by Gregory Kay
“What do you think?” he asked without intonation, more by reflex than anything else, but she didn't take offense.
“I think you're not alright at all. I don't reckon I blame you either, because neither am I.”
He sighed; sometimes it was hard to remember he wasn't the only one affected.
“You're missing Joe Bob too, huh?”
She nodded, tight-lipped.
“Yeah, real bad. I...” She hesitated, swallowing hard, and when her voice resumed it was no more than a whisper. “I loved him, Jake.”
“I know.”
After staring at her plate for a long time, gathering her courage, she asked, “D-do you think maybe he...maybe he loved me too? Even just...a little bit?”
Jake seriously doubted that, about her or any other girl, at least on anything other than a purely sexual level, and he'd often wondered if Joe Bob had even been capable of it. Still, he had more than enough misery himself to go around, and suddenly he knew he couldn't stand one more ounce of it, even if there was a lunch table between it and him.
“He did.”
That was sweet of you, Jake, Susie's voice whispered from somewhere only he could hear, but he tried to ignore it.
Her eyes widened.
“Really? Wow! I mean...how do you know?”
“He told me,” Jake lied through his teeth, “He told me and Scott while we were hunting; he said you were special, and he thought maybe you were the one.”
Suddenly she reached across the table and grabbed his hand while the tears streamed down her face.
“I know you're lying to me, Jake Estep, 'cause you ain't very good at it...but thank you so much for doing it!”
Jake was saved from having to answer when he felt a hard, deliberate bump on his shoulder.
Bobby Tyndall was a bully, and had been ever since he could walk. Coming from a white trash clan of thieves, moonshiners, marijuana growers, meth cookers, and public assistance frauds, it was expected, but he had a natural streak of cruelty that went well beyond the norm even in his dysfunctional family, and his burly, six-foot, two-inch frame gave him all the advantage he needed to carry it out...against most people. Not against The Three Musketeers, though.
Oh, he had tried it – once, with each of them. He'd made the mistake of shoving Scott into a locker right after the almost equally-large boy had been arguing with Becky and was in a bad mood; Scott had responded by driving straight into him, sticking with him all the way across the hall and into the cinder block wall. Bobby's head had bounced off it, and he woke up on the floor with a big lump on the back of his skull wondering what the hell had happened.
Joe Bob was the next attempt; Bobby started an argument, got up in the wiry boy's face, and demanded, “What are you gonna do about it!” when Joe Bob told him to get the hell away. He still remembered that crazy laugh, both of Joe Bob's hands grabbing his shirt, and the rapid series of half-a-dozen head butts every time he looked in the mirror at his broken nose and the scar on his upper lip.
When it was Jake's turn, Bobby wasn't even after him at the time. Instead he had that scrawny Bates boy by the neck in the hall and was demanding his lunch money when the passing Jake Estep saw what was going on and, without any warning, grabbed Bobby by the shoulder, spun him around, and delivered a right hook to the jaw that knocked him cold before he even realized what was happening. That just wasn't fair!
The last straw was at last year's football game, when they'd played against Beckley. Bobby had cornered special-ed freshman Sally Herndon in a deserted hallway, and dragged her into the boy's room for a little fun. Unfortunately all three of the musketeers had seen it, and entered just as he was pulling the struggling, crying girl's panties down.
Bobby spent three days in the hospital over that, had to have a ruptured testicle removed, and went the next six weeks with his jaws wired together eating soup through a straw. He had to claim some boys from Beckley jumped him; otherwise, what he was doing would have come to light. Now he had a score to settle, and he was sure he sensed weakness. After all, not only had Jake been physically injured and mentally traumatized recently, but he didn't look too good. He's lost weight, his cheeks were hollow and gaunt, and his bloodshot eyes had dark circles under them; he looked to Bobby like he was sick.
“So, where're your butt-buddies, Scott and Joe Bob?”
The silence began with everyone in hearing distance, and spread like a soundless wave until, in less than five seconds, the lunch room was quiet except for the sounds of the students nearest Jake, scooting further away. When it came, Jake's voice was dead calm, as clear and cold as a mountain stream in the winter running over the icy rocks.
“Leave me the hell alone, Bobby, you hear?”
“Yeah!” Mary snapped from across the table, “You leave him alone!”
Bobby nodded sideways at the girl, but never took his eyes off Jake as he sneered, “Got a girl fighting your battles for you now, pussy? What did you do; drop that stupid shit-ass Joe Bob down that mine shaft so you could have his whore?”
Just as the bully had counted on, Jake put both hands on the table in preparation for getting up, and Bobby took the opportunity to swing a powerful roundhouse right, just when his victim was most vulnerable.
Duck!
Somehow, Jake's head wasn't there to meet it; with a flicking motion of his neck, he made room for the big, hard fist to pass by, barely brushing a strand of his sandy hair, and throwing his attacker completely off balance.
When asked about it later, nobody in the lunch room could say for sure they saw Jake move, but they all saw what happened; he was suddenly on his feet and stiff-armed his tray food-side-first into his tormentor's face so hard that Bobby's ass colliding with the next table was all that saved him from hitting the floor.
