We Will Let You Know Saturday at the Latest
When I got home that night, I noticed the smiling jack-o-lantern in my front yard was crushed. I wondered, is this the signal? I looked up and down the street. No one out of the ordinary for Halloween night. I walked into the backyard and pulled my TracFone from my inside coat pocket.
“I accept, and I pledge,” I told whoever picked up. “Do we do the whole thing now? The flyer was unclear, I cou — ” but the voice cut me off with instructions.
While my wife caught up on Sons of Anarchy, I drove to the parking lot of the local mall, my beautiful smashed pumpkin in two Barnes & Noble bags on the passenger seat, so it wouldn’t seep through.
When I arrived they were waiting in a four-fifths circle. They wore identical frowning pumpkin masks. The shortest one stepped forward. I handed him my dead pumpkin bag. In return he handed me my own mask. It felt foamy on my fingertips. I pulled the mask over my head. It was soft and cool on my skin.
Before I could ask if the masks were custom made, the one in the green fleece did a finger circle in the air, and they all ran off. I caught up and we ran together into the suburban night.