by Vox Day
“Welcome to the real world,” Holli made a face, and then she smiled curiously. “So, what’s up with Jason? Are you excited about that? Is there anything I should know about?”
“Um, no,” Jami said pointedly. “And I should be asking you that. You guys had the music up pretty loud in there last time Eric was over.”
Holli’s blue eyes grew distant and dreamy. She smiled happily.
“He’s so nice, and his lips are so soft…. I didn’t expect that from him, somehow. He’s so, like, big and tall, you know, around everybody. But inside, he’s really very sweet, and very gentle.”
Jami sat up and folded her arms disapprovingly. She’d been a little bit nervous about Holli’s relationship with Eric for some time now, and although she wasn’t feeling jealous anymore, she was concerned that her sister might be letting things go farther than they should.
“You’re not, I mean, you don’t… you haven’t….”
“No!” Holli protested, shocked by her insinuation. “I mean, that’s none of your business, but still… of course not!”
Jami raised her hands.
“Sorry,” she apologized. “But you don’t tell me about Eric all that much. Well, you talk about him, but not like you used to, when you were going out with other guys. It’s like, you’ve got this line or something, and you’re keeping stuff to yourself.”
“Is there?” Holli seemed genuinely surprised. “Really? I’m sorry, I had no idea I was doing that.”
“It’s okay,” Jami bit her lower lip thoughtfully. “I guess it’s just part of that growing-up stuff. But it feels funny, you know, when I don’t always know what’s going on with you, and I know you’re too busy to know what’s going on with me.”
Holli’s eyes misted over for a second, and she looked sad. Then she raised a finger and rushed out of the room, returning less than a minute later carrying an armload of small bottles. She dumped them haphazardly on the bed, then flopped down next to Jami with a cheerful smile on her face.
“Well, if we’re stuck with growing up now, that just means we have to do more grown-up things together!” She raised a small object in her left hand, and gestured towards Jami with her right. “Give me your foot,” she demanded.
“Why?” Jami asked suspiciously, as she extended one bare foot to her sister.
“We’re painting our toenails, it’s a very bonding activity,” Holli said. “And besides, they need to be done for tomorrow night.”
Jami watched, bemused, as her sister lifted a bottle and raised it towards the dress on the other end of the room, then shook her head and selected another polish. This one seemed to meet her favor.
“It is?”
“Oh, totally,” Holli said, seriously as far as Jami could tell. “That’s what we were doing on Tuesday, you know.”
“Eric painted your toenails?” Jami asked incredulously. It seemed a little far fetched to her, the star athlete dabbing away at her sister’s feet with Maybelline number thirty-six.
“Oh, no,” Holli said, grinning as she unscrewed the top off the second bottle and sniffed delicately at the opening. “I painted his. I told him it would be really sexy. I can’t believe he fell for that one again.”
Jami threw back her head and laughed, delighted at the picture in her mind of Mr. I’m-Going-To-North-Carolina-Soccer-Stud wearing toe separators.
“You didn’t!”
“Wanna bet?”
They laughed together, and Jami felt a happy sense of joy filling her with a familiar warmth that she’d been missing for weeks. Maybe they had to grow up sometime, and maybe things wouldn’t always be exactly the way they had been. But she was glad to know that the walls she’d imagined between her and Holli weren’t really there, they were only walls of air, as momentary and insubstantial as a bad dream.
She leaned forward suddenly and hugged her sister. It was so good to be a twin, and know that no matter what, someone was always there for you.
Chapter 29
Playground of Illusion
There is only death and danger
In the sockets of my eyes
A playground of illusion
No one plays they only die
—Megadeth, (“99 Ways To Die”)
Crrhk-crrck! The shotgun cracked with the sound of metal sliding on metal as Brien tugged on the lever that ejected the last shell from his weapon. The Winchester automatic held six shells at a time, and he’d practiced his reloading technique to the point that he could now slip six of the bulky yellow beasties from his ammo belt and slide them into the shotgun in less than ten seconds. The practice had cost him a few skinned fingers and pinched fingertips, but so what? A warrior of the Apocalypse was beyond pain.
