Chapter
Twenty-five -- Dead Air
Dead air.
Then interference. The sound of
sandpaper on raw wood like splinters piercing my eardrums. I listened
and waited, watching Sid's face. I didn't have to hear his voice to know
Shackleton was on the other end.
"Yes?" I asked. More
dead air, then his voice--
"Look out the window."
I hesitated. So he was out there. I
didn't need to step up to the window. I didn't need to look. I didn't
need to draw back the curtain. I didn't even need to see him standing
twelve feet from our window to know he was there. I didn't need to, but
I was compelled to. I took the steps and pushed back the musty curtains.
Diffused light from the porch exaggerated his jagged form. The dark
transformed him into some unworldly predatory creature-- his tan slacks
and brown suit jacket no longer looked ordinary but ominous.
"Go away--" I hissed.
I watched him with his Nextel
phone pinned to his ear and a self-satisfied smirk pasted on his face.
"But don't you want to hear my
deal?"
"I don't make deals. Not with
you."
"I think you will... You see Wes,
you have no other choice. Come outside and it won't get messy."
I felt Sid press against my back,
looking out the window over my shoulder. He cussed under his breath.
Shackleton smiled, then stepped back,
his face half concealed by the shadows from the tops of poplar trees
that stood complacently by of the dunes. His free hand fumbled for
something inside the lining of his jacket. I spied a flash of reflected
metal-- a gun.
"You wouldn't want anything to
happen to that charming young man behind you, would you Mr. Grant?"
"No.." I choked, cursing
myself for letting my voice betray my emotion. "I'll be right
out."
I flipped the cell phone off as Sid
grabbed my arm. "You're not going out there with him. No way."
"If I don't, he'll shoot
you."
I'd turned to Sid as the gun popped,
glass splintering like icy rain into the room. I pushed Sid, and we both
crashed backward onto the floor. I banged the back of my head into Sid's
jaw, and I felt silvery fingers of pain in my face as my cheek scraped
his. I looked into his eyes-- it took me all of a nanosecond to realize
Sid was fine. I winced again.
"Fucking hell," Sid
whispered, reaching up and carefully pulling the glass splinter out of
my face. He frowned at it, then at me. My eyes watered. "That was
close. I think I felt the bullet fly by my head."
He started to stand, and I yanked him
down.
"What the fuck are you
doing?" I hissed. I crouched down and made my way to the window,
crunching through the glass.
"Careful, he can blow your head
off as well as mine," Sid whispered.
"Yeah, I'll be careful-- I'm
kinda fond of both our heads."
I sucked in my breath and got up the
nerve to look outside when I heard Smith hollering, "Are you
fucking crazy?!"
I heard the bits of glass grinding
under Sid's feet as he pushed up beside me. He gave his 'I'm so
worldly' eye wink as he wiped the blood off my cheek. "Might as
well peek over the window sill together," he whispered. "I
think we'll be safe."
I jumped as someone yelled,
"Hell!" at the top of their lungs. "He's fucking
dead!"
It was Smith.
"Shit," Sid cursed under his
breath as the light from the back porch unveiled the scene.
Shackleton wasn't really dead.
He just looked that way. There Glenda stood, staring down at
Shackleton. My senses spiked. I heard and saw all of it, but worst of
all I could feel it inside me. The grit of the sand and blood in my
mouth-- the pain in my head. I looked at him sprawled face up in the
sand, and could have sworn I was looking inside myself. I watched
as Glenda gritted her teeth and raised the shovel over her head, winding
up for another swing. Smith grabbed a hold of the handle before she let
it fly.
It was like a bird some two-year-old
was squeezing and by some miracle released. I jumped free and sprinted
out the bedroom and down the narrow hallway, Sid on my heals.
When we rounded the corner of the
house, I saw Les had beaten us to Smith. Les stood face to face with
Smith-- forehead pressed against Smith's. I could see as we drew closer
Smith's eyes searching for mental support and his hand like a claw
gripping Les's arm for physical support.
Glenda still had the shovel, but it
rested against her leg. She kicked it with the side of her foot.
"Jesus Christ, ya killed
him," Smith whispered to her, as he tugged away from Les and knelt
down in the sand next to Shackleton's body.
"Believe me, he's not
dead..." Glenda said.
"Who is he?" Les asked.
"You've heard his name-- Simon
Shackleton," she answered.
"Oh man," Les said, looking
at me, his lips thin with worry.
I knelt down beside Smith, carefully
turning Shackleton's head, inspecting the wound. Blood, bones and
brains. Damn, those lithe little arms of Glenda's packed some power. I
stared up at her. Her expression was peaceful, serene. She looked like
Ivan, her masseuse, had just completed a full body massage. If it
wasn't for the bloody shovel in her hand and her jaw twitching, I
wouldn't have known she'd crushed the back of Shackleton's skull.
