Multiples of Six

by Andy Rane

  “That would be great,” Kevin said.

  “Bathroom is at the top of the stairs, first door on your right,” James said.

  Kevin stood, rubbing what little belly he had, and made a satisfied groan.

  “Nicole, that was a fantastic breakfast. My compliments to the chef.”

  “If you want, leave your clothes outside the door. I’ll take care of them,” James said.

  Kevin frowned then sniffed under each arm methodically. He winced.

  “Good God, why didn’t you tell me I smelled like a week old pair of underwear?”

  “There was no gentle way to let you down,” Nicole said.

  “Ouch,” James said.

  “On that note…” Kevin said, and he turned and walked out of the kitchen.

  James stood and he and Nicole watched as Kevin made his way down the hall and listened as made his way up the stairs. She wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close to her, pressing her head against his chest. When the water began to run for the shower, they both started to speak.

  “You first,” James said.

  “I can’t believe how much he looks like you, even with the weight difference. This could be a great opportunity for him. You could really help him out.” She patted his chest.

  “I could help him? What are you really saying?” he said.

  “I just think the timing couldn’t have been better. You’ve been miserable since your mom died.”

  “Well, that’s not really fair, Nic. How was I supposed to be?”

  “I don’t mean it that way, James, it’s just that…you’ve been more miserable since she died. It’s been a really long two years. I’m sorry, but I thought that maybe…her death would bring you some sort of release…something that might snap you out of this funk you’ve been living in. I know it’s only been a few weeks, but it’s been really hard,” she said.

  “Well, I’m sorry you’ve had it so tough,” James snapped, pulling away from her to sit down at the table.

  “James, don’t be like that,” she said, pulling out the chair next to him and sitting down. “You know I love you. I just think this…I think Kevin could help bring you out of this. Distract you for a while.”

  “What if he doesn’t want my help?”

  “He does. He needs it just as badly as you do, but you’re certainly of the same stuff. Neither one of you wants to admit just how important this all is. I can see that. By the sounds of it, he’s had no true family presence in his life for some time. Now he meets you, the one thing he’s probably craved for years, but learned to live without. God forbid either of you admit how happy you are to see one another. Silly boys and your pride.”

  “Don’t analyze me, Nic. I know that’s your thing, but please don’t,” he said without looking at her.

  “I’m just saying, don’t let this opportunity go. I think it’ll be really good for you.”

  “And, if it isn’t?” he said.

  “What doesn’t kill us only makes us stronger?” she said, a half smile on her lips.

  “Ugh, my life’s become cliché worthy. How depressing.”

  She slapped him on the shoulder and then wrapped her arms around his shoulders, kissing him on the neck and ear.

  “I love you, ya big jerk,” she said.

  “Where are you going?” he said.

  “I gotta change this shirt. Slopped oil all down the side.”

  “But,” James began.

  They heard the water stop upstairs, followed by Kevin’s voice. James moved to the bottom of the stairs.

  “Everything ok?” James called.

  “Umm…so, I don’t want to impose, but you wouldn’t mind if I borrowed your razor, would you?” Kevin asked, opening the door just wide enough to stick his head out.

  “Oh…no, I…uh…sure.”

  “Are you sure? I mean, I know how some people can be weird about stuff like that, and I don’t want to go grossing you out or anything, but I figure while I’m at it, I may as well go the distance, y’know?”

  “Go ahead. If you want, there’s new toothbrushes in the towel closet. You’re welcome to take one,” James said.

  “Oh, cool…yeah…alright. Cool…thanks…” He ducked his head back into the bathroom. James was left standing at the bottom of the stairs looking up. It was all too strange, he thought. He could almost hear a resemblance in voice. He’d have to let Uncle Ted know. Family was family in Ted’s book, even if it wasn’t blood.

  He looked at some of the pictures that lined the stairway leading upstairs. Most of the pictures were of him but one of his favorites was of his mother, alone on a park bench with an apple in one hand and a book in the other. The apple had a bite out of it, and his mother had a look on her face that said, “You’re taking a picture of me with my mouth full?” She was young and very pretty. She had told him that the picture was taken about five years before he was born. It was in the same park that his father had proposed to her. They had returned there for their anniversary and picnicked in the park one afternoon. But, it had rained the night before and they were forced to have their picnic on a park bench, much to the delight of the pigeons. His father had called it one of his favorite pictures of James’ mother, but it wasn’t until after his death that he heard why. His mother explained that it was later that same week that they received word she would never be able to have a child of her own. They were both devastated by the news and Margaret had even contemplated divorcing William so he could find someone who would bear his children. He would hear nothing of it.

  When Nicole tapped him on the arm, James nearly jumped.

  “Are you with us?” she asked.

  “For now,” James said and smiled at her.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she said.

  “Aw, nothing,” James said. “I was just staring off at this picture of my mom.”

  “She had a great smile, James. She was always making me laugh.”

  “Yeah, she was good for that. She would have been mad at me for acting the way I have, Nic, but I just can’t help it. I think about how much she went through and how I couldn’t do anything to stop it and it just breaks me up inside. I’m just afraid I’ll never be the same.”

