And that was it, the single most important thing, really the only thing I cared about right now: I was back in my bed, which meant that that god-awful nightmare was finally over.
Slowly, I sat up. Murky gray light was starting to filter in through the window. Darth Vader stood defiantly at the foot of the bed, one hand reaching out towards me. Never had I been so glad to see a Sith Lord in my entire life, not even when he first appeared on screen at the end of Episode III and the entire movie theater went nuts.
“Honey, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Mom…” I said weakly. Inside my chest, I could feel my heart pounding like crazy. My breathing was coming in fast and shallow spurts, so I made a conscious effort to try and slow it down, forcing myself to make it a little deeper and more regular.
Now that she was sure I wasn’t in any danger, Mom sounded almost like she was going to burst into tears.
“What was it about, honey?” She took a tentative seat on the edge of my bed, taking my hand in both of hers and cupping it reassuringly. “It’s okay. Was it about…your father?”
“No, Mom. It was just a nightmare. I don’t have those dreams any more.”
When Dad had died, I’d had some pretty wicked nightmares for months afterward. Real dark and gloomy stuff, but also really weird and bizarre, sort of like the kind of thing you’d see in a Terry Gilliam movie. Even now, it’s not something I like to talk about. There’d been no way I could hide it from Mom (the screams in the night were a dead giveaway) and when she’d heard what was happening, she took me along to a see a counselor, or therapist, or whatever it is they officially call shrinks these days.
Quite how an overweight middle-aged bald dude was supposed to help a teenage boy relate to his Dad’s death in combat over in the sandbox, I’ll never know. The guy obviously meant well, and I don’t want to be too hard on him — but how the hell could he be expected to relate to what I was going through? It’s not like his Dad had gone out in a hail of bullets and an IED, is it?
Anyway, I had to go and see Mr. McNealy every week, and talk to him about my feelings, the nightmares, any other stuff that came up. There was no way I was going to tell him about any of the other stuff, the supernatural stuff…that would have been a one-way ticket to a straitjacket.
After six months of that, but not because of that, the nightmares had pretty much stopped (Mom backed me up there, she’d been listening for the screaming every night) and life was back to some kind of normal.
Mom wrapped me up in a giant hug. I was freaked out enough that I let her. We rocked back and forth for a few minutes, in the same way Mom had always done for me since I was a kid, and pretty soon I really did feel better. She finished up in the traditional way, by planting a kiss on top of my head and ruffling my hair. I scowled in the now-traditional response, and everything was good with the world once again.
“It’s still early, honey. Are you gonna go back to bed for a while?”
I scooped up my iPhone and hit up the clock. 6:30. “Nah, I’m good. Think I’ll watch a little TV.”
“Alright, honey. Try and keep the noise down, okay?” Mom yawned and went off to catch another couple of hours. It wasn’t like she hadn’t earned the right; Mom worked her ass off all week long.
I threw in the Empire Strikes Back Blu-Ray and flopped down on the couch, keeping the sound down to a dull roar out of consideration to Mom. Empire has always been my go-to movie whenever I really needed to escape from reality for two hours and seven minutes, but for whatever reason, it just wasn’t doing it for me right now. We hadn’t even made it to the chase in the asteroid field before my brain was flashing back to the dream again.
One minute I was watching the Millennium Falcon dodging and weaving past the pursuing TIE Fighters like I’d done a hundred times before; the next, I was strapped back down to that operating table, with the crazed surgeon leaning across my body and ‘hmm-ing’ for all he was worth. Then I’d snap back to the movie again, but in no time at all, I’d feel the cold, sharp teeth of the bone-saw beginning to cut into the flesh of my chest, grating against my ribs.
The pain was weird. Having a maniac slicing his way through your muscle and bones should be agonizing, and it was, in its own strange way; but it seemed like I was watching the surgery from far away, as if it was a movie where I could sort of feel the pain, but it wasn’t actually happening to me. Somebody else was getting carved up like a turkey, and I was somehow experiencing it second-hand.
