by Kym Brunner
“Jack, wait!” He glances right at me, but keeps going. I do exactly like he did, standing first on the back of the couch, and then jumping up to get my stomach to the window ledge. It takes a few tries, but after some major stomach bruising, I manage to get outside. Jack’s already halfway down the block. Nice guy, my ass. My dad says if you want to see someone’s true colors, wait for an emergency.
Looks like Jack’s true color is every-man-for-himself cowardly yellow.
I step on an old branch, which makes a loud crack. A cop on the front porch turns and flashes a light in my direction. I duck, but I’m too slow.
“You—get out from behind that bush!” he shouts as he hurries down the steps.
I get one look at his police badge and take off running.
CHAPTER 4
Friday, May 20th // 11:11 P.M.
Clyde
I lie there for a long time, wondering how to get out of this damn coffin, when I see a light—a tiny hole no bigger than a thumbtack—way off in the corner. Light means life so that’s got to be the key to my escape. I don’t know how come I’ve been hibernating deep in the earth instead of chumming with the devil, but obviously, the good Lord has His reasons. Maybe He felt bad I’d been taken too soon, or maybe He needs me to get rid of some evildoers on Earth for Him. It’d suit me right fine to be God’s personal hit man.
Snuffing out maggot prison guards would do everyone a favor.
For starters though, I have to get out of this solitary confinement if I am going to be of use to anyone. I concentrate on moving my muscles. First a finger, then a toe—hell, even my eyelids, but they is all as dead and useless as an old man’s willy. That last part’s just a guess though, as I never had no trouble in that department. Bonnie would attest to my skillful lovemaking, wild as a tiger with the stamina of an ox. I picture my wisp of a gal—pretty face, tiny hands, small bubs the size of muffins—and it makes my chest hurt.
It enters my head then that I have no idea how many years I’d been gone. Maybe it’s been so long that my flesh has started to rot away. I picture my once-virile body looking like a heap of brittle bones, with little worms eating at the last of my innards, and a rotten filthy stench filling the air. Bah! Can’t think about that. Gonna focus on getting myself to the guiding light instead. I think about Bonnie, wishing she could get another chance too. Maybe if I do what He asks, the Lord will grant me that wish.
That’s when I get the notion that maybe I’m going about this all wrong. Wishing for things never made them happen. The reason I was so good at robbing banks was because I’m a clever son of a bitch. Though I kilt many a man with a Browning Automatic Rifle, my best weapon has always been my brain. Mama always says that the Lord gives each of us a special talent and that it was a sin not to put that talent to good use.
So instead of trying to move my muscles, I stare at the pinhole of light and concentrate on squeezing myself into a tight ball, small enough to go through that hole. I hunker down and let all my thoughts go, all except for one—making my soul obey my command. Bit by bit, I feel a tugging sensation, so I ponder even harder. All at once, a gigantic pull at the center of my core, as powerful as a maelstrom in the ocean, beseeches me to come forward. As I get sucked into my new life, I scream, Hallelujah! with a joy as intense as a man’s first time lying with a woman.
I let myself get caught up in the whirlypool, ready to do the Lord’s bidding—whatever that may turn out to be.
Amen.
CHAPTER 5
Friday, May 20th // 11:13 P.M.
Monroe
I bolt down the block, adrenaline coursing through me like whitewater rapids.
Run, girl, run!
No time to think. I race down the street in the same direction as Jack, staying on the grass and away from the glow of the streetlights. I sail past brick bungalows interspersed with two-flats, not looking back. I leap over flowerbeds and weave around cars in driveways without a thought to my safety, as if a serial killer is on my tail instead of a policeman. It might as well be a serial killer because if I get caught, my future, as I planned it, is dead.
Near the end of the block, I see Jack dart into the gangway between two houses. I follow his path, plowing into him when I turn the corner.
“Hey!” he shouts, sounding more surprised than angry.
“Are they coming?” I ask breathlessly.
He moves aside and peers around the edge of the house, panting. “No, we’re good.”
“Thank God.” I let out a sigh.
