Ending Genghis (Ending the Story)

Parts 4 and 5, the finale

I promised I’d finish this on Oct 31. Here you are. I apologize if there are edits I missed, trying to make my promised deadline. Again, not a fiction writer by training, but I’m trying to learn.

Happy Halloween!

Part 4

The hazy, muggy Appalachian fall rolled on as the children returned to school. The evening grew dark earlier as the Cicadas sang the song of the changing seasons. The unfettered liberty of summer vacation morphed into reading assignments and book reports, tests, gym class and the endless complexity of young humans establishing their social hierarchies. Although the children were sixth graders, they were becoming that most horrible of things, adolescents, and were experiencing all of the miseries and wonders that came with those changes.

Candace now had the attention of boys, who watched her toss her long, brown hair with young male slack-jawed wonder. Mark had already sustained a black eye at the bus stop in an altercation over some pre-teen insult that he forgot the next day. He did look very cool, everyone admitted. When Candace said ‘poor baby’ and touched his bruise, he broke into a sweat and nearly passed out.

Dan discovered the Lord of the Rings and was forever face down in Tolkien’s tome. But Bobby, single minded, continued to look forward to the dark night of Halloween, and turned it over and over in his mind. On the bus in the morning and on the way home, in the hallways, in class, Bobby stared, contemplated and doodled. His notebooks filled with pumpkins and dogs, crescent moons and shadowy trees. The salt continued to be poured into his wound as his grandparents lavished their dog, and their dog continued to terrorize the district which the children had decided was their own to protect.

Dan came to Bobby one evening after school.

‘You still want to do this? You sure about it?’

He shook from his reverie. ‘Oh, oh yeah. Absolutely. Genghis is going down.’

Dan, more mature than most boys his age, had questions about the wisdom of it all but it did seem very much like a quest, and when he envisioned the dog as an orc and their band as the Fellowship of the Ring, it seemed suddenly more palatable. Except, of course, for the absence of magic, and the lack of Elvish weapons or a guiding wizard.

The weekend before Halloween finally arrived. The kids agreed to meet in their ‘fortress of solitude’ in the now red, yellow and orange forest. Leaves had fallen in their hideout and the child in each of them rolled about, hiding beneath the dying detritus of summer. Their laughter still childlike, a thing they could not understand but still somehow loved.

‘So Bobby, how is this going down?’ Mark needed a plan. He was all Indian, but little Chief. Each leaned into the circle for the final plan.

‘Well I see it like this. We’ll need to make sure that Genghis is out of the yard of course. I think he manages to scoot under the fence, but think we might should dig a hole just to make sure.’ Mark, eager for a role, said that he found his grandfather’s WWII entrenching tool and that it would be easy to hide in a candy bag. ‘I’ll dig it.’

‘Good. I’ll bring you some hotdogs that you can use to lure him out. If I were you I’d scoot as soon as the hole is dug ‘cause you can’t predict what he’ll do if he don’t know you very well.’

‘I ain’t afraid,’ was all Mark needed to say.

Dan suggested that they needed to agree on a themed costume, or at least dress in a way which would allow them to recognize one another. The idea that they be elves or dwarves was immediately dismissed by the others who had not yet discovered so much as the Hobbit, although Candace seemed to like the idea of a flowing dress and crown.

In truth, each knew that their days of costume wearing were limited and that this might be one of the last years before they were too cool to ‘dress up’ as their mothers put it.

Assorted ideas were tossed about, from Super Heroes to athletes. Each knew that their parents couldn’t afford store-bought costumes so they would have to settle with what they could make at home.

It was ultimately Bobby who settled them all on dressing as hobos. He knew that the outfits would blend in, and be scarcely noticed among the hundreds of fairy princesses, werewolves, knights in armor, soldiers, cheerleaders and all the rest which would meander up and down the road on Halloween in search of mind-bending amounts of sugar treats and the occasional trick (which was pretty rare).

Also, as tramps (as if they had ever seen one other than the ragged schizophrenics in the nearby city) they could secret away the tools of their dark trade, or hide them in bandanas on sicks over their shoulders.

It was settled. Although the hours of Trick or Treat were set by the authorities, and went from 6 pm to 7 pm, everyone in the country knew that the time limit was really little more than a suggestion and that lights would be on and kids walking the road until at least midnight.

Candace suggested that if they did their deed early there would be a commotion and someone might call the police (she was ever concerned about her boys being jailbirds). On the other hand, she reflected, it was easier to hide things when there were lots of people on the road.

Candace and Dan would serve as security, lookouts. They agreed to a code. ‘Full Sized Snickers,’ if the mission was endangered. It might cause a stampede but they were out of ideas.

