The room seemed vaguely familiar, but everything was distorted, out of proportion. His bedroom ceiling stretched upward and narrowed to a point that let in a shaft of weak light. The window was missing, but the bed and other furniture were mostly in the right places. He was sitting on his bed, flipping through an assortment of comic books, looking for the right one. But he wasn’t quite sure which one it was, and the piles around him kept growing as if they were boiling up from the mattress.
A small crack of light showed under the closed door. Something small, perhaps the size of an eraser, crawled under it. As it moved toward him it appeared to grow larger, until he could see that it was a spider.
He wasn’t afraid of spiders. In fact, sometimes in the summers he’d catch daddy longlegs and let them stalk around his hands and arms. Grandma had told him not to kill spiders, even when they crawled into the basement, because they preyed on mosquitoes and other unwelcome insects.
Yes, that’s what it was, a daddy longlegs, but a bigger one than he’d ever seen before. He idly wondered how big it would get as it advanced toward the bed.
The spider’s movement started to look jerky. As each leg thrust forward, it got longer and the body tilted at a crazy angle. The hair on Danny’s arms bristled as the spider grew bigger than a mouse, then bigger than a cat, and then bigger than a wolf. It kept on growing and kept on coming.
Now it was halfway across the room, and its melon-sized head was even with the mattress. The top joint of its legs was level with his eyes. The spider’s pace slowed, but with each deliberate step it doubled in size.
Danny’s heart began to pound as he scrambled backward across a sea of heaving comic books. He clutched at the blankets and pulled them around his throat.
But there was no hiding. The spider was very close now, and Danny stared up in horror at the feelers dangling above its eight lidless eyes. A pair of hanging jaws as long as his arm started clicking open and shut, open and shut. The spider’s putrid breath smelled of burning rubber and hot tar.
Danny shoved off the wall and propelled himself between the spider’s legs. The hair on its abdomen raked his skin. He could hear the spider’s jaws snap shut on his pillow, sending feathers flying.
He ran for the door but it had disappeared. His eyes rolled wildly as he searched for a way out, but the room was a prison.
The spider spun around and stood, staring, its jaws clicking open and shut, open and shut. Danny backed up until he hit the wall, his palms splayed out at his sides.
The spider lifted two front and two back legs at the same time. Its head and four front legs moved to the left. Its abdomen and four back legs moved to the right. It had split in two.
The head stayed where it was, jaws clicking, as the abdomen began stalking him. Danny scrambled along the wall until he wedged himself into the corner and could go no further. Still, the abdomen came at him, its crusty black casing studded with spikes, its claws banging the floor with each step. It approached the wall and then drew up to the boy, trying to force him out of the corner. Its needle-sharp spikes pulsed closer and closer, threatening to impale him. When the abdomen lunged at him from the side, he shot forward, straight into the waiting jaws of the spider’s head.
Danny bolted upright in the bed and screamed, his chest heaving and his hair soaked with sweat. He clawed his way through the blankets and streaked for the door, his eyes rolling as he looked for an escape route. He found the door handle and slapped it down, but it wouldn’t open. Blood pounded in his ears. He sank to the floor and gasped for breath. Seconds ticked by. He didn’t know how many. Nothing in the room was moving, and he gradually understood it was all a nightmare. He ached for Buddy. He longed to have the dog lick the tears off his face and rub his warm body into Danny’s, to jingle the sweet music of his dog tags in Danny’s ears.
Chapter 16
Wednesday
Knock-knock-knock. Pause. Knock-knock-knock. He rubbed his eyes, loosening crusty bits along the lashes and at the corners. Where was he? What time was it? He looked uneasily around the room and then remembered where he was and why he was there.
He glanced at his watch. 10:15.
Knock-knock-knock. “Open the door. It’s me.”
The voice was unmistakable. Sgt. Sandhu’s.
Danny briefly considered not answering. But the only way out was through that door, so he might as well open it now.