“You came out the window too?” Jack steps back into the shadows alongside me, breathing even harder than I am. His face looks pale and sweaty, like he’s nervous. Probably about ditching me.
“Like you didn’t know.” I lean my head back against the wall. “Thanks for helping, by the way. I almost didn’t make it. Bruised the shit out of my stomach.” I touch the area and wince.
“Seriously. I didn’t know.” He stares at me with fake confusion. Little scratchy noises escape his mouth with each inhalation.
I glare back at him, not bothering to hide my anger. “Me yelling, ‘Jack, wait!’ didn’t clue you in? You looked right at me and then you ran.”
“No, I didn’t.” He digs something out of his pocket. “Hang on.” He lifts the purple plastic inhaler to his mouth and sucks deeply on it.
“You have asthma?” I ask suspiciously, as if he had kept some big secret from me.
He nods and holds his breath, I guess to make the medicine spread through his lungs. When he finally lets it out, he asks, “Why did you think I was grabbing my chest and gasping for air before?”
The thought that the slugs had infected Jack with some sort of dead Clyde Barrow virus disappears in an instant. I smile from relief. “Why didn’t you say that earlier?”
He shrugs. “There wasn’t exactly a chance. Things went south really fast.” He takes another check around the corner of the garage. “No one’s coming.” He resumes his place and looks at me. “So why are you happy I have asthma?”
I’m disgusted by my insensitivity. “No, it’s not that at all. I’m sorry you have asthma.” I take a deep breath, wondering how to put this. “It’s just that something freaky happened to me at the same time you had your attack. I felt a stabbing pain in my neck, and…” I pause, scrambling for any sane reason, “I thought maybe the beer had been poisoned, or maybe you accidentally like, jabbed something in my throat.”
I cringe, knowing that sounded dumb, but at least it’s better than admitting I thought I had infected our bodies with Bonnie and Clyde’s spirits. Especially since everything seems perfectly normal now that we’re outside under the stars. Well, if you don’t factor in that we’re hiding in someone’s gangway while all the kids at the party are being arrested.
He shakes his head, his eyebrows pinched together in anger. “So the first conclusion you came to was that I poisoned you and then stabbed you in the throat?”
I bite my lip to keep from smiling. “Okay, when you put it that way, it does sound horrible. But look at it from my perspective. A minute after drinking the beer you gave me, I nearly passed out and there was a searing pain in my throat.” I take a deep breath. “But I have this problem about blurting things out without thinking. In head, out mouth.”
He shrugs. “I guess I’ll never have to worry about where I stand with you.”
“Nope.” In a few minutes he’ll know exactly where he stands with me when I head home without giving him my number. His taking off when he knew I needed help killed the last dying ember of possibility.
He’s a fibbing coward anyway. Forget him.
I suck in a breath. Bonnie, if by some cosmic connection that’s actually you, can you please just chill out until I get away from the cops?
I look back toward Kyle’s house and start twisting my hair, my stomach in knots. “I feel bad leaving without Clarissa.”
“Better than staying and getting busted with her.” Jack swats at a moth that flutters in front
of his face. “Since I didn’t poison you, what do you really think happened to your neck?”
“Good question.” I expose my throat. “Do you see any kind of red mark over here somewhere? Like maybe a spider bite or something?”
“It’s too dark to tell. Move into the light a bit.”
I step forward into the porch light’s rays, pulling my hair to the side. He rests his hand on my shoulder to get a closer look, making me jump. He says, “I was going to tell you I saw two fang holes just to freak you out, but there really is something. The crazy thing is, it’s heart-shaped.” He sounds surprised.
“Oh yeah, that. It’s one of those port-wine birthmarks. Anything else?”
“No, but that’s so cool. And really pretty,” he adds, making me squirm.
I let go of my hair and step back, not wanting him to get any ideas. “Thanks, but I can’t take any credit for it. My mom used to say it was God’s doodle.” I think of her then, guilt flooding in, making my chest hurt. I’m so sorry about all this, Mom. Please don’t hate me.
