Vision of Shadows

by Vincent Morrone

  As my supernatural abilities did not cover scaling fences, I fell on my face, but I got over it. I picked myself up and looked around to make sure no one, especially Payne, saw me. Then I went to the back of the house.

  The backdoor of the house was ajar. I assumed that was where Payne had entered. It looked like Payne had picked the lock somehow. With a sigh of resignation, I went over, took one last look around, and then entered. Now I could add breaking and entering to my list of things I’d done.

  As I reached for the door, I was hit by a wave of unbridled fury. I knew without a doubt that it was coming from Payne.

  I pushed the door open. The room looked like a work area, with hammers, saws, and power tools all in their place. It was dark and dusty. The only light from a single bulb hanging from the middle of the ceiling, still moving from when Payne pulled the string.

  I could still hear the barking of the dog, now more of an impatient whine. I scanned the room and saw what certainly could be an adult version of Eli inside a dog crate. He wanted out. I couldn’t say that I blamed him.

  Payne was at a nearby desk. His back was to me as he continued to look at something he’d found.

  “Payne? Are you okay?”

  Payne straightened, his fists clenched beside him. When he turned, it didn’t take my abilities to see the murderous rage that was barley being contained. The look on his face, a face still so beautiful, was the same face I‘d seen in countless dreams.

  Instinctively, I took a step back. For the first time since meeting Payne, I felt afraid.

  “It was him,” Payne hissed. “He killed Jared. It’s here.” Payne held up the notebook and gave it a quick wave before throwing it to the table. “He even says how he regrets hurting my aunt, but that it’s for the best!”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, keeping my voice soft and calm. “Jared deserved better than this. We need to call my uncle.”

  Payne had a look of disgust on his face. “So Weeder can get a lawyer, and a fair trial, and someone who will say he was insane?”

  “Payne, we need to let the police handle this,” I insisted. “Nothing you do is going to bring Jared back. If you do anything to Weeder, your life will be over. Your aunt needs you. Your family…”

  “My family is in that book!” Payne shouted. “He’s been watching us all. He thinks that all of us need to be killed. He thinks we’re evil. Demons from hell.”

  “Payne,” I said. “We really need to call my uncle. Please.”

  Payne took a step closer to me, and for a second, I felt that cold shiver of panic on the back of my neck. Then Payne pulled me to him, put his arms around me, and held on. As I held him back, I felt him gather control of the rage within him.

  “Call your uncle,” Payne said.

  “I don’t think so,” someone said.

  Instantly, Payne shoved me behind him. There was a man who’d come in from behind us. He was tall, reed thin, dressed in dirty blue jeans and a red flannel shirt. He wore a red ball cap that had seen better days and boots caked with dirt and grime. Most importantly, he was holding a shotgun and had it aimed directly at us.

  “Payne,” he said. “I suppose telling you that you shouldn’t be here would seem useless at this point.”

  “You might say that,” Payne responded. “Why, Mr. Weeder? Jared was a good kid.”

  “I thought so,” Weeder said. “But that boy wasn’t what he seemed to be. In fact, I’m wondering if you are either.” Weeder then motioned toward me with the barrel of his shotgun as if he’d just noticed me for the first time. “Who’s your friend there?”

  “None of your business,” Payne snarled.

  “Well now,” Weeder said. “This here shotgun says it is my business. What’s your name, girl?”

  I jumped as he aimed the shotgun toward me.

  “I ain’t waiting all day for an answer, Missy,” Weeder yelled. “Now! Or so help me…”

  “Bristol,” I said in an embarrassingly squeaky voice. “Bristol Blackburn.”

  For a second, he lowered the barrel of the gun just a touch.

  “Blackburn? Well hell, what’s a Blackburn doing down here with a McKnight? It ain’t natural. Y’all are supposed to hate each other.”

  “I’ve heard,” I replied. “I’m new in town, so I’m still trying to get the rules down.”

  “That right?” Weeder said. “Let me educate you. McKnights are a bunch of evil S.O.B.s you can’t trust worth spit. And some of ‘em, maybe even this one right here, are more evil then the rest. Some of ’em been touched by the devil ’emself. No one knows that better than a Blackburn. I shouldn’t have to tell you nuthin’. You of all people. I heard of you, Bristol Blackburn. Aint you livin’ with Gregory Blackburn?”

