Monsters

by David Alexander Robertson

  Lauren kicked him under the desk, a silent scolding for his comment.

  “Watch your mouth, kid,” Jerry snapped, starting to get out of his chair.

  Reynold put a hand across his chest, sat him back down. “Now, now, it’s okay, Jerry. Cole, I have faith in the people, simple as that. I have faith that they’ll make the right choice.”

  “Aren’t you a bit worried after the assembly, though—OW,” Cole stopped mid-sentence as Lauren kicked him again. Cole gave her an annoyed look, and she returned a concerned one.

  Reynold walked halfway to Lauren’s desk. “Remember, Cole, the kids aren’t voting.”

  “Not yet,” Cole grumbled.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Nothing.”

  Reynold stood in place and stared at Cole until Cole met eyes with him. Then, he turned his head to the side, “You’ll make it happen, Jerry.”

  “I’ll make it happen,” Jerry said.

  Reynold just nodded, and then strolled out of the RCMP detachment, at which point the room was silent until Jerry said, “You gotta watch your mouth with that crap, kid.”

  “Go back to sleep, Jerry Can,” Lauren said.

  Jerry grunted, and leaned back in his chair. He locked his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.

  “You do have to be careful what you say, alright?” Lauren smiled almost apologetically. She hated to agree with Jerry, but in this case he was right. “The good will you’ve built up will only go so far with that guy.”

  “Yeah, I’ve kind of experienced that,” Cole said.

  “Right,” Lauren said, “back to the matter at hand. We didn’t clean out that camp, so I’m not sure how much help we can be. Sorry.”

  “Could you let me know if you hear anything?” Cole asked.

  “Of course,” she said. “If anything comes up, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks.” Cole stood up, sure that Reynold was a comfortable distance ahead of him. He started for the door. With his hand on the doorknob, Lauren called out, “Hey, what was it?”

  “Huh?”

  “What were you looking for?”

  “Answers.”

  11

  KIDDO

  COLE PEERED OUT FROM THE EDGE OF BLACKWOOD FOREST towards the research facility. After a trip to the mall, Cole was appropriately dressed for a nighttime break-in. He’d found a black toque that said “Native Pride” on it, a black hoodie with a wolf design (not a coyote, most importantly), and thick, black long johns (which Cole had been assured weren’t yoga pants).

  He’d been in his hiding spot for several minutes trying to figure out the best way to get in. The entire building was surrounded by an electric fence and there were guards at each gate, as well as one at the front pacing from one end of the fence to the other. He’d settled on testing out whether he could jump over the fence or not, estimating that it was ten feet high. By now, he should’ve perfected the timing: when to run out into the open so the guard wouldn’t see him, where to take off from so he had the best chance to clear the fence. But instead, he was staring at a park bench on the other side of the fence.

  “Dad,” seven-year-old Cole said, sitting across from his father, and beside his mother, on that same park bench.

  “Yes, Cole?” His dad put down his sandwich, wiped a bit of peanut butter from his chin with one of the napkins Cole’s mom had brought.

  “Why do you have to go to work?” Cole asked.

  Mimicking his dad, he put down his half-eaten apple and wiped at his mouth, too (only Cole wiped at his mouth with his sleeve).

  His dad tossed the napkin into the brown paper bag with the rest of their lunchtime garbage—empty sandwich bags, apple cores, and used napkins. His dad pointed at the apple Cole had put down. Part of the core was visible. White parts at the edge of Cole’s teeth marks were already browning. “Do you see that apple, son?”

  “Yeah.” Of course he saw it, it was right in front of him.

  “Well, I have to work so that I can buy things like that apple,” his dad said. “Out here, those things are expensive. If I want you to eat right, I have to be able to afford it. That’s how it works.”

  Cole rested his cheek on his fist and he stared at that apple core, counting the seeds he could see. Two. Finally, he looked up. “So you work so you can buy us vegetables and fruit?”

  Cole’s mom laughed. His dad laughed, too. They looked at each other, and then his dad looked at him. “Yes, so I can buy us fruits and vegetables. The ones we can’t grow in the garden.”

