Henry Franks

by Peter Adam Salomon

  “Alexandra.”

  And then she’s gone and my voice is my own again, but there’s no one left alive to hear me.

  twenty three

  The ringtone on Henry’s cell phone was drowned out by the wind but the vibrations against his fingers woke him from the dream, lingering images less important than the name echoing in his memory.

  “Hello?” he said, and then again, louder, “Hello.”

  “It’s me.” Justine’s voice was quiet as Henry checked the time on the phone.

  “I noticed. It’s past midnight.”

  “There’s someone in your backyard, eating the food,” she said.

  Henry scrambled out of bed, sliding on bare feet across the floor. He bent the miniblinds away from the window but couldn’t see anything. “What?”

  “Looks like a bag lady. She’s scratching at the side of your house like she’s trying to get in. Can’t you hear her?”

  “No,” he said. “Only the wind.”

  “It’s her,” Justine said. “There’s no wind. I can’t see all that well with the trees in the way and the lighting isn’t much help. She seems really hungry.”

  “Why is my dad feeding a bag lady?”

  “Go downstairs and ask her,” she said.

  “I’m not dressed and half asleep,” Henry said. “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “And there’s a bag lady eating dinner in your backyard. You don’t find that interesting?”

  “Interesting, yes,” he said. “Worth getting dressed and—”

  “She’s leaving!” Justine interrupted him. “Get dressed fast, we’ll follow her.”

  “No,” he said, but he was speaking to nothing, the call disconnected. With a sigh, Henry pulled on a pair of jeans, shoved his phone in a pocket, and put on his sneakers. He hugged the wall on the way down the stairs, avoiding the squeaky areas in the middle, looking toward his father’s room. The light was on, bleeding out from the bottom.

  Henry stepped outside. He closed the door softly behind him and was about to turn around when Justine spoke, sending his heart rate through the roof.

  “Took you long enough,” she said, the words whisper-quiet.

  “Did I mention it’s the middle of the night?”

  “Come on,” Justine grabbed his arm. “She went this way.”

  They walked between their houses, hand in hand. A faint path wound beneath the oak trees and they had to duck under the long tails of Spanish moss hanging from the branches. From somewhere in the marsh a frog croaked, the sound loud in the night. With each step they heard the squelch of their own feet breaking out of the muddy ground. The breeze was just enough to send the moss waving back and forth, distorting their vision and sending shadows to and fro as they squinted to see what might, or might not, be a footprint or two.

  Though sounds seemed to carry oddly, this close to the marsh, the distant hissing was a constant companion. The deeper they went into the dark, the louder it seemed to grow. Their hands grew damp in the humid air and Justine let go in order to wipe her palms on her pants.

  “This was a good idea, no?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice level.

  “I think,” Justine said, taking his hand again, “that I’ve had better ones.”

  “I didn’t take my pills tonight,” he said.

  “And?”

  “Alexandra.” Henry said the name out loud for the first time. “Her mother’s name was Alexandra.”

  “Does that help?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. This crazy person I know woke me up so that we could take a romantic moonlit stroll in the middle of the marsh.”

  “There’s no moon,” Justine said. “And it would be more romantic if it weren’t so creepy. All that’s missing are violins.”

  “You’re not helping,” Henry said. “And I have no idea where we are.”

  Justine stopped and turned around, pointing back the way they’d come. “I think we live that way. Maybe.”

  “Maybe?”

  “Only one way to find out.” Justine wiped her hands once again, then ducked underneath a low-hanging branch, Spanish moss grasping after her as she headed down what might once have been a path.

  “Wait up,” Henry said, rushing to catch up to her. He picked a piece of moss out of her hair and then took her hand.

  The smell of ozone was heavy in the air, the first hints of another storm coming to the island. The mud soaked through their shoes, weighing them down, and the moon cast pale intermittent shadows as it played hide and seek with the clouds. The hissing was everywhere as they stepped around a giant oak tree. Moonlight broke through the clouds, casting odd shadows everywhere.

  Henry pulled Justine to a stop before she could step out of the darkness and into the small clearing.

  In the pale light, the bodies might only have been sleeping, except for the insects and the blood surrounding them.

  Justine screamed and took a step back, the sound echoing through the marsh.

  Henry pulled her toward him and she shivered in his arms, her teeth chattering despite the heat.

  “I think they’re dead,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

  A cloud passed in front of the moon and the clearing fell into darkness.

  “Me too.” Henry took a deep breath, counted to ten, and exhaled. “Breathe,” he said.

  And she did.

  Together, they took a breath. And another, until she stopped shivering in his arms.

  “Better?” Henry backed away so he could see her face. Tears had left faint trails on her cheeks and she wiped them away as he looked.

  “A little, I think.”

  Behind them, a branch broke. Henry spun around, slipping in the mud, and fell down next to one of the bodies.

  “Justine,” he said, his voice rough and strained, “we need to get help.”

  She started to walk over to help him up but stopped after only a couple of steps, her fingers covering her mouth. Most of the color had drained from her skin, leaving her pale and maybe a little green around the edges.

