The Broken

by Sean Michael Frawley

the empty space on his other side. "Come here, son. We need to talk."

  Link did what his father said then waited silently for him to speak. A faint breeze wisped down from the ceiling fan overhead and caused him to shiver.

  His dad seemed to notice and draped a thin throw blanket around Link's shoulders. "When your mother became ill, when she was suffering from whatever it was that afflicted her... Do you remember her crazy hallucinations? She kept insisting that dark shapes were chasing her. She couldn't sleep. Then, in the later stages, she had trouble eating and got really thin. Do you remember all that?"

  Link nodded his head but did not look at his father. Instead he focused on an oil painting of an old farmhouse that hung over the bedroom dresser. He tried to will himself into the painting. It looked peaceful and dreamlike...if only. Despite his attempts to transport himself away from the present, Link's heart sank deeper and deeper inside his aching chest as his father talked.

  "I took her to doctors," his dad continued, "but they couldn't find anything wrong with her. Aside from being a bit malnourished and sleep deprived, she acted lucid enough. At my insistence, the doctors ran all sorts of tests, and each of them came back normal. Physically speaking, she appeared to be a healthy, middle-aged woman. I asked that the doctors give her a drug test. Your mother was furious. I'm not sure what hurt her more, the fact that I didn't believe she was seeing those crazy things or my concern that she was capable of doing drugs."

  Link didn't like where this was heading. He wasn't ready to face the possibility that the rumors about his mother had been true. "It's okay, Dad. I don't need to know all of this. I-"

  "Until today, I didn't think so either, Lincoln. That was why we never talked about it. Your mother loved you and your brother more than the air she breathed, more than her beloved sunsets and all those silly houses. She loved you so much that she sheltered you from the torment and suffering she endured. She pretended everything was okay for your sakes. But it wasn't. We know that now."

  "Dad, I really don't want to know about this stuff." Link got up to leave, but his dad continued.

  "When the tox screens came back negative for drugs, I figured maybe she was crazy after all. That is, until today when I found a dead polar bear in my kitchen. I had thought maybe her paranoia was some sort of delusional fantasy brought on by schizophrenia. Her great-grandmother was diagnosed with schizophrenia, you know. So it made sense that your mom might have had it as well. All her talk about being watched by shadows...shadows that had faces of their own. And the eyes...she always talked about how scary the eyes were. Naturally, she had to be nuts. Shadows don't chase you. They just don't. And they certainly don't have eyes."

  Link wished with all his heart that he could pull his ears away from this discussion. He wanted to run, to leave everything far behind, but deep down, he knew better. He knew this was not something he could ever outpace, no matter how fast he ran.

  "One day your mom got better. Said she'd found a way to destroy the shadows once and for all. It was a miracle. I didn't understand it, but what difference did that make? All I knew was that the woman I loved was back in my arms again. Then, two days later, she was gone, killed in the fire."

  He paused as he struggled to push through the last part. He lifted Ayden onto his lap. "I turned the house upside down in search of something, anything that provided a clue as to what had happened. The only thing I found was a name scribbled into one of her journals." He reached out a hand. "Could you hand the journal to me please, Lincoln?"

  Link tried to act surprised by his father's implication. "What journal?" He knew he should never have taken one of his mother's journals without his father's permission, but it hadn't really been his fault.

  Mr. Hartkins smiled. "It's okay. Frankly, I'm shocked it took you this long. I didn't exactly hide them. I figured you'd read them when you needed to...when you missed her enough not to care what you found."

  Link looked down to where his father was pointing and saw the top of his mother's journal poking out of his pocket. "I saw it earlier, but I didn't want to say anything in front of your friends. Could you hand it to me please? I want to show you something."

  Link handed the journal to his father without protest.

  Mr. Hartkins took the old diary and began leafing through its pages. He stopped when he reached a page about three-fourths of the way through. Apparently finding what he was looking for, he ran his index finger down the inside of the spine to flatten the page. Then he handed it to Link.

  Link stared at the words in disbelief. It wasn't possible. He stared at the page in wonder, in horror, and in shame. Secretly, he had always harbored suspicions that his mom was nuts, though he never would have admitted those suspicions to anybody. Now he knew that he'd been wrong.

