She couldn’t say “where Bonnie lived” because she wasn’t alive. Not really. The machines might cause her body to breathe, but that wasn’t living.
The caretakers had come to know Karen and trust her. She signed in and went to Bonnie’s room, where she closed the door behind her.
“Hello, my love.”
She knew how all the machinery worked, from her job at the Mayberry Care Center, and she was able to disable the monitors, so no alarms would be raised at the front desk.
She sat on the bed beside Bonnie and gently rubbed her hair.
“You always had such beautiful blonde hair,” she said. “I loved touching it. I loved our life together.”
Karen leaned over and kissed Bonnie on her cheek one last time. She wanted to kiss her lips, but the tube allowing her to breathe snaked down her throat.
Then she put her hands around the frail neck and squeezed. At first she didn’t do it hard enough, and Bonnie’s body kept breathing. She squeezed harder and harder, and she finally felt Bonnie shaking a little bit … at least she thought she did. She kept it up, finding it hard to see through the tears but telling herself she needed to release the woman she loved.
Eventually, the monitors showed Bonnie’s vital signs at zero. She had no idea how long it took. Time was standing still in a very different way for her.
Karen lay down beside her beautiful angel and kissed her cheek one last time. She closed her eyes and tried to remember all the good times they’d had together. She held Bonnie, whispered “I love you,” and waited for the police to arrive.
THE END
About John R. Little
John R. Little published his first short story in 1982 and hasn’t stopped since. He’s published a dozen books so far and has many more ideas finding their way to print. John won the Bram Stoker award for Miranda in 2009 and was nominated two other times (The Memory Tree and Ursa Major). His most recent books are Little by Little and Ursa Major.
Outcast
JournalStone’s DoubleDown Series, Book V
By
Mark Allan Gunnells
JournalStone
San Francisco
Copyright © 2014 by Mark Allan Gunnells
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
JournalStone books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:
JournalStone
www.journalstone.com
The views expressed in this work are solely those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
ISBN: 978-1-940161-60-0 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-940161-61-7 (ebook)
ISBN: 978-1-940161-62-4 (hc – limited edition)
JournalStone rev. date: August 22, 2014
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014942804
Printed in the United States of America
Cover Design: Denise Daniel
Cover Art: M. Wayne Miller
Cover Photograph © Shutterstock.com and © iStock.com
Edited by: Dr. Michael R. Collings
To John Little. Thanks for the inspiration, the support, and the friendship.
Prologue
Karen looked down at the closest tombstone. She’d been walking for almost an hour and still hadn’t found exactly what she’d been looking for.
For that matter, she wasn’t sure she even knew for herself exactly what she was seeking. The one she was looking at now had a woman’s name followed by:
* * *
Born July 4, 1960, Died December 10, 1999
Beloved Mother and Artist
She Brought Life to Those Close to Her
* * *
A gust of wind blew some loose strands of Karen’s long blonde hair so they covered her view. She pushed them back behind her ears.
“Is that the one?”
The voice behind her was gentle but insistent.
“Are you getting tired of looking?”
Karen smiled as she turned to face Bobby. He stood a respectful two feet behind her, as if he were trying to give her all the privacy she might need while still being there to offer any emotional support.
Not bloody likely, she thought.
Bobby was nineteen years old, just like she was. Somehow, though, he looked older. If she didn’t know better, she’d peg him at about twenty-five. He was tall, rugged, and handsome, exactly the kind of guy who would turn girls’ heads wherever he went. His deep voice made her wonder if he could have had a future in radio.
Karen, on the other hand, knew she barely looked seventeen, let alone nineteen. She was slim and short and never seemed to fill out like other girls her age.
“Sorry, I didn’t intend to sound impatient,” he said. “Take all the time you want. Time is the one thing both of us have lots of.”
Karen nodded. “I just need to find the right one.”
Bobby smiled. “I know. Really, it’s okay.”
“I’m not sure anything will be okay ever again.”
Bobby didn’t answer. What could he say to that?
Karen looked at him with the hint of emotion in her eyes, but she was determined not to let a single tear drop. She tried to detach herself and just concentrate on Bobby’s face—the dark brown eyes; the pitch-black, curly hair; the dimples she knew would appear when he smiled.
She exhaled a long breath and turned back to the headstone. “I wonder what kind of art she practiced.”
“Do you want to check? You can Google it on your iPhone. Shouldn’t be hard to find if she really accomplished anything.”
Karen shook her head. “In a way I’d rather imagine my own truth. I think she loved to put together collages from nature, picking up stray oak and maple leaves wherever she went and then spending hours rearranging them to tell a story.”
She knelt and touched the granite stone, feeling the etchings of some of the letters.
“This isn’t the one,” she said finally.
Bobby joined her as she walked past a few more tombstones. None of them interested her. Only a few had called to her so far.