"How can you say he's not
dead?" Smith said, cautiously nudging him. "He's dead. Christ,
his brains are on her fucking shovel. Nobody could live with their head
crushed like that."
"He's not dead, just
resting," she said calmly.
My head began to throb again.
Sid kicked Shackleton in the ribs. I
flinched.
"No such luck," Sid
said under his breath. "If he was dead, it'd be a relief." Sid
kicked him one more time. I could swear I felt a hitch in my side where
he kicked Shackleton.
"Hey!" Smith yelled.
"That's enough! Have some respect for the dead!"
As I looked at Shackleton, I
wondered what was going on inside me. This was new-- except for Sid, I'd
never been able to get into someone else's skin with out touching them
first. Maybe I'm a romantic but I thought it was special between me and
Sid. I'd thought it was because we were kindred souls. Now, this with
Shackleton-- my worst enemy-- I wondered about all the assumptions I'd
made regarding my powers. Had they always been this way? Were they
strengthening?
Shackleton groaned, and Smith jumped,
stumbling to his feet.
"Fucking hell, I don't believe
it--" Smith whispered, taking two steps back, "he is still
alive. I'm callin' an ambulance."
Smith turned for the house, Les
grabbed his pizza- stained t-shirt, pulling him back. "No."
"No?! You can't just leave him to
die. Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on?! Who is he?!"
Smith asked.
"An obsessed fan-- and will you
shut up!" I said. "You'll wake up my sister and Alan. Last
thing we need is to explain this to them, too. Fucking calm down."
"Shut up?!? Now you're telling me
not to get excited, or I might wake up your precious sister? I think you
have serious issue with what constitutes a problem. To me, someone
whacked in the head with a shovel is more serious than you sister's
beauty sleep. Shit. All of you are acting strange. Tell me what the hell
is going on right now, or I'll wake the dead and your
sister."
"That's an incredibly bad choice
of words-- considering what Karen's been through," Sid said.
"Oh, don't throw that in my face!
Just what I need is more 'Oh, Smith is so insensitive' right now.
You're the ones wacking people in the head and kicking their side. And
as for waking the dead--shit-- it's the truth! I think I'm in a manic
cross between Night of the Living Dead and Nightmare on Elm
Street! Glenda just did a Freddy Krueger on this poor
son-of-a-bitch..."
"He's no poor
son-of-a-bitch," she said.
"That's harsh-- I mean wishin' an
obsessed fan dead is one thing, but clobbering him over the head is
extreme, don't ya think? And now you're gonna stand here and watch him
die?"
"He's dangerous," Sid said.
"He deserves worse."
"Who is this guy?" Smith
asked again.
"More like what..." I
answered. "You wouldn't understand..."
"Clue me in..."
"He tried to kidnap Wes,"
Sid interrupted.
"Kidnap? How come I'm the last to
know this shit?" Smith asked. "When did this happen?"
"This afternoon," I said.
"And it wasn't him, I mean, it was him-- he sent someone
else to kidnap me."
Smith stared at me, eyebrows raised.
"What in the hell are you going on about?" he asked.
"Nothing you say makes any sense. Maybe you're in shock-- maybe
you're all in shock. Nothing any of you are doing makes sense
either."
"We'd better tie him up before he
becomes fully conscious," Glenda suggested to Sid.
"I'll get some rope out of the
boat--" he answered. I watched him jog off down the dune.
"What?" Smith said.
"Tie him up? What for? I don't think he'll be putting up much of a
fight in his condition. Don't you think we should be calling the cops?
If he's some kidnapper..."
"No," Glenda said,
punctuating her answer with the shovel by wedging its point into the
sand. She hoisted a shovel full, the grains spilling over the sides.
"I know exactly what to do with him."
"What?" I asked.
"Bury him," she said. Her
eyes bored into me as she dumped the sand onto Shackleton's chest.
"What did you say?" Smith
voice was hushed, his face a cloud of disbelief. Les stepped closer to
Smith, shoulder to his chest. He whispered something to him, although I
didn't try to hear because what little composure I had left was
fracturing.
My insides chilled. Goose bumps spread
up my arms. Suddenly I felt like I was in the 45- degree walk-in cooler
back at the flower shop. I hated him, too. I hated what he was-- is...
but--
"Over there is perfect," she
pointed. "Of course we'll have to make the hole very deep."
I shook my head, "No, no," I
heard myself saying. I stared down at Shackleton, and I saw him
grimace.
