The Black Monkey (Bloody Bakersfield Book 1)

By Christian H. Smith

The children of Bakersfield, Illinois have buried a stuffed monkey in a cornfield every Halloween for decades. The same night that ten-year-old Jess first witnesses the mysterious ritual, his older sister Paula is brutally murdered.

Paula is only the first victim of the “Snowman,” a serial killer stalking the children of Bakersfield. Jess believes the monkey ritual is the key to stopping the murders and uncovers the secrets of the century-old tradition. But the black magic of the monkey might be more evil than the killer he has called it up to stop.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Permuted
• Release date: Jun 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781618685896

Book preview

THE BLACK MONKEY

BY

CHRISTIAN SMITH

A PERMUTED PRESS BOOK

Published at Smashwords

ISBN (eBook): 978-1-61868-589-6

THE BLACK MONKEY

Bloody Bakersfield Book 1

© 2015 by Christian Smith

All Rights Reserved

Cover art by Martin Kintanar

This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author and publisher.

Permuted Press

109 International Drive, Suite 300

Franklin, TN 37067

http://permutedpress.com

With gratitude to Mr. Bill Myers - now you owe me a steak dinner.

Contents

Chapter 1: The Gray Monkey

Chapter 2: Morning

Chapter 3: Giving Thanks

Chapter 4: The Night Before

Chapter 5: Silent Night

Chapter 6: Ice

Chapter 7: The Death Bitch

Chapter 8: Scarecrow

Chapter 9: The Fourth

Chapter 10: Crappy Birthday

Chapter 11: Socks

Chapter 12: October

Chapter 13: The Black Monkey

Chapter 14: What the Monkey Saw

Chapter 15: Circles

About the Author

Chapter 1

The Gray Monkey

The first time I saw them bury the monkey, I didn’t know what it meant.

At the start of that last Halloween, I didn’t even know I was going to get to see the monkey funeral. I was just happy to be trick-or-treating with Jess Tate and Missy Delaney and Toby Peters, like we’d done together for years. I didn’t expect anything more from the night than gorging myself on free candy and hanging out with my best friends in the world. When you’re ten, Halloween is as good as life gets.

I was an alien, with a cool mask that glowed in the dark and looked really real. The eyes were big and round, lined with black mesh so they looked totally black from the outside. I could still see, but everything was dark. I had wanted to wear black clothes too, but Mom said it wasn’t safe to walk around at night all in black. She made me wear a vest trimmed with silver reflective tape, which I doubted a real alien would wear. Just like every other Halloween, Mom had wanted me to wear a jacket over my costume. Like every other Halloween I said, What’s the point of having a costume if you have to wear a jacket over it? This year, for the first time, Mom just laughed and said, Whatever. Now I wished I had worn a jacket since it was a typical bone-cold Illinois October night.

We’d just hit up the Lamberts. They were an old couple without any kids, which is probably why they gave out hard candy. I got a handful of those little round butterscotch things. They’re all right, but everybody knows Halloween’s really all about the chocolate. Past the Lambert place stood half a block of houses with the porch lights off, which meant nobody inside was giving out candy. Further down, on the corner of Woodland and White Oak, a bunch of the houses had skeletons and jack o’lanterns and fake graveyards and stuff on the lawn. The Harvey place even had a strobe light and a fog machine, with a CD playing spooky music and the sounds of people screaming. Houses that go all out with decorating usually don’t skimp on the candy either. We were making our way down there when Toby brought up the monkey.

Tom said he’s going to the monkey party this year, he said, like it was a really big deal. His brother Tom was on the football team with Jess’s brother Boone, who had organized the monkey thing for the last few years.

So what? Missy said. Jennifer’s there too. If they let her go, it can’t be that cool. Missy was always talking crap about her sister, plus she loved deflating Toby.

"She may be attending the ceremony, Toby said, emphasizing the big words, but Tom is participating in the ritual."

Oh, shut up Hermione, Missy said.

