The Conch Shell of Doom

by Ryan Hill

  It was easy to see the gears churning in Julie’s head, wondering if she’d made a mistake bailing him out. Franklin could see it in her brown eyes. She was trying to figure out if he meant to rob, rape, hurt, or kill her, not necessarily in that order. Julie’s arm dropped from his shoulder as she took a few steps back.

  “I like to keep off the radar. That’s it.” He held up his hand. “Swear to God. I’m not wanted for murder, or anything like that.”

  Julie didn’t buy what he was selling. “All right then, so why did you get arrested? Why do you go around using an alias?”

  “It’s a safety net.” Franklin lowered his hand. “It lets me get in and out of places unnoticed.”

  “Are you a bounty hunter or something?”

  Franklin started to laugh, but the broken rib put an abrupt end to that. “I guess that’s one way to put it.”

  “What’d you do to get locked up?”

  “I broke into a museum.”

  Julie crossed her arms. Her lips twitched. More gears turning. “That’s a pretty stupid thing to do.”

  Franklin couldn’t tell if she was baiting him or not, but he was definitely losing her. “Look. You don’t know me from Adam, and it’s probably better that way.” He almost said that people around him tended to get hurt, but that wouldn’t exactly smooth things over. “Thank you for getting me out. Sincerely. If you want, I’ll tell you where my car is parked, you can get the money out of the trunk, leave the key behind one of the tires, and I’ll be on my way. You’ll never have to see me again.”

  He held out the Mustang’s key for Julie to take, but she didn’t move; only locked gazes with him. It made him shiver, like she stared straight through life’s static and into his soul, seeing him for who he really was. The only other person to do that to him was Molly.

  “What I saw last night was crazy.” She laid a hand on the roof of her car. “Beyond crazy. It’s all I’ve been able to think about.”

  “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

  Julie laughed. Right? “It’s why I bailed you out. I need to wrap my head around this. You don’t strike me as a creepster, and I’ll feed you your balls if you try anything, but whatever you’re into, I doubt it could be much worse than last night. Right?”

  Franklin tried to smile, but the cut on his lip stung too much. Julie had no idea. There was too much time to make up, so if she wanted in, who was he to stop her?

  “Take me to my car and there’s another five hundred in it for you,” Franklin said. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

  “Okay, Franklin.” Julie held out her hand. He shook it. “You’ve got a deal. But, I mean it. Any games and I’ll do more than break your heart.”

  He rubbed his chest. “That won’t take much. It’s already a little achy.”

  Julie opened the door and got in, groaning. “I’m going to regret this.”

  The passenger door unlocked, and Franklin gingerly got into the seat, taking care not to upset his ribs or the fifty other spots that hurt. The car shook as the door slammed shut, the vibrations making his body ache for a second. “You didn’t like that one?”

  “I’ve heard worse.”

  She slid the key into the ignition and turned. The Camaro came to life. Franklin was happy to be free of the police station, though not so much about the hours lost. Breaking into the museum for the Shell was a calculated risk that didn’t pay off. It would’ve put an end to the Awakening much earlier than he’d initially thought, but now? Trenton had most likely reconnected with the Shell, completing phase one.

  Julie took a right onto the street. The Camaro’s engine purred as the police station disappeared in the background. Julie flipped the radio’s volume down to zero. “Time to hear this story of yours.”

  Franklin, lost in thought about the Awakening, took a moment to figure out what she’d asked. With his brain caught up, he explained everything. The Shell, Trenton, breaking into the museum, his true age, all of it. If last night bothered Julie so much, Franklin guessed she’d at least believe parts of what he said.

  Julie nodded, taking everything in. She hmmed. “You’re an escaped mental patient, aren’t you? Is Dr. Loomis going to be knocking on my door, warning me about you?”

  “Funny.” Franklin was disappointed. She didn’t believe any of the parts. “You’re safe. Halloween is a few months away.”

  “Seriously. Have you ever heard a story like that out loud?”

