When the Creatures Call

1. Best Day of Summer

1 BEST DAY OF SUMMER

After telling his younger brother to hustle it up, Oliver turned away from the ice-cream truck thinking, this might be the best day of the summer yet.

The sun shined, but wasn’t burning, and Dad had toted them up to the city park to bang the basketball against the unforgiving backboards and rims.

It wasn’t often Dad pulled away from work for an entire morning to spend time with Ollie and his brother, so when it happened, woo-boy it sure seemed the treat. Topping it off, after a few games of H-O-R-S-E and a round or two of Lightning, the familiar tunes of an ice-cream truck rolled down the street. In the most unlikely behavior, Dad had opened his wallet and handed over a ten to Ollie and told both he and Noah to go ahead and splurge. Dad didn’t know a whole lot about the prices of an ice-cream truck, because a ten spot certainly wasn’t going to allow a ten-year-old and his younger bro to splurge, but hey, like Dad so often pontificated, beggars couldn’t be choosers. So off they’d raced waving down the ice cream truck. They were even first in line when the truck pulled over, and a small cluster of kids had gathered behind them.

Ollie ordered a double-scoop Superman waffle cone and Noah after some hemming and hawing settled on a Peanut Butter Dream Ice Cream Bar. Ollie paid the worker, received what minimal change was left, and together, he and Noah started back towards the courts already feasting on their summertime treats.

“Either of you two playboys ever been with a woman before?” a low voice called over to them.

The question was so odd to their innocent ears it halted the brothers in their tracks.

A white panel van had appeared out of nowhere. It idled on the side of road that cut a path all the way through the municipal park. They’d just come from this direction; Ollie could see the basketball court not far in the background where his dad lounged in the sunlight with his back propped against the ball. Ollie was certain just minutes before when he and his brother had led the scampering charge to the ice cream truck that the van hadn’t been there.

The driver’s door swung open with immediacy, and in an instant the man rocked himself out of the van. He made his way around the front of the van and stood before the boys, beaming a smile that was all things but trustworthy, at least in Ollie’s eyes.

“Well, have ya? Been with a woman?”

The voice was odd, the question even odder.

A cold feeling of ice slid down Ollie’s back.

Despite his parents’ unending warnings to beware, he’d always come away feeling foolish for his cagey behavior when encountering strangers.

But this? This felt different from the word go.

Maybe it was the van itself. Maybe it was the dark tint to the driver’s glasses or the sweat-stained, dusty ball cap. Maybe it was the silver skull-ring on his finger or the dark, coarse hair popping from the back of his hand and up his arm. Whatever it was, something inside Ollie was screaming that this was the exact moment Mom and Dad had tried to prepare Noah and him for whenever having the stranger-danger discussion. It was more than off; it was wrong.

They were supposed to ignore the man and turn away. If the man came at them, the tactic was to run and yell for help.

Instead, Ollie had stopped. He’d stopped nearly everything.

Stopped walking.

Stopped licking his Superman ice cream.

Stopped breathing.

He even stopped being aware that he was a big brother and unconsciously his hand groped for Noah’s, not to offer comfort but rather receive it.

Not only that, but the rest of the world seemed to have stopped. Ollie’s focus narrowed to the man in the dark glasses and the white panel van.

“I’ll just take that as a no then,” the man said. “The name is Stu and I got something reeeaaal special for one of ya’s in the back of this here van,” the man said. With an open palm he banged against the back sliding door. “Now no fightin’ over this. I knows how brothers like to scrap from time to time, but we’ll be fair and square in deciding who gets this special treat. Now promise me, no fightin’.”

“No fightin’,” Noah repeated, even taking to Stu’s drawl.

“I agree,” Ollie said, wondering why he was taking part in this conversation instead of turning heel. Despite the words feeling so detached from himself, he continued, “I won’t fight my brother.”

This was inexplicable. Ollie was scared. It might have been appropriate to think of his state of mind as scared as hell, yet his feet stayed frozen to the spot.

“Good enough for me,” Stu nodded. He grasped the back door handle, but before sliding it open, he said, “Now wait a minute here, playboys. You two wouldn’t be trying to pull a fast one on me, now wouldja? How can I be sure you’re of proper age? Hey, hot-rod, how old are you?” Stu nodded towards Noah.

Don’t answer him, Ollie thought. Please whatever you do don’t say anything, because once we start talking, we won’t be able to get out of this. I know I’m the older brother, and I’m supposed to look out for us at a time like this, but somehow I can’t, but I think I could if you’d just stay quiet, Noah.

“I’m eight,” Noah said.

“Oh, alright,” Stu said, and took off his cap to slap his thigh agreeably. Dust jumped from the hat. “Eight’ll do. And how ‘bout you, big brother? What’s your age?”

