“Hurley, thank God,” the man croaked. His eyes were hard and bright, even as his voice was strained. I thought he might have been in his forties. Hurley stepped in and looked around.
“You got yourself into quite a mess, Tad,” he said, poking the coffee table piled with full ashtrays, beer bottles, and empty pill containers.
“Please, Hurley, I just need a little help,” Tad said from his awkward position on the couch. “It’s my back again.”
Hurley sighed and knelt by Tad’s face. They whispered back and forth, and I didn’t catch what he said, but as soon as he got up Hurley walked farther back into the house and told me to stay where I was.
As Hurley rummaged in the kitchen, Tad turned his attention to me. “You Hurley’s son?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. I don’t think Hurley has kids.”
He sighed and cringed as he tried to roll over. “That doesn’t surprise me,” he said through gritted teeth. “Can you hand me that pillow?”
I grabbed a throw pillow off the floor and handed it to him just as Hurley came back with a coffee can. He plucked some bills from inside and squinted at them.
“This isn’t enough,” he told Tad. “You gotta give me at least fifty.”
“It’s all I got,” Tad replied. I stared at Hurley, and he looked back and rolled his eyes.
“All right,” he said at last. “But you owe me.”
Tad nodded his head vigorously, and Hurley stood near him.
“Come here,” Hurley said, jerking his hand to motion me over. “I want you to watch. Sit there.”
He bent over Tad as I knelt at the coffee table. The carpet was flat under my knees as I peered at the movement of Hurley’s hands. The incantation he said was simple at first, but then the words folded into one another as I struggled to listen, whispering the sounds to myself in an attempt to capture some of their magic. The room warmed as it always did when Hurley did a full incantation. His hands drifted down the prone man’s back, and pain melted from Tad’s eyes. His gaze became hollow, then distant, hooded. He smiled.
Hurley barked out a final syllable to cut off his chant and made a tying motion with his hands. My fingers twitched to imitate him. Tad sighed contentedly, and his whole body relaxed, sinking into the couch cushions.
“Thank you,” he slurred, staring at nothing.
“No problem,” Hurley replied, patting Tad on the shoulder and stepping away. Tad was unresponsive—drifting in some painless, sightless neverland.
“What did you do to him?” I whispered.
“You don’t have to be so quiet—he’s so out of it, I doubt he’d notice if Hurricane Andrew stopped by.”
“What did you do to him?” I repeated louder. “Can I do that?”
“Not yet, and never try the magic on yourself—it’s dangerous.” He rubbed his fingers, massaging the angled knuckles while he talked. “Pretty cool though, huh? Let’s let him be.”
Hurley moved to leave the house, but I couldn’t get my eyes off Tad. He looked like he was somewhere else, even though his body was very much on the overstuffed couch.
“Come on,” Hurley barked. “I got more to do today, and we can’t just sit here in Tad’s house. I got more to show you!”
As I turned to leave, I caught a glimpse of wide, brown eyes. A little girl with beads in her hair stared at me from a small hallway that branched away from the living room. She looked down at Tad, then back at me. I opened my mouth to say something, but Hurley pulled me out into the sun. On the horizon, clouds were darkening for another deluge.
I got back in the truck in silence, staring at the console, thinking of the little girl. I wondered who was going to feed her, with Tad so out of it. We pulled away, moving back toward the highway. A salty breeze roared through the windows as we crossed a bridge, muddy canal water drifting underneath.
“What’s wrong?” Hurley asked, staring down at me from the driver’s side. “It’s not illegal or anything. Tell people about it and they’ll just think you’re crazy—I’ve been there. Let the clients come to you, you never go searching for them. That’s torch-and-pitchfork territory. Or I guess today it’s padded-wall-and-electroshock territory.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Come on, kid, it’s really not as bad as you think. It was either me or pills. You know what I mean? Pills?”
I picked at my fingernails. “Does she have a mom?”
