The Host: Chapter 10

20 November 2009 Tags: chapters, novels No Comment

Chapter 10

I was once again snared in the dirty claws of this day. I was confused and uncertain of myself. I lacked confidence as I began to wonder if I had ever had a thought of my own, something that came from me and wasn’t some bullshit rehashing of what everybody else already knew. Did I always have the gift? Were my thoughts someone else’s? And how could I think that? How could I earnestly believe that every thought I had ever had didn’t come from me? It was because at that moment I looked at myself and saw a stranger. I had no idea who I had ever been because who I was…was new. I hated what I looked back to see, because I was jealous of that old me. My thoughts were voiced by an old companion, myself when I wasn’t a lunatic. And then, as I ran I felt unsure of what I would do. I only could believe that my hopes were clean and maybe my friend would once again be me.

But there was no time to take on the change.

Why did Max run away? How does he know the phrase? Is he afraid of me?

I ran after him, down the hill, past the head shops and the pizza parlor, and the other bars and the gas station. Police cars were parked in front of Rusty’s, but nobody saw me run.

…..

I AM NOT CRAZY!!!…Whoever gave me this is.

…..

The fog twisted around me as I ran. My face was wet and my hair stuck to my brow. Max was way ahead of me, but I could still see him. He ran fast and never looked over his shoulder. He turned down a side street, and ran past the Old Dutch Church. Someone was sitting on the bench, but I ran past and did not notice who it was.

My breath was strained. I was tired. I was tired of this day. I no longer felt curious, or interested in people at all. I wanted the supernatural feeling to disappear, even though I still felt a little like a judge only minutes away from my moment to shine. I was minutes away from the end, from the closing arguments that inevitably lead to the bang of the gavel. I had no more control or prudence to give. I was now a puppet, a story for the people, a scribble out of God’s pen. I was a human circumstance about to hear my sentence.

I was actually gaining on Max. I pushed so hard as I ran. The fog seemed to thicken as the streetlamps became more sparse and spaced between each other. The fog was less yellow and now I ran through a burly layer of charcoal grey.

And a black Lincoln drove right in front of me. Its breaks were clamped and the car screeched as it skidded in the moist road in front of me. I ran right into the fender, smacked my knee on it, and then I rolled up over the car, onto the hood. The pain shot from my knee to my foot.

The car door opened.

“Get off my car you piece of shit.” I will ruin him. He will get what he deserves.

The man came over and grabbed me by my sweater. It tore as he tried to pull me off the hood.

I grabbed my knee. It hurt like it was broken, but I could still move it. The injury both stabbed and burned. The man kept pulling until he did manage to get me off the hood. I fell to the ground and hit my injured knee again. I would not scream in pain. On my back, on the ground I watched him walk to the back of his car. He opened his trunk and pulled out what looked like a stick covered in a blanket.
He closed the trunk, turned, and threw off the blanket that covered his weapon. It was a fencing sword, a sharp foil.

The Mayor walked over to me … with a sword.

“What are you doing?” I said.

“Stand up Bouchard. Stand up…now!” Boy, I am going to get him.

“Mr. Lucas, what the hell are you doing?”

I struggled to get to my feet. I put most of my weight on my arms and pushed, shifting my weight to my good leg.

“Don’t you call me that. You call me Mayor, Mr. Mayor, Mayor sir…OK, Bouchard?” It’s his turn now. I got him.

“Jesus, Mayor…what do you think you’re doing?”

He pointed the foil at my chest.

“I’m going to hurt you now. I hope you got my message. Soon, you’ll be out of a job, you idiot.”

“And that’s not enough for you?” I said.

“No way Bouchard. No friggin way.” He’s mine.

“What is this? A sword? What are you going to do, kill me?”

I stepped back, towards a large oak tree. The fog looked like a black mirage, like black heat.

“I don’t know Bouchard. I sure feel like it though,” he said.

“C’mon. Get over it!!! What do you want? Cary’s fine. Everything has been fine for years.”

“You think? Bouchard, you think it’s over. You think you’ve done your damage and everything is just great now?”

“Yes I do.”

“Yeah?” God help me, I hate this guy. “Have you returned any of her calls this week. Huh?”

He came closer to me with two slow steps. My back was against the oak. The fine point of the foil he held inches from my neck.

“You know Bouchard, I was a sportsman in college too,” he said.

He postured himself into, what I assumed to be, some kind of fencing stance…his free hand back and in the air.

“OK. I’m sorry. I’ll call her back. Just let me go. I have to?”

“You think it’s that easy? You don’t even realize what you’ve done,” he said.

“What have I done besides hurt and disappoint her?”

“You made her life very hard,” he said.

My knee started to hurt less, and I paid attention to my breath. I breathed slow, deep breaths in order to build strength to burst free. A squirrel ran across the street and disappeared in a shadow.
The Mayor flicked his wrist, and with a quick thrust he cut me on my forehead.

“Jesus Mayor, what the hell?”

“You don’t seem capable of ruining yourself Bouchard, so I’m going to do it for you. I’m going to ruin you. I’m going to change your life so bad. I’m going to make you wish that you never had met my daughter.”

“You can hurt me, fine. But you can’t make that happen.”

“You will, Bouchard…. You should have left this town. All of this could have been avoided then. Seeing you around has only fueled this anger I have, and now I can’t contain it. I should have protected her from you. Do you realize? You break her heart ever day, Bouchard.”