  I didn’t like discussing my personal life with people I didn’t know, most especially people who were pointing shotguns at me and had killed little boys and kidnapped their dogs. However, I really couldn’t think of a way to not answer without upsetting the man with said shotgun, so I nodded. “Yes I do.”

  “I’ll bet he could tell you,” Weeder said. “Your grandpa knows all about them McKnights. He’ll tell you that they ain’t right. For years, I thought your grandpa was full of it. Thought to myself, that Greg Blackburn, he’s nothin’ but a loon. No offense.”

  I shrugged. “None taken. To be honest, I’ve kinda thought the same thing myself.”

  “Well, let me tell you, he ain’t as crazy as people might say,” Weeder said. “If he knew what I’d done, he’d tell me I’d done right.”

  “No, he wouldn’t,” I scoffed.

  “I find that hard to believe, little Missy,” Weeder said.

  “First off,” I said. “Grandpa would never justify killing an innocent boy. Second, and I can’t stress how important this is, don’t call me little Missy. I hate that.”

  Payne slowly looked over his shoulder and sent me an are you insane? look.

  “That boy,” Weeder continued, “was hardly innocent. I’m not even sure he was human. He did things. Did things with his mind. Now I’m sorry for the hurt I caused his mother. She seems like a fine woman. She deserved better.”

  I could feel Payne’s rage building. He wanted to leap across the room and tear Weeder’s heart out.

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “What do you mean did things with his mind? What could Jared do?”

  “Kid had a way with animals,” Weeder said. “Was able to talk to them. Tell them what to do. I watched him for a long time doing that.”

  “Are you nuts?” I asked. “A boy talking to animals makes him demonic? I talk to my hamster all the time. What does that make me?”

  Weeder laughed. “A silly little girl. I’ll bet you talk to your hamster, but I doubt he listens.”

  “Ricky listens to me all the time. Just wait until I tell him about you.”

  “Is she serious?” he asked Payne, although the gun was pointed more toward me.

  “I can only wonder,” Payne answered. “Look, Weeder. I don’t know what you think you know, but Jared was just a boy.”

  “Was he now?” Weeder asked.

  “What does it matter?” I said. “What does it matter if Jared could talk to animals, or even if he could make them dance? You didn’t have to kill him.”

  “I thought that way at first,” Weeder admitted. “Thought it was none of my business, never mind what he did. But then the voices, they started to whisper in my ear. Telling me what needed to be done.”

  “Voices in your head?” I said. “You know that’s not exactly normal, right? Had it occurred to you that there was nothing wrong with Jared, but that you might be just a tad bit, oh I don’t know… insane?”

  “You might think I’m crazy, girl,” Weeder answered. “But I believe those were the voices of angels, telling me God’s will.”

  “If you believe that,” Payne said. “Then let’s go talk to Sheriff Blackburn. He’ll understand.”

  Weeder narrowed his eyes. “Sheriff’s a good man, bu
t he’s made it pretty clear where he stands. I don’t blame him. It’s hard to look past the shell of that thing I killed. Realize it wasn’t…” Weeder started to look around, as if he was hearing something in the walls.

  I heard it, too. It sounded like the echo of fingernails on a chalkboard. My skin crawled as it reverberated through the room. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a shadow. The shadow rushed one way, then the other, each movement accompanied by the same shrill sound.

  Weeder looked around wildly now. Panic crossed his face. He took a step back, and for a moment, he lowered the barrel of the shot gun.

  Payne tensed, ready to spring into action. But before Payne could, Weeder looked our way again. His eyes filled with tears as he nodded.

  “What’s happening?” Payne whispered.

  “Something’s here,” I answered. “Not human. I’ve never…” I remembered the other night’s dream. “Once. In a dream. Oh, Payne…”

  “What?” I heard worry for the first time in Payne’s voice.

  “He’s not just crazy,” I said. “There is something.”