  Satisfied with his dad’s response, Cole picked up the apple and took a big bite out of it.

  Cole could taste the apple now, sitting in the darkness, staring at the park bench, old and broken and covered in peeling paint. He could taste it on his lips, as the juice curved over his bottom lip and ran down his chin. He could taste it on his tongue, its sweetness. He could feel the seed that he’d accidentally taken in his mouth, and he could remember picking it out from the back of his throat and throwing it on the ground. He had stared at it there, and asked his dad, “Couldn’t we just bury that seed and grow an apple tree and then you don’t have to work?”

  His dad had smiled at him, at his inquisitiveness, and looked like he wanted to say something—Cole had an idea of what that something might’ve been now, the impossibility of what little Cole had wanted that apple seed to do. But his dad had just ruffled Cole’s hair and said, “Sorry, kiddo.”

  Sorry, kiddo. That was the last time he saw his father. That night, his mother came into his room, interrupting his sneaky late-night comic book session.

  “Cole,” she sat down at the side of his bed.

  “What is it mommy?” he asked.

  She gathered him up into her arms. She squeezed him. “Your father, Cole. He died today.”

  Cole looked past the park bench, at the building. He pictured himself inside after jumping the fence and breaking the lock at the front door (he was good at breaking locks and door handles), and seeing his dad’s body, maybe sitting in a chair, maybe sprawled out on the floor, having desperately tried to get out, get away, save himself, save others. The lady he died with. Her body would be there, too. At least, Cole thought, his dad wasn’t alone, lying there, just a corpse covered in the clothes he had been wearing that day. Beige dress pants. White sneakers. Striped t-shirt. White lab coat. His hair might even still be there, messed but still looking good, like it had been messed intentionally. But Cole knew that his dad just got up and left in the morning, after feeding him breakfast. That’s how his hair looked, asleep or awake. Or dead. Sorry, kiddo.

  Cole knew it, of course. He knew what he was doing, staring at the bench, desperately replaying memories, imagining himself inside the building: Stalling. Just like he had been all night. He didn’t want to see his dad like that. He wanted the last memory to be what it was. The best memory. He didn’t want to have the bones. He didn’t want that to be the last time he saw his dad. Sorry, kiddo. He kept hearing his dad say that. Then, those same two words played back at him, only in Choch’s voice. Sorry, kiddo. You have to do it. That’s the deal. Well, it might be the deal. I misspoke. But, you know, it’s promising, CB. To shut him up, and only to shut him up, Cole waited for the guard to come back, then turn away, and when the guard was far enough, Cole sprinted towards the fence.

  The task of leaping over the electric fence was as simple as dunking the basketball—jump high enough to get the ball over the rim, and then, once it was through the rim, land on the ground. As he ran, he calculated. Could he actually clear the fence? How much effort did he put into jumping to dunk? Not much. But getting over the fence was like trying to dunk on a twenty-foot rim, not a ten-foot rim. Wind rushed against his face. He was back in Blackwood Forest, running from the murderer, from Scott. Rushing towards Scott, trying to save Eva. Faster, Cole. Build momentum. Five feet away from the fence, Cole launched off the ground with his left foot and flew through the air. Up. Up higher. The holes in the fence blurre
d into trails. And then there were no trails, just the dark of night, just the outline of trees against the horizon. Just the northern lights hanging like fog over Wounded Sky. Just Cole, and all of this before him. For a moment, Cole felt like he could touch the ribbons of light. For a moment, he was bigger than his problems. For a moment, he left them behind, far below. The next moment, he came back to Earth.

  Cole landed on the sidewalk in front of the entrance on two feet. He stopped himself by bracing his palms against the steps to the door. He stood up. Just an inch or two of metal between him and, if he was lucky, some answers. The folder. The files. His dad. Somewhere inside the building, behind those inches of metal.

