The Shadow King

by Lozar, D. C.

  Jacob tensed. He shoved his hand back into his backpack and pulled out the black thing I'd seen him take from under the gas station counter. I hadn’t been able to get a good look at it before, but now there was no question.

  “I can find someone else to read.” Jacob pointed the pistol at Alice. “Someone who knows better than to make fun of me.”

  Alice cringed. “I’ve got the book. You’ll never find it without me.”

  “Nice try. Flip has it,” snorted Jacob.

  “I stole if from him.” Alice sounded defiant, but her fingers trembled as she edged higher in the tree. “He stayed with me after you left, remember?”

  I could practically feel Mickey, Carli, and Skim thinking things over in the dark. They had been wrong about me. I hadn't been trying to save Alice. I had been planning on exchanging the first-aid kit for the book, and now they knew I'd been playing them.

  "You're bluffing, trying to buy more time."

  "Why would I do that? I don't need time. I have the book."

  "You're waiting for Mickey to come save you."

  "What are you talking about?"

  Jacob kept the weapon trained on Alice as he turned to face the darkness. "Stand up Mickey. I know you're out there."

  "You're crazy."

  "Stand up, or I'll shoot your girlfriend."

  None of us moved.

  “I know everything.” Jacob waited, listening to the mosquitos’ whine. When nothing happened, he shook his head and pointed the pistol at Alice’s belly. “Okay. I get it. The three musketeers think I’m guessing. You're testing me. No problem. One. Two. Thr--”

  “Put it down,” demanded Mickey from the darkness, “or I’ll flash you.”

  “Try it," taunted Jacob. "I’ll have the trigger pulled before the flash sets.”

  “He’s right,” said Carli, stepping out from behind a bush. “It won’t work in time.”

  “Smart girl. Now, I need all of you over here,” said Jacob. His finger tightened on the trigger. “Now!”

  Reluctantly, Mickey and Carli moved to stand next to Alice.

  “Skim.” Jacob’s voice was patronizing. “Don’t be shy.”

  Skim rose out of the mud like a swamp monster, his thick bulk tense with anger. He glared at Mickey as he moved to stand next to his friends. “You had him.”

  “I didn’t.”

  I held my breath and stayed where I was.

  “Frank is in charge of the garage. He's required to make video and audio recordings of everything that happens on the property." Jacob pointed the muzzle of the pistol at each of them in turn. He pantomimed pulling the trigger. “Show me your flashers.”

  Defeated, they held up their weapons. Mickey’s flash was the only one that still held a charge. Jacob’s back was to me. He knew about Alice’s team, had expected them to show up, but he thought I was cowering in my bed back at the garage.

  I had to keep my cool, play this out.

  I edged closer.

  “Toss them over.”

  Carli and Skim threw their empty flashers into the water at Jacob's feet.

  Mickey hesitated. "How did you get Frank to tell you about us?"

  I stood up slowly, quietly, a hundred yards behind Jacob and out of his line of sight. I locked eyes with Mickey. There was only one way out of this.

  "I dressed up as a cop, marched into his room and demanded -"

  Mickey threw the flash over Jacob’s head. I caught it, aimed.

  Jacob fired into Mickey’s chest.

  The pistol flash was blinding in the dark. My ears rang. White birds rose from nearby trees, fleeing the unfamiliar noise.

  Alice screamed.

  Jacob pointed the gun at her. “Shut up!”

  I fired at Jacob.

  The flash hit him square in the back, and he froze in place.

  Alice dropped from the tree with a splash and crawled through the goop to Mickey. She lifted his head, cradling it, and kissed him. “No. No. No. Come on. No.”

  The next thing I knew, I was standing over Mickey, ripping open his shirt, feeling around until I found the hole. It was on the right side of his chest, and every time he took a breath there was a terrible sucking sound. “Give me the kit!”

  Skim opened the first-aid kit and pulled out one of the cautery sticks. “It won’t get the bullet out.”