The band decided that 8 pm was ‘go time,’ or ‘G Day’ as Mark put it, hoping to a tactical spin on the operation.

The final question, which had been kicked down the road since planning began, was ‘how to kill Genghis.’

It was clear, in everyone’s mind, that who killed him was long settled. It was like church. If you suggested a thing the church should do, you were in charge. Just so, if you suggest a murder, it’s on you also.

As the sun set on Saturday evening, and the wind bit through their light clothes, all eyes were on Bobby.

Mark finally asked. ‘Well Captain, how you aim to kill him?’

Nobody had noticed the backpack Bobby was carrying. Solemn, he stood up and unzipped the bag. Inside was a Billy Club, the kind city cops carried. Nobody knew how Bobby had obtained it, but all of them took a breath in and reached out to touch the dark, polished wood and genuine leather lanyard at the base.

As they gazed in slightly horrified awe, he pulled out a rope. It was old appearing but sturdy. They all recalled that his grandfather, before he passed, kept horses. Doubtless this rope was one of his. There was a slip-knot that had been crudely tied in imitation of a hangman’s noose. There was a collective intake of breath.

Staring into the woods, Bobby said, ’I’m going to club him enough to stun him, and then I’m gonna strangle him. And they’ll be scarcely a bruise or scratch to see.’

There was suddenly the sound of two cats fighting, the sound which every kid knows is as close to the sound of demons as anything on earth. It happened just as the sun fell below the horizon. They all jumped up and ran for home, hell for leather, certain that their conspiring had conjured Satan.

Breathless, they told their parents they had been ‘doing nothing’ and set about to put together their costumes. They lay in bed, unable to sleep, contemplating the deed before them. And hoping that somebody had the decency to give out full-sized candy bars.

Part 5

Trick-or-Treat fell on a Friday. It was a thing which kids believed glorious and parents viewed with dread. It meant that rather than imposing curfews on the pretext of ‘you have school tomorrow,’ parents would face impassioned, marauding candy pirates who would be bold and loudly insist that any limitation ‘wasn’t fair’ and eventually most parents, being tired from a week of work, would simply give in and say ‘stay out of trouble.’ They would hand out candy between sitting exhausted on their couches, a thing the kids were far too young to fully appreciate. The neighborhood phone network would always be available and active, parents touching base with one another through the evening.

Borrowing baggy clothes from their parents, old pants and ratty work shirts, and asking their mothers to apply make-up to their young faces, the conspirators went out into the cool night and met under a large tree, half-way up the road.

Realizing that other kids might try to tag along, they decided to avoid eye contact and simply ignore their school mates. At one point, Aaron Singleton, a kind and gentle boy dressed as a priest, walked up to them. ‘Hey guys! What are you supposed to be?’ Mark turned and in a gravely voice muttered ‘move the hell on down the road father,’ his profane syntax growing with every new burst of testosterone. Aaron looked hurt and continued his mission.

Bobby’s grandparents were handing out candy and hosting some friends. In a stroke of genius, he, Candace and Dan decided to go to the door and talk. They were invited in for hot chocolate, and treated to new photos of the dog. This ruse was a cover for Mark’s covert mission to open a breach in the fence.

‘Aren’t you all adorable!’ Bobby’s grandmother petted and hugged them. He was starting to feel badly when they said ‘have we told you? We’re taking Genghis to the beach for Christmas! Won’t that be adorable!’

‘Yep, sure is,’ he replied. The other kids stood up and took him by the arm. ‘Ma’am, we have to go or all the candy will be gone!’ Grandfather hugged them too, but the fifteen minute visit was more than enough. The dog had barked a bit from the backyard, but his owners didn’t really care, just remarking ‘we’ll have to put him up, he’s probably scared to death by all you monsters!’

The time was plenty. Mark had breached the perimeter easily with a hold dug near the house, at the corner where the dusk to dawn light never shone.

Meeting back at the tree, Bobby unwrapped his hobo bandana to reveal purloined hotdogs. He had forgotten them at home and couldn’t give them to Mark but managed to grab them from his grandparents fridge in what he thought an ironic twist.

He lay them out in the field by the house, starting at the breach in the fence, hoping the dog would smell them before his grandparents put the dog up for the night. Genghis looked at him without barking and with some suspicion.

As the assorted revelers continued up and down the street, he was pleased to see that the dog could no longer resist. He slipped under the fence, probably hoping for a night of trash wrecking and murdering of creatures, his energy fueled by Oscar Mayer wieners.

The children backed across the road into a ditch in a curve, out of site of other kids (who by now had heard that they should stay away, the word spread by Aaron). Hot dogs were lain across the field and road in hopes that the dog’s avarice would make him careless.