Hurley looked back to the road, shaking his head. “Shit, kid, of course she does. You think I’d leave her in there alone with a dad blinded by the shiny lights? I’m not a monster. Her mom’ll be home in a couple hours. I asked.”
I chose to think he was telling the truth.
“You do this often?” I asked.
“Not that often, but it pays good when I do. The magic I got—that we got—does a lot of good for people. It’s cheaper than a doctor and it’s not addictive.”
The man’s fevered eyes flashed in my mind as Hurley kept talking.
“Lemme get you something to eat, huh? You like McDonald’s? I was always hungry when I was a kid.”
The drive-thru was empty as we pulled up, and the violent hiss of the speakers made me flinch. We ate in the bed of his truck, watching the black horizon. I was still a little full from the mac and cheese, so I just had a hamburger and a coke, but Hurley wolfed down two Big Macs and a large fry.
“Does magic make you hungry?” I asked as he licked his fingers. “You eat a lot, but you’re so skinny.”
Hurley shrugged. “Sometimes. Depends on the magic.”
He didn’t tell me anything else and unwrapped another Big Mac.
Three stops later, as we drifted down I-95, I sat in the passenger seat winding the necklace chain around my hand, unwinding it, staring at the gem, feeling its heat. Eventually, I stuffed it back into my backpack and turned to Hurley.
“How much money do you make with this whole thing? I mean … helping people?” I asked.
Hurley smirked and itched his nose. “I make a good amount,” he replied, nodding while he spoke. “I make decent money. Keeps my head above water, feeds my cats.”
I turned back to looking at the road, something still bothering me. “But how much?”
My question agitated him, I could tell. He shook his head and smacked the radio that was starting to hiss with lost signal. “Goddamn thing,” he exclaimed. “I make enough, dammit!” he said at last. “I could make more if I didn’t have to be at every person’s house—a lot more—but there’s only one of me.” He glanced at me carefully, waiting.
“You think I could do this?” I asked.
“I suppose, if you practice. You could make good money, too—soon, even. You have a gift, you know. Not everyone can say the words and have them work, Jake. I could count the people I’ve met that can do what we do on one hand—and that includes you and me.”
We pulled off the highway, whirling around a copse of pine trees to get onto a familiar back road.
“You could go out, help people who don’t want to use pills for their pain, Jake.” Hurley kept going. “You’d help them feel better and keep them from needing prescriptions and all that toxic shit some people use. It’s a good job—a clean, honest job.”
I let Hurley’s words wash over me as I rode along, and they sounded familiar. I’d heard Rick saying stuff like that to my mom. I’d heard it at Robbie’s house. It wasn’t usually about magic, but I knew what Hurley was offering, even if he didn’t want to say it. I wasn’t a stupid kid.
“You just give me some of what you make—you know, as my apprentice.”
I stared at my hands.
“Think about it,” Hurley finished, probably sensing my hesitation. “There’s no pressure or anything. Hey, kid!” I looked up at him. “It’s me. I’m not trying to make you do something you don’t want to.”
&
nbsp; I smiled to reassure him. “Course not. I’ll think about it.”
The clock on the dash read 6:30, and wet clouds crept over the sky as we pulled into a gas station. The asphalt was uneven, and a gaggle of beer signs hung lit in the windows. Hurley climbed out, rocking the cab, and popped open the gas cap.
“Gonna rain soon!” He called to me as he filled the truck.
I leaned out my window. “It’s getting late, Hurley. You taking me home soon? I don’t want my mom calling around looking for me.”
“Don’t worry about it! I’ll get you home soon. This’ll be a quick stop—promise.” He smiled at me as the gas nozzle clicked off.
The stop was down a spit of dirt road off the infamous County Line Highway. It was a bar clad in neon lights already blaring against the gloom of what was going to be a wet night. The air crackled with static, raising goose bumps on my arms, and I could hear a groan of quiet thunder coming for us.
We rolled up the windows before getting out, and I left my backpack in the truck—didn’t see the point of bringing it with me.
