Trick Track Trend

The store was a buzz with children of all ages. Halloween was one of those holidays that allowed everyone, young and old, to feel like a kid again. Janine and her daughter, Reese, were shopping for Reese’ costume. She wanted something scary. Something that would make the kids in her class terrified. After a little over an hour, they found it. It was a zombie cheerleader. The suit was black with green slime sprayed across the front. Blood was splattered throughout the outfit. She was so excited. Janine found zombie make-up, latex for torn flesh effect and fake blood. Reese was excited. She went into the dressing room and tried on the costume. Her mom asked how it felt. She said like a glove. She walked out with a little red on her neck. She figured it was from the material rubbing her neck as she was excited to put it on in a hurry. They were able to pay quickly and they headed home. As Janine strapped Reese in her car seat, she noticed she was breathing heavily. She asked if she was okay, which Reese responded with, just tired. On the drive home she talked to her daughter and noticed her breathing was getting heavier. She asks what’s wrong with no response. She pulls over. As she opens the door to check on her daughter, Janine notices Reese’ face is swollen and red. Her eyes are almost shut. She is barely breathing. Janine panics. Finally, she gets back in the driver’s seat and drives fast to the nearest hospital. She dials 911 en route. At the hospital, an emergency team rushes out. Fearful that her mother abused her, they rushed Reese inside and forced Janine to move her car. As she runs into the emergency room, she is taken to the room Reese is in. Janine was asked what seemed like hundreds of questions as she watched doctors work on her daughter. Fear, anger, and confusion filled her. They asked if she was allergic to anything. “Not that we know of.” They asked how old she was. “4.”

After only fifteen minutes, a time that seemed to stand still for Janine, the doctors and nurses stopped rushing. She thought everything was fine until one doctor looked up at her, closed his eyes, lowered his head, and shook. Janine burst into hysterical tears and fell to a seated position on the floor. Two nurses tried to break her fall to no avail.

Her cries echoed through the hospital. The police were called as policy when a child comes in this condition. After extensive tests it was determined that Reese passed from extreme anaphylactic shock. They noted she was covered in peanut dust. Janine couldn’t understand. The doctor asked if she knew Reese was allergic to peanuts. She said no. She could not remember ever giving her anything with peanuts. She herself did not like the taste so she didn’t buy peanut butter or anything with peanuts.

She was told there would be an investigation. Normal under these circumstances. Janine explained Reese’ father passed away two years earlier and she was all Janine had. 

Three weeks had passed with no answers. Janine was portrayed as a bad mother in the media involving a horrible accident with her daughter. Janine has become a recluse. She has not left the house. Her job has given her notice. If she misses one more day she would lose her job. Janine sat in the dark in her daughter’s room. It was late. A knock on the door was ignored. After a few minutes another. The knocking finally stopped. A female police officer entered the room with her weapon drawn. “Ma’am, are you okay?” Janine gave the officer a blank look and returned her gaze to the wall. The officer lowered her weapon and entered the room. She flicked the light switch on and stood over Janine. She explained the case would be closed as an accidental death. The costume they found in the car was covered in peanut dust. The officer explained to her it appeared to be a trend. Janine sat up “What?”

The officer showed Janine her phone. A series of Trick Track trends where kids are putting itching power, dry detergent, or other things into costumes as a prank. It was determined, by the detective, that peanut dust was poured into the bag containing the costume. Whether Janine knew her daughter was allergic to Peanuts or not, wouldn’t have mattered. Janine asked if they had the person in custody. The officer looked embarrassed and told her they would not be able to find the person because the video had more than likely been shared thousands of times, and they had not seen the video. They are just assuming this is what happened. The case had been closed as an accidental death. 

Janine was told she could now get on with her life and put this behind her. 

Those words, ‘Get on with your life’ kept repeating in Janine’s mind. Her life. Her life was lowered in a pine box next to her husband. The box and headstone were donated by the funeral home. A child’s death, even a questionable one, brought out the side in people that most won’t ever see. Even hardened criminals change their attitude around small children. It’s human nature. Someone so small and young to lose their life. 

