by P. T. Hylton
Zed couldn’t move. His eyes were drawn to the watch like iron files to a magnet.
“Come to think of it, it’s better if you don’t look, either.” Charlie snapped his hand shut and stuffed the watch into his pocket.
Zed ate the rest of his lunch in silence. He knew he should be making friendly conversation with Charlie. He should try to undo some of the damage he’d done by openly gawking at the watch. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was all he could do to keep his jaw working around his sandwich.
He’d learned two important pieces of information. First, Charlie wouldn’t allow the watch to be stolen. All Zed’s fantasies of pickpocketing it or tricking Charlie into thinking he’d lost it were never going to happen. Charlie would protect that watch with everything he had. All the buddying up to Charlie wouldn’t change that. Second, Zed had learned how far he was willing to go to get the watch.
As he choked down his sandwich, he considered how he’d do it. He had to be careful, but he also had to be quick. Charlie’s job could take him to another city at any point. Or he and Zed’s mom could stop seeing each other. He resolved to act at the first opportunity.
Zed suspected Charlie might be visiting his mother in the night. The idea didn’t bother him really; he was too focused on the watch to be distracted by something like his mother giving it up to this traveling salesman or whatever he was. In fact, the idea excited him. Because it gave him a great opportunity. If Charlie was visiting in the night, he was always gone by the time Zed woke up. Which meant sometime during the night he would have to descend the stairs.
Zed prepared. Zed waited. And the next night he set his alarm to wake him every hour. And each time it did, he would creep to his mother’s bedroom and listen at the door until he heard the quiet snore that convinced him she was asleep. Then he’d carefully inch the door open to confirm she was alone.
The first night was a bust. But the second night, when his alarm woke him at one a.m. and he listened at his mother’s door, he heard a combination of giggles, moans, and squeals that confirmed Charlie had indeed come calling.
It might disturb most eleven-year-old boys to hear such noises coming from their mother’s bedroom, but Zed just smiled and went to work.
He tied the fishing line across the top of the staircase, securing the ends to the banister on each side with a tight double-hitch knot. He placed the line six inches off the ground, which he figured was low enough that it would still trip Charlie, but high enough he wasn’t likely to accidentally step over it. With that job done, he went to the bottom of the staircase, sat just around the corner, and waited.
It couldn’t have been more than an hour, but Zed drifted off into a dream of flying. He suddenly jerked awake at the sound of a floorboard creaking. He was instantly alert. He had to be. The floorboard squeak came again, and he knew it was Charlie creeping through the hall.
Just as Zed hoped, Charlie didn’t turn on the light in the hallway. He was probably afraid it would wake Zed. That mistake would cost him.
Zed took a deep breath and let it out slowly, silently counting as he did so, mentally guessing where Charlie was in the hallway, how close he was to the staircase.
Before the breath was gone, a surprised grunt came from the top of the stairs, followed by a series of thumps that shook the house. Then Charlie was lying at the foot of the stairs.
Zed stood, clutching a heavy fire poker in his hands. It was dark, but Zed’s eyes had adjusted. He stepped around the corner and saw Charlie lying on the ground. The man let out a moan.
His leg was twisted beneath him at an odd angle, but other than that he didn’t appear to be hurt. Zed had hoped Charlie would break his neck. No matter. He had the fire poker.
Charlie squinted up at him. “Zed? Help me—“
He’d barely gotten the word out before Zed brought the poker down on Charlie’s head, slamming it into his skull three times, driving the point of it into his face.
Charlie screamed and thrashed, so Zed kept striking until the man stopped moving.
When he was sure it was safe, Zed crouched down and reached for Charlie’s right pocket, the one he’d seen him put the watch in a few times. He paused, suddenly sure the watch wouldn’t be there, that Charlie had left it at home, that he’d killed this man for nothing. He took a deep breath.
He thrust his hand into the pocket. Relief flooded through him as he touched the watch. He pulled it out and held it to his chest.
