The Sacrifices we Make

Short Story by Troy Arndt


No one knew how Cancer Man got his name or where he came from. That information, if ever known, had been lost over the years.

Perhaps the name came from the belief, handed down from one generation to the next, that he would spread misfortune and pestilence to the flourishing area if he was ever denied what he came for.

He was not a permanent fixture in the plush community that gave him what he wanted in exchange for his allowing them to keep what they desired. He was never seen at all except for the occasional visits he made whenever the need arose within him.

No one knew when he would arrive. The only warning came from those whose houses he passed; frantic phone calls to the others in the neighborhood that Cancer Man was passing through.

James Patterson answered the phone when it rang, listened, then hung up.

"Honey, get the list out and start calling," he said.

"Are you sure?"she came from the kitchen, wiping dish suds from her hands.

"Of course I’m sure. Just call the others. Susan! Charlie! Get down here now!"

The two children came to the top of the stairs and looked down at their father. He had pulled a jacket from the hall closet and was now looking at his reflection in a mirror next to the front door.

James frowned at the damage middle-age had done to his waistline. The jacket still fit,but it was much more snug than the last time he had put it on.

"What’s wrong dad?" Charlie asked.

"It’s time.Now get down here and stand at the door."

Charlie walked down the stairs on wobbly legs. His younger sister took a few steps then stopped.

"Mommy, I’m scared," she said.

"Hush now, Susan.Mommy’s on the phone." She held the list and a cigarette with one hand, using the other to hold the cell phone up to her ear."Hello, Angela? Yes, this is Katie Patterson. Uh-huh. He’s coming."

"Let’s get a move-on people," James said. He had decided the jacket looked good enough, so he turned from the mirror, watching as Charlie and Susan slowly came down the stairs.

"Daddy, what if he comes to our house this time? I don’t want to go. I’m scared."

James put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. "Honey, he probably won’t choose us. He’s come dozens of times since you’ve been born and he hasn’t picked us yet has he?"

Susan looked down at her tennis shoes. "No."

"So see? Nothing to worry about. There are hundreds of others out there. He might have already nabbed someone."

He led Susan and her brother into the living room, wiping sweat from his brow. "Let’s move it, Katie."

"Just hold on! I have a few more calls to make."

James looked at his children, slicking down their hair and smoothing out their shirts. Katie came back into the room, balanced her cigarette on the lip of an ashtray, and went to where the others stood facing the door.

"Ready?”James asked.

"Ready as I’ll ever be," Katie said.

Susan began to cry. "I don’t want to go. It’s gonna hurt. Please don’t make me go.?

"It won’t hurt, Susan," Katie said. She bent over and rubbed the little girl on the back.

"Yes it will. You know it will! We all hear it. I hear it every time!"

James pulled his wife from Susan and motioned her toward the living room window. "Go look out and see if he’s coming."

He squatted down in front of Susan, shaking her by the arms. "Just quiet down! You know the rules, Susan. You picked the short stick. Now just look your best and we’ll see what happens."

He let go of her and stood up, pulling two sticks from his jacket pocket.

"Here, take these." He handed a stick to each of his children, giving the short one to Susan.

She took it with an unsteady hand, rubbing its tip with her thumb. "Daddy, I’m not ready. Why do we have to do this all the time?"

"It’s just how it is," he said.

"I’m scared too," Charlie said. He stood next to his sister.

"You have nothing to be worried about," James said.

"But I am. I’m scared for Susan. Can’t we hide her or something?"

James didn’t answer. Instead he joined his wife who was kneeling on the couch, peeking through the blinds that covered the living room window.

Placing a long stick in one of her hands, he grasped her other and held it tight. They looked outside.

The street was bare. The usual afternoon joggers had disappeared, just like the children who had been running through lawn sprinklers. Not one person could be seen moving about. News had spread fast and now everything was silent.

"I think I see something!" Katie said. She gripped her husband’s hand tighter and they both looked toward the end of the street.

It was hard to see him at first; a small dot shimmering in the waves of summer heat on the horizon. But as he drew closer, his form began to take shape. There was no mistaking it. Cancer Man had returned.

He was a sharp contrast to the vibrant colors that made up this slice of suburbia he had drifted into.

His skin was pure white and the sun glared brightly off his bald head. His eyes were gray, as was the tattered robe he wore over his lean body. His bare feet were shod in sandals made of leather he himself had tanned from leftover skins collected over the years.

The thin, red lips that made a crack in his face formed the hint of a smile. His gaze moved from one side of the street to the other, as if he were admiring the handiwork and care shown toward the homes by the owners now cowering inside them.

With each house he passed, a curtain would shift or a door would crack open. Those who saw Cancer Man’s back knew they were safe till his next return.

Cancer Man kept to the middle of the street, never drifting too far to the left or right. His stride was slow but sure and he never lost pace till finally stopping at an intersection.

He stood still, taking in the emptiness that surrounded him. Lawn mowers had been deserted on front lawns, leaving paths of shorn grass in the overgrowth. Water ran down into gutters from driveways where, not even half an hour before, people had been washing their vehicles. Slick, soapy water dried on BMWs and SUVs, their owners having no time to rinse it off.

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