  “It’s been two weeks. You have to give it time. It’ll pass,” she said.

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. I feel like if I don’t always feel this way, I’ll somehow be disowning her, disregarding her memory. I didn’t give up on her when she was alive. I guess I’m afraid of giving up on her now that she’s dead.”

  “But, you just said it yourself, James. She wouldn’t want you to mope around for the rest of your life. And, you’re not giving up on her. She’s moved on…it’s time for you to do the same.”

  “I know, I just…I don’t know.”

  “I tell you what, why don’t we celebrate a little tonight.”

  “Celebrate?”

  “Yeah! Hello? You just met your brother for the first time. Don’t you think that’s worth celebrating?”

  James looked up the stairway. Yeah, I guess it is.”

  “I’ll run out and get some steaks, a bottle of wine, a couple of beers, and we’ll do it up right tonight.”

  “Sure, Nic. Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

  “No, you take care of your brother. Talk with him. I’m sure you’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

  “Yeah, I guess you might be right.”

  “I’ll be back before you know it,” she said.

  “Alright, I’d better take him a towel before he starts running around naked,” James said.

  “Yeah, and I don’t need to see exactly how identical you are,” Nicole said.

  Chapter 7

  The drive from Florida to New Jersey, the Opa-locka area to be precise, can range anywhere from 20 to 24 hours depending on your penchant for highway driving and the weight of your foot. Some people like to avoid the straightforward approach of Interstate 95 for the wistfulness of Route 1 up the coast
, but Dr. Robert Paynter wasn’t in a wistful mood. He pushed the 2004 Chrysler 300M’s relatively weak six-cylinder engine to the limit. He had driven through the night before, only taking a couple of one hour naps, in hopes of reaching the Garden State late that evening. He hoped to find them there, still safe, but time was not on his side.

  There had been the possibility of flying. He hadn’t dismissed the thought. It would have been quicker. But, if they were watching closely, and he had to believe they were, it was not a mistake he could afford. All the years of living successfully under a fake name were coming to a close. Larry Reed had lived the quiet life, but now it was time for him to go. So, Dr. Robert Paynter walked into his home, packed his things, and booked a ticket for Larry Reed to Seattle, Washington, round trip, to return on Wednesday of the following week. The flight would cost him a fortune with so late a booking, but it had to be done. That afternoon he wrote a note to his neighbor, left his key in an envelope on her doorstep. He hesitated a moment at her door. His only real regret was leaving behind his cat, Queenie. He’d miss that damn cat. Paynter got in his car and left for the airport. But, instead of driving south into Miami, where the plane would depart in approximately two and a half hours, he drove north to route 75 and eventually out of the state near Jacksonville some five and a half hours later. He knew that the lack of a passenger who had booked a flight that afternoon would cause some alarm, but that was ok. As far as he was concerned, Larry Reed had met a tragic end in a marsh somewhere back in Florida, never to be seen again. And, the resurrected Dr. Robert Paynter had never booked a flight to Seattle in his life.

  The roads had been quite clear up the southern half of the east coast. Late at night, it was limited to tractor-trailers and a few desperate individuals on their way from one state to another. In his rush north, he had yet to consider just what he was going to do when he got there. There would be a lot of explaining to do. He had set Kevin loose, not quite knowing what might happen. The thought of bringing together two unknown entities was daunting. He glanced down at the small battered black case on the floor of the passenger side. There were ways of dealing with problems. He just hoped it didn’t come to that, one way or the other.

  The news of Fred Taylor’s being alive had sunk in that morning. Paynter hadn’t seen him in over 24 years, but that was how they had planned it. Now, that old sense of over-paranoia was in his chest. Were they simply being flushed from the cover they had so carefully built over the years? Paynter stopped moving after seven years. He made the decision that if they really wanted to find him and kill him, he would at least be relaxing in a comfortable home with a drink in one hand and a good book in the other. But, by the time he had stopped running, he was already an old man. They had scared his youth from him and it was only the approach of old age that had stopped the running. He stretched deeply and glanced at the eyes in the rear-view mirror. The smile lines around them were only slightly deeper than the worry lines across his forehead. Where had the time gone? Was he really sixty-three? Only on the outside, he thought.

  He tried to imagine what Fred Taylor looked like now. The diminutive man had lost his hair young, which had aged him even twenty plus years ago. It wasn’t hard to picture him a little grayer, a little stooped, and a little gaunter. The years of running must have worn him down to nothing, thought Paynter. They had been good coworkers, but Taylor had always been a private man. His wife, a rather attractive, if not painfully shy, petite brunette woman, had died rather suddenly before the age of 35. Breast cancer. Though never one to socialize frequently, Paynter noticed his friend sink into a downward spiral of reclusiveness. He delved into his research like it was going to keep him alive. If he had known the consequences, he might have walked away. But, instead, he catalyzed the research with his obsession and desire for perfection. Paynter and the others knew damn well that they would have never succeeded without Taylor’s diligence. Of course, then it got most of them killed.