He whipped his hand and again cut my brow. Thank God I didn’t flinch. He could have pierced my eye.

“You’re gonna poke out my eye, Mayor. Now stop this,” I said.

“You think I care about you?… Even though I should, I don’t. I’m just going to handle it like you handle things. You hurt people, and you leave them to live a long time with the damage.” I hate him. I hate him so much.

“You can hate me all you want, but don’t think you’re just bringing to my attention now how much I hurt her. I know it. I can’t stop knowing it.”

His twisted face shone as the fog mixed with his sweat.

“You don’t know a goddamed thing, you damn asshole!” he said.

This time I could tell that he was about the strike me, so I made my burst, and threw my hand at the sword, trying to grab it. At the same time he lunged forward and screamed ‘Bastard.’
The blade pierced through my palm and stuck in the trunk of the tree behind me.

“Goddammit,” I screamed.

His face showed a little surprise, and a little regret, but the anger hadn’t gone. My hand was pinned against the tree, and black syrup slipped down my wrist. He pulled the sword out of the tree and my hand, and at that moment, before he could wield it again, I pounced on him and hit him with my other, uncut hand.

“You sonofabitch,” I said.

He dropped the sword and had trouble keeping his balance. I had hit him pretty hard.

“Go ahead Bouchard. Hurt me too.”

I believed that he would have certainly killed me then if he got the chance, so I put my hands around his neck and held him back.

I hate him. I hate him. I hate you. “You’re invincible Bouchard, you know, and I don’t understand why that is,” he whispered.

I squeezed a little and looked him right in the eye.

“No I’m not Mayor. I’m just a sacrifice to myself, that’s all.”

…..

Am I entertaining you, silent God?

…..

I let go of him. My blood covered the left side of his neck.

Before he could retrieve the sword I hit him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. He fell down, and clutched his stomach. I hate him.

“I’m sorry Mayor,” I said.

I ran away, down the street.

Everything was a squirm of a blur. Everything was fog. All the houses, all of their lights were just streaks in the fog. Everything was wet and cold. There was no time to think about what had just happened.
I ran as hard as I could. My forehead stung, my knee burned, and my hand throbbed. Blood flung from my wound as I swung my arms and ran. I rounded the bend in the road and came to the Little League field on my right, next to the road. Max stood in the middle of it. He stood in the outfield. He stood in a large patch of coarse snow. Around him the grass was black, and the snow under him was grey. He was looking up at the sky. He looked at the vanishing moon that gawked through a hole in the clouds.

I ran towards him and said nothing as I did so. I watched him, as he rested. He coughed.

When I reached him he took his eyes off the moon. He turned and we just stared at each other. Both of us breathed heavy, too heavy to talk, and Max thought the same as he had before.

Hell Hell Hell

“Max…why the hell are you running from me?”

“…” Hell Hell Hell

“I went to your house?”

“What? You didn’t go in though?” he said.

“Yes I did Max. I’m worried about you,” I said.

“You just walked into my house? Why would you do that?”

Max’s black shirt was wrinkled and blotched with paint. He even smelled bad.

“Max, tell me what’s going on. I think we’re having a similar problem,” I said.

“Yeah? You think?… I doubt it.” I’m doomed

“Just talk to me Max. Tell me why your house reeks. Explain to me why your entire house is covered in garbage?except, of course, for your bedroom.”

“Shut up Bear, OK…just…stop…. I can’t believe you just walked in.”

“But I did Max…Deal with it. Now tell me. Why is the word ‘Hell’ painted on your fridge? What’s going on with that painting in your attic?”

“You went into my studio too? I covered that painting up…what…you even pulled off the tarp? You break into my house? That’s fucked up.”

“What’s fucked up? Worrying about your friend, caring if you’re OK after everything I saw? Jesus, Max…you’re running from me. What’s that all about?”

“I wasn’t running from you.” I’m in Hell, I’m in turmoil.

“What’s tormenting you Max? Why is that phrase in your painting?”

My hand throbbed and I kept it clenched as a fist.

“What phrase?” he said.

“The one in the demon’s lips.”

“Holy shit, Bear…you saw that too. Dammit, you really did investigate the place.”

“Just tell me, please Max. You have to,” I said.

“The phrase? How do you know anything about that? Maybe you should leave Bear. Leave me alone.”

“I know that phrase. I knew it before I saw it in your painting, and I’ll tell you all about it…after you tell me what it is that’s making a mess out of you,” I said.

“I’m a mess? What about you? I saw your crazy rampage in Rusty’s. I hid in the back of the crowd so you wouldn’t see me. What the fuck was that all about? Nice speech?and now you tell me why you were talking to the waitress, and tell me why you are running after me?Jesus Bear, what happened to your hand. Shit, your head’s all cut up too,” he said.

“The Mayor came after me with a fencing sword. He stabbed me.”

“No…fucking…way. You’re kidding, right?” he said.

“Nope…C’mon Max. I’ll tell you all about it, I promise, but you first. I’ve been worried about you all day.”

“Why?”

“DAMMIT MAX, TELL ME, NOW. I’ll understand, OK. I swear. You have to tell me…where did you…How did you hear that phrase?”

“How? Jesus, Bear, relax. I guess you’re pretty screwed up right now…yelling at me. You want to know. Fine. I was on my way…it doesn’t matter where…. This morning I saw this college kid sitting on the bench on Main Street. He was saying it to himself. ‘A tornado is reflective reason, a tornado is reflective reason’ and I overheard him. That’s all,” he said.

