Fall
The ice cream truck’s days were numbered.
All summer long, Alice had gritted her teeth
and turned up her iPod so she could try to ignore the siren song of “Pop! Goes
the Weasel.”
She’d drawn the shades and kept her eyes
focused on the monitor to erase dancing visions of the Choco Taco, the
chocolate chip cookie sandwich, the Nestlé Crunch bar, the Drumstick.
She’d nibbled on dry-roasted peanuts and dried
fruit, reminding herself of the many advantages of working at home.
But now winter was peering at her over the
horizon, its icy claws and cold breath only weeks away, while autumn lay faint
upon the landscape, wrapping colored leaves around it to stay warm.
Maybe because she saw it as her last chance,
Alice let her gaze stray from the spreadsheet and wander as if by chance to the
front door. She peeked at the little tin of peanuts on the corner of the desk,
imagining them covered in melted chocolate, and then at her billfold,
remembering the lonely five-dollar bill inside.
She could hear the truck inching along the
street, its peppy song faltering at her hesitation.
“Oh!” She dug through the billfold to claim her
prize and ran out onto the lawn. The white truck was already two houses down so
she cried out, waving the bill over her head.
The truck’s red brake lights glared at her.
Alice hustled along the side of the truck,
panting, and stopped to consider her choices. As she did, two small figures
darted from the truck and ran in irregular spirals on the lawn behind her,
chittering and jabbering.
Happy customers? The vendor’s children, glad to
be temporarily free?
Alice focused on the list of enticements.
A voice spoke from behind her: “That’s the
wrong truck.”
The two spiraling figures halted. Alice thought
she saw one turn its head for an instant, revealing what looked like a gaping skull,
but it quickly averted its face. She realized it must be wearing some type of
mask, although it was still early for Halloween.
Alice pivoted to see a small, blond-haired girl
on the lawn behind her, standing with arms crossed and lower lip jutting out. The
girl wore a blue dress with the faces of Anna and Elsa on the front and looked
to be about six. When Alice checked, she could see the girl’s mother sitting on
the porch steps, absorbed in her phone. A teddy bear lay forgotten on a blanket
near the porch as the girl approached Alice.
Alice knelt down so she was almost at eye
level. “Would you like to go ahead of me, sweetie?”
“No, it’s the wrong truck,” the girl insisted.
“Run away!”
Alice blinked away the enchanting images of ice
cream treats to see both childlike figures turn grinning skull-faces toward her
and extend clawed hands in her direction. When she looked over her shoulder,
she saw a plume of black smoke rising over the top of the truck like a wave.
Dark shadows moved inside. The girl hadn’t been fooled, and now Alice wasn’t
either.
Alice clutched at the bill in her hand and
closed her eyes against the horrific visions. She wanted to live! She wanted a
better job, friends, someone who cared what happened to her. Ice cream wasn’t
the answer.
All Alice had to do was scoop up the little
girl and run …
Then Alice heard the girl scream and opened her
eyes.
Not two feet away, the girl’s mother was
leaning forward, extending a hand with two crumpled bills in it toward the
gaping maw on the side of the truck.
“No, Mommy!” the girl cried. “Stop!”
“Mommy will be with you in a minute,” the woman
said in a faraway voice.
Something dark inside the truck was reaching
forward.
It was as plain as the spreadsheet in Alice’s
empty house: the little girl had left the safety of her blanket to warn Alice
and now she was about to lose her mother because of it.
Alice took one last look at the little girl’s
tear-streaked face before jumping up to knock the woman aside.
“No,” Alice said in her loudest voice as she
held out her hand, “I was here first.”
She felt something cold and scaly close on her
wrist. The five-dollar bill slid from her grasp, to be replaced with something
even colder and squishy. Alice didn’t look at it as she took a large bite.
It was the most delicious treat she’d ever
tasted. Chocolate and vanilla, with a hint of peanuts, all swirled together
into near perfection. Alice smiled.
The wind sucked in its breath. The purple sky
spat lightning and coughed thunder. Smoke enveloped the truck, Alice, the
shrieking goblins. With an orange flash and a popping sound, all of them
vanished.
Mother and daughter were left clutching at each
other, kneeling on the lawn with their heads pressed together. After a few moments,
they looked up.
“She was a nice lady,” the girl said.
The mother shook her head. “Who? I don’t
remember.”
“That’s okay, Mommy.” The little girl smiled at
the vacant spot near the curb, where the last wisps of smoke were dissipating.
“I do.”
©Diane McCallum 2016
