Mr. Goodnight

Kealan Patrick Burke

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2011 by Kealan Patrick Burke

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the authors.

Other Titles by Kealan Patrick Burke

The Turtle Boy

The Hides

Vessels

Midlisters

Seldom Seen in August

Ravenous Ghosts

Underneath

Dead of Winter

Saturday Night at Eddie's

You In?

The Turtle Boy: Peregrine's Tale

Master of the Moors

Empathy

Theater Macabre

Concrete Gods

The Grief Frequency

# # #

The field behind the house had been overgrown for months, alive with grasshoppers, rabbits and a whole host of hidden creatures.

When Kevin's dad finally got a day off, he borrowed Jed Taylor's tractor and industrial mower, donned his ragged work clothes and set out to conquer the army of weeds.

Days later, the high grass little more than golden stubble, Kevin and his best friend Joey emerged from the cool shadows of the garage, shovels in hand, solemn purpose etched on their youthful faces.

The sun was high in the sky. Hot work lay ahead, but neither the effort nor the heat could dissuade two boys, free of school and hungry for adventure, from their task.

"What if we find buried treasure?" Joe asked, his eyes bright with the excitement.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, would you tell your parents?"

"Why wouldn't I? They'd probably have to help me lift it into the house."

"Yeah, but then you'd have to share it with them. Or worse, they might take it and put it into the bank and not let you spend it until you're a grownup. That'd suck. But it happens. My cousin Ron -- you know, the kid who visits us at Christmas? -- well, his grandmother died last summer and left him a lot of money, I mean, a lot. Enough to buy ten of those electric scooters at least! But his parents won't let him have it until he's eighteen! That stinks."

"Yeah, you're right" Kevin said, thoughtful. "Maybe we could hide it."

"Or bury it!"

"Don't be dumb, Joey. What's the point in digging it up just to bury it again?"

"Well, no one would find it then, would they? We could bury it someplace we know we'll find it again."

Kevin smiled. They passed beneath the shadows of the large sprawling walnut tree in the middle of the yard and paused for a moment, shovels over their shoulders like rifles. The slightest hint of a breeze cooled the sheen of sweat on their brows and they welcomed it.

After a moment of stomping a furrow in the grass most certainly left in the wake of a gopher, Joey sighed. "Do you think they'll ever find Toby Roberts?"

Kevin scoffed. "Dunno. But I sure hope not."

"Yeah. He's a jerk. I wonder where he went though. It's kinda weird isn't it?"

"Suppose. I bet he just ran away. Probably got in trouble and hopped on a train."

"You think?"

"Sure."

"But they said he didn't take any clothes or food or anything."

"Yeah right. Toby'll steal clothes and food off some poor kid he meets along the way to wherever he's going. That's what bullies do."

"I guess. Hey, at least he won't be picking on us anymore, right?"

"Right."

"Cause I'm all wedgied out!" Joey said and they moved on out of the shade and down to the bottom of the yard, where the remains of Mom's vegetable garden stood like unkempt green hair.

"Yikes," Joey said, laughing. "How come your Dad didn't cut that down? It looks like a jungle!"

Kevin smiled. "He wanted to but Mom wouldn't let him. She says there's still some good in it. Thinks there might be some potatoes or something the deer and rabbits didn't get. Dad wasn't happy about it, but Mom gave him one of her looks and he left it alone."

"Maybe we could hide the treasure in there?" Toby suggested and they both laughed.

Just past the nightmarish tangle of weeds and vines, the yard opened out onto the field. The golden earth seemed to catch the sun and hold it, making both boys squint.

Kevin kicked the earth and nodded. "We should dig here."

"Why here?"

"Why not?"

"Why can't I pick where we dig?"

"It doesn't matter!"

"Sure it does," Joey protested. "I know what you'll say if you pick the spot and we find treasure. You'll say you picked the spot so you get more treasure than me."

