The smell of breakfast cooking awaited him.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” He asked Jaimie as she stacked pancakes on a plate.
“I took the day off. I thought, maybe I should be available. You know, in case…”
“I go postal at school?”
She gave him a strained smile. “I just thought if you decided that it was too soon to be back at school, you might appreciate a friendly face at home.”
Gwynn threw his arms around her. Her body stiffened with surprise, but then relaxed and she returned his embrace.
“Thanks, Jaimie.”
She sniffled. “Come on, are you telling me you don’t like having pancakes ready for breakfast?”
“Fresh cooked instead of nuked? Yeah, I’m not going to complain.”
Complaining around the warm, syrupy morsels stuffed in his mouth would've been impossible anyway. Jaimie gave him a warm smile. Her eyes fell on Gwynn’s gloved hand and her face hardened.
“Aren’t you going to get a hard time about that?”
“Better than people staring at the scars.”
“You don’t have to go in you know. Take a few more days off.”
Gwynn shook his head while he chewed. He swallowed loudly. “I’m going to have to go back eventually. Besides, I’ve got a few days of work to catch up on already. I don’t need to fall any further behind.”
“You’re hoping to see Sophia?” Jaimie wore a sly smile.
Gwynn caught her eyes for a moment, and then mumbled around a mouthful of pancake, “Maybe.”
With breakfast finished, Gwynn thanked Jaimie and grabbed his backpack.
“You want a ride?” She asked.
The offer tempted Gwynn—November had arrived wet and cold. But something in him wanted to feel the wind biting his skin. He wanted to smell the oncoming snow. Mostly, he didn’t want to arrive at school looking like an invalid.
“I’m good. Thanks.”
Despite the doubt that crossed her face, she didn’t press him.
“Anything you want for dinner?”
“Homemade breakfast and dinner in the same day? I should get blown up more often.”
Her face told him he shouldn’t joke, but he couldn’t help it. He had faced his mortality, and if he couldn’t laugh, if he couldn’t force it down into the dark places where the loss of his parents lived, he’d lose his mind.
“Sorry. I’m good with anything. I’ll trust you.”
She shook her head. Jaimie hated it when he was noncommittal.
“Have a good day Gwynn. If you want to come home—”
“I’ll call. Promise.”
Out in the morning air, the cold wrapped around Gwynn and prickled at the exposed flesh of his face. The grey sky cast odd shadows and washed out the finer details of the world. Dark clouds filled the sky. They filled him with a dread he couldn’t explain.
Gwynn arrived on the school grounds. Small pockets of students clung together in clumps, seeking shelter in each other’s company. Were they seeking shelter from the current chill or from the threat of something worse?
No one gave Gwynn a second glimpse. There were no whisperings, no fingers pointed. He moved through the halls, through his classes, like the phantom he had always been.
Lunchtime.
Nothing obvious about the cafeteria had changed, but it felt like a sinister energy undulated beneath the surface. Gwynn found his way to his seat. It still stood empty. Had it been sitting here waiting for him all this time? Would it still stand empty when he’d left this place behind?
He scanned the cafeteria for Sophia. He’d looked for her all morning. Laughter drew his attention to the far corner where Eric Haze held court with his cronies. Gwynn’s arm throbbed—partially due to how hard he clenched his fist. Gwynn was halfway to their table before being aware he’d even stood up.
He reached the table. Why was he here? Did he hope for some form of apology? Would Eric be remorseful? Would he tell Gwynn where to find Sophia?
All hopes shattered with the grin on Haze’s face. Still the hyena.
“Gwynn! Hey, how’s it going?”
Haze stood up and put his arm around Gwynn’s shoulders. Gwynn’s fist gripped so hard, only the glove prevented him drawing blood.
“You all remember our man Gwynn, right? The AH–MAAAAAH–zing exploding boy?”
The others didn’t know how to act. But when their lord and master belly laughed, they all soon joined in. Haze turned his malevolent eyes on Gwynn.