  The page was blank except for a few scribbled words and a series of numbers scrawled across the center of it. It read: Raythuse is coming, Harrington Complex 1317.

  "How could Mom have known about Raythuse?" Link murmured. And that number...he recognized it immediately as the one given to him in the mysterious message that Jim Jim had sent to him. Was it a coincidence? Not likely. But how were they all connected? Suddenly, Jim Jim's warning about the dangerous shadows really made sense.

  Mr. Hartkins shook his head thoughtfully as he rubbed his chin. "I have no idea, Lincoln. I don't know who or what he is. Lord knows I've tried to find out. When I first discovered this, I searched through books, newspapers, the web ? you name it. At first, I wondered if she was having an affair, but that was just my paranoia talking. I finally shrugged it off as unimportant. I haven't ever heard the name again. That is...until tonight. Your friend Celia said it when she was talking to Tom. I did find out what the Harrington Complex is, though. As far as I can tell, it's some privately owned medical research facility in Baselton.

  "Now it's your turn. What's going on? And I mean what's really going on, Lincoln, not some story you create to keep your old man in the dark. I want the truth

  44

  The Gift of a Neighbor

  Link peered through the front door to the porch beyond. Eerily reminiscent of the scene earlier in the day, when people from a wide range of city departments had filed into the house, a small group of women now waited outside.

  This time, however, the woman in front was pressing the bell instead of barging in. She was a tall, slender woman with big hair and even bigger hoop earrings. She was so engrossed in the conversation with her friends that she paid no attention to whether or not someone answered the door.

  If these women were Broken, they sure didn't look like it. Link felt fairly safe allowing them in. What could they possibly do, attack him with hairspray? He opened the door and the small cluster of women welcomed themselves inside. Every one of them handed Link a jacket or a shawl, though none of them acknowledged that he was anything more than a coat rack.

  Who did these women think they were? Right as he was about to give them a piece of his mind, the one who had been pressing the doorbell called out in a high-pitched shrill voice of simulated delight. "Cici! Oh, my precious, Cici! Let me get a good look at you." Even as she hugged Celia, she never once stopped talking.

  "What happened? I mean, I know a big, icky bear attacked you, but whatever did you do? How did you get away? Good heavens! I simply can't imagine what it must have been like!" Still talking, she apparently caught sight of her own reflection in the hallway mirror. She primped her hair a few times and lifted her face to check her makeup. "Will you ladies just look at my darling Cici? She's so brave."

  She backed up a few steps to make a show of admiring her. Then she placed a hand on her shoulder and clucked like a proud mother hen. "I knew you were a brave girl." She glanced over her shoulder at the group. "She is a Simpkowitz after all, but mercy! A bear? Your father will be so proud when he finds out. So proud."

  The woman, who Link guessed had to be Celia's mother, scrunched Celia's cheeks between her thumb and forefinger, causing Celia's lips to pucker. "S
o proud, yes, he will. He'll just be-"

  "Mrs. Simpkowitz," Mr. Hartkins interrupted. "Mrs. Simpkowitz?" he said again, still trying to pry her manic focus away from Celia.

  Spinning around dramatically, Mrs. Simpkowitz said, "Good heavens, darling. Don't call me that. It makes me sound so old. Mrs. Simpkowitz is my mother-in-law. Joseph, you silly gentleman, you. I told you the last time we met that my name is Yvonne. But all my friends call me Star. They seem to think it suits me better. Can you blame them?" She looked back at the small group of women who all nodded their heads in vigorous agreement.

  "I apologize," Mr. Hartkins said.

  "Apology accepted."

  "Star?"

  "There you are, love. Well met. Doesn't that sound much better? Star." She paused for effect. "Just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?"

  Taking it all in stride, Mr. Hartkins said, "Yes, quite smoothly. Very good. At any rate, who are all these women?"

  "Egad, sweetie! I thought you'd remember. Silly me, always assuming things. Let me reacquaint you with some of the most important members of the neighborhood council." As Star pointed to each person, she said their names. "This is Sissy. This is Missy. This is Mitzy. Over there, that's Betsy and her sister Sarah. The one with that gorgeous new Wembley Batton purse is Jenny, and, as you already know, I am Star."