The bar was empty except for a few guys playing pool and one man sitting stooped over the bar. The bartender was a chubby guy with strong arms, and he gave Hurley a nod as we walked in. My sneakers stuck to the floor, and the faint smell of alcohol permeated the whole place.
“How’s it going, Dave?” Hurley asked the bartender as he went to the counter.
“We’re not allowed to have kids in here, Hurley,” Dave replied, nodding at me.
“Why the hell not? It’s not like he’ll be drinking.”
“Because it’s the law. You know what that is, don’t you?”
“Well he’s my assistant, and I want him here.” Dave just raised his eyebrows. “What if he sits over there?” Hurley asked, gesturing at a booth next to an ancient jukebox.
“Fine, but not for long.”
Hurley nodded meaningfully at the booth, and I rolled my eyes as I walked over. It was stupid—I wasn’t gonna do anything. The two men talked for a few minutes, then the bartender handed Hurley a lump of cash and Hurley whispered something to him. Dave laughed—the first kind expression he’d had since we walked in—and nodded a few times at Hurley. They shook hands, and Hurley turned to walk to me.
Before he could, though, the stooped man pushed himself up and into Hurley’s path.
“You,” the man said, staring up at Hurley. I climbed out of the booth and started toward them, but Hurley held up a gnarled finger, stopping me.
“I’m sorry, bud, I don’t have any cash for you,” he said, arms open in a way that said “back off.”
“I don’t want your money. I just need you to say something to take the edge off. Say a few words for me—come on.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hurley responded. He tried to push past the man and get to me, but the man grabbed Hurley’s shirt.
“You know exactly what I mean—I need that thing you do. You know me. You used to help me. Now nothing helps me.” Spittle flew from the man’s mouth as he leaned closer to Hurley. “Look at my face. I need your help now. Say a few words—it’s just a few words!”
“How’s this: get your damned hands off—” Hurley tried to pull the man off, but his grip was too strong. They stumbled toward me, and I started back to avoid them. Hurley tripped, and the man fell with him to the dark, sticky floor. Then the man was flailing on top of Hurley. They tumbled toward me, each struggling for dominance. I tried to pull the man off Hurley as he chanted, “Say it” over and over into Hurley’s face.
“Get off!” I yelled as Hurley kicked and struggled. The man smelled like old urine and stale beer. He flung his fist out blindly and made contact with my jaw, sending me falling into the booth table. The room spun, and spots glittered as I found myself on the floor.
Hurley glanced at me and opened his mouth to yell at the man. His face turned a deep red I’d never seen as he opened his mouth to speak. I couldn’t make out the words, but I recognized some of the syllables. The air conditioner kicked on, and I saw little flashes of light at Hurley’s fingertips.
Pushing myself up, I kept my eyes on what was happening. Hurley freed himself and stood over the man who now cowered and covered his ears. Hurley hacked one final word out and spit on the man, who gibbered madly, fear widening his eyes. He stumbled, trying to stand while Hurley watched him, sneering. Eventually, the man fled through the back of the bar, moaning and crying in nonsense words. There was a coldness in Hurley’s eyes I didn’t recognize, and the room had turned hot and stifling.
“Are you OK?” Hurley asked eventually, bending to get a look at my face. I glared at him.
“What did you do to that man?” I asked. “What was he talking about ‘nothing helps anymore’? What did you do?”
Hurley opened his mouth but nothing came out, so he closed it again.
“Thing is, it’s not about—” he started, but I was already walking for the door. I felt so stupid, so dumb. This was what Hurley’s help did. Like any other drug—it just looked different. Sparklier.
Outside, a few fat drops of water fell as I marched to the main road. The rain thickened, pouring over me as the cars drifted by. The rain hid my tears of disappointment—mostly in myself. If that was what magic did, I wasn’t interested. I already knew that story.
My sneakers squelched in the runoff and I shivered as droplets drifted down the neck of my shirt onto my back. Lightning flashed and set thunder clapping down at me. Cars passed, red brake lights fragmenting in the drops and disappearing into the distance. I figured I was only a few miles from home and could use the time walking to think up an excuse for my mom to explain why I was late.
