Chapter 2: Eyes on Taramack Drive

Chapter 2: Eyes on Taramack Drive

            Trent didn’t even get the chance to change before his phone buzzed. Fishing it out of his pocket, he put it on speaker as his mom’s voice came through one of those quick check-ins she managed to squeeze in from work.

            “Hey, honey. How was school today?”

            Trent sighed, dabbing gray makeup across his cheek in the bathroom mirror. “Pretty awful. My new mask got ruined.”

            “Aww, honey, I’m sorry. What happened?”

            “Nothing. Just some kid at school got a little rough. It’s fine or whatever.”

            “Well, it’s too late to get a replacement,” she said. “Your dad told you to be careful. You shouldn’t have taken it to school in the first place.”

            “I know, Mom, I’m sorry.” Trent muttered.

            “What are you going to do for tonight?”

            “I’m going as a zombie again,” he said, leaning close to the mirror as he pressed on a bit of latex to make his face look rotted and peeling.

            “Good. Just make sure you take Matty trick-or-treating.”

            “Do I have to? I kind of already have plans with Chris and Logan.”

            “You promised, Trent,” she reminded him. “It’ll just be for an hour or two around the neighborhood. I’ll be home by nine. I need you to keep an eye on your brother.”

            “Mom, he’s old enough to go by himself,” Trent started, but she cut him off.

            “You promised when we got you that werewolf costume that you’d take lil Matty out trick-or-treating. I expect you to keep your promise. Your dad and I won’t be home until later, and someone needs to be there with him.”

            He mumbled something that sounded like “yeah” and hung up before she could lecture him about responsibility again.

            By the time the sun dipped behind the trees, Matt was bouncing around in a wrinkled skeleton costume, his old, hooded mask splattered with too much fake blood and a pillowcase clutched in one hand.

            “C’mon, Trent! You’re not even dressed!”

            Trent grunted, pulling on a hooded sweatshirt and grabbing the tattered remains of his werewolf mask. “This is my costume. I’m the sad werewolf who got mauled by a jerk in homeroom so now I’m a zombie. I’ll be done in a minute.”

            Matt snorted. “Ten outta ten. Real scary.”

            “Get outta here,” Trent said, shooing him toward the hallway. He gave himself one last look in the mirror, adjusted a flap of fake rotting skin, then flipped off the light and headed to his room to finish changing.

            Trent was still brushing fake blood off his fingers when he heard the slam of car doors and the low murmur of familiar voices coming from the front walk, followed by quick, impatient knocking.

            He opened the door to find Logan and Chris standing on the porch Logan dressed as Jeff the Killer, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled low, and Chris as Art the Clown from Terrifier, but his costume was cheap, making him look more like the bargain bin, temu version of the horror icon, clutching a garbage bag that clinked suspiciously in his hands.

            “Took you long enough,” Logan said. “You ready or what?”

            Trent sighed. “Can’t. Mom’s making me take my brother trick-or-treating.”

            Chris gave a mock pout. “Aww, big brother duty. Tragic.”

            From behind Trent, Matt’s voice piped up. “Who’s tragic?”

            “Your brother,” Logan said with a smirk. “We were gonna do something way more fun than candy-hunting, little man.”

            Trent shot him a warning look, but Matt was already interested. “Like what?”

            Chris grinned. “You know that creepy old Winchester place on Taramack Drive?”

            Matt’s eyes widened. “Where the vampire kid lives now?”

            Logan laughed. “See? Even your brother knows.”

            Trent crossed his arms. “You two are idiots. He’s just a kid. And I’ve thought about it we’re not going over there tonight.”

            “Oh, come on,” Chris said. “We’re not doing anything bad. Maybe just a few rolls of toilet paper. Classic Halloween tradition to welcome the new neighbors.”

            Trent groaned. “Yeah, I’m sure your ‘tradition’ doesn’t include a dozen or so eggs.”

            Matt perked up, clearly enjoying this. “I want to go.”

            Trent snapped, “No. You’re going home after trick-or-treating.”

            Matt’s grin turned sly. “Then I’ll tell Mom what you’re really doing tonight.”

            Logan raised his eyebrows. “Damn, kid’s got leverage.”

            Trent glared at Matt. “You get scared just walking past there, what makes you think you can actually go and not chicken out?”

            “I’m not scared,” Matt said, puffing out his chest. “You’re just saying that because you are.”

            Chris chuckled. “He’s got you pegged, man.”

            Trent rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Fine. You can come but you don’t wander off, and you do exactly what I say. Got it?”

            Matt grinned triumphantly. “Got it.”

            “But we still get to go trick-or-treating first, right?” Matt asked.

            “Well, I wouldn’t say no to a little candy,” Logan said.

            “Yeah,” Trent agreed. “We probably should. It’d look suspicious if we came home empty-handed.”

            They set off down the cracked sidewalk, the night already thick with laughter and the rustle of candy bags. Porch lights glowed like little beacons in the dark, but beyond them, the streets thinned out fewer kids, fewer lights. The kind of stretch where shadows moved differently.

            Somewhere beyond the trees, at the far edge of Taramack Drive, the Winchester house waited—windows dark, roof sagging, and not a single pumpkin on the porch.