by Kym Brunner
The white-haired gent walks toward us with a sourpuss face. “Everything okay?”
“Yup! She done twisted her ankle,” I call out, with a friendly wave. “She’ll be fine.”
After he nods his approval, I turn to see Twinkle’s mouth opening and closing like a dying fish. She’s aching to talk I bet, to tell me she hates what I’m doing to her. My heart aches because it feels like I’m betraying Twinkle. Course, if she’s been fibbing, I need to know the truth. “So what else did Twinkle tell you?”
Bonnie prattles on, “She knows your weakness is me, Sugar, so stay strong so Jack don’t take over. If we’re there at the deadline, we can be the ones staying. The tour man told her so.”
Lights flash behind my eyes—bigger, more powerful. Every second hanging on to Bonnie takes every ounce of strength to not relax my mind. Batting away images of Bonnie and me together is near impossible, but I can’t let go of her, not yet, not until I know the whole truth of what’s to come. “What are you saying? How?”
“She’s going to do a ritual, hoping to get rid of us!” Twinkle pulls and twists to get out of my grasp. I close my eyes and think about my dog Jezebel again, trying to fight off Jack Daniel. Beams of light like a reporter’s flashbulb flutter through my mind. Go away! I roar, hoping to scare Chickenshit off, but the lights don’t stop. “What else—quick! I’m fading fast!”
“Some half-dead folks think there’s a way we can trade places with them—permanently! Please baby, figure that out so it can be you and me together again—just like the old times.” Twinkle really kicks in then, squirming and twisting more than a worm on a fishing hook, but after that shocking news, I need to know more.
“Trade places altogether? How? Did they say?”
“No, not even sure it’s true, but this tramp I’m in is worried about it, that much I know. But I ain’t saying any more until you swear it’s me you love. If you don’t stop—”
As Bonnie rambles on, I shake my head in awe. Twinkle is one smart schemer. I sure could use a gal by my side who’s not only clever, but can keep secrets—though I’m mad as a hornet that she was keeping ’em from me. Can’t exactly blame her though, since I tole her it’s every man and woman for himself.
“—you’ll be sorry.”
Course, as much as she’s complaining right now, there ain’t no moll more loyal than Bonnie. She’d sit in the car in the blazing heat, honking when she saw me running out of the bank so I’d know where she was. Anytime I asked, she’d rub my sore feet or fetch me a cool drink. How is a guy supposed to choose when one gal satisfies his heart and his mind, but the other worships you so much she’d do anything for you?
The decision is a tough one for sure, but the heart knows what it wants and there ain’t no use in trying to persuade it otherwise. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I’m taking you with me in the end,” I lie. Before I know what hit me, Twinkle leans against the truck and aims her two feet squarely in the center of my chest. She pushes me back with such force that I lose my balance, making me lose hold of her wrists. Hot damn, that girl is stronger than a Brahma bull. The sky explodes in a raging storm of light, and I feel like I’m being lifted up into a funnel cloud.
On my way down to the cement, I know for certain which dame I want to be with.
It’s a shame I’ll never get to tell her.
CHAPTER 23
Sunday, May 22nd // 10:12 P.M.
Monroe
Clyde lies on the ground near my feet, slow to sit up. Judging from the heavy thud I heard when his head hit the ground, I’m hoping he sustained a blow strong enough to keep him at bay while I decide what to do. He groans, gripping the back of his skull, his eyes closed. I scurry sideways to grab a hefty chunk of tree branch off the ground to use as a makeshift weapon, not wanting to turn my back on him. There’s a jagged end of the branch where it split from the tree, which I can use as a dagger if he tries to grab on to me again.
I glance around, wondering what to say if a bystander asks if I need help. Turns out I don’t have to worry about that. For now, we’re the only ones here. Maybe it’s better that way. I don’t need any witnesses if I end up having to defend myself. The thought of stabbing Clyde turns my already queasy stomach into an even bigger jumble.
You stupid, stupid tramp! Get back over there and help him up!
I’m not touching him again, you idiot!