“But why would you incorporate it into that painting. What’s going on dammit,” I said.

The pain from my cut, my knee, my forehead, my hand, pounded with each pulse of my heartbeat.

“It just made sense to me Bear.”

“Why Max?”

His thoughts gave no answers.

Hell Hell Hell

“BECAUSE I’M FUCKED, BEAR, ALL RIGHT!… I’m fucked. I can’t sleep…I can’t even go into my own bedroom. I can’t look at it.” His speech was quick and he talked short of breath. “I just can’t do this Bear, and all I’ve been doing for a couple weeks now is painting that…thing…my curse. Dammit, Bear. I can’t believe how bad I’ve screwed myself…and I can’t do the right thing, even though I know I should.”

“What’s the right thing Max?”

“It’s only what I can’t do. I’m not ready…and I definitely don’t want to be. Goddammit. I’m all set up now. Finally, my work is selling. I’m supposed to travel in the summer, get out of this trap of a valley. I got invited to show my work in Rome. My whole plan is happening now…and I screwed it. I got a little nostalgic…or lonely, or maybe I felt a little proud of myself for making it. So maybe I wanted a little reward. It was so easy, Bear….shit…and…my bedroom…shit, and then I hear that kid’s phrase and I can’t tell you how much it made sense to me. Everything you’ve done, everything you can’t get back, it destroys you because you can never change it. It’s unpredictable, just how much damage the past can do. And that’s what happened, I did it to myself. I destroyed my life and I can’t change it. I can’t get it back, unless…and this is what I got figured out from that phrase…. Shit, man, you can ignore the past, never think about it, or reason it. You just keep going forward, never concerned about what you’ve done. You just concern yourself with what you’re gonna do. Spontaneous living…and that’s a perfectly legitimate way to live. Why give a shit about responsibility? Not in the year two thousand they don’t. Do you think anybody cares about what happened in the past. No way. The past is nostalgia, but its edicts aren’t holding water anymore. Right now it’s all about moving forward. There’s always more to do, more to build, and more reasons for us to blow off the past. I’m not gonna pay attention to what happened. From my standpoint the past never happened, it was just a dream and who really cares what the symbols mean anyway. Nothing ever happened, believe that and you dodge the storm. That’s it Bear. Happy living, ignorance is bliss…and knowledge is torture.” Hell
“What did you do Max? Are you talking about something specific? Max?”

“Max!” a different voice screamed. It came from the road alongside the field. “Maximillian Earl Sandman?”

The figure, a man’s shadow, a darkness ran onto the field. He raced towards us.

“Yeah?” Max hollered to the man.

The shadow was closer. He carried a bag by the strap, in his hand. I recognized him.

“Max, we have to get out of here…now,” I said.

His khakis were soiled with mud, his loafers covered in it. His striped tie was loose and it hung on the outside of his sweater. His hair stood up and out in every direction, and it shone with the oil and fog that had wet it. His face cowered and his eyes were wrath. It was the old man, the murderer I was looking for, and his thought was the same as before.

Gonna kill him.

Before we could run he pulled a sawed-off shotgun out of his white, dirty tennis bag and thrust it in Max’s face. I froze. My hand itched with sharp pain.

The man yelled.

“You are Maximillian Earl Sandman, right…artist, resident of seventy-four Pine Nut Terrace, State University at New Guernsey graduate, most recent contributor to the Guggenheim Museum, Right!?…Nice job Max.” Little punk.

Max did not move. The gun was pressed right into the skin of his forehead.

“Answer me!” the old man yelled. I got him now.

“Yes,” said Max. His voice was a barely heard whisper. He swallowed.

“How old are you Max,” the old man said. “And I won’t ask twice, OK”

I just waited for something to happen, some kind of whatever, some kind of power to stop this.

“Twenty-eight…listen, you can have anything you want, just…” Oh God.

“Twenty-eight, that’s right” The old man spoke through a locked jaw and a clenched bite. “So you’re a twenty-eight year old man who goes around fucking girls eight years younger than you. And not just any girl…my girl, my little girl, my Mary.” Am I really going to do this? I think I am. God help me.

Max was silent. I knew everything. The man continued.

“You miserable bastard. You ruined her life. She can’t be young anymore. She was doing well, and you…and now…now she’s got to move home, quit school AND YOU WON’T EVEN HELP HER. You miserable?how do you feel now? Still feel like you can ignore what you’ve done? Does it feel good to know how quick your life can come to an end? Because that’s what’s about to happen to you. I am going to kill you.” Am I really? am I? I want to, I hate him.

I was afraid, and I tried to breathe slow, deep breaths, to build energy. I had to make a burst.
The man still spoke.

“I really want to know what it’s like to be you, Max. I want those balls of yours so I can stand here and destroy a life just like you did. I don’t want to feel anything, I don’t want to regret this. Just like you I want to walk away and forget about it…. You slimy, child mol?She doesn’t even have a mother of her own to help her. I have to keep working in order to feed them. I have to postpone my retirement, and what?… You…the coward. You gonna run away, paint your little tornado pictures, pick up some more young women? No way young man, you’ll never do anything again,” he said.

“I’ve seen you before,” Max said. Please God, I’m sorry.

…..

I think that I will never die if today doesn’t kill me.

…..