  Celia nudged Link in the gut with her elbow and whispered. "Remember the NGP I told you about?" She waved her arm in front of her. "You're looking at them."

  Mrs. Simpkowitz continued her monologue, oblivious to the fact that Celia had said something. "Wonderful!" Star exclaimed. "So glad all of you could make it tonight. Especially you, Mitzy Devereaux. Thank you so much for keeping a watchful eye over this house today." Star paused dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. "Who knows what might have happened if those trusty binoculars of yours had been broken?"

  Mrs. Devereaux flushed at the mention of her name.

  Mr. Hartkins searched for an opening to speak but was clearly having a great deal of difficulty. Link quietly laughed. He knew all too well the frustration his father must be feeling. Like mother, like daughter.

  When his father had waited long enough, he interrupted, "Ladies! Excuse me, ladies." It took some time, but the talking eventually died down. Some of the women appeared rather surprised to find a man in their midst. "Ladies. Thank you for your attention. I was wondering if I may I be so bold as to inquire about the nature of such an unexpected pleasure as your company?"

  Star pretended to blush. Her sentiment may have been real, but it was hard to tell beneath all her makeup. "Such a charmer, isn't he? Why certainly you may inquire, Joseph. This is your house, isn't it? Let me explain. We are here on behalf of the neighborhood to address the recent bear epidemic. What better way to rid our town of unwanted polar bears than to promptly form a committee to address the issue? Right, ladies?"

  All the other ladies eagerly murmured their agreement.

  "After all," she persisted, "I'm sure you know what they say about bears?"

  Puzzled, Mr. Hartkins responded, "No. Until today, I don't believe I've ever heard anything said about bears. Oh, wait. I did hear once that if a grizzly bear attacks you, the best thing to do is play dead. But seeing as it was a polar bear, I'm not sure that would apply in this case. So, please, enlighten me."

  Star was taken aback. Apparently, she was unused to people who did nod along to everything she said. "Well, it's not really what they say that matters. It's what they mean."

  "Well then, what do they mean?" Mr. Hartkins asked.

  "What they mean is that we have a problem here that needs to be addressed. Wouldn't you agree? Bears breaking into houses? I'm sure I speak for everyone when I call this a very serious problem."

  "Serious," the ladies chorused.

  There was a loud crash as the front door slammed shut. They all turned to see Susan Greta nudging her way through the knot of women like a salmon swimming upstream. "Don't listen to a word they say, Joseph. They're all nuttier than a pecan pie." She glared at the women, defying them to disagree.

  "Nobody asked you," Star quickly responded.

  Mrs. Greta ignored her and knelt down beside Ayden. "Are you okay, dear?" she cooed. She gingerly cupped his chin in the palm of her hand. Then she raised his head so that she could look into his soulful eyes. "I heard about what happened. I came over as soon as I could."

  Ayden beamed, happy to finally have a bit of attention.

  "Always the sweetie, aren't you?" She tousled his hair. "How about you guys?" she said, speaking to Link, Celia, and Tom. I heard what happened to Panch, poor thing. And, Tom, I heard about your dear nana. Don't you worry. Your grandmother is tough as nails. If anybody was fool enough to tango with her, it's them we should worry about."

  Link, Celia and Tom all smiled politely despite the sudden climate change in the room. There had been an undeniable temperature shift the moment Mrs. Greta entered the room. The other ladies were clearly not happy about her unannounced arrival. The women's scornful stares spoke much louder than their plastic smiles. Link wondered why anyone would dislike Mrs. Greta. What was there to dislike?

  Star was the first to break in, "Susan. So kind of you to join us. You shouldn't be such a stranger to our little meetings. Though, I imagine it would be hard for someone like you not to be strange. Sort of like asking a fish to no longer swim." A few of the ladies giggled. "But honestly, I know we've had our differences in the past. That doesn't mean we couldn't have a sunny future. It's just-"

  "Can it, pretzel top, or Star, or whatever your harem of nincompoops is calling you these days. Don't act for a second like I don't know what you Judases think of me. So let me assure you, I don't want to be here anymore than you want me here. But I wasn't about to let a personal squabble be more important than my friendship with my new neighbors. Maybe you guys should form a committee to investigate that word sometime. You know...friend. You might be surprised at what you find."