It had been almost two months since Reese died. Janine lost her job, her ambition, and her care for the world. Pure hatred and anger were the only things that got her out of bed in the morning. She downloaded the app. The Trick Track App. She used a fake name, email address and what she learned was a new way to hide your location. It was called VPN. She looked for all the videos of pranks. Especially the new trend that was right before Halloween. Opening costumes and pouring dried goods inside. After a while of watching these videos, she became even more angry. These were not pranks. They were felonies. And the ones that were not felonies were just mean and downright cruel. She watched one, a young man, man was too strong a word, but she didn’t have a better one at this time, bought costumes for children and adults. He took them home and urinated on them. After they dried, he folded them using gloves and placed them back in their packaging. He then returned to the store and, as he called it, reverse shop lifted. He placed the packages back on the hangers for people to find. He showed his face. He bragged about which store it was. It was posted three weeks before Halloween. She stalked his social media and found out who he was. Brent Spiegler. Known by the alias, ‘The grey goose’. The next day she found his address. He lived alone. Usually, friends stayed over but it was just him. No family. No girlfriend, no boyfriend. 

One early morning while the sun was still down, Janine drove and parked a few miles away from his home. She parked in a shopping mall lot that had a twenty-four-hour convenience store. She walked with a diaper bag across her chest, slung over her shoulder. She found his house easily. He liked showing pictures. He liked that people knew he had money. She headed up the front walk with her face wrapped in a beautiful scarf that her daughter had picked out for her on Mother’s Day. She thought about just knocking on the door but decided to try and turn the knob. Of course it was unlocked. She looked into the doorbell camera and walked in. The house smelled of alcohol and cigarettes with a hint of body odor. She walked slowly. Her sneakers made hardly a sound as she glided across the hardwood floor. She searched the rooms as she passed them. Electronics. Toys. Clothes. She finally found Brent. Laying on a sofa in a room that looked like a frat house from an old John Hughs movie. No one else was in the house. She pulled a tire thumper, a small piece of wood that resembles a baseball bat used by truck drivers to test the pressure in their tires, out of the diaper bag. She purchased the thumper years ago when she and Reese stopped at a truck stop. She left it in her car for protection. Today it had another purpose. She held the thumper with both hands and raised them above her head. Her heart was racing. She thought she would pass out from the adrenaline. She brought the thumper down with all her force on Brent’s ribs. He winced, jumped up and screamed. She hit him across the face, and he landed on the floor. Silent. She tied him up with the zip ties she bought from the same truck stop. His hands were behind his back and his knees were brought up to his chest. Tied at the ankles. It had not been an hour before he started coming too. He was still drowsy. As he blinked, trying to see, he felt pain radiating from his head down. He finally saw Janine. “What are you doing in my house?” He screamed. She crouched down low to look him in the eyes. She was wearing grey sweatpants and a white A frame tank top. Her Red hair was tied back in a high ponytail. He froze at the sight of her face. It was blank. No emotion whatsoever. “It does not matter who I am. It matters what you did.”

“I didn’t do anything.” He struggled against his restraints as they cut into his wrist and ankles. Blood trickled down to the floor. “I saw your videos. You pissed on a bunch of stuff and took them back to the store for people to wear.”

“What?”

“Why?”

His eyes searched frantically for anything, anyone to help him. She repeated herself. “It was just a prank. It was funny.”

“That was not a prank. I watched a few of your videos. Most of what you call pranks put people in the hospital.” He began to cry. He screamed. After he went silent, she smiled. “I saw your neighbors in some of your videos don’t like you. They’ve called the cops several times with no results. You’re loud. Arrogant. A piece of shit. I bet they think you’re just making another dumbass video.”