“Hey buddy, didn’t I tell you Halloween would be a blast?”
Eric flew to the ground, his nose a fountain of blood. In horror, Gwynn realized he had drawn back his fist to deliver another blow. Confusion, maybe even fear, had Eric’s cronies paralyzed. A tangible silence gripped the cafeteria. No one stirred. Their faces were a mixture of confusion and shock. Had the phantom unmasked himself?
One face he didn’t recognize. It wore an expression different from the others. Her long, straight brown hair framed a pale, heart–shaped face. Unlike the others, she showed no confusion. Her dark almond shaped eyes held determination and a readiness to act. His insides churned in ice. A huge shadow enveloped him. He tried to block the image from his mind, instead focusing on the dumbfounded Eric.
Something went wrong with his vision; Eric appeared blurry. At one moment, he appeared solid, the next, a phantom duplicate image appeared. The ghost moved out of sync with the solid version. While the solid Eric sat on the ground avoiding eye contact with Gwynn, the ghostly image locked its eyes on him. But the ghost had catlike eyes, and as it opened its mouth, a series of long teeth descended. The ghost tensed, and then it leapt at him. He threw his arms in front of his face to protect himself. When nothing happened, he lowered his arms to see Eric still sitting on the ground.
The eyes of the cafeteria weighed on him. The silence gave way to hushed murmurings. The girl he didn’t know, the one tensing for a fight, appeared as confused as everyone else. Gwynn’s right arm throbbed, a sharp hammer and nail pain pounded on his temples. Phantom echoes of everyone in the cafeteria appeared. The solid versions remained seated. Some of their ghostly counterparts laughed, while others growled and prepared to pounce and devour. Only the girl remained free of an echo. No ghost image of her moved or acted in ways opposite of Gwynn’s world.
His stomach lurched and he ran from the cafeteria, slamming hard into the doors, throwing them aside and fell into the closest washroom where his stomach gave a violent heave.
He fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone. He stared at the keypad for a while. “Should I? Shouldn’t I?” He didn’t want Jaimie to worry, didn’t want her to hear what he had done. He didn’t want to admit that she’d been right. He should’ve stayed home. He slid the phone back into his pocket and moved to the sink. The acrid taste of sick burned the back of his throat.
Cold water cleansed and soothed his mouth. Clean, simple, and pure. He splashed some on his face, hoping it would wash away whatever illness caused his head to sting and his arm to throb. Soon, he had to admit defeat. No amount of cold water could cool the burning of his flesh or soothe the deep aches.
A shadow moved.
He had caught a brief glimpse from the corner of his eye. A large, hulking mass that shifted from the wall and passed behind him. He took a hesitant glance in the mirror, but nothing was there except for his own, mad–looking, face. He made a slow three–sixty, and again, the shadow moved. It never remained in his direct vision where he could get a clear look. A bead of cold sweat burned down his neck. He threw himself against the wall, so that he could view the whole washroom. He saw nothing else.
Gwynn shut his eyes tight. He counted. Then he opened his eyes and returned to the sink. He tried to muster a sane and steady look in his eyes as he confronted the haggard young man in the mirror. “It’s just a dream, just stress. Some left over thing from when I got hurt.” He ran his hands down over his face. “Maybe I just need my eyes checked.” No one
offered a different opinion.
Gwynn groaned and shuffled out the door, colliding with an innocent passerby in the process.
“I’m sorry. I, I’m really, really sorry.” Gwynn said.
Intense dark almond shaped eyes probed him. Gwynn took several awkward steps back. The girl said nothing, just continued walking down the hall, hesitating a moment to give Gwynn the same glare he had seen in the cafeteria. A chill ran down his back.
He started down the hall, moving away from the chaos of the cafeteria. He had two choices, leave school, go home and hope the whole thing blew over. Or go to the office and face the consequences. He played the options in his mind for a few minutes. What would Jaimie have him do? There was only one choice. Gwynn made his way to the office.