  “I guess my threshold for craziness is higher than most.” He touched a squishy welt on his forehead. Yep. Still hurt. He watched as they passed a closed strip mall. Didn’t matter if someone was two thousand years old or twenty, life was still life. Things rose, things fell, but life always went on.

  “So, do you see everybody as kids?” Julie’s question broke his train of thought. “Being thousands of years old and all? I’m almost thirty and people a few years younger than me look like they just got out of diapers.”

  “I used to, but I don’t age. After a while, people just become people, you know? Some just have more experience than others. To be honest, I still don’t really consider myself an adult. I’m old, no doubt about that, but an adult?” He made a mezzo-mezzo motion. “Eh.”

  Julie snorted. “I bet you clean up on the senior citizen discounts.”

  Franklin tightened his abs, trying to control the laughter. Once the moment passed, he decided to change the subject. “So, you own the Thirsty Alligator?”

  “Yep.”

  Franklin smiled, remembering something from earlier. He couldn’t believe how nice it was to have a fun conversation with someone. It’d been so long. “I have to admit, I considered burning down the bar if you didn’t bail me out.”

  “Wow.” Julie’s eyes went wide. The Camaro slowed down at a red light. “I’m not sure how to respond to that. Thanks?”

  “You’re welcome.” Franklin hated that he’d brought up the potential arson. It was meant as a joke but went over like a cannonball trying to float in the ocean. He really needed to improve his game, or whatever people called talking to the opposite sex these days. “How long have you owned the Thirsty Alligator?”

  “The last couple of years. It was originally my husband’s.” The light turned green, and Alexis drove through the intersection. “After the Army, the only thing he wanted was to find a place where he could drink all night and get paid to do it.”

  “Where did he serve?”

  “Iraq and Afghanistan. He was a really good man before.”

  Franklin felt for Julie. PTSD was rough. There wasn’t a name for it almost two thousand years ago, but he suffered through bouts of it after preventing a couple of Awakenings. He killed so many people. Like everything else in his existence, enough time passed to where everything turned into a distant memory. Didn’t stop him from sympathizing with others. “What about after?”

  Julie sighed, trying to figure out the best way to word it. “Different. Went from a good man to a great drunk and an even worse businessman, which led to him getting on the bad side of some folks that made a living off torturing people that got on their bad side.”

  Franklin hated it for her. The year may be different, along with the place and situation, but the story almost always remained the same. “I’m sorry. Where is he now?”

  Julie shrugged. “Left this town over a year ago and never looked back, the bastard.”

  Five minutes later, they were back at Franklin’s Mustang. Julie parked the Camaro a few spots down from El Cid. He banged his head on the roof as he got out, which was probably karma paying him back for letting El Cid see him get out of her sworn enemy. He took a quick walk around the car, checking for any marks or dings. By some miracle, the car was just as he left it.

  “Money’s in the trunk,” Franklin said.

  “Give me the keys.”

  Franklin hesitated for a moment, not sure what she was getting at. If she wanted them so badly, why didn’t she take them earlier?

  “You
want me to trust you? Believe that crazy story?” She held out her hand. “Sorry, but I’m not going to let you knock me out and take me to some secret torture chamber. Consider it the price of doing business.”

  Franklin liked her no nonsense style. Too many people liked to play games. He tossed her the keys, a wry smile on his face.

  “Stand by my car.” Julie pointed at the Camaro. “I don’t want you doing anything rash.”

  “You got it.” Franklin did as she asked and then watched her open the trunk.

  Julie leaned over, digging around. Franklin liked the way she looked bent over like that. She looked back at him, his eyes darting to the side. It felt a little bashful to get caught staring at a woman. Julie picked up a black duffle bag.

  “In here?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma'am.”

  Julie unzipped it. If she was surprised by how much money was in there, she didn’t let on. She pulled out a stack of hundreds and went through them, one by one.

  “Take twenty of them, which will be two grand.” Franklin moved the wrong way, and three different spots, including his ribs, burst into excruciating pain. He leaned against the Camaro, trying to get his breath. Those cops gave him a worse beating than he thought.

  “Ever heard of a bank?” Julie patted the duffel bag.