That stopped Toby cold. He walked faster, making little sputtering noises under his breath. I couldn’t see for sure in the dark, but I would have bet money his face was red. His costume was supposed to be Harry Potter, but his had made it for him because she didn’t want to shell out the money to buy one at the store. Toby’s mom wasn’t exactly the best costume-maker in the world. His wizard robes had turned out kind of girly. Some older kids we’d run into earlier teased him about it and Missy had been calling him Hermione ever since. It was mean, but I had to admit it was kind of funny, especially since it got Toby so worked up.

Why do they bury a monkey doll on Halloween? I asked, both to change the subject from Toby’s costume, and also because I was wondering that anyway. It seemed like a strange thing to do.

It’s a tradition, Missy said. She didn’t really have on a costume, just a bright red wig, and looked slightly more mature than the rest of us. They’ve been doing it so long nobody knows how it got started.

"It’s a ritual, Toby insisted. It casts a good luck spell that lasts all year long."

They teach you that at Hogwarts, Hermione? Missy said.

Toby growled and flicked his wand at Missy, which only made her laugh.

Oh no, she cried, throwing her hands up. Not the killing curse!

Seriously, I turned to Jess. Why do they do it? If any of us would have known, it was him. His brother was organizing the party and besides, Jess was smart.

Jess shrugged. I don’t know, he said, but he flashed me a smile. Toby always acted like he knew everything even when he didn’t, but Jess was more the type to know way more than he let on. The smile looked especially sinister with his vampire fangs. They were the good kind that looked almost like real teeth, not the cheap plastic ones.

Jess’s Dracula costume was a homemade job too, but his mom was way better at that stuff than Toby’s mom. The vampire suit had a black cape lined with red, and it looked really sharp. He was even wearing make-up. I wouldn’t have thought would make a difference with his dark skin, but he actually looked pretty scary.

I unwrapped a piece of butterscotch candy and popped it into my mouth, giving Jess a sideways look. He smirked back at me and put a quick finger to his lips. Missy and Toby were still going at it, so they didn’t see him do it.

"I wish I did know how to do avada kedavra," Toby hissed.

Oooh, Missy said. Hermione’s getting gangsta with the unforgivable curses.

That’s it, Toby said. I’m going home.

Toby stomped away. Missy smiled at us, clearly loving this, but she did go after him. When she was out of earshot, Jess turned to me and said, Do you want to see it?

See what?

The monkey.

What? Really?

Boone said I could go this year. I asked him and he said you could go too.

What about Toby and Missy?

They’re not ready for it.

I had to smile. They weren’t ready, but I was.

After the trick-or-treating, Jess said. We’ll head out there.

What about Bobby Trott’s party? Bobby Trott was a kid in our class with five or six brothers and sisters, spread out in almost every grade in school so that put together they knew most of the kids in town. Every year, his parents threw a huge party and almost everyone went. The Trotts were rich, so the party was always swanky. Last year they had catered food, bobbing for apples and the Charlie Brown Great Pumpkin show projected onto a giant screen in their back yard.

This’ll be better, Jess said. Trust me.

But I already told my mom and dad I was going to the party.

If you don’t want to go, it’s okay, Jess said. I wish you would, though. I don’t want to go by myself.

Missy and Toby came back. Jess gave me a look so I wouldn’t say anything.

Guys, we can’t call Toby ‘Hermione’ anymore, Missy said. Okay?

We collected our candy from the decked-out houses, including a giant-sized Butterfinger from the Harveys, and I thought about what Jess had said. The Trott party would be fun and safe, with lots of grown-ups. The monkey was mysterious and unsupervised and more than a little scary, but it was a big deal for somebody as young as me to see it. Usually only teen-agers could go, and even then they had to be invited. Most kids in town didn’t even know about the monkey.

After we worked our way past that good stretch of houses, Missy looked at her cell phone and said, It’s almost eight. Let’s go over to Bobby’s house.