  “Shut up,” Weeder yelled. Up until now, he had been calm, almost nonchalant. Now he was openly weeping. I felt waves of hatred pouring out of him. Underneath that was a steady stream of fear. Then came what I dreaded the most. Resignation.

  “I was hoping there’d be a different way,” Weeder said. “But apparently not. I’m ready. Looks like God has given me one last mission.”

  “You try and kill Bristol,” Payne threatened, “I swear, you will not walk out of here alive.”

  “That ain’t in the plan,” Weeder said.

  “Payne,” I said. “He’s going to kill himself when he’s done.”

  Weeder nodded. “Dog there? He’s a good dog. I’d appreciate him being cared for after today.”

  “Mr. Weeder, please,” I pleaded. “You don’t want to do this.”

  His face was a mixture of sadness and fury. “Want got nothing to do with it. Just step away from him. No need for any extra blood to be spilled today. Go stand over there.” He indicated the adjoining wall, which was covered with a variety of hanging tools.

  I shook my head. “No, I won’t go. You can’t make me.”

  “You go, girl,” Weeder demanded. “Now!”

  I was still shaking my head when Payne turned and grabbed me. He gave me one quick look of determination before throwing me across the room. I screamed his name, but he just pointed his finger at me. “Bristol,” Payne yelled. “Just go. Please.”

  I looked at Payne and cried. How could I have ever dreamed of Payne hurting me when he was so ready to die for me? I could feel such relief emanating from Payne now that he believed me safe.

  I heard Eli whine. That’s when it struck me; Weeder clearly wanted me away from Payne, and Payne was right near Eli. If Weeder shot Payne, Eli might get hurt. Something was wrong.

  Eli wasn’t in danger because Payne wasn’t the target. I was.

  Weeder aimed the shotgun away from Payne and toward me. Payne’s face registered shock and anger. He thought he had been protecting me by pushing me away from him. Instead, he’d just signed my death warrant.

  “She ain’t what she appears to be, boy,” Weeder said. And with a look of both pity and loathing in his eyes, he pulled the trigger.

  Payne leaped out to protect me, taking the entire blast in his stomach and chest. I slammed back against the wall, causing several tools to fall and clatter around me.

  With a thud, Payne fell to the floor. His blood pooled around him. I felt the burning agony of his wounds.

  Weeder gazed down at Payne with a look of regret. “I didn’t want to do that,” he said as the shadows started to speak to him again.

  I looked at Payne on the floor, dying for me.

  I was scared beyond belief, but even more, I was enraged. My hand reached out and found something hanging on the wall, something that hadn’t fallen. I think it was a hammer. I threw it at Weeder. It flew across the garage and hit him in the arm, breaking him out of his trance.

  “Ow,” he yelled. “That hurt!”

  “That hurt?” I screamed. I started to grab other objects from the ground.

  “You!” I chucked a screwdriver. “Killed!” A wrench. “Payne!” A small saw hit him in the forehead, causing him to bleed. I grabbed the only other thing within reach. It was a plunger. I held it like a bat in front of me when Weeder recovered and aimed once again at me.

  “I wasn’t going to take any pleasure in this,” Weeder said. “But maybe it would be okay to enjoy blowing you away.”

  I prepared to die.

  Payne rolled onto his knees and leapt up onto Weeder. I was shocked beyond belief as he quickly punched Weeder in the gut and grabbed the weapon.

  Weeder and Payne each gripped the shotgun as they struggled, pulling it back and forth. Payne slammed his head forward, hitting Weeder’s forehead and making him stumble back. That gave Payne the leverage to smash the butt of the gun into Weeder’s face.

  Payne was alive and uninjured. It was impossible, incredible, and beyond imagination.

  Weeder fell backwards into a workbench. More tools clattered to the ground, as did Weeder. His face was bleeding badly. Payne had broken his nose, and one eye looked like it was ready to swell shut.

  Payne took a quick step back, cocked the shotgun, and aimed it at Weeder.

  “You were going to kill, Bristol,” Payne spat.

  “You should be dead,” Weeder rasped.

  “You killed, Jared,” Payne said, shaking with fury. “He was just a boy.”

  “I killed you,” Weeder yelled. “I killed you, and you should be dead. You…. You’re a… I don’t know what you are. Some sorta demon that needs to be sent back to hell!”