The sun was starting to set behind them, casting a long shadow through the graveyard. Karen knew Bobby just wanted her to find the right damned stone so they could leave, but it wasn’t that easy. It had to be the right one.
If she couldn’t find it, she’d come back tomorrow, and the day after that.
“Did you know there’re two thousand people buried here?” asked Bobby.
She ignored him. A cool breeze blew, and she felt goose bumps rise on her arms. All of a sudden she moved to her right and fell to her knees in front of an old weathered stone.
“This is the one,” she said. “I found her.”
Chapter 1
Karen first met Bobby in the campus library, which seemed somehow appropriate. She was shelving in the fiction section, had just wheeled her cart around a corner, and saw him standing right in the middle of the aisle, staring intently at the spines on the shelf in front of him. He seemed unaware of her presence, despite the squeaky wheel on the cart. She watched him for a moment, not speaking. Karen didn’t recognize him from around campus, but Furman University was a fairly large school. He was cute, whoever he was.
Chastising herself for acting like some stalker, Karen cleared her throat and said, “Excuse me, can I help you find anything?”
At first he didn’t react, then he turned his head slowly in her direction. “Are you talking to me?”
“I don’t see anyone else in this aisle.”
“Sorry, I just...I thought I was alone.”
“Well, don’t mind me.” Karen starting taking books off her cart and finding their appropriate places on the shelves. She glanced over her shoulder to find the dark-haired boy watching her, much as she had watched him earlier. The shoe on the other stalker’s foot, as it were.
“Are you sure I can’t help you with something?”
He looked from Karen to the cart then back again. “You’re a librarian?”
“Well, I work here as part of my work-study.”
“So you’re...a student?”
Karen smiled, feeling a blush creeping into her cheeks. “Freshman. I know, I look like I’m a freshman in high school, but I’ll be nineteen just after New Year’s. I’m Karen Richardson.”
“Bobby Jersey.”
“You a senior?”
“Um, no. I’m just nineteen myself.”
“Really, I would have pegged you for older. Something about the eyes. Maybe you’re just an old soul.”
“Thanks...I think.”
“It’s a compliment. Most people our age are so trivial. You know?”
“I guess. I don’t exactly have a lot of friends so I’ll take your word for it.”
This intrigued Karen. Bobby was a good-looking guy; it was hard for her to fathom him not having any friends. Then again, he seemed uncomfortable talking to her. Perhaps there was a bit of social anxiety at work.
One Intro to Psych class and you think you’re a psychiatrist.
Bobby turned back to the shelf and resumed perusing the titles. Not really wanting the conversation to end, Karen said, “Are you looking for anything in particular?”
“Not really. I’m just seeing what some of my favorite authors have out these days. I haven’t been able to read anything new in a while.”
“Oh, I know what you mean. With all the schoolwork my professors have been piling on, pleasure reading is a thing of the past. Sometimes I take my iPhone with me to the bathroom thinking I’ll do some reading then, but I just end up playing SongPop.”
Bobby was staring at her with one corner of his mouth lifted in a bemused half smile. Great Karen, five minutes into meeting a cute guy, you’re talking to him about going to the bathroom. This is just the sort of thing Brittany is talking about when she says you’ve got zero flirting skills.
“So, do you live on campus?” Karen asked, desperate to change the subject.
“Uh, no, actually....”
“Got your own apartment?”
“No, I’m still with my Mom.”
“Hey, no shame in that. If I was local, I’d probably do the same.”
“Where are you from?”
“West Virginia...but don’t hold that against me.”
A full smile blossomed on Bobby’s face. “Well, Greenville, South Carolina, isn’t exactly a metropolis.”
“I think it’s a great city. The downtown area is gorgeous. Have you been to Coffee Underground?”
Bobby shook his head. “I don’t get out much.”
Karen wasn’t sure what to say to that. A mournful sadness wafted from Bobby like a scent. The source was unclear, but it cut deep.
“I should get going,” Bobby finally said, already backing down the aisle. “It was nice meeting you. Maybe we’ll run into each other again.”
“It’s possible. I think I’m here more than I am in my dorm room.”
“I’m here a lot myself.”
Then he turned the corner and was gone. Karen stood there for a moment, feeling slightly dizzy, then returned to shelving.
* * *
Karen was almost out the door when she saw Ms. Young standing behind the counter. It was the librarian’s usual spot, and the woman was wearing the vaguely perplexed expression that was almost continually stamped on her face. She had a reputation for being flighty, but Karen actually found the woman to be interesting.
“Excuse me, Ms. Young. Do you have a moment?”
“Karen, I need you to call me Penelope like we talked about.”
“Sorry, Penelope. I just wanted to thank you for my bracelet.”
“You’re more than welcome, dear. I remember you were admiring my necklace last week.”
