�There it is, kids! The Tabor family cabin!�
�Hooray!� Mindy shouted, playfully mocking Mom�s announcement.
�Yippie!� Mike joined in.
The twins laughed from the Expedition�s middle row.
In the backseat, Tim sat up. He wasn�t happy to be here. This was the
final trip before the last of the Tabor kids went off to college, the Tabor
kids that mattered anyway.
Mindy was going to a prestigious private school on the East Coast. Mike
was going on basketball scholarship to UCLA.
�All right, children,� Dad said, pulling beside the cabin. �Do you think
you could help unpack before you run off?�
�Sure thing, Pop,� Mike said.
�Right on it,� Mindy agreed.
The twins got out and sprinted toward the lake. They both jumped from the
dock, not seeming to care that the water was always cold or that they were
still fully dressed.
Dad laughed as he got out. So did Mom.
Tim got out and looked around. The tract of land was big and private, the
lake on one side, the forest on the other.
�I was hoping Matt would be here,� Mom said.
Tim didn�t want to think about Matt, who had stayed pretty close to home,
going to college at Michigan State, but would leave for a law school in
Florida after this week.
�Come on, little brother!� shouted Mindy.
�Yeah! Jump in!� shouted Mike as he dunked her.
�Go ahead, buddy,� Dad said.
Tim looked at his mom. She understood that he wouldn�t enjoy the cold
water or the rambunctious state of his siblings.
Mom had always tried to save his feelings. It would have broken her heart
to know he�d listened in on a recent conversation she and Mindy had about
him.
�No girl will ever want to be with him,� Mindy had told Mom.
�That�s not true,� Mom had said. �Sometimes girls like to go slumming.�
Tim tried to shake off the memory.
�We better get your allergy medicine unpacked and in you before you start
sneezing,� Mom said.
�Yeah,� Tim said, making his way toward the door.
***
The cabin had two bedrooms, one for Mom and Dad, one for Tim. His three
siblings would sleep outside in a pair of tents.
They�d held off on dinner until around nine, but Matt still hadn�t showed.
�Why hasn�t he called?� Mom asked.
�You know Matt,� Dad responded. �He probably knows we�re having fun and
doesn�t want to interrupt.�
Tim went bed shortly after dinner.
He lay there and thought about the upcoming year. He would be in the tenth
grade. There wouldn�t be a big brother to scare away those who might
otherwise make his life a living hell. He wondered where they would attack
first. Would it be his bushy hair or his meager body? Tim cried himself
to sleep.
***
Awake! There was noise.
He sat up in the pitch dark.
�Die! Die! Die!� mixed with heavy guitars and drums came from somewhere.
The song faded and the rough sounding voice of the DJ came on.
�This is Jack at KLM Radio. Man do I love that song!�
Tim tried to locate the source of the sound, but it seemed to be all around.
�The group is Razor Head. The name of the song is Die Bastard. It goes
out to Matt Tabor.�
Tim shook his head. Was this a dream?
�That�s right, Tim. I�m talking about Big Bro. Die bastard is exactly
what I said while cutting his head off with a hacksaw.�
There was an electric burp, then silence.
His heart thumped madly in his chest. He was afraid to breathe at all. He
curled up and tried to be as quiet as possible.
There was the squeaking sound of his door opening.
�Please!� he said. �Please!�
The light came on.
�Tim. Honey. Are you all right?�
It was Mom.
�Did you have a nightmare?�
He nodded. He started to feel embarrassed. He was fifteen years old and
crying.
�Come here,� Mom said.
She sat there, holding him. He felt even smaller than before. He was glad
the twins couldn�t see this.
After a while, he started to feel tired. He reached that place where fear
and embarrassment didn�t matter. He was ready to sleep again. He felt her
lay his body down.
***
There was a sound. Tim came to. He sat up, waiting for the DJ�s voice.
Seconds passed, but it didn�t come.
There was light shining in his room. Mom had left the door open, and she
had left a light on. There was nothing to worry about. He was safe and
warm, surrounded by the people who cared about him.
Not all of them.
Tim wanted to ignore that thought and go back to sleep. He couldn�t.
He crept out of bed. He opened the curtain and looked out. In the
moonlight, he could see two tents. Matt�s car still wasn�t there.
There was an electric burp, then static.
Tim stiffened. A whimper escaped his mouth.
�Another great song,� the DJ�s voice said. �That one�s called Window of My
Heart. It�s by a young gal named Lucy Love.�
The DJ laughed.
�There�s no window in my heart, but I see a window with a little boy in it.�
Tim dove to the floor. He closed his eyes. He covered his ears.
Seconds passed, and no one came to his rescue.
�Mommmmm!� Tim screamed out. Without thinking about it, he let his hands
fall from his ears. He heard the DJ.
�I�ve got Mom and Dad. They�re not saying much, though, because I cut
their tongues out. I�ll see you soon.�
There was the electric burp of the radio shutting off. Then there was the
sound of a door opening.
