by J. R. Brule
“Rudy.”
Their expressions changed, as they just now realized he was that kid—the one no one talked to.
“Beginner’s luck,” Pat said. “I want to go again.”
“Yeah, and let’s get Cooper in here, too,” Ben said. “Think you could beat him? No one beats Cooper Frank—except John Handley, of course.”
“Okay,” Rudy said. He felt damned good having sprinted; his entire body tingled. “Let me get some water.”As Rudy sipped, he had a strange thought.
What would happen if I did beat Cooper Frank?
The thought of making a name for himself, a good name, not one involving an arrested mother or some distant lunchroom memory, danced in his head like sugarplum fairies of possibility.
“Pat says you’re fast,” Cooper said when Rudy returned, his hair a sprout of brown curls. “He says you could beat me.”
Behind Cooper, hordes of peers moved like wild dancers.
“I don’t know about that.”
“What’s your fastest time?”
“I don’t know. Today is kind of my first day.”
Ben’s jaw dropped. “He’s a prodigy!”
“I call bullshit,” Pat said.
“Now, now,” Chuck said, coming between them, his signature windbreaker bodysuit swishing. “What do you say we settle this little tiff with a contest, hmm?”
“Good for me,” Cooper said. “What do you say, new guy?”
“Sure.”
Pat and Ben peeled back and Rudy went to the line. Cooper came up beside him and said, “That’s not even the correct stance.”
“I know,” Rudy said, not changing a thing.
Ben got more kids to watch, built them an audience.
“On your marks . . .” Chuck said.
Cooper raised his fanny. Rudy did not.
“Get set . . .”
Cooper took a few preemptive breaths.
Hfhhh . . . hfhhh . . . hfhhhh . . .
The whistle blew and echoed back off the walls.
Rudy exploded forward, getting that same half-second of air before his feet touched ground. His leg muscles flared, followed by a shiver up his abdomen. His hands chopped the air, and his eyes focused on the orange-coned finish line. He powered forward, hearing Pat yelling, “Go Cooper, go!” and Ben screaming, “Go Rudy, go!”
A basketball arched high over them, and some more kids stopped to watch—a lot more kids. Rudy drew long breaths all the way to the end, finishing with flailing limbs. When he turned, he expected to see kids cheering, maybe running over to smack Cooper on the back in congratulations. And all of that would have been fine.
But they weren’t. Their jaws hung open. Chuck’s whistle was out of his mouth, dangling against his chest.
Rudy had won.
---
He was back in the woods in Tobermory, running as fast as he could, ducking under branches and vaulting over logs, having just ditched the cab. He felt euphoric, knowing he’d won against Cooper Frank, and knowing he’d escaped the cabbie safely. He never showed any ID, not even a flash of his license.
Everything felt like it was taking a turn for the better, like his life was suddenly improving all at once.
Like nothing could stop his snowball now.
18:
EVEN AFTER THE GROWTH, Julia somehow lost track of the kid. As soon as she got to his school, he disappeared. His presence vanished, not even leaving a puff of smoke.
She waited outside his house for him to come back, searching frantically with her Gift, wondering just where he could have gone. Surely someone so young and ignorant couldn’t fool her.
Yet here she was, in the night, alone and fooled. She extended the fingers of her powers, not caring if the father felt her, checking every contour and every impossible corner. But nothing . . . nothing. The kid was gone and she hadn’t the slightest idea where he’d gone to.
She threw her arms over her steering wheel, never fully giving into sleep. Every time she felt herself fading, she’d slap her own face, and the pain was enough to revitalize her. She kept it up all through the night, waiting for that little prick to come back and show himself again.
When the sun rose and the streetlights turned off, she began to worry. She thought he might never return from wherever he’d gone and that this venture was over. She’d have to go back to Texas after claiming two borderline retards, without ever getting what she came for.
And then he re-appeared—just like that. It was as if a shooting star flared her cerebral fluids, alerting her entire psyche to awaken.
He’s at school, she thought. But where the hell did he come from?