My brain is still reeling from the revelation that Bonnie’s ability to control my limbs kicks in the longer Clyde touches me. I felt her gaining strength with each passing second—first my hands, then my arms, and near the end, my feet. If he held on any longer, would I have been able to stop her from heading into the back seat to heat things up even further?
Would you have wanted to stop? my foggy brain asks.
Shut up, I scream. What’s wrong with me? Not only is he a half-dead gangster, but he’s a skilled liar who probably doesn’t give a flip about me—only about staying alive.
That’s right. Now get your dirty thoughts off of my man, you scheming little whore.
Geez, Bonnie, chill out! I just said I don’t want to be with him, so relax!
I look toward the mini-market, relieved that the cashier has his nose in a book, too busy to notice what’s going on out here. What will I do if Clyde drags me into the truck, clamps onto me, and doesn’t let go? I won’t even be able to make a run for it in the end. And if the rumor is true they actually can trade places with us, where will I be? Lying in Bonnie’s grave somewhere? Or up in the waiting place, lingering about until the end of time?
Panic rises up my chest and lodges in my throat. I picture Bonnie and Clyde using our bodies and going back on the run. Black spots appear on the edges of my vision and a high-pitched whine, like the sound of cicadas in the summer, fills my ears. An overwhelming sensation of needing to vomit blindsides me, so I hold on to the truck’s mirror and lean forward. Having not eaten in over eight hours, all I manage is a few dry heaves. I stay like this for a few more seconds, waiting until the feeling passes. Slowly, I stand up. My head pounds in unison with the throbbing of my heart, as thunder rumbles overhead.
While confident I won’t faint from lack of circulation, I can’t guarantee I won’t blackout from pure disgust—of myself, of what I’ve brought on to me and Jack, and of having a dead woman inside me who wants my body for herself.
Too late now, chickadee.
Clyde finally opens his eyes and looks at me, moaning quietly. I feel equal parts victorious and horrified that I put him there. I take a deep breath, deciding to ask about his intentions straight out. “Who were you talking to when you said that you’d take them with you in the end, Clyde? Me or Bonnie?”
My pulse races while I wait for his answer, hoping he’s going to say my name. And even if he does, why would I believe him? I’m not one of those gullible girls who believes everything a guy whispers to her. I don’t even find badass guys attractive, so what’s wrong with me? It’s completely ridiculous and illogical. Still, I barely breathe, not wanting to miss his reply.
If he says Bonnie, I’m screwed. I’ll need to run for it and hope I’m still alive tomorrow.
If he says my name, I’m not sure what he expects from me, but at least I’ll have a chance.
Clyde removes his hand from the back of his head and looks at it, as if checking for blood, his face contorted in pain. Groaning, he pushes himself up, dusting off his palms. He watches me silently as I watch him—unsure if I should run away, cry, or scream for help. Clyde shuffles forward, glaring at me, as the first raindrops begin to fall.
“Don’t touch me,” I warn, holding up the stick, “or I’ll stab you in the throat.” My nerves are on such high alert now, I bet I could do it, too. A whimper of anguish escapes my mouth as hot tears lick my cheeks. What am I saying? No matter who’s in charge of the body, this is a living, breathing teenage boy in front of me who deserves none of this, and whom I need alive and well with me at the deadline so we can end this nightmare. But I don’t
throw my weapon away just yet.
I can wound him without killing him if I need to.
“You think I’m scared of you, Monroe?” Clyde asks between gritted teeth.
“Stay back!” I raise the pointy branch, realizing I’ve made a huge mistake. It’s obvious Clyde meant to take Bonnie with him, not me. My options are now extremely limited—fight to the finish or die trying.
Wait a second.
Did he just call me Monroe?
He throws his hands up, his face reddening by the second. “Why’d you do it? What if I wasn’t able to come back, huh? What then?” He grabs a shovel out of the back of the pickup truck. “Maybe I should just bash your head in right now, like you threatened to do to me. What do you think of that?”
My knees buckle. I back up, leaning against the truck for support. “Jack? Is that you?” The fluttering of a million moths in my gut brings the queasy feeling right back. Is this really Jack in front of me, or is this Clyde using his Northern accent to trick me? “How did you—”
“Come back? I’m not telling you.” He glares at me, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Because you’ll just use it to turn me back into Clyde, you fucking traitor.”