To the horror of the other children, Bobby pulled his Billy Club and rope from the folks of his costume. He lay them out, having spotted a tree with a limb over which he might even try to hang the hapless creature.

It was now 9 o’clock and the cold had driven the smaller children home where they would lay out their treasure and watch as parents sifted through it, taking away anything that looked suspicious (home-made treats, worrisome apples and such). Then they would be tucked into sugar-driven dreams after watching Charlie Brown and the Great Pumpkin.

This meant that the road was less crowded. They would have to be more careful. As Genghis followed the trail of hot-dogs and barked loudly at kids on the road, it seemed the plan was coming together.

Bobby’s friends watched him, wondering if he had the ability to do what he had planned for so long. Bobby himself began to ask the same. It was all fun and games, but he hadn’t ever so much as shot a squirrel. He wasn’t sure if killing was in him. It was mostly just that he was a wounded boy who wanted attention. He was too young to articulate that until later in life.

His palms became sweaty. His heart raced. Candace cried a little, quietly, makeup running down her face. The other boys swinging between eager excitement and terror.

Was he physically strong enough for the task? What would he do with the body? Would the missing hot dogs be evidence? How could he face his grandparents again? And who would control the opossum population? The implications were growing in his mind.

Fortunately, fate stepped in and saved him. He saw the porch light come on at the house. He knew the dog was about to be called home for the night. But the roaring of an engine drowned out the sound. Tom Starr, high school senior, was driving like a madman in his new TransAm, barreling down the highway.

At the same time a little girl about five in a cat costume came running down the road. Separate from her family she was crying out ‘mama, where are you?’ Clearly from another neighborhood, Bobby didn’t know her. What he did know is that she was headed right in front of the car and it appeared that Tom didn’t see her. Who dresses a kid like a black cat?

So there was a confluence of noises and sights. Candace cried out, Mark cursed and stood. Dan started to move and Bobby dropped everything, looking between child, car and dog. For in the dark, the dog saw only a large black cat and ran towards her, one hot dog still hanging from his jaws. The child heard him barking and ran into the center of the road. The kids called out ‘little girl! Watch out!’

The wee cat’s mother was crying out ‘Tawny where are you?’ But the kitten also heard the sound of barking over the coming car and darted away. The timing couldn’t have been better. As the kids ran to the little girl, she ran across the street, crossed the headlights of the car and clear into the ditch.

Genghis’ timing was not as good, but Tom saw all of it just in time to slam on the brakes. As the kids pulled the little girl closer, and Candace snuggled her with maternal terror, the

screeching car hit Genghis on the right back leg, flinging him twenty feet down the road.

It all happened in a couple of seconds. Little Tawney’s mother saw it unfold, her heart sinking then leaping for joy when she saw her child safe in the arms of older children. She hugged all of them as heroes, promising great rewards. She also screamed at poor Tom who deserved it for speeding.

As she snatched her daughter up and walked away, Bobby saw that Genghis looked dead. But on closer inspection, he wasn’t. He was only wounded. He whimpered and whined. All of the children suddenly saw their mortal enemy as an injured living thing.

‘Well I didn’t see that coming boys,’ Dan opined. All of them lifted the dog up and took them to his house, where Bobby’s grandmother cried and his grandfather raged. (The kids had wisely sent Tom on his way.)

‘We saw a truck hit him and pull away sir,’ Mark said, lying with convenient ease.

There was no vet on the weekend so the dog was put into his bed and nursed. And to everyone’s surprise, he didn’t die.

On Monday the vet said he had broken his leg but would pull through.

But a sea change occurred. Bobby’s grandparents thought he was such a good boy, and his friends so precious, for saving their poor dog. (From himself, he thought.) From then on they were treated better than pets. There were dinners and picnics and day trips for the kids, ironically because of what they had failed to do.

Genghis rein of terror ended. He no longer had the strength or courage to roam the night. (Before they went home, Mark had carefully covered up his hole, making it look like a dog had dug it…Genghis owners said he had dug his way out, surprised.)

When the kids met again, a few nights later, they reflected on what had happened. ‘I don’t think I was gonna do it,’ Bobby said. ‘Well none of us did, did we?’ Candace smiled, and the boys all shook their heads in a mixture of shame and relief.

It turned out that they were never killers to begin with. But in the gloaming between childhood and adulthood, it had been a grand adventure to play the beast.

They just never expected that in the end, their failure would become their success.

And just as quickly, their thoughts turned to the next wondrous thing to come.

‘You guys seen the Christmas catalog yet?’ And all thoughts of foul deeds slipped away like melting morning frost.