  “Maybe I am,” Payne said. “But you’re going first.”

  “Payne,” I screamed. “Don’t!”

  “Bristol,” Payne said through gritted teeth. “He was going to kill you.”

  I gently placed a hand on his arm.

  “I know,” I said. “You stopped him. I’m okay. You saved me.”

  “He killed Jared,” Payne insisted. “He doesn’t deserve to live.”

  “I know,” I said. “Payne, you can’t just kill him. It’s not you. You’re not a killer. Please, let me call my uncle.”

  “Call your uncle,” Weeder yelled. “And I’ll tell everyone about the both of you! How you’re both demons!”

  “Oh hush,” I demanded. “You go ahead and tell. Who is going to believe a word you have to say?”

  Weeder looked at me with his one good eye. “You saw! You saw me shoot him dead. What are you going to say when they ask you about it?”

  “Lie,” I answered. “Payne, please.”

  Payne just stood there, shotgun aimed right at Weeder’s head. I could feel the rage within him. Then Payne glanced in my direction, and our eyes met.

  “Call your uncle,” he said. “He’s not worth it.”

  I smiled at Payne before reaching into my pocket for my cell. Just as I was punching in the number, siren’s blared. “I guess someone heard the shots,” I said.

  Payne and I allowed ourselves to be distracted by the sound of the police siren growing louder by the moment. It was all Weeder needed. He reached into the bottom of the workbench behind him, pulled out a handgun, and aimed it at me.

  Once again, Payne stepped in front of me and took two to the chest. Payne fell back a step into my arms. I looked down at his chest and saw the blood trickle out from the wounds. Two freshly made bullet holes were clearly visible dead center of his chest. It was a wound that would have killed anyone else.

  Payne healed before my eyes, the blood being the only evidence of what had happened. It was the most amazing thing I’d ever seen. I was speechless, and mystified, and so very grateful.

  I shivered. Something bitterly cold had just passed by me. I had no idea what it was, but I knew something was about to happen.

  I jumped at th
e bang of Weeder’s gun going off one more time. I looked to Payne and saw he had not been shot again. And I was pretty sure I hadn’t been either. I looked to Weeder.

  He had put the barrel of the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. His eyes were still open, a look of anger and fear locked in place.

  A shimmer of darkness rose from Weeder. It was there for only a moment before dissipating into nothingness.

  Slowly, we backed away from Weeder just as we heard the police car pull up in front. I looked to Payne. “Are you really okay?” I asked, trying to keep myself together.

  Payne nodded. “I’m fine.”

  I put my hands on his chest, needing to feel him. “My God, Payne.”

  “Bristol, I’m sorry,” he said.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Yeah, I guess we do,” he agreed. “What now?”

  I forced myself to calm down and went to let Eli out of the crate. “First, we deal with my uncle. How are we going to explain your shirt?”

  Payne looked down at his shirt, which was riddled with holes and soaked with blood.

  “Damn,” he said as he pulled it off.

  I wondered how he intended to explain being shirtless again to my uncle, when Payne pulled out a T-shirt from his backpack.

  “Gym shirt,” Payne explained as he pulled the rather worn looking shirt on. “I leave it in my school locker. Brought it home to wash.”

  I rushed forward into Payne’s arms and started to shake. “Play along,” I said as I smelled the musky scent of his shirt. I looked up into Payne’s eyes and winked. “Good call on the shirt. It needs the wash,” I whispered. “Uncle Mark, we’re in here!”

  With a kick, Uncle Mark came bursting in, gun drawn and two deputies at his back. One was Pinky; the other was someone I didn’t know. He was tall, with dark skin and a shaved head.

  “It’s okay,” I shouted, making my voice shake. “We’re okay. He’s dead.”

  Uncle Mark found Weeder, and after a quick inspection nodded in agreement. “I can see.” He reached down, took the gun, and handed it to Pinky.

  “You two all right?” he asked, pulling me out of Payne’s hold and hugging me himself. The relief in his voice warmed my heart. I felt a little guilty for the lies I was about to tell, but what else could I do? I had to protect Payne as he’d protected me.