Cabin Fever

(Content Warning: Gore, adult dialogue, grisly imagery)

It had been the fourth time they’ve had to quarantine since 2020. Once in January of that year, then in July, missing out on Independence Day celebrations with friends and family, March of 2021, and again in October. It was Halloween, and Jackie Barnes was determined to at least have their porch light on.

Halloween is Jackie’s favorite holiday. He had already spent several hundred dollars on candy, an elaborate murder scene sticker decoration on the living room window with the words HELP ME in the center, jack-o-lanterns by the front door, and costumes for himself, his wife and their son. He was dressing up as John Wayne Gacy in his infamous Pogo the Clown get-up (an admittedly twisted idea for a Halloween costume, but the holiday is meant for scaring, right?) his wife Sharon was going to be Twisty the Clown from American Horror Story, and their son Colt was dressing up as Ghost Rider.

Because they were quarantining due to the Coronavirus outbreak at their son’s school, they never dressed in their costumes, but Jackie implored his wife to still paint their faces. She hesitated, but did her own first, with sullen eyes and a bloody mouth; Colt’s was just a basic skull with deep eye sockets, and Jackie’s was an easy white face, with the blue eyes and red mouth trademarked by Pogo.

***

The family was ready by four o clock in the afternoon, but Sharon was reluctant to hand out candy when they were supposed to be isolating themselves.

“I don’t think its wise for us to give out candy” Sharon doubted. “We’re supposed to be quarantining for two weeks.”

Jackie was rubbing at his temples, leaning his elbows on the kitchen counter. “Sharon, I need this” he muttered. “What is life without a little fun? We’ve quarantined four fucking times. We can wear masks when we answer the door.” He hoped the last bit would relieve her.

Sharon, who’s costume mostly consisted of the mask Twisty wore in the popular horror show, looked off as if fighting a winless battle. “I suppose” she agreed with a sigh. “But you don’t need to fuckin’ cuss at me, Jack.” She walked away, seizing a mixing bowl of Twix, the shitty bubblegum that taste like Pepto-Bismol for around five minutes, some Babe Ruth’s and Twizzlers, and left the kitchen with an attitude that only made Jackie more indignant.  

Jackie walked into their bedroom and got the idea it’d be funny to answer the door with his handgun.

“Trick or treat!” He imagined.

He’d answer the door, “Smells like children” in an eerie Marilyn Manson voice.

With the .45 ACP in his hand, he thought it irresponsible to use an actual handgun as a prop. Not only that, but Gacy would garrote his victims with wire or cord instead of using a gun. Jackie wanted to stay true to the costume. He put the gun back into his bedside drawer and closed it.

***

At around five o clock, they ate their dinner in front of the tv and watched Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban for the fifth time that week. Jackie was jaded by it, despite being a JK Rowling fan. As Remus Lupin was telling the students “Riddikulus!”, Jackie looked over at his wife and saw she was on her phone, lost in a Candy Crush world and seeming as uninterested as he was.

“I’m watching that”, she said when Jackie reached for the DVD remote.

He looked at her as though she said the silliest thing imaginable. “Looks like you’re playing on your phone” he argued, forcing a smile.

“I’m watching with my ears” she rebuked with an undertow of contempt. 

As the boggart rose from the chest in Lupin’s classroom (appearing cut in half by a vertical crack in the television screen), Jackie sat up from the couch in a breath of frustration and left the room, avoiding any more conflict with his lovely wife.

“Smells like children” he thought again.

***

When the small hand hung down at six and the big hand passed twelve on the antique clock suspended above the kitchen threshold, Jackie prepared the mixing bowls of candy on a table in the foyer. Looking out the peep hole and into the empty blacktop of Albert Avenue, he grew despondent. Just as he started to turn around and leave, he saw a group of kids and their parents walking up to their home.

“Here come some kids” Jackie squawked. “Get ready!”

Colt came running to the front door with his Ghost Rider skeletal face on behind a blue surgical mask, followed by Sharon looking freakish in her Twisty face paint; her mask depicting a bloody and salivary grin.  “You need a mask” she said, looking at Jackie’s bright red Pogo lips. 

Jackie ignored her, pressing his ear to the door.

There was some knocking, then in unison, several kids shouted, “trick or treat!”.

When Jackie swung the door open and saw the group of kids with their Covid repellant masks on, (a blonde girl was a princess, one shaggy haired boy was a lousy pirate with a makeshift eye patch, a black boy was Spider-Man, and another boy was wearing a Jason mask), he recalled a Halloween he celebrated in his own childhood. It was a house on Ledbetter Street, in his hometown of Wolf Lake, North Carolina. He and his sisters knocked on the door, which creaked open, and before they could finish “trick or treat” they saw their neighbors’ feet as he dangled from a noose in the foyer. Jackie, believing it was a decoration, walked in and touched the leg, which swung lifelessly. Mr. Thorpe’s limp body twirled and revealed a horrific scene of bulging eyeballs and blood.

“Jackie?” Sharon’s voice broke his flash back. “The kids.”

