Adam Millard [Millard - The October Boys

THE OCTOBER BOYS

By Adam Millard

2019 by Adam Millard

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means without the authors written consent, except for the purposes of review

Cover Design 2019 by Don Noble

https://roosterrepublicpress.com

ISBN-13: 978-1-947522-02-2

ISBN-10: 1-947522-02-7

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the authors fertile imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

READ UNTIL YOU BLEED!

First of all, it was October, a rare month for boys. Ray Bradbury, Something Wicked This Way Comes

Man is the cruellest animal. Friedrich Nietzsche

ONE

October 31 st , 1988

Havering, London

T he werewolf reared up, its thick brown fur buffeted by the outside wind, its howl guttural and authentic. Standing in the hallway behind the lamenting wolf, a short vampire watched nervously through the eyeholes of its plastic mask. The miniature bloodsucker clutched a large cauldron of treatssome good stuff, too, the quartet of boy-callers noted as the werewolf did its thingand waited for the trick-or-treaters to legitimately announce themselves.

Trick or Treat? the four boys on the step called in unison. It came out all as one word: Trickertreeeeeeat?

The werewolf stopped howling and ferally pawing at the air long enough to usher the small vampire forwards, and the vampire held out the treat cauldron as if it were a ticking time-bomb. Clearly the wearer of the Bela Lugosi mask was not a fan of Halloween, unlike the werewolfperhaps the Lugosi boys fatherwho had, judging by the decorations inside and out, gone to a lot of trouble. The boys had ventured through machine-created fog, past cemetery gates and foam headstones, to reach the house. This was a family which took its Halloween celebrations very seriously indeed.

Offer them the cauldron, Jake, said the werewolf, the fur-and-rubber mask muffling his voice. Theyre not real monsters, are you boys?

The boys laughed; two of themLuke Davis, zombified to within an inch of his life, and Ryan Fielding, a decent Pugsley Addamsshook their heads. Despite their assurances, the Lugosi boy still appeared reluctant to draw closer. The werewolf clicked his tongue and snatched the large cauldron out of the Lugosi boys hand.

Youll have to forgive him, said the werewolf. Its the first Halloween weve dressed up for, and its really freaking him out. He crouched down next to the Lugosi boy. Go and help your mother with the vol-au-vents. Ill make sure the trick-or-treaters get what they deserve.

The Lugosi boy pulled the plastic mask from his face and disappeared through a door at the end of the hallway. Once he was gone, the werewolf straightened up and held out the cauldron. Go on then, he said, now sounding a little disappointed, as if the romance had been stripped from the night by his sons apparent reticence.

The boys exchanged glances, each one waiting for the next to dip into the cauldron first. Ryan Fielding shrugged, took a dainty step forward, and grabbed a handful of treats. Love your decorations, he said, as if the moment required somethingsome little observationto fill the awkward silence which seemed to have descended.

Yeah, no-one else in this streets bothered, Tom Craven said, adjusting his neck-bolts and wiping green face-paint from the back of his hand. Apart from the old bloke at the end. Hes put a pumpkin out. Its not a very good one, though. Hasnt even carved it. It still has the supermarket sticker on it.

Well thats not very good, is it? said the werewolf, dishing out treats to the three boys yet to help themselves.

My mom says Halloweens just a stupid American holiday, said Marcus Berry as he struggled to remove his boxing gloves so that he could make a start on the snack-size chocolate bar the werewolf had just dropped into his bucket.

Mark my words, said the werewolf, ten years from now, this whole street, the whole borough , will have spooky decorations up. Halloweens going to take off big time.

Marcus smiled slightly. He had never been comforted by a werewolf before. Brightening even more, he said, Guess who I am?

The werewolf took a step back, appraising the black kids costume. Boxing gloves, a stars-and-stripes robe, a black eye which the werewolf hoped was simply a make-up effect, and not something the boy had received for believing in the magic of Halloween. Im going to take a guess and say youre a boxer.

The boys all erupted in laughter, all except Marcus, who didnt see anything funny about being the only one of them in an ostensibly ambiguous costume. Of course Im a boxer , he said, trying not to sound hurt. But which one?

Sensing the boys chagrinand not wanting to give the poor kids friends any further ammunitionthe werewolf said the first thing which came to mind. Ali! he said. Youre Muhammad Ali!

The boxer visibly deflated. Im Apollo Creed, he sighed. You know, from the four Rocky films?

That was going to be my next guess, said the werewolf. Lying to children was easy; doing it convincingly was not. I love those movies. Especially the one with Mr T.

I dont like the one with the big Russian, said Marcus. Apollo dies in that one.

Marcus is going to be a boxer when he grows up, said the little zombie, Luke. Isnt that right, Marcus?

The werewolf didnt think it possible, but the little boxer shrank even more, as if ashamed that the subject had even arisen. He looked as if he might cry, which was the last thing the werewolf wanted: a teary-eyed boy standing on his doorstep with a black eye. He did the only thing he could in that situation and thrust the large cauldron in the general direction of the boxer. Here you go, he said. Go on, take it.

Marcus frowned, as if unsure whether this was some sort of elaborate prank, one which would result in disappointment. He could not read the werewolfs face, could not see whether there was a malicious grin beneath the fur and rubber.

Please, said the werewolf, and Marcus had to admit, the man sounded genuine. I doubt Ill have any more trick-or-treaters tonight. Its already pushing eight, and apart from you boys and a couple of Disney princesses, its been a bit of a wash-out.

The four boys exchanged tentative glances, and then Tom Craven stepped forward to accept the cauldron and its myriad goodies. Thats really kind of you, he said, taking the cauldron by its handle. It was heavy, filled with enough sweets to last them a week, if they rationedwhich they wouldnt. We really appreciate it.

Yeah, and its good to see that at least someone in the area is getting in the spirit of things, Luke said, motioning to the cemetery comprising the front garden.

Itll be even better next year, said the werewolf. Im going to build a crypt, and itll be filled with all manner of nasty shit.

The boys giggled. Swear words were funny.

But as they walked away, with a full cauldron of treats and a spring in their step, they had no idea that next yearby the time the nice werewolf had erected his crypt and filled it with all manner of nasty shitthings would be very different indeed.

The sound of an ice cream truck off in the distance, incongruous for late October, was how it all began.

TWO

T om heard it first; the faint jingling of some off-key melody dopplering through the night. For a while Tom just stood there listening, trying to figure out the tune. And then he got it; it was Pop Goes the Weasel, only not the way he had ever heard it before. Not a single note was in key, and so the tune meandered up and down, one note three octaves too low, the next an octave high. It resulted in something nightmarish, the kind of thing one might hear on the soundtrack to some bad horror movie. Tom wasnt allowed to watch horror movies, but that didnt mean he hadnt.