A floodlight scoping out the house across the street catches my eye. The nose of a police cruiser pulls forward and the light shifts in our direction. “Hide!” I grab Jack’s arm and pull him down into the evergreens. A split-second later, the floodlight beams across the lawn and up the path, pausing on the bushes we’re hiding behind. I suck in my bottom lip and slowly slide the tips of my black suede shoes off the sidewalk. A sharp branch jabs into my upper arm, but I don’t move. Seconds later, the light moves across the front lawn and onto the next house. When the cruiser drives down the street, I let myself breathe again.
Jack is the first to speak. He whispers, “That was scary. Glad you saw that.”
“Me too.” I realize my hand is still clamped onto his arm. Letting go, I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants as the cop car turns the corner. “Let’s get out of here. If they catch us hiding, we’re screwed.” I scramble to my feet and brush mulch off of my butt. Blood’s coming out of the scratch on my arm, so I pluck a leaf off a nearby hosta plant and dab at it.
Jack licks his thumb and wipes a smudge of wet mud off his gym shoe. “They can’t prove we were at the party, so it’s not like they could walk up and breathalyze us.”
“Hopefully you’re right, but I don’t want to take any chances.” I unzip my purse. “I need to get home. I’m going to try Clarissa.” I pull out my phone and see that Clarissa already called and texted me. Six times. The last one was five minutes ago.
Where R U?!!! I got to go bail Hank out. Do you wanna come with or get a ride home with someone else?
I text her back that I escaped out the window, that I’ll find my own ride, and wish her luck. “Clarissa left to bail Hank out. I’m calling a cab.”
Jack says, “I’d give you a ride, but my Mustang’s in front of Kyle’s house. Don’t think I want to risk getting it just yet.”
“The gorgeous blue one?” I hate to admit it, but Jack instantly became more interesting.
He nods. “My parents bought it for me last year. I had golf practice every day after school and couldn’t take the bus.”
“Oh.” I’m back to not being impressed. A guy who has things handed to him isn’t nearly as alluring as one who worked his tail off to earn it. “Your car’s nice. I ran past it after I escaped from the basement.” I’m dying to add by myself, but I don’t. No sense in pulling the scab off that wound. “Thanks for the offer anyway.”
“Next time,” he says.
I don’t let him see me wince as I scroll through my contact list and call Yellow Cab. “I need a cab for Baker, account 3705.” While the operator’s looking up our account, I glance at Jack. “Oh, shoot. I need an address for the pick-up.”
Jack shrugs. “How about the McDonald’s at Foster and Kedzie?” He points to the yellow arches just barely visible over the roofs of the houses across the street. Nodding, I relay the information, listening to make sure she repeats it back correctly.
I toss my phone back into my purse. “It’s a forty minute wait, so uh, I guess this is goodbye.” I shrug, not sure whether to hug him or shake his hand. What’s the appropriate gesture to give someone I was just hiding in the bushes with a minute ago?
“Nah, I’ll come with you,” he says cheerfully. “Where else am I going to go?”
“Okay, cool,” I say, suddenly glad for Jack’s company. Ironically, scrambling through a window and running from the cops together gives us something in common. The phrase “partners in crime” comes to mind as we hurry onto the sidewalk, although he wasn’t exactly what I’d call a willing participant in our getaway duet.
As we start our walk toward McDonald’s, we both crane our necks toward Kyle’s house, which is now bustling with activity. Three squad cars are in front and two cops stand guard on the porch. A man about my dad’s age strides past us, an angry look on his face. The police are probably having the parents pick their kids up here instead of transporting them all to the station. Jack and I look at each other and wordlessly pick up our pace.
My heels click and clatter against the sidewalk. “I bet the cop that was out scoping the neighborhood was the same one who saw me climb out the window. I can’t believe he’d search for me when they have a buttload of teenagers to bust inside.”
“Unless he thinks you’ve got something big to hide.” Jack elbows me gently. “You’re not an escaped convict with a rap sheet a mile long, are you, Monroe?”
He’s not too far off, but I’m not about to tell him that. “I’m wanted for bank robbery in ten states, but other than that, no.”
I think for me and Clyde it was only six.
I clench my fists, willing Bonnie to go away. What the hell have I done?