He knew he shouldn’t answer, knew he should turn and run while yanking his brother along.

“Ten,” he said.

The man set his hat back proper and whistled through unmoving lips. “Double-digits, eh? Big man you are.”

With that, Stu yanked the back door, and it flew open. WHHHOOOMPH!

The back of the van had been modified into a small bed chamber.

The woman on the cot was the epitome of desire. She was raised up to her knees, straight-backed, and her fiercely blue eyes stared straight out at Ollie and his brother.

Ollie had seen sexualized women on the internet and TV, but nothing like this in real life.

She wore a thin, almost see-through, white fabric that had been cinched and tied to resemble a bikini. Her golden skin sheened with a thin layer of sweat. She breathed deeply—cravingly—and with each breath her chest thrust up and out in display. Shackles wrapped her thin wrists and rusted large-link chains hung from mounted eyelets in the van’s ceiling, securing the woman.

Slut.

The word surfaced to Ollie’s mind unbidden. A dirty word, a nasty word. A word Ollie had never spoken aloud and also a word he just plain didn’t like being in his thoughts. Yet, there it was in all its naked glory.

Slut.

It couldn’t be all bad though. How could something that was making his skin tingle this way be a bad thing?

“Take a good look at her, playboys,” the man said. “She’s quite the tart ain’t she?”

Next to him, Ollie heard his brother gasp, “Yes, sir!”

Only now did Ollie notice how tight the front of his own shorts had become. Oh man, he liked what he was seeing, but he didn’t want that to happen, not out here in the middle of the public park.

Panicked, he looked around, but to his relief saw that nobody was paying any attention to them.

“Best part is,” Stu chuckled, “one of you two playboys is gonna climb right up in there and get a round with her. Don’t that sound peachy?”

Ollie turned his attention back to the woman. Oh, hell yes, he wanted to climb up and onto that cot with the goddess before them. He’d agreed not to fight his brother, but that was before he’d known what was being offered. He didn’t know the rules of how one was chosen, but all bets were off about him not taking a round out of Noah if that’s what he had to do.

That body and her entirely sexually charged posture, yeah, he’d fight for that. Even more, her face was to die for—those intense eyes, those slightly parted lips.

Suddenly the face rearranged, and it was the most disturbing thing Ollie had ever seen in his ten years.

The nose had stopped atop her forehead. The blue as the summer sky eyes had split up, one ending right next to the out of place nose at the top of the disfigured face and the other staring out from below a delicate but high cheek bone. The s*x creature hissed, exposing razor teeth inside the mouth which now ran vertical along the opposite cheek.

The face spun again, this time a complete blur like a slot machine gone haywire. All of her features seemed to run together creating a visual vortex where her face should have been. All at once the features abruptly locked properly into place.

It was still feminine, but was it even human? She had long, pointy ears. Her mouth had grown into a bestial protrusion, a slender muzzle with rippling lips exposing razor teeth. Her eyes were now cold, black ice all the way through with nothing, nothing, within or behind them remotely human.

The sheer shock of the transformation knocked Ollie back a step.

“Uh-uh,” Ollie muttered, his voice filled with a tremor.

“Now listen here, big brother,” the man at the van calmly spoke. “I know what you’re thinkin’, and you probably ain’t entirely wrong. But the shits of it is, one of you is gettin’ in that van and that’s just how it’s gonna be? I can’t answer all the ways of the world, boy. I don’t even remember why or who made me guardian over that beautiful queen in there,” he thumbed over his shoulder. “Alls I know is, I am. Alls I know is it’s my duty, and I’ve been doing it for a long, long time. I also know this is inescapable. Now watch this.”

“Noah,” Ollie said urgently, hoping to cut off Stu before he went on. “We gotta f*****g run.”

Stu seemed not to care. He cupped his hands around his mouth and arched his back in an effort to get the most projection. In the loudest voice Ollie had ever heard, Stu hollered, “HEEELLLP! HELP ME! I’M ‘BOUT TO DO SOMETHING AWFUL TO ONE OF THESE TWO ALL-AMERICAN BOYS, AND I REALLY DON’T WANT TO DO IT! CAN’T SOMEBODY HELP PUT A STOP TO ALL THIS MADNESS?”

Stu dropped his hands, frowned over at Ollie and Noah.

“Ya see,” Stu said, with a matter-of-fact expression. “It’s inevitable, kid. That succubus is gonna have one of ya. The only question is which?”

Olli knew the man was right, knew as much as he knew his own name. There was no escape, no way out of the situation because not one soul in the park seemed to even care about what was happening. Ollie even saw his dad swishing jump shot after jump shot at the basketball court. Dad was completely unaware of the life shaking event transpiring. It was a plain fact that the only way this situation was ever going to end was if either he or his brother went to the succubus, and Ollie wanted no part of that.

