Twilight Zone The Movie (11 page)

“Homewood. That’s downstate.”

“I know the place.” He nodded. “Nice town.”

Helen smiled. “If you say so.”

Over the continuing chatter of commentary issuing from the television came the sound of a phone ringing from the galley behind the counter. The proprietor turned and headed for it, leaving Helen to finish her coffee in peace.

But not for long.

From the television set the commentator’s voice rose in crescendo, heralding a climactic crisis in the final moments of the last quarter. Then it faded abruptly at the sound of repeated bangings. Helen swung around on her stool to watch the youngster belaboring the side of the video-game machine with the flat of his hands.

Overhead, the TV picture scrambled completely. One of the men at the table groaned and his companion turned to glare at the instigator of the interruption.

“Cut out that pounding!” he shouted. “You hear me?”

Ignoring him, the boy concentrated on the video-screen before him, then smacked the side of the machine again.

Helen stared uneasily, fumbling in her purse for change. All she wanted now was to get out of here before trouble started.

But it had already begun.

One of the men at the table pushed back his chair and rose quickly. It wasn’t until he stood up that Helen realized how big he was; over six feet tall, burly and broad-shouldered.

His companion looked up, gesturing. “Hey, Charlie, take it easy—”

Charlie wasn’t listening. He headed toward the video-game in a cold rage, grabbing the boy by the shoulder and shoving him roughly to one side. Then he stooped and ripped the plug of the machine from the wall. Caught off balance, the youngster stumbled and fell against the baseboard.

Almost before she realized it, Helen was on her feet. “Stop that!” she cried.

Suddenly there was silence, all eyes focussing on Helen as she moved to the far wall and helped the child to his feet.

As she did so, their eyes met briefly. To her surprise, Helen saw that the boy was smiling. Turning abruptly, he ran to the door, yanked it open, and raced out.

Embarrassed, the big man lowered his gaze, then moved away to resume his seat at the table.

Helen glanced toward the counter; behind it, the counterman stood staring, and his worried expression told her he’d returned in time to witness the altercation.

“Sorry, lady,” he murmured. “These guys—they take their sports real serious.”

Helen nodded. “Nice town.”

Moving to the door she made her exit, letting it slam behind her.

Only then did she relax.
Peace.

Crossing to her car, she shook her head in rueful self-reproval. Why had she allowed herself to lose her temper that way? What happened back there was really none of her business; but on the other hand, she had no choice. She just couldn’t stand to see a child mistreated that way. Thank goodness he hadn’t been hurt.

Reaching the car, Helen slid her key into the door lock, glancing around as she did so. The parking area was deserted; the boy had disappeared.

Probably ran all the way home, Helen decided. And yet he hadn’t seemed frightened.

Helen remembered the way he’d smiled when she’d helped him to his feet. There was something odd about that smile; was she imagining things, or had it conveyed a hint of secret understanding? Funny kid.

Funny Helen.
Sliding into the seat before the steering wheel, she shook her head, remembering her resolution. Time to forget about what had happened, time to put the show on the road and make it over to Willoughby before dark.

Closing the door, she glanced through the side window, noting with surprise that twilight had already descended. To emphasize its coming, a neon beer-sign blinked on above the café entrance.

Helen turned the key in the ignition and the motor started. As her foot found the gas pedal, she released her parking brake, put the car in reverse, and started to back out before turning toward the driveway exit.

Suddenly she glanced up at the rearview mirror just in time to see a blur of movement behind her. Through the twilight she caught a glimpse of the boy on a bicycle speeding directly across the lot behind her.

Quickly she floored the brake, but as the car screeched to a halt there was a sudden, sickening thud.

“Oh no!” she cried.

Wrenching the door open, Helen lunged out and headed around the side of the car at a dead run. Then she halted behind it, staring down in shock.

The boy was sprawled on the pavement beside his bike, eyes closed, breathing hard. Then, as she bent over him, his eyes opened.

“Are you all right?” Helen gasped.

The child nodded. “Yeah—I guess so—”

Helen knelt beside him. “Can you move your arms and legs?”

“Uh huh.”

