by Bruce Jones
“I don’t know, Scrooge, I just don’t know.”
“Since when? According to your book you know a lot.”
“It’s a—
“A non-fiction novel, right. Sorry, I forgot. A non-fiction novel. Like Capote.”
“Which you think is bullshit. You think I’m bullshit. The novel’s bullshit.”
“Made you rich.”
Richard winced at the spike in his head. “I see. That’s a hell of a thing to say just now.”
“You see very little. You don’t see shit, actually. Rather you see only what you want to see. While I see the truth…”
Richard had the sudden certainty—almost an epiphany—that if he were to walk into the lake he’d be free of the headache forever. “So you want to tell it, right, Scroogie? And ruin my career, my life. Out of revenge for Andy?”
“For Maser. For Shivers.”
“You blame me? Maser tried to kill you, for God’s sake!”
Scroogie was silent for a moment. Then, his voice as hateful as Richard had ever heard it: “I tried to kill myself, Rich. Maser saved my life. Just like he said!”
Richard felt as if he were literally struck in the skull. He shook his head, trying to will away the migraine.
“Everything was fine until you came back to town. Why the hell didn’t you stay out there on the coast?”
Richard paused, not sure he could speak.
“I was lousy at writing screenplays.”
“Novels then. Obviously you’re good at that.”
“…not really. Not until this one. I’m not sure there’s another in me.”
“He loved you.”
“Who?”
“Maser, of course. He loved all of us, all the Deadenders. That’s right; cool, pragmatic Maser, the brilliant physician. He wanted less than any of us to grow up.”
“What are you saying, Scroogie?”
“That he would have protected all of us, every one of us. That’s why he buried Andy, to protect you, because he knew he could keep his mouth shut and he knew he could get the rest of us to. Until you came back. With your dreams. Your monsters.”
“You had the dreams too, Scroogie—“
“You gave us the dreams! We all felt guilty enough, then you started talking about a dog-monster like a—“
Richard stiffened. “Like what?”
“Like a nut job! Like someone so consumed with guilt for killing a boy in his childhood that he spent his adulthood writing his own scenario of life, and making up anything that didn’t fit neatly into his broken psyche. You think any of us really believed in that garbage with the gold book and the Pyx and the wishes! We didn’t believe it back then, Richard, we sure as hell wouldn’t start believing it now! We were protecting you, Rich! All of us! From yourself!”
“Maser—“
“Maser most of all! He thought you were a brilliant talent! His best friend!”
“Really!” Richard jumped up from the lawn, a lance of pain shooting through his head. “Is that why he tried to seduce my wife?”
“You asshole.”
“Well! Is it?”
“You really are such a complete and total asshole. He didn’t seduce your wife, idiot. Allie seduced him, I know Allie told you so because Laurie let it slip. What she didn’t tell you, apparently, is that she fucked him in the process. Maser never stopped hating himself for it. Or her. But never you.”
“You’re lying, Scroogie…”
“Yeah? Think of him, Rich. Picture The Maze in your mind, get a good image of him. Does he really look like he was capable of shooting you, or anyone?”
Richard couldn’t see Scroogie in the dark anymore, not even the gleam of chrome on his wheelchair. Was he going blind? He took a step forward, hands out before him. “I-I don’t understand…when we uncovered Andy, he was there with a gun. He lifted the gun to--”
“To stick it under his chin, to shoot himself, probably. Forty-five years of lies, Rich. That’s a lot of sleepless nights. I should know.”
“Shivers shot him—“
“Out of guilt. Guilt for not shooting you that day in the woods with Andy. And guilt for not shooting Maser… all the years Maser begged him to. Begged us all to.”
“Scroogie, I can’t see! Where are you?”
“Don’t even think about it.”
“What--?”
“Walking off the knoll into the lake. Destroying poor Laurie the way you destroyed the rest of us. See, Rich, she still doesn’t know. That’s right. She’s a beautiful woman, a smart woman, smarter even than Allie maybe, but she was never a Deadender. Boys’ club. Remember? She’s an innocent.”
“Scroogie, I—“
“Oh shut up for chrissake, won’t you? Shut up and open your eyes for once!”
Richard opened his eyes.
“That’s better. Now say you will.”
“Will--?”
“Send the payments to the nursing home. Every month like you have been doing. I’ve grown accustomed to her mouth, Rich. It always makes my dick begin. Say it, Rich. Then get the hell out of my sight. Go back to L.A. with your childhood sweetheart. The secrets are all out, Rich-O. It’s your turn to start living with them.”
Richard felt a numbness against his heart. Was he dying? No, it was only his vibrating cell phone. He took it from his jacket. Laurie.
“Where are you, I’m all packed?”
Scroogie said she didn’t know…didn’t know…she was an innocent…
“I’m…just saying good-night to Scroogie.”
“Give him my love, huh?”
“I will.”
“Be home soon?”
“I will.”
“Hey. Guess what I’m wearing?”
“What.”
“Absolutely nothing. Just getting out of the bath and guess what? I went and packed my nightgown by mistake. Silly me. Have to sleep totally nude tonight, think you can stand it?”
And Richard suddenly realized that he felt nothing…no desire…never again…
“I’ll be home soon.”
“Richard? Darling? We’re going to have a wonderful life out there in L.A. I’m so excited! And so proud of you, so very proud of you after all you’ve done, all you’ve been through. You’re going to be a very famous writer. Well, I guess you already are! Hey? Love me?”
He could hear her breathing. Hear the whole world breathing.
“Love you.”
“Forever?”
“Forever.”
“Promise me one thing?”
“Yes.”
“No secrets. Not ever. Between us, no secrets. Just like with the Deadenders. ‘A Deadender never lies.’”
He felt himself cave in like a collapsed tunnel. He couldn’t speak for a moment, forgetting Laurie, forgetting her the way he’d forgotten the incident, turning inward, inward—
“Richard?”
He came back suddenly. And he knew he could never forget again.
“Promise me. Like your book.”
“My book?” He heard her soft chuckle. She loves me, she’ll always love me…
“Your bestseller, silly! Promises to Keep!”
He looked up. Scroogie was gone.
He could lie one more time…
“I promise…” he said softly.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
BRUCE JONES is the author of nine previous novels including (under the pseudonym Bruce Elliot) the bestselling STILL LIFE, plus numerous screenplays, teleplays and graphic novels. Jones won the Upcoming Author of the Year award from the Bertelsman Book Club. He lives with his wife, novelist and screenwriter April Campbell Jones, and their dogs Pete and Lily. The Joneses spend their time in the ethers between Los Angeles and the Midwest.
OTHER NOVELS OF TERROR BY BRUCE JONES COMING SOON!
Shimmer
The Tarn
Sliders
AND DON’T MISS THESE GENRE- BENDING CRIME NOVELS BY BRUCE JONES:
Sprinter
Maximum V
elocity
Game Running
Stalker’s Moon
In Deep
Tarotown
Twisted Tales (short stories)
AND WRITING AS BRUCE ELLIOT:
Still Life
Death Rites
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