"But I thought you said he wasn't
dead?" Smith said, incredulously.
"He's not," I whispered.
"Listen Glenda, I hate the guy as much as you do, maybe more, but
we'd be like him if we did this."
"I'm not asking for your help or
permission. I'm telling you what I intend to do. He deserves much
worse. As I see it, it's the only way to keep you and Sid safe. It's the
only way to protect the future."
Sid walked slowly up to us, white
nautical rope in hand. He kneeled beside me and began binding
Shackleton's hands.
"What's wrong?" he mumbled
looking at me, tightening the slack in the cord with his teeth. My hands
began to tingle.
"Glenda wants to bury him
alive..."
He sat back on his knees and looked at
me a moment, then crawled down by his legs and began wrapping the cord
taunt around Shackleton's ankles. Sid silently tied his feet. Then he
met my eyes for an instant and turned to Glenda.
"Where at?" he asked her
coldly. She pointed over to the dark wooded area of the dunes. Sid
nodded.
My stomach tightened in disbelief.
What was he thinking of? Where was the soft-edged Sidney who gently
wiped blood from my cheek just minutes ago?
"You can't be serious," I
said, clenching my hands.
"Yeah, I am. It's the only way to
stop him-- the only thing that will work short of chopping off his head
or burning him alive."
I shook my head. Sid's jaw set. He
wasn't going to change his mind.
"And if it doesn't work?" I
asked. "He'll just be really pissed off."
"It will work," Glenda
countered. "I'll bury him so deep he could never dig himself
out."
I felt the grit in my mouth. The
burning in my chest. The crushing weight. The unfathomable darkness.
Fuck. No way. "You can't do it." I choked.
"He's right-- you can't do this.
Why are you even arguing about this? It's insane," Smith said.
Shackleton's hands clenched. He
moaned.
"Stay there with Smith. I'll take
care of him," Sid said to me then turned to Glenda. "I'll do
it. We can both do it."
I stepped back-- frozen.
"This is fucking crazy! What are
you thinking?!" Smith screamed.
Sid grabbed the rope between
Shackleton's ankles and began dragging him toward the woods with Glenda
behind. I watched-- immobile.
"You're just going to let them do
this?" Smith said to Les and me.
"Yes," Les said quietly,
starting for the house. "Let's go back inside and talk. I think I
have a lot to explain to you..."
"A lot to explain?!" Smith
said, following behind Les. "I don't think you could ever explain
this to me. I don't know why I should listen to anything you have to
say..."
I felt like an acrophobia who's about
to bungee jump head first off the edge of the Grande Canyon. My heart
pumped and head swam. No way could I let Sid do this alone, but I
couldn't move. My legs locked-- like they were tied together instead of
Shackleton's. Couldn't force myself to follow. I watched helplessly as
they disappeared into the dark of the trees.
"Are you coming?" I heard
Smith ask me, his voice sounded far off and surreal. Back to the
house. Back where it was safe. I couldn't move that way either.
"No."
I stood there a long time, hours,
listening to my own heart pound, my feet cold in the sand. Every so
often I'd catch a word or two. One from Sid or one from Glenda. Time
slowed, voices slurred. I'd feel like an eternity passed as I struggled
to move. Voices rose and fell. Finally I did it. I put one foot ahead of
the other, following the line in the sand that Shackleton's feet had
made when Sid dragging him. I followed. As I got to the edge of the
poplars, I stopped again.
Listening.
I heard Shackleton. I heard the sand
squeak. I heard Sid cough. I heard disjointed words. I felt like someone
else. A specter maybe. As I began to walk following the voices that
carried up from the backside of the dune, I became more disjointed. I
felt something cold under foot. I'd crushed it. I bent down, thinking at
first it was a piece of Shackleton's cell phone until my finger touched
it. A piece of his skull-- part of him. I can't explain why I did
what I did next-- some madness maybe. I was like Doctor Frankenstein
shrinking away from his creation, then irresistibly drawn to the thing
that would destroy him.
I slowly reached for it. I had
to pick it up. Even as my mind said no, I reached. I had to have
it. Profane, repulsive, inhuman yet strangely narcotic-- I picked it up.
With a twinge of horror and delight, I laughed aloud. I sounded crazy. I
realized as my eyes burned, I was drowning in my own sweat. I stood
up, shaking. My chest hurt like I'd punctured my lung. I held it.
Fingers twitching, my other hand jerking near than far, wanting to touch
it too. Part of me said, drop it. The other part of me slipped it into
my pocket.
