When Brandon Vick heard the eerie music in the distance, he thought he was hearing things. Oxford Manning was dead, or so everyone assumed, since there’s no way he could’ve survived outside the burn unit he’d been admitted to. His whereabouts had been a huge mystery since the day he disappeared, causing a massive search and investigation. With no answers or leads, the case was left open in hopes something would turn up.
Brandon and his friends hadn’t meant to kill Oxford, or even hurt him, for that matter. Being slow, like he was, the boys just thought it’d be easy to take his money; and it was. They didn’t get a lot, but enough to enjoy the upcoming weekend.
When Mitch took out his lighter and set Oxford’s ice-cream-cone covered curtains on fire, the other four boys were shocked.
“What are you doing?” a couple of them yelled in unison. “Stop!” another one yelled, causing Mitch to stick his lighter in his pocket.
When his small flame quickly grew, engulfing the curtains and everything around them, they ran. They ran and never looked back.
But that was months ago. No proof or evidence was found. It would be forgotten. It was months ago.
As the unnerving tune continued to float on the cool, night breeze, Brandon stopped, but all he heard was silence, a few leaves rustling. When chills popped out on his skin, he started walking faster.
Laughter came from behind him, causing him to turn around and scan the empty street. “Who’s there?” he yelled. “Justin? Mitch? I’ll kick your ass if you’re trying to creep me out.”
“I’m not Justin or Mitch,” a spine-chilling voice said into his ear, “but I am trying to creep you out. Is it working?” Brandon spun around, a scream working its way up his throat, never making it to his lips. “Oh, good, it is working!”
***
“Wonder what’s going on over at the Vick’s house?” Mr. Brady asked. “There’s been cops in and out of there all morning.”
“Maybe Justin will know,” his wife said as she poured them both coffee. “He should be down in a minute.”
“Justin!” his dad called impatiently.
“Yeah?” he asked as he walked into the kitchen, grabbing a bowl out of the cabinet.
“Have you talked to Brandon today?” his dad asked.
“No, why?”
His dad took a sip of coffee before answering. “Well, the police have been over there at his house all morning. I thought you might know why.”
Justin almost dropped his bowl. “Police?” He stepped over to the window, which faced Brandon’s house, where two cop cars sat in their driveway. “No, I… I’ve not… not talked to him.” Leaving his bowl sitting on the counter, he walked out.
“Mitch, there are cops at Brandon’s house,” Justin said into his phone. “You don’t think—”
“Justin,” Mitch interrupted, “you need to calm down.”
“Calm down? What if they know?”
“How could they know?” Mitch asked, even though he was beginning to sound almost at nervous as Justin felt.
“Well, why else would they be over there?”
“Have you tried calling him?” Mitch asked.
“No, I was afraid to,” Justin admitted. “I mean, what if the cops took his phone?”
Mitch sighed. “What are they gonna do? Arrest you for calling him?”
The doorbell rang, causing Brandon to run over and peek out his window. “Shit, they’re here! What am I supposed to say?”
“Just calm down,” Mitch fussed.
“Justin!” his dad called once again.
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”
“Go see what they want,” Mitch said, “and call me back.” He chuckled. “They give you one call in jail, make sure it’s to me.”
He called him an asshole before he hung up and headed downstairs.
“Yeah, Dad?”
“Um… Officer James needs to speak with you a minute,” he replied, motioning the officer and Brandon into the living room.
“Okay.”
They both sat down, while his mom and dad stood near the entryway.
“How are you doing today?” the officer asked blankly.
“I’m okay, I guess.”
“Good, good.” The officer took a deep breath. “You’re seventeen, is that correct?” Justin nodded. “You’re almost an adult, so I’m going to treat you as such.”
Justin swallowed hard, having an idea what that meant—prison. “Okay.”
“Brandon… he went missing last night.”
He wasn’t expecting that. “Brandon Vick?”
The officer nodded. “His parents called and we searched the area through the night.”
“Did you find him?” Justin asked, his worry shifting from himself to his best friend.
“We did.”
The look on the officer’s face didn’t reflect his words. Finding a missing person should be a joyous thing, but his furrowed brows and frown screamed otherwise. His expression told Justin all he needed to know.
“Where did you find him?” Justin asked, his throat tight.
“In the woods a street over.”
Justin never cried; not since he was seven and his dog got ran over. It had been ten years and the stinging in his eyes felt foreign. The tightening in his throat became worse, making him unable to speak.
“I’m so sorry,” Officer James said. “This is never the kind of visit I want to make.”
“Do they know what happened,” Mrs. Brady asked, silent tears streaming down her face.
He turned his attention toward her, giving Justin time to process what he’d just been told. “All I can say is that it wasn’t an accident. We are warning all parents not to let their children roam the streets at night until we have a better idea of what’s going on.”