Kevin clucked his tongue, a habit he couldn't remember picking up but which was driving his parents crazy, especially given that it only occurred whenever he was asked to do something he didn't want to.

"So what if you pick the spot? You'll do the same thing!"

Joey mulled this over. Then: "Okay, how about we ask your Dad to pick a spot. That way no one gets a bigger share."

"What'll we tell him we're doing? If we say digging for treasure, then he'll want some."

"Tell him we're trying to build a pond."

"Nah, then he'll want to help. He'll probably come back with a big bulldozer or one of those trucks with a great big shovel on front."

"How about your mother then?"

Kevin thought for a moment, hands on his hips, the shovel lying at his feet and then smiled.

Joey followed his gaze. "What are you looking at?"

Kevin beamed. "Mia!"

"Your dog?"

"Yeah, c'mon!" Kevin started racing back toward the garage. Joey, puzzled, followed close behind.

"How is your dog going to help?"

"I'll show you! It's perfect!" Kevin said and skidded to a halt as they reached the concrete apron where Mia, his Black Labrador was lounging in the heat, tongue hanging from the corner of her mouth.

"I think she's dead."

Kevin shook his head. "She always looks like that when she's asleep. C'mon. I'll hold her, you take off her chain."

"Okay, but I don't understand what you're doing. Is she going to dig the hole?"

"No, c'mon, untie her."

The dog raised its head and regarded the boys with disinterest. A single wag of her tail in greeting was all she managed before lowering her head.

"Why do you keep her chained up the whole time anyway? She can't even run. It's mean."

"I know," Kevin said. "But when those new people moved in across the way Mia went nuts and tried to bite them all. The guy said he'd shoot the dog if we didn't tie him up." He stroked the dog's belly as he spoke and the dog rolled over to accommodate him. "Man, that guy was mad. He came over here shouting and cussing. Made my dad real angry. My dad said the dog had a right to run free and that Mia had been pooping right where the guy's kitchen table was before they built the house there. I nearly laughed at that but I was afraid someone'd get mad at me."

Joey unclipped the steel catch from the hook buried deep in the ground, so that only the short stretch of chain in his hand was attached to the dog. This would serve as a leash to keep the animal from bolting.

"It's not fair," he said. "Dog must be bored out of her brains."

"Yeah. You got her? Okay, let's go."

Sensing she'd been untied from her moorings, the dog ran, almost jerking Joey's arm out of its socket and he yelped as she dragged him back down the yard. Kevin doubled over with laughter as Joey cried out for help.

They met in the field, Joey leaning back at an impossible angle as the dog wheezed and coughed and tried to pull away from him. "Take your...stupid dog, will ya?" he pleaded, sweat dripping down his strained face.

Kevin took the leash from him. "Mia, come!" he said and the dog instantly turned and padded back to him.

"Aw man," Joey said, chagrined. "Why didn't you tell me she did that?"

"She probably wouldn't have listened to you."

"So what did we bring her down here for?"

Mia sniffed at the shovels and began to circle, breaking the pattern and doubling back as she followed a scent, huffing at the earth, then abruptly changing course.

Joey frowned. "What's she doing?"

"Watch."

The dog tugged on the chain and Kevin moved forward until Mia stopped and squatted.

Joey's eyes widened. "Aw man! That's gross!"

The dog leered at him as she voided her bowels. When she was done, Kevin led her to the nearest tree and tethered her there, where she watched for a moment, then lay down and dozed in the shade.

Kevin picked up his shovel and motioned for Joey to do the same.

He indicated the curly brown turds lying in the dirt. "That's where we dig," he said.

* * *

"So does this mean the mutt gets a share of the treasure?" Joey asked, pausing for breath and squinting at the sun. His hair was damp with sweat, hands dirty from pulling out clumps of earth too heavy for the shovel to handle.

