Radium Halos

by W. J. May

  She nodded and from behind her shoulder, Dad winked at me.

  “G’night.” I turned and headed upstairs, not waiting for their wishes or kisses. I shuffled to my bedroom, barely able to keep my eyes open from the pounding in my head. I really had a new sympathy for migraine sufferers. If I could fall asleep before it hit full-on, I’d avoid the worst of it. I stumbled into bed, shoving the pillow over my ears to drown out my parents. They were so hot and cold, sometimes I felt like the adult.

  Noises all around screamed deep into my ear canals. There was no escape into darkness, just the shards and fracturing across the inside of my eyelids. Too exhausted to fight, I lay there tortured, unable to move.

  Chapter 4

  Ka-poosh!… Ka-poosh... Kapoosh!

  I groaned and threw the duvet over my face. When that didn’t deafen the jackhammer outside, I grabbed the pillow and stuffed it over my head. It’s freakin’ Sunday morning and Dad’s idiot neighbour has to rip the concrete out of his driveway NOW?

  Ka-poosh!

  Bolting upright, I chucked the pillow at the closet. The noise continued to echo in my ears and ricochet inside my head. I glanced at the nightstand, swearing I’d just heard the click of the numbers changing. Impossible. Seeing as it’s freakin’ digital.

  Six a.m., right on the button.

  Rubbing my eyes, I checked again. Yeah, I’d read it correctly. I banged my head against the pillow. Except it wasn’t there. It lay on the floor by my closet.

  Three hours of sleep. Seriously?

  I punched the mattress and pushed myself out of bed. I jerked back, startled when an echo from the bed’s springs squealed against my ear drums. Stomping to the window, I flipped open Dad’s expensive California shutters. The street below lay void of life. The neighbour didn’t have a hard hat crew jacking up the concrete; only his Lexus sat in the driveway. Dad lived in the rich side of town where all the professional doctors, lawyers and whoever were all still in bed this morning. Only a stupid fly with an annoying buzz banged into the glass a few times before finally taking off.

  Still, the Ka-poosh noise didn’t stop. I turned from the window and slumped against the wall. I shut my eyes tight as more sounds crashed against my eardrums -- my father snoring…a dog barking…the fridge running…a screen door slamming…

  My eyes shot open. Dad’s asleep so why would the back door be closing? My brows mashed together. Wait. He doesn’t have a screen door. It was one of those metal doors with the fancy rainbow glass. Maybe the neighbors?

  Heart pounding against my ribs, each rapid beat reverberated inside my skull, like church bells. My head hurt like hell. Last night’s thunderstorm fiasco came flooding back. The creepy mine, the weird blue skin, Mom and Dad’s fight, and the exhaustion.

  Too tired to notice pretty much anything. Maybe I’d caught a cold. Ear infection? I pressed my fingers against the bridge of my nose. No pressure or congestion. I feel good, like I’ve slept ten hours instead of three. I snorted but stopped instantly, the noise seemed to scream into my hearing canal. Well, my body feels rested. My head feels like a train wreck between the ears. I plugged my ears.

  Ka-poosh!

  I marched out of the room, determined to find whoever was responsible for the annoying sound. I trudged through Dad’s entire backsplit, nearly falling down when I got to the bottom of the basement stairs. The ka-poosh noise became clearer. I yanked the bathroom door open, not giving a crap who might be inside. About to yell, my voice froze in my throat.

  No drill or jackhammer here either, but the noise was deafening. Plugging my ears again, I walked to the shower. “Holy crap.” I jumped back, surprised that even my voice sounded way too loud to my poor ears. The stall stood vacant, but the faucet hadn’t been completely shut off. Water dripped from the showerhead, making the distinctive ka-poosh sound.

  How in the world did I hear that tiny drip from upstairs in my bed? How’d it wake me up? As I realized the sound, it blended in with the other noises of the house. Distinct, but everything else I heard seemed to be fighting for attention inside my head. I could even hear Dad snoring three floors up. I’m like a bloody animal. If someone blows one those dog whistles I’ll probably hear it and start howling.