  “Of course. That’s just my traveling money, for when I’m on the lam from the loony bin.”

  Julie gasped and took a step back, looking terrified.

  Franklin held up a hand. “Kidding.”

  She folded the bills and stuffed them into her purse. “You’re funny. Never met a funny immortal before.”

  “Met a lot of us, have you?”

  Julie winked. “At least you don’t come off as some awful Twilight spinoff.”

  “I hope not.” It took him a second to realize she was kidding. “What do I come off as?”

  “A man in need of a shave.” She closed the trunk and then handed him his keys.

  “Great.” Franklin pushed himself off the Camaro, doing his best to stand up straight. “That’s exactly the look I’m going for. And, hey. You got your money. Do you trust me now?”

  Julie smirked and tilted her head, a gleam in her eyes. “I guess so.”

  “I’ll take it.” He took short steps to El Cid. “You take care of yourself.”

  She let out a surprised uh. “That’s it?”

  “What else is there?”

  “You’re going to find that other guy, aren’t you? Mr. Lovell?”

  “Alone.” Franklin laid his arm on the Mustang’s roof.

  Julie moved to El Cid’s passenger door. “With the way you’ve been worked over? I doubt you’ll get very far.”

  “I’ll live.” Franklin started to get in the Mustang but stopped himself. “Also, why help me? Part of you thinks I escaped from the nuthouse.”

  Julie let out an exasperated groan. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m bored. Maybe, despite being arrested for breaking and entering, and probably for a whole bunch of other things, you seem like an okay guy. Stupid, but okay. Maybe I want to do something with my life besides go to work every day at a place that used to be owned by the man I loved. Pick one.” She walked around the car, not taking her eyes off Franklin. She was almost close enough to kiss if he wanted. “I know you’re a fighter. I can see that from a mile away. Doesn’t mean you can stop me from tagging along.”

  “I could.” Franklin bit the inside of his cheeks. Kissing her would probably make his lip bleed again, and getting blood on Julie’s mouth probably wasn’t the best idea.

  “How?” She sauntered in closer, lips curling into a smirk, a playful look in her eyes.

  “I don’t know. I guess I could drive away, leave you standing here.” Despite the smell of bar food coming from her hair, Franklin fell under the trance of her sexy look. Her lips grazed Franklin’s ear. He really hated those cops right now. If they weren’t such assholes, he’d be kissing a woman for the first time since the nineteenth century.

  “How are you going to do that?” Julie laughed under her breath. She stepped back, holding his keys in victory. “Especially when I have your keys?”

  He looked down at his hand. Impressive. To snatch the keys away from him like that meant the girl had some moves. Even though it meant putting her in danger, Franklin could use the help of someone that talented. Not that it would be the first, third, or twentieth time, but he felt a strengthening connection to Julie.

  “Okay,” he said. “You’re in. But from here on out, you’re working pro bono.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Black Death

  On any other day in the history of the universe, Bailey pissing himself in front of someone would’ve felt like the end of the world, the embarrassment crushing him like a trash compactor. He’d wish for some magical genie to turn him into a speck of dust so he could float away, never to be seen again. Stranger things had happened, like finding out a conch shell could destroy the world.

  None of that mattered anymore. Coming face-to-face with Mr. Lovell and his disgusting, burnt macaroni head, Bailey only thought about the possibility of living beyond the next few minutes. He was so scared chances were he’d never even notice his bladder emptying by itself.

  “What the hell is this?” Percy, eyes narrowed, asked in a high-pitched voice.

  “You tell me.” Mr. Lovell closed the door.

  Bailey glanced up at Percy and his bright yellow- and black-striped shirt. Bailey wondered if such a loud shirt could cause permanent eye damage.

  “Oh, man.” Percy pointed at Bailey and Alexis. “These are the ones from the museum.”

  “The museum?” Alexis tried to play dumb. “There’s a museum? Here? In this building? Huh.”

  Bailey swallowed, wetting his dry mouth. “I had no idea either.”

  “Quiet,” Mr. Lovell demanded. Everyone shut up, the air in the foyer thick with fear and the smell of stale cigarette smoke. “All of you. In the den.”