They had been digging for an hour, their shirts pasted to their skin. The hole was wide, but not as deep as they'd hoped. Still, it was a respectable crater and they had no intention of giving up on it yet.

"She'd probably buy a car and drive somewhere where there aren't any neighbors."

Joey wiped the sweat from his eyes and drove the shovel down into the hole with all his might. At the instant of impact, he farted and immediately looked at Kevin for a reaction.

"Aw, skunk!" Kevin said and they both broke into laughter, loud enough to send a pair of blue jays shrieking out of their perch atop the walnut tree. Any attempt to stop the hilarity for the next few minutes only made it worse, so they dropped the shovels and staggered around until their bellies ached.

When they finally caught their breath and the laughter faded to contented smiles, Kevin scooted close to the hole. It was deep enough now that it would come up to his knees if he stood in it.

"Maybe we won't find anything," Joey croaked, a hand still clamped across his stomach from laughing so hard.

Kevin adjusted his position until he was on his hands and knees and brought his face closer to the hole.

"What is it?"

"I don't know but we should keep digging."

"You see something in there?" Joey crawled over and tried to see what had captured Kevin's attention.

"No. I don't see anything, but I have a feeling something's down there."

"A feeling? I have a feeling you've been out in the sun too long. Next thing you'll be yarfing your guts up all over the place."

Kevin looked up and grinned. "Better than farting."

They got to their feet, grabbed their shovels and resumed their attack on the earth.

Some time later, with the sun crawling westward through an unblemished blue veil, as the shadows of evening poked their heads out from beneath the trees and tested the air, something happened.

The hole was now deep enough and wide enough for both boys to stand in it up to their waists. A hill of dirt sat a few feet away, punctuated by bits of broken bottles, shredded plastic bags and rocks.

Kevin lifted his shovel and brought it down where the hole narrowed at the bottom. The earth gave way easily beneath the shovel.

Far too easily.

As he slowly withdrew the tool, he saw the earth crumble away into darkness that oozed like oil, staining the dirt and lapping at the sides of the hole in the wake of the disturbance the shovel had caused. He stood there, overcome by a sudden unpleasant sensation deep within him that what he had discovered shouldn't have been discovered at all.

"Hey, Kev. You getting tired?" Joey asked as he prepared to heave his own shovel back into the hole. He stopped when he saw the black liquid at the bottom. "What's that?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe it's oil! Maybe we struck oil, Kev! Man, if we did then we're rich!"

But Kevin couldn't bring himself to share Joey's enthusiasm and couldn't understand why. It was just black stuff. Nothing special. Probably oil. But for some unknown reason, he knew that it was not oil, not nothing special. Not just black stuff.

And worse, he felt he had done something incredibly, terribly wrong by finding it.

"Kev," said Joey, dropping his shovel and shaking him by the shoulders. "We gotta go tell your Dad! I think we found oil! We'll be millionaires, Kev! Millionaires!"

Kevin tried to smile and wasn't sure if it worked or not. He couldn't take his eyes from the hole and the black liquid slopping around down there.

Joey ceased his happy dancing and came around to Kevin's side. "Are you okay?"

"It's not oil."

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

"Yeah, right. You're ten years old. You don't know if it's oil or not. You're just trying to make me believe it isn't so I'll go home and then you'll have it all to yourself."

"No," Kevin said. "I'm not. I don't know how, but I know it isn't oil."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe we should get some of it out and put it into a jar or something. We can show your dad and see what he thinks it is? You know? Cuz I think it's oil. Really."

"It's not oil. I don't wanna touch it either. Let's just cover it back up."

Joey looked appalled. "After all the work we put into it? And what happens if it is oil? What happens if we forget about it and some other kid finds oil around here? What then? How many electric scooters can you buy on your pocket money, huh?"

But Kevin wasn't convinced. In fact, he thought going any closer to that black stuff than they already were was a terrifying idea. Not knowing why he should feel that way frightened him all the more and he backed away from the hole.