Jess faked a big yawn. I’m kind of tired. I think I’m just going to go home. He looked at me. You still spending the night at my house?

In that second, I made up my mind. Yeah, I said. My yawn looked even faker than Jess’s did. I’m kind of tired, too.

Really? Missy said. You guys suck.

Sorry, Jess said.

It went back and forth for a few minutes, Missy trying to persuade us and Jess refusing, but she finally gave in.

Come on, Toby, she said. "The muggles have to go to bed early."

Toby and Missy headed off towards the Trott house. Jess and I started in the direction of his place until they were out of sight. Then he pulled my sleeve and said Come on.

We cut across somebody’s backyard and walked out onto the railroad tracks. The tracks ran behind our neighborhood and led north out of town. Lots of cornfields were up that way, and also a wooded creek where we sometimes looked for snakes in the summertime. We walked more than a mile along the dark tracks, not saying much. I don’t know about Jess, but I got more and more anxious with every step we took. Scared of the dark and worrying about what it would be like when we got there. Finally, we reached the cornfield where they were going to bury the monkey. We walked across freshly harvested rows of dead brown stalks. I kept tripping over the cold hard mounds jutting from the dark earth.

About twenty people stood around a bonfire in a far corner of the field, laughing and drinking with loud music playing. They were all older kids. Jess and I braced ourselves as we walked over. We knew we were going to get ragged on.

Hey, lookit that, one of the guys said. They were all just shadows by the fire, so I couldn’t tell who it was. It’s Count Chocula!

The boy walked over towards us, taking a big swig from a bottle, and I saw it was Toby’s brother Tom. He had Toby’s curly hair, dark brown instead of blond, but that was where the family resemblance ended. Both the brothers were big, but while Toby was what they call husky, Tom was football-player solid. His droopy eyelids gave him a dumb, lumbering look, but I knew from experience he wasn’t stupid. Just mean. Sometimes when I was over at Toby’s house and Tom was there with some of his buddies, they would mess with us. Once they dunked our heads in mud puddles just to hear us scream.

Jess smiled at him, but I tensed up even more. I couldn’t tell if Tom was just having fun with his Count Chocula talk or if he was going to get ugly for real. I put my alien mask back on because I felt safer behind it.

Jess’s brother Boone came over. How zit goin’, Count Chocula? He sounded drunk. Who’s that there with you? Oh, hey, it’s Fagatron, from the planet Pussy Fart.

A couple more of Boone’s laughing football buddies came over to pin us down in the huge flickering shadows they cast in the firelight. They smelled of wood smoke and liquor. Boone was even smoking a cigarette, and so was this other guy who had on a weird mask I think was supposed to be a dog or a wolf. He was the only one of them wearing any kind of a costume. A dog smoking a cigarette was a strange sight to see.

Boone stepped right in front of me, very big and very black. Cool mask, he said. Lemme see it.

Jess nodded at me grimly, so I gave my mask to Boone. He held it up for the others to see and I could tell by their laughter I’d never get it back. I think maybe teasing the younger kids was part of the whole monkey thing.

You going to give us a drink of that? Jess pointed to the bottle Tom had passed to Boone.

You’re underage, son.

So are you.

Boone laughed again. His buddies echoed the sound and they all went back over by the fire. We tried to follow, but Boone said, This ain’t the baby table. The baby table’s over there. He gave Jess a little kick to let us know that we weren’t at all welcome. We had to stand off to the side, away from the fire. This sucked because the night was getting even colder. Again, I wished I’d listened to my mom and worn a jacket over my costume. Jess and I huddled as close as we dared with older boys around who would call us fags.

I don’t know how long we stood there watching them from the cold, but it felt like a long time. Most of the older kids were boyfriend and girlfriend couples. Boone was with Dana Flowers and Jess’s sister Paula was with another football player named Warren Larson. Tom’s date was a girl who I think was named Sherilyn and Missy’s sister Jennifer was with some guy I didn’t know. They all sat close on blankets, kissing and drinking and smoking. For a while, they passed this one cigarette around. I think it might have been marijuana.