Finally. He had it.
He may have stood like that for hours, frozen in rapture, but then Charlie let out a weak, wheezing breath. Zed was suddenly unsure what to do. Rather, he knew what he needed to do but was afraid to do it. He couldn’t have Charlie coming after him for the watch. The police, sure. But not Charlie. Worse, if Charlie lived he could tell his Boss about Zed. And Zed didn’t want that.
He pulled out his pocket knife, the same one he’d been sharpening on the morning he’d met Charlie, and cut the man’s throat. He had never done anything like that before, and the work was far more physically taxing than he would have imagined. Sawing into a person’s throat, even with a knife as sharp as Zed’s, was no easy task. And the blood! There was so much of it. Zed’s hands, shirt and the floor around him where all slick with it by the time he was finished. He surveyed the body with it’s gaping neck wound and felt confident he’d done a thorough job. There was no doubt in his mind that Charlie was dead.
Zed washed up quickly in the kitchen and changed into the clothes he’d left hidden there. He left his bloody pajamas on the kitchen floor, making no effort to hide them. Maybe the police would think he’d been kidnapped by the killer, or maybe they’d realized right away that he’d committed the crime. Zed didn’t care either way. Soon he’d be just another nameless runaway.
He grabbed the bag he’d hidden under the sink. It contained a few changes of clothes and the three hundred dollars his mother hid in the basement, all her savings.
Zed paused at the doorway, and he felt an unexpected moment of fear. He was alone now. The police would be looking for him. His mother would be looking for him. Then he felt the cold weight of the watch in his pocket, and he felt at peace.
He walked out the door, boarded the first train east, and never returned to Topeka.
CHAPTER THREE: THE ROUGH-SHOD READERS
1.
Frank looked up at the building in front of them.
“So this is where we start?” Sophie asked.
Frank nodded. If he were being honest, he had no idea what he was doing. This was all new to him. Except, that wasn’t exactly true, was it? Zed had asked for his help finding something before: Frank’s brother Jake. He’d asked through his lackey Becky Raymond, but he’d asked. And look how well that had turned out.
Frank tried to insert some confidence into his voice. “Well, we are looking for a book.”
The King’s Crossing Public Library was a large, modern-looking structure made of glass and steel. It positively gleamed in the morning light. The building looked out of place in downtown King’s Crossing, an area that trended toward traditional architecture with a smattering of falling apart thrown in for good measure. The library was unique among its peers.
“So, what, we just check the card catalogue?” Sophie asked. “Or computer catalogue? Whatever they call them now.”
“I don’t know.” Frank sighed. “We have to start somewhere. I’m going with my gut, okay? My gut tells me, you want a book, try the library.”
Sophie turned to Mason. “What do you think? You had some sort of mystical connection to the book in Sanctuary. Are you going to be able to work your voodoo on this book, too?”
Frank was curious whether Mason would answer. The older man had been quiet ever since they’d left the shed an hour ago.
“I don’t know,” Mason said. “I’ve never been inside a library. I barely even know how to read.”
“Seriously?” Sophie asked. “You did okay with that other book.”
&n
bsp; “That was different. It spoke to me.”
Something at the edge of the parking lot caught Frank’s eye.
“You two go on ahead and get started,” he said. “I need to check something.”
Sophie arched her eyebrows. “What are we supposed to get started doing?”
“I don’t know. Look around. See if anything seems out of place. Haven’t you ever investigated a small town with a secret before?”
With that, he walked toward the man leaning against a tree at the edge of the lot. The man was just standing there glowering like some sort of teenaged rebel who thought he was tough. He wasn’t looking at Frank, but he wasn’t not looking at him either.
It was Matt, the guy with the high and tight haircut.
Frank strode toward him with purpose. “Kinda strange running into you again so soon.”
“Not really,” Matt said, his face expressionless. “Small town.”