It wasn't so warm anymore. His skin rippled with a sudden chill, even though the sun was still clear and bright. He gripped his shovel tighter.

"C'mon, Kev. What's the matter with you? It's just some gunk!"

Without a word, Kevin dug into the hill of dirt and began to fill the hole.

"Hey, don't!" Joey said and put out a hand to stop him.

And down in the hole something grabbed Kevin's shovel.

"Oh God," he cried and stumbled backward, his feet tangling, sending him sprawling into the high grass of his mother's vegetable garden.

"Kev!"

Green darkness.

Grasshoppers sang their dismay at the intrusion and hopped across Kevin's face, danced on his lips and hid in his hair. Mosquitoes rose to drain his blood as tiny winged beetles mapped out his skin. A small stick, once used to mark the boundary of the garden, stabbed into his thigh and he moaned, batted away the insects and grabbed the hand that burst through the overgrowth.

He was out in the air, in the light, and sobbing. He dropped to his knees, wincing at the stones that bruised them. Mia barked and pulled her leash taut as she struggled to get to him. "It's all right," he told her and after a moment she whined and returned to her spot beneath the tree. This time however, she did not sleep, but watched him.

"Wait, Kev. I'll go get your Dad," Joey said, panic thrumming in his tone. He started to leave but Kevin raised his hand.

"No. I'm...I'm okay."

"What happened? You scared me to death!"

Kevin cleared away his tears and looked toward the hole. The shovel was sticking straight up as if lodged in the earth, but he knew better.

"We need...to fill in the hole," he said and knew by the look on Joey's face that he would not argue.

"Okay, but this sucks. All our hard work and..." He trailed off, and retrieved his shovel from where he had dropped it to help Kevin.

Kevin slowly rose and brushed himself off. The cold feeling seemed stitched to his bones; he couldn't shake it.

It got worse when he noticed Joey, facing the hole, back turned to him, standing motionless with shovel in hand.

A tangy, cloying smell like rotten apples wafted from the hole.

"What's wrong?"

Joey didn't answer.

A slight breeze ruffled his hair. It was the only movement.

"Joey, what's wrong?"

Joey trembled.

Mia started to bark again.

"Answer me!"

"Did you see me?"

Mia stopped barking and sat, head hung low, eyes forward as if chastened by an angry master.

Kevin looked toward the house, then at the field around him, searching for the speaker. But even before he heard it again, he knew it was coming from Joey, even though it was not his voice. It was an adult voice, a man's voice, hollow and unfriendly.

And now he was paralyzed with terror.

"Did you see me? Was it you who ran and told?"

Kevin shook his head, tried to back away but his legs wouldn't move. "I..."

"Was it you who told them where to find me, where to find me and the child? Did you tattletale on poor Mr. Goodnight?"

Joey continued to tremble and Kevin was struck by the immediate need to help him. But how?

"Joey?" he called in a feeble voice. The sun had moved behind the trees on the far side of the field, peering through them with a solitary red eye and making a shuddering silhouette of the boy at the hole.

"Poor form," the Joey-thing said, but it sounded amused. "Not very sporting at all. I was merely trying to fix the little girl. She had something wrong with her head you see, and if those men had given me the chance I might have told them that that was all I was up to. Simply trying to tie together the broken strands in her messed up little head. There's no sin in that, surely? No sin in cracking open the egg to inspect the yolk, hmm? I would certainly have returned her to her parents when I had made sure I'd glued her back together. Where's the harm in that? And they acted like I was a monster, like I was violating the poor thing. How horrid! No, you see their narrow minds could never understand what I was trying to do. They thought it wicked to split a skull open in order to release the horrors, and yet---"

"Joey!" Kevin shrieked, fresh tears blurring the quivering silhouette of his best friend.

"---they had no trouble splitting open mine."

There was no sound at all now. Nature had hushed itself, perhaps sensing something abroad that shouldn't be. The sun was a crimson-eyed voyeur, the breeze like held breath.