Little Noah, however, he’d been transfixed with the creature in the van from the moment the door had been opened.

Better him than me, Ollie thought, and let go of his brother’s shoulder.

Robotically Noah faced him, held out his ice cream bar, and when Ollie took it, Noah peeled away.

The succubus hungrily groped with her claws even as Noah leapt.

WHOOOOOMPH! The back door slammed shut like a sprung trap.

The van began to rock on its tires as if being buffeted by high winds. A mixture of screams and howls erupted from inside the van—none of it sounding pleasurable. The most god-awful orange glow lit up the van’s front windows.

The screams went on, and on, and on.

The glow intensified.

The van rocked so violently Ollie thought it would tip.

Suddenly, the screams ceased.

The glow hit its apex and then faded like a heartbeat’s death.

“Ya’ll satisfied in there?” the man asked and pounded a fist against the van’s side.

No response.

The van was completely still, and the man chuckled.

“Well, big brother, I guess that about wraps it up,” the man said as if he’d buried the family bird.

The shock of what had occurred, rooted Ollie in place.

The man ambled around the front of the van all the while continuing his explanation, “Ain’t never been a hangin’ or sacrifice been undone. No reason to feel no shame. Neither you nor I could prevent it.” Near the driver’s door he propped his elbows and leaned on the hood. He offered a cursory smile before looking skyward. “Hell, I can’t even explain it.”

“I want my brother back,” Ollie mumbled.

“It just don't work that way.” The man climbed in and once more the van rocked on its undercarriage.

Ollie watched, desperate but unable to act, as the man leaned over the steering wheel and fired the van to life.

The van reversed, stopped, and the passenger side window slid down.

“Life will move on for ya’,” the man called over to Ollie. He winked, dropped the transmission into drive. “Just see if it don’t.”

The van rolled forward, and with silent tears running down his cheeks, Ollie watched until it was out of sight.

The melting ice cream running down his hands was what finally broke Ollie’s trance.

“Awww, s**t,” he moaned. His hands were going to be all sticky unless he went and washed them. He glanced to see if anyone had heard him cuss.

Nope, but so what if they had? What would be the big deal? The world was full of people that swore. s**t, the world was full of things one thousand times worse than swearing—like murderers and kidnappers.

He shook his head. Why was he thinking of all this terrible stuff?

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there, but it must have been a bit, because the crowd of children and the ice cream truck were gone. His ice cream was melting all over the place.

But why was he holding two ice cream treats?

Oh yeah, one was for Dad.

Good old Dad.

There wasn’t any reason to keep standing here like a statue mounted in place. It wasn’t every day he got to spend all this free time with Dad. These were the best days to Ollie, just he and Dad hanging together. These were the days he lived for.

Would even kill for.

Ollie turned and ran to his father, scampering a bit more excitedly than he thought a boy his age should. But what the hell?—even as an only child alone time with a dad as busy as his was to be cherished.

“Hey, where’s you’re uhhh…” Dad started but halted. A perplexed look jumped to his face like he’d been asked a question he should’ve known the answer to but for the life of him couldn’t drum up an answer. He blinked, stared off searchingly. Blinked again.

“Where’s what?” Ollie asked. He offered the melting Peanut Butter Dream Ice Cream Bar to his dad.

“Nothing, it’s just I could’ve sworn for a second that…” Ollie’s father’s voice trailed off, and then his hands went to his temples and massaged as if trying to relieve the onset of a migraine. He turned to survey the entire park and when he finished the 360 his brow had scrunched to complete bewilderment. “Does everything feel alright to you, Ollie?”

“Feels like the best day of summer yet,” Ollie said, and practically pushed the ice cream bar into his dad’s face. “Don’t let your ice cream melt any more than it already has.”

“Best day of summer?” his dad said as if feeling the phrase out, and this time he received the ice cream bar and licked it. He pulled away from it questioningly. “What’s this? You know I love cookie dough.”

“Yeah,” Ollie admitted with a shrug, “guess I forgot.”

“I’m not going let it ruin the so-called best day of summer yet,” Ollie’s father said. He reached out to ruffle the top of Ollie’s hair, and then as if to be certain Ollie knew he wasn’t upset said, “Life moves on, I guess.”

Father and son turned and ambled back to the basketball court. They finished the ice cream and then continued to work on Ollie’s game. Ollie couldn’t recall the last time he’d had Dad’s undivided attention for any length of time—it always seemed someone interrupted them.

They played so long that hours later when the ice cream truck rolled through a second time Ollie’s dad once again dug out his wallet.

Best day of summer.