By Timothy Lantz

"You sure we should be doin’ this?"

Benny looked Sal in the face. "What’s a matter Sal, scarred the boogey man is gonna get you?"

"Har Har, very funny." Sal stated sarcastically. "I’m just sayin’ is all. It’s Halloween."

"Sal, Halloween is just kid’s stuff for chrissakes. I think you been watchin’ too many movies. It’s makin’ your head soft."

The two men sit quietly looking out through the windshield. Above the trees, a round, full, moon illuminates a cloudless night.

"Look, if you want to call it off..."

"Naw, it’s okay. I mean, we’re here right? No sense puttin’ it off. We’d just have to drive out here again and the sooner we get outta the sticks the better. These cornfields give me the creeps. I don’t know how people can live out here like this."

Benny smiles at Sal’s obvious discomfort. "Most folks round here, probably say the same thing about the city. Always afraid of the crime, or the noise, or the pollution or some such thing."

"Crime never bothers me."

"Yeah? Why’s that?"

Sal flicks open the cylinder of his .38, checking to see if it’s loaded. He spins it and snaps it shut, a big toothy grin on his face. "Cause we’re the ones doing the crime."

The two men sit laughing when suddenly a light appears in the farmhouse window. Benny notices it first and he slaps Sal on the arm.

"There’s our cue."

Outside, the ground is hard and the grass brittle. It crunches a little as they move toward the farmhouse, though it actually feels worse than it sounds and neither pays it any attention. A heavy wind is busy shaking the trees, the rush covering any sound their footsteps might be making.

"How you wanna do this?"

"I gotta figure we have the element o’ surprise on this one. Know what I’m sayin’? Best if we just use the front door."

"Yeah, ol’ Nicky’s gonna piss himself when he sees us. Why I bet he..." Sal stops mid sentence, his attention drawn to the edge of the corn field.

About 50 yards from the two men, a small child stands silently watching them. He’s dressed in a store-bought Halloween costume - the words "Star Trek" written boldly across the front of his vinyl outfit, a Mr. Spock mask on his face.

"Benny?"

"I see him Sal."

"Who?"

"Probably some farmer’s kid."

"What’ll we do? We been made."

"Relax, it’s pretty dark. He couldn’t have seen our faces. Just keep walking."

Sal does what he’s told. The two move closer to the farmhouse. As they approach the steps they can hear the hushed tones of a conversation, followed by the sound of a man laughing.

Benny smiles. "Good ol’ Nicky. I’d know that fat bastard’s laugh anywhere. You ready?"

Sal, motionless, is staring at the cornfield. "The kid..."

Benny turns around. There’s no sign of the child. "What? He slipped into the corn. Probably went home."

"No. He just disappeared."

"Whataya mean disappeared?"

"Just vanished. Like Houdini."

Benny stared deep into the darkness of the field. "Bullshit. Just your eyes playing tricks on you."

"Maybe, but I was watching him. He didn’t turn or nothin’, just... poof." Sal flicked his hand in the air for emphasis.

"Poof." Benny mocked Sal’s gesture. "Get the fuck out of here with that. Look, we’re two seconds away from doin’ this here and you’re playing fucking schoolgirl. You gotta focus. I need you to back me up here."

Sal stands silent looking at the field.

"Sal?"

Sal, shakes his head, focuses on Benny’s face. "Yeah, yeah. I got your back." He looks back toward the field.

Benny snaps his fingers in front of Sal’s face.

"Right. Fuck. Alright let’s do this." Sal takes his pistol out of his coat pocket, nods at Benny.

Benny looks him in the eye, long and hard.

"What?"

"Alright." Benny’s hand produces a pistol from inside his coat. "Follow my lead."

The two men blitz the door, their heavy footsteps pound the wooden floorboards of the old porch giving away their approach. It’s quick enough that it doesn’t matter. Benny kicks the door in with his foot, sending the rotten wood splintering in all directions.

Inside, a fat man sits slumped over in the corner, his heavy head resting on his chest. The red trail down the front of his shirt clearly indicates that his throat’s been cut.

"What the fuck?"

A door slams in the back of the house.

Sal and Benny waste no time. They push their way down a dark hallway in the direction of the sound. Emerging in what appears to have once been a kitchen, the two stop short of an open doorway, an ancient screen door all that stands between them and the outside world.

"Easy." Benny places a hand on Sal’s shoulder.

Cautiously, they creep closer to the door peering out into the night. A shadowed form plunges into the corn field.

Benny pushes open the screen door and starts off in the same direction. Sal follows close behind. As they exit the house, the wind seems to pick up. A wave ripples through the corn.

Sal stops, grabs Benny jacket. "Wait."

Benny shrugs off Sal’s hand, gives him a stern look. Sal looking past Benny simply points.

Curious, Benny turns.

At the edge of the cornfield, the small child stands where the shadowed form fled. His hands remain at his sides, but he’s shaking his head no. It’s clearly a warning.

"Ben?"

"Shut up Sal... just. Just, shut up."

They turn and walk back to their car. Neither saying a word.