“Yes, but you don’t know me. I know you, Max. I know you don’t care about the world. All you artists do is whine and make people feel bad. You want to create the world for yourself, live by your rules. But those aren’t rules, they’re not the real rules. You can’t make anything original at all if you forget the things that should be preserved. There are rules Max!”

I was going to strike.

“There are rules that you can’t ignore. Fuck!… You don’t destroy people, ‘cause if you do…it’ll come back…and get you!”

Help me Oh G? …………………………

…………………..oh God oh God I did it

…..

A speech can be only slides, only images.

…..

All I saw were sparks. My ears rang, clanged vicious. I felt the wet slowly pour down my face. There was a salty taste in my mouth. My ears, my ears pound and pound and hurt. My sweater, my coat was dark and wet and I stood in a cage of fog with the murderer. Max’s body fell in its back…and his head was strained across the snow. Half of it covered the murderer’s face…and my face too. From the stem of Max’s neck a black puddle grew into pool in the snow, and as I watched that, his blood melt the snow, I froze with terror. I was jailed by my ringing ears, by the pierce that ran me through. It split me, its howl stabbed me. Shock, like a barge, harbored huge in my eyes. It was shock that hurt the most. The sight of Max’s body caused a current of pain that added hot pressure and fever to my head, and together it throbbed and ached as it stretched. The taste, the taste of my friend’s blood, and the warmth it covered my face with…it was a wet warmth on my clenched face. I was nothing but a reaction. I was only pain and sorrow and shock and deaf.

…..

I don’t know anything.

…..

The air smelled like fog and gunpowder.

I felt a slight pinch on the back of my neck.

The old man turned and fixed his placid eyes on mine and he quivered as he stared. He was calm, but he also looked afraid. The hairs on his forearm stood up and glistened in the dew that floated and engulfed us. He had so much blood on his face, and panic seemed to creep over his expression, showed through his eyes as they turned from calm and narrow, to scared and wide. He stood, and held the gun, slowly lowering it.

It was so cheap, how such a small finger movement could cause so violent an explosion. He knew it too. It didn’t satisfy him, I could tell by how he shook his head. He could never have caused so much damage, shattered a man’s skull. It took a diseased parasite that had levers for fangs only one bite, one squeeze and BOOM. But I only could wonder if he was going to command the gun to bite me too.
I stared back at the man, and I was just as scared as he was. I wanted to scream at him, curse him, but my voice was too paralyzed to work. I wanted to tear him apart, but my body was deaf to my commands. I could only wonder if I was next. I waited to see if my story was really ending. Would I be found next to Max, bleeding, dead, a body without a man…only mulch? I tried to hear the thoughts of the old man murderer, perhaps to see ahead of time what fate he would give me. He was now the author, he was the pensmith. He decided if I lived or died, because he had a gun. But I couldn’t hear his thoughts. I heard nothing, only the sharp ringing and the clang and dull pain in my ears. The bells hurt deep in the core of me, and boiled as they left me. I stood and waited for the man to act. I bore the painful throb of each wave of silence.

The blood soaked the snow, and all I could do was wince at the scene…and be deaf to the thoughts of man. I couldn’t hear him. The gift was gone.

The old man murderer still stared at me. He looked both angry and about to cry. He winced and shut one eye, then he took a deep breath, and spoke to me.

“Who are you? I don’t remember you,” he said, and he turned, placed the gun back in the tennis bag, and ran, almost galloping from the scene. He disappeared into the fog.

My wristwatch chimed midnight. If you don’t look it won’t hurt. It was black, and the fog appeared to embrace shadows that shuffled around me. If you don’t look it won’t hurt. We’re the monsters gone? What’s that noise? No noise. They hide back there behind the fog. They’re watching, waiting, watching and stalking me. You win, I’m afraid. Did you see his head fly apart? What? Did you like it? His face, how wide his eyes got before they were gone. If you don’t look it won’t hurt. Do you care, hiding behind the fog, watching carefully, still looking at me, saying nothing except a few grunts and sighs? Look at Max, the fog can’t cover him, I’m too close. Did you see him die? He’s all over me, he’s on my face, and the mountains can’t even see because they’re too far away. I didn’t see any color though. Only these squirming shades of grey, only this mess. There was hardly any cold air. There was only sight, dim, obscured sight. If you don’t look it won’t hurt?

“Mr. Bouchard?” yelled a boy.

Irwin was on the road, and he ran towards me.

“Irwin, NO! Stay there!”

“I heard a? Oh my God.”

“Irwin, No, get out of here. Please. It isn’t real, I swear, I’ll try to fix it. Just run go play and forget about this, please…Irwin…you’re fine…this is fake, like a movie…. Don’t…I mean RUN. You can’t see this! Don’t look, it will ruin you. UNDERSTAND.” I screamed my voice away until my throat hurt as much as my head, hand and heart. “Irwin, this isn’t for you, it’s my…my fault. You don’t need this so don’t look. Don’t know this. They’re thinking awful things, but you aren’t like them. Make it good Irwin. I’m the only one to see this. Tattoo, Irwin, good things. Just run, the monsters are catching their breaths, and while that happens you should run, so they don’t hurt you…they won’t be able to reach you. They want me Irwin, they want me to see this, they want to torture me…and that’s because I won’t let them have you. They don’t mix, the pretty things in all this fog.”

He was frozen, and swallowed hard.

I lunged at him, trying to chase him away.