He twisted the key and the bolt slid back. Sgt. Sandhu, wearing casual clothes, stood in the doorway. It was Wednesday, the day Danny’s soccer team used to practice. Sgt. Sandhu’s day off.
The police officer held a grocery bag in one hand and a paper bag full of doughnuts in the other. He stayed in the hall and offered the bags. “Fresh clothes. And some breakfast. I’ll meet you downstairs in twenty minutes.” His voice was purposeful, like his coaching voice at soccer practices. Danny took the bags and shut the door.
Thirty-five minutes later he appeared in the lobby. He’d pulled his cap down over wet hair.
Sgt. Sandhu was chatting with the new volunteer, Dave, a muscular young man now behind the counter. “Ah, here he is,” said Sgt. Sandhu, rising from his chair. “We’ll let you get back to work, Dave. Thanks.”
He led Danny down the sidewalk. This time he’d come in his own vehicle, a candy-apple red pickup truck, starting to show rust around the wheel wells. The fenders had a couple of scratches and dents that he’d never repaired. At soccer practice, he had called it his bachelor buggy – the thing he’d spent all his time and money on before he got married and had twin daughters. “I used to think cars were important,” he’d said.
Danny plopped onto the passenger seat and dropped the plastic bag on the floor. Before Sgt. Sandhu started the truck, he turned to the boy.
“Everyone was worried about you.”
Good.
“We’re all relieved you’re safe.”
Right.
“But we have to go back to the NIVA office.”
Danny tugged down his cap even more, crossed his arms, and examined his runners. Sgt. Sandhu tuned the radio to a local pop station. He didn’t nag Danny to fasten his seatbelt.
Same building, same elevator, same intercom. Inside Phil’s office, Mom, Jen, Phil, and a woman Danny guessed was Dr. Sung were waiting.
Sgt. Sandhu greeted everyone and Catherine started to rise. The police officer made a subtle hand motion and she sat again.
Danny took the farthest chair. He hadn’t thought about his sister at all. Her shoulders were hunched forward as if she were in the principal’s office, waiting for a punishment. He’d been so caught up in his own feelings, he hadn’t considered how all of this was affecting her. Mother and daughter sat side by side, but it was as if an invisible wall of ice separated him from them.
“Welcome, everyone,” Dr. Sung said. “Now that we’re all here, I’d like to explain how everything is going to unfold. You’ll be making a number of choices today. There are a lot of decisions to make before tomorrow.”
Danny’s eyebrows arched under his cap. Tomorrow? He hadn’t even processed what happened yesterday; how could something be decided by tomorrow?
“Giving you new identities means making quite a few changes to your past,” Dr. Sung continued, “but some things can stay the same. For example,” she said, looking first at Jennifer and then at Danny, “your school marks won’t change, but it’ll look like you went to a different school. That goes for your medical records too – same details, different doctor.”
She addressed Catherine. “Things are a little more complicated for you. You’ll get a new social insurance number, but we can’t duplicate your employment history. School and medical records are one thing – usually, nobody checks them. But if you apply for a job, a new employer will want to check your references, and we can’t risk someone finding out your employment history is faked. What education do you have?”
“Two years of community college, in office management.”
“And your job h
istory – how old were you when you were married?”
“Twenty-three.”
“Twenty-three.” She pursed her lips. “Hmm, I think it would be better if you didn’t finish high school. That way no one will expect to see a diploma. We’ll say you didn’t work after you got married, and before that you worked in retail sales – department stores, convenience stores, as a waitress. That kind of thing.”
“But how will we support ourselves when we get there? I haven’t worked since Christmas, and all our savings are gone.”
