DEAD AT SIXTEEN (THE KNOWERS Book 1)

by D. A. E. Jackson

  After they’d gone, Rocky asked Dad and me, “So, are you all, um—?”

  ‘We’re all Knowers, Rocky, yes,” George said, “And I’m so sorry you’ve had to deal with all of this all by yourself. If it helps at all, my wife and I are here for you now. Did Rose tell you a lot about the Knowers?”

  “I’m going to go find Mike,” I said to them and then turned to Dad, “Don’t forget to ask,” I added. He was supposed to ask Rocky if Mike could come with us to New York.

  I left the kitchen and headed out the patio doors into the backyard to find Mike. No, not to find him. To go to him. I already knew he was out back, standing under a tree, holding a cup, and talking to someone. Learning to trust the Knowledge when it came was difficult, but each time it was correct it got a little easier to just go with it. Once I was outside, I sort of let my feet guide me. I turned sharply right, took a few steps, and there he was: Mike was standing under a tree. He took a drink as I walked up and then continued talking to Jamie and Milton and Roger.

  “Hey, Phil,” they greeted me as I walked over.

  “Roger and I have something to tell you all,” Milton said while staring at the ground and kicking at the grass. “We’re not going with you to New York.” I looked at Roger, who nodded his head in agreement. “Roger really doesn’t want to go and I don’t want to leave him all alone here. We’ll both be starting at Kansas University this fall and we thought we could get a jump on things. You know? Um, move there this summer and try to disappear—fly under the radar, try not to get killed…” He trailed off, looking everywhere but at me. “I’m really sorry to bail on you all like this but I, uh, we think it’s for the best—”

  I was shocked speechless. Here I’d been thinking of Milton as the brains of our group and most of the intelligence we would gather in New York would be because of his smarts. Now what were we going to do?

  “Okay,” Mike sighed into the silence. “There’s no question that this trip is going to be dangerous and everyone needs to decide for themselves how or if they want to be involved. You’re both sure about this?” he asked Roger and Milton.

  Finally, Roger looked up from the ground and replied to Mike’s question, “I asked, but my uncle would never let me go,” he said to us. Then, looking back down at his shoes, he finished, “He thinks you’re all crazy.”

  “That’s right!” Jamie answered, trying to ease the tension, “Crazy like a fox. A super intuitive, statistically significant fox!” That made us all smile, even Roger. She continued, “And we are going to defeat evil ‘cause that’s what we do, right?”

  She was right. I grabbed Mike’s cup out of his hand and held it up in the air toward the middle of our circle. “Come on everyone! Let’s toast!” I said. They raised their cups to the center—everyone except Mike, who wrapped his arm around my waist instead. That felt nice. “Here’s to defeating evil!” I declared.

  “To defeating evil!” we shouted in unison.

  Mike. Jamie. Milton. Roger. Me. We all understood this graduation night was about a lot more than three of us finishing high school. We were graduating into adulthood. Having left our childhoods behind, back at the ice-filled warehouse, tonight we were moving away from all that had come before. Although some of us may have received Knowledge of the future, I certainly didn’t know that we were making choices that would affect us for the rest of our lives.

  It was the last time we were all together. (At least with these names and bodies).

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Although the vast majority of Knowers stay true to their mission of attempting to lessen the suffering in the world, some chose a different path. Those who follow the “Dark Way” are known to increase the misery in the world by personally profiting from their gifts. They have been known to sell their Knowledge or the information they possess.

  It is a legend among Knowers that following the Dark Way brings with it a frightful cost which darkens or curses the lives of its practitioners and those they love. Perhaps it is belief in this legend which keeps followers of the Dark Way to a small minority of Knowers.

  Southampton Free Press 1975 (Excerpt)

  The next day, while I was over at Mike’s house helping him pack for the trip, I asked him about something that had been bothering me. “Milton and Roger,” I began, “Are they, um, you know, a couple?”

  “Ha!” His laugh was loud. “Oh, that’s good! Wait until I tell them you asked that!” he added. “No, they’re not a couple, but it’s funny you thought they were. Remember when I told you that Milton recognized Roger from a previous life? Well, Roger was Milton’s son in that life and Milton still feels protective of him. I guess the first time around didn’t go so well and Milton wants to make sure it’s better this time. I don’t know what happened. He won’t tell me, so it must have been bad.

  “Do I need these?” he asked, holding up his hiking boots.

  “Uh, it’s New York City in the summer. No, you do not need those boots.” He smiled, not the least bit deflated. “Hey,” I changed the subject, “I’ve been thinking about our Mr. Kominsky. I get that Knowers are supposed to see bad things that might happen and try to stop them from happening, but, I was wondering if, in this case, is there a way to increase the chance of something bad happening to Kominsky? Can we sort of reverse-engineer our gifts? See a person coming to a good end and how it happens and then make it not happen?”

  Mike thought about what I’d asked him for a minute and then replied, “I don’t know. I’ve certainly never heard of Knowers doing anything like that before, but it’s not like I know everything there is to know about us…” You could see him thinking more and more. Then, he said, “You know, Philip, that’s a really good idea. I was thinking that we would wait for our moment and push him in front of a train or something like that. But if we could use our gifts to make him look suspicious to the police—frame him—and get him arrested that would solve our problem. If we found a way to get him sent to prison, that would be perfect. Let’s talk to your dad about it.”

