by Jeff Vrolyks
He took a deep, relieved breath.
* * *
I gave the attendant two twenties and filled the gas tank of the hungry twelve-cylinder beast. I had been upgraded all week long, going from a truck to a classic mustang convertible, to a brand new Cobra convertible, and finally to a top-end Bimmer—to those of you who pronounce them Beamers, consult with your local Kraut to verify that it’s indeed Bimmer. The car was all switches, supple leather and wood inside, silky silver on the outside.
Holly exited the food mart with two bottles of water and a tear rolling down her cheek. She was remembering Sue Ellen. When she retook her seat she began sobbing; she has the most pitiful, heart-wrenching sob, painful as hell to listen to. A scratching sound stole both our attentions. It originated from the trunk. I holstered the gas nozzle and went to rear of the car, put an ear against the trunk.
Pffft Pffft
Holly joined me at the rear and watched as I opened the trunk. I don’t know what I was expecting—perhaps Keith scratching his head and asking how he got inside the trunk—but I definitely didn’t expect to see a wolf smiling at me, the same way you don’t expect mashed potatoes to become a whole potato. But it wasn’t Jack or Peaches. It was the only wolf of the bunch who had a white bib on her chest. As was to be expected, Holly livened up, was truly beamish. I stroked the nape of the wolf. Her coat was tremendously hot, nearly too hot to touch. I opened the door behind the driver’s and gave her a whistle summons. She peeked outside before lunging out and darting into the backseat of the car.
“There are no others,” Holly whispered, “just the two stiffs.”
The drive to my Vacaville apartment was less somber than it might have been. I judge that Holly would have sobbed the entire trip if it wasn’t for our new passenger. She had me pull into a Wendy’s drive-thru and order the wolf hamburgers and an empty chili bowl. Holly poured a bottle of water in it. The wolf eagerly ate all four burgers and drank the full bottle in one sitting. Holly refilled the bowl and she drank that, too.
“She wolfed them down,” Holly remarked and didn’t find the humor in what she said. She was in her own little world once again. The power of pets. The amazing power of these animals.
I wasn’t looking forward to Holly seeing my apartment for the first time. She wasn’t accustomed to living in humble quarters, but she was sweet enough to tell me she liked it. Her favorite thing was my Ansel Adams picture of Half Dome, Yosemite, hanging on the living room wall. The wolf observed the place with as much interest as Holly. The apartment was small and simple: kitchen, living room, hallway with a bathroom, bedroom, and closet. I showed her the bedroom next. Before she asked, I explained the mirrored sliding closet doors. There was newspaper taped over every inch of all three giant panes. The mirror in the bathroom was also covered in newspaper.
“I’ve been seeing something in mirrors. I first saw it in my bathroom on the night of the fire, then at Greg’s the same night. I’ve been seeing it ever since. It scared the hell out of me, but when I realized I could only see it through the mirror, that it wasn’t actually in my room—or if it was, I couldn’t see it—I got over it. I just covered the mirrors and that fixed it. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I thought it was a hallucination induced from the narcotics prescribed to me.” Now I knew better, thanks to Sue Ellen in the RV. I still hadn’t told Holly the most important thing that Sue Ellen had said, that they (whoever they are) wanted to prevent us from having a child. I’m not sure why I hadn’t told her yet, but I hadn’t.
“You should have told me. What does it look like, and do you see it every time you look in a mirror?”
“I never allowed myself to get a good look at it. It’s black, tall, and no, I don’t see it every time I look. I even saw it in a reflection on the chrome toaster. I put it under the sink; to hell with toast.”
“What about at my brother’s? His mirrors aren’t covered.”
“I saw it when I first arrived, and closed my eyes or squinted every time after. Apparently I’m the only one who can see it. I tried to get Mike to see it the other day, and he was looking right smack where the thing stood through the mirror, but saw nothing.”
“You should have told me. It worries me.” She found the phone on my counter. “Mind if I use your phone? I’m going to call Alison or Kloss to see what’s happening.”
“Sure. Turn the ringer on, too. In case they try to call.”