7/ The Girl He Used to Know
Jaimie made a dash for the ringing phone.
“Hello?” She puffed.
“Hi Jaimie.”
The sound of his voice helped ease her nerves. “Hi Gwynn. How are things with Sophia?”
A long pause. Maternal fury burned her insides. If Sophia had hurt Gwynn further, if she had betrayed him, Jaimie would make the girl wish she were back in an exploding house.
“Sophia’s not here.” He sounded hurt. “Her dad says she’s in the hospital.”
Jaimie scolded herself silently for jumping to conclusions. “I’m sorry Gwynn. Were her injuries worse than they thought?”
“No, nothing like that. He says she’s in the psychiatric ward.”
“Oh my god. Gwynn, that’s awful.”
“Her dad says she keeps asking for me. He wondered if I could go see her tomorrow.”
“Maybe you should, but I can’t tomorrow Gwynn. I think I stretched my boss’ goodwill to its limit taking today off on short notice.”
“Sophia’s dad says I can go with him. Her mom’s spending her whole time at the hospital. I’d like to see her Jaimie. But I understand if you don’t want me to…”
Jaimie sighed and rolled her eyes toward the white ceiling of the kitchen. How did she deny him? Until his suspension today, he had never once given her a reason to be mad at him. And didn’t that Eric Haze deserve a smashed nose after his prank nearly got Gwynn and Sophia killed?
“Okay Gwynn, you can go. But I don’t want you being a burden. I’ll give you some cab fare so the Murrays don’t have to worry about driving you home. And I expect you to keep me informed throughout the day, deal?”
“Deal. Thanks Jaimie. I’ll tell her Dad and then I’ll be on my way home. Bye.”
Jaimie hung up the phone and focused on some distant point. What was happening? Until a week ago, their lives had been so normal. No excitement, no change, just a dependable existence. She and Gwynn had found a good balance of friendship and parenthood in their relationship. Gwynn had started to have more nights without nightmares than with. The kid had good grades; she had a steady job with decent benefits. They had a comfort zone. Now, that security slipped away. Her sister, her parents, they had all gone without warning. That taught her life does change in a matter of moments. She couldn’t shake the dread that one of those moments had come again.
§
Gwynn hadn’t slept.
Down the hall, Jaimie’s alarm clock sounded with an angry squawk. He threw on some pants and an old T–shirt and headed downstairs for something to eat.
From the kitchen table, Gwynn could trace Jaimie’s progress in getting ready for work. A few stumbling thumps after the alarm were her getting up. The pipes creaking with a sudden burst of water from the washroom. Then a constant hissing meant a shower. More thumps, their pace hurried from before, were her moving to the closet. He waited for the sound of her bare feet slapping against the wooden stairs. He smiled to himself. She moved with the grace of a peg–legged pirate.
“There’s a bowl of cereal here for you and some toast with jam.” Gwynn said.
“Thanks.” Jaimie stuffed the toast in her mouth and went to the powder room where she would fuss with her hair for a few more minutes.
She returned to the table and sat down, finishing the toast and working on the cereal.
“Are you sure you’re okay going with the Murrays?” She asked.
“I’ll be fine.”
Her eyes said she doubted him. “I left some money on the front hall table for you. It should be enough to buy some food and get a cab home. Don’t make the Murrays feel like they need to worry about you. They’ve got enough on their hands.”
Gwynn groaned. “I know Jaimie.”
Jaimie smiled. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t sleep too well.” After a brief appraisal of him she said, “Doesn’t look like you did either. I hope you don’t fall asleep on the poor girl.”
Jaimie would normally say something like that as a joke. This sounded humorless and biting.
“I won’t.” Gwynn snipped
Jaimie held her hands up in surrender. “I know, I know, that came out too harsh. I seem to be channeling my inner overbearing mother today.”
“And after I made you breakfast.”
Jaimie leaned back in her chair and rubbed at her temples.