  Cole felt it all in his body—the beast rearing its ugly head—inside his chest, pounding to get out. It covered his body like a heat blanket, his skin breaking into a sweat. It whispered into his ear all the things he couldn’t do, all the things he was too weak for. “I’m stronger than you,” Cole whispered. It was spinning him around, making him feel unsteady, weak in the knees. It was covering his eyes with its midnight hands, coaxing him into unconsciousness. Cole shook his head, and he shook the beast off his body. He took a step a forward. He wrapped his hands around one door handle, then the other, and pulled as hard as he could. The handles scattered across the concrete.

  A rush of air pushed against his cheeks, against his eyes. He blinked it away. He could see the checkered tile floor that led down the hallway and then forked off into two directions. He could see, in the natural light from the sky, from the moon, from the spirits dancing, the path laid out before him. He stepped forward, but stopped.

  He felt a drop of water hit his head, although he knew it was a clear night. He heard growling. He looked up, and saw a figure on top of the building, a silhouette against the northern lights, its eyes burning red, saliva dripping from its mouth. Cole tried to look away, but he couldn’t. The monster held him in place with its glower. With its awful stench and reaching arms. Reaching for him.

  “Yooooou.” It said, “Yooooou,” like a howling wind. “Yooooou.”

  It descended towards him, its fingers digging into the side of the building. Move. Move, Cole. Cole backed away. Farther. Farther. It dropped from the building and stepped towards him. Cole looked to his left, to his right. He turned on his heel and ran. He could hear the thing chasing close behind.

  “Yooooou. Yoooou. Yoooou.”

  Cole planted his left foot, strained to push off, but his knee collapsed. He landed halfway up the fence. He curled his fingers around the metal wires, and felt the electricity surge through his body. Steam rose from his skin. He could hear the thing behind him, and then he felt its scaly fingers scratching at his feet. He leaped forward, grabbed the fence—again and again.

  “Yoooou. Yoooou.”

  When he was at the top, he let himself fall. He landed on his back, on the other side.

  He pushed himself up.

  His whole body felt on fire. His hands were like blackened wood after a bonfire. He ran, stumbled, got up, ran.

  “Yoooou. Yoooou.”

  Its voice was farther away now. Cole didn’t look back. He ran all the way to Elder Mariah’s place. He could remember seeing it in the distance. But after seeing it, like a beacon in the nightmare black, he could remember nothing else.

  12

  BURNT

  WHEN COLE CAME TO AFTER A HEAVY and unexpected rest, he knew exactly where he was. Brady’s couch had become familiar to him. Over the last couple of weeks, he’d wedged an imprint of his body into the cushions, and he was stuck in that imprint now. The memory of last night came hard and fast: The shadowy figure chasing him across the grass from the research facility, and the surge of pain each time his skin connected with metal as he tried to escape.

  His muscles ached and there was a burning sensation across his palms. He forced his eyes open to find the ceiling staring back at him, the tiles yellowed from water damage. He lifted his hands into view, and saw blackened lines on his palms, right over his scars, in a crosshatch pattern. He winced at the memory of getting shocked, repeatedly, by the electric fence.

  “Cole?”

  At the sound of his auntie’s voice, Cole’s arms dropped to his sides. No. Nope, he thought. Still dreaming. He closed his eyes to get back there, to ensure this wasn’t really happening.

  But then he heard his auntie say his name again.

  “Cole.”

  “Yes?” He didn’t look in her direction. He just found one yellow patch on one ceiling tile, and held his gaze there.

  “What happened last night?” she asked.

  “I don’t…I don’t know what you mean.” Cole’s throat hurt from speaking, like he’d swallowed fire.

  “Your kókom and I—”

  “Grandma?” Cole’s head shifted a fraction to the side.

  “Tansi, Nósisim.”

  “Tell us what happened last night,” Auntie Joan said. “Now.”

  This is happening, Cole conceded to himself. His auntie coming to Wounded Sky might be the worst thing that could happen. He grunted as he tried to get up into a sitting position, and ended up sprawled over the couch’s armrest. Good enough. The morning got even worse when he saw not only his grandmother sitting politely at the kitchen table, but Lauren and Jerry as well, each with a cup of coffee.

  “I want to know what’s going on before I say anything,” Cole said.