Then the Falcon was flying off in search of Han, and the end credits rolled. Bright sunlight was streaming in through the windows. I looked over at the clock and saw that it was already coming up on nine. I sighed. My head just wasn’t in the game today. I’d need to get my act together fast. There was shopping to be done, supplies to pick up. But first things first. A bowl of Cheerios and a glass of orange juice took care of the grouchiness that I could already feel coming on.
I shook my head like a dog drying itself after a bath, hopefully consigning thoughts of Long Brook Sanatorium to the back of my brain.
It wasn’t long before Mom surfaced again, looking considerably less worried and, after her usual two cups of morning coffee, much perkier than she had a few hours before.
“So what excitement does the day hold for you?” she asked. There was a mischievous, teasing twinkle in her eye.
I shrugged. “Not sure yet. Maybe I’ll hop the bus up to Longmont and hang out at Atomic Goblin.”
Atomic Goblin was my favorite gaming store, a haven where kids of all ages (some of them in their fifties and sixties) could get together and play Magic: The Gathering, Dungeons & Dragons, or my own personal favorite, X-Wing. It was pretty much my second home, a magical place where I could get my nerd on without fear of ridicule and spend time with some awesome, like-minded peeps.
“That sounds like a great idea, honey. I’m heading to the store around ten, do you need anything?” I shook my head. “Don’t forget that tonight is my karaoke night with the girls. I won’t be back until late.” She blushed a little. Mom actually had a really great singing voice, but it took one or two drinks to get her up on stage to show it off. She always seemed a little embarrassed at spending her Saturday nights in bars, but I couldn’t have been happier about it. Number one, it got her out of the house and into some kind of social life; and number two, it would make it a whole lot easier for me to hide the fact that I was slipping out tonight and spending the night with Becky. That thought made me blush. ‘Spending the night with Becky.’ It wasn’t like I was actually going to be spending the night with Becky, but it was pretty darn cool nonetheless. My palms started to sweat just thinking about it. I don’t know how Becky saw things, but I was definitely looking on this as my big chance to impress her as possible boyfriend material.
“I’m probably going to have an early night when I get back, Mom.” Lay the groundwork early. If everything went well, Mom would get a cab home late tonight and go straight to bed, safe in the assumption that I was all tucked up in my own bed.
“Probably a good idea, honey. You had a really early start.”
“Yeah, and not in a good way.”
We smiled at each other, silently acknowledging that the night terrors were gone, chased away by the Saturday morning sunshine. My phone chirped. It was a text message from Becky. Going to the store to get supplies. Want to go with?
Did I ever.
Mom looked at me in an ‘is it her?’ sort of way. My smile must have morphed into a grin and given me away. “It’s Becky. She wants to hang out.”
“So much for Atomic Goblin.” Her voice was teasing, but I knew she was genuinely pleased for me. She and Becky had taken a real shine to one another last night.
Sure, I texted back. What time?
“I can play X-Wing next week,” I shrugged. “Maybe we’ll go see a movie today.”
“Just be sure to treat her well and have fun, honey. But not too much fun.”
“Copy, Mom.” I could feel
myself blushing a deep crimson now. This was not a subject matter I wanted to get into with my mom any time soon…or, come to think of it, ever. “I’m going to check Moviefone and see what’s playing.” I knew perfectly well what movies were playing (a new Marvel movie had just opened on Thursday) but this was starting to get a little awkward.
My phone pinged again. Pick you up in ten minutes.
I used the time wisely. First I went back into my bedroom and started pulling together some of the stuff that I thought might come in useful later tonight. My black backpack would hold most of it. I stuffed a charger for my phone and tablet, and a beat-up old digital camera that Mom had handed down to me a couple of years ago when she had bought a bigger and better model, into the pack; then I went for a notebook, pens, and Sharpies in case we needed to make sketch maps. Couldn’t forget a flashlight either (we only had one in the home) and although we didn’t have any spares in the battery drawer, I figured we’d be able to pick some up at the store on our way up to Long Brook.
