by K.L. Bauman
Kayde frantically tossed his clothes around the room in search of his wallet. Where could it have gone? He dug through the pockets of his coveralls, his coat, his jeans. It was nowhere to be found. He stood and stared out the window, trying to think when he’d last used it. His driver’s license was in his duffle bag, but all his money and his debit card were in the wallet. He must’ve lost in when he pulled out his cell from his coat yesterday. Fat chance of ever finding it now.
Water droplets covered the window. It was warming up at least. Maybe the roads would be clear soon; by tomorrow, at least. But if he couldn’t find his wallet, he couldn’t get gas and get out of this God-forsaken place.
Sighing, Kayde turned and made his way out of the room and down the stairs. His mind wandered to different combinations of notes—ones that would allow him to get Mrs. Kline, or anyone, to hand over some cash until he could find his wallet.
Stopping halfway down the stairs, took a deep breath and squeezed the wooden banister until his knuckles turned white. He couldn’t let that kind of music take over. The whole reason for this trip was to not use dark music. He closed his eyes and worked on calming down and blocking the dark notes threatening to overtake his mind.
After a moment, he relaxed enough to open his eyes, only to tense again. He caught the yell that almost burst from his throat.
“Oh, sorry dear. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Mrs. Kline said, looking up at him from the foot of the staircase. “I was just wondering if you would like to use up the gas that’s in my gas can in the garage. It’s been sitting awhile, but if you need it, I’d really appreciate you taking it. I don’t think I’ll ever get it used up otherwise.”
Was she serious? Kayde just stared at her, his mouth hanging open.
“Are you alright, dear,” she asked. Concern washed over her features as she took a step up.
Kayde quickly snapped out of his shock and made his way down toward her. As he came closer to her she smiled again. “I do have a condition,” she said, her cheeks reddening. “For payment for the gas, could you please fix the sink in the bathroom down here?” Her eyes were pleading now. “I’ve called and called the plumber, but he always has bigger projects that need his attention. It’s very simple; it’s just, I can’t get down under there anymore and take care of it myself.”
He was no plumber, but if she was willing to give him gas so he could leave, he’d agree to anything. He shrugged and answered, “Sure.”
Mrs. Kline clapped once, her face beaming. “Oh, that will be wonderful, just wonderful! Thank you dear. I’ll show you where the gas can is.”
After she donned a heavy coat, Kayde followed Mrs. Kline out to the garage. “Here we are!” she said as she reached under a work shelf on the opposite side of the garage from the house. She pulled out a large can of gas. Her two cats had followed them out, and were rubbing on Kayde’s legs, purring loud enough to wake the dead. They kept looking up at him, those creepy yellow eyes searching him.
“Oh! They like you, Kayde. They always know a good person when they see one! They always do!”
Well, one thing was certain, her cats were poor judges of character!
The gas was right for the Shadow, so he filled it up, made the excuse he wanted to warm it up a bit, and got on. Mrs. Kline waved happily as he left the garage.
Kayde sloshed his way through the town of Glenville on his Shadow, grumbling beneath his helmet as he went. He’d wanted to be far away from this place by now. But the sun was setting and he was still here. The bad mood was settling on him again. He was going to have to call his dad about his wallet later. That was enough to get send him into darker places.
Glenville was a speck of a town compared to Austin. He passed two grocery stores, one post office, a grade school with an enormous playground, and various small shops. A bridge carried him over a swelling river to the other side of town. The high school, a couple banks, fast food joints, churches. Nothing exciting.
Kayde turned down a residential street as the sun cast contrasting colors over the surface of the pale snow and through the clearing sky. The bike’s wheels sloshed through some brown slush, splashing Kayde’s boots and legs. Stupid snow. He’d definitely had his fill of it. He didn’t see what all the hype was. Maybe at Christmas, it’d be cool; but this was a mess.
A sweet breath of wind carried the purity of a clear sound to him, sliding gracefully toward him like a dove on a current. It was soft and gentle, but powerful enough to cut through the bike’s roaring engine and reach under his helmet. He brought the bike to an abrupt stop, his heart pounding. It’s that song again! He pulled the helmet off and killed the engine. Everything was eerily quiet for a moment before birds started singing their lungs out at him. He waited a minute or two, straining to hear what he thought he’d heard a moment ago over their noise. It wasn’t long before he was ready to shoot every bird within city limits.