She started the car furiously, made an illegal U-turn that cut off an angry fat man. She used her Gift to strangle the man’s car battery.
Nothing would get in her way.
Halfway to the school, Rudy was gone again. She slammed on her brakes, pulled off to the side of the road and beat her steering wheel, screaming.
---
Look who’s in town, everybody. It’s me, Chad Stevenson. No applause, please, just sit back and continue living those hours you compile into lives. You won’t see me, I won’t see you, and I’ll be gone in a flash. Just came to steal and murder two Gifted, nothing to get up for.
Chad was outside Rudy’s school when he felt the kid wavering in and out of reality.
This a fine trick, Chad thought, pulling open the front door of Middleburg Elementary. I wonder if my invisible man knows I’m here. Maybe I should throw him a bone before wrecking this place. Or maybe not.
Claiming the fuck man would be a delight, a rare delicacy. And while Chad waited for the kid to return, there was always that woman to take care of, that Julia Frond, an appetizer to the main course.
Oh, the fun he’d have with her.
19:
UGLIEST FUCKER YOU’LL EVER meet.
Rudy needed to find the market, find Finch, for the re-stock.
And avoid black bears.
The heart of Tobermory was in a marina full of docks, quays, and boats, and every store was blatantly obvious. With names like BOOKSTORE, COFFEE, and FOODLAND, it didn’t take a genius to find the market.
Inside, behind the counter, was a man wearing a light blue polo with his collar only halfway folded. And boy was he ugly. His nose bent to one side like a lapel. He had a lazy eye that wandered around with the predictable path of a buzzing housefly. His lip was raised at one corner, giving the impression it’d been torn and sewn up again. His hair was a wispy collection of waxen blond strings, swirled together like soft-serve ice cream.
Rudy drew the yellow business card from his pocket and slapped it on the counter. “Finch?”
“That’s me.”
Rudy slid the card over. “I’m Mr. Kloom’s new associate. He sent me here.”
Finch’s mouth spread into a fantastically skewed smile. “Klum’s got another fingerman, eh? Well, you’re not the first and I doubt you’ll be the last. Come on with me,” he said, walking the length of the counter.
They went through a steel door, into a chilly room. Finch led Rudy past shipping boxes labeled PICKLED EGGS, MAYONNAISE, and SHAMPOO.
“I don’t put his product on the shelves,” Finch said. “It’s too expensive for the average man. Quality’s aboot the same, but Klum’s got a real talent for slinging shit.”
“What’s the difference, anyway?”
“Eco-friendly, these ones are. Here we go,” Finch said, opening another door. The room wasn’t as cold. The air was stale, and a lone fluorescent light illuminated six stacked boxes.
“Just six of them?”
“Yap. But don’t let that fool you. Each box has ten packages and each package holds eight rolls. So you’re looking at eighty rolls a box. That’s four-hundred and eighty eco-friendly rolls of toilet paper. Klum usually peddles about a box a week, so I figure this should last him a month and a half. But now that he’s got a new fingerman, well, we’ll see what you can do.” He laughed. “Wha
t’s your name, anyway?”
“Rudy.”
“Rudy, eh? Nice to meet you.” They shook. “Sorry in advance if I forget it. I’ve known eight of you in the past two years. My memory isn’t exactly as sharp as it used to be.” Finch’s lazy eye rolled up to the ceiling as he said this last bit. A blink restored its rightful position, but then it drifted off again.
“Got anything I can wheel these out with?”
“I got a dolly just over here.”
Rudy loaded three boxes, took them out to the marina, and waited at the docks. He didn’t see Mr. Kloom anywhere.
Said he’d be behind in time.
Two policeman casually approached Rudy, and his heart jumped up into his throat.
Oh man, the cabbie ratted me out. I’m screwed!
What will I tell Mr. Kloom?
But they passed him by without so much as a glance. They were engaged in such lackadaisical conversation that he almost mistook them for civilians. If it weren’t for their uniforms, anyone could have.