  ◆◆◆

  “Boys, no. You can’t do it. It's terribly risky. People—Knowers—have died doing exactly what you’re suggesting, so, no, you can’t do it.”

  “So it’s possible!” I countered. “If people die from it,” I insisted, “Then it can be done, right? What’s it called and how do you do it?”

  “Philip, you are impossible!” George replied. Then, he paused to collect his thoughts. He went on, “What you’re talking about, it’s called the Dark Way.” He looked directly at Mike and said, “It got you killed not that long ago, didn't it?” He turned back to me and continued, “It nearly killed you, too. In fact you died soon after—”

  It seemed like he had more to say, but then he stopped. That’s when Mike told us, “I don’t know about any of that, George. What exactly did we do?”

  “Remember Virgil and Vincent, the twin brothers from upstate New York? They told fortunes for a living. Many of our kind do, actually. Well, times got hard for them and they started selling curses. For a Knower to make a curse, they look into someone’s future and see the possibility of something bad happening to them—anything from losing a wallet to losing a baby. Anything. Then, they see what actions could be taken to make that happen, to increase the probability of the supposed curse working. Instead of asking the client to cut off the head of a chicken or something like that, they tell them to shift something in the victim’s world—like date their younger sister or throw a brick through their window—something that might not seem connected but could contribute to the chain of events that led up to the bad experience—”

  Then he stopped again, so I said, “That doesn’t sound so bad, Dad.”

  “There’s more,” he said. I knew it. He went on, “All this leaning into negativity starts to feed on itself, Philip. It sort of sticks to you. After selling their so-called curses for a while, Virgil and Vincent became distrustful of the people in their town and the townspeople started to feel the same way about
them. In fact, they saw them as witches, demons—something sinister and unnatural. One night, someone threw a kerosene lamp through their window and that old, dry house went up in flames in a heartbeat!” He looked at Mike and said, “Virgil died in the fire.” Then he looked at me, nodding sadly, and added, “Vincent was burned. He survived but he was disfigured. He was living on the streets in New York City for a while and then he died. Alone.”

  Mike and I just sat there looking at each other. All the memories I’d had so far of the brothers had been of the good times they had when they were younger: I hadn’t seen any of these scarier times they had lived through. Dad’s information had certainly dampened my enthusiasm. He continued, “Listen to me, boys. The Dark Way is not something you should fool around with.”

  “Dad,” I responded, much calmer than before, “I’m not sure we have a choice. All we have to do is get the police to look at him for one of the murders that we know he’s already committed. We don’t have to go full-tilt evil or anything. We just need to bend the situation a little bit towards justice—”

  “We’ll be preventing future suffering, if we can stop him from kidnapping and killing anyone else,” Mike told him. “Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?”

  “Let me think about it,” Dad said. “Do you have a list of murders you suspect he’s committed?” he asked Mike. “That would be really helpful.”

  “Sure, it’s in my notebook in Phil’s bedroom. Do you want photos of the victims, too? I have those also.”

  “Wow! You’re good at this, young man,” Dad said. “Yes, bring the pictures as well. Phil, would you go get your mother, please? I want her to see if she can get a reading on any of these people. We should all try. You never know, right?”

  This was the first I’d heard any of them talk about “getting a reading,” but after seeing it in action, I can tell you how it works: Let’s say there’s someone you think you might have some Knowledge about, but they’re not around so you can’t do the Look. Instead, if you have their name and a photo of them, you can do the Look at the picture instead. The Knowledge you get isn’t nearly as good or deep, but it’s something.

  We took turns with the photos Mike supplied. Some were photocopies of newspaper articles, so they weren’t very good quality. Others were photographs of photographs, which were better. What happened is that we would each look at a photo, and say the person’s name a few times. Then we would sort of open ourselves to the Knowledge and wait to see if anything happened. When I looked, I got nothing. Dad got nothing. Mike got one or two curious inklings about one of the women. Then it was Mom’s turn. When she got to the picture that had tickled at Mike’s brain, she said the woman’s name several times, just as she’d done with the other photos. “Mary Louise Keller. Mary Louise Keller,” she repeated slowly, looking deeply into the grainy image. “Oh. Oh, you! I don’t... Alright.” She broke away from the picture—and the information she’d found there. I’d never seen my mom do anything like that before. It was a little embarrassing, like we were intruding on a private moment. The others didn’t seem to think there was anything wrong, though.

  Instead, Mike immediately asked, “What did you see, Lydia?”.

  “Anything we could use?” Dad added.

  When she didn’t answer, I asked, “Mom, are you okay?”

  “Yes,” she said quietly. By then, she had her head in her hand, covering her eyes. “I don’t know how I got this information. It has nothing to do with my Knowledge,” she emphasized, describing to us what she’d seen: “Mary Louise lived in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. It’s a touristy area between New York City and Philadelphia. She was around my age and worked in a shop selling wind chimes and kites to visitors. From what I got, she was very good at the quick read. She’d send her customers away with a bit of Knowledge—just enough to make their lives a little better, if they could remember what she’d said.”