  “No, but it will stop the bleeding.”

  Skim tossed me the stick, and I jammed it into the wound. Smoke and the acrid smell of burning flesh stung my eyes and nose. Mickey gasped in pain.

  Four shadows broke off from the dozens circling our group. They smelled fresh blood.

  “Turn him over. Check his back,” ordered Carli. She scooped up the bloody mud nearest his body and threw it as far as she could. The contaminated muck clung to her skin, and hundreds of mosquitos attacked her arms, biting and sucking. Whimpering in agony, she jammed her hands into the swamp, drowning her assailants, and then repeated the process.

  It took time to get Mickey on his side. Alice held his head out of the water. I found the exit wound, and Skim gave me another stick. I stuck it into the hole. Mickey screamed. The bleeding stopped.

  A shadowy fog of mosquitos blotted out the moon. “We need to move him.”

  Skim helped me pull Mickey onto the trunk of a fallen tree while Carli helped Alice climb on top of a cement garbage can. I ran the final cautery stick over the gash in Alice’s leg, burning it shut.

  Then, as one, we turned to face Jacob.

  His eyes blazed with hatred from inside his paralyzed body. His right arm held the pistol, extended, aimed at the spot where Alice had been. His face was a mask of horrific vengeance, his lips curled back in a snarl, his nostrils flared. He would never forget tonight, never forgive us for stopping him.

  Carli knelt down and felt around in the mire until she found a heavy stone. She threw it and hit Jacob in the arm. "Asshole!"

  He didn’t flinch, but his eyes registered the pain.

  “He's only going to be like this for an hour more,” I said. "What do we do with him?"

  Alice threw her empty flasher at him. The sharpened end narrowly missed his eye and left a deep gash in his cheek. Blood oozed down his neck.

  A dozen ravenous mosquitos flew over to investigate.

  We watched as they ate.

  I won’t say which one of us came up with the idea. I guess it doesn’t matter because we all agreed to it. It was a good idea, one that felt right - that still feels right.

  So, we did it.

  Then, silent as ghosts, we got on with the business of getting home.

  Carli and Skim carried Mickey. I carried Alice, piggyback style. It was slow going, but we made it to the edge of the swamp near daybreak and climbed the embankment onto dry pavement. I don't think I've ever loved asphalt as much as that morning.

  Drained, we sat there and watched the swamp. It was beautiful in a way, a wasteland of hidden things that had been created in a time when my world was nothing more than science fiction. Half-a-dozen shadows skimmed over the murky water, their amorphous shapes searching for prey.

  Then, the sun rose. As its golden rays hit the shadows, they burst into harmless clusters of mosquitos, each working alone, free of the collective mind until nightfall.

  Alice sat with Mickey’s head in her lap. She looked at me. “Thank you for coming back.”

  “It’s not like he had a choice,” said Mickey weakly, his voice dripping with disappointment. “You took the book. He was coming back to get it from you.”

  Alice shook her head. “I didn't have it. Jacob was right. I was bluffing.”

  Carli glared at me. "Why were you really going into the swamp?"

  Before I could speak, Skim knocked me over and took my backpack.

  He and Carli unzipped the pockets and emptied it.

  "Listen, guys. I just want to be friends. I didn't --"

  The book fell out, bounced once, and then lay still.

  Alice winked at me. She had put it
back in my bag while I carried her.

  “Sorry, Flipper,” said Carli. She repacked my things, embarrassed.

  Skim tore open a box of Good & Plenty, poured it into his mouth, chewed, and spat it out. "If he's dumb enough to eat crap like that, he's okay with me."

  The gunshot echoed over the swamp.

  We turned to watch in silence as white birds rose like smoke from deep within the glade.

  Jacob’s empty two-liter bottle of water lay next to us.

  We'd stripped Jacob and washed him clean, as clean as the day he was born.

  My parents never understood how important it was for the punishment to fit the crime.

  Jacob hadn't understood that either.

  But, we did.