  “Call 911,” Henry said, vainly trying to wipe the mud off his pants.

  “We don’t even know where we are.”

  “They’ll find us, just call.”

  After hanging up the phone, Justine cried softly and when he reached a hand out to her, she melted into him.

  “We should call your parents,” he said.

  She looked up at him and frowned as she took her phone back out. “Mom?” she said, turning away from him.

  Even from where he was standing, he could hear her mother’s voice as Justine talked with her. Henry took his own phone out and dialed his father, but there was no answer.

  “She’s going to wait for the police,” Justine said when she was done. Tears mixed with the mud on her face. “She’s not very happy with me at all.”

  Henry spread his arms and she stepped forward again. He hugged her, stroking her back, and was still holding her when they heard the sirens cutting through the night.

  “What are we going to tell them?” she asked.

  “You’ll think of something more believable than the truth.”

  “I’ve still no idea what the truth is,” she said.

  “Welcome to my life.”

  Flashlights crisscrossed the marsh, sending shadows around Henry and Justine. They called out to the police, to help them find the clearing. Uniformed officers surrounded them, barking questions over each other as someone else began to rope off the area around the bodies. Bright lights came on, running on generators they’d brought with them.

  Justine’s mother ran toward them, calling her name. She wrapped Justine in a hug.

  “Henry.” Mrs. Edwards looked at him. There was little welcome in her voice. “I knocked on your door until your father answered. He’s on his way.”

  “Thank you,” Henry said.

  “What were you doing out here?” she asked, turning to her daughter.

  “I’d like to
know the answer to that as well, if you don’t mind.” One of the people broke away from the two bodies on the ground. He was dressed in blue jeans and a FLETC T-shirt, a badge around his neck. “Major Dan Johnson, U.S. Army.” He stretched a hand out to them, his grip quick and firm. “And you are?”

  “Justine Edwards, my daughter,” Mrs. Edwards said. “I’m Louise Edwards. This is Henry Franks.”

  “And I’m his father, William,” Henry’s dad said as he entered the clearing. “What’s going on?”

  “Justine? Henry?” Major Johnson asked, looking back and forth between the two of them.

  Justine looked at Henry, then pushed herself away from where her mother still had her wrapped in a hug. “We got a little lost,” she said, the words hesitant and shaky.

  “What were you even doing out here?” her mother asked.

  Justine looked at Henry and then turned to face her mother as Major Johnson spoke again.

  “It’s a little late for a walk,” he said.

  “I thought I heard something,” she said. “In the backyard.”

  “So you called Henry and followed?” her mother asked. “In the middle of the night?

  “I didn’t feel safe walking in the marsh alone,” she said with a shrug. “I felt safer with him.” Justine looked up at her mother but seemed unable to meet her eyes.

  “I’m afraid we’re going to need the clothes you’re wearing, both of you,” Major Johnson said, pointing at Henry and Justine. “Routine, you understand, but just in case. When I have more questions, and I will, I know where to find you. In the meantime, the next time you hear a strange noise in the middle of the night, I’d suggest calling the police.”

  Officers escorted them home through the marsh, flashlights cutting the night into sections as they walked in silence, Henry and his dad a few feet behind Justine and her mom. As they came into sight of their houses, the hissing resumed, so loud it seemed to be throbbing beneath their feet.

  “Your father leaves in the morning for Savannah, Justine,” her mother said.

  “I know.”

  “No, you don’t know, young lady. He probably won’t be able to get back to sleep tonight. Because of the two of you.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Henry,” her mother called back to him. The four of them stopped between their houses. “I’m afraid Justine is going to need a rain check on that so-called date tomorrow night. Well, I guess that would be tonight now, no?”

  “Date?” Henry’s father asked.

  “I’d like to say it was a pleasure finally meeting you, Mr. Franks,” Louise said. “I’ve stopped by a couple of times but no one ever seems to be home.” She smiled but there was no warmth in it. “Maybe we’ll try this again later?”

  “I think that would be best, yes,” William said.

  “Let’s go, Justine,” her mother said as she started walking toward the house. “Time to give your clothes to the police.” She threw her hands in the air and shook her head. “Words I never thought I’d say. Good night.”

  “Good night,” Henry said, before following his father into his own house.

  Henry sat at his desk, his fingers running over the holes in the wall where the pushpins used to be. His monitor was dark and the only light was from the moon shining through the clouds. He spun around at the knock and the door opened.

  “It’s been a long night,” his father said, taking a step into the room.

  Henry shrugged and turned to look out the window, trying to think of what to say to the man standing in his room. What questions to ask. Instead, he closed his eyes without speaking. His breath caught and he fought even to remember how to count to ten. The numbers tripped over themselves, leading nowhere as one very simple question kept repeating inside his head: What’s your name?

  But he didn’t say a word.

  “Henry?” his father called to him, his voice soft and hesitant.

  He opened his eyes but didn’t turn around, watching the wind push the branches against the side of the house, reaching for him.

