Lance Brody Omnibus

by Michael Robertson Jr

  Leah looked at Lance blankly. “You’re weird.”

  Then she smiled, and Lance smiled and pushed the door completely open and stepped in. “I know,” he said. “But you gotta admit it’s better than being boring.”

  Leah was wearing a baggy Westhaven sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. Her right foot was clad in a bright pink sock, her left foot encased in a cast, only the tips of her toes poking out the top. Lance sat gingerly on the bed, and they looked at each other for a silent moment. Then he leaned forward and kissed her forehead, then her lips. When their lips parted and he pulled away, Leah smiled up at him.

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said. “You have no idea. I’m so sorry.”

  She pushed him away and laughed and said, “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Tell me what the hell you were talking about on the phone! You think Bobby Strang is sleeping with his mother?”

  Lance took a deep breath and adjusted himself on the bed, pulling one leg up under him and facing Leah.

  Then he told her everything that had happened. From the moment he’d left the high school parking lot to the moment he’d escaped from Bobby Strang’s house and driven back to the motel. The whole story, no detail avoided—except one.

  Leah sat slack-jawed, shaking her head the more Lance talked. When he was finished, Leah was quiet for a minute, digesting his story. She shook her head and said, “Unbelievable. I just … they’ve always been so … so nice.”

  Lance said nothing. He’d long known that some of the purest of evil could hide behind the widest of grins.

  Then anger fumed from Leah’s face. “And all this time, he’s been lying! Lying to the police, lying to my family! He knows what happened to Samuel and he fucking lied about it!”

  Lance said nothing. He let her vent.

  “And the timing makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? The year the Strangs came into town was the same year the first boy went missing. Samuel.”

  Lance said nothing.

  Then Leah perked up. “Hey! None of what you told me explains how you know Bobby is having sex with his mother. He didn't … I mean, of course he didn’t come right out and say that, did he?”

  And here was the moment Lance had known was coming. He knew he couldn’t avoid it, and he didn’t want to. He was compelled to tell Leah, craved telling her, in fact. But unleashing the full truth of what he was, what he could do, onto somebody was something he was always apprehensive about. It was the final judgment, the last true test of whether the person sitting across from him would stand by his side or run away laughing, recommending Lance book a room in a nuthouse.

  He looked at Leah, and in her eyes he saw something. Was it curiosity, or was it trust? Was it compassion, or was it concern?

  “In order for me to tell you how I know,” he said, “I have to tell you everything. Everything about me and who I am. The best I can, anyway. You already know some of it, but there’s more.”

  She didn’t even hesitate. “Okay.”

  So Lance told her.

  32

  Lance had started with a recap of some of the things he’d already told her, earlier, on his first night in Westhaven. Then he worked his way up to the crazier stuff, like the visions he sometimes got—those snapshots of life—when he touched somebody. And of course—and he hesitated here, even though he knew of all the people he’d met in his life recently, Leah was the most likely to take it all in stride—his ability to communicate with the dead. He phrased it this way, “communicate with the dead,” because that was a lot easier to swallow than blurting out, “I see dead people.” Thanks to Shyamalan’s The Sixth Sense, Lance could never use that phrase without it being tainted.

  Leah had been quiet through all his explanation, never saying a word, just staring up at him with wide-eyed fascination and nodding from time to time as if she completely understood everything Lance was saying. It wasn’t until he got to the communicating with the dead part that she finally spoke up to ask a question. Lance couldn’t blame her.

  “Wait, what do you mean you can communicate with them? Like, you hold a séance or something? You can speak to them across dimensions, or … what?”

  Lance shook his head. “That’s movie stuff. Well, yeah, maybe some people do it that way. Who am I to say what’s phony and what’s not? But for me it’s a lot simpler. Sometimes they visit me in my dreams. Sometimes they whisper things to me in my head, show me things. But often…” He sighed. Here we go. “Often they just show up next to me and start talking. Though it’s never for very long, and usually not frequently. I think it takes a lot of … energy, I guess, to show themselves like that. Like I said, I can’t explain this stuff, but I’ve long since had to accept it.”