“JUST RUN IRWIN…I might be wrong.”

Instead of running away, he stepped towards me.

“I saw you run by,” he said.

“No, Irwin.”

I grabbed him by his shoulders. He saw the blood on my face. He saw the inhuman glow in my eyes. I threw him backwards.

“Irwin, just run. You don’t know. Stay dumb to this Irwin. Go and play music, give us nice things. I want to smile Irwin. Help me. Go make something that can help me, go make something more honest than this. This fog, it’s a lie. If beauty is truth than evil is a lie. Go. Songs Irwin, happy beautiful, please. Run now! Write them!”

He ran away fast, like a gazelle being chased by lion. He didn’t look back. He only looked towards the direction he ran. He tripped once in the snow, and fell. He pushed himself up faster than he had run, harder, like if he’d stayed on the ground more than a second he would have been devoured. He ran again, and disappeared in the fog.

“NO. Not there,” I screamed.

I paced circles around Max’s body. I felt a quake about to rupture me. I looked at the blood, the black, his position, the way his knees had bent back and how his hands were clenched in the snow. I was so scattered that I almost was skipping around his body, in circles like a moth around a candle. I bent down and picked up handfuls of snow. I rubbed both my hands in it, cleaning them. Black drops fell off my hands. Clean them. I was covered in the old man’s wretch, the mess he left me with. I picked up more snow and rubbed it all over my body. I stood up. I ran, I dove face down in the snow. The snow felt coarse and I ignored the simple pain as it chafed me. I stood up. Still black, still dead. Another figure came from the street. It was the cop I had seen earlier that day.

“Here he is,” I screamed. “I know you’re dressed in blue, but I can’t tell with all this black fog.

He came closer.

…..

Will I die slow and alone or fast and in a crowd?

…..

“Oh my?Did you see who did this?” he said.

Right then he noticed the blood that was smeared all over my face, a little diluted from the snow that melted on it. “Are you armed? Get your hands up.” He drew his gun.

“I saw. Remember, you saw too. So what’s this infraction called, 507, 620, 469, 2. What is it? You know them all. C’mon.” I held my hands out in front of me. “Look, where’s his head? It’s on my face. But you know that, don’t you? Look at him. He didn’t always look like that.”

“Alright, you can put you’re hands down. Just don’t move, OK. There’s backup on the way. I see that you’re unarmed, and there doesn’t appear to a weapon around you. Tell me. Just calm down…and tell me what happened,” he said.

“What happened? His head exploded all by itself, and you couldn’t prevent it, none of you could. How do you like the law? Do you know it? Because you couldn’t stop it from being broken?Fuck You, You can’t stop anything, nothing? You failed. You knew, you saw him. He was angry. Max screwed his daughter. Shit, he screwed her over, and he was mad. You know who I mean. I tackled him today. I’m sorry?wait. I’m wrong. You don’t know anything, not until it’s happed like this. C’mon cop. Did you break up a fight today, stop a speeder? Great! You guys are fucking great in this town. Small town, and the one time that there will probably ever be a murder here you miss it. Do you see all this fog? Doesn’t it make you think that a few drunk kids are only going to hurt themselves, but the crazy people, the ones that can’t get over how much hate they have. The crazy people make plans to hurt, they decide ahead of time that they’re going to cause pain. That’s fucking crazy. And I’m not crazy. I don’t think I am. Are there more conditions? Look at him. He was great. He painted some cool pictures, and people were starting to see them. Do you know this? What do you know? How many tickets did you write today? How much money did you make for the Mayor? He doesn’t like me. Look at my hand.”

“OK, enough. Just clam down now,” he said.

He couldn’t stop staring at the corpse.

“It’s a shame, isn’t it? New Guernsey’s finest. It’s not your fault? You sure scare the drivers into slowing down on Main Street…What?… Yes… and you’re damn good at chasing the skateboarders out of my lot…Oh, you understand? Doing your job? But you missed this? You’re a goddamned public servant?I know you try. But…sorry, you screwed up. The public could sure have done without this…What?… Is this America’s fault? No fucking way. This is the greatest country in the world…Yes, you’re right. Because of its principles…I know this goes deeper than government. This…murder…it’s stupid, It hurts. Yup. Stupidity and pain. Sure…You want some symbolism, cop? Look, when the smart people die, everything inside their heads go with them. It’s just a body now, all you see is a body. What?…Do you want me to tell you about him? I will? Somebody should?” I said.

He stepped closer to me.

“Don’t lose it now, man. Hold it together,” he said.

I felt cold and weak.

“Oh God. You should have found him, not me. You should have seen this. You want to devote your laws to life, fine, you be there when they’re broken.. Ubiquitous, right? Long fucking arms in a small town and right now when they should be dirty….your hands are clean. Where were you? Making friends with the bouncers. YOU DON’T KNOW EVIL, DO YOU? You know law, and law is good, but look at that evil right in front of you. Good lost. My friend is dead. WHERE WERE YOU? Why didn’t you see? Fuck…WHY DIDN’T I TELL YOU! What was I saving you from? Why am I judging you, and why did I judge you unable to hear the truth. I heard his thoughts, that’s why I tackled him. He thought about murder. And I didn’t tell you because I heard you too…and you didn’t care. Dammit, I’m an idiot. I’m not special. You could just as easily had the gift. We’re the same. LOOK AT US. We’re both appalled right now. But I have a much heavier memory to carry now. I have to die with this. I’ll never let it go. Where are you? What are you thinking? What does it mean that you can come out of the fog with a gun if you’re only going to go right back into it? God damn you!”