A wave of tourists had just come in from the ferry. They rubbernecked down the quay, ogling over the yachts, half the crowd with cameras slung around their necks. Rudy wheeled over and picked out a younger man who came alone.
“Just arrive?”
“Oh yeah, from the Chi-Cheemaun, down that way.”
“What is the Chi-Cheemaun?”
“A big boat. It eats up cars like a whale does fish. Came from Manitoulin. But I’m meeting my girlfriend so I have to be getting along. Good luck with your . . . ” He read the boxes Rudy carted. “Eco-Friendly TP. Going green, I like it.”
“Say hello to your girlfriend for me,” Rudy said, trying to be funny. But he thought it came off as arrogant.
Rudy heard his name called, and saw Mr. Kloom hanging off the boom of an approaching tiny sailboat, his suit flapping in the wind as he waved his arms in greeting. Then Rudy realized that the waving meant bad bad bad!
“For God’s sakes, you were supposed to cover up the labels! Do you want our idea stolen? Don’t you listen?”
Hi to you, too.
“I’ll cover the next load.”
“How many boxes were there?”
“Six, which is four-hundred and eighty rolls.”
“SIX? I ordered ten! Finchy boy is always bending me over like a dammed prosty.” Mr. Kloom hopped from his boat to tie a line around a cleat, leaving it unmanned. “You’d think he’d pay more attention, seeing as how I give him all the OxyContin his liver can handle. Did you know the man’s addicted? Addicted! And he gives me SIX boxes? What do you make of that?”
“We could put in another order now, sell these while they come.”
Mr. Kloom grunted as he knotted another line. “Don’t tell me about my business. But in this case, you’re right. Now load these boxes and get the others while I have a word with that SHIT-CONED Finch. Go grab some food when you’re done. You look starved, for God’s sakes. And don’t count on taxi fare from me. A foot in the door keeps away the poor, you’d be well to remember that.”
Mr. Kloom strutted away to the market as Rudy stepped onto the boat, which wobbled precariously. The rustic cabin had a musty odor and danced with spinning lights projected from a paper cube, giving the place a revolving glow that reminded him of a cheap carnival.
He went back to the market for the remaining three boxes, this time draping them with a dirty white blanket he found on the floor. There was shouting in the back of the store. Rudy carted the rest of the shipment back to the sailboat, and when he finished loading them, Mr. Kloom was there, in the boat with him, the rotating light making his face swim.
Didn’t feel him come on.
“Two days,” Mr. Kloom said.
“What?”
“That’s how long we’ve got to get you in shape.”
“In shape for what?”
“The mind trap. That is what we’re working to avoid.” Mr. Kloom shook his head. “Jesus. Don’t you know how many people are looking for you?”
“Looking . . . for me?”
“Yes. They want to kill you.”
20:
BEFORE RUDY COULD ASK Mr. Kloom about being killed, he was back in the gymnasium.
“You did it!” Ben yelled. “You beat Cooper Frank!”
“I can’t believe it,” Pat said. “You said you’ve never even run before?”
Rudy shook his head, finding himself too out of breath to give a real answer.
“I bet you could beat John Handley!” Ben said, delighted. “I bet you could wipe his record off the plaques!”
“Looks like we’ve got a new winner in town,” Chuck said, grinning, the whistle poking out of his mouth.
“John Handley has to know,” Ben said, practically jumping with glee.
“Why?” Rudy asked.
“Because . . . well . . . don’t you want him to?”
“No,” Rudy said.
“Give it a rest, would ya?” Cooper said. “Just cause he beat me, doesn’t mean he can beat everyone.”
“Only one way to find out,” Chuck said.
“I don’t want to find out,” Rudy said.
“Do you know how many people were watching?” Pat asked. “Word will get around.”
“I’ll just deny it.”
“I saw it,” Ben said. “If I were you, I’d challenge John right now!”
“Yeah!” Chuck said.
“Guys, there’ll be no challenging. I don’t want to race John. Promise you won’t go spreading rumors.”
