Queeroes

by Steven Bereznai

  He was ad libbing, of course. He knew what she felt, not why— that was anybody’s guess. So Troy guessed.

  Liza’s face blanched at his words, and the panic that he sensed pelting off her in waves told Troy that if she hadn’t previously been afraid of Devon losing interest in her with her power gone, she most definitely was now. The doubt in Devon’s face only made it worse. One did not have to be an empath to sense it.

  “Tell her that you love her,” Troy said. “It’s what she wants to hear.”

  “Bite me,” she said in her dry and brittle voice. Yet tears bubbled in her eyes.

  “Please,” she begged Devon, “fix me.”

  “Just tell her that you love her,” Troy insisted.

  “I…” Devon looked to her, to Troy, back to her.

  “You have a choice,” Troy insisted.

  And Devon made it.

  “Don’t worry, babe,” he said, “I’m going to make it all better.”

  He looked up at the poster of the human anatomy, and then back to her. He pressed his fingers into her throat, and they sank into her flesh. She smiled, closing her eyes, her face filled with peaceful rapture.

  “I love having you inside of me,” she said.

  “Don’t talk,” he cautioned. The sweat stood out on his forehead. “Almost done. There, that should…”

  Her eyes popped open, cheeks trembling.

  “Liza?” Devon asked, his voice wavering.

  She tried to talk, but nothing came out. She coughed, and spurts of blood hit Devon in the face. His fingers were still in her throat. His breathing quickened.

  “Don’t move, baby,” he said. He choked back a muffled sob. “I can fix this.”

  His fingers moved inside of her. He bit his lip in concentration. He wiped his forehead on his sleeve. She inhaled suddenly and then stopped, her entire body going stiff. Her eyes bulged in panic. She tried to push the air back out again. Her mouth shaped the same word her victims had uttered to her.

  Please.

  “Hold on!” Devon begged.

  He sank the fingers of his other hand into her throat.

  “I can unblock it, I just…”

  Minutes passed, quiet except for Devon’s panting. Liza’s face turned a shade of blue. Her body went limp. Her exhale never came.

  “Liza?” Devon called. “Liza!”

  He pressed his ear to her chest.

  “Liza!”

  Her torso hung from his fingertips, still deep in her neck. He lowered her to the ground and slid his fingers free.

  “She’s dead,” he sighed.

  She stared vacantly at the ceiling. A clock’s hand ticked. He calmly closed her empty gaze. Devon felt very far away. It was a sensation Troy knew all too well.

  “You’re in shock,” he said. “It’s natural…”

  Devon regarded him.

  “I’m going to kill myself now. But first, I’m going to kill your little boyfriend”— he stared at Chad meaningfully. “Then, Troy, I’m going to kill you. Then the rest of the school. Then your parents.”

  Devon got off his knees and walked calmly towards Troy, hands outstretched. Troy stayed protectively in front of Chad, but the cheerleader shoved him away. The weight that was strangling the blond pulled him back onto his tiptoes.

  Devon grabbed Chad’s hair and yanked it back. He gave the stud muffin’s neck a long lick.

  “I may not be able to put people back together very well, but I’m going to take you apart bit by bit, starting with that beautiful layer of skin of yours.”

  Troy circled around from behind and grabbed Devon’s wrists. With a forceful jerk the former wrestler yanked the black-haired teen off Chad, and tossed the boy to the ground. Devon tried to get up, but grunted as Troy landed on top of him, pinning him to the ground.

  “You want to be with him so much?” Devon struggled under the weight, his arms stuck under Troy’s knees, unable to touch him. “Then let me up. I’ll make the two of you inseparable.”

  “It doesn’t have to go like this,” Troy said. “You can still free Chad and Mandy. We can get Gibbie to a hospital.”

  “And then what?” Devon laughed, a little hysterically. “We’ll all be super best friends, and go to the prom together in a rented limo, and then after we graduate from college we can all buy houses on the same street and all our kids can go to the same frigging Montessori school?”

  “I wasn’t really thinking that far ahead,” Troy admitted.

  “Of course you weren’t,” Devon sputtered. “Why would you? High school’s great for guys like you, so you just assume that whatever life brings, it’ll be great too. Well, not all of us can be good little zombies.”