I packed pretty light, but figured that Becky would probably have all the gadgets and gizmos that the guys on those TV shows used. I’d need some food and drinks, but we could get those this afternoon too. Caffeine would be the big priority if we were going to try and stay awake all night.
Next, I spent a few minutes carefully arranging my bed, stuffing some clothes underneath the comforter and plumping it up until it looked sort of like my sleeping body was under there — at least, if you didn’t look too closely. Then I closed the window and pulled the drapes across, and stepped back to admire my handiwork.
The room was gloomy even with what little sunlight was making it through the drapes, and the vaguely-human shape on the bed would probably fool anything but a real inspection. Satisfied, I slung my backpack over one shoulder, grabbed a hoodie from my closet on the way out, and headed back out into the living room. The ten minutes was almost up.
Mom was outside, working on her little flower garden. I closed the door behind me and said goodbye to her, then started walking towards the end of the street. I passed a couple of other trailers, and just as I reached the mailboxes a car pulled up next to me and Becky waved at me from the passenger seat. I frowned. It was a battered old Chevy Blazer. That wasn’t the car she’d arrived in last night.
Then I experienced what felt a lot like a punch in my guts, because there in the driver’s seat, looking back at me with an expressionless stare, was the ugly mug of Brandon freaking Monroe.
CHAPTER SIX
“What the hell is he doing here?”
I was standing by the passenger side of the car, stopped dead in my tracks by the sight of who was driving it.
She’d said she had ‘friends’ that would come up there with us, but this I could never have seen coming.
Becky spread her hands in an attempt to calm me down. “Danny, it’s okay. Brandon just wants to help out. Right, Brandon?” She looked over at the big steaming turd sitting in the driver’s seat. He had the decency to at least look a bit sorry. A tiny bit.
“Oh yeah?” I wasn’t buying it. “Is that was he was doing yesterday when he and his douchebag friends wanted to beat my ass? Helping? Because that’s not how it looked from where I was standing.”
“Hey, look, I’m sorry about that, bro.” Brandon sounded apologetic. “Really sorry. It was a mean thing to do, I know. I get it. Becky gave me a really hard time about it, she really did.”
“I totally did,” Becky agreed eagerly. “Brandon knows that he was way out of line, and he’s sorry. Really sorry.” There was a hint of pleading in her tone. “Right, Brandon?” she repeated.
Brandon put the car in park and got out, came around to stand next to me on the sidewalk. From reading his body language, the way his head hung low and he trudged like a man on his way to the electric chair, he was either genuinely sorry or a damned good actor.
“Look, dude…I really am sorry. Yesterday was mean and stupid, and I’ve got no excuse…but I have to know something, man.” His voice dropped to a whisper, probably so Becky couldn’t hear what he was about to say next. “I have to know…could you really see my grandma, on the street yesterday? I mean, really?”
Tears were beginning to well up in Brandon’s eyes. I sighed. It was hard to stay angry with a guy who was halfway to tears over his dead grandmother. “Yeah,” I replied quietly. “I wouldn’t make that up. It’d be cruel.”
“Becky says that you can see the spirits of the dead.”
“She’s telling you the truth.” We locked eyes. I was basically daring him to mock me this time. After a moment, he looked away.
“Can you see her now?”
I shook my head. “She’s not around you right now.”
“Did I make her mad yesterday?”
“She sounded disappointed, not mad.
I thought back to our encounter after school yesterday, remembering what his grandmother had said to me after he and his buddies had fled. Gingerly, I reached out and put a hand on his shoulder in what I hoped was more of a comforting than a creepy gesture. Either way, it felt pretty awkward. “Your grandmother was sorry that she slapped you, man. She…” I shut up fast when my brain caught up with my mouth. Probably not cool to tell him that I knew about his abusive dad. “She’s a little worried about some of the choices you’re making in life,” I said at last.
“Is that why she’s sticking around, why she hasn’t gone on to Heaven, or wherever it is the good people go?” Now he sounded worried, and I have to admit that I was warming up to him just a little. Anybody who was that concerned about his grandmother couldn’t be all bad. I shrugged.
