of running on the stairs jolted them into motion. Anthony dove and slid under the bed. Mikey and Mit flew into the closet. In a panic Steve circled in place before crouching on the far side of the dresser.

  The running stopped and they could tell whoever it was had reached the top of the stairs and was heading their way. Steve shivered as he stooped behind the dresser with his shoes sticking out. Anthony motioned for him to come under the bed, but it was too late. The thudding came to halt right outside the door. Anthony flattened himself to the ground and froze.

  “I know you’re here,” a man’s loud voice echoed in the dark.

  Crossing into the room, he slammed the two large doors trapping them and shutting out the little light they had. With a muffled knocking, he made his way across the room stopping next to the bed.

  Anthony squinted trying to see, but the room had gone pitch black. He inched closer to the edge of the bed hoping for even a drop of light. Suddenly Steve’s unmistakable high pitched scream blared into the night as he yelled.

  “Get off me!”

  Anthony rolled from under the bed and came to his feet, but he couldn’t tell which direction Steve’s screams were coming from. He blinked and it was suddenly like someone turned on a flashlight. The room illuminated and he could see everything. Steve was in the corner with a tall man standing over him, poking at him with a
cane.

  Anthony ran and dove at the man. They both dropped to the floor as Mikey and Mit burst out of the closet.

  Suddenly the room light went on and Anthony was momentarily blinded by the brightness. He threw his hands over his eyes and grimaced. Mikey grabbed his arm and pulled him.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  Mit dragged Steve up as Anthony scrambled to his feet and lunged at the door. Mit and Steve followed behind them, piling into the hallway. Anthony was still seeing stars as his eyes tried to readjust.

  He looked back to the room and the man was starting to get up. He was slow to move and had obviously hurt his good leg during the scuffle.

  They darted to the staircase almost falling as they flew down it. They made it to the first floor, but it was too dark to tell which way to go. In a panic Mikey tore off to his left and everyone followed.

  “Get back here,” a voice echoed from upstairs.

  Anthony looked back as Mikey wrenched open the front door. The man stood on the stairs shaking his cane at them.

  They dashed out into the cool night and to their alarm Mrs. Clark was making her way up the porch. Steve let out a girlish scream and Mit stumbled backwards and fell to the ground.

  Mrs. Clark glared at them, her devilish eyes seemed to glow red in the night. Her expression wasn’t one of surprise, but more anger.

  “I knew you boys had been sneaking around,” she stabbed her finger at them.

  Anthony was frozen, his feet unwilling to move. He wanted to run, run far away into the night, but his body wouldn’t listen. This was one of those times his wings could come in handy.

  “You’ve been in my room haven’t you?”

  “No, no we haven’t,” Steve jolted.

  “Hold them right there Jackie,” the man yelled as he hobbled towards the front door.

  It took every bit of will power, but Anthony forced his feet forward and he dove off the porch. He ran past Mrs. Clark and headed for the fence. Mit jumped up from the ground and tried to follow, but Mrs. Clark grabbed him by the shirt collar. Her wrinkled, old hands had incredible strength and she snatched him off his feet as he ran by.