  Cranking the faucet tight, my thoughts drifted back to the mine. I never planned on stepping foot inside there again… ever. Ear wax. I grabbed two Q-tips and tried clearing my ears out. It sounded like a river rushing though my head. The tips came away barely dirty. What the --?

  I pushed the rising panic aside and tossed the tips in the garbage can. I tugged at my ear lobes as I made my way up the stairs. I needed some Advil and breakfast. Hopefully, that would clear my headache and my hypersensitive ears.

  Once inside the slightly clinical-feeling, chrome-filled kitchen, I popped waffles into the toaster. After setting my plate as quietly as I could on the little breakfast bar in the middle of the room, I swung open the fridge to grab syrup. I squawked when a high pitched urrrr sound grated in the air. Grimacing, I whirled around to trail the sound. Toaster. There must’ve been some kind of short in it. I jerked the cord from the wall, my shoulders instantly relaxing. I hadn’t even noticed they’d tensed up.

  I stared at my white knuckles gripping the edge of the counter. Something’s so wrong. I could tune into every sound in the house…and I mean all of it, on every floor, and outside. Focus, Zoe. You can control this. You tune Mom and Dad out all the time.

  I shut my eyes, attempting to squash the building panic inside. Except closing my eyes only enhanced my hearing into super sonic radars. I couldn’t control it. My eye lids popped up at a sudden thought. No human can possibly hear with such clarity without help.

  My chest swelled and stiffened, ready to explode. The tightness crept up my throat. I flipped around, leaning against the counter and stared at everything. The dishwasher, the fridge, the clock on the stove, the lights above me, a pounding creak near the stairs. Each time my eyes settled on something, my hearing tuned into a new sound. All the normal things in my life are now enemies invading my head.

  “Crap, crap, crap,” I whispered, the heels of my hands covered my eyes and fingers nails scratched into my scalp. The scraping on my skin sounded like nails on a chalkboard. I shuddered. Even my barely audible cry sounded like wailing to me.

  “What’s going on, Zoe?”

  I nearly hit the ceiling from Dad’s groggy voice. He stood at the kitchen doorway in hospital scrubs and a creased white tee shirt. Get outta here. Fake a yawn, go back to bed. Avoid doctor dad. His creamed coffee colored hair had major bed head on the left side. He walked to the fridge and pulled out a container of OJ, drinking straight from the jug.

  As I stared at his large, bare feet, each gulp he swallowed bounced inside my ear canals. His heart beat between each swallow -- glug-thump-glug-thump. I swore if I concentrated hard enough, I’d hear the blood rushing through his veins.

  He put the juice back in the fridge, and shut the door with his heel as he turned to watch me. The concern on his face comforted me. I relaxed my shoulders, but felt like I couldn’t breathe.

  “You look like you’re in pain.” He placed a cool hand on my forehead, and then the back of my neck. “You’re a bit warm.”

  I stepped back, out of his reach. “I’m alright.” I took a slow, shallow breath in and out. “Just a bit of a headache.” I didn’t want him to worry…yet.

  Too late. He disappeared from the kitchen for a moment, and I heard him grab his medical bag from the chair near the front door. Crap! I don’t need this right now. I just want to be on my own… figure this out. He reappeared and dropped the bag on the counter.

  I flinched at the loud sound each clasp made when he clipped the bag open.

  “I want to do some blood work on you. Who knows what got into your system at that old mine.” He pulled out a needle and a couple of vials. “Sit.” He pointed to one of the chairs at the breakfast nook along the wall. “I’m heading into the office for an hour.”

 
; Not in the mood to argue, I dropped into a chair and grimaced as it creaked. Slow movements, quiet as possible. How could I have forgotten that already?

  I swear I heard my tendons snap as I straightened my arm. Dad tied a tourniquet around my bicep.

  “Make a fist.”

  “I know the drill, Dad. I’ve done this before.” Wow, we’re having a shouting match and he doesn’t even know it.

  “Just making sure.” He swiped the area with an alcohol swab.

  I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the needle go into my flesh. The sharp pinch was enough for me. A unique buzzing filled my ears, and when the needle pricked my skin and entered my vein I flinched. I picked up a weird sucking sound, like vacuum and then the sound of my blood whooshing into the vial. It took everything within me not to pull away or try to cover my ears with my free arm. Act normal. Three vials filled; each click and popping sound discrete to my oversensitive ears.