A train roared by and it was like that was the signal everyone had been waiting for. The laughing and horsing around stopped. Tom turned off the music and everybody got serious all at once, as if at that exact moment everyone remembered why we were really out here. Boone led everyone over to a hole already dug a little way off from the fire, just deep enough so a tractor wouldn’t plow up the monkey in the spring. We stood in a circle around the grave.

Boone said, Who’s got the monkey?

A high school girl named Lori Wallace stepped up. She was wearing pink and white bunny ears. I think her costume was pink and white too, like a sexy Playboy dress, but she wore a long heavy jacket so I couldn’t tell for sure. Lori handed Boone one of those stuffed monkeys made from gray socks, with red lips and black button eyes.

Boone dropped the monkey into the hole. In the dark, I could just make out its gray limbs against the black earth. The monkey’s button eyes gleamed faintly, reflecting the fire and the little bit of moonlight.

All right, pony up, Boone said.

I was just going to throw in some Jolly Ranchers and Mary Janes, cheap stuff I probably wouldn’t eat until after Thanksgiving, if ever. Why bury good candy in the ground? Somehow, it seemed wrong to cheat the monkey, so I gave up my favorites. A little box of Junior Mints, a Blow Pop and, even though it hurt, the giant size Butterfinger I’d scored at the Harvey house. Everybody else tossed good stuff into the grave, too.

Boone put on my alien mask, which still glowed a faint, ghostly green. He spoke slowly, in a loud, clear voice, Monkey treats for monkey eats. In a monkey’s grave, the monkey sleeps. For a monkey year, the monkey keeps.

The poem was kind of silly, especially as recited by a glowing rubber alien, but nobody laughed. In fact, I think everybody got a chill when Boone said it. I know I did. It was like we were close to something awful, like if nobody said those exact words maybe the monkey wouldn’t sleep.

The older boys and their shovels filled the grave and it was done. Jess and I went home, but the rest stayed behind to do the things teenagers do on blankets around fires, with cigarettes and liquor and boys and girls. That seemed to be part of the whole monkey thing, too.

Jess’s sister Paula and her boyfriend Warren huddled close together, sharing his red-and-white football jacket. Paula looked drunk and sleepy with the firelight reflected in her drooping brown eyes. I remember that clearly, because it was the last time I ever saw her.

* * *

Why do you think they bury a sock monkey every Halloween? Jess asked as we walked back along the tracks. We were going over to his house to spend the night.

I don’t know, I said. I didn’t want to talk about it. Watching them bury the monkey had left me feeling uneasy, especially now that clouds covered the moon. The night was so dark we could barely see the tracks under our feet. The neighborhood lights were a million miles away.

There has to be a reason for it, Jess went on. I walked faster, hoping he would take the hint that now was not the time to discuss this. But no. Don’t you think it’s really weird? They don’t do it in other towns. I’ve never even read about anything quite like it. I asked Boone and he didn’t even know how it got started or what it’s really for.

I tried to concentrate on walking, on not tripping over the wooden ties, but Jess wouldn’t shut up about the stupid monkey.

I think it’s been going on for a long time. I wonder how many monkeys are buried out there in that field.

The thought of dozens of old sock monkeys molding away in graves with ancient Halloween candy was just too much. Shut up, okay?

Why, are you scared?

Yes!

With anybody else, I would have endured the fear rather than owning up to it, but I knew Jess wouldn’t give me a hard time. He just said, Huh, like the fact I was on the verge of wetting myself was very interesting. Okay.

We walked on. The moon came out from behind the clouds, but the little bit of light just made things worse. The brush in the ditches on both sides of the tracks crawled with weird blue shadows. I forced myself to think only of Jess’s warm house, of sane electric light. Each step took us a little closer.

Jess grabbed my sleeve. Wait, he whispered. I stopped, not wanting to.