  “So that’s why you did it?” Troy demanded. “That’s why you killed my best friend?”

  “I’ve killed lots of people,” Devon bragged. “But Jesse, he killed himself.”

  “You sent him that video. You and Liza. If you hadn’t…”

  “Then what?” Devon sputtered. “He’d be with you?”

  “He’d be alive,” Troy replied.

  “The alive are dead,” Devon said with a maniacal titter. “It’s the undead who are truly alive.”

  Troy released his hold on Devon and stepped back.

  “What are you doing?” Devon asked, still lying on the ground and looking back over his shoulder suspiciously.

  “You’re hiding,” Troy said, “from what you did.”

  “I told you, Jesse killed himself.”

  “You helped. And…you killed Liza.”

  Devon looked over at her.

  “Chad killed her,” Devon growled.

  “Chad gave you a choice. You’d rather she be dead than be back the way she was.”

  Devon struggled for a reply. Troy was buffeted by the smaller teen’s anger, fear, and sadness.

  “I know how you feel,” Troy continued, “and not just because I know how you feel.”

  “That’s a laugh,” Devon said, getting to his feet, “coming from Mr. Aberbombie football star.”

  “And wrestling,” Troy added.

  “I can kill you, you know. I’ve done it before, to guys just like you.”

  “Did it make you feel better?”

  “A little,” Devon nodded.

  “Did it make you feel better emailing that video to Jesse?”

  “Definitely.”

  “And when Jesse killed himself?”

  “Like there was justice after all.”

  “He lived a lie, every day,” Troy said. “Wasn’t that punishment enough?”

  “Not when he got to collect the social rewards, something you know all about.”

  “I know that I’m not willing to do it anymore,” Troy said.

  “If this is your coming-out speech, you can save it,” Devon sneered. “I can see the headlines already. Local high-school sports hero leaves closet behind. You’ll probably get a civic award. And then you’ll graduate, go to the big city, party with some of the hottest guys around. You’ll meet ‘the one,’ some Tarzan himbo who takes you away from ‘the scene,’ except for the occasional orgy on a gay cruise. Otherwise, the two of you’ll go antiquing on Sundays after an eggs Benedict brunch, get married, rent a woman’s womb for the egg you’ve had artificially inseminated, then hire a nanny to raise the wailing parasite. Yeah, I’ve read Out magazine. Blah, cliché, blah. Well screw that, and screw you.”

  Devon shoved his hands deep into the concrete floor. Tendrils of cement burst upwards, coiling like snakes around Troy’s arms and shoulders, dragging him into a prostrate position, forearms to the ground, chest pressed against his hands, knees digging into concrete. He grunted and struggled futilely.

  He could feel Devon’s rage pounding into him, but underneath was something else as well. And that’s when Troy stopped struggling.

  Let him in, he told himself.

  Troy closed his eyes, and thought of Jesse. They had met on the playground in Grade 2. It was overcast. Troy had forgotten his lunch.r />
  “Here,” Jesse had said, offering Troy half his Hostess cupcake.

  They’d been best buds ever since.

  Tears bubbled in Troy’s eyes.

  “He’s gone,” Troy murmured, “he’s really gone.”

  The stabbing in his heart was unlike any he’d ever known. It welled up inside of him and came out a lonely sob.

  “Yeah, you cry, big man,” Devon mocked.

  Troy barely heard.

  Another memory, of Jesse and him in Grade 5, sword-fighting with sticks on the top of the monkey bars at the park, of Troy pushing Jesse, Jesse falling, onto his arm, a sickening crack; and then, sitting in the emergency room, more scared than ever, for his friend, for what he’d done to him.

  Jesse never told on him, and made sure Troy was the first to sign his cast.

  Devon took Troy’s face in his hands. The jock shook and sobbed.

  More memories. Buying their first porn mags. Playing video games. Planning spring break. Never feeling alone as long as he could just hear Jesse’s voice on the phone.

  “Don’t worry, you and Jesse will be together soon enough,” Devon promised. His fingers slowly began to sink into Troy’s face.