As Helen watched anxiously, the youngster started to sit up.

“Easy there,” she said. “Tell me where it hurts.”

The boy rubbed his left shoulder. “Just here. I must’ve hit it when I fell off.” He smiled, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, it’s not broke or anything.”

He started to get up and Helen put her hand on his arm, slowing his movement. “Not too fast,” she said. “See if you can put your weight on your feet.”

“Sure—you see?” The boy stood erect, rubbing his shoulder. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, honest.”

Now, for the first time, Helen turned her attention to the bike. Its wheels lay bent and twisted beneath the rear tires of the car. The boy followed her stare, his smile of reassurance fading.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Helen turned to the youngster, speaking quickly. “Look, maybe you can get it fixed. I’ll pay for it—”

“That’s okay.” The youngster’s smile returned for a moment, then disappeared once more as he peered uncertainly around the dusk-dimmed parking area. “Do you think maybe you could give me a lift home? Before it gets dark?”

“Of course.” Helen nodded, then glanced at her car trunk frowning. “I’m afraid there’s no room for your bike, though. I’m moving and the backseat is loaded. The rest of my things are in the trunk.”

“I can get it tomorrow.” The boy bent down, tugging the bike free from beneath the tire, then dragged it across the lot and leaned it up against the wall of the café.

“You’re sure it’ll be safe there?” Helen said.

“Yeah. No sweat.” The youngster returned, moving around the side of the car to the passenger door. He waited while Helen slid into the driver’s seat and leaned over to unlock the door, then pushed it open so that he could enter.

As he settled down beside her, closing the door, she released the brake and started up the motor again. The car moved forward to the edge of the road. There it halted as Helen glanced at her passenger.

“Which way?” she asked.

“Make a left.” The youngster nodded up at her. “The same way you’re going.”

Helen blinked. “How do you know which way I’m going?”

“I heard you talking back there.”

“Did you now? You’ve got good ears.”

The car picked up speed, moving down the road in the gathering twilight. There was no traffic and as Helen switched on her headlights, their glow seemed to emphasize the darkness of the lonely countryside ahead.

She peered through the windshield, waiting to catch a glimpse of the filling station that the counterman had mentioned, but now she felt the boy’s hand nudge her arm.

“Turn here,” he said, indicating a side road branching off through the trees at their right.

Helen slowed the car, glancing dubiously at the narrow lane revealed in the headlights’ beam.

The boy sensed her indecision. “Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s not far now.”

Helen turned off into the opening between the trees, then turned the headlights up to bright as she steered a cautious course along the rutted roadway.

Beside her the boy glanced up again. “Are you moving to Willoughby?” he asked.

Helen glanced at him, amused. “You heard me say that, too, I guess.”

He nodded. “How come you left Homewood?”

Helen hesitated, as for a moment her amusement faded. The little devil—he really
had
been listening! But that didn’t give the kid the right to pry into her business.

Then again, what difference did it make? Might as well answer—if she could. Why had she left Homewood? A good question.

She shrugged, searching for the right words. “I don’t know—I guess I was looking for something and didn’t find it there.”

The boy nodded. “What about your folks?”

“They’re both gone.”

“You mean they’re dead?”

Helen nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

“Oh.” There was a note of concern in the small voice now. “Don’t you have
anybody?”

“Not anymore. I’m all alone.”

Beside her the boy sat silent for a moment. Then, suddenly, he held out his hand, smiling.

“My name is Anthony,” he said.

Helen released her right hand from the steering wheel and gripped the small palm in her own. “Helen,” she said.

Anthony turned gravely. “I’m very glad to meet you, Helen.”

Now Helen turned her attention to the roadway once again. The car bumped along the narrow lane between the black border of towering trees.

“You really live quite aways out here, don’t you?” Helen glanced down. “Your parents must be getting worried about you.”

“Not really.”

“No?”

Anthony shook his head. “They don’t care when I come home. I could come home at
midnight
and they wouldn’t care.”

Helen smiled at him indulgently. “Midnight, Anthony?”

“Yes.” The boy paused for a moment, then continued. “It’s my
birthday
today and they don’t even care about
that!”