The cop stepped in real close and raised his arm as if to grab me. I twitched, and without thinking, only feeling every muscle in my arm and back tense up I launched a right hook that landed on and seemed to go straight through his temple. He fell, and he did not move.

I stood over him, and I watched the slow movement of his breath. Max was still inanimate. I sat down in the snow, and covered my face with my hands.

…..

“I can’t believe you got us lost, Max”

We were tightly packed in a cave we had found, and the forest was only a shadow outside of the cave.

“There’s no use harping on that now…besides…this is kind of a cool adventure to have before graduation,” he said.

“I knew it.”

“You knew what?” he said.

“You did this on purpose. You planned to get us lost.”

“When have you ever known me to plan anything.”

“Bullshit, Max. You knew this would happen.”

“Listen…I always stray from the trails up here. It’s more fun. Eventually I find another trail and follow it out, but…it got dark…. We could go back out there if you want…I just don’t think we’d find a trail in the dark. Do you?” he said.

“No.”

“So relax. We’ve got shelter, there’s a few apples in your bag, and it’s not cold. All we got to do is hang out until morning. It’s pretty simple Bear, and there’s nothing to worry about.”

“This cave’s probably full of bats, spiders, and who knows what else,” I said.

“Jesus Bear, it’s not like were in the rainforest or the outback or anything. Even if there is, they’re not gonna kill you. The only thing a bat or a spider wants right now is a bug…not a boxer.”

“Funny, Max,” I said.

“Yeah…now the Copperheads…those’ll get you.”

“Enough.”

We sat, not talking for a while. We looked at the shadows of trees from out of the opening of the cave. Max held a flashlight in his hand.

“You know…these batteries aren’t going to last all night,” he said.

“Great. I’m really interested in hearing about that.”

“…I know Bear, even though you never talk about it,” he said.

“You know what?”

“That you’re afraid of the dark.”

“I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“Really?” he said.

Max turned off the flashlight.

“Max?” I said.

Max wouldn’t say anything. We just sat there in the dark. The trees rustled, and it sounded like something was walking around outside of the cave.

“Alright Max, that’s enough.”

Still no response, and shuffling outside.

“Max, turn the fucking flashlight on, OK.”

He turned it on.

“See,” he said, “I was right.”

“Fine. You’re right, I don’t like the dark.”

“Don’t like it?”

“Yeah.”

“Bullshit, you’re afraid of it,” he said.

“No man, it’s…. It’s not the dark that I’m afraid of,” I said.

“What then?”

“…It’s…what’s in the dark that scares me.”

“And what’s in the dark?” he said.

“I don’t know…. That’s the problem.”

“What are you talking about?”

I looked around the cave. I hated it, the wet rock and the pine needles I sat on.

“…I’ll tell you…but only if you promise never to mention it again.”

“Of course. I promise. It’ll stay in the cave, OK,” he said.

“…It’s like…I can’t handle not knowing what’s going on around me, not being able to see everything. I can’t handle the sounds…in the dark. My imagination goes wild with them. I hear footsteps, heavy breathing…voices. Sometimes I can even feel things…I can’t explain ’em…and it really freaks me out…. It might sound like I believe that demons and monsters and spirits come after me when the lights go out…but that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“C’mon man?”

“Listen to me. You want me to tell you this?”

“Yeah, but?”

“Then listen,” I said.

“Alright man.”

“…When I was younger, I’d have these dreams…At least now I think they were dreams, but then…they happened every night. I’d turn off the light and get into bed. At first, I’d just start staring at the different shadows in the room. The black shapes. Eventually I’d hear some kind of noise, like a footstep or a breath. I’d get real scared and I’d pull the blanket up over my head, and when I did that the sounds would get louder, and they’d get closer to my bed. They’d sound like whispers, garbled whispers, and then it sounded like these voices were walking around my room, getting closer to me. And then I could tell that whatever it was that was making the noise was standing right beside my bed. It was then that I’d become paralyzed, literally. I’d try to move, my hands, head, even sit up, but I couldn’t. I’d even try to scream, but nothing would come out of my voice. And then…I’d feel my blankets…being tugged on. I mean it. Something was pulling on my blankets, and the only thing that kept them from being pulled off were my hands, over my head, frozen in a solid grasp…and it would go on, until it stopped. Until the next night, when it happened all over again… I even had names for the different monsters. There was Gremlin, and he grunted a lot, and Witch…I could see her shadow coming…. Sometimes there were two, pulling at different parts of the blanket. As I got older, it stopped, but even now…every once in a while, it’ll happen, only…I don’t cover my head anymore. So when it happens now…I actually see the shadow of what’s standing next to my bed. It’s fucking scary Max…and…so that’s why I don’t like the dark. It’s…where the…where the demons are.”

Max was quiet for a while. He looked a little scared himself.

“Wow Bear…. You think you have a demon?”

“I don’t know, but as a kid I did.”

“You know, in Kabala, there are ways of finding out if you have a demon.”

“How’s that?”

“You pour sand around your bed.”

“And what does that do, get ‘em dirty?” I said.

“No. But if you wake up in the morning and find the sand stamped with chicken feet?”

“C’mon, you’re fucking with me.”

“No, I mean…not chicken feet exactly, but footprints that look like a chicken’s. That means that you do have a demon, and then you have to exorcise it.”