The realization that she was correct hit him. His face went pale. He tried to scream but fear stole his voice. She told him why she was there. He pleaded saying he never put peanuts in a costume. She told him it didn’t matter. It was people like him that were the problem. Creating dangerous TRENDs, as they call them. Janine wagered that Brent was one of the people during the pandemic that licked ice cream in the grocery stores and placed it back in the cooler. His face told her she was right. She was pacing back and forth in front of him. She drew all the strength she had. Just when he thought she had lost her nerve, she swung the bat in a downward motion on his right shoulder. She heard the bones break as Brent screamed. Almost wordless, spittle shot out of his mouth along with the squeals. Before he could register exactly what happened, she swung for his chest. He threw up as she prepared for the final blow. She brought the bat with all her force, all her hatred, all her love for her daughter, who was no longer with her and hit him on the back of his head. Blood and other bits flew across the room. His eyes bulged as he hit the floor. She saw his eyes cloud over as the blood flowed from the large hole she had created. She felt nauseous. She stopped herself from throwing up. She wiped the blood from the thumper using Brent’s shirt. Returned her items to the diaper bag and covered her face with the scarf. She walked out the front door. Looked back at the doorbell camera and wondered how long it would take for the police to identify her. She saw it all the time on tv. They had programs that broke down the height, weight, and everything else of the person on camera. A realization that she did not care came over her as she walked and turned down the street headed to her car. She passed an old man that was sitting on his porch enjoying the morning air. The sun was starting to peak over the horizon. She waved. No idea why. It’s just something she has always done. He waved back and smiled. A friendly old man. The next day she saw on the news about Brent’s death. It was ruled a homicide. She laughed and thought to herself. ‘No shit. He was tied up and half his brains were on the floor.” 

Janine had felt better this day than she had in a very long time. She missed her daughter more and more each day but now she felt she had a purpose. She made it her personal mission to hunt down these so-called internet celebrities. And make them pay. She knew deep down these were not the people responsible for her daughter’s death but all she could think is, ‘if people were hurting other people just so they could become popular. They were bullies.’ She was able to find one a week. They weren’t hard to find. Most of them were so narcissistic that they had their post office boxes listed and bragged about which stores are within walking distance. She just walked around the neighborhood to see if she could find their homes they posted or by chance could see the person she was looking for. 

The police claimed they had a serial killer but no leads. All they knew was all the victims, male and female, were trying to become famous on social media. She always thought they would find her. Come straight to her home based on the doorbell footage. The breakdown she saw on so many television and streaming shows. Apparently, they were all lies. Or the police didn’t care enough. She continued on. Searching for current trends. One day something happened. One day she saw a video of a familiar store. The content creator, as she found out they liked to be called, grabbed a zombie cheerleader costume from a hook inside the store. She heard laughter as he opened it. Someone she couldn’t see held the costume bag as he opened a small bag and showed it to the camera. An ice-cold chill ran down Janine’s back as the little bag had the words ‘PEANUT DUST” written in block letters. The man said he bought it offline and laughed as another said you can buy anything online. Janine could not fight the tears that flooded her eyes as she watched this person pour the dust in and seal the costume. He then shook it. Making sure the dust spread. He hung the costume back on the hook. But not the front. It was three or four costumes back. As they were leaving the store Janine paused the video. She thought she saw something. She rewatched it, pausing at the end. As they were leaving, they recorded themselves running out of the store. Janine saw, while the video was paused, her daughter holding her hand as they were entering the store. 

Janine gripped her phone tight and began to cry. She cried hysterical tears for her daughter. The last picture of her daughter was walking into a store where Janine bought the costume that would kill her. 

