The Sound of Wind
Page 26
**
Hugo dreaded getting out of the car. Everyone would know what he’d done, he hadn’t really considered that. It would be obvious; blood vessels would have popped, maybe his brain hemorrhaged. There wasn’t a lot of precedence for vacuum-related deaths. But the car was stopped and everyone was getting out. They were only halfway back to Gideon Enterprises, but Sol flipped open the trunk of the car. A moment later Hugo heard from the front seat “Dr. McFadden, come here.” Then there was a small gasp.
“Wait CJ, don’t-” The doctor began, but the trunk hood had eclipsed CJ as well. And then she was on the side of the road, puking. Hugo sluggishly got out of the car, walking very slowly towards the trunk, dropping his fifth cigarette on the ground as he did. Reluctantly he rounded the corner. The kid, Adam, had his mouth open like a fish, his eyes were red. He wasn’t moving. The doctor had her hand to his throat, shaking her head. He was dead. He was dead. He had killed a sixteen year old kid. He’d killed someone CJ’s age. He’d killed someone she could talk to. “Hugo, could you-” the rest of the doctor’s sentence was drowned out by his vomiting. He rushed over to the landscaped island with CJ, splattering the bushes with his breakfast. Adam Taylor was dead. Hugo had killed him. He would never go back home, his parent’s would never see him alive again and they wouldn’t even know why. There was nothing left in him but acid, so he spit that out too. He was a murderer. The trunk slammed shut.
Hugo straightened, wiping his mouth. The doctor was running her hand along CJ’s back, glaring at Sol over her shoulder. Her attention diverted to Hugo when he moved. Her eyebrows were drawn towards each other, mouth turned down. She seemed like she was apologizing for not being able to help him too. He didn’t understand it. Didn’t they realize what he’d done? He was shaking and lightheaded. He wiped the water from his eyes and stared out at the cars passing by. No one was even glancing at them, they had no idea what had happened.
Mesmerized by the cars, Hugo walked back towards the road, but when he reached the little white line, something jerked him back. “Stay put.” Sol said firmly. This was merely an inconvenience to him. The kid was dead, and he didn’t care. This drama was just halting their forward progress. Hugo stared at the other cars in the Wendy’s parking lot and then at the trunk. There was no Adam Taylor.
“Sit down. I’ll be right back.” The doctor was carefully placing CJ on the sidewalk out in front of the fast food restaurant before she quickly walked inside. What seemed like days later she came back out with cups of water and a few damp napkins. Sol was on the phone. She handed one of the cups and a few napkins to Hugo, that same apology written all over her face, and then she carefully folded her skirt and sat down next to CJ, offering the paper cup to her. CJ wouldn’t take it at first. He wanted to sit down too, but Sol had told him not to move, so he just stared down at the little waves his hand was creating in the water.
Christian came to get them through a portal. He and Sol carried the dead kid, covered in a tarp, back through it. Hugo could see through the contours of the tarp that Adam was already starting to stiffen.
“Hugo…” He could see the doctor’s lips moving but she sounded really muffled and far away. She took his hand. He wondered where the cup had gone. She led him through the portal and down a white hallway.
The next thing he noticed was that he was alone in one of the waiting rooms at Gideon Enterprises. He vaguely remembered CJ being led from the room so that she could lie down. He wanted to lie down too; to sleep and never wake up. Why wasn’t he in jail? Why wasn’t anyone yelling at him? He’d killed Adam and no one was there.
Hugo stood up, walking to Mr. Hansen’s office. Nancy let him in. Mr. Hansen motioned to the chair but Hugo didn’t want to sit down. “I killed him.”
Mr. Hansen folded his hands in his lap, “I read Dr. McFadden’s report. She says the likely cause was the tranquilizer overdose combined with the fall. Her report says it’s not your fault.”
Hugo shuddered. It was an accident. He wished it was an accident. Nothing changed. “I don’t feel very good,” his voice was soft and cracked.
“Did you think you were doing the right thing?”
Mr. Hansen’s voice was serene, compelling Hugo to respond without thinking, “Y-yes. He-”
“Then it’s ok. Go home.”
It was ok. He’d murdered someone and it was ok. Hugo took the bus home. He stared at the open medicine cabinet in his tiny bathroom. He wanted to sleep and never wake up. He pulled out the nearly full bottle of Nyquil and chugged it. He stood there staring at his reflection and waited. Eventually the world was moving very fast and he felt like he was submerged in water. He lurched clumsily out of the bathroom, running into the wall. He passed out as he fell onto the bed.