“Are you serious?”

“Jewish mysticism is pretty wild Bear,” he said.

“Maybe I’ll do that.”

“You should.”

“That’s it then…No more. Now you know…. Only you and Cary know,” I said

“Really.”

“Yup…and that’s it,” I said.

Max turned off the flashlight again. He sat very still and silent.

“Max, that’s not very nice. Turn the fucking thing on.”

He turned it back on.

We sat quietly for some more time. Once again we both looked outside of the cave to the person-like shadows of the rustling trees.

“Did you figure out your plan yet,” I said.

“Yeah, I think I got it figured out.”

“So?”

“Well, my parents are giving me a pretty big chunk of money for graduation…and I’ve seen this place, this old Victorian house in town…man, you have to see it. It’s gorgeous. The house is split, one apartment upstairs, one apartment downstairs. The upstairs apartment is vacant, and I’m gonna buy it. It’s perfect. One bedroom, living room, bathroom, kitchen.”

“Sound’s pretty nice,” I said.

“Yeah, but check it out?the attic is huge, the size of the whole roof. Man, it’ll make a perfect studio,” he said.

“So you’ve decided to stay in town after all.”

“Why not? I like it here. The way I figure, I’ll do a lot of painting, try to hang my work in some of these local places, maybe someone important will see them, hook me up with a gallery show in New York, and I’ll be a happy man.

“What about money?”

“I’ll find some work. I’ll bartend, landscape or something. It doesn’t matter as long as I keep painting in my spare time.”

“Well I guess you finally made a plan,” I said.

“Weird, I know.”

“Don’t worry, you can still be reckless.”

“I intend to, but now it’s your turn,” he said.

“My turn what?” I said.

“Your plan, let’s hear it.”

“I’m gonna do it,” I said.

“You should. You guys are great, inspiring even.”

“Yeah, she’s great. I love her, we’re happy together, we both want kids, why not?”

“Did you buy a ring.”

“Yeah. Damn thing wiped me out.”

“But you got it,” he said.

“It’s not much though. It’s not like the wine shop pays me that much, but it’s something,” I said.

“That’s awesome Bear.”

“Yeah, could be good,” I said.

“How you gonna propose?”

“I haven’t figured it out yet. I just want it to be different, not clichéd at all.”

“Any ideas?” he said.

“Yeah, but I’m not going to say.”

“Fair enough,” he said.

“I think I’m going to try to get an office job in the city. Cary wants to get a Master’s degree from Julliard, so I guess I’ll need to make some money in order to afford New York.”

“You really want to live in New York?” he said.

“You know…I don’t care where I live.”

“OK.”

“I’m sure I could survive,” I said.

“Man, this is crazy, sitting and talking about our plans and actually intending to follow though with them,” he said.

“Yeah this could be a first.”

“I wish we had a few forties to make a toast with,” he said.

“Well, good luck anyway Max.”

“Yeah, you too Benny.”

It once again became quiet between us. It was pure dark outside of the cave, and inside the light of the flashlight had become dimmer than before.

“Hey Max.”

“What?”

“Seeing as I’m telling you all my secrets in this cave, you want to hear one more?and this one Cary doesn’t even know.”

“Sure Bear.”

“But…we never talk about it again, OK.”

“I promise, man.,” he said.

“Alright…. You know that guy who died last week on Mountain Road,” I said.

“You mean the real fat guy that walked in front of the dump truck.”

“Yeah, that’s the one,” I said.

“I heard that he was just standing in the middle of the lane, waiting on the other side of a blind curve.”

“Yep.”

“Some say it was suicide. Others think he was just crossing at a very stupid place to cross. I think his name was?”

“Robert Joseph Leighton,” I said.

“Yeah. I heard that if a regular car had hit him the passengers would probably have died…seeing as he was so fat?I also heard that the dump truck got pretty fucked up, and it was pretty messy.”

“That was my father,” I said.

Silence. Trees rustled.

“What?” he said.

“He was my father,” I said.

“I thought you didn’t know your father.”

“I didn’t…but he approached me the Lexington.”

“At State?” he said.

“Yep.”

“Why would he pick that time to meet you?”

“He wanted me to lose…so he could win a bet,” I said.

“Bull…Shit.”

“I’m serious Max. He did, and I got real mad and knocked him down in front of everyone who waited to register.”

“Damn………..Are you sad?”

“No fucking way. I feel bad for the dump truck driver. I also heard it was quite a mess,” I said.

“Are you gonna tell your mother?”

“Nope.”

“So only you know,” he said.

“And you…and no one else…ever.”

“So…that’s why you’re giving it up.”

“It might be, but I’m not sure…. I’m just done with boxing,” I said.

“…I’m sorry,” he said.

“Why? Because I didn’t get to see it happen?”

“Yeah Bear…that’s why,” he said.

The flashlight now was barely lit.

“We’re losing it Bear. It’s time to turn it off,” he said.

“It’s inevitable.”

“You gonna be alright.”

“I guess we’ll see Max. Turn it off.”

He did, and the trees rustled and footsteps shuffled outside the cave.

…..

Red and blue lights seared through the fog. I heard and door slam, and a voice yell.

“Hey, get your hands in the air, now!”

I raised them, the blood covered, dirty hands, and stood up.

“Turn around,” said the officer. He stood far from me, his gun pointed at my chest. Another cop Walked towards me, got close, his gun pointed at my chest.

