Impending Doom Page 4

  Ivan approached his car, a fresh book in his hand. He heard his mother’s voice telling him that he needed to come straight home after he visited the library. He heard his own voice telling him that he should go up to the old Lovehart Mansion and get to know the new family more. Besides, his mother would never know. She was at work until five. A family friend was babysitting his baby sister. His father left for an out of town business meeting that morning. No one would ever know if he just zipped up there and chatted with the new neighbors for an hour.

  Ivan pushed the key into the ignition and started the car. He let it run whilst he contemplated what he should do. It didn't take that long to decide. He liked to follow his heart, which he did very often. He didn't care about what his family thought was best for him. He knew what was best for him, and he did what he knew.

  The driveway was long and dusty. Ivan had to choose between rolling up the car windows or suffocating to death. He, obviously, chose to roll up the windows, but felt saddened by it. He liked to feel the wind in his hair as he rode up a street. It made him feel wild and free. Soon, it would be too cold for open car windows. They were calling for snow the first week of November. It was five days away from Halloween, and some people said that it would be below freezing on Halloween.

  He pulled into the driveway that he visited the prior night. He looked at the sun that barely peaked right above the mountains. The sky was clear, gorgeous, and it was about 65 degrees out, the perfect weather. Ivan had once heard some tourists call it million dollar weather; that was the phrase that came to Ivan’s mind that day.

  Ivan walked up to the door, admiring the new coating of paint the house had recently gotten. He also admired the doorknocker of the wolf's face with snarling teeth and people inside them before knocking with it. He held his breath as he waited for someone to come and answer the door. His heart filled with anticipation and he found himself imbued with a sense of adventure as he recalled the tales that the Dyebukos had told him the prior night.

  He heard light, dainty, footsteps approach the door and then suddenly stop, along with his heart. The door creaked open and the simple sight of Latianna made Ivan smile. The smile soon erased from his face when he took notice of her visage. She looked timid, shy, and partially… scared? A mere vestige of the happiness that she wore on her face the night before was all that was left.

  “Hello Latianna,” Ivan said sweetly, loving the way her name just rolled off his tongue. Ivan wanted to let her know she needn’t be scared. He was not going to harm her.

  “Ivan,” she said, half-way hiding behind the door so her left side wasn't visible. “You shouldn’t be here. My parents are gone until tomorrow evening and you cannot come in while they are gone. You should stay away from here,” Latianna gasped and looked down towards the ground, as if she had already said too much.

  “Latianna, it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. I do not have to come in. I just want to talk. You can trust me. I’m a good guy,” Ivan reassured and reached out to touch her, but she quickly pulled back out of reach.

  “Please stay away from here, Ivan, I know you’re a sweet boy and all, it's just my father…well...” her voice cut off in a high pitch and the door screeched, closing completely, leaving Ivan standing there in downright confusion.

  6

  At eight thirty that night, all the stores in the town closed. The streetlights dimly showed the street that no cars drove on. The stars shown in the night sky, lighting up the houses that only a few rooms had lights on in. All children fewer than twelve were in bed, most asleep. The teens were either getting ready for bed, reading in bed, or sneaking out to the old railroad tracks.

  Kurt was preparing to sneak out. He told his mother it had been a long day at school and that he needed to rest. He'd turned out his light forty-five minutes earlier. He spied on his mother and father who were busy reading in the den. He knew the routine quite well. At precisely nine-thirty that night, Thelma would stand up and exclaim, “My it’s getting quite late, dear.” To which Peter would reply, “Of course, darling.” And they would dog-ear their pages, set down their books on the coffee table, stand up and walk to the bedroom in which they would fall asleep almost the instant their heads hit the pillow.

  Kurt patiently waited for this to happen while he ignored Gerald’s worried words and complaints about Kurt leaving the house.

  “But what do we do if something happens to you?”

  Kurt rolled his eyes and told his brother to shut up. When his brother retorted that saying shut up was not nice, Kurt told him to shut up once more, only this time there was a nasty choice curse word in between shut the and up.

  Once Kurt was completely sure that his parents were fast asleep, he pushed his brother aside from the door – not before threatening to beat him within an inch from his life and then stop if he told – then crept down the stairs. Success! He opened the door – which he'd so cleverly WD40'd every week so it would not squeak – and walked outside without his parents even stirring in their beds.

  His new, shiny red motorcycle stood in the carport. It was calling to him. He wanted so badly to drive it tonight, to show it off to his friends. He received it for his birthday not but three days ago. He could not drive it to the high school; he had to walk with Gerald by order of his mother. He had told all his friends about his motorcycle. Some believed him, but others said it was bull, and that they would believe it when they saw it with their own two eyes.

  Kurt did not have money for gas, but he didn't need it. It had a full tank and he knew it. He made up his mind to take it. He put it in neutral, and slowly pushed it to the end of his driveway, and rode through town at the speed of lightning. He did not worry about getting a ticket; all the cops were asleep in the jailhouse. No one was working in the shops to call and report him, the streets were empty, and all the traffic lights blinked yellow. He went faster and faster and faster until he reached his final destination, the train tracks. He skidded to a halt, kicking his leather booted foot to the side. He parked his motorcycle and shook the dust from his leather jacket.

  “Hey stud! Now that's a hot ride,” Alice said with a wink. Kurt grinned as he looked her up and down. Her breasts were pushed up to the point of which if someone squeezed her hard enough, they would pop right out. Kurt smiled wryly as he thought about doing that. Her shirt didn't cover her tummy in the least, and the jeans she wore were so tight that you could see her panty-line. Kurt could not remember who she was. Sure, he'd seen her around. She went to all the parties, and came to the railroad tracks quite often. He just couldn't remember a time that he ever talked to her. Never mind that, he played it off cool.

  “Hey baby,” he said, wrapping his arm around her. “You look like you could be a hot ride.”

  “How late are you staying out tonight?” she asked, batting her heavily mascara coated eyelashes at him.

  “Depends,” Kurt replied.

  “On what?” she asked curiously, pressing herself against him.

  “How late you wanna stick around,” Kurt said with a half-smile and a wink.

  Everyone screamed and cheered as loud as they could when the train passed by at two in the morning. The moon shone brightly down upon them, and glistened against the beer bottles that were scattered on the ground. Some of them were from that night, others from the nights before.

  After the train had passed, Alice looked at Kurt longingly. Kurt knew they were both thinking the same thing.

  “You wanna hike up that hill? I hear it’s haunted,” he stated, cocking an eyebrow.

  “Just because there’s a graveyard there doesn’t mean it’s haunted,” Alice retorted, smiling.

  “Why don’t we go find out?” Kurt asked. They decided to endure the trek up the hill...