The four of them spoke at once.
“Fine.”
“Okay.”
“Sure thing.”
“You got it.”
But intermixed with those responses were other
(yeah right)
(don’t think s)
(event of the ye)
(won’t win)
unspoken truths.
Rudy wanted to be back with Mr. Kloom to get more answers.
---
“Finchy boy gave me his car for the week,” Mr. Kloom said, as Rudy found himself transported once more. “Know why? Cause he FUCKED the order up, got it? Anytime someone messes with your business, you got to give them the business, do you understand?”
“Stop throwing me around!” Rudy screamed, feeling a bit childish.
“What do you mean?”
“You know damn well what I mean! One minute I’m a kid in school, the next I’m a young traveling salesman. And you told me I might be killed!”
Mr. Kloom brought out a bottle of pills. He stuck a few in his mouth and swallowed them down. The speed limit was fifty but he drove eighty.
“Might is the keyword there, kid.”
“You better tell me what the hell’s going on right now.”
“You really want to know?”
“Yes!”
“Okay. I’ll tell you.” But Mr. Kloom said nothing, just continued driving, and Rudy got angry.
“I swear to G—”
“Ahhh, see? You weren’t listening, were you?”
“I don’t know how to listen.”
“What is it you think I’m trying to teach you?”
Rudy scowled. “How to listen.”
“How to listen, that’s right. To do that, we need to sell.”
“But why the jumps? Why the constant body-to-body transitions?”
“It’s your same body, not anyone else’s.”
“So you are doing it!”
“Well that’s obvious, isn’t it?”
“I just . . . I don’t know who you are. Half the time I feel like I’m living two different lives.”
“There it is!”
“What?”
“Your first revelation. You see? You’re learning and you don’t even know it. You’ve got to recognize these lessons as they come, otherwise you’ll never understand anything.”
“What lesson?”
“You don’t know who anyone is. That’s an important first step.”
/> “I don’t see a connection.”
“Oh, but my boy, you will. Do you know why I can’t smoke right now?”
“Because you’re out of cigarettes?”
“You really think I’d be so careless?” Mr. Kloom patted his suit pocket and gave a twisted smile. “Well, maybe I am. But you’re only right this one time, got it? How’d you know that, anyway? Some sort of prophet?”
Rudy glowered.
“I’m kidding you, Jesus, don’t look so solemn, kid. I need you to put on your happy face, cause we’re selling the best goddamn toilet paper from the U-S-OF-A, got it? If you don’t look like you believe it, then how can you expect the gummies to? Half the game is appearance, why do you think I wear this suit? If I came in with a t-shirt and shorts, they’d think I was some sort of nut. Same thing with your face, kid. If you come in looking all serious and unsure, they’ll close the door before you can even slip a toe in. Do you know what happens then?”
“We go poor.”
“Exactly! I told you, kid, the lessons are coming. Now shut up and listen, would you? These gummies are richer than sin, which means a lot to us. Tell me why.”
“They have money to throw around.”
“WRONG! Well, right, in this case. We’ll set the price forty percent higher, that part you understand. They won’t know the difference, because, far as they’re concerned, you get what you pay for. So a higher price won’t faze them. With that sort of thinking, they’ll just as soon buy rolls for ten bucks a pop. Do you see, kid?” Mr. Kloom tapped his own temple. “You got to get inside their head, think like them, so you can come back around and FUCK em hard! WOOO-EEEE!”
They hit a bump and the car jumped a couple of feet in the air. Rudy was thrown against his seatbelt when the vehicle landed, and Mr. Kloom cheered, even though the whole car squeaked and felt like it almost fell apart.
“Jee-ZUS, kid!” Mr. Kloom yelled, glancing out the back window. He wasn’t angry—he was glowing with delight. “Don’t tell ol Finchy boy. No one likes their car fucked with.”
Rudy nodded, stabilizing himself on the door.
“I’m going to change gears here,” Mr. Kloom said, and shifted up to fifth. “Okay. Let me tell you the secret to success.