He shook his head to regain his thoughts. “You guys scared me so much” he exclaimed with a smile. “Two for Spider-Man”, he gave out two pieces of candy each, “Two for the princess, two for—”

“I’m not a princess, I’m Queen Stormborn from Game of Thrones!” Her voice was young and squeaky.

“And just as beautiful, my queen” Jackie replied. “Two for…Jack Sparrow?” The makeshift eye patch bobbed up and down, “and two for Jason Vorhees.”

“Who are you supposed to be?” The adult male asked, presumably the father of the four kids. “Pennywise?”

Jackie shook his head. “Pogo the Clown” he replied with a stroke of amusement.

The father and his wife, could have been his sister, exchanged guarded glances. “Alright kids. Next house. Say thanks.”

“Thank you, sir,” Queen Stormborn said.

“Thanks” muttered Spider-Man.

Jack Sparrow leaned forward, “Dead men tell no tales.”

Jason Vorhees leaned in as Jack did and raised his machete to say thanks. Message received.

***

A long and lonely hour passed. Sharon and Colt are back in the living room watching more movies they’ve already watched five or six times that week. Unwilling to allow himself to sink in the monotony, he goes into the kitchen and tops off the mixing bowls. Only eight pieces had been given out, but he wanted to make sure they had enough candy for the next group, if that group ever came. He glances from around the corner of the kitchen doorway and sees Sharon looking at her phone smiling.

He thinks, that’s not Candy Crush. He watches her suspiciously as she types texts to someone. Her smile reminds him of when they first met fifteen years before. She was smiling the same way she did when he would say something charming or stupid.  

When Jackie realizes he had been watching for too long he gets the idea to bake some Halloween cookies. They were small sugar cookies with pumpkin and bat designs in the batter. He preheats the oven appropriately and sticks the baking sheet on the center rack, then sets the timer for twelve minutes.

“Whatcha making?” Sharon asked from around the corner. Her brown curls swept her shoulders.

Jackie looked over to her and conjured an image of Twisty vs. Pogo. Clown versus clown. Twisty had the advantage of being more frightening as far as appearance goes but Pogo had the advantage of being real. He pulled out a long steak knife from the drying board on the counter. “Cookies” he growls.

“Stop, that’s weird” Sharon said, walking away.

“Yeah, yeah, go back to your phone” Jackie instigated with a motioning hand.

Sharon turned back around. The Matrix was suddenly turned up to full volume in the living room. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just meant go on back to whoever is making you smile.”

She seemed displeased with the comment. “My job?”

“No one smiles like that about their job.”

Neo was in the background fighting off Agent Smith. The smell of cookies was rising from the oven. The heat was boiling in Jackie’s stomach.

Sharon sneered. “Oh, I’m sorry I love my job and you hate yours,” she spoke with a volume that could be heard over Tank telling Neo which phonebooth to go to, but Jackie could also hear a dash of scornful spice.  

“You don’t have to sound so bitchy” Jackie says. He put the steak knife on the counter and walked to the oven, checking the timer at five minutes. Smells like children.  

Sharon edged closer to him. “You know w-what” she sputters, “fuck you”. She storms out of the kitchen, goes into their bedroom, and slams the door, echoing a loud bang throughout the house. Jackie couldn’t understand why she had become suddenly so angry.

A guilty conscience? She is cheating on me and I just called her out on it. She feels vulnerable and revealed.

He leaves the kitchen and cookies unattended, following Sharon into their bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him harder and much louder than her, as if to prove a point.

Jackie confronts her. “You’re mad because I’m right. There’s someone else.”

Sharon was rubbing her temples, smearing some of the white paint and getting it on her fingers. She was pacing through the room, from her closet to the bed to the dresser and back to the closet. “You always do this shit” she finally says.  

Jackie takes a step backwards as though he was wounded and raised his hands in defiance. “What shit?” he asks.

“This!” Sharon shouts. “You say stuff that makes me angry. You really think I’m cheating on you?”

“Well, if you’re not fucking me then you have to be fucking someone else”.

Sharon glared at him and managed a weak chuckle. The bloody eye sockets of her Twisty makeup seemed to be fuming red. The smell of cookies reached its hand underneath the gap of the door and took hold of Jackie’s nostrils. Neo was saying something about The Oracle and Trinity in the living room, and the front door was being knocked on followed by trick-or-treaters chanting the tune.

Jackie’s red lips and blue eyebrows rose. “Smells like children” he says.

Sharon gave him a disgusted look as he walked out the bedroom, slamming the door hard behind him, knocking a hanging mirror off their bedroom wall. “Put on a fucking mask, Jackie” Sharon calls out after him.

***

Rushing to his post at the front door, Jackie told Colt to turn down the volume of the television before grabbing a bowl of candy. Colt abided and followed his dad to the front door, showing a skull of excitement. Sharon stayed in the bedroom. Probably talking to her squeeze. ‘We’re arguing again’.

Opening the door and peering out at another group of kids, smaller this time and less impressive costumes, Jackie gave them each two pieces of candies and talked for a moment. They asked who he was, and he told them Pogo the Clown. One of the parents looked at him with revulsion. They left and Jackie stuck his head out to see how many kids were about. It was a slow night on Albert Avenue.