“No, don’t say that! I’m sorry, Jack. I didn’t know what else to do!” I lower the branch, but still I don’t throw it away. Judging by his anger, I’m not sure who the enemy is anymore. “If you had gone to the police, we’d be sitting in jail right now. Then Bonnie and Clyde would hang around for the rest of our lives while we sat there doing nothing to stop them. Surely you believe that now, don’t you?”
He starts pacing. “Only thing I see now is that you’re a selfish liar, only concerned about yourself. I told you I didn’t want to do it and now I’m in even worse trouble than before.”
His words are bullets to my heart. He’s obviously so pissed at me that he cannot see my side of things whatsoever. Even so, I’m convinced that we still need to be together in the end to make this work. And even though Clyde can be completely compelling and charismatic, he and Bonnie already had lives to live and they blew it. Jack and I didn’t. At least not yet.
“No, that’s not true, Jack!” I plead. “I want to save both of us. Please don’t be like this.”
“Like what—human?” He rakes his hair with his fingers. “Look at it from my point of view, will you? Here I was, driving a stolen bus—which I now realize makes no sense whatsoever—and when I’m trying to convince you that we made a mistake, you threaten me with a wrench.” He tosses the spade in the back of the truck, resulting in a loud clunk! “What the hell, Monroe? And then, not only that, but you did nothing to help me come back. You knew if he thought about Bonnie, it’d give me a chance to take back my life. But instead, you let him kiss you! How could you do that? He’s a fucking dead gangster!”
Was once dead, but not for long.
Jack stares at me, waiting for an answer. He’s deeply hurt, understandably so, but we’re wasting precious time. I need him to calm down and forgive me so we can make up for lost time. “I only did what I did because I was afraid we’d stay half-dead forever, like Mr. Johnson said. Or worst of all, have them trade places with us altogether. But seriously, Jack, I’m glad you’re back. Please just trust me on this, okay?” When I look into Jack’s dark brown eyes, I remember sitting with him on the couch at Kyle’s party, trying unsuccessfully to pick me up.
“How can I ever trust you again, Monroe? I couldn’t hear what you guys said to each other while I was locked up inside my own head, but you looked pretty happy the entire ride. Oh wait, except for when you were crying your eyes out, like you were pouring your guts out to him. What was that all about?”
I can’t deny that I was getting used to, okay maybe even enjoying, Clyde’s constant flirtatious remarks. I’m sure it was fueled in part by the emotional connection of two people running from the police together. But discovering that this infamous outlaw had a soft side would make any girl’s resolve to stay away from him falter, at least a little bit.
“It was all an act, Jack.” I’m desperate for him to let go of his questions and believe, once and for all, that we need to get to Gibsland together or we fail.
“So you were pretending to make out with him just now? You even grabbed him and pulled him close, like you were ready to get it on in the back seat!” He eyes me suspiciously.
“That was Bonnie taking over my body—I didn’t want to kiss him!” I’m glad Jack doesn’t know the pounding in my heart, the flood of emotions inside me while I kissed Clyde. The intensity I felt during those two heart-stopping kisses will have to remain my little secret.
You little trollop! Clyde was kissing me, not you!
Go away! I scream at Bonnie. Clyde’s gone now, so leave me alone.
I glance at the digital clock mounted above the gas station prices. “But it’s all over anyway. We need to get back on the road now, or we’ll never make it on time. It’s past ten.”
Jack shakes his head. “I’m not going with you, Monroe, and I don’t think you should go, either. Hear me out and then decide.” He looks down at his hands and then back at me. “After Asshole took over my body, I fermented for four solid hours. Gave me time to do some thinking of my own. And you know what? I’ve come to the conclusion that Bonnie and Clyde are mind-fucking us. They want us to go to Gibsland because that’s the only way they can take us over.”
