CHAPTER TWO
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“MR. STEIN?”
“I’m here. I’m here!” All knees and elbows, Adam dashed through the crowd mingling near the final and therefore best float. A few of the tourists had found the parade staging area and tried to take selfies while posing in front of the throne at the top of the castle.
Marianne Getty, the woman in charge of the parade and the community activities from spring until winter, tapped her clipboard. “Where’s your costume?”
“I’ve got it on.” Adam stuffed the last of his arm down the hole, then slid up the jacket.
It was rather trim even on him, with dramatic tails that’d been distressed for extra creepiness.
A debonair, Victorian jacket over his black and white striped vest, and the tie gave off the perfect vibes for the King of Halloween.
She stared long at him. “You’ve forgotten your head.”
“Oh.” Adam tapped his forehead as if that’d make the massive papier maché pumpkin appear. “Well, I could always go without this year. Not as if people don’t know who their Halloween—”
Marianne stuck two fingers in her mouth and gave a fast, sharp whistle. One of her minions scurried over. “Find Mr. Stein his head before more roll.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Rhythmic drumming kicked up far in the distance, and the floats revved their engines. “Starting already?” Adam asked and pretended to look at the watch he didn’t have.
“Yes, Mr. Stein. Nearly fifteen minutes late.”
“I’m sorry, but there was this kid who knocked over the entire line of fantasy and western costumes. We nearly had a genre crossover of epic proportions.” He threw on his biggest smile and tried to elbow Marianne.
“Get on your chair.”
Adam waved to tell her he was going. But as he climbed past the wooden cutouts of a Frankenstein castle silhouetted by lightning and mobs of angry villagers, he couldn’t stop himself. “When it’s lined with red velvet, has padded armrests and a golden back, I believe it’s called a throne.”
“That’s gold spray paint, and the velvet’s from our old Santa costume after the Rudolph incident.”
“Ah.” Adam peered closer and spotted a reindeer hoof print embedded onto the back. “So it was. Well, that only adds to the spookiness.”
Horns blared, and the local marching band started playing Night on Bald Mountain.
From his perch, Adam was able to make out the feathers on their hats swaying in the wind.
The parade was on its way. So he was a little tardy, but he was here and ready to put in his jolly wave. Three bags of candy circled his legs.
While it made sense for the King of Halloween to throw out treats to all the good girls and boys, did it have to be fruit tootsie rolls? Adam stared at the blueberry one with minor distaste when he caught Marianne talking into her headset with all the excitement she never saved for him.
“Don’t tell me someone’s even later than me,” Adam called down to her.
“Yes, just have him pull out when I say,” Marianne ordered. “No, it’s fine. He’s always slow.” She stared him dead in the eye and repeated, “Always.” Then she swung up her little headset and crossed her arms.
Flopping back into his throne, Adam tried to act like his ass wasn’t on fire with curiosity. But after crossing his legs with the right over the top, then the left, then hunched back in the chair, the silence broke. “What was that all about?”
“Just a new float,” she said with far too much disinterest.
If it was a truck from the dealership or the hardware store pulling a flatbed, she’d have said as much. The less information she gave, the greater the secret. Adam didn’t just take the bait; the hook was lodged in his brain.
“And who exactly is piloting this new float?”
“Someone new. Way I hear it, he bought the old Hart Hotel and is going to turn it into a haunted house.”
Adam laughed hard at the idea. “A haunted house? Anoka hasn’t had a haunted house in…
Oh god, how old am I? Thirty-something years?
” Every few seasons, there was a rumbling that so-and-so was going to buy up an abandoned warehouse and put a haunt in there.
The town rallied, excited to add yet another Halloween activity to the mix.
Then the permits fell through, the money ended, the building collapsed, and they were once again hauntless on Halloween.
“Sounds like he’s really gung-ho about it,” Marianne said.
“Mrs. Getty,” her minion shouted from the crowd. A massive orange sphere weaved above heads until the poor, panting girl damn near collapsed at Marianne’s feet. “I’ve got it.”
“Good. Now give it to him.”
Adam climbed down to meet her. As he did, he caught Marianne’s eye. “So was Curly, and we all know how that haunted hayride through ankle-high corn went.”
“You don’t think it’ll happen?” she asked.
“Of course not.” Adam started to laugh when twenty pounds of orange cardboard and paint plopped over his head. He tried to peer through the nostrils but could only get one eye out. “I’d stake my crown on it.”
“Get to your seat, Pumpkin King,” Marianne said. She swung down her headset and ordered the next float off.
“Whoa!” Adam fell back onto the plywood throne. He clung to the fake pumpkin three times the size of his head lest first it, then he, tumbled to the pavement.
It might be cheesy, and a little cheap in the sunlight, but he was their king, and Halloween was the best time of year.
With one hand on his jack o’lantern cheek, Adam gave a queenly wave to the crowd and cried out, “Happy Halloween!” His voice echoed so loudly inside the pumpkin, his ears started ringing in under a block.
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“Candy! Candy for all!” Adam gave his best demonic laugh, ensuring he’d be deaf for the rest of the day, but the kids ate it up. Probably. It was hard for him to see with only one eye managing through the triangular slit for a nose.
From what little he could tell, it sounded like the parade was off to another smashing success.
Everyone was ecstatic to meet their beloved Halloween king.
He was Santa Claus’ svelte and spooky cousin.
Only, instead of filling their stocking with toys, he was ensnaring them in a trap of terror and trauma.
Also candy.
It was not Halloween without candy.
With a triumphant flare, Adam swung the entire scoop’s worth out.
Fruity tootsie rolls rained down on their heads like pennies from heaven.