  There was a clang and moan of metal as Chad violently tried to free himself, but Troy didn’t struggle. He gazed full into his attacker’s eyes, and let Devon feel what he felt. The pain of loss ripped through Troy, and into Devon, sending him stumbling backwards, his fingers popping free of Troy’s cheeks.

  “What are you doing to me?” Devon gasped. He doubled over and gripped his stomach.

  Troy said nothing. He was remembering. It was near the end of summer. Jesse and Troy lay on his bed. Jesse read The Tommy-knockers. Troy read The Gunslinger. Both Stephen King novels. It was warm out. Jesse took his shirt off. Troy stared at his friend’s body, the heat making him trance out. That was the moment Troy knew what he was.

  Another sob rose up from Troy.

  The concrete coils twisted around him were cold, cold like a body left in the ground to rot. The memories, painful as they were, the memories warmed him, so he let them fly free.

  Tears welled in Devon’s eyes.

  “Stop it!” he shouted, the salty drops lancing the sides of his mouth. He pushed his fingers into the concrete. “I said stop it!”

  The tendrils around Troy tightened. He grimaced, and as he did, so did Devon.

  “Feels a bit tight, doesn’t it?” Troy asked with a muffled laugh, the grief putting him on the edge of hysteria. “What you do to me, you will feel yourself.”

  Devon shook his head.

  “I’ll kill you.”

  The tendrils constricted like a python. Troy screamed. Devon screamed. The tendrils relaxed. Devon was panting now.

  “Let’s see you hurt me without a brain,” Devon threatened.

  He stepped towards Troy, arms outstretched.

  Troy closed his eyes, and opened his heart. Before things went so wrong, Troy lay in Jesse’s arms, back when they could pretend it was just a brotherly cuddle. It had been…

  “…safe,” Devon whispered.

  He pushed tears from his eyes as he recalled Liza’s embrace. He remembered holding her, and the ever-present anger and pain and loneliness would dissolve. He’d forget for a moment how much the world sucked. He would forget everything but her. And now she was dead, and he was the one who’d killed her. The realization was like a stake in his heart. He could still feel his fingers inside of her as she gasped for air.

  “I killed her,” he said, and the words were spinning blades dicing his insides.

  “Please,” Devon whimpered, the pain of losing her making him fall to his knees. He hugged himself tightly. “Make it go away,” he begged of Troy.

  Devon pressed his fingers into the concrete and the bindings around Troy receded into the floor.

  “I let you go,” he said, digging his nails into his arms as he curled into a ball. “I’ll let your friends go. Just please, make this feeling stop!”

  A strangled sob made him choke. He rocked himself from side to side.

  “I can’t,” Troy said, standing over Devon. “These feelings are yours to feel.”

  “No,” Devon gasped, clawing at his face. “I’ve done things…you don’t even know…felt nothing but pride and…”

  Troy grabbed the younger boy’s wrists.

  “Look at her,” he ordered.

  “I don’t want…”

  “Look at her!” Troy ordered.

  Devon obeyed, staring at Liza’s motionless body.

  “I tried to help her,” Devon said. “I tried to fix her… I… I… I killed her,” he sobbed.

  Troy kneeled next to him and hugged him tight.

  “How can I live with this feeling?” Devon asked, pressing himself into Troy.

  “Don’t fight it,” Troy said. “Let it wash through you.”

  “I can’t,” Devon replied, shaking his head. “It’s too much. It’s too frigging much. It hurts so bad.”

  He ripped at his chest. His body trembled uncontrollably, and his nails dug deeper, leaving bloody trenches as he scooped out troughs of skin, as if his own body were made from soft clay.

  “Stop it!” Troy said, trying to grab the smaller boy’s wrists.

  In a burst of strength Devon pushed him away.

  “I can’t live with this. Not this. Not alone. Not again.”

  His fingers slid into his own chest as if it were pudding. He was in past his wrist. Troy watched the muscles in Devon’s forearm clench. The younger boy’s face spasmed and his arm made a jerky tug. His face relaxed, peaceful, as his body collapsed to the floor.

  In his hand, he held his own heart.

  Epilogue

  There was a great whining of metal that ended in a twanging snap and the clatter of dropping weights. Chad fell to his hands and knees, gasping. With a final burst of strength he’d finally managed to break the metal cord that was killing him and he quickly uncoiled it from around his throat.