I wondered how the hell my life could
have gotten this fucked up. As I started toward them again, I wished for
my old life back, when all I wanted was to own my own flower shop and
listen to brides-to-be argue if sonia or minuet sweetheart roses would
accent the brides' maids dresses. It was so far away now, I'd almost
forgotten that part of me. Standing on dune with a piece of cranium in
my jeans pocket, I wished I'd wake up, and this was all a dream-- tap my
heals three times and say, 'there's no place like home.'
Then I remembered what happened the last
time I wished something away-- this is what happened. All
this. Maybe I'd better forget wishing if this is what I got...
As I neared them, I strained my eyes
to see although I was terrified-- I already saw it in my mind's eye.
Down the slope of the wooded dune, the moon illuminated Sid as he
shoveled. He was inside the hole he'd dug with only the top of his head
visible above the sand. That same shovel. Sand flew out of the pit. I
stood transfixed watching the sand sparkle, casting an eerie haze like
hundreds upon thousands of infinitesimal prisms. I had to shut and open
my eyes again to be sure it wasn't some aura surrounding Sid's head. But
it didn't work. I still saw it all-- it was still there like a ghost
behind my eyelids.
Sid was almost finished. The aura was
gone. Glenda noticed me first. I don't know what I intended to do or say
to stop them. I had no clear argument. I knew why they were here. Sid
participated in this abomination to protect me. Glenda to protect order.
I suppose in some part of our minds each of us was trying to justify
sealing Shackleton in this eternal glass tomb. At least I knew I was. I
knew why Sid believed this had to be. I knew why Glenda reasoned this
was the only way. I'd watched them and tried to buy into their thinking.
I tried. My brain rewound some old insurance commercial selling a policy
stating that they're 'people, making a better world.'
I couldn't bring myself to buy the policy-- the deductible was too high.
"You can't stop us," she
said to me. "This will end."
I thought, what melodrama. I
choked out a laugh-- almost the same maniacal outburst I had
moments earlier in the woods. This was insane. I wanted Glenda to be
right-- that this would end. But I knew better. No way to wipe
Shackleton's memory off the face of the earth. Not even if I
changed time. I'd still remember. The patch of skin on my hip that was
rubbed raw from Shackleton's skull would recall...
"Understand," she said to
me, "he is nothing-- just a drop. But he could change it all-- make
a ripple-- "
Karen used to get frustrated with me
because I had a hard time seeing The Big Picture. Now I was pretty damn
sure I saw The Grand Design inside this situation. Trouble was, the big
picture became small when there's a hole six feet deep with your name on
it. As far as I was concerned they were burying me along with my worst
enemy. I felt that piece of him leaching inside me. Shit, it was
leaching inside all of us. They were burying a part of their souls, too.
I wasn't sure if I could talk sense into them. Hell, there was a part of
me that didn't want to talk sense into them. Might be best not to. But I
had to give it one last try.
I only wished that Shackleton was
still out cold.
I helped Sid out of the hole. His hand
was slick from sweat, and I latched onto his forearm to pull him out.
With a jolt I felt the intensity of his conviction in this mess. I
searched his eyes as sweat rolled from his matted hair like rivers.
"This isn't going to work,"
I pleaded. "The ground will give him up. Something will happen. Or
worse, you'll lose a part of us. It's like messing with time; it's not
for us to play with. You said that once-- that we shouldn't mess with
time. You were right. Don't do this."
"I'm doing this so you won't
end up messing with time," he said. "What other solution is
there to all this? What other choice do I have? He'll destroy what you
are. He's come after us and come after us. He will not give up. Fuck,
just ask him. I bet he hears what I'm saying. No way-- I'm not going to
let you be trapped in limbo or worse spend eternity in a living hell
with this sick monster. And what if he discovers your secret and becomes
like you? What would he do with that power? I don't want to think
about it. The only way out other than this is to change time again.
That's a throw of the dice. What if it's worse than this? That's why I'm
ending it here. It's not your choice, Wes. Not any more."
He shoved Shackleton into the grave
with the heal of his foot. Air forced out of my lungs.
"Go back to the house," he
ordered and he took a shovel full of sand and dumped it into the grave.
"No!" I shouted. It wasn't
going to work. Neither of them would change their minds. Sid said he had
only one choice. Now he left me with only one choice, too.
This time I wished for real. In a
flash, it all changed.
At first I thought it was Shackleton
screaming. Then I realized it came from somewhere else. In my head. Not
me. Not him. Like some animal in agony. Maybe it was both of us
screaming in terror together.
Then I understood why. I understood
our morbid connection. My horror. My pain.
There was nothing in my pocket.
Sid was gone. So was Glenda. Sand cut
the inside my mouth as I squinted my eyes to see Shackleton hovering
above me. With his shovel, he flung sand down on me.
I was the one in the hole.
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