"Who are you?" Kevin ventured, even though his mind screamed at him to flee.

"Mr. Goodnight," the Joey-thing replied. "And you are Kevin. But what of your friend here? He seems to have landed himself in a bit of a predicament doesn't he? He seems to be in a bit of a quandary. Shall I fix him for you?"

"Nooo," Kevin moaned through his sobs. "No, please..."

"Shall I crack open his skull and see what has gone awry?"

"Please...just let him go!"

"Hush now, Kevin. Didn't you run and tell on me? Didn't you lead them to me all those years ago?"

The acrid stench of apples grew stronger.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I swear!"

"Come now, we all have our sins to confess. Tell me yours!"

"If I do, will you let Joey go?"

"No, but I promise to take extra special care putting him back together."

Kevin ran before he was sure he still could. A scream sailing from his mouth, he batted branches aside and ran, stumbled, ran, fell, until his feet hit concrete and his father's arms were around him and all he could hear were his own cries and Mia barking.

He whimpered, but would not speak, would not tell. Couldn't. Not as long as the fear boiled within him that as soon as he opened his mouth it would not be his voice that came out.

"Kevin, what happened? Where's Joey?"

Mr. Goodnight took him, he wanted to say but pleaded with his eyes for his father to understand instead. Mr. Goodnight took him to crack open his skull and peer inside.

He was shivering violently, his vision blurred with tears. His father grabbed his shoulders and held him away so he could see his face.

"Kevin, what's wrong? What's going on? Did something happen to you? To Joey? Did someone hurt you?"

Kevin nodded, choked on a sob that drowned out even the thought of words.

"Okay look. You were in the field, right? I'm going to go check it out."

No!

"You go call your mother. Tell her to bring the phone with her. We may need to call the police."

Oh God no, don't! He'll get you!

He made a grab for his father's shirt but the big man was already past him and stalking across the yard. Down in the field, Mia continued to bark, a high yelp of despair.

Kevin moved slowly up the porch steps, watching his father approach the spot where they'd been digging, the evening light sending lithe shadows sprawling across the grass. The door opened and his mother, drying her hands on a dishcloth emerged and looked from Kevin's tear-swollen eyes to his father.

"What's going on?" she asked, her voice high with concern. "Why are you crying?"

He shook his head and pointed out at the field.

"Where's Joey? Kevin, talk to me? What's wrong?"

But he couldn't tell her, couldn't make her understand, so he hugged her instead and wept openly against her apron as she stroked his hair.

It seemed like an eternity before his father returned.

"There's no one down there," he said as he mounted the porch steps. "Just a big empty hole, and of course Mia, who's going crazy. I'm going to call Joey's parents, see if he went home. If not, we gotta call the cops. Something isn't right."

They won't find him, Kevin thought as he was led into the house. Not now, not ever.

"Kevin," his mother said once they were inside, "why won't you tell us what happened?"

"He hasn't said anything since he came running up to the house," Dad said, picking up the phone. "Best leave him alone until we find out what's going on. Get him some cocoa or something."

Kevin sat at the table and listened to his father speaking urgently into the phone.

The silence thickened.

And then sirens and lights pierced the burgeoning dark.

* * *

They put him to bed though he knew he'd never sleep.

Beneath his pillow was a hammer he'd taken from the garage. It pressed against his head, a constant reminder of both its presence and the reason for it. He wondered if he would even have a chance to reach for it when the time came.

The sounds of garbled voices on police radios, car doors slamming and dogs barking drifted up through the open window as he stared at the cracks in his ceiling. Red and blue flashes of light sailed across his wall, turning innocent shadows into twitching malevolent things.

Joey's gone. Grief settled like a stone in his belly. It couldn't be true, shouldn't be true, but it was and he knew it. He knew no matter how much he tried to pretend he was dreaming the reality was that the glorious summer had, without warning, coughed its darkness out to swallow them all.