  “Since when?” Leah asked, and it was the simplest of questions she could have chosen, and Lance loved her for it.

  “Birth, basically.”

  Leah was quiet again for a while. Lance sat on the bed and took her hand in his and held it while she thought, secretly hoping to maybe pick up some of her wavelengths to see if she thought he was off his rocker, and she was contemplating the best way to tell him to get the heck out of her room. He picked up nothing. It never worked when he wanted it to.

  “Do you see bad things, too?” Leah asked.

  Lance’s stomach dropped.

  “You know,” Leah said, “if you can see dead people, can you see, like, demons or something?”

  Lance felt a chill up his spine as he remembered events from his past. “Yes,” he said, and that was all.

  Leah must have heard the coldness in his voice, or maybe she didn’t want any further verification that spirits of the damned walked among them, because she dropped the subject.

  With the summary of Lance’s gifts complete, he went on to explain the vision he’d had when he’d grabbed Bobby Strang’s head in the garage. Leah listened with a disgusted look on her face, shaking her head. “How …?” she started. “How is that even possible? Like … how can they even … oh God, that’s so gross!”

  Lance agreed. “It is gross. But I think it’s incredibly significant. Allison Strang has some sort of power, that’s for sure, and she’s got a hold on Bobby and Glenn Strang as well. She has to. Blackmail, maybe. Heck, maybe she’s basically raping her own son and using some sort of guilt trip, some threat of embarrassment and a destroyed reputation to force him to go along with everything that’s happening. Forcing him to help her.”

  “And Glenn?” Leah asked. “Why him?”

  Lance thought, then shook his head. “I’m not sure yet.”

  “The Eye of the Tiger” blasted from Lance’s pocket, and he jumped again and bumped Leah’s ankle with his elbow. “I’m so sorry!” he said, pulling the phone out.

  She laughed and said, “Please, between the cast and painkillers, I don’t feel a thing down there. When did you change your ringtone? Oh, wait, when did you get an iPhone?”

  Lance sat on the bed and looked at the screen, the music loop starting to repeat. The caller ID simply said UNKNOWN. Lance used his thumb to slide across the screen and answer the call, then put the speaker to his ear and said, “Hello?”

  There was a hiss of static from the other end, then silence. Lance pulled the phone away from his face and looked at the screen. The call had been ended.

  Then a terrible thought hit him. She (it) had to know by now that Lance had escaped Bobby, so she (it) would be hunting Lance down. And if they knew Lance had Bobby’s phone, then they could use it somehow to…

  “We have to go,” Lance said. “We have to go now.”

  Leah’s eyes lit up with worry. “Why, what’s wrong?”

  “This is Bobby’s phone, and just now, that call … I think something’s going to come for us.”

  Leah slid her legs over the side of the bed, sitting up. “I don’t have a car. I ride my bike everywhere.”

  “Crap!” Lance said. “Any ideas?”

  Leah looked down at the carpet for a second, thinking, then back up to Lance. “
Yeah, I do have one, actually. But you’re going to have to trust me.”

  “Of course I trust you,” he said.

  “I can call Daddy.”

  “Oh.”

  33

  Leah used her cell phone and made the call. Lance listened, half-worried and half-curious as to how she’d play it. She kept things simple and to the point.

  “I’ve changed my mind, Daddy. Can you come pick me up?” A beat, then, “Thanks, Daddy. I’m sorry I didn’t just go with you from the hospital. I … I thought I’d be okay on my own.” Leah listened to her father’s closing remarks and then ended the call. “He’s on his way. Five minutes, probably. He was in town.”

  “Should we go wait in the office? I suspect he’ll attempt some sort of bodily harm to me if he catches me in your bedroom.”

  “Yes, he would,” Leah said. “But no, you stay here.”

  “Makes sense,” Lance said.