A truck pulled up next to me and slowed. The window rolled down and Hurley’s face smiled sheepishly at me.
“Wet enough yet?” he asked. “Lemme give you a ride home. I’ll explain everything that happened—promise.”
I ignored him. He was probably gonna feed me some more bull. Cars swerved around his truck, but Hurley kept looking at me as he drove.
“Come on, kid. It’s not that bad. Plus, how are you gonna explain not having your backpack?” He held it up to show me, wiggling it like bait. “Just hear me out, huh? And then I’ll take you home, and you can tell your mom you had dinner at Robbie’s or some other BS. Then there’s always the necklace—”
I sighed and rolled my eyes so he knew it wasn’t all OK.
“Fine,” I said, and he hit his brakes. I climbed into the truck, not caring that I was soaking his seats.
That man in the bar—” Hurley sighed. “He was an old client of mine, but he started reacting badly to my help. He started wanting more than was good for him, so I had to stop helping. Some people react that way—it’s just them. It has nothing to do with the words. You get that, right?”
He sighed and lit a cigarette, inhaling and putting a hand to his forehead. “Sometimes you gotta make tough decisions. The man was nuts—you saw him.”
I mulled over Hurley’s explanation. The man was crazy. Crazy people happen. I shifted my sore jaw. We pulled into the parking lot of the church, where my mom wouldn’t see Hurley dropping me off. The rain had stopped, and all that was left were the clouds and the humidity. The air was cooler and calm. The thunder was distant again, moved onto somewhere else.
“I’ll see you later, Hurley,” I said, hefting my backpack. I opened the door and he put a hand on my arm.
“Hold on, kid,” he said. “Not everyone is cut out for this kind of work, but you got a knack. Don’t let it go to waste, I’m begging you. Be my apprentice. Help people. Hell, help yourself for once.”
I already knew my answer, but I nodded and smiled anyway. “I’ll think about it.”
He nodded back, accepting my response, letting me go. The sky was prematurely dark as I walked across the church lawn to the trailer park. I tur
ned back to see Hurley getting the truck into gear. He waved at me before pulling out onto the road.
Cooking smells filled the trailer, but I wasn’t hungry. My mom hummed as she stirred a large pot.
“Have fun at your friend’s?” she asked. She whacked her wooden spoon against the side of the pot, sending gravy splattering.
“Yeah,” I replied. “It was great.”
“Well, dinner will be ready in a few minutes if you wanna get cleaned up. It’s beef stew.”
“Oh, no thanks. I ate at Robbie’s house.”
She glanced up at me without really looking and opened the fridge. “That’s fine. You can have leftovers later, if you’re hungry. You get caught in the rain?”
“Yeah, but I’m fine. I’ll be in my room,” I said and walked back, trying to seem nonchalant. My shoes were still wet, but they weren’t making squishing noises anymore. If she noticed my backpack was dry, she didn’t say.
I peeled my wet clothes off and draped them over my dresser drawers to drip dry. I put on clean clothes and reached into my backpack for the necklace Hurley had given me. I looked closer at it, watching the light play off the facets of the gold and the polish of the stone. As I held it in front of the ceiling lamp, heat waves visibly wafted from the purple gem.
Illustration by Yingying Jiang
“Honey, are you sure you don’t want something to eat?” My mom pushed the door open, and I shoved the necklace under my pillow. She was carrying a steaming bowl, the smell making my stomach churn.
“I said I’m good, Mom!” I cried. “And I want a lock on my door! Jeez!”
“Ha—you can get a lock when you start paying the bills. Is it so wrong of me to try and take care of you? God forbid I try to feed my son,” she said louder than necessary as she walked back into the hallway.
“I’m putting your dinner in the fridge!” she yelled.
L. Ron Hubbard Presents Writers of the Future Volume 35 Page 37