And that darkness, that seething evil thing they'd uncovered in the field was still there, a real live bogeyman stalking the night.

Of course, they hadn't released him into the world, he realized. It wasn't their fault that Mr. Goodnight was out there now. After all, children had been disappearing long before today.

No. Mr. Goodnight hadn't been trapped under the dirt.

He'd been sleeping.

They had uncovered his hiding place.

And he would be back, Kevin knew. The security his parents provided, that safety he had always taken for granted was gone now, torn to shreds by a simple day's digging.

No one could save him now.

And as if the thought had summoned him, the bedroom door creaked open and his father, hands stained with dirt, eyes dull and frightened, entered the room and stood looking helpless down at him.

He moved around so that he was standing next to Kevin. Red light flashed across his features, ageing them.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Kevin wanted to tell him so very badly that he knew, that he didn't blame his father. Grownups had no idea bogeymen were real and slept in the dirt. The only ones who knew were the victims, and those who'd escaped to live another hour or another day before the bogeyman returned to quiet them.

But he said nothing, only nodded slightly.

His father sat on the bed and put a hand on Kevin's chest. The light showed a glimmer of tears in his eyes.

"I don't know what happened to you today, Kevin, but I'm so sorry I wasn't there to stop it."

It's okay, Dad.

"And the police are doing everything they can to find Joey."

There's nothing they can do.

"It would really help if you could tell them what happened. Where he went or...or...who took him."

I wish I could tell them too, but I'm afraid and I don't think they'd believe me.

A sudden strange scent filled the room. Kevin's eyes widened. His throat went dry. Panic fluttered like a trapped bird in his chest. He touched his father's hand.

Hands stained with dirt...

No!

His father's face turned slowly, slowly toward him.

The shadows were thick and danced in the scarlet light.

He might have been smiling.

Oh no no no!

The room smelled like rotten apples.

Not my Dad!

In an instant, Kevin was on his knees face to face with his father, the sheets tangled around his ankles, the hammer gripped tightly in one bone-white hand. He raised it over his head, watched the shadows slip away from Dad's face. Saw the eyes widen, the skin drain of blood. Any minute now he would change and then it would be too late.

Too late.

Kevin wailed, grief, agony, and horror raging out of him as he swung the hammer.

It was over rather quickly.

Afterward, Kevin breathed huge gasps of air, the tears hot on his cheeks as he stared in disbelief down at the body on the floor, the face no longer recognizable as anyone he had ever known.

A comic strip speech bubble of blood grew ever wider around the shattered skull in the pulsating light.

And his mother was standing in the doorway, a ghost miming horror as the blood ran down the hammer and trickled over his fingers. Then screaming as she stumbled across the room and dropped to her knees next to the bed, her hands fluttering around the man on the floor, afraid to touch but desperate to hold him, to be sure he was alive.

Which of course he was not.

She looked up at her son still kneeling on the bed, his face tattooed with his father's blood.

Her lower lip trembled as she struggled to make the words come out: "Why Kevin...why?"

Kevin shook his head. He wasn't Daddy! I know he wasn't! It was Mr. Goodnight! He tricked me! Oh God, I'm so sorry! Help me!

But when he spoke, it was not his voice that came out.

"Hush now. I'll fix you right up, my dear," he said, helpless to do anything but watch the hammer rise.

# # #

About the Author

Kealan Patrick Burke is the Bram Stoker Award-winning author of The Turtle Boy, The Hides, Vessels, Kin, Midlisters, Master of the Moors, Ravenous Ghosts, The Number 121 to Pennsylvania & Others, Currency of Souls, Seldom Seen in August, and Jack & Jill.

Visit him on the web at: http://www.kealanpatrickburke.com or on Facebook at facebook.com/kealan.burke

Table of Contents

Mr. Goodnight

Midpoint