He felt grimly satisfied, and imagined that this was what a Nordic warrior must have felt like going into his last battle. Die well, and take as many of the bastards with you as you can, that’s really what it’s all about. Murder, after all, was really just an extroverted form of suicide. He’d read that somewhere, and it didn’t sound so bad when you put it that way. He’d been an introvert for too long, way too fucking long; it was long past time for him to do the dealing for a change and share a little of the pain he’d been keeping locked inside.
“So you wanna do the tape?” Derek asked him, nodding towards his little Sony digital camera. He was wearing his rented tuxedo jacket over a KMFDM t-shirt which said, simply and appropriately, BLOOD. After some discussion, Brien had finally convinced Derek that if they were going to go out, then they should do it in serious style. Not only would the tuxedos make getting into the prom a lot easier, but aesthetically, the image was just very cool. James Bond with a twist. Trenchcoats were so 1999, what with both Columbine and American Psycho, so it was time for a new fashion statement.
Ladies and gentlemen, Brien imagined the faggy commentator commentating. This spring, the well-dressed executioner will be wearing Pierre Cardin. Accompanied by the latest model from Winchester, our models will be looking sharp as they blow your fucking heads off!
“Sure,” he answered Derek, glancing in the mirror and running his hands through his hair. “You might want to lose the jacket now, though. Strap on the bowtie and you’ll look like a damned Chippendale fag.”
“Y-M-C-A” Derek pranced about the room and they both laughed. “Maybe that’s how we should do it,” he suggested as he stripped off the jacket and placed it carefully over a chair back. “You be the cop, and I’ll be the construction worker.”
“Nah, I’d rather be the Indian. That monster headdress is the bomb. But we’d need, what, three more people? Or is it four? I can never remember.”
“Three, I think. But you know, I don’t think we’d be able to talk anyone into it. Not even Rob, the pussy! Shit, remember that freshman we played Vampyre with a few months ago? The one who got all flipped out over the pipe bomb? Wouldn’t he just freak if he had any idea what we were up to?”
Brien snorted.
“Yeah, him and like everybody else, I imagine.” He gestured to the camera. “All right, so turn that shit on already. I have some very important last words to record.”
Derek flipped off the lens cap with both hands.
“Like, FUCK OFF!”
“I was actually hoping for something a little more, I don’t know, articulate, I guess. But I suppose that would do for the abridged version.”
Brien propped the shotgun up against the bed and moved over to the camera. He unplugged one of the cables attaching it to Derek’s computer and held it up.
“Say, are you sure this is a good idea? If we upload this stuff too soon, somebody might see it and call the cops on us or something.”
Derek sighed.
“Dude, the revolution must be televised. You know what’ll happen if we don’t upload it. The cops will find it and sit on it for a year and by the time they get around to releasing it to the public, no one will give a shit. And they’ll edit it too, you know they will. This is the only way we can be sure that our messag
e gets out exactly the way we want it to.”
“All right,” Brien said, but he still didn’t like it.
“It’s just too bad we can’t do some kind of web cam action, you know, stream everything live to the Net while we’re shooting up the place. Man, that would set the world on fucking fire! We’d be bigger than OJ’s Bronco!”
Brien shrugged.
“We wouldn’t need that much stuff, just a laptop and a cellphone with an adapter, but hauling it around with us would be a major pain in the ass. Still, we might as well bring the camera along, it’s small enough and there’ll be plenty of memory once we dump this stuff into the PC. They’ll never put out any of the good stuff, but at least we can freak out a few cops, you know.”
“Hey, you know what?” Derek looked delighted. “If a bootleg gets out, we could even make the next Faces of Death video!”
“Oh, good.” Brien wrinkled his lip. “I don’t see how you can stand that junk. It’s sick!”
“It’s educational,” Derek insisted defensively. Brien was just handing him the video camera when there was a knock on the bedroom door.
