Kritterkreep

KRITTERKREEP

By

J.D. Gordon

New Leaf Books/Illinois

COPYRIGHT

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidences are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual organizations and persons, living or deceased, is entirely coincidental.

Something in the Bushes from Speed-b-b-b-bumps and other poems for kids & families by Darrell House is printed by permission.

Published by WigWam Publishing Co.

Smashwords Edition

http://www.newleafbooks.net

Copyright 2010 by Jim Radzinski

eISBN-13: 978-1-930076-10-5

Cover illustration by Laura Kuhrau

Author sketch by Terry R. Cagle, http://www.terryrcagle.com

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DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to Emily and Erich

The list is long, distinguished at times, but mostly undistinguished, and some of the names have been changed to protect the innocent or perhaps the not so innocent. First I’d like to thank my wife for all of her support throughout the entire time I’ve been tinkering with the writing of books, and for not minding me coming to bed at three a.m. after hours of typing away on the computer. Next I’d like to thank Ophelia Julian for introducing me to the fine folks at New Leaf Books who are making this whole project possible. I’ll thank them too. I’d like to thank Joyce Faulkner, my good friend and confidant in the writing business. I’d like to thank Randy Richardson, author, president of the Chicago Writers Association and my good friend in general. I think I may lean on Randy a little bit too much but he doesn’t seem to mind. I’d like to thank Rose at the Bundles of Books in Glen Ellyn for her friendship and support in general. I’d like to thank all of the friends and acquaintances that have read Kritterkreep prior to publishing and offering their kind words and sometimes their not so kind words on the subject. Finally, I’d like to thank you the reader, without you there would be no need for writing in the first place, or perhaps for publishing. I think we folks who write would still write even if never a word gets read.

Something in the Bushes

There’s something in the bushes, something on the stairs.

Something just outside the door, something’s waiting there.

I don’t know if it’s large or small or covered up with hair.

I only know that just outside, something’s waiting there.

There’s something in the closet, something underneath the bed.

Something’s on the window ledge, something filled with dread.

It might be covered up with slime, its eyes all fiery red.

It’s coming here to get me.

At least that’s what my brother said!

— Darrell House

CHAPTER 1

A crisp autumn breeze scattered colorful leaves over the streets and sidewalks as Andy Biggs shuffled home from school. It was a Friday, much more than just a Friday. It was Halloween, and Halloween happened to be Andy’s birthday. His path was crammed full of vampires, ghosts, ghouls, and parents making their way from door to door, their little bags of treats becoming heavier as they walked along.

Andy watched the friends as they laughed, smiled and simply enjoyed being young. In high school now, even as a freshman, Andy felt a little long in the tooth for the age-old practice of trick or treating. Then again, there is all of that free candy which is difficult to pass up even for a kid that has hit his fourteenth birthday. Still, to a teen, Halloween is for shaving cream and eggs, not chocolate bars, candies, and let’s not forget about those little rolls of pennies that the old ladies like to hand out.

Don’t want to ruin your teeth now do we?

Yeah, right lady, your three pennies wrapped in masking tape are going to offset the twelve pounds of candy already collected from the more realistic people on the block, Andy always thought.

Andy waited as a gaggle of miniature characters from B-rated horror movies occupied his porch waiting for their handout. A pair of moms and a dad waited on the sidewalk as Andy’s mom tossed king-sized candy bars through the opening of their bags. The parents waved at Andy’s mom and she returned the gesture.

Andy climbed the stairs as the crew moved on to the next house.

Hi, Mom.

Here comes the birthday boy. How was school today, Andy?

Not bad, we had wrestling in gym class today, shoulder hurts a bit.

Andy slipped through the door. He kicked his shoes off and hung his jacket up in the foyer. He ran upstairs, his book bag in his hands.

Dinner will be at six-thirty dear, when your dad gets home.

As if Andy didn’t know. Dinner was always at six-thirty. Chester rarely made it through the door until six-fifteen. He wore a suit and tie. He worked in the city, a lawyer of some sort. If he was late, they waited. Chester Carlton was Andy’s stepfather but his mom expected him to call the guy Dad. He dreaded the practice but he was learning to live with it.

I know, Mom.

The door to his sister’s room was right next to his. The door was closed. He would have to be quiet. A closed door meant the little girl was napping. Until now Andy had been an only child. Darby was an unexpected addition to his life.

Six o’clock, he thought, a late nap, a good chance she will be waking the house up at two in the morning.

Andy dashed into his room. His mother must have picked up because the place was a mess when he had left for school. No, must have been the maid. They had one of those now.

Andy pulled his chair away from the desk, dropped his bag next to him, set his phone on the desk top and took a seat. He signed onto the Internet to check his mail.

Nothing but spam. Typical.

He heard the doorbell, more trick or treaters.

He lucked out, a friend from the old neighborhood suddenly signed on. He ripped off an instant message and chatted till the food was on the table. The conversation ended when his mom’s voice invaded his space.

Your dad is home, time for dinner.

Andy glanced at the clock in the lower right hand corner of the screen. It was six forty-five, a little late. The pair ended the conversation in the usual manner, a promise to visit each other soon. Andy signed off and headed down to the dining room. As they sat down around the table a cry came from the stairwell. The doorbell rang again. Andy’s mom dropped the main dish off and headed for the front door and then upstairs. He could hear her mutter something about getting a nanny as she walked away.