“It’s possible. Based on what I know, most spirits get to come and go as they please for a while after their physical body dies. Some can stick around for a few weeks, others for years, even hundreds of years if they really want to. If she’s worried about you, I think maybe your grandmother just wants to keep a protective eye on you until you get things figured out.”
“If she comes back again, you’ll tell me, right Chill?” There was a pleading quality to his tone that cut me up a little inside. Brandon Monroe might have been a bully and have treated me like crap yesterday, but his humanity was starting to show through the douchey exterior. I was starting to wonder how much of it was just a front.
“Sure thing, Brandon.”
Becky got out of the car. Brandon cuffed at his eyes, not wanting her to see that he was starting to cry. “That, uh…that sounds good, Danny. Thanks.” He looked away, over towards where Mom was happily rooting around in her flower beds. I patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.
“You’re welcome, dude.”
“Did you guys work it out?” Becky asked hopefully. She was mainly looking at me.
“Yeah, I guess we did.”
“That’s awesome!” She folded both of us guys into a great big bear hug. “I just knew you’d get along once you cleared the air.”
Just then, she could have said she was Queen Elizabeth of England and I would have agreed. I was too busy enjoying the warmth of that hug. When we finally untangled ourselves, I couldn’t quite bring myself to look Brandon in the eye, but I was willing to bet that he was every bit as sweet on Becky as I was.
That was going to be a problem.
We wasted a few hours of the morning by driving around and chatting, before going to lunch. All three of us agreed on one of Becky’s favorite burger joints. I was pleasantly surprised to find that we were all getting on pretty well, laughing and joking with one another. Becky took a photo of me with mustard and ketchup slathered all over the corner of my mouth, which for some reason she found hysterically funny.
Our next stop was at Target, conveniently located on our route out of town, in order to pick up some supplies for what was sure to be a long night ahead. I made sure to grab a bunch of candy bars, and more importantly, a few sodas and energy drinks. That was going to be the only way I’d stay awake through the night, especially with as little sleep as I’d gotte
n last night.
Becky didn’t buy as much as Brandon and I did, and I’d noticed earlier when I had gotten into the car that her backpack was already bulging, as though it was already stuffed with goodies. When I asked her about it, she flashed me a shy little smile and gave a cryptic answer about having bought most of what she needed at Arcane Arts in Boulder.
“Arcane Arts? Never heard of the place.”
“It’s an occult and magic supplies store,” she explained, a little hesitantly I thought. “Pagans and Wiccans get a lot of the stuff there for our spells and rituals. I just picked up some special candles and things.”
“What for?”I asked, hoping once I’d asked it that the question didn’t sound too rude.
“Just in case things go bad up at Long Brook.” I must have looked puzzled, because she added, “You know, so I can cast some spells of protection for us.”
“Oh. Got it. Makes sense.”
The store was pretty busy, but we were back on the road in less than an hour. Brandon popped the rear hatch, Becky rode in the front passenger seat, which I was less than happy about, but at least it gave me the back seat all to myself. I sat with my back pressing up against the driver’s side rear door and my legs stretched out comfortably at angle across the seat.
More importantly, it put me right behind Brandon and let me talk face-to-face with Becky.
We headed west out of Boulder on Canyon Boulevard, though pretty much every Boulderite just calls it ‘Canyon.’ It’s not a street that took a lot of imagination to name, because ten minutes later we were out of the city limits and snaking our way up Boulder Canyon itself. Brandon actually managed to keep his speed somewhere just barely to the south of “insane,” so I was actually able to enjoy a little scenery on the way up there.
Boulder Falls passed by on our right. Five or six brightly-colored climbers were clinging to its sheer face; I could see their safety ropes stretching upwards, and caught a glimpse of a few hikers and late-afternoon strollers wandering around at the base of the waterfall.
Agonal Breath (The Deadseer Chronicles Book 1) Page 7