“All right.” She took the phone. “Why do you leave the ringer off?”
“Prank calls. Lots and lots and lots of prank calls. I let all calls go to the answering machine now.”
“Prank calls?”
“I didn’t tell you about those, either.”
“I don’t even know who you are, Mr. Kevin Reed.”
“I don’t like to burden people with my problems. Again, I thought it was all in my head. But not at first. They started the day after we met, when I got home from work; although they may have started when I got back from the restaurant. I took sleeping pills and crashed-out till the next morning. In my dream the phone kept ringing, over and over.”
“Who has been calling?”
“I don’t know. It was a phone operator saying I had a collect call. I barely made out what the caller was saying. I thought it was best, but it was death.”
“Oh my God.”
“Yeah, and when Alison said the Ouija Board was spelling death, it really scared the shit out of me.”
“Did Ali tell you how she knew that? She said magnetic alphabet tiles fell off the fridge and spelled death.”
“No, I didn’t know that,” I said. But it didn’t surprise me in the least. “I wonder why death. Why’d they say death on the phone and spell death with the tiles. To what gain? To what end? Seems to me that if they wanted to scare the shit out of me, that’s the single word more capable of striking fear into a man’s heart than any: death. A scare tactic. Maybe that’s all it’s been. But who, and why?”
“Isn’t it a coincidence that this bullshit started when we met.”
“Yes.” I remembered again what Sue Ellen had said in the RV. “The thing with the phone calls, I thought it was all in my head because when Mike came over and the phone rang, he didn’t hear it. Just as he didn’t see the thing in the mirror. I honestly thought I was going insane. He answered the phone when I said to: nobody was on the line.”
“How odd.”
“There’s more. I turned the ringer off. A little while later, the phone rang.”
“Well if it’s in your imagination, turning the ringer off wouldn’t matter.”
“It wasn’t odd that it rang, it was odd that the moment I remembered turning the ringer off, the phone stopped ringing. The next day Mike and I were at the deli getting a sandwich and the moment we entered, the phone rang. I assumed it wasn’t really ringing, but that I heard it ringing worried me. It worried me because it was becoming harder and harder to refute the idea that I was losing my mind. While Mike and I were eating, the phone actually rang for real. The ring had a different sound than the imaginary ones preceding it.”
“Because it wasn’t your imagination.”
“That’s right. The man behind the counter answered it. But when he hung up, I heard it ring again, only this time it rang in its proper tone, and he didn’t answer it because he couldn’t hear it. From then on, the phone wouldn’t stop ringing—in my head, at least.”
“That’s so bizarre. Maybe it’s from the car accident, your concussion.”
“No, it started before that.”
“Do you still hear it ringing?”
“No, thank God. It stopped.”
“When? Did you hear it ring at my brother’s house?”
“It did ring at your brother’s and it was there that I decided to make an appointment with a doctor when I got home. I wasn’t sure whether I should see a medical doctor or a shrink. But it didn’t matter because it stopped.”
“When?”
“I haven’t heard it since... si
nce the night we made love. I knew it was wonderful sex, but it K.O.’d my insanity, too. You’re that good, sweetheart.”
She became pensive. I asked her the matter.
“Why did it stop then? How about the apparitions in your mirrors? You haven’t checked since we’ve slept together, correct?”
“I guess I haven’t. I avoid them altogether.”
“Take down the newspaper. Let’s see.”
I peeled back a corner and looked around the room through the mirror and saw no apparition. I tore the rest of it off and gave it some more time: nothing. I went to the bathroom and repeated there with the same result. I was both stupefied and relieved. It would be nice to shave in front of a mirror again.
The wolf was following us around like a puppy. I’m more of a cat person than a dog person, but I took an instant liking to this one, even more so than the others. Maybe it was because she showed me love that the others hadn’t. She didn’t act condescending, either (I know, a peculiar thing to call an animal). She was smaller than the others, the size of a Labrador, and I thought the white patches of fur made her look more like a dog than a wolf.
“I guess the hallucinations are gone too. Like I said, it was some good sex.”
