Marcus and Shane loaded the used baseball equipment from Play It Again Sports into the trunk of the dark blue, Ford Thunderbird. The car belonged to Marcus. His girlfriend leaned against the car, arms folded, waiting for them to load the trunk so Shane could climb in the back seat with Jose.
They haven’t played a game of softball since they were kids in middle school. College life had kept them busy and it was time to take a well deserved break.
Marcus and his group rolled up to the high school’s baseball diamond before Josh and his group did. Josh was to meet them at the diamond with the rest of the players that were pooled in his van. The field was already being used by teenagers and there wasn’t any room to form a new game.
“Do you know of any where else we could play?” Lisa asked Marcus.
“We could try my old middle school’s playground. It’s big enough. Let’s swing by to see if it’s empty,” answered Marcus. “Just have to call Josh and tell him to meet us there instead.”
Marcus drove as he cell phoned Josh, informing him of the slight predicament. Josh readily agreed to meet at the new location.
Owen junior high was sort of out of the way but it’d be nice to see the old neighborhood again. Marcus wanted to catch a glimpse of the spot where his childhood house once stood which was directly across the street from the playground. He hadn’t been in that part of the city in years.
To get to the old neighborhood, Marcus would have to drive underneath the aging overpass that was built next to the once inhabited train station. In its prime, back in the fifties, the station was busy with the hussle and bussle of travelers that took the Amtrak train from Detroit to other parts of the country.
The tracks were rumored to be cursed. Many accidents occurred on those tracks; as a result the station closed in the early seventies. One particularly tragic accident took place right atop the railway bridge, over a 70 deaths resulted from the nasty collision.
The Thunderbird entered the shadowy under pass of the viaduct where right above, all those years ago, the accident occurred. There were no lights underneath and the street was ridden with deep pot holes that city officials had long forgotten about. Marcus slowed down to avoid damage to his car’s axles.
“I don’t like the dark,” said Jose softly.
“We’ll be fine,” Lisa said, “We’ll be out from under here in a minute.”
Jose was the only one not attending U of M. He was large guy, “big boned” as they say. He was a kind hearted, simple fellow, a little slow mentally. Marcus, Lisa, and Shane were his best friends. They never made fun of him when he was a kid. Despite Jose’s academic disability, he could play a hell of a game of softball. He was strong and could knock a ball into next week.
The light of day shined at the end of the tunnel, though not as bright as before, almost drab. When the car emerged from underneath the bridge, the world was different; dull. The sky was dreary and grey. Buildings were dim and nearly colorless. Grass and the leaves on trees were lackluster, like the dye had faded from a vibrant garment that had been washed too many times.
“It’s gonna rain. I know it,” said Shane in response to the dreariness.
“No it’s not, there’s not a cloud in the sky,” Marcus replied.”
They all looked out of the car windows up at the sky. Marcus was right, not a chance of bad weather.
Marcus continued driving, turning down side-street after side-street, as if in a maze. Moments later they approached the old middle school. It looked the same to Marcus, except for its gloomy facade. Memories flooded back and Marcus felt like a little boy again.
He parked the car directly across the street from the empty playground, right in front of the spot where the house he used to live in once stood. All that was there now was a vacant lot surrounded by dismal houses on either side. The block looked like a lower jaw missing a tooth.
Marcus, Lisa, Jose and Shane each carried a piece of equipment across the street to the grassless field. There was no diamond or bases in the playground so they made due with what they could find. A couple of old red bricks would suffice as a home and first base. A faded, used baseball mitt made a perfect second and an old folded newspaper with a rock as paperweight would do for third.
The group warmed up as they waited for Josh and his crew to arrive. Shane and Jose played catch while Marcus practiced his swing as Lisa pitched.
“VVVRRR”, “VVVRRR”
Marcus’ cell phone vibrated in his front pocket, interrupting practice. It was Josh. Marcus answered still holding the bat in one hand.
“Hello.”
“Where are you Marc?”
“We’re at the old playground.”
Josh paused, “Owen Junior High’s playground?”
“Yeah, where are you guys?”
“We’re at the playground. I don’t see you.”
“Josh, we’re right in the middle of the field. We set up bases and are warming up.”
“In the middle of the field? Are you at the playground at the corner of 15th and Ash?” asked Josh.
Marcus looked up to his left at the street signs on the corner.
“Yep,” he replied.
“Well, we’re right here, we don’t see you,” said Josh, confused.
Marcus looked around he saw no one. Not a living soul was visible except the friends who were with him. The streets were empty: no pedestrians, no cars, not a bird flew, not a squirrel scurried.
Marcus thought that perhaps there was another 15th and Ash somewhere in the city. No. That was impossible. He scanned the area and saw something that wasn’t there before: his house.
Staring at the two-story home, Marcus hung up the phone without a word. His old house existed just as he remembered; a light green color with white trim and a wrap around porch to match. Marcus put the phone in his pocket and walked silently toward the chain link fence. The others noticed his change in demeanor.
“What’s wrong Marc?” Lisa said.
No answer.
Jose and Shane dropped the mitts and softball. They all saw what Marcus was looking at: a house that wasn’t there moments ago. They joined Marcus at the chain linked fence to get a better look. Everyone gazed silently at the house, wondering how it could appear from nowhere.
“That house wasn’t there before,” said Jose, breaking the silence.
“No… it wasn’t,” said Marcus.
“It had to be,” said Shane. “We just didn’t notice it.
“No, it wasn’t,” said Lisa, “I would have remembered a house with a wrap around porch like that.”
“It had to be there. Houses don’t build themselves,” retorted Shane.
“My house burned down fifteen years ago. I know because it was my fault. I was playing with matches in bed when I was ten. It’s not supposed to be there,” said Marcus, both hands gripping the fence.
The sound of a fidgeting doorknob from across the street got the groups attention. The door of the green house opened and out came a woman with long, dark brown hair wearing glasses. She held a broom and began to sweep the porch.
“Mom?” said Marcus, under his breath.
“That cannot be your mom,” said Lisa.
“It looks like your ma,” said Jose.
“It does look like your mom, Marc. Fifteen years younger and a twenty pounds lighter,” Shane said.
“We took a wrong turn somewhere. I think it’s time to go home,” Marcus said.
“This is got to be a joke,” said Shane.
“Joke or no joke, what we’re seeing isn’t right. Let just get out of here,” said Lisa.
Forgetting about the used sports equipment and ready to leave, they all looked to the left toward the exit of the playground. Standing there was a group of children. There were eight or nine of them outside of the fence blocking the exit.
They ranged from nine to twelve years old. They were unsightly children. Their clothes were dim shades of brown and grey. They had sour faces. All of them were disfigured. Some of them had no mouths. Bald patches of skin where hair had fallen out were visible on ugly deformed heads. With lifeless eyes they stared at the quartet.
Marcus and his friends scanned the whole playground. In packs, gruesome children blocked all four exits.
“How are we going to get to the car?” Lisa said.
“We’ve got baseball bats. We can get past those things,” responded Shane.
“But there just kids,” Lisa said.
“Not like any I’ve ever seen,” Marcus said, gripping the handle of his bat.
The doppelganger stopped sweeping the porch and went back into the house shutting the door behind her.
“I don’t like this, I wanna go home,” said Jose.