“Guys?” It was Mrs. Wallace. “Are you hungry? I was just going to pick up some sandwiches from Panino’s. Can I get you anything?”
“Shit!”
Brien froze, but Derek stayed calm. He slid his shotgun under the bed, then grabbed the one Brien had been holding and slipped it behind his back just as his mother opened the door. There were five or six shells lying around loose on the floor, as well as a shell belt which was fully loaded, but there wasn’t anything either one of them could do about that now.
Brien’s heart was in his mouth as he studiously tried to avoid glancing at the flor, but he needed have worried, he realized a second later. Mrs. Wallace was as hot as ever, but she was in a hurry, and her pretty face was completely distracted.
“Hello, Brien,” she said kindly, smiling rather absently at him. “Derek, if you don’t mind, I’m just going to run out and get you boys some sandwiches. I’ve got book club tonight, and I’m running a bit late. I haven’t even looked at the book we’re supposed to be reading, can you believe that? Well, I suppose I can just skim the back cover.”
Derek quickly shook his head.
“No, no, we’re all right, Mom. Don’t worry about us, we’re fine. Panino’s sounds pretty good, though, so maybe we’ll just drive over there later.”
“Oh, that would be such a big help!” his mother enthused gratefully. She leaned forward and kissed Derek on the cheek. “You have a good evening, then. Nice to see you again, Brien.”
“You too, Mrs. Wallace,” Brien said politely, feeling as if his fake smile had frozen on his face.
She stepped backwards and closed the door, and Brien sighed. Even in her business clothes, Derek’s Mom was something else. Those white blouses she wore were like half-transparent, and she filled them out all right…. He shook his head. Stay on target, young Jedi.
“That was too close!” Derek said, shaking his head. “Damn, but I thought you were going to wet your pants!”
“For all I know, I did. You were pretty cool though.” Brian nudged a yellow shell with his foot. “I can’t believe she didn’t see these.
For just a second, Derek’s face was wistful, as he remembered bygone times. Then he laughed, bitterly, and reached out to pick up one of the loose shells.
“I don’t think she’s really noticed anything I do since I was ten years old.” He picked up two more shells and began to juggle them, and the bright twirling cylinders tumbled over one another in a hypnotizing pattern. “I have a feeling everybody will be paying attention tomorrow night, though.”
Chapter 30
An Evening of Destiny
No dialectical artifice can spirit away the fact that man is driven by the aim to achieve certain ends…. We cannot approach our subject if we disregard the meaning which acting man attaches to the situation, i.e. the given state of affairs and to his own behavior with regard to this situation.
—Ludwig von Mises, Human Action
Jami was almost wild with impatience, but she tried to keep smiling as Dad snapped what had to be the five millionth picture of the four of them. The boys, wearing identical black tuxedos, had shown up five minutes early in their rented limo, a big white Cadillac that had a CD player and a VCR in the back, but not, thank goodness, a PlayStation. Eric wore a vest and cummerbund that was the same vivid shade of red as Holli’s dress, while Jason wore an off-white tie and matching vest. They both looked great, but although Jami would never have said it out loud, she was secretly of the opinion that Jason looked much more sophisticated.
And he’s so cute! She snuggled a little closer into his side, and squeezed his arm. He had, as she’d gently suggested last week, slicked his dark hair back, and the tan he’d picked up during the recent sunny weather made his white teeth stand out so that he looked more like somebody going to the Oscars than a high school guy. She couldn’t wait to walk into the ballroom on his arm; even though she didn’t usually like it when people paid too much attention to her, tonight she sort of hoped they would.
Bzzzzt-click! She blinked as the flash went off again. Okay, that’s got to be it!
“Let’s get one now with Christopher and the girls,” Mom suggested, pushing her brother forward. He tried to resist, but Holli was already reaching out for him.
“Great idea, Mom! Jami, get on his other side.”
Grrrr.
Jami sighed, but she dutifully grabbed Christopher’s left arm and tried to dredge up yet another smile. Then she jumped and had to stifle a scream as he tickled her unexpectedly.