***
�Tim, are you okay?�
It wasn�t Mom. It was Mindy.
He was about to call her when the light coming into his room grew. Mindy
had turned on the living room light. She screamed.
�What is it?� came Mike�s voice. Then he yelled, �My God, is that blood?�
Tim hurried into the living room.
Mike was scanning the room in shock. Mindy was on her knees, looking
across the floor, her face as white as a ghost.
Mike looked at Tim. His stare was inquisitive. He looked away.
�Oh, no,� Mike said, looking down at Mindy. �Do you think it�s him?�
�Who?�
�The one Mom told us about. The one we�re never supposed to talk about.�
Mindy�s face was still. She finally whispered, �I don�t know.�
Mike darted across the living room and down the hall. There was the sound
of a door opening.
Mike came back and looked down at Mindy again. �They�re gone. It must be
him.�
Mike stared hard at Tim again. Then he looked around until his eyes fell
upon a cell phone sitting on the mantel above the fireplace. He darted
over and picked it up. He tried to turn it on, then glared at it in
horror.
�Damn!� he shouted. �It doesn�t work!�
�It was him,� Mindy said through sobs. �He broke it.�
Mike ran out again. He came back with the keys and Dad�s pistol.
�Both of you,� he said. �Get in the Expedition.�
�But . . .� Mindy whimpered, then she looked at Tim.
�We�re all going,� Mike demanded. �Let�s go!�
Tim was the first out the door. He got in back. Mike got in the driver�s
seat and Mindy into the passenger�s.
Mike turned the key, but the engine didn�t make a sound.
Mike�s head shot to Mindy, who was looking back at him.
There was the electric burp and then the static.
The end of a song played, as both Mike and Mindy darted glances around,
trying to find the source. It was like in the room. The music seemed to
come from all around.
�That was an old one by the Mamas and Papas. Not your Mama and Papa,
though. They�re in the woods now. The wolves should be feeding on them
soon.�
The electronic burp ended the transmission.
Mindy curled up in her seat and cried. Mike was busy digging under his
seat. He pulled something up and inspected it.
�It�s like a little speaker,� Mike said. �They must be all over.�
Mike paused for a few seconds, then said. �It�s him, and we know what he
wants. I think we have to let him have it.�
He turned to Tim in the backseat. �Mindy and I are going to leave now.
You have to stay here.�
�No,� Tim muttered as his brother opened the front door. �I�m coming with
you.�
Mike shot around. �I�m sorry, Tim. You have to stay.�
In the dark, Tim barely saw his brother swing. The blow to his head caused
him to see lights.
From somewhere, he heard Mike shout, �Come on, Mindy!�
A couple of doors slammed. Consciousness faded.
***
When Tim came to, it was still dark. His head throbbed.
He felt his forehead. The entire right side was swollen.
Why had Mike hit him? Why had they left him behind? The questions made
his head hurt worse. He stopped thinking them, when he heard the electric
burp.
Tim jumped to the door, hit the door handle and rolled out.
He made his way toward the road. There�d be no speakers there.
There was something ahead. No, there was two of something. Tim moved a
little closer but didn�t go all the way to the two piles. He just got
close enough to know that the voice had killed the twins.
Tim lay down on the road. How could he go on without his family?
There was the crunching sound of footsteps.
Tim sucked in his breath, hoping against hope that whoever was coming would
just walk by him.
The footsteps came closer. There was no denying that they were aimed at
him. He thought of Mike. Mike had once been a Boy Scout. He had always
been prepared.
The footsteps were still coming. It was time to make up his mind.
Lie here and die. Or get up and fight.
No one would fight his battles for him now. He was the last Tabor.
Tim got up.
�Hello, Tim,� the DJ�s voice said.
Tim moved away from his voice and toward his brother.
�Don�t run from me, Tim. I won�t hurt you. I want to be your friend. I
want us to be together now.�
Tim stumbled, falling to his knees. The throbbing of his head had
intensified. He could barely sense the rest of his body. He tried to get
up but could not.
�I didn�t want to scare you, but I had to. You had to see what you are.�
Suddenly, it all made sense. Had he known it all along and just never
admitted it to himself? Mom and Dad had known. The twins had known.
Surely, Matt had known too.
Did it matter now?
Hell no!
Tim crawled the last few feet to his dead brother. He pulled the pistol
from the back of his pants. He turned around and fired two shots at the
shadowy figure.
He threw himself forward, away from his brother�s corpse, then allowed
consciousness to fade.
***
Tim awoke to daylight. The putrid smell made him want to gag. He got up,
not wanting to look at the twins again. He did want to see the man he�d
shot.
Tim found him on the road, as dead as the others. There was one hole in
his neck and another between his eyes.
There was still enough of his face left to recognize the truth. The
resemblance was undeniable. His mother�s words echoed in his head.
�Sometimes, girls like to go slumming.�
END