  Everyone did as directed. Tim sat on the love seat, while the rest of the kids took a seat on the couch. A basket of small, decorative shells lay on the coffee table, the irony of which wasn’t lost on Bailey. The console television looked heavy and wide, like it had been made in the nineties. A black cloth covered a mirror hanging on the wall. Bailey looked down at his feet, trying to keep his emotions under control.

  Marshall couldn’t take his eyes off of Mr. Lovell. “Scars. All over.”

  “Dude,” Bailey elbowed Marshall, trying to get him to calm down. If Bailey could fight through a fear that gave him cotton mouth, Marshall could as well. “Man up.”

  Marshall still kept his gaze on Mr. Lovell, who stood in front of the console TV, hands behind his back.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, looking straight at Marshall.

  “Looking for pirate treasure,” Marshall muttered.

  “Do you think this is the best time for jokes?” Mr. Lovell shouted. He shoved past Percy, standing over Marshall, who instinctively leaned in close to Bailey. “Are you afraid?”

  What a stupid question, Bailey thought. Of course they were! His fingers had been twitching the entire time. Marshall’s complexion paled. He tried to speak, but no sound came out.

  “Yes, we’re afraid,” Bailey said.

  Mr. Lovell turned to him. It was difficult to tell what went on underneath the sunglasses, but Bailey knew it couldn’t be good. Mr. Lovell laughed to himself and then stepped around the coffee table, away from them. “I guess you didn’t scare them as much as you thought.”

  “I did scare them. I scared them bad.” Percy paced around the room, running his fingers through his greasy hair. “Didn’t I scare you?”

  Bailey’s voice cracked. “Yeah you did.”

  “Especially right now,” Alexis said. “Trust me.”

  “Burnt meat,” Marshall croaked.

  Bailey wanted to strangle Marshall. Of all the times for that big mouth of yours to shut up.

  “We don’t n
eed to see our friend that bad.” Tim pulled out his cell phone. “Look, I’m texting him right now to say we’re sick and can’t make it.”

  “Don’t you dare try and text anyone!” Mr. Lovell’s scarred, booming voice made everyone in the room freeze, including Percy. Nobody moved for a few seconds. Tim’s mouth hung open, the phone falling through his fingers with a soft thud on the floor. Mr. Lovell’s sunglasses were pointed at Bailey. “You.”

  Damn, man. What’d I do?

  Bailey squeezed his fingers into a fist, trying to hold off the anxiety. Mr. Lovell spun in place, appearing with a crack in front of Bailey, who screamed. Mr. Lovell hissed, making sure to include all four of the kids in the act. The others joined in Bailey’s cries.

  “Your parents should’ve trusted me more on the dosage,” Mr. Lovell said.

  Bailey looked down at Tim’s shoes, too scared to look at the monster in front of him. Mr. Lovell’s skin reeked of formaldehyde. Never mind that, Bailey’s brain told him. Breathe it in, like it’s a ripe petunia. Mr. Lovell’s skin reeked, but it didn’t come close to his breath, which smelled like a maggot-infested, dead animal lived in his mouth. Bailey’s heart felt like a fist pounding the inside of his chest. He tried to keep from holding his nose, worried any movement would provoke a violent response.

  Hey, Bailey? Brain here. I’m clocking out. Sorry, you’re on your own.

  Mr. Lovell smiled, revealing pearly white teeth. It was a little off-putting considering most of him looked like a dried raisin. “They must have been afraid they would lose their child’s mind to the abyss.”

  Bailey closed his eyes, disappointment mixing with his fear. So. Ma and Pa Southwick really did try to wipe his memory. Bailey had hoped—no, known—they weren’t capable of such a thing. The two people genetically coded to be on his side were working against him. A piece of his soul broke off and disappeared. Sadness drowned out his fear. For the first time in his life, he felt truly alone.

  “Seems like you have some unfinished business with those two.” Marshall gestured at Bailey and Alexis. He had a hint of panic in his voice. “How about you let me go? I didn’t do anything to you.”