“Hey,” he said in a low voice. “You’re supposed to be having fun!”
“Maybe I would, if Mom and Dad would let us get out of here!”
“Take it easy,” he said behind lips that weren’t moving, but were locked into a cheesy smile. “A couple more minutes and you’re out of here.”
“That’s it!” Dad announced, and Jami wanted to cheer. She’d always hated having her picture taken, but it was even worse having to do it in front of Jason. Fortunately, Dad was finally through playing photographer, and Jason was walking towards her with a big grin on his face.
“Hey, get your arm off my date,” he told Christopher in a mock-threatening manner.
“All right, all right,” Christopher stepped away from her and raised his hands. “Just take good care of my baby sister.”
“I’m not your baby sister!” Jami protested, but everyone ignored her.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jason grinned at Christopher. “I’ve heard that from my parents, and your parents too, but I don’t think I have to take it from you, dude.”
“Well, I had to say it, you know. I’m the big brother after all.”
“I know.” The two boys shook hands firmly. “Don’t worry, she’s in good hands. I’ll even see what I can do to keep Romeo over there under control.”
Jason pointed at Eric, who was holding hands with Holli and laughing at something Mom was saying.
“You can’t stop him, you can only hope to contain him!”
“Sport-center!” Jami cried, and both the guys cracked up. “All right, Mr. Case, let’s get going or we’ll be late for dinner. So are you going out with Rachel tonight, Christopher?”
“No,” her brother answered as he walked her and Jason to the limo. “I’m getting together with Mike Maples and Pastor Glenn, I guess we’re going to do a Bible study or something.”
“Whoo, don’t live so fast, big C,” Eric said as he and Holli passed them, but he said it in a way that showed he didn’t mean anything by it. “Seriously, have a good one, my man.”
“You too,” her brother answered cheerfully. But when Jami started to follow Eric into the back of car, Christopher grabbed her hand and stopped her for a second.
“Keep your eyes open,” he whispered urgently. “Pastor Glenn didn’t say anything, but I think he’s worried about something.”
Jami
glanced at Jason, who was smiling unconcernedly as he held the door for her, waiting for her to get in. What was there to be worried about? It was the prom, for Pete’s sake, and she was going with a nice guy who didn’t even drink or expect her to put out for him. What was there to go wrong?”
“Sure,” she said to humor him. “I’ll do that.”
But by the time the door had closed, and the driver pulled out of their driveway, Jami had forgotten Christopher’s whispered warning. Holli was already snuggling up close to Eric when she looked down and saw Jason’s open hand stretched out before her. She looked up, and felt something melt inside her at the sight of Jason’s intense brown eyes. She took his hand, and felt a little chill of pleasure run down her spine. Tonight was going to be awesome, she thought with an excited shudder. There was nothing in the whole world that could possibly spoil it!
“Ready to rock?”
Brien nodded and checked his watch. It was half-past eight, and the first couples should have started showing up at the Hilton about twenty minutes ago. The prom officially started at eight, but they didn’t want to get there too soon, because some of the so-called cool guys who were at the top of their list were bound to be arriving fashionably late. They had another fifteen minutes before they had to get a move on. It was only a ten or fifteen minute drive to the hotel, and then the fireworks would start at nine sharp.
“How long you think it’ll take for the cops to get there?” he asked Derek. They’d gone over this again and again, but the truth was, there was just no way to tell. With any luck, the police would do something stupid like they did in Colorado, and stay outside waiting for a SWAT team. Under the cover of darkness, they might have hours before going down in their final blaze of glory.
“Can’t really say, but I’m thinking we’ll have at least twenty minutes. The first guys won’t go in right away, they’ll be busy helping people get away outside.”
Derek was calm, frighteningly calm, as he stood up and examined himself in the mirror. Then he reached into one of his dresser drawers and withdrew a razor blade. Not the safety kind you shaved with, but the sharp old kind you used for scraping paint off of glass.