  Mom seemed to float in her memories for a moment, then she went on, “She was happy until the Hunter showed up. He was just another customer until their hands touched as she was handing him a box—and then she knew he was going to kill her. She couldn’t have known exactly what that meant, because we can’t see that sort of information, but she could see his intentions. She looked straight into his eyes and he looked back. He wasn’t a Knower but he knew what she’d seen and he liked it. Of course, he was younger then. He had a lot more of that fly-away blond hair than he has now...”

  With that, my mom threw back her head, shook out her hair, and said, ”That’s all!” She seemed a bit confused when she added, “Where did that come from, anyway? It’s like it was just out there waiting for someone to pick it up... And poor Mary Louise! He just grabbed her right then and there, didn’t he? Right out of her shop!”

  “Yeah,” Mike replied. “One minute she was there running the store, the next minute people noticed the store was closed and she was just gone. Two months later, her body was found off the side of a road in New Jersey. That was eight years ago—in 1972. As far as I was able to gather, the police have never had any leads in the case.”

  “So, when we find Alfred Kominsky’s address,” I said excitedly, “We can tell the police he’s the one responsible for Mary Louise’s death! Once we get his address, I think we should tip off the police in each of the places on Mike’s list where someone’s disappeared—including the kidnappings here. We’ll tell them that Alred Kominsky was the one responsible.” I paused to see if anyone else thought this was a good idea.

  “That’s not bad, son,” Dad replied.

  “With all those police departments looking at him,” I continued, “Surely one of them will find something solid enough to charge him with, right?”

  “You boys are like TV detectives,” Mom interrupted, smiling. “I’m really glad we’re doing this,” she said, getting serious. “Just look at all the pictures in this pile!” She scattered the papers on the table, spreading them out so we could see them. “These people deserve justice. Mary Louise deserves justice. So does this Mr. Kominsky.”

  “Well, in two days we’re heading to New York to deliver it to him, Honey,” Dad reassured her. “Remember, no one uses a computer for research before we leave—no one. We don’t want him knowing what we’re up to. Paper only!”

  After that, time seemed to fly by and, before I knew it, we were on the road.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Some Knowers reject their gifts. For some, the responsibility is too much. It remains unproven that the ones who spend their lives turning away from the Knowledge tend not to return in a new life. It is possible that a life of looking both backward and forward is what creates the link to a future life.

  Southampton Free Press 1975 (Excerpt)

  Once we’d left home and begun the long drive to New York, I realized Mike and Mom had been sharing the Look—a lot. Mike confided in me that they’d done it when he’d gone in the kitchen to help with dinner after we’d been studying at the family table. I suddenly felt excluded from my own family. At the same time, I got the impression they didn’t want me to feel they weren’t supportive of me. After all, I was the one who’d been shot in the chest. Still, it was a little weird that my mom seemed to want to spend more time with my boyfriend than with me. Wait! Was he my boyfriend? Was I jealous? If I was jealous, which one of them was I jealous of?

  During the first part of the drive, Mike was in the back of the car with Jamie and me but he spent a lot of time leaning forward and whispering into Mom’s ear. After this went on for a while, Jamie suggested she and my mom switch places. At the next rest stop she climbed into the front seat and took over as navigator for Dad. Mom got into the back where she could sit next to Mike and talk. Then they resumed whispering to each other while I just sat there, quietly confused through it all.

  ◆◆◆

  I’m going to tell you now that I don’t come off too well in this next scene—just a plea not to judge me too harshly...

  When we pulled into a highway rest
stop to get some air and stretch our legs, I cornered Mike outside the men’s room.

  “So, what exactly are you and my mother talking so secretively about?”

  “You make it sound like we have a secret plot or something,” he laughed uneasily. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that you and Mom have been talking and sharing your private jokes since we left and I have no idea what’s even going on any more. Is there something you’re not telling me, Mike?” I pressed him.

  “What? No. Look, I’m sorry. I guess we have been sort of excluding you—and everyone else. Okay. Let me see if I can help you to understand: Luisa died when Ingmar was still overseas and, up until that point, she had been the most important person in his life. Of course, after that there was Ansel and everything changed, but Ingmar always missed his sister, Luisa.”

  “Is that why you came on this trip? So you could spend time with my mom? With Luisa?”

  “No,” he shook his head.

  “Sure it is,” I corrected him. “She’s a grown woman, in full control of her Knowledge—not some novice like me that you have to train and be patient with.”

  “Hold on, Phil. You know that’s not true. We’re just filling in the gaps and catching up with each other. That’s all.”

  “Right. It makes perfect sense. And here I was trusting you. Opening up to you. Thinking I could depend on you. Now I see it, though: it was never really me you wanted. It was my mother, right?” Mike just stood there, not moving. His mouth opened but he didn’t say a word. “I’m sorry Mike,” I continued, “As much as you might feel you need a new mother, you can’t have mine. She’s not for sale.” With that, I turned and I stormed off around the outside of the men’s room and then I just kept going into the field that ran beside the highway.