“I’ve been working with your divorce lawyer on that. I know you don’t have any savings left, but you do have a nice house full of furniture we can sell. You also have two cars, and Paul has the insurance business. Your lawyer’s pretty sure she can convince a judge it would be fair that he keeps the business and the SUV and you keep the house, its contents, and the car. She thinks your share of the matrimonial property settlement will be worth about four hundred thousand dollars. We can sell your things and that’ll give you enough money to start a small business in your new location. I can handle all of that for you, and until that happens, the NIVA program will give you enough money to get by.”
Catherine’s voice was flat. “You mean social assistance?”
Dr. Sung nodded. “Yes. But hopefully not for too long. You won’t be as comfortable as you are now, but you won’t need assistance for very long, either.”
Catherine leaned back. “What about child support?”
“Well, that part’s not so good. We have a Maintenance Enforcement program, but it can’t guarantee your anonymity. Also, paying child support would mean that Paul would be entitled to some information about you, your income, the kids’ education, whether they are even alive. It’d be a thread tying you to your past. We can’t risk it.”
Catherine pressed her lips together. “That’s not something I’d thought about.”
“I’m afraid there are going to be quite a few things you haven’t thought about.”
Dr. Sung made notes on her clipboard. “You need to understand you’re not going to get any official papers about these things, like a job history.” She pointed to the questionnaire. “This is just for your family’s use, so when questions come up about your past you have an agreed-upon story. Now, what about locations? Is there any place that you’ve always wanted to live?”
“Well, Paul and I talked about moving to Victoria. We both like the climate.”
“Then that’s one place you can’t go, because he’ll look for you there. So we should be thinking about sending you in the other direction. We can relocate you to a small town, but it’s easier to slip in unnoticed in a bigger community. How about Regina, or Winnipeg?”
Danny had never been to Regina or Winnipeg, but everyone said they were cold. Windy Winterpeg.
“Well…” said Catherine, looking around for help. “I don’t know…”
“Okay,” said Phil. “Then let’s talk a bit about where you’re going to be from. We usually pick a city similar in size and climate to the one you’re in now. Saskatoon is like Edmonton. It’s on a branch of the same river, and we’ve used it for relocations before. You’ll have enough general information that you can bluff your way through basic questions – what the surroundings look like, and how the seasons are.”
“Okay,” said Catherine uncertainly.
“All right,” said Phil. “If we agree that you’ll be from Saskatoon we should move you farther away than Regina. Since they’re both in the same province, too many people will know Saskatoon and that could get you into trouble. So, I suggest we relocate you to Winnipeg.”
“Well, if that’s what you think…” said Catherine.
“Okay,” said Phil. “We’ll start organizing our paperwork on the basis that your family is moving from Saskatoon to Winnipeg.”
“I’ve never been to Winnipeg,” Catherine said, massaging the scar on her hand. “How – how will I manage?”
“You’ll manage fine,” replied Sgt. Sandhu. “You’ll manage just fine because you’ll be alive.”
Chapter 17
Wednesday
“Now, let’s pick some new birthdays,” the psychologist continued. “Jen, what’s your birthday now?”
“September the first.”
“Well, we don’t want complications with the school year, so you need another birth date around then so you’re still in the right grade.”
“But I’d like to have it when school’s on, so I can have parties with the class, like the other kids.”
Dr. Sung smiled. “Sure thing.” She turned to Catherine. “What day of the week was she born?”
“It was a Wednesday.”
“Then we’ll stick with Wednesday – it’s one less detail to be confused about later.” She consulted a notebook. “June, 1993. The Wednesdays are the 2nd, 9th, 16th, 23rd, and 30th.”
“June 9th,” said Jennifer.
“The 9th it is,” Dr. Sung replied, writing the date on her clipboard. “Catherine?”
“I was born March 12, 1963. It was a Tuesday,” she said ruefully. “Mom always said I was full of grace.”
“Another Tuesday nearby would be –” she flipped through her notebook. “How about February 26th?”
“Sure.”
“And Danny?”
“June 13, 1989,” replied Catherine. “Also a Tuesday.”
“So maybe another Tuesday in June?”