Frank stopped a few feet away from the man. A bit of stubble had sprung onto Frank’s face over the past couple days of travel, and it itched something fierce. He scratched at his cheek. “You wouldn’t happen to be following us, would you?”
Matt coolly met his gaze. “I was here before you.”
“That’s been happening a lot lately.”
“Maybe you’re predictable.”
This was getting Frank nowhere. This game of who’s cooler was infuriating. “Okay. If I’m predictable, that means you came here because you knew I’d be here. So, I ask again, are you following me?”
Matt’s eyes flickered and a slight smile cracked his face. He was trying to hide something and it seemed to be something funny, maybe even something happy.
“The truth?” Matt said. “Zed sent me. Not to spy on you, exactly. More like to be available if you needed anything. You have any questions, need any local insight, I’m your man.”
Frank’s gaze caught on the Roman numeral tattooed on the man’s wrist. “You know, Zed came to my town a long time ago. Well, maybe not a long time ago, but it sure feels that way. He had a plan, but it didn’t work out. He said he was there to help us. Turned out that wasn’t the case. Still, some people in my town wear a tattoo to show they’re loyal to him.”
Matt followed Frank’s eyes to his own tattoo. “That’s not what ours are about.”
“Then what are they about?”
Matt shook his head. There was something in his eye. Vulnerability, maybe. “Not yet. Not here.”
“You said you were here to help me if I had any questions.”
“I am,” Matt said. “Believe me when I tell you I want, no, need you to succeed. I have a family.”
“And you believe that stuff about the world ending if I don’t find the book?”
No hesitation. “Yes.” He gritted his teeth for a moment. “And it’s not just the book. There’s more to it than that.” He looked past Frank into the blue sky. “I have a wife. And a daughter. I would take them and leave town if I thought it would help. But in a week I’ll be just as dead on the coast as I would be here. At least here I can try to do something about it.”
“Seems like you’ve got a lot of trust in Zed.”
“No,” Matt said. “I’ve got a lot of trust in you.”
The words shocked Frank. He opened his mouth to reply but realized he had no idea what to say.
“Look,” Matt continued, “the book’s not in the library. You’re wasting your time.”
Frank scratched at his neck. Damn whiskers. “Okay. You got a better suggestion where to start?”
“I do.” The man glanced at Frank in a conspiratorial manner that would not have been out of place in Regulation-era Rook Mountain. “Thing is, I know some stuff I haven’t exactly shared with Zed.”
“And you’re willing to share it with a guy you just met?”
Again, no hesitation. “Yes. We can go now. We’ll take my car.”
“I need to get my friends first,” Frank said.
“Don’t worry about them. They’ll be busy for a while.”
Frank shook his head. “You might trust me, but the feeling isn’t mutual. Not yet. No way I’m leaving without them.”
Matt paused for a moment as if considering it. “Fine. Go get them. I’ll be waiting here when you come out.”
Frank nodded. There was something strange about the way the man spoke to him. Too familiar.
Just another crazy Zed Head. Even though he claimed he didn’t trust Zed, he’d been there at the shed that morning. He’d helped Zed put his plan into action.
But Frank couldn’t completely dismiss the look in the man’s eye. Frank considered himself a pretty good judge of character. He had needed to be in prison, where looking at the wrong person at the wrong moment could start a beef that would lead to someone ending up in the infirmary, the SHU, or worse.
Matt might be crazy, but he believed what he was saying. Of that, Frank was certain.
Frank turned and walked toward the library.
2.
The best part about being able to Pull Back time was that there were no consequences. It was also the worst part.
Alice had recently read the first couple of Harry Potter books. She’d loved them, but the one thing she’d thought about the most was the Invisibility Cloak. It had felt so familiar, but also so sad. To have to wear that cloak in order to find out secrets…
Whenever Alice wanted to find a secret, she just nosed around until she found it. If someone saw her, well, she’d just Pull Back time a little and she’d still have the information. She’d like to see Professor Snape try to bust her. Not likely.