  “She seems nice,” his father said, but the words just hung there, ignored.

  Henry took a deep breath and counted to ten, the numbers falling in to place like long-lost friends.

  “What were you thinking?” his father asked. “It’s not safe out there, don’t you know that?”

  He pushed off against the window and let the chair spin around so he was facing his father. The sudden motion made his father take a step back, and they stared at each other in the moonlight. Henry’s nose was bleeding and blood dripped off his chin one drop at a time.

  “No place is safe,” he said, and only then wiped his face.

  The wind picked up, pushing the clouds back in front of the moon. What little light there had been disappeared. A branch crashed against the house. Henry turned on his monitor and a soft glow filled the room. When he looked up, his father was shaking, his fingers trembling. His eyes were wide open and far too red. Thin strands of dirty hair were pasted to his skin with sweat.

  The corners of his mouth twitched, as if he was trying to smile, and then he walked out of the room. His fingers shook on the doorknob as he left. Right before the door closed completely, he stuck his head back into the room.

  Henry looked at his father, trying to remember the man in front of him, but the memories were gone, as though they’d never existed.

  “I love you,” his father said, his voice breaking on the words before he let the door swing closed.

  Moonlight flooded the room as the clouds broke apart. Branches clawed the house. Henry sat there, counting until he couldn’t count any higher, his breathing ragged and harsh as blood dripped to the floor. He looked at the space where his father had been, studying the shadows, looking for answers but there were none to be found.

  “Who are you?” he whispered as the moon disappeared again, the words nothing more than a sigh.

  NOAA Alert: Hurricane Watch: Florida to South Carolina

  Miami, FL—August 28, 2009, 6:47 AM: FOR EMERGENCY RELEASE:

  The National Hurricane Center has issued a Hurricane Watch for the following counties along the Florida, Georgia, and South Carolina coastlines:

  St. Johns, Duval, and Nassau counties, Florida

  Camden, Glynn, McIntosh, Liberty, Bryan, and

  Chatham counties, Georgia

  Beaufort, Colleton, and Charleston counties, South Carolina

  Landfall is estimated late tonight on the east coast of the United States.

  Two More Victims Discovered on SSI

  Brunswick, GA—August 28, 2009: The discovery of two more victims in the marshes on Saint Simons Island late Thursday evening has increased the pressure on the Glynn County Task Force to solve the string of murders that has plagued the Golden Isles this summer.

  Florence Josephs, 54, of Sterling and her youngest son, Wayne, 23, were found by local residents Henry Franks and Justine Edwards.

  “Due to the continued danger that this situation presents to citizens and to visitors to Glynn County, I have asked Major Johnson of FLETC to seek additional help from both the Georgia Bureau of Investigation and the FBI,” said Mayor Monroe.

  In response, Major Johnson has requested further involvement, as well as an additional force of FLETC personnel to augment the local and park police already involved with the manhunt for the person police believe has been responsible for these murders.

  Initial reports indicated that Florence Josephs died of blunt force trauma and her son died from asphyxiation. The wounds, according to Sam Alli, the first officer on the scene, appear to be consistent with the other murders.

  “Again, we ask everyone in Glynn County to remain vigilant and cautious until this situation is resolved,” said District Attorney Staci Carr.

  In related news, police are seeking any leads regarding the graffiti spray-painted on the pier in Saint Simons Village. The vandalism, which read “If she doesn’t get us, Erika will,” has been cleaned up at County expense.
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  “At this time, it is vital that everyone remain calm and remember to stay safe,” Mayor Monroe said. “I have been in direct contact with the National Hurricane Center and as of now, landfall is still difficult to determine. Evacuation plans are being updated and school buses will be available for those needing emergency transportation. As always, we appreciate the support and understanding of the citizens of Glynn County and the visitors to the Golden Isles.”

  twenty four

  Low dark-gray clouds settled to the horizon and the wind came in fits and starts, tainted with salt and ozone, pushing warm moist air through the open school bus windows.

  “I can’t believe we’re getting a hurricane and it’s on a weekend,” Justine said. Her head rested back on the seat with her raincoat bunched up as a pillow. “We’re not going to miss any school for this.”

  “What if they evacuate?” Henry asked. “Maybe we’ll be out all next week?”

  “Wouldn’t an evacuation have started already? We didn’t even get out of school early. My mom wanted me to stay home today. That’s why I missed the bus this morning.”

  “She still mad?”

  “Mad? No.” Justine tried to smile but, for the first time Henry could remember, the attempt failed halfway through. “But she’s as close as I think she’s ever been. What about your dad?”

  “I think he knows why we were out in the marsh,” Henry said.

  “He said something?”

  He shrugged and dropped his hand onto her arm, sliding down her skin until their fingers merged. “He came up to talk but didn’t really say much. Then he left.”

  “He went out?”

  Henry nodded. “I don’t think he’s been home since.”

  “My dad never got back to sleep. He left really early to get to Savannah. Now, he was mad at me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to be the one who says that.” She smiled. It almost succeeded.

  “So tonight’s really not going to happen?” he asked.