Two Dead Kids

"Do you have any flour?"

"Why would I carry flour in my car?"

"So we can see their handprints."

Laney rolled her eyes and looked out the side window. There wasn't much to look at; It was a cloudy fall night. The only hint of light in the near vicinity were the headlights of Mike's car shining on the long, thick field grass. Laney imagined that if she turned off the headlights, the darkness would become a thick blanket wrapped around her head. A person would be able to walk right next to the car and she wouldn't be able to see them at all. The minute that thought crossed Laney's mind, she casually locked her door. She sighed and turned towards Mike. "Why are we doing this again?"

"What else is there to do? Bowling?"

"There's more to do than bowl."

"Well, we could..."

"Laney, it's past midnight. There are no movies playing. There are no coffee shops open. We could go to Taco Bell, but you don't like Mexican."

"They always get my orders wrong. I hate sour cream."

"Let's not start that again."

Laney stared at Mike and zeroed in on the freckles spread like spilled cinnamon across his nose. In the faint orange-yellow light, the freckles seemed to blend together, making Mike look like a blurred photograph.

"Turn off the light," Mike urged. He began to drum on the grey dashboard with his palms. The rhythm was uneven and frantic, urging Laney to try something new.

She flicked off the lights and turned towards the outline of Mike.


"So, what are we looking for?" she whispered. Laney wasn't sure why she was whispering, but it felt right. It felt as if there was a weight pressing down on Laney's body; She was sure that if she poked her head out the car window, there would be thick grey clouds resting on the roof of her blue Sedan.

"We're looking for the ghosts of dead kids. Yesterday in school, Mr. Lawrence was telling us that back in the '60s, the local sheriff's office found the bodies of two dead kids. There was no outward clue to what killed them when the officer on duty found them. In fact, he first thought they were just two dumb kids trying to sleep out in a field. I guess after they did autopsies on them, they found out the kids were poisoned. Lawrence said that their Mom did it." Mike paused. Laney wasn't sure if the pause was for dramatic effect or if he was genuinely considering what would drive a mother to poison her kids.

"How old were they?"

"I think they were middle schoolers. So, about 12."

Even though Laney knew that it had been said many times before, the words burst out of her mouth: "That's so horrible." Laney wished that she had something more profound to say about the situation, other than murder and death were horrible things. She knew that a five year old could come up with those rationalizations, but maybe there were some truths which didn't need dressing up. Even if that was the case, Laney still felt as if her thoughts were lying flat and dull on the surface of a frozen lake.


Mike's hand covered hers and encircled it. She leaned towards him in the darkness, and was startled by how warm and soft his mouth was. Mike's lips were thin and slightly pink, but contrasted with the cold car, they felt like the center of the sun. He let go of Laney's hands and pulled her slightly closer. She moved towards his embrace, until the car rocked with an odd thunk. They broke apart, and Laney stared at Mike. She refused to look behind her, worried that there would be a luminous white face staring at her. Its eyes a sickly, bright lizard green. And its long, twisted fingers clawing at the window in a desperate attempt to grab hold of her hair.

"What the fuck was that?" Mike whispered. Laney wished that he hadn't continued whispering; the low sound of his voice made her feel much more nervous than if he had begun to yell. Laney opened her mouth to reply, but she felt as if her mouth was filled with a thick brick of socks and peanut butter.

"Do you hear that? It sounds like a something is walking towards the car," Mike continued, his voice succumbing to an uneven edge of panic. "Laney, let's get out of here."

Something hit the car again.

Laney didn't even think. She quickly turned the keys in the ignition and began to drive down the road. As her lights flickered on, she thought she saw a series of eyes reflected in the rear view window. They glittered green and red with the advent of the light. A thick cluster of eyes, frozen and staring, waiting to graze on the thick, green grass.


Read more Modern Pea Pod short fiction by Zach Hoskins