  A car came up on his left, distracting him from his reverie. The mile marker showed that he had another 5 miles until the Virginia border. The clock said 5:45 pm. At this pace, he would reach his destination at approximately 1:00 am, without traffic. He watched as the lines of the road went in and out of focus. Daylight was fading and he was on his 10th straight hour of driving, minus two stops for gas. Perhaps, he thought, if he tied the steering wheel straight, he could just take a little nap. He rolled the window down and waited till he was shivering before rolling it back up. He cranked the clearest radio station he could find. The weather forecast was looking grim. The last thing he needed was to get stuck in a Nor’easter. He pressed down on the pedal till he was doing a steady 80 mph and hit the cruise control.

  Chapter 8

  They ate, drank and told stories well into the night. James and Kevin had a lot more in common than they would have initially believed. Both had sold sneakers as a part-time job in high school. Both had played the clarinet. Both had sung in the school choir. Nicole was amazed that the two, having lived so close, had not somehow bumped into one another. Kevin called it fate, but James responded that it was just “dumb ass luck.” When the bottles of wine were empty, they decided to retire for the evening. James had already decided to call out sick the next day. They wouldn’t miss him for a day. Not really.

  James was not aware of the time of night when Nicole was suddenly on top of him, shaking him abruptly awake, her hand pressed over his mouth. At first, he thought she was being playful. Part of this was due to that fact that the alcohol he had consumed less than three hours earlier had not worn off and he was in the middle of a bizarre dream upon awaking. In fact, for a moment, he was certain that she was just another part of his dream.

  “What the hell?” James hissed through her fingers.

  Nicole shook her head, her eyes large in the darkness. She leaned close to his ear.

  “Shhhh…listen,” she hissed.

  Through the fogginess of sleep, what remained of the alcohol, and the sudden rush of adrenaline, James could barely hear a thing above the racing beat of his own heart. For a moment, there was only the pleasant immediacy of having Nicole pressed so close to him. But he could feel and smell her fear. She was shaking, and even in the blurry paleness of the night, he could see that she was a shade paler. He sat up a little, pushing against her weight, which was now acting to keep him in the bed. He frowned at her and shifted her gently to the side as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

  Straining now to hear anything, he thought he heard the squeak of shoes across the kitchen floor. Nicole must have heard something as well, because she tensed against him, pulling him closer.

  “It’s Kevin,” James said, his voice barely audible.

  “I checked…he’s still in the next room…sound asleep. I got up to pee and…I thought I heard something.”

  “Why didn’t you get me?”

  “I was frozen. I didn’t want to move. Shhh.”

  They listened again and by straining, James heard the slightest notion of movement from the kitchen. He made to move up in the bed, but Nicole pressed herself tighter to him.

  “There was someone rattling at the back door. I thought it was my imagination, but…” she said before James put a finger to his lips.

  In the recesses of his mind, between hearing what Nicole had said, in the silence of the house, James was certain that he had heard his name called. He shivered. Then he heard it again. It was clearer this time, and it was coming from the bottom of the stairs. There was someone in his house in the middle of the night on a cold December day, and they were calling him out by name. If there was ever a time to wake up from the dream, he wished it were now. All the little hairs on James body stood at attention. He shuddered again.

  “Oh my God,” whispered Nicole.

  James stood, not knowing what else to do. He stepped toward the open bedroom door and walked out into the hall to the top of the stairs. Nicole clutched the back of his shirt and crept behind him. He stared down at the fig
ure at the base of the stairs. It was a man, according to the dim light from the kitchen. A small man with little hair left on his head. His glasses reflected thickly back up at him. The man held a gun loosely at waist level in his left hand, the barrel aimed at the steps in front of him.

  “Hello, James,” said the man.

  James felt Nicole move behind him. He watched as the man’s eyes caught her movement. He seemed unconcerned with her.

  “Is the gun necessary?” James asked.

  “Troubles arise.”

  “So, you know my name, where I live, but obviously nothing about me,” James said.

  “I know enough. Besides, you’re forty years my junior. Kids tend to be a little quicker.”

  “But, a gun? Were you expecting some resistance?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Well, you are…” James stopped and turned at the tug on his arm. A bleary-eyed Kevin was leaning against the wall. He was shaking his head and whispering. James leaned in closer and watched his lips. It’s not Paynter.

  “I’ve already called the police,” James said, turning back suddenly.

  The man had watched James with great interest. He now had a bemused look on his face.

  “You shouldn’t lie, James. It isn’t becoming. There’s three cell phones in the kitchen and there is no line to the second floor…I checked,” the man said, giving his gun an absent wave.

  “What the hell do you want?” James said, his fists clenched, a feeling of weakness forming in his stomach.

  “First, I want the girl to come out where I can see her,” the man said, and his tone had changed from one of indifference to one of muted menace.

  James glanced over his shoulder, knowing that Nicole would have heard him. She crept out of the hall shadow and moved in behind James, peering over his shoulder. She suddenly became conscious of the fact that she was only wearing a t-shirt, panties, and some wooly socks. She tugged at the t-shirt, trying to make it cover more than it was ever meant to.

  “Where I can see you, Miss,” the man said, using the gun as a pointer, “That’s it.”