It took Janine two weeks to find the person who posted the original video. His name was Derrick Brude, he went by B-Rude on all his social media. She found where he was from. A small neighborhood two miles away. He didn’t post his address, but his followers did. She drove by a few times to see if it really was his place or not. It was. According to the last post Janine saw, B-Rude was planning to have a Christmas party the day after Christmas so he could spend time with his girlfriend and their close friends on Christmas Eve. They were going to ‘Live Stream’ what they did that night. Games, food, what they call a good time.’ Janine decided to walk. Being Christmas Eve, everyone was inside. Enjoying family time. Also, it was extremely cold. The needle dropped to almost twenty degrees. She was wearing her grey sweatpants and white A frame tank top, both covered with spots of blood, beneath a large trench coat designed for Montana winters. Fleece lined. Hide leather on the outside. Reese loved horses. Janine promised her one day they would go to Montana to ride horses with real cowboys. They bought matching Trench coats that year for fun. The diaper bag hung low off her shoulder. Weighted down with extra tools and toys. The scarf Reese gave her was tied around Janine’s neck. She decided she would not hide her face tonight. If he had a doorbell camera, she wanted it to see her. She stood outside of B-Rude’s home. She passed a few people outside fixing last minute Christmas lights. Some waved. Most were busy. She walked up to the front door and knocked. At first no answer. The music was loud. She pushed the button on the doorbell camera and heard the chime echo through the house. Still no answer. After a few moments she tried the doorknob. It was locked. She looked around the front of the house and decided to go through the back yard. The gate to the back was broken. If he had a dog, it would have already run off. She reached the back sliding door on the porch and pulled the door to the side. She entered and closed the door. It was winter after all. She looked around the room she was in and saw no one. It appeared to be a bedroom of sorts. There was a bed, a dresser and a tv. No pictures. No personal effects. Nothing. She exited the room to a hallway. The music seemed lower inside the house. She thought maybe it was connected to outside speakers. She checked all the rooms. She found the same thing. No pictures. Nothing but a bed and a tv. One room didn’t even have a TV. Janine followed the hallway to a large room with an open floor plan. A living space that connects to a kitchen. It was a beautiful house. She was beginning to think she had missed them, and then she heard it. She heard moaning coming from the open door across what she deemed the living room. The door was opened all the way and colored strobed light came from within. She crept slowly to the door and looked inside. She saw five people. They were engaged in what she would describe as an orgy. She read about one once. A bunch of people get together. Get naked and have sex with whomever is available. She saw B-Rude laying on a large bed, which looked like two kings sized pushed together, with one naked girl sitting on his crotch and another sitting on his face. The girls were kissing as they gyrated. She saw the other two on the edge of the bed beside the threesome. The man was blind folded in a downward facing dog with his hands bound with silk rope. Behind him was a blond girl with a strap on dildo ramming him as hard as she could. He moaned with each thrust. Janine watched for a moment and looked around the room. She saw a camera on a tripod pointed at B-Rude and his group while a phone on a self-tracking gimbal was focused on the girl pegging the guy. No one seemed to notice when Janine walked into the room. She looked down at the camera and noticed it was connected to a laptop. Comments jumped up every few moments. She looked at the phone and saw the same thing. ‘Their live streaming their fucking.’ She thought. Her attention was drawn by a scream. The girl sitting on B-Rudes’ face finally saw her and she screamed. She was pushed off his face by B-Rude with such force she fell to the floor. She sat up and backed into a corner. The other girl covered her breast with her arms and jumped off. The girl pegging the boy turned. Dripping a brown lube like liquid onto the bed off the tip of the large dildo. Janine was temporarily impressed he could take the whole thing. The bound, gagged man could not move. Janine discovered he was tied to the bed.

“Who the fuck are you?”

One of the girls ran towards the door, no longer caring she was naked. Janine stopped her and threw her on the bed. She then closed the door. B-Rude tried to quickly get off the bed only to be met with a pistol whipped to the face. He dropped on the bed and covered his face. Janine was holding a small handgun she had brought. She pointed it at B-Rude. She pulled a handful of zip-ties out of the diaper bag and handed them to strap-on. “Tie everyone up. Hand and legs. Tie those two together.” She pointed with her chin to the two naked girls who were riding B-Rude. She protested. Janine pulled the hammer back on the handgun. One of the most frightening sounds in the world if you are on the wrong end of it. She began to cry and took the ties. She did the girls first. They whimpered and begged to be let go. “Don’t fucking touch me bitch.” B-Rude eyes never left Janine as he spoke to strap-on. Janine shot him in the left leg just below the knee. He cried out in agony. Strap-on tied his hand in front of him and zipped his hands to the ties on his ankles. “You fucking shot me. Call an ambulance.”