  They were quiet then, Leah hopping over to the pair of crutches leaning against the wall by her bed. Lance helped her get situated on them, and then she made her way to the bedroom door, opened it a crack and stood by, waiting. Lance studied her, the way she was trying to act too casual. She was mulling something over, and though he didn’t know exactly what, he assumed it was about him.

  “Something on your mind?”

  She turned and looked at him, met his eyes and held his gaze. “You’ve seen more in Westhaven than you’re telling me, haven’t you?”

  Lance knew he could no longer withhold the truth from her. He’d told her too much already.

  “Yes.”

  “You know what happened to the boys, don’t you?”

  Lance shook his head. “No, I don’t know what happened to them. Not exactly.”

  “But … you know,” her voice broke and Lance saw fresh tears well up in her eyes. “You know they’re dead, don’t you?”

  Lance hated what he had to say. “Yes.”

  “Have you seen them? Have you seen the dead boys?”

  “Yes. A couple, but not all.” He’d spare her the details of the burned boy from the diner.

  She inhaled deeply, braced herself and asked, “Have you seen Samuel?”

  It broke Lance’s heart. “Yes,” he said. “I’ve seen your brother. Twice. I’m so, so sorry, Leah.”

  She closed her eyes, and Lance wanted to go to her, wrap his arms around her and hold her tight. But something held him back. Something told him she needed her moment. Leah took two more deep breaths, and when she opened her eyes they were clearer, almost relieved, the tears drying. She nodded.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “It’s okay. At least now I know the truth. No more wondering. No more worrying.” She laughed, and the noise seemed so foreign. “Is it weird to feel so happy to know your own brother is dead?”

  Lance said nothing.

  Leah stayed quiet for another minute, and then she looked at Lance once more and asked, with a voice just above a whisper, “Lance, are you some sort of angel?”

  The question floored him, caught him completely off guard. Never had this idea been proposed to him, and never had he thought of it himself. It was preposterous, but now was not the time to say so.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m pretty sure I’m not an angel. I’m just a normal guy, who occasionally gets a hunch and hangs out with ghosts. No big deal.”

  Leah laughed, wiping the last remnants of tears from her cheeks. She smiled at him, and he was about to go across the room and kiss her when they both heard the low rumble of a muffler, getting louder and louder with each passing second.

  At the sound of the truck, Lance suddenly became very uneasy. He trusted Leah had a plan, but being confined to the bedroom, if her father came in and ignored Leah’s attempts at palaver, Lance would have nowhere to run and would likely stand little chance in a brawl with the man.

  The hum of muffler and roar of motor continued to crescendo and then reached its peak, stationary outside the motel’s walls. Then the noise died and there was the slam of a car door. Some heavy footfalls on the asphalt and then the sidewalk. Then the office door rattled with force but did not open.

  “Shit,” Leah said. “I forgot to unlock the door.”

  A fist pounded on the door hard enough to rattle the glasses atop the entertainment center. “Leah! Leah, are you okay!”

  Lance heard the panic in the man’s voice. This wasn’t starting off well.

  Leah was moving then, making her way across the office as quickly as she could on her crutches. Lance stayed put in the bedroom and tried to figure out where to wait. He chose to lean against the dresser along the far wall, mainly because it put him as far away as possible from the bed, which was the last place he wanted to be caught by a father of a girl he’d gotten involved with.

  Lance heard the deadbolt slide and then the door open. “I’m fine, Daddy. It’s okay, I promise.”

  Samuel Senior didn’t answer right away, and Lance imagined him standing in the doorway, the man’s thick neck practically creaking with muscles as he scanned the office and looked for threats, searched for something wrong. Finally, the man spoke cheerfully.

  “You ready to go, sweetie? Don’t you want to bring a bag, or something? You don’t have much at the house anymore. It’s been a while since—”

  “Daddy, I need to tell you something. I need your help, but you have to promise me you can stay calm, and promise me you’ll believe me and not lose your temper.”

