Fictober Prompt 28: "I don't have to explain myself."
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Someone knocked on the door.
Boyd jumped. His hand lurched forward and snatched a fistful of newspaper articles pinned to his wall. With a grunt, he tore them off and watched as they scattered to the carpet. Familiar names and faces mocked him as he examined the clippings. Dropping to his knees, he grabbed and crumpled them in his heavy hands, wincing as the knocking continued.
No one should have been bothering him. It was approximately four in the afternoon. The employees should have been at their jobs. He had already ensured the telephone workers stayed at their posts, the gardeners tended the flowers, and the housewives baked their pies. Although he couldn't trust them, he knew where they were at all times, their goals mutually entwined to uncover the Milkman.
Sharper knocking jolted him. Boyd breathed through his teeth and approached the window. Slowly, he lifted the blinds at the corner and peeked out. At his doorstep, he saw a flash of green and auburn curls. It was a little girl.
Boyd could have screamed. He clapped his hand over his mouth and withdrew from the window. He shook his head, muttering to himself, unsure of why she specifically targeted his home.
Despite his research, he hadn't been able to reveal anything of substance about the Rainbow Squirts. Their location was somewhere in town, but he hadn't the foggiest idea where. No one did. One day, the girls appeared and took over the streets, going door to door with cookies to sell, and today, a Rainbow Squirt had finally chosen to bother him.
A rhythmic beating on the door assaulted his eardrums. Boyd crept closer, shaking. He swallowed his spit and gripped the doorknob. Every muscle in his body tensed, his mouth drying. If he refused to answer the door, then she'd stay until he did. And if he accepted her challenge, then he had no fathomable idea what came next, the dull ache in his brain spreading to his nerves, his body warm with sweat.
With a grunt, Boyd flung open the door. The sunlight forced his eyes into a squint. He almost hissed, but he forced himself to leer down at the small girl whose shadow appeared larger than life.
He didn't know any of their names. He wondered if they had been named at all. With their identical garbs and hairstyles, the girl scouts were the same. They were like products on a conveyor belt. If one went missing or had been killed, another would eagerly replace the first.
"Hello!" she chirped, rocking back and forth on her rollerblades. "I am a Rainbow Squirt! Would you like to buy my rainbow treats? They're for a good cause."
"Are they poisoned? Or are they the kind with raisins instead of chocolate chips?" Boyd demanded.
"No, sir. These are our patented Choco Chompers," she said, holding up a colorful box. She shook it, and Boyd heard what were allegedly cookies rustling within. "We're having a sale today. One box is only five dollars."
His bottom teeth hit his upper incisors. He grumbled to himself, his lips twisting in a way that would have discomforted the neighbors. But the Rainbow Squirt stared at him with a dissimilar vacancy, as if she had expected his reaction, and she shook the box again, tempting him.
In a sing-song voice, she added, "Come on, sir, it's for a good cause-"
"What's your cause? Who are you working for?" he bellowed, his voice booming throughout the yard.
Boyd could have sworn the mailbox turned at his shout. The Rainbow Squirt giggled and tapped the toe of her rollerblade on his front step. She was undeterred and replied that it was for her organization. Boyd's heart hammered in his chest. He feared it would have plunged through a hole in his back. Taking several deep breaths, Boyd snatched the box of cookies out of her hands, shrieking to know if she had placed a tracking device in it.
Venom laced with sugar as she replied, "Mister, that's a funny way of talking. If you don't want it, then I'll go somewhere else." Without waiting, she leaped up and snatched it back. She cradled the box to her chest, huffing and sticking her nose in the air. "Creepazoid!"
Boyd's brow furrowed. He stepped forward to question her, but she skipped out of his yard. He glared at her backside, but his face fell. Other shadows crossed the pavement. Dozens of Rainbow Squirts scampered and roamed the sidewalks and the streets. They went door-to-door with their treats. Hands emerged from the dark confines of the neighbors' homes, exchanging money for their cookies. Doors slammed shut, and the girls gathered together, pooling over their dollars and coins.
The girl who had come to Boyd suddenly pointed at him. Dozens of eyes swarmed him. Boyd bit back a scream and tightened his grip on the doorframe. The girls simply stared at him, unmoving, like statues.
"Girls! Oh, girls, it's time to leave! You did so well today, but it's time to go home! Listen to your Den Mother, sweeties!"
Boyd's attention snapped to the end of the sidewalk at the sound of the cajoling call. A woman had emerged from a colorful van decorated in painted flowers and rainbows. She was a little taller than Boyd with angular features, her outfit like a customized Rainbow Squirt uniform. The Den Mother waved the girls over to her, and without any refusal, the girls hurried to her like good little soldiers.
He couldn't take it anymore. One petrifying query bled into the next in his head. His mind throbbed from such intense confusion. He needed answers. Boyd rushed out after them, and the girls screamed. They scrambled into the van, their Den Mother throwing her arms out to defend them when he charged. As they all crammed themselves in the van, they shut and locked the doors, and with their windows tinted, Boyd could no longer see them.
"Are you terrorizing my little girls? Shame on you!" the Den Mother snapped. "I'm not afraid to take care of a big man like you."
He shook his head, sputtering out an excuse when the window rolled down an inch. A Rainbow Squirt pointed at him through the crack, shouting that he had been cruel to her and tried stealing her cookies. A chorus of agreement rose from within, the van shaking at the intensity of the girls' shrill voices. Boyd wanted to clap his hands over his ears and hide.
The Den Mother gasped. "I can't believe what I'm hearing. You really are a sorry excuse for an adult," she growled, shaking her fist.
Boyd shook his head, demanding, "H-hey! Forget about that! What are you using that money for? Tell me!"
"Sir," the Den Mother snarled, her lip curling, "I don't have to explain myself to someone who frightened my Rainbow Squirts."
"You do! Yes, you do! You showed up one day without warning or a notice in the paper and-"
"And does it matter?" the Den Mother interjected, throwing out her arms. "We're here now whether you like it or not, and we don't plan on leaving." She stepped back to the driver's door and snatched the handle. Tearing it open, she thrust one leg inside and raised her finger. "I suggest sleeping with one eye open tonight, mister!"
He stopped breathing. Light flashed around him. Metal clanged on the concrete. He whipped his head over his shoulder, realizing, the mailboxes and fire hydrants now faced him. He screamed and rushed back to his home, the Den Mother and the Rainbow Squirts laughing. As he slammed the door shut and locked it, Boyd cowered in the shadows. He clutched his head, muttering to himself, the van's tires screeching on the pavement.
Despite his deligent detective work, he couldn't reach the truth. He wondered if he even wanted to comprehend the depths of the mystery plaguing his community. But Boyd had to persevere if he was going to survive. He had to unravel every clue and incriminate someone for filling the world with lies or else it might have been his head on the chopping block.
Even when an opened box of Choco Chompers appeared on his doorstep the next day, Boyd took it as a warning sign that the truth was going to be revealed sooner rather than later.