At the sound of the gun, the dog boy tried to free himself. Janine shot him in the head. His limp body dropped to the bed. Blood poured out of the wound in his head. The women screamed in unison. Janine tied strap-On’s hands together. She fought the best she could. She hit Janine on the head and tried to run past her. Janine pulled out her thumper and shattered strap-On’s right knee cap. She dropped and screamed. She grabbed at her knee and saw a bone sticking through the skin. Janine Looked behind her and angled the camera towards strap-on and beat her with the thumper. She broke her two arms when she held them up to deflect the blows. Finally, she dropped the bloody piece of wood on the girl’s face. Shattering into pieces. Strap-on dropped in the now open door. The two girls who were tied together were holding each other and crying. B-Rude was watching Janine. “Why the fuck are you doing this?”

Janine sat on a chair in the corner opposite the bed, after resetting the camera and phone on B-Rude and the remaining girls and told him her story. She told him about her daughter, Reese. She told him about the anaphylactic shock. How she died in the hospital. He protested. He said he never did that. She showed him the video. His eyes went dark as he said, “It was just a prank.” She picked up the tire thumper and hit him across his left cheek. Not hard enough to do serious damage, just enough to let him know that she did not believe him. She could hear the sirens. He lived in a nice neighborhood after all. Plus, she figured his audience called the police too. One of the girls said without thinking, “I told you not to do it.” Janine stood and stalked to the other side of the room. “You were there?” She wanted to say no but couldn’t. She couldn’t speak. Janine pulled a knife from the diaper bag now on the bed. The woman screamed, begging her not to. Janine told her to raise her hands. Janine cut the ties. The girl tried to run. Janine stabbed her in the stomach. The girl stopped, grabbing her bleeding midsection. Janine helped her sit on the bed in front of the cameras. Janine slid the knife to the side, exposing her intestines to the internet world. She let her sit there bleeding out for the camera. The other woman was shaking her head violently. Janine walked to her. And crouched. Janine told her about her daughter. How she was a happy girl. Never screamed. Never cried. Just played. She told the girl, and the listening B-Rude, how they ruined her life when they took her daughter away from her. Just for a video. “I’m so sorry.” Snot ran from her nose as she cried. Janine plunged the knife upward under the woman’s chins. Running the blade deep into her brain. Her eyes glazed instantly. Janine pulled the knife out and her body fell into the corner of the room. She turned her attention to the man on the bed. The sirens were right outside. She heard one of the officers tell someone to go around back, and he was going through the front. She thought to herself, ‘the shows do get it wrong. These fuckers are loud..’ She stood over B-Rude. Next to the bed opposite the door. She heard movement inside the house. She crawled onto the bed. Her tank top now sticky with blood. She crawled next to him. And cradled him in her arms. She held his head in a half nelson. She had the knife in her free hand. Two officers breached the door. Weapons drawn. One kneeled on the floor. “Drop the knife and move away from him.” The officer that was kneeling surveyed the room. She raised her knife hand high. The officer that stood repeated, “Drop the knife and step away from the man.”

After a heartbeat he added. “Lady, if you kill him we will drop your ass.”

She looked the officer in the eye and said one word. “Promise?” She plunged the knife deep into B-Rude’s chest. Right into his heart. As the knife found its target the officers fired. One hit her in the right chest, the other, in between the eyes. B-Rude died instantly. Janine smiled as her eyes closed. She could hear her daughter call her. As the world went black she could hear one of the officers say, “Turn those fucking cameras off.”