This is a continuation of the story that started this morning, click here to catch up on part 1
As soon as he saw the last of the stragglers around the corner into the back yard of the Legion hall, Alan took his flashlight and went around to the basement windows that bordered the side closest to the hill they climbed to get up here.
He turned all the lights on and even managed to get the baseboard heaters working, but as they let out their minuscule clicks and pops he’d heard (or thought he did anyway) something crash in the basement. Alan Simmons was more practical than imaginative, even as a kid he’d been more interested in math than English class and that translated to a day job of financial advising. But ever since showing up at this place he’d had the creeps. He started by admonishing himself for them, but now he took them less as the willies and more as intuition, a gut feeling was rarely wrong.
His mag light shined on a pair of eyes staring back at him and a smile in the darkness. He gasped, adrenaline making his legs seem to vibrate, there was someone else in there with them! Recognition arrived a second later as he realised it was a face he knew. In fact, it was a face they would all know if he showed the troop. Rosy-cheeked Saint Nick grinned at him from a box of Christmas decorations. Tucked into the basement, more than a month away from making their debut in the hall.
“Get ahold of yourself Al. you’re literally jumping at shadows,” he muttered. Was that all it was? Maybe he was just jumpy. That lock on the front door had thrown him off his game and he’d been reeling for the last few hours. It didn’t make any sense and he saw now that that’s why tt was probably just some smartass kid playing a prank. The kid probably got his jollies, went home, and forgot about it. By Monday the legion would have the thing clipped off and it would be no more than another piece of weight in a dumpster.
What about the sounds behind the door? Alan mulled that over before realising the place was old, Lord knows his own house-made a plethora of sounds and he didn’t know the origin of every squeak and creak.
All of this evidence should have convinced him, and for the most part, it did, but his eyes still searched the shadows as he made one more sweep with his flashlight. “Betcha anything it’s a squirrel.” He told himself, but he knew for all his rationalisation he wouldn’t risk the troop sleeping inside. In the light of day maybe his gut would say otherwise and they’d spend tomorrow night indoors, but for now he was happy having them think the tents he’d left in the truck from the last camp were meant for this one too.
When he met with the rest of the troop they were milling around the square of light thrown by the kitchen window. None of them seemed in a hurry to go back into the woods for firewood.
“Well don’t tell me you’ve all lost your nerve because of my stories.” Alan grinned “come on now there’s nothing out there except for your typical nocturnal woodland dwellers. Most of them are more afraid of you than you are of them, don’t forget that.”
“Most of them?” he heard Brian mutter. Once more the boys were slow to move, but move they did and as soon as they were sitting around a decent-sized fire Al slipped away to get S’mores. He went through the door trying to ignore the ache of caution he felt roll around in his gut when he stopped over the threshold and into the silence of the legion. A great horned owl watched him with glassy eyes as he grabbed the treats and he locked eyes with a deer head (just as old and just as stuffed) as he pushed his way out the door.
After finding the big dipper, Scorpio, and a few half-hearted attempts to locate Mars, each of the scouts eventually lost interest and moved to their respective tents. Soon it was only Brayden left with Scouter Alan and though Al dropped a few hints, Brayden only eyed his tent nervously before making up some excuse about finding more constellations. As if the kid who was usually so absorbed in his phone Al once had to wing a dodge ball at him to get his attention suddenly found an interest in astronomy. Al realised the stories had gotten to all of them a little bit, but Brayden seemed to be the only one unwilling to go to bed because of it. “Brayden” he started “it’s ok if you’re afraid, but I’m telling you there’s nothing out here to be scared of, now it’s time for bed.
“I’m not scared!” Brayden recoiled against the idea but Al could see he was on the verge of tears. Al figured it was pride that kept them at bay, and spite toward his idea that a kid like Willy, Brain, or Derek could scare him that made him obey Al’s order to bed.
When he was alone Al made a pass in the greenbelt to collect a few armloads of firewood and get a look at the darkened legion hall from a distance trying to see if he could spot any movement, still unable to shake the unease. But the windows were all dark save for the kitchen light he left on.
He caught himself dozing only once when he thought he saw a shadow pass by the frosted glass of the kitchen, the movement making him jerk his chin from his chest. Al squinted through the smoke and threw a wad of birch bark on the fire. The kitchen light didn’t falter again and he told himself it was just an old bulb.
In the light thrown from the flames of the fire Al could see his reflection in the darkened glass of the basement windows, he tried to catch sight of the sinister Santa but the only face he saw staring back at him was his own. As the firelight died Al Simmons dragged an old birch log onto the pile of coals and waited for it to take, stuffing his hands into the pockets of the old plaid coat he’d put on to wear against the night’s chill. The fire threw a familiar blanket of welcome wood heat and Al started to doze again, his eyes fixed on the space in the window where his reflection diminished. As he drifted further into slumber his vision doubled and he saw two faces in the window, one beside his, with eyes that burned like the coals in the fire. Below it’s featureless nose Al saw a grin of ragged chainsaw-like teeth spread as the eyes seemed to stare greedily at the tents behind him. Scouter Al tried to wrestle free from his doze but his chin slumped against his chest and after a few minutes he was snoring lightly. In the morning he would think the face was a dream if he remembered it at all. The only thing that he wouldn’t be able to shake was the feeling of imminent dread that permeated from the legion. Behind the frosted glass in the kitchen, a shadow passed across the light. Beside him the campfire spit a long trail of sparks into the dark October night.
Happy Halloween from Second Saturday Stories! come back November 16th for an all-new story.