As he closes the door, he asks “Isn’t this great, Colt?”

Colt nods. “I wish I could go trick or treating though,” he bows his head. “But I know we have to ku-ran-teen.”

Pogo smiles and hands Ghost Rider a left sided Twix, his favorite. Ghost Rider doesn’t like the right side. Johnny Blaze smiles big and takes the candy.

 “Thanks, dad” he says and walks back into the living room.

Just then the timer began pinging in the kitchen and Pogo takes the golden cookies out of the oven, placing it on a cloth beside the steak knife. He picks the knife up, examines it, and—

POP! A loud sound rang through the house. The reverberation, being heard over The Matrix, shocked Jackie, almost causing him to drop the knife. At first, he assumed it was from Agent Smith shooting desperately at Neo again, but when he heard it a second time, he realized it was from the bedroom where Sharon was at.

Passing through the living room, Colt following close behind him, Jackie busted into the bedroom to find Sharon standing by her closet with his 45 in her shaky hand, pointed at him. Tears were streaming down her face.

Jackie put a hand on Colt’s shoulder. “Go back in the living room, Colt” he urges. With a look of horror in his eyes, Colt walked backwards out of the room, easing the door shut. “What are you doing, honey?”

Sharon grimaced. “I’m tired of this shit” she said and rose the gun to her head.

Jackie stepped forward with a raised hand. “Sharon, don’t. What’s wrong?”

The tears that flowed down her cheeks took some of the white paint with it, resting on her painted lips, which were quivering. “I am so sick of you, and this house, and the abuse” she began, becoming increasingly angrier, “you’re always accusing me of cheating always yelling always acting so demented.”

Abuse? Demented? Smells like children.

“Sharon, baby, put the gun down and talk to me” Jackie advised. He took another step forward, gripping the steak knife he had forgotten was still in his hand.

“Put down the knife” Sharon shouts.

Jackie ignores her, edging closer with a hand in the air, as if to protect himself. The gun was still cradled at Sharon’s temple.

“Put the fucking knife down, Jack” she shouts again.

In a flash, Jackie lunges at her with the knife, and slices the wrist holding the gun. Sharon screams and drops it to the floor. She sits on the bed and grabs her wrist with the unwounded hand. Blood trickled between her fingers.

“What the fuck?” She screams. “Why did you cut me?”

There are several rapid knocks on the front door and the sounds of children trick or treating thunder through the house. A smile spreads across Jackie’s bright, red lips. “Don’t go anywhere, you lying whore”. He thrusts the knife deep into Sharon’s legs, hitting bone and skidding deeper into her flesh. She lets out a sharp cry of pain.

***

Three kids in their costumes and covid-19 masks are standing at the door with their bags, already halfway full, and their parents on either side of them.

“Merry Hallow’s Eve” Jackie says.

“Your face is scary” one of the kids reply.

Jackie smiles.

“Help me!” Sharon screams from the bedroom. “Help me! He’s insane!”.

“Two for each of you” Jackie says, dropping two pieces of candy in each of their bags.

“Help!”

“That’s a freaky Halloween set up you have in there,” the father says. He’s standing on his tippy-toes, trying to peer over Jackie’s shoulder.

Jackie straightens up to block his view. “Yeah, we love the holiday here. Did you guys see the window on the side?”

“He’s crazy! Help me!”

“Sounds so real” the mother says. She had a worried look on her face.

“Amazon” Jackie shrugs. He’s smiling proudly as they walk away.

He closes the door and rushes back to the bedroom where Sharon is crawling across the floor to the gun. Colt is crying in the living room. Before Sharon can get to it, Jackie lifts the gun up, and points it to her temple. She looks up at him with big, blue moist eyes.

“Do—” was all she got out before a bullet entered Twisty’s skull. The backspatter from the bullet gushed blood onto Jackie’s face in large, circular ringlets.

The door was pounded again. “Trick or treat!”.

Jackie answered, exasperated. Blood trickled down from his blue, triangular eyes to his pointy red lips, leaving small trails across his clown white cheeks.

“Two for you…two for you…two for you….”

Smells like children.

***

Two weeks passed before authorities were called by Colt’s ELA teacher, due to his missing school. When they showed up and busted in the front door, all they found was remnants of a grisly Halloween night.

“Looks like the husband snapped” Det. Gabrielle Jones stated. “They were quarantining. Husband insisted they celebrate Halloween anyways…explains why no one noticed. Halloween was the cover for the murders. No one thought twice.”

She sipped on a cup of coffee as she stood in the bedroom, looking down at the deceased mother and son. Both their heads had been mutilated, seemingly repeatedly shot by a pistol of sorts.

“They found him here” Det. Terrance pointed between the two bodies. “Said he was rocking back and forth, muttering something like ‘smells like children’.”

“He tested positive for coronavirus too, right?”

Det. Terrance nodded and sucked the back of his teeth. “Must have developed some cabin fever or something.”

 “Makes people crazy. I know my husband thinks about killing me every time we quarantine”. Her and Det. Terrance chuckled grimly and left.