Jack lets out a quiet laugh. “It’s so weird you should say that. When I was having my asthma attack, I pictured myself robbing a store. I had a gun and everything.”
My heart skips a beat. He did not just say that. I strain to sound normal. “Really?”
“Yeah. There was another guy with me and we were both wearing suits and ties. I stuck this huge—” he says, stopping mid-sentence. There’s a short break in conversation as we pass a young couple out walking their two dogs. “This huge gun in this scrawny guy’s face behind the counter and told him to give me all his money. He opened the cash register and—huh, this is odd.” Jack stops talking a second.
“What is?” I ask, not sure I want to know.
He rubs his neck as we turn onto Foster Avenue. Cars of every size and color zoom by, all in a hurry to go somewhere. “It was one of those old-time cash registers. I remember seeing the words ‘no sale’ pop up in the window on a little white card. Me and the other guy—I called him Ralph—rammed wads of bills into our coat pockets and ran out. Craziest daydream ever.”
Panic races through my veins, but I fight to stay calm. Ralph is definitely an old-fashioned name, but that doesn’t prove anything. “It’s probably because you held those slugs in your hand. Whose mind wouldn’t wander if they were holding a piece of history, right?”
He eyes me sideways, grinning. “There was one more thing that happened, but you have to promise not to laugh.”
I bite my lip, not sure I want to know. “Okay, I promise.”
He pulls open the handle to the McDonald’s. “The guy who was with me called me Clyde. Isn’t that weird?” He snickers long and hard, like it’s the most hilarious thing he ever said.
I, on the other hand, have no trouble keeping my promise.
CHAPTER 6
Friday, May 20th // 11:38 P.M.
Clyde
I now reside inside the body of a man I do not know in an era that’s as queer to me as women’s undergarments. I can see out of his eyes just fine, but I can’t hear, can’t speak, can’t move this new body I’m in no how. Hell, can’t even wet the weeds if I felt the need. But at least I saw I got a pecker to wet the weeds with, and for that, I’m mighty grateful.
The good Lord granted me the favor of being thrown i
nto the body of a wild buck with fire in his loins. I was always ready and eager to please the ladies, and did a fine job of it too, every chance I could. Before meeting Bonnie, that is. From then on, it was only me and her. But she didn’t need no wedding ring from me before letting herself enjoy the finer things in life. In public, she was as polite as a preacher’s wife, but in the back seat, or an occasional hotel room after we pulled a bank job, she was ready and willing. I miss that gal something fierce, along with all the earthly pleasures that came with being with her. Best of all, she was as loyal as they come, and that ain’t nothing to snort at.
I see the boy’s got himself a pretty gal, too—one with a diamond twinkling on the side of her lip. She’s got short black hair that all the high-styling girls are sporting these days, beautiful green eyes the color of freshly cut grass, along with breasts the size of September pumpkins—round and firm, but not too big to handle. Makes me dizzy just looking at ’em. Now if she had some smarts to go along with that fine body of hers, she’d make one slick moll.
She don’t seem to like the boy much though, if the lack of kissing means anything. Why if I had a girl that sweet by my side, I’d show her such a good time, she couldn’t help but cozy up to me. I’d work hard to get Twinkle to laugh and to let her know all the ways she’s a shining star, until finally she broke down and begged me to kiss her. I can imagine her soft lips on mine, or me kissing her neck, getting us both all fired up betwixt and between. Feeling guilty, I make myself stop these thoughts. I’m not the kind of gent that gets his willies from smelling all the daisies in the bunch. Just find one and stick with it. Bonnie’s always been my gal, tried and true. My chest hurts thinking about her, wishing she was here.
Course, if the Lord didn’t see fit to give Bonnie a second chance, it don’t seem right that I should have to do without. A man has needs that require fixing the same way a broken door needs a hinge. I definitely hanker for a taste of Twinkle’s nectar—soon as I can work all the necessary parts, that is. I got a feeling I ain’t gonna have to wait much longer neither, if what happened at the party is any indication. Lucky for me, I’m rarely wrong. While it’s true that I once been dead, I ain’t never been stupid.