  She turned her back on the women, completely ignoring their open-mouthed indignation.

  For the first time that evening, Star was speechless. In fact, she was in such a huff, Link was surprised she hadn't hyperventilated.

  Mrs. Greta removed a small bag from her purse. She looked deep into Link's eyes. "I know what you are," she whispered. Then she winked at him playfully. "Kaylee saved this for me. I believe your brother is going to need it." She handed him the bag. "To tell you the truth, I always sort of suspected it would be you."

  Then she grew serious. Deep lines spidered their way onto her face, like cracks meandering through a broken windshield. Pointing to the bag, she said, "Lincoln, keep this hidden. You mustn't use it unless you have to. Think of it as the very last stop in the last room of your last resort. Use it at any other time, and...well, we won't let ourselves think about that. But mark my words: sometimes there are things far worse than death. Keep that in mind when you choose your moment. I have faith in you."

  "But?" Link began.

  "You'll know it when it comes. You'll feel it deep inside," Mrs. Greta interrupted.

  "How?"

  Her smile faded. "Because you'll be the only one left."

  Link opened his mouth. His head was full of questions. Did she know that he was a Chosen? What had she meant about him being the only one left? Where would all his friends be? "But, I...what..."

  She quickly held her index finger to her lips and shushed him. "Now is not the time. Look through the lens if you want the truth. Then look to your friends for the proof, but never let the lights go out before dawn, or that will be the end of you."

  "Susan? I don't mean to break up this lovely reunion, touching as it is, but can you get on with it? We do have incredibly pressing neighborhood concerns. Surely, even you must be aware of the magnitude of the events that transpired earlier today. Or are you still too wrapped up in your little bubble of make believe bunny rabbits? I suppose it's nice to know that some things never cha-"

  Mrs. Greta spun arou
nd on Star as fast as a viper strike. She didn't say a word. She didn't have to. The venom in her stare, the loathing and contempt she released from every fiber of her body was enough.

  Then, Susan Greta's face changed once again. It reverted to her more familiar, motherly gaze. She smiled a deep, heartfelt smile and shook her head as she looked down at Ayden. For a brief moment, her eyes grew misty with emotion. She appeared to be on the verge of tears. "This one's special," she said, all of her attention focused on Ayden. "Celia, please take care of him. In the end, I believe his safety will fall to you."

  "What about me?" Link said, flustered by the fact he was not to be his brother's protector.

  "Dear boy, the fate of the world lies with you. Isn't that enough?"

  "But..." Carefully holding the bag, Link said, "How did you-"

  "Another time. Soon, I hope. We'll all sit down with a fresh loaf of pumpkin bread and have a long talk."

  Then, with a deep breath, she cleansed her face of kindness and swung back to confront the women of the NGP. "Good night, ladies," she said. As she strode past them, she didn't even glance in their direction until she reached the front door. But before she stepped back into the night's charcoal clutches, she turned briefly and said, "Trust me. I use the word ladies in the loosest sense possible."

  Tom looked at the bag and whispered, "Is that what I think it is?"

  Link only nodded. Once again, the camera had found him.

  45

  All Packed

  Early Sunday morning Link surveyed the wreckage that had once been the living room. He marveled at the extent of the damage. Splintered wood, chunks of drywall, and loose bits of molding with nails that poked through the edges were the least of their problems. All the debris could be swept up and thrown away, but it was the structural damage to the walls that worried him. Would he ever be able to get into his bedroom again? He'd seen how long renovations could take.

  Thank heavens there had only been two Broken. Any more might have taken down the whole house. Then again, Mrs. Kidacki had said that it was only a matter of time until more would return. Just the thought of it made his leg begin to bounce with nervous anticipation.

  He took some solace in the fact that Tom was resting peacefully on the living room couch. If he wasn't worried, maybe Link was overreacting as well.

  "Can you believe those women last night?" Link said, hoping to divert his mind with small talk. "For a minute, I thought the good citizens of the NGP looked angrier about Mrs. Greta's intrusion than they did about the polar bear."

  "Probably were," Tom said, not even bothering to open his eyes.

  "Did she do something to them?"

  "Ask Celia."

  "Speaking of Celia, did you listen to her mom?" Link said, ignoring Tom's obvious disinterest. "I bet