"He'll Come Knocking at Your Door" by Robert R. McCammon
Halloween Horrors (1986) edited by Alan Ryan
Readers unfamiliar with "He'll Come Knocking at Your Door" may prefer to read these notes only after reading the story.
Dan didn’t like the feeling in this room; there was too much tension and fear in here. Walter’s sobbing was louder. “Tom,” Roy said, “take Walter out for a breath of air, won’t you?” Tom muttered an assent and helped the crying man out of his chair. When they had left the rumpus room, Roy struck a kitchen match to relight his pipe and looked calmly at Dan Burgess.
“So tell me,” Dan urged as he sat down. He did smile this time, but the smile would not stick.
“It’s Halloween,” Roy explained, as if speaking to a retarded child. “We’re going over the Halloween list.”
Dan laughed involuntarily. “Is this a joke, gents? What kind of Halloween list?”
Roy’s thick white brows came together as he gathered his thoughts. Dan realized the other man was wearing the same dark red sweater he’d worn the day Dan had signed that lease and cut his finger. “Call it… a trick-or-treat list, Dan. You know, we all like you. You’re a good man. We can’t think of a better neighbor to have in Essex.” He glanced around as some of the others nodded. “Essex is a very special place to live, Dan. You must know that by now.”
“Sure. It’s great. Karen and I love it here.”
“We all do. Some of us have lived here for a long time. We appreciate the good life we have here. And in Essex, Dan, Halloween is a very special night of the year.”
Dan frowned. “I’m not following you.”
Roy produced a gold pocket watch, popped it open to look at the time, then closed it again. When he lifted his gaze, his eyes seemed darker and more powerful than Dan had ever seen them. They made him shiver to his soul. “Do you believe in the Devil?” Roy asked.
Again Dan laughed. “What are we doing, telling spooky stories?” He looked around the room. No one else was laughing.
* * *
Essex, Alabama.
You get there by whatever route life's fortunes or misfortunes happen to take.
Dan and Karen Burgess and their tyke Jaime got there because they had to move; Dan lost his previous job and circumstances were tough.
But in Essex, their fortunes did a one-eighty.
Dan believed in luck. In hindsight, it was even good luck that he’d lost that job at the mill, because if he hadn’t he never would have found Essex.... He and Karen were living some kind of fantastic dream. The promotion at the plant had come right out of the blue. People respected him. Karen and Jaime were happier than he’d ever seen them. Just last month, a woman Karen had met at the Baptist church gave them a rich harvest of garden vegetables that would last them through the autumn….
The only remotely bad thing that had happened since they’d moved to Essex, Dan recalled, was when he’d made a fool of himself in Roy Hathaway’s office. He’d sliced his finger on a sliver of plastic in the pen he was using to sign the lease and had bled all over the paper. It was a stupid thing to remember, he knew, but it had stuck in his mind because he’d hoped it wasn’t a bad omen. Now he knew nothing could be further from the truth....
"He'll Come Knocking at Your Door" takes place on the Burgess family's first Halloween night in Essex. The blind universal watchmaker, clearly fortified with a monkey's paw, has decreed that this is the night the fortunate Essex fathers must pay their yearly dues.
It's a charming conceit. No one in Essex worships the devil: this isn't "Young Goodman Brown." Like any HOA, there is simply a yearly assessment that needs to be paid. Otherwise, no one will see you and yours on November first. Or ever again.
* * *
Essex is a small rural town. The devil's favors take a homely form: job promotion at the cement plant; a lottery win that will pay off the note on the pickup; an overall atmosphere of easeful security.
Until Halloween. Each family contributes: nail clippings, a child's favorite toy or pet; a thumb; an ear; the first knuckle of a toddler's pinky finger. The cost is only steep if you're human.
As Washington Irving's Tom Walker once learned, payments cannot be deferred forever.
.... [Dan] rose unsteadily from his chair. It was not that he believed the Devil was coming to his house tonight for a bizarre trick-or-treat that frightened him so deeply; it was that he knew they believed, and he didn’t know how to deal with it.
“Dan,” Roy Hathaway said gently, “we’re all in this together. It’s not so bad. Really it isn’t. Usually all he wants are little things. Things that don’t matter very much.” Mitch made a soft, strangled groaning sound. Dan flinched, but Roy paid no attention. Dan had the sudden urge to leap at Roy and grab him by the front of that blood-red sweater and shake him until he split open. “Once in a while he… takes something of value,” Roy said, “but not very often. And he always gives us back so much more than he takes.”
Jay
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