  There were a few seconds of silence between them before the man said, “What’s going on, Leah? What’s this all about?”

  Lance could tell the man had been almost expecting something like this to happen. A parent’s intuition was strong, no doubt about it.

  “You have to promise me, Daddy. I’m going to show you something and tell you some things, and whether you believe me, or trust me, or … or anything, you have to promise me, as my father, that you won’t yell and you won’t hurt anybody. Can you promise me that?”

  Lance silently thanked Leah for the bit about not hurting anybody.

  “Baby girl, you know I’ll do anything I can for you.”

  “Daddy, I’m serious! I don’t just want words, I want action. I have to know I can trust you on this!”

  Leah’s sudden outburst seemed to resonate with the man, because the next time he spoke, he was somber, quiet. “I promise, Leah. I haven’t even had anything to drink tonight.”

  “Okay,” Leah said. “Lock the door again and then follow me.”

  Lance heard the deadbolt slide again, followed by the unsteady rhythm of Leah’s crutches and her father’s heavy boots coming across the office floor and getting closer. Leah came into view in the bedroom doorway, and she moved forward, coming toward Lance. Her father, wide and tired-looking, filled the doorway and stopped. He saw Lance at once, and the sudden shift in his eyes made Lance very grateful Leah was standing between them.

  Samuel Senior was wearing the same outfit as earlier in the diner, and the hospital parking lot—the dark and worn blue jeans and white undershirt. Lance once again took notice of the labor-born muscles of the man’s arms and shoulders. One solid blow to the head from a fist connected to that torso and Lance would be down for the count.

  The rage in Samuel’s eyes flared and then, miraculously, softened to an exasperated, desperate pleading. He looked at Leah, his expression one of disappointment.

  “Leah, I want the truth, and I want it now. Who. Is. This. Guy? And your answer better be good, because from the timing of things, he’s the suspicious guy that’s been spotted all over town, and was seen with you at the football game, and he’s the one who crawled out of the fucking ambulance with you after you got hurt. And now, despite my best efforts, he’s still here, standing in my daughter’s bedroom—the last place on earth I’d ever want to see him.”

  Lance couldn’t disagree with that last part. At least he and Samuel Senior saw eye to eye about something.

  “So,” Leah’s d
addy continued, “What’s the explanation? Tell me why I shouldn’t kick his ass right now and then drag him to the sheriff’s office.” The man folded his arms across his broad chest and leaned against the door frame, putting his muscles on display.

  Lance said nothing.

  Leah said, “Remember your promise, Daddy.”

  Samuel Senior nodded, never taking his eyes off Lance. “If there’s no problem, there’s no problem.”

  It wasn’t much in the way of a philosophical mindset, but Lance figured he understood the man’s point. It was up to Leah now to convince her father that there was, in fact, no problem. At least in regard to Lance being alive and well and in their presence.

  “Daddy,” Leah started, “this is Lance. He’s a new friend of mine, and, well … he’s not like other people.”

  Samuel Senior had no comment.

  “He’s got special gifts, Daddy. He can hear things, and feel things, and see … things that other people can’t.”

  With still no sense of response from her father, Leah blurted, “He’s helping me figure out what happened to Samuel and the rest of the boys, Daddy! He’s here to help us! And now some things have happened and we need your help. I can explain more later, but right now we have to go. So please, please, can you take us in your truck? We’ll figure out where once we get on the road.”

  Leah stopped talking then, and Lance knew how frustrating it must be for her to try and squeeze so much information into a rush of a speech, trying to keep her daddy from boiling over and disregarding her. Lance knew his story didn’t make any sense and was near impossible to fully explain, even with unlimited time and with the most open-minded of listeners.

  Samuel Senior was quiet for a long time. So long that Lance thought maybe Leah had caused some sort of temporary shutdown in the man’s head, that of all the possible explanations Leah could have given her father as to why Lance was there, the honest truth was so far beyond comprehension that the man was shocked into silence.