Kayde shook his head. I was hearing things. He revved up the Shadow, replaced his helmet, and headed back to Mrs. Kline’s. Most of the way back, that strange foreboding followed him. This place was seriously messed up somehow, and he wanted nothing more to do with it.
Later, after dodging Mrs. Kline and her feline companions, Kayde made the dreaded phone call. Why did he have to lose his wallet? He didn’t want to call home. He’d asked for money too many times in the past when he’d blown all his on something stupid. This was going to be less than pleasant.
Pressing the speed dial on his cell phone (which at last had service), Kayde took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as the ringback tone on the other end sounded in his ear. Phantom of the Opera. His dad joked all the time that the Phantom was one of their long lost relatives. That was how he was able to seduce Christine with his music.
“Kayde! How are you, son?” his dad’s exuberant voice boomed in his ear, cutting the music off midstream.
“Good.” No reason to beat around the bush. Just get it over with. “Listen, Dad, I lost my wallet yesterday in a freak snow storm. Is there any way you could wire me some money tonight so I can get going in the morning?”
There was a big sigh and then a long, uncomfortable silence on the other end.
“No,” came the blunt reply.
Kayde’s stomach knotted and his ear tips felt hot. “I need the money, Dad. I’m not lying. I really did lose my wallet!” His voice was streaming out in an angry crescendo. But through his irritation, he realized how lame he sounded.
“Calm down, Kayde. I won’t wire you the money. But if you can stay put for a month and prove to me that you can earn money on your own, I’ll send you a new debit card. I’ll even put extra money in your account. Which, by the way, I better call the bank and let them know you lost your current card.”
Kayde tried to breathe slowly, hoping he’d calm enough to make the red clear from his vision. He couldn’t stay here a month! But his dad was the primary on his checking account—another reminder of past failures. He was also good friends with the entire banking staff, and they all knew Kayde’s history. If his dad called the bank and told them not to send him a card, they wouldn’t. Through gritted teeth, he spoke, “I can’t stay here.”
“Just give it a try--”
Cutting him off, Kayde shouted into his phone, “I can’t stay here! You don’t understand!” His voice took on a dark calm as he continued, “If you don’t send the money, I’ll just sing my way out of this place.”
Another sigh followed by silence. Kayde ran his free hand through his greasy hair. He realized he hadn’t showered for a few days. He scratched irritably at the stubble that had grown along his jaw.
“Look, Kayde. Your mom and I didn’t like the idea of you running off on your own. We care for you and we worry. But you left, we thought, with the intention of finding your own path, to get away from using your gift for the wrong purposes, to get free from the darker music. Well, here is your chance. Don’t be a slave to that temptation. Get
a job, work with your hands. Find your purpose.”
Anger, desperation, and hopelessness caught Kayde’s words in his throat. His dad just didn’t understand. No one did. No one could.
“Where are you? Mom wants to send you a care package when you get settled,” his dad stated with sudden, contrasting cheeriness.
So this battle was over. Just like that. Kayde knew singing would do nothing to help him now. His persuasions didn’t work on his family. Visions of singing to one of the bank tellers started playing in his mind. The banks were small here. They should be easy to rob—and none of them knew his history or were friends with his dad. The music in his mind starting playing a dark rhythm.
“Kayde?” his dad’s voice broke through his musings.
“Uh, I’m at a place called Glenville in eastern Montana.”
Another long silence followed, continuing long enough for Kayde to wonder if they’d lost the connection. “Dad? You still there?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here. I know the town. Your mother and I lived about seventy miles from there right after we were married.”
Silence again.
“Dad, you okay?” Kayde had a peculiar feeling that his dad was nervous about something. Could he read his mind? Did he sense what Kayde had been thinking moments ago?
“Yeah. I’m good. Call me in a couple days. Let me know how it’s going. And, Kayde, be careful out there.”
The conversation came to a close shortly after, leaving Kayde frustrated—and curious. What was up with his dad suddenly getting all weird? He thought about those strange feelings he’d had twice since coming to Glenville. Did his dad know something about this place that made him nervous?
Kayde shrugged it off and flopped back on the bed, placing his hands behind his head. He stared at the ceiling, his mind swarming with ideas of how to get away from Glenville by morning. He made up his mind to use his ability, just once more. Slowly, he drifted into a fitful sleep.