She pet the wolf with me. “What should we name this cutie?”
“Nawien.”
Holly hummed contemplatively. “I kind of like it,’ she said. “It’s different. A little out there in left field, but I like it. Maybe you’re right about naming, I’ll concede to that.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I like Nawien, it’s a cute name. Nawie for short. It’s unique, and she’s unique. Let’s set up water and food dishes. Do you have anything here she can eat or do we need to go to the store?”
“Holly, what are you talking about? Are you suggesting Nawien was my idea?”
“Of course, weirdo. Why else would you say it.”
Nawien’s eyes jumped back and forth between us.
“I didn’t. You suggested Nawien, not me. I would never think of a name like that. Sounds Elvish or something. Lord of the Rings.”
Holly smiled. “It’s cute. It’s growing on me already.”
“It’s the best name you’ve come up with yet.”
“Me? I didn’t come up with it. You did.”
Nawie chuffed.
Holly took a seat on the couch, patted her knee and Nawien came. In the kitchen I selected two bowls, one which would stay empty until we went shopping. The other I filled with tap water and returned to the living room, sat beside Holly. Holly was now petting Nawien with tears in her eyes. I figured it was best to say nothing.
“We should visit Pea Willy in the hospital soon,” she said. “I can only imagine what he’s going through.” She wiped her eyes. “Shit, I forgot I was going to call my brother.”
When she dialed home, the machine picked up. She left a message. “Oh wait, he has a mobile phone now. Hand me my purse, please.” I handed her purse and from her wallet she found a sticky-note and dialed the number on it.
“Yeah, it’s me,” Holly said. “What’s going on over there?... Yes, I’m fine. They’re in the trunk still.” She paced in the kitchen. “No, just Keith and the woman. Hmm, I don’t know what to tell you, they weren’t in the trunk. But you know what? There was a wolf in the trunk, but she’s not Jack or Peaches and she’s very much alive.” The tears stopped. “How should I know? She was there when we opened it. Good thing, too, the cops thought it was a smelly dead dog and left us alone. Yeah. Don’t worry about it, it turned out all right. The cops didn’t see them because Nawien was in front, playing dead. She’s a good actor, Kloss.” She knelt and extended her hand: Nawien hurried to her. I wondered if she’d do that for me. I judged she would, she was a sweet animal. “Kevin named her that. Cute, huh?”
I exhaled exasperatedly. Holly flipped me off, but her smile diminished the meanness of the gesture.
“And let me tell you something, buster,” she said crossly, “why would you put such a stupid bumper sticker on your car? That almost fucked us. Which one? The only one! Friends help you move, real friends help you move bodies. Yeah right,” she said thickly. “Then who, Alison?” Holly stepped to my fridge and had a look-see, snatched the last bottle of water. “All right, I guess.” She dumped the existing bowl of water in the sink. “Anyway, how’s Pea Willy?” She poured the bottled water into the dish. “Uh huh.” She gestured a thumbs up at me. “Great, that’s wonderful news. I’m just heartbroken for him.”
“Would you ask him if Mike’s coming over?” I said.
She nodded. “I will… we will. What’s it like over there, hundreds of cops?... Geez, he told the cops that? That asshole. I’m glad you didn’t give him a dime for those pictures. You should tell the cops he extorted you and knew about the dead guy at the river. They don’t know about that? Good thing we aren’t on speaker phone. Yeah, probably not a good idea. What’s going to become of it? Are the cops taking him seriously?... Yeah, no kidding. He’s a friggin’ paparazzi photographer. Lowest form of life on the planet.” She sat the bowl down for Nawien. “What the hell am I supposed to do with them?... Are you kidding me? Do Kevin and I look like the type of people who know the type of people who would dispose of bodies?”
I left the couch, stood behind Holly and wrapped my arms around her waist. Sure was nice having two working arms again.