Dinner turned out to be some kind of roast. He couldn’t tell what kind. His mom wasn’t the best cook in the world. The potatoes were lumpy, though he liked them that way. The corn was swimming in buttered water and the rolls were almost burnt. He waited as his stepfather cut into the charred chunk of meat sitting in the middle of the table.

It’s not as tough as usual tonight, Andrew, he said as he carved. Better go get the chain saw anyway. A trim smile spread across his face. Chester always called him Andrew.

Andy was warming up to his stepdad in some ways. He still felt like a stranger in the home though. He had been living there for several months but it still didn’t feel right. His mother came into the room with his sister. The little girl was seven months old now. Her last name was Carlton. That was Chester’s last name, and now his mother Janice’s too. The way Andy saw it, he was an outsider, a Biggs among a house full of Carltons.

So how is the man of the hour today? Are we having a happy birthday Andrew? Chester asked but Andy never had the chance to answer. His mother interrupted.

Darby crawled today.

When all of the baby talk started, the oo’s and the ahh’s and what not, Andy felt cut out of the conversation. Darby sat up in her high chair—another cause for celebration—unsupported sitting. She had a mess of pureed food all over her hands and mouth. Andy couldn’t figure out why they even bothered wrapping a bib around her neck.

The doorbell rang out again. That would stop soon. The village imposed a curfew on the costumed, candy-begging street urchins.

Andy dear, would you mind watching the baby tonight? Your dad and I were thinking of catching a movie downtown.

He had no plans, so he could, but pushing the kid off on him and on his birthday, what’s up with that?

I kinda wanted to get my homework done so I didn’t have to worry about it, being my birthday and all. He wondered if she would catch the hint.

It’s the weekend, you can do that tomorrow.

After we rake the yard, Chester added.

Andy had the only parents in school that didn’t think homework came first, on the weekends anyway.

The rest of the meal pretty much went in the same manner as every meal did. He would finish and sit there waiting to be excused as Chester and his mom fed the baby between bites of their own food. They would share small talk, Chester and his mom, mostly about planned vacations or social gatherings. They always had some sort of social function to go to on the weekends and Friday nights. Andy was stuck baby-sitting. Perhaps that was why he had few friends in his new hometown of Glen Ellyn. He was always watching the baby. He was resentful at times but it really wasn’t so bad.

Often times, while trying to rock the little girl back to sleep Andy would look into those bright blues eyes of hers. A warm and comfortable sensation would fill his body. He’d smile at the girl and hold her a little tighter.

He did the math once. Andy knew a woman was pregnant nine months. That would mean his mom was expecting a baby shortly after the divorce and most definitely before the wedding. He was the ring bearer. Chester was Catholic. They were married in some big church named Saint Petronelle. The place even had a swimming pool. It was much different from his old Lutheran church back in the city, Redeemer.

Whatever, he rolled with the punches.

It was later, after eight, when his mom came into his room. Andy was playing baseball on his game system. The Cubs, his team, were up by two and in the seventh inning. She sat down on the floor beside him.

She was a beautiful woman. Her brunette hair was long with slight curls. She was slender and her eyes were sky blue. She was wearing a long skirt and a white blouse with a cardigan sweater over it. He could smell her perfume. He felt comfortable with his mom so close. He usually felt so far away from her, since all of the changes.

We’re going to go now. I put the baby to bed so you shouldn’t have to worry too much.

Andy wasn’t buying that one. He remembered the late nap. She brushed Andy’s brown hair with her hand. He pushed it away, just another something he felt too old for, the coddling.

Mom, stop.

She giggled and looked into his eyes. Andy paused the game. He had a batter on in the box with a full count and didn’t want to screw up the play.

You really have your father’s eyes, she said. He did. His father had green eyes just as Andy did.

Does that bother you? Andy asked.

Of course not, dear. Why would you ask that?

Well, if you don’t like Dad anymore and I look like him, why would you like me? He had asked this in the past and knew the answer.

I still like your dad.

However, they barely spoke when he would come to pick Andy up for his occasional visits.

We just didn’t get along anymore and we couldn’t work through it. I’ll always love you though, you’re my baby boy.

I’m not a baby anymore, Mom.

You’ll always be my baby.

She gave him a kiss on the forehead.

Are you going to be okay? We should be home in a few hours.

I’ll be fine.

I love sitting around baby-sitting on a Friday night, on Halloween, on my birthday. Yeah, this is great.

She kissed his forehead again and set a small speaker device next to him on the floor. Andy was familiar with the item. It was the baby monitor, so he could hear what was going on in his sister’s room, even though it was right next door to his room. He could hear her cry without it, but he did like having it on. He liked hearing the little quiet noises—the little coos that babies make when they sleep. Recently though, the little girl had been restless, crying late in the night, difficult to console. His mom said she was colicky or something like that. He wasn’t familiar with that term, but he assumed it was some sort of medical condition that prevented the child from sleeping well and being quiet. That kid has a good set of lungs on her at times, Andy thought, especially at night.

I know you will be. She ruffled his hair again and stood up, walking towards his bedroom’s door. She stopped and turned to look at him. He had already restarted the game and hit one