  “Mandy,” he said between panting breaths.

  He and Troy turned to the glob that was all that was left of Jesse, which had now become Mandy’s coffin. Chad got up, claws extended.

  “I’m coming for you, baby,” he said, but Troy held him back by the shoulder, pointing to Mandy’s prison. It began to vibrate.

  “I don’t think she needs us to rescue her,” Troy said. “In fact, we might want to take…”

  The glob exploded outward. Pieces smacked into Troy and Chad.

  Mandy stood there, her dress stuck to her sweat-covered body, fingers squeezed into a pair of fists.

  “All right, it’s on,” she said, eyes blinking in the sudden light as she searched for Devon.

  Her eyes fell on him. He clasped his heart.

  “Oh,” she said, her face squelching in revulsion. “Sick.”

  “You made your force field expand outwards,” a meek voice said from behind them all.

  “Gibbie!” Troy said, and they all rushed to the geeky boy’s side. “You okay?”

  “A little woozy,” he answered.

  “It’s all right, buddy,” Troy said, picking him up. “We’re going to get you to a hospital, okay?”

  “Okay,” Gibbie said.

  Troy carried him to the door, still locked. Gibbie gave it a shove and it flew off its hinges. They walked through the empty gym, down the school’s deserted halls. They got to the front door, and from there heard the crackle of a speaker in the auditorium.

  “We are gathered here today to honor, and say goodbye to, one of our own.”

  It was Coach Lenwick who spoke.

  Troy looked towards the memorial longingly.

  “It’s okay,” Mandy said. She took Gibbie’s arm and put it around her shoulder.

  “I can stand,” he said to Troy, and he set his younger brother down.

  “I’ll take him to emergency,” Mandy said.

  Still, Troy hesitated.

  “He was your best friend,” Chad s
aid, “and more. You should be in there.”

  Troy nodded.

  “Thanks, guys,” he said. There were tears in his eyes.

  He opened the auditorium doors and, with a final look at the others (Gibbie gave him a thumbs-up), walked in.

  “You coming?” Mandy asked Chad. He still wore only the pair of silver Speedos.

  “I think I’d like to hear this,” he answered, standing on tiptoe

  so he could see through the window in the auditorium door.

  “Well, buddy,” she said to Gibbie, “I guess it’s just you and me.”

  “Chad,” Gibbie said.

  “Yeah,” he replied.

  “Before we go, could I just…could I have one kiss?”

  Chad looked at his bedraggled form.

  “Yeah, I think I can set that up.”

  He came over, intending to just give Gibbie a peck on the lips, but as he leaned in and saw Gibbie’s big eyes behind his thick glasses, he knew better. He could never love Gibbie the way he deserved to be loved, but as their lips met, he nibbled, and even gave the small boy a flick of tongue.

  “Thanks,” Gibbie said, a dreamily content look on his face.

  “No problem,” Chad replied.

  “And here.” He pulled out the Barbie journal from his satchel and handed it to Chad. “I guess you might want this back.”

  Chad took it, a quizzical look on his face.

  “Uh, this isn’t mine.”

  “Yeah right,” Mandy scoffed. But a moment later, “Oh my God, you’re not kidding. Well then, whose is it?”

  They all looked back to the auditorium, to where Troy was getting up onstage.

  “Well I’ll be,” Mandy murmured. “That boy is just full of surprises.”

  She turned and gently led Gibbie towards the door. “Let’s get you stitched up.”

  Chad looked down at Troy’s Barbie journal, and propped the door open a bit so he could hear the jock’s speech.

  “I suppose you’re wondering why I look like such a mess,” Troy said to his schoolmates and teachers. He gazed down at himself, at his ripped suit covered in bits of what was left of Jesse.

  “Like the walking dead,” Chad said, wiping a bit of Jesse off himself.

  The crowd murmured and the staff kept exchanging worried glances. Principal McGee mopped his forehead with a handkerchief. Coach Lenwick was stone-faced, but gave Troy an encouraging nod. At the very back of the room, from behind a door opened a smidge, Chad hugged himself nervously.