Karen glanced at the librarian’s neck. The woman handcrafted jewelry as a hobby, and Karen had in fact commented on the necklace Penelope always wore. It was woven from colored strands of leather, with small beads and feathers dangling from it. Looked almost Native American. She had made Karen a similar bracelet and presented it to her earlier.
“It’s really lovely. Are you sure I can’t pay you a little something for it?”
“You don’t pay for a gift; that’s what makes it a gift.”
“Well, I do love it.”
“You’re not just saying that to humor a kooky old woman, are you?”
“No, sincerely. Thank you so much.”
“And it’s not just pretty; it’ll also bring you good luck.”
“Good luck?” Karen asked, fingering the woven strands.
“Yes. In fact…” Here Penelope paused for a moment. “I think we’ve developed a rapport of sorts since you started working here. Maybe even become friends.”
Karen nodded. “I think so too.”
“Well, I feel a kinship between us, so I feel comfortable sharing something with you. I know people around here think I’m some folksy hippie chick, but you may have also heard the rumor that I’m an atheist.”
“Well, I don’t put much stock in rumors. Besides, what would it matter if you were?”
“Right here smack dab in the buckle of the Bible Belt...trust me, it would matter a great deal. But it’s not true, I’m not an atheist.”
“I was raised Baptist myself.”
Penelope smiled. “Well, my religion is a bit older than that.”
This got Karen’s attention. “Are you talking about...Wicca?”
“Not exactly, at least not as you probably understand it. Modern Wicca is a version of what I’m talking about, but one that has been watered-down over the centuries. Recently it’s also been commercialized, almost sanitized. No, what I’m talking about is much older and more potent. I just think of what I practice as the Religion of the Earth. We are all connected to the Earth, are a part of it, which means we all have power inside of us.”
“So you do believe that people can have powers?”
“The degree of power varies from person to person, depending on how attuned they are to the forces around and inside them. But we’re all a little psychic, a little telekinetic, a little telepathic, and...I’m freaking you out, aren’t I? I bet you’re thinking I’m just a nut after all.”
“Not at all. I’m actually very curious about Wicca...or the Earth Religion. Maybe we could discuss it sometime.”
“I’d like that,” Penelope said with a smile. She leaned over the counter and her expression became more serious and more focused. “I realize we’ve only known each other a short time, but sometimes I feel like you coming to do your work-study here was more than coincidence.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that I feel we could learn a lot from each other. Or maybe I feel that way just because you’re one of the few people on this campus who doesn’t treat me like a total freak.”
“Well, I guess us freaks have to stick together.”
Penelope reached out and stroked Karen’s cheek. “You’re not a freak. You’re a lovely young woman who’s about to blossom.”
“For the record, I don’t think you’re a freak either. You’re a good friend.”
“Thanks, I feel the same. Now get out of here, your shift is over.”
With a smile and a wave, Karen left the library and started across campus toward her dorm. The day was bright and mild, just a faint chill in the breeze that brushed her skin. Autumn in South Carolina was definitely more pleasant than autumn in West Virginia, and she suspected winter would be even more so. She’d heard that some winters it didn’t even snow here.<
br />
As she walked, passing guys playing Frisbee in the quad, girls lounging on blankets trying to be noticed by the guys, she idly stroked the bracelet Penelope had given her. The conversation she’d had with the librarian had been sweet but also...well, she found herself wondering if Penelope might be a lesbian. The woman wore no wedding ring and had never spoken of a boyfriend, not even of the “ex” variety.
Not that it mattered to Karen. She and her best friend Brittany had even made out once junior year of high school when they’d been blitzed on peach Schnapps Brittany’s older cousin had scored for them. Of course, Brittany denied any memory of the incident. And Karen didn’t consider herself gay or even bi, but she thought people made too big a deal about sexuality anyway.
Gay or not, Penelope was a nice lady, and Karen had been telling the truth when she said she considered the woman a good friend. Karen definitely wanted to talk more with the librarian about the Earth Religion, as she called it.
Rummaging through the large bag covered with stickers and buttons she carried in lieu of a purse, Karen found her keycard and let herself into the dorm building. On her way to the room she shared with Brittany on the third floor, she passed several girls on their way down. None of them spoke to her, but Karen didn’t mind. She hadn’t come to college to be popular; she’d come to get an education. It didn’t bother her that her only friend on campus was the school librarian...well, and Brittany.
As Karen made her way down the third-floor hall, her pace slowed. The blaring music she heard could have been coming from any room...but she knew it was coming from hers. A whole diverse spectrum of music out there waiting to be listened to, and Brittany chose to listen to nothing but Taylor Swift. Literally, on a nonstop loop. Though it wasn’t her type of music, Karen hadn’t really minded the young country singer at first. At least, not until she’d been subjected to it pretty much 24/7.
DoubleDown V Page 8