I turned around.

“Don’t move,” he said.

I couldn’t have if I wanted to. I was then facing Max.

“Sorry about your friend,” I said, “Are you sorry about mine….Oh, you don’t need cuffs. The freak won’t cause any more trouble, I swear. Look, only my friend is dead. I knocked yours out because he failed and, trust me, failure hurts. I don’t fail all the time, I never lost. I was undefeated. I just keep going. Simple goals, simple life says the freak. You know me, you’ve seen me. You know I’m Bear. I’ve sold you tomatoes, but I’m not as average as I look. I’m fucking gifted. Do you want to know what I’m thinking? I could have told you what you were thinking once. But…C’mon…ask me what I’m thinking.”

“I don’t care right now,” he said.

He grabbed one of my arms and pulled it behind my back, then he took the other one and did the same. He cuffed them so I could no longer see how dirty they were. The other cop put away his gun. Both of them walked me towards the spinning lights on their squad car.

“C’mon…you want to know. Did I do it? Did I kill him? You don’t know. You just got here…. Well I didn’t. Nope. That’s what I’m thinking. No, No, No, No, No. Say it with me. No, No, No. C’mon, you need this, or else you’ll think it’s OK, what you’re thinking and all. That I’m crazy. I’m not. I’m just a freak…I might even be a demon. Tell me, do you think I’ve enjoyed any of this? That I’m happy. No, No, No, No. You misunderstand me? You don’t understand me, do you?”

One cop opened the door.

“I’m impossible to understand. Know why? Huh? It’s because all I’m thinking is No, No, No, No, No, No, No.”

I hardly moved any other muscles than the ones that drove my jaw and the ones that bulged my eyes.

The other cop pushed down on my head and guided me into the back seat. I rolled on the vinyl and sat up straight………and I took several deep breaths.

…..

I am alive now. I will be dead soon.

…..

I sat back there for a while and other red and blue lights arrived outside. I just watched and breathed. I took the time to become a man again, to get my composure back, to act civilized and not like a madman. I was in a bit of trouble, even though I wasn’t the murderer, I had certainly caused a bit of mayhem. The craziness, the pain, and the grief stayed in my silent head, locked behind my thick skull.
I watched everything that was happening outside. The cop I had knocked out was now on his feet. He stood with the other cops and told them his story, told them everything I had done, and nothing of what I said. Then they all turned to look at Max’s body. None of them could take it, they turned back around. They all cringed, and one cop threw up. They spoke again to each other. They all knew that I had not killed Max. They all knew that he was my friend. Also, every cop except for the one who had showed up first knew about my freak out at Rusty’s. They knew I was in a lot of trouble. I had assaulted a police officer, and I had assaulted a boy in the bar. I was definitely going to have to deal with that. But they weren’t unkind. They felt for me, knew the grief I must have been experiencing, to have witnessed such a gruesome murder. Above the eyebrow of the cop I had punched there was a swelling the size of a lemon. It looked like it could pop.

….

I think my gift is death, a present from the reaper. I’ll most likely die soon. I wasn’t fit for this power…. I just hope the eclipse is the last thing I see.

…..

Another cop ran from his car to the officers that all stood together. I couldn’t quite hear what he said because his back was to me as I sat in the caged backseat.
Mourning and loss, but I felt normal and not insane. I could hardly feel my body, and all I wanted to do was either faint or fall asleep. Perhaps my dreams would be calm and not torturous and real like the scene I saw then while awake. But I knew that it couldn’t be. If I slept then I think my dreams would have pushed me over the edged and made a real psycho out of me. I had to sit there and exert great effort in order to feel what I felt and stay calm and normal. But that was a front, I was really still a freak, a solid, dense explosion that wanted to get out of my body. I was in Hell, and I was as calm as one can be in Hell.

…..

Why has everyone forgotten me?

…..

More police arrived, and an ambulance too. Other cars pulled up, and I assumed them to be local reporters. The door opened and a cop helped me out of the car.

“Turn around Mr. Bouchard,” he said.

I did, and he removed the handcuffs.

“Don’t go anywhere, OK. We’re not done with you. You are going to have to come with us in a little while.”

“Sure,” I said.

“Now, are you calm. Did you vent enough? I understand that this is hard, but be smart, and don’t make it any worse for yourself.”

I nodded.

He looked at me, and walked around me, checking for something, I don’t know.

“Hey,” he yelled to another officer, “Get one of the paramedics to come over here.” He turned back and spoke to me. “You’ve got a few bad cuts there, your forehead, your hand, the back of your neck.”

“What? My neck? He didn’t…I didn’t get cut on my neck,” I said.

The paramedic ran over. He was young.

“He’s got a few cuts on his head, his hand appears to have been pierced, and there’s a nick on the back of his neck,” the officer said to the paramedic.

“There’s no cut on my neck,” I said.

“Relax,” the officer said.

The paramedic walked behind me, and was quiet as he probed around the back of my neck.

“What is?Holy shit,” he said.

The cop looked as well.

“What is that?” he said.

“What? Am I really cut?” I said.

“Mr. Bouchard,” the paramedic said, “It looks like…a dog tick has been hooked to you. Did you know that?”

“What do you mean ‘did I know’. Yeah. I left it there…Just pull it off please…Is it still biting me?”

“It would have to be alive to bite you.”

“What?” I said.

“It’s dead.”