“You’re right, I should relax. Things have just been so…strained. I’m just afraid everything’s falling apart.”
“Jaimie, I punched some asshole who deserved it. If it hadn’t been in the school no one would care.”
“Maybe. But that’s the thing. Since when do you punch assholes, whether they deserve it or not?”
“Well, it’s not like I’ve been blown up before.”
Even Gwynn winced at the growing annoyance in his voice. What was happening to him? When did his fuse get so short? Jaimie’s face showed she got the message.
“Okay, I’ll leave it alone. Just keep me in the loop. You’ve got my work number?”
“Yeah.”
She got up from the table and kissed him on the forehead. “Love you Gwynn. Sorry I’m getting all overprotective. Don’t want my favorite guy to get hurt, that’s all.”
Gwynn checked himself before answering. She loved him. That would be a lousy reason to attack her.
“I know. But geez Jaimie, sometimes I think you forget I’m almost eighteen.”
“Maybe I do. Almost a man. You’re right. I need to remember that. Have a good day Gwynn. I hope everything goes well.”
“Me too. Have a good day at work.”
“I will. Oh, and Gwynn?”
“What?”
Jaimie winked at him. “Thanks for the breakfast.”
Gwynn couldn’t help it, he laughed. “You’re welcome.”
With Jaimie gone, Gwynn dashed up the stairs for a shower and proper clothes.
He had just come back downstairs when the doorbell rang.
“Good morning Mr. Murray.” Gwynn said. Mr. Murray seemed dressed for a business meeting.
“Good morning Gwynn. Are you ready to go?”
“Yes sir.”
They drove to the hospital in silence. It struck Gwynn that Sophia’s father was not one to talk much. What kind of relationship did this man have with his daughter? Mr. Murray’s discomfort level seemed to rise with every step that brought them closer to the locked doors of the psychiatric unit.
Mr. Murray punched a code into a numeric pad beside the door. An orderly had them sign in and escorted them down the hall to a waiting area where an older woman sat staring out the barred window. The blond curls identified her as Sophia’s mother.
“It’s nice to meet you.” Mrs. Murray said. She smiled, but her eyes were tired.
“Thanks. Nice to meet you too.”
“The orderlies are just making Sophia…presentable. We should be able to see her soon.”
Mr. Murray cleared his throat. “Could I speak to you a second, Sweetheart? Privately.”
They went out into the hall and left Gwynn alone in the waiting room. The hospital had painted the room a pale green with soft fabric chairs bolted to the floor. There were no other pieces of furniture and nothing hanging on the w
alls. It felt cold and sterile. A disheveled stack of magazines, the newest of which being over a year old, seemed the single thing that gave the appearance of life. How could anyone’s mental health benefit from such stark surroundings? Minutes that Gwynn didn’t keep track of passed. The door opened and Mrs. Murray returned.
“They say we can go see Sophia now.”
Gwynn looked behind her. “Umm, where’s Mr. Murray?”
The question made her look flustered, maybe even angry. She recovered and attempted a weak smile. “He had an important meeting today. He appreciates you coming Gwynn, he just needs to keep working. I think it’s his way of coping.”
“Okay. Well, let’s go see Sophia.” Gwynn said it with enthusiasm, but it filled him with dread.
The orderly escorted them down the hall. They stopped and the orderly opened the door. Gwynn worked hard to compose himself. The walls had numerous drawings taped to them. There were monstrous images of creatures Gwynn had never seen, dark circles that spun inward to a dark point that frightened Gwynn more than most of the monsters. In the centre of the room, a small girl that had once been Sophia Murray rocked back and forth. Where once she had radiant blond curls, her hair now hung limp and dull. None of the life and vitality he had known Sophia to have lived within this shell. Gwynn understood why her father ran away to work. Seeing such vibrancy diminished was devastating.
“Sophia?” Mrs. Murray gently touched her daughter’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, you have a visitor. Gwynn is here to see you.”
Harbinger (The Bleeding Worlds) Page 6