“What about April Fool’s Day?” Danny interjected. “Maybe that was a Tuesday.”
All eyes looked at him.
“Let’s go with June 20th, Dr. Sung said. “Okay?”
Danny shrugged. All of this is about someone else, he thought. How can I have a different birthday? Birthdays had always been so happy. His mom had told him and his sister how she’d loved birthday parties when she was growing up, and she wanted them to grow up with memories they could treasure too. And they had been good birthdays.
Now he was going to have two birthdays. And he wouldn’t be celebrating either of them.
“The hardest part,” Dr. Sung said, “is new names.”
Danny looked at the others, seeking some clue as to how to act, how to react. Dr. Sung had on her professional face, and Phil looked sympathetic but firm. Jennifer seemed bewildered and grabbed her mother’s hand. Catherine’s face drooped. None of it was helpful to Danny, who was starting to feel like an orphan.
Phil cleared his throat. “We recommend you change all three names – first, middle, and last. The middle name is negotiable. You can keep it, but it’s better if there’s a clean break. You might want to keep the same initials, though. So let’s start with last names. We suggest something fairly simple. It makes it easier to blend in.”
“Can I go back to my unmarried name?” Catherine asked.
“No,” Phil replied. “Too obvious. Let’s keep the same initial, M. What about Mayer?”
“Mayer,” repeated Catherine, trying it on like a change of clothes. “It’s okay with me.”
Dr. Sung took over. “Most people find their first name is the most difficult. Usually, your nicknames or pet names are related to your first name. Catherine, what do you call your children?”
She looked at Jennifer. “I usually call her Jewel.” She turned her gaze to her son. “And Danny is Danny-boy.”
“Okay. Jennifer, you might be able to keep the same nickname if you choose a name with that J sound – maybe Julia, or Judy, or Juliet. Then your mom can still call you Jewel and neither of you will have to think to use your new name each time.”
Phil turned to Danny. “Yours is a bit tougher because your nickname has your real name in it. Maybe you can think of something similar – David maybe, and your mom can call you Davey-boy.”
Danny looked at Phil, his face blank. I might as well be a character in a science fiction book. You pick out your new life the way you choose vegetables at the store: one bin labeled NAMES, another BIRTHDAYS, and a rack of FAMILY TREES. Squeeze them and weigh them
and take your favorite ones to your new home. The price? Well, you pay with your past.
Danny leaned back. “This,” he said, “is nuts. There’s no way I’m changing my name. I won’t.”
“I’m sorry,” Phil said, “but this is going to happen, even though you don’t want it or like it. You’ll be happier in the future if you take part in this decision. Otherwise, we’ll have to pick for you, and that’s just not a good idea.”
“I want to keep my initials,” Jennifer said. “I like them. Jennifer Elaine McMillan. I’ll take Julia. And maybe Erin as a middle name.”
“Those are…nice, Jewel,” Mom said. She turned to Danny. “I don’t want to keep my initials…I think it would be better for me that way…I’ve been thinking about Susan. Susan Louise. But I think you should keep your initials too, Danny. Okay?” Both Jen and Catherine looked at Danny.
“No problem,” he replied. “I’ve already decided. My name is Daniel Paul McMillan.”
Catherine closed her eyes and bowed her head. She looked up at him and half-whispered, “Please. I don’t want to do all this and have to fight you, too.”
“We could look in a phone book…” Jennifer suggested.
Yeah, right, thought Danny. Now I’m going to pick my life out of a phone book.
Dr. Sung smiled at Jennifer.
“I kind of like Perry as a middle name,” Catherine suggested softly. “Would Perry be okay with you?”
“Fine.”
“And I think David is a good choice, given what they’ve said about nicknames.”
Everyone waited, but he didn’t reply.
Phil changed the subject. “Let’s talk about Paul,” Phil said. “His full name is…”
“Paul Frederick McMillan.”
The Second Trial Page 8