  I stared at the vials and caught my Dad’s heart rate switching to a faster pace. The blood inside had a purple tinge to it. Was that normal?

  “There, kiddo. All done.” Dad pressed a cotton ball and bandage on my arm. He stood and put the blood into a mini-centrifuge container he kept in the bag. “I’m going to jump in the shower, and then head out.”

  “Do you think…” I swallowed, afraid to finish my thought, “something…might be off?”

  He hugged me. “No. I just want to double check. I have no idea if there’s still radium in the mine. There might be uranium in there and if you kids inhaled any…” He sighed and pulled away. “Everything’s fine. I just prefer to err on the side of caution.”

  I nodded but said nothing. I’d heard the change in his heart rate again and knew he was either lying or scared. So was I.

  Dad squeezed my shoulder and headed back to his room. As I watched his retreating figure, I wondered why he’d never dated. He had a great job, he was handsome and fit. Woman threw themselves at him all the time when we went out or when I visited him at his office. Mom had done a number on him. She’d broken his heart beyond repair. Great. Now I’m all sentimental like I’m about to die.

  The pulsing water from Dad’s shower broke me out of my wondering thoughts. With my weird super-hearing, I listened to him step in and the water hit his body. Gross I didn’t need to listen to his morning routine.

  Running for the safety of my bedroom, I dove into bed, thrust my head under the pillow and pulled the covers over. Dad’s electric razor sounded like a lawnmower, even when I tried muffling the sound.

  A part of me tried to convince the rest of myself this could be something really cool. Maybe, but it’s a nightmare at the same time.

  What about the others? Had the same thing happened to them?

  I crawled out from under the sheets and grabbed my Blackberry. Rylee and Heidi were first on my BBM list.

  I sent them both a message: U ok? Let’s meet 2nite.

  Dropping back onto the bed I shut my eyes tight and counted the loud echo of my heartbeats. It was easy to pick out the dub-lub sound my heart made as blood poured through its chambers. I tried to block out the horrible thoughts.

  It was no use.

  My cell lit up and its buzzing sounded like a bee’s nest.

  Rylee replied: WTH? I got a massive migraine + can’t stop crying.

  Chapter 5

  Brent

  Somehow the sun figured out a way to sneak through my blinds and stab my pillow. At first it didn’t bother me. Half awake, the guitar dream felt too good to be true. Aw! Why couldn’t it be real? When my left hand started tingling, I rolled over. Sunshine clawed its way though my closed eyelids so I rolled over and moved my head into the shade. Ten minutes later the blinding light zapped me again.

  Irritated, I flipped onto my back and grabbed the remote on the nightstand. Now my right hand prickled. I must’ve slept on a nerve or something. I pressed the power button and the fifty inch flat screen hanging on my wall and it flickered to life. Much Music had some greaty-eighties videos playing and the satellite info on the top right corner showed just after eleven.

  Eyes still fuzzy from sleeping, I got up and staggered into my bathroom to take a leak. Returning to the bedroom, I caught sight of my open guitar case and ran my fingers over the wood of the Hagstrom. A weird flash fogged my vision – I stumbled and caught the back of the chair before I wiped out.

  “Weird.” Could I still be dreaming? Nah… I bent down checking my newest baby. If she’d gotten ruined last night outside the mine…didn’t even want to imagine. Nate bitched and complained the entire time in Europe about her bulkiness and me lugging her everywhere we went, but I didn’t give a toss. It probably cost me half my soul to buy, but the Hagstrom was worth every penny.

  The case had water damage on the base, but hey, that’s what they’re for. It’s not like I couldn’t get a new one. Finally arriving home in my room last night, I’d immediately opened it, paranoid it’d gotten wet. Then I’d dropped on my bed too exhausted to get up, check it or close the case.

  The guitar begged me to stroke her. I slid my thumb across the strings, enjoying the sensation it brought. I strummed a few chords and wrapped my fingers around her neck. No rush, I could play a bit before heading downstairs.