Helen stared at him, startled. “You’re kidding! Really?”

He nodded forlornly and her heart went out to him. “What a crummy birthday!”

“I’m okay.” Anthony glanced up with a cheerful grin. “I made a friend.”

Helen brightened. “Me too,” she said.

Quite suddenly, the car emerged from the woods.

Peering through the windshield, Helen was surprised to see that the road ahead ran in a straight line between fields covered by parched grass. This was obviously farmland, but it lay fallow and unplanted, weeds its only crop. Under the dark and moonless sky, the horizon receded into deeper shadows without any evidence of lighted dwellings. It looked like the middle of nowhere.

Then, quite abruptly, the car’s headlights focused on a white two-story house looming up directly ahead at the far end of the road.

As they approached, Helen noted that the architecture was Victorian, like something out of an old picture-book, rising from a complementary setting of green lawn surrounded by a white picket fence. It seemed as out of place here as if it had been dropped from the sky.

Helen parked before the gateway, noting as she did so that there were lights faintly visible behind the closed shutters.

“Here we are,” said Anthony.

They got out of the car and Helen moved around the side to join the boy as he started forward and opened the fence gate.

Together they moved up the walk bisecting the neat, well-trimmed lawn.

“What a lovely house!” Helen murmured.

Anthony seemed pleased by her reaction. “You like it?”

Helen nodded. “It’s so peaceful. Way out here by itself.”

Nearing the front door, Helen was surprised to see three cars standing in the shadows before the left-hand side of the structure. She couldn’t make out details too clearly, but in the dim light she got a curious impression that they were coated with a fine layer of dust.

Anthony followed her gaze and she nodded toward him. “Three-car family, right?”

He smiled but made no reply. Stepping forward, he opened the front door. Chimes jangled faintly against a tinny background of music issuing from somewhere within.

Anthony gestured toward the open doorway. “C’mon in,” he said.

Helen moved across the threshold and the boy followed her, closing the door behind him. They stood in a hallway lighted by old-fashioned wall lamps. A staircase rose directly ahead, leading to the floor above.

Now that the front door had closed, the music’s fast jerky tempo was louder; it seemed to be coming from the doorway of the room down the hall at their left.

Anthony took Helen’s hand and started toward it, then halted at the entrance just long enough for Helen to get a fleeting glimpse of the room beyond.

It was here that she discovered the source of the music: its ricky-ticky rhythm emanated from the television set against the far wall as cartoon figures leaped and bounded across the flickering screen.

Both the images on the tube and the television itself seemed oddly incongruous in this setting. The darkened parlor looked almost like a reproduction of a Currier and Ives print; the red plush carpet was heavy, the overstuffed furniture massive, the fireplace against the right wall surmounted by a huge marble mantel.

Now, rising from behind high-backed chairs placed directly before the television screen, an elderly man and a young girl turned toward the doorway with startled stares. For a moment Helen had the curious impression that both of them were less than pleased at this sudden invasion, but almost instantly their faces broke into bright, toothy smiles as they hurried forward, nodding at the boy beside her.

“Hi, Anthony!” They spoke simultaneously, then fell silent, turning their attention to Helen.

Again she sensed a momentary reaction of uneasiness in their glances, but it was quickly dispelled as their smiles returned.

Beside her, the small, dark-haired boy nodded, his brown eyes fixed upon their faces. “This is Helen,” he said.

The elderly man’s features creased into a genial grin. “Helen! Delighted to meet you! Any friend of Anthony’s—”

“Hello there!” The girl’s voice rose over his as she nodded at their visitor.

“This is Uncle Walt and my sister, Ethel,” Anthony said.

Helen smiled. “How do you do?”

In the moment that followed, she had an opportunity to sort out her impressions, noting that Uncle Walt must be in his early sixties. Although he wore a checkered sport shirt and casual blue jeans, his trendy attire could not conceal the stooped shoulders and the thinness of his limbs. In contrast, Ethel was quite plump; she appeared to be about sixteen, and the bulging body beneath her blouse and skirt betokened the results of overindulgence in junk food. Her face, framed by long strands of lusterless blond hair, wore a bovine look.