  “Lauren and Jerry came to question you about something,” Auntie Joan said to Cole, but then she turned to the two constables and added, “without an adult present.”

  “It was just some questions, Joan,” Jerry said.

  “Don’t tell me that I have to go over the law with you, Constable,” Auntie Joan said.

  “Actually, you probably do,” Lauren said. “To one of us, anyway.”

  “Then what’s your excuse?” Auntie Joan heated up.

  “Sorry, Joan. We were just—”

  “You’re lucky I’m going to let you talk to him now,” Auntie Joan said. “Clearly I came at the right time.” She stared right into Cole’s eyes. Her stare was a laser beam. “To protect you from them, but also from yourself.”

  “Protect me from them?” Cole looked back and forth between his auntie and the constables, which killed his head, but he was super confused. “Can somebody please just tell me? Grandma?”

  “Something happened last night,” his kókom said.

  No shit, Cole thought. “I know that.”

  Nobody said anything for a moment. All the adults just stared at Cole, waiting for him to tell them something, but he had no idea what.

  “What were you doing last night, kid?” Jerry asked. He had a notepad out, a pen at the ready.

  “Uhhh,” Cole said, “just…” he straightened out on the couch.

  “Just tell us everything you remember, alright?” Lauren said.

  “I had dinner at the Fish before I came to see you guys,” Cole said, “you can ask Pam. And then I went and got some clothes from the mall after I left the detachment…”

  Jerry started scribbling notes when Cole mentioned getting clothes.

  “…because I didn’t bring enough clothes with me from Winnipeg. So I got some shirts and pants and a toque.” Cole instinctively felt for the toque. He didn’t want them to see his hair sticking up. Did electrocuted hair even do that, or was that just in cartoons? The toque was gone, but his hair just felt matted and dry.

  “Those the new clothes?” Lauren asked.

  “Did you do anything else at the mall?” Jerry asked.

  “What’s this all about?” Cole’s heart started to race, and his breath shortened.

  “Could you not interrogate him?” his auntie said. “You said you were going to ask questions, that’s it.” She got up, walked across the living room, and sat down beside him.

  “There was an accident last night,” Lauren said, softer, to Cole.

  “It was no accident,” Jerry said.

  “I’m sorry, what kind of
accident?” Another death? Was it happening again? His world started to spin. He felt like puking.

  “Somebody set fire to the mall, and most of it’s…” Lauren paused “…it’s superficial, but—”

  “It was real, Cole,” Jerry said.

  “Superficial means the damage was mostly on the surface, Jer, it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.” She said to Cole, “The back of the grocery store, along the exterior walls, got most of it. They’re all charred and…anyway…”

  “Somebody called in that they seen you there,” Jerry said, seriously.

  “Yeah, I told you. I got clothes. That’s all. People saw me there.”

  “Those clothes new or not?” Jerry asked. “Answer the question.”

  Cole looked down at his body. His clothes were all dirtied, ragged. He could see his hoodie vibrating from his heartbeat. “Yeah. I…I h-have the receipt and everything,” he forced out, but his lips were hardly working.

  “Are you okay?” his auntie asked quietly so just he could hear her.

  He nodded.

  “Somebody called in that they’d seen you later on in the night at the mall, after it had closed. Saw you snooping around…all in black,” Lauren said.

  “Looks like those new clothes got kind of burnt from something?” Jerry said.

  “They aren’t necessarily burnt, Jer,” Lauren said.

  “I tried to climb a fence,” Cole said quickly. “I got electrocuted.”

  “What fence?” Lauren asked. “At the facility?”

  Cole nodded again, but it looked like he was freezing cold. He’d faint soon, he knew it.

  “Why?” she asked.

  How much to tell? Was trying to break in to the research facility better than arson? He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t even think straight, but he said, “I was looking for something.”

  “From the camp? What you came to see us about?” Lauren asked.

  “Yeah,” Cole said. “Since you guys didn’t clean up the camp, that was the last place I could think of looking.”

  “The facility?” Lauren said. “Why there? What were you looking for?”