She knew in her heart consequences were, deep down, a good thing. They existed to keep people safe. You didn’t jump off a building because, while the falling part might be kinda fun, the landing definitely wasn’t.
Alice’s problem was she could experience the fall and not have to deal with the landing. She was often tempted to try things, things she definitely shouldn’t, things that were dangerous, even to her. Like, when she’d been swimming last week. Something inside her had wanted very badly to sit at the bottom of the pool until she couldn’t take it anymore, until she just had to breathe in water. And as the darkness closed in on her, she would Pull Back. Then she would know what it felt like to drown without the messy dying part. Or even the having to get mouth-to-mouth from that pimply-faced teenaged lifeguard part.
Dangerous things like that attracted her and frightened her at the same time. What if the day came when she couldn’t fight them? What if she’d given in and accidentally drowned herself? Or what if she jumped off a bridge, miscalculated, and hit the water before she thought she would? Then she would be dead, just like so many other dumb daredevil kids. And she couldn’t Pull Back from death.
At least she didn’t think so.
Alice woke up at ten-thirty that morning. It was, as far as she could remember, the latest she’d ever slept. She woke up just as tired as she’d been when she’d gone to sleep four hours earlier when her dad and Mr. Willis had left. She’d listened at the top of the stairs as they went out the door, just as she had earlier that night when her dad had killed Willis.
She guessed she was skipping school today. That didn’t bum her out too badly. It was like a surprise snow day.
She tried not to think too much about the times with double memories. At three thirty that morning, she’d technically been both sitting at the top of the stairs watching her father kill a man and lying in bed thinking about that killing. It made her dizzy, but she found if she picked one memory and pushed the other one away, she was usually fine.
When Dad and Willis left that morning, Alice had heard the words Volunteer Park and shed, so it didn’t take a third-grade science fair winner like Alice to figure out where they were going. The question was why. And she didn’t like unanswered questions.
After she got out of bed, she headed down to the kitchen. Mom tended to cook when she was nervous; most other times she let Alice’s dad do it. This morning
she must have been leaning over the edge of insanity, because she’d made waffles, fruit salad, sausage, and bacon.
Alice stopped at the door to the kitchen, plotting her next move. That food smelled really good. She wanted nothing more than to sit down and eat until she couldn’t eat anymore. But…wouldn’t that food taste even better when she got back?
Her mind made up, she turned and walked out of the kitchen.
“Honey?” Mom asked. “Where you going? Breakfast is ready.”
“I’m going to the bathroom, Mom.”
Alice headed toward the nearest bathroom, the one off the living room, went inside, and turned on the light and the fan. As a final measure, she pressed the button lock on the doorknob. Then she left the bathroom and pulled the locked door shut behind her. That would buy her some time.
She walked to the front door, eased it open, took a final look back to make sure Mom wasn’t watching, and slipped out, closing the door as gently as possible.
A clean escape. Ha. Who needed an Invisibility Cloak?
It was a six block walk to Volunteer Park. She moved quickly and with purpose. If she dawdled, some well-meaning stranger might think she was lost and offer her help. What a pain that would be. So she moved as if her destination was right around the next corner.
As she walked, she couldn’t help but feel just a little bit guilty. Mom hadn’t had an easy night, and now Alice was kind of piling it on her. She might have realized Alice wasn’t in the bathroom by now. She wasn’t above popping the lock to the bathroom door and coming in if Alice didn’t answer her calls. She was probably searching the house, starting to get a little frantic. Yelling things like, “Come out! This isn’t funny!” and “Okay, you win. Hide and seek champion of the family.” Soon she’d be calling Dad. Then maybe the police.
It wasn’t like Alice felt great about it. But once she saw what she needed to see, she’d Pull Back and sit down for breakfast with Mom, being sure to act extra friendly and cheerful. From Mom’s perspective, it would have never happened. So there was nothing wrong with that, right?