“Brandon was… was…?” Justin stammered, unable to even say it.
“Yes, foul play was involved. That’s the main reason why I’m here. I need to ask you some questions, since you’re one of his best friends, his other said.”
Justin nodded and tried to say, “Okay,” but it only came out as a snorting sound.
“When’s the last time you saw or talked to Brandon?”
Thinking about it, Justin realized the last time he’d talked to Brandon would be the last time. “I talked to him yesterday. He’d been at Josh’s house playing one of his new games. That was about six o’clock or so. He was supposed to come by here on his way home, but never did. I figured it had been late when he left and had gone on home. I tried messaging him, but he never opened it.” Now he knew why.
The officer went on to ask about school and if Justin knew of anyone who’d want to hurt Brandon, but he didn’t. Out of all of them, he was the nicest one and he knew it. He never really got into trouble and was the one person who didn’t want to go with that day. He had tried to talk them out of it, but Mitch ended up talking him into it.
And now their best one was gone.
“Everybody liked Brandon,” Justin admitted. “I don’t know of anyone who’d want to hurt him.”
“Okay,” the officer said as he stood up, “but if you think of anything you think might help us out, please let us know.” He reached out to shake his hand, holding it there until Justin took it. “My condolences.”
Justin nodded, unsure what to say, not bothering to get up. His legs felt so weak, he wasn’t sure he even could just yet.
He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, but didn’t care who it was. When it kept on vibrating, though, he pulled it out to see who it was.
“Hello?” Justin’s voice sounded as dead as Brandon was.
“Justin, have you heard?” his friend Josh asked. “Did you hear about Brandon?”
“Yeah, I heard.”
“Holy, shit! Who do you think could’ve done something like that? I mean… holes all in him? Why would somebody do that?”
“What?” Justin felt sick. “I didn’t hear how he died, just that he did. How do you know he had… holes in him?”
“Oh, man, I’m sorry. When you said you’d heard, I thought you’d heard everything.”
“No, just that someone killed him.” Justin got up and walked over to the window, watching the people come and go from Brandon’s house.
“Well, Lance, my uncle, was with the ones who found him. He works at the sheriff’s office and had been called out to help look for him. I didn’t even know he was missing.”
“I didn’t either,” he said, watching a woman who was parked in front of Brandon’s house cry in her car.
“Uncle Lance was talking to my dad when I heard. He didn’t know I was listening, so he told him how he’d found him.”
Justin didn’t want to hear, but he still felt like he had to know. “How did they find him?”
“Well, he said he’d been tied up and his mouth had been taped. Then he said… he said he had… had been mutilated.”
Bile rose in Justin’s throat. “What?”
“Yeah, he said it was the grossest thing he’d ever seen.”
“Mutilated?” Justin repeated.
“I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you. Sometimes not knowing is—”
Justin dropped his phone, not hearing any more of what Josh said as ran into the bathroom, glad he hadn’t eaten breakfast.
“Honey, are you alright?” his mom asked, knowing he wasn’t.
He didn’t answer, images of Brandon’s mutilated body flashing through his mind; mouth taped, hands and feet tied, flesh maimed. Why would someone do that, and to Brandon, of all people? Mitch, he could possibly see, but not Brandon.
Once he could make it back up to his room, he laid down, not coming out. His mom brought him lunch, but he didn’t eat it. His friends called and sent him several messages, but he didn’t answer. He just wanted to be left alone.
Later that night, he deleted most of his messages without listening to them, not wanting to hear it. He knew Brandon was dead.
There was one message he listened to, though, just in case he’d heard anything else about Brandon’s… Brandon’s killer from his uncle.
“Justin, answer your phone,” Josh said before it sounded like he dropped his phone. “Man, call me. Some weird shit is going on. Call me.” Five minutes later he left another one. “Dude, call me back!” Josh lowered his voice. “I keep hearing that freaky music—the music from the ice-cream truck.” He laughed nervously. “I know it sounds crazy, but I swear I just heard it.” He was quiet for a few seconds, his voice shaky when he spoke again. “Dude, I’m not playing. Call me back.” And that’s the last message he’d left.
Justin called him back, but he didn’t answer. “Yeah, you really needed to talk to me.” No sooner he laid his phone down, Josh called back. “Hey, what’s up?” Justin asked.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” a strange, deep voice said, “but your friend is a little tied up at the moment.” A creepy-as-hell laugh pierced his ear.
“Who is this?”
“Do you not remember me? Here, let me refresh your memory.” Muffled screams could be heard in the background. “Does that ring a bell? No?” More smothered screams.
“Josh!” Justin was frantic.
“Oh, is that his name?” the monster asked. "He doesn't look like a Josh; not anymore."
Eerie music drowned out Josh’s stifled pleas. Justin yelled again, but to no avail. He was in a full-blown panic when the phone went silent.
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