“Fine,” she said grudgingly, stroking my forearm. “How many people died, do you know?... Fifteen? What do you mean… three more just down the road?” Holly gasped. “They did? Oh my God, how horrible. His wife?” She gasped again. “Aww, that’s so sad.” She was crying again. “Okay, I’ll let you go then. Is Alison around?... Okay, you have this phone number now, right? Yes, I should be here if you call. Love you too.” She put the phone to her chest and said, “Fifteen plus they killed three more down the street. Eighteen people,” she said grimly.
“Hi, Ali.” She closed her eyes, displacing tears. “I know. How are you holding up?... You and Mike should head over.” Her eyes opened. “What time?... Great, we’ll be here. I’ll catch a ride home with you.” She nodded. “No, Kloss didn’t tell me that; makes sense, though. All right, see you soon. Bye.” She hung up.
“The concert tour is postponed indefinitely.”
“I bet.”
“Kloss doesn’t want me staying there anymore. I don’t have a place to live. It’s for my own safety. If people are looking for me, they know where they can find me. Need a roommate?”
“A soul mate for a roommate. Sounds too good to be true.”
“I’m your soul mate?” She registered more doubtful than delighted.
“Aren’t I yours?”
“No, you’re just my playmate,” she said.
“Ah, good’ay mate! Pass the Coffee Mate for my steaming bean!”
She grinned feebly and pecked my cheek, then gave Nawien her half-hearted attention. I don’t pretend to be a mind reader, but when the writing is on her face it’s as plain as day: Eighteen people died today in my name. Inside her mind, a resentful eleven-year-old girl was at the wishing well again.
* * *
The news was on every major channel. The news anchors and reporters on location were beside themselves, heralding the news in that familiar tone reserved for monumental disasters: a high monotone with almost no breath between sentences. They all shared the same helicopter footage, shown either picture-in-picture or inserted sporadically between ground shots of the police-barricaded property gate. Their two favorite shots seemed to be the car parked just outside the gate with a Sacramento County Coroner’s Office crest emblazoned on the door, and ambulances leaving the premises, sirens screaming and lights spinning.
Wild theories and conjecture flew like the gunfire preceding them. News people were all on the bandwagon that Vacaville’s Cattlemen Ranch fire a week prior, the fatal accident involving Kloss’s Hum-V, Serena the Slayer, and the three murders less than mile down the road all implicated Kl
oss and were part of a single story that they were hell-bent on uncovering. They hinted at conspiracies. Some theorized that the mountain lion attack that occurred nearby might be tied in to the story as well—they don’t have anything to back this theory up, but that never gets in the way of good journalism. All journalistic ethics went out the window, and the ratings would go through the roof. The reporting of facts took a back seat to punditry.
It was nearing seven P.M., roughly three hours following the massacre, and Mike and Alison were due to arrive any minute. Exhausted from lack of sleep, Holly and I were on our second pot of coffee. Holly had taken both of our mugs to the kitchen to get refills as I sat on the couch in front of the TV with Nawien at my feet. “Did you turn the ringer on earlier?” I asked.
“Oh yeah. Sorry. I’ll do it now.” I heard the clink of the carafe back into the coffee maker. “Oh my God. You have thirty-three messages on your answering machine.” Instantly the phone rang. “Can I answer it? Might be my brother.”
“Yeah, go for it. It’s probably Greg or Chris or someone from work. If so, tell them I’m not here at the moment.”
“All right.” She answered. “Hello?... This is a friend of Kevin’s, may I ask who’s calling? Chris, he stepped out. May I take a message?... Sure, I’ll have him call you at Greg’s when he returns. Goodbye.”
I chuckled at the transparency of my friends. I could almost hear their conversation now: “I don’t think he was there, I know he was there! He hangs out with Kloss’s sister all the time. In fact, rumor has it that they are engaged or maybe even married. Imagine that, his brother-in-law is Kloss VonFuren! And she lives at Kloss’s house, so you know she would be there during his party, which means Kevin would be there during the party. How much you want to bet that Kevin saw people’s brains get blown out today? Heck, I’m not convinced that Kevin wasn’t one of ‘em! He didn’t answer the phone and some chick said he stepped out; coincidence? I think not! Stepped out? More like checked out, permanently!”