The children all giggled and raced around the pile on the sidewalk, but one was bold.
In the familiar purple and gold windbreaker, he approached the float itself.
Greedy fingers at the ready, he reached for the closest bag to steal a stash for himself.
Adam watched it all while acting like he wasn’t.
With a wicked grin, he thumbed a button under his throne’s arm.
A skeleton’s hand whipped out of the float, and a witch’s cackle burst from the speakers.
The would-be candy thief leaped back before the undead could claim his head.
As he landed on his feet, a tiny hand clutched to his racing heart, his eyes went wide.
But when the float carried on past, he gave out a laugh and raced back to his fellow school children.
That was the joy of Halloween. Fear—yes—but contained, knowable, survivable fear.
The scares were to get the blood pumping and tickle right up against the node that causes unending laughter, not induce years of trauma.
This was the only time of year when they put their monsters on a pedestal instead of a stake.
The float began to turn, following the curve around their main street statue.
As they passed, Adam raised two fingers toward the gilded scarecrow hanging from his perch.
“Hello, Stitches,” he greeted it. For a beat, Adam watched, making certain that the downward hat didn’t shift in the wind, or the burlap sack didn’t wink around the sunken eye socket. The statue remained as it always was.
“Whoa!” The ground pitched under him. His pumpkin head flew back, and he slammed a palm to it as the float came to a screeching stop. Marianne walked in front, clipboard out to hold them in place. Then she nodded to the float ahead.
Adam hadn’t thought much of it when it had pulled in. The playhouse out of Chucky’s nightmares on the flatbed was quaint but nothing exactly eye-catching. From his position at the back, he hadn’t been able to make out who was in front of him, not until it turned before the final leg of the parade.
In the crowd on their private platform, sat the mayor and a few council members.
They were the deciding vote in the Halloween King race.
Sure, they’d pretend that the people had just as much of a say, but Adam knew the truth.
The crown went to whoever brought in the most tourist gold that year.
If the next thirty-one days went as well as the first, Adam’s record-setting five-year streak was a guarantee.
Thunder rolled from speakers below the flatbed ahead of him.
Is there gonna be a show? Interesting . Excited, Adam sat down on his throne and watched.
A flicker of lightning zapped across the small house’s black turrets.
Then a great roar rose in the air as all of the little gargoyles opened their mouths.
That can’t be an animatronic. They aren’t much bigger than my palm.
A moon hung above the house, and clouds crawled across the yellow sphere, followed by a swarm of bats, and—finally—a witch on her broom gave a good cackle.
A loud doorbell went off, nearly peaking the speakers.
Intrigued, Adam leaned to the side. He was able to spot the front door of the little house.
It was a bit warped, but it looked like it swung open to utter darkness.
The street went quiet, watching a definitely projected trick-or-treater standing in front of the steps—pumpkin bucket waving in anticipation. Adam couldn’t quite make it out from his angle. People were holding their breath, so there must be something good.
Curiosity getting ahold of him, he leaned even farther. A creak rose from the rickety old throne, and two legs lifted off of the platform. It was fine. He had balance and poise.
Ah! A hint of a flicker danced through the little windows like tiny candles appearing then vanishing throughout the house.
Small ghosts swirled up and down the tiled roof before a great sparkle hit at the top of the weathervane.
Everyone oohed and aahed, delighted by the sudden appearance of projected fireworks.
A scream. Adam jerked in shock. A physical skeleton hand tore through the little doorway and snatched up the projected trick-or-treater. He tried to follow, his brain certain the animatronic grabbed an actual doll. People lost it, hooting and hollering at the display.
Leaning farther out, he craned his neck.
The wind caught his pumpkin head, spinning it around.
Snarling, he grabbed the flesh and turned it back, catching a glimpse of a light change.
The entire house vanished, revealing an ad for some place called the Heartbreak Hotel.
Scrim. Adam smiled at not just the use but him figuring out the trick.
It sure did delight the people watching, huge applause rising from the crowd.
“Thank you. Thank you.”
A shadow moved from behind the house, hand extended. Adam caught a hint of colors shifting from blue to green in the sunlight.
No. It couldn’t be.
The damn pumpkin head spun again. He let go of the chair in order to slap both hands on it and focus. With his chin planted against the interior, Adam peered through the nose hole. Brown hand waving to the crowd, green on the head. No, purple. No, it’s…
“Thank you for that amazing display!” the mayor called out. “Let’s give a big round of applause for Mr. Chowder.”
“Choudhary.”
It’s him. He…
“Oh, shi—!” The throne collapsed, flinging Adam off his perch. He fell headfirst toward the unforgiving concrete ready to pulp his brains. The pumpkin swung around, hiding his face when he struck. All he knew was darkness, then the sickening sound of broken wood raining down around him.
Quiet gasps were all that surrounded him as he fought to stand. “It’s okay. I’m all right,” he said, doing his best to ignore the stinging on his palms. As he slid back, the pumpkin head fell off. Adam took stock, surprised to not find a huge lump on his head. Then he saw it.
The pumpkin rolled over in the wind. Its grinning face smiled at him.
Well, half did. The other side was completely dented inward, giving the once jolly jack o’lantern a pained look of the damned.
Hushed silence was all that greeted Adam as he staggered to his feet.
A cold breeze cut across his knees, and he looked down to find he’d torn open his pants.
Blood dripped down the remaining fabric, and his side ached.
As he tried to stretch, the wind caught the head and rolled it away.
Chasing after, Adam managed to get a hand on it just as he looked back to find Raj Choudhary in his chameleon mask watching Adam’s great fall.
“Your King of Halloween, everyone!” the mayor called to no applause.