In Laymon's Terms

They were supposed to be back home, sleeping in their tree house like they often did when the summer nights got too hot and the air inside the house became stale to the point of suffocation. The moment the light in their mother’s bedroom had been turned off, Mark had roused his brother and forced him down the tree to bring him into the dark forest where they now stood. If their mother knew what they were up to, she’d surely ground them for a week and serve their heads on a silver platter with tomorrow’s diner. They had to be careful not to wake her up. They had to be as quiet as they possibly could.

He permitted himself to speak only once the house was far behind them, hidden by the tall oak trees of the dense forest.

“Come on, Billy. We don’t want to be gone too long.”

“I told you I’m tired. Where’re we going anyways?”

“Old man Bradley’s farm,” Mark replied with a grin on his face.

At that, his little brother stopped dead in his tracks and stared back at him with a glimmer of fear in his eyes. Slowly, he shook his head.

“Nah-ah. I’m not going out there. Mom says that man’s crazy.”

“What’s gonna happen, huh? Tommy told me that he found old bones in Bradley’s barn and I want to see them for myself.”

“Tommy’s a big fat liar, and you know it!”

“Yeah, well, I just wanna see things out for myself. If you don’t wanna come, fine, turn around. But you’ll have to walk back by yourself.”

Mark turned around and resumed his walking. He knew Billy would follow him. His little brother would never venture through the forest at night on his own. He wouldn’t even enter the woods on his own during daytime. After a few seconds of walking, he shot a quick glance over his shoulder to see Billy closely following him, his tiny legs trotting quickly on the dirt trail to keep up with him. They didn’t utter another word as they made their way through the maze of trees and shrubs until finally, the old house appeared before their eyes.

Everything around the farmhouse was dark and still. Even the gentle summer breeze seemed to disappear as they reached the house in which old man Bradley had barricaded himself for the last decade or so. Folks in town said the old man would only come out of that house to hunt for food or to fetch his mail from the mailbox he had planted at the side of the road nearly a quarter of a mile away from the house. At least, that’s how the story went.

“We’ll just take a quick peek into the barn and then we’ll both be able to prove that Tommy’s a liar. We’ll be quick. Promise.” Billy didn’t answer him, too stricken with fear to say anything.

He gave his brother a quick playful punch on the arm and snorted at him before returning his eyes toward the dark house that loomed before them.

He could see them now, those little creatures. They were coming for him. But he’d have the last laugh this time. He’d get those little bastards good. They wouldn’t come around these parts again once he was finished with them.

The creatures had first showed themselves a few months ago, after those strange bright lights had appeared in the sky. That night, they had swarmed his land, knocking on the walls of his house and making the dirty windows rattle as they tried to find a way to seep into his home. And they’d come back many nights after that. Not every night, though just often enough to annoy and scare the hell out of him.

He pumped the shotgun, loading a shell into the barrel, ready to fire the moment they’d show their ugly faces.

He could see them crawl through the woods now, making the leaves shudder and cracking branches under their weight. They were inching quickly toward his house, unknowingly creeping ever so close to their eventual death.

A smile grew on his lips as he cocked the gun toward the movements in the woods. He could practically see those horrible green eyes glowing in the darkness. He imagined their little clawed toes digging into the wet earth as they took another step in his direction. He heard their laughter as they cut their way through the night.

“Come on. Show your faces,” he said through gritted teeth as he caressed his shotgun with the tips of his fingers. “Show your ugly little faces.”

“Mark, I don’t think we should be out here.”

“Stop being such a baby. We’ll just be a minute is all.”

He stepped out of the bushes in which they were hiding to find himself standing on the wet overgrown grass. The dew felt cold on his ankles. His socks were quickly dampened as the water seeped through the leather of his sandals. Billy’s tiny hand grabbed his as they walked toward the decrepit barn that stood about a hundred feet to the right side of the house.

They had made it halfway there when a sudden blast echoed through the night. Something whirred past his ear to land on the ground a few feet in front of him, causing a small explosion of earth and grass to somersault high in the air.

“Jesus! Someone’s shooting at us!”

Mark pulled hard on his brother’s arm, all but dragging him toward the barn.