  The fingers on both hands vibrated against the Maplewood fretboard and the copper-cound steel strings. I pulled back. A tingling sensation zinged from the tips of my fingers up my length of my arm. Staring at my hand, I blinked. Brushing off the feeling, I leaned forward to play again.

  “What the--” Again freaky tremors bounced against my hand and my vision distorted. I tried to focus by squinting, but a shadowy silhouette appeared before me playing my guitar. The guy in the Liverpool shop I’d bought her from said she’d come out of a house on Abbey Road. I hadn’t believed him, but the blurry guy in my vision kind of looked like a young version of Sir McCartney. Okay, my totally overactive imagination is getting the best of me. I’m still dreaming.

  Or, Nate was playing tricks on me. Maybe he had some electric trickle wire leading to the guitar. I dropped to the floor in a push-up position, intending to check the wires.

  The moment my fingers touched the dark floor, I froze. The hardwood thrummed against my hands, and a clear image of what appeared, suspiciously, flashed in front of my eyes. My folks sat in the brightly sunlit dining room, directly below, having brunch. Dad reading the paper, and Mom checking messages on her iPad.

  I stood and staggered backward, rubbing my forehead. Wait a sec---Nate couldn’t have rigged my guitar. He left for UofT last week.

  I grabbed a tee shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans. I groaned. Ah, hell, Rosetta had ironed them – again. How many times did I have to ask her to take them just out of the dryer? I preferred my pants kinda crinkled. No kid my age ironed his pants. Complaining didn’t help. She’d just start ironing my boxer-briefs and leave smiley-face post it notes. I loved her anyway. She was our housemaid, but part mom at the same time.

  Giddy laughter floated up the stairs. Mom reacting to something Dad said. I followed their voices and the smell of freshly cinnamon buns and coffee into the dining area, then shook my head at the moment of déjà vu. Say what? How could I know? I gave my head a slight shake. Nah, it’s just their normal routine. I clenched and unclenched my hands, trying to stop the annoying prickly sensation.

  “You’re up.” Dad folded his paper and leaned back in his chair. He wore a suit – strange for a Saturday. “Surprising. You usually don’t show your face till at least noon.”

  “How’re you feeling?” Mom ran a finger back and forth along her pearl necklace.

  “Fine, I guess.” I shrugged, ignoring Dad’s comment. “My head’s killing me.”

  Mom rested a cool hand on the nape of my neck. “You’re a bit warm. Do you think I should phone Dr. Taylor and ask him do a house call?”

  Dad harrumphed.

  “I’m fine, Mom.” I leaned over and kissed her cheek smelling sweet perfume against her collar. “
I probably just need to eat.” I grabbed a croissant, loaded it with ham and cheese and took a huge bite. Tingling seemed to have finally stopped. I settled into the chair across from my father and nodded at him. Mom wore a fancy outfit. Both dressed up? Probably going to one of Dad’s functions.

  “I’ve got one of my surveyors coming tomorrow to look at the mine. He’ll run a few tests on the uranium. See if there’s any trace amounts and make sure the mine’s properly closed. That place is a sore spot in this town. I’d like to see it turned into a golf course.” He glanced at Mom. “I’m going to check with the city to see if that’s possible. It’d be the perfect location and I don’t own a course. I’d love to design one.” He pulled his iPad out and began making notes.

  Keeping my head down, I rolled my eyes. He wants a golf course? Now he thinks he’s a designer? No worry his son might be full of toxins or who-knows-the-hell-what?

  “Nate called this morning.” Mom slipped on her white suit jacket and straightened it. She wiped invisible dirt off the matching white skirt. She always wore white the last day before Labor Day. Said it had to do with some fashion-thing.

  “What’d he say?” Nate’d be psyched to hear about last night.

  “I told him you spent the night in the mine. He wants you to phone him with all the details.” Mom turned to Dad. “Time to go, honey. The invitation said three o’clock, and it’ll take us an hour to get there.”

  Dad sighed. He stood and tossed his napkin on the table. “I’d love to have one Sunday with no commitments. What happened to family days?” He pulled his phone out as he followed my mother towards the hallway. “Do you mind driving, dear? I’ll make a few phone calls regarding the possibility of the golf course. If I can’t do it at the mine, I want to find another location now I’ve got it in my head.”