I want to believe him, to give up and go home, but I now believe with every fiber of my being that doing so would be the end of me, of us. “No, Jack. That’s not true. Remember the warnings from the Half-Dead Society? We thought this through already and there’s no other way. It has to be tomorrow or never.” The high whiny buzz of panic starts to squeal in my ear as my plan unravels more quickly than I can repair it. “Think about all the clues Milo had—the G, the numbers, the deadline. It all adds up.”
“They mind-fucked Milo too! I mean, they’re ghosts, right? They can do anything they want.” He slides his hands in his pockets and leans against the truck, legs crossed at the ankles. If I needed convincing that this was truly Jack and not Clyde faking it, Jack’s no-urgency stance is a dead giveaway. “How about we go to the police and confess while they’re still in us? Maybe they can do a blood test or something to prove it.”
I throw my arms up in the air. “A blood test? That’s ridiculous!”
He stands up straight. “More ridiculous than stealing cars and driving fourteen hours on a whim?” Jack opens the truck door and puts a foot up on the ledge. “Look, I’m not going with you. Your calling me a pussy was a wake-up call to grow a set of balls. It’s time I used them.” He hops into the truck and slams the door. “Get in, Monroe. Let’s get this over with.”
The mosquito buzz in my ear has now become a 747 at takeoff. I leap onto the foot ledge, pleading with him face to face. “Please, Jack. I beg you. We’ll turn ourselves in tomorrow!”
He starts the truck. “No, now! This is what I think will save our lives. Get in or get off.”
Tears well up in my eyes, as the first raindrops begin falling. “You’re making a mistake.”
“No, you are. I’ll serve time, but then I’ll be free to live the rest of my life. Maybe you should do the same.” He leans down under the steering column and hotwires the ignition. “At least I learned one thing from Asshole. Last chance, Monroe.”
Get your butt in that truck right this minute! Don’t let him go. We need Clyde!
I step down and pat the truck. “Good luck, Jack. I hope at least one of us is right.”
“Yeah, me too, Monroe. Sucks it has to end like this.” He gives me one last wistful smile before driving off toward the road. Three seconds later, he turns and accelerates away from me.
As sure as I was ten seconds ago, I realize I don’t want to do this alone. I race to the street, hoping he was bluffing. Please come back, Jack. Change your mind, change your mind I chant until his taillights are two red dots in a tunnel of blackness. Knowing he’s gone suddenly make
s breathing an Olympic feat. I look up at the sky, knowing that unless I’m somehow magically transported to Gibsland in the next ten hours, Bonnie will forever share my body.
I sink to my knees, my tears blending with the raindrops.
Looks like you win after all, Bonnie.
CHAPTER 24
Sunday, May 22nd // 10:36 P.M.
Clyde
I watch as the weak-kneed bastard gets into the truck and drives away—leaving Twinkle behind. If only I’d made up my mind a minute sooner, I wouldn’t be in this mess! I try to holler directly into Jack Daniel’s brain that he’s a fool—to go back and get her no matter what the cost. But either he doesn’t hear me or he doesn’t care, because he pays me no mind. Just keeps on driving slow, both hands on the wheel like a muddled old woman, the automatic wipers going lickety-split across the front window even though it ain’t barely raining.
All I can think about is Twinkle’s face, her eyes filling with tears as she begged Jack to go with her. I should be mad at her since she’s the one who kicked me to the ground, but I know she got scairt, thinking she was turning into Bonnie right there and then. Can’t say I blame her. Being in someone else’s skin is the most infuriating thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s like being in prison without knowing your release date.
This whole thing has me plum on edge because I can’t calculate a clear way out.
He drives a few blocks before I know for sure that Jack ain’t changing his mind. What kind of man leaves his moll behind? A lousy piker is what. I start concentrating hard, like a fox with one foot caught in a steel trap, thinking on how to get out of this coward’s mind and into his body, but I ain’t having no luck.
I need something bad to happen right quick, something that’ll scare Jack Daniel right out of his body so I can take over again. Lord, I’d sure appreciate some help here. I have to get to Gibsland and I want Twinkle by my side. I want to let her know that what I said before was the real deal, not a con job. A speedy silver car cuts in front of us with no room to spare.