While Bobby furiously struggled upright while wiping potatoes and gravy out of his eyes, he heard Jake warn him in that same cold voice, “You red-haired son of a bitch, you come near me again, you even open your mouth to me again, I'll kill you.”
It'll be good, Jake!
Some distant part of Jake was frightened, not of Bobby Tyndall, but at the anticipation and eagerness he was suddenly feeling, but that part was very distant; there was something inside him, something hungry squirming through his veins and his nervous system like a red and black octopus with a thousand arms, all moving at an impossible speed. Worst of all was the girl's voice – not Mary's, but Susie's, coming from all around him, from inside him.
Do it, Jake! Don't let him hurt you! Get him! Kill him! FEED ON HIM!
Then, when Bobby lunged for him, Jake was overcome by the hunger, and it consumed him.
Frank Estep sat with the Sheriff and the principal, and only managed to keep his mouth from hanging open by the expedient of locking his jaw as they watched the lunch room surveillance recording.
Bobby lunged and Jake ducked low, sinking his hands into his attacker's crotch and throat before straightening up and lifting the much larger boy directly over his head and driving him cranium-first into the table that collapsed under the impact.
“That's...not possible,” Frank had whispered, but he quickly saw that many things were possible he would never have considered before.
For instance, it was possible for him to swear he heard the sickening snap of bone on a silent recording when Jake caught the stunned Bobby's elbow and savagely wrenched it ninety-degrees in the opposite direction nature had intended while the boy's mouth opened in a silent scream.
It was possible to see Jake's thumb dart in like a snake, and bring the other boy's eye out like a plucked grape before ripping it off the optic nerve and slinging across the dining room where it stuck to a wall right beside a screaming girl's head.
To his utter horror, it was possible for his only son, his own flesh and blood, to clamp his teeth on another boy's throat and start to bite.
Start to chew.
Start to swallow.
Start to greedily gulp, and not let go until it too
k four teachers to pull him loose.
“That Tyndall boy is lucky to be alive,” Sheriff Tate said quietly before looking pointedly at Frank, “Your boy is lucky he's still alive. He bit into his jugular, and was headed for the carotid when they pulled him loose. Another five seconds, and it would have been a manslaughter charge instead of felonious assault and assault with intent.”
“Felonious assault!” Frank rallied, instinctively coming to the defense of his son, “That boy attacked him, remember? And it's not the first time he's jumped on other students either!”
Principal Ferguson's voice was shaken too, but softer than either of the others.
“Frank, we've been friends for a long time. I know you love Jake – hell, I do too; I've known him since he was a baby – but you've got to admit he overreacted.”
“Damn it! That boy was twice his size!” Realizing how hollow that sounded, he paused and took a deep breath. “Look, that ain't Jake; you know that. You know he hasn't been right since...since that shit happened to him! It's all that damned medication the doctor put him on!”
“What medication?” the Sheriff asked sharply, then paled at the list of of anti-depressants and anti-psychotics.
“God almighty, Frank! How in the hell is he functioning with all that shit in his system?”
Gesturing helplessly at the TV screen the security video had been playing on, Jake's father replied, “Obviously he's not, is he?!”
When the three entered the empty classroom, they saw the burly vice principal and the gym coach carefully watching a seat in the corner. Jake sat there looking shell-shocked, covered with drying Tyndall blood and staring at nothing.
“Jake,” the Principal said, “are you okay?”
“Not particularly, Mr. Ferguson, or I don't reckon I'd be in this mess, but thanks for asking.”
There was nothing aggressive in his tone, nothing but misery that emanated from the boy in pulsing waves everyone in the room could almost feel, and Frank felt like his heart would shatter.
Ferguson nodded sympathetically. “I know, son. You know I've got to permanently expel you from school, don't you? God help me, I wish there was some other way, but I have no choice; I've got the safety of the other students to consider. I'm sorry.”
Jake nodded.
“It's alright, sir. I understand; I reckon I don't belong here anymore anyway.” He looked away. “Don't reckon I belong much of anywhere around here anymore.”
Frank noticed the principal's eyes welling with tears, and then it was the Sheriff's turn.
“I've spoken to the prosecutor, to the magistrate, and to your doctor; with all the trauma and all the dope they've got you on, plus the fact it was one of the Tyndalls you nearly killed, there's no point in wasting the county's money prosecuting you, because no jury here would ever return a conviction...but,” he added with a pointing index finger for emphasis, “you're not to leave your family's property unless your father or mother or some other responsible adult designated by them are with you, under any circumstances. I'm releasing you into their custody, but,” again with emphasis, this time with the thumb joining the index finger, their tips so close together they were almost touching, “You are this close to an involuntary commitment to a psychiatric hospital, and, if I catch you out without an adult before your doctor says different, that's just where you'll be. Do I make myself clear?”
There was fear in Susie's voice when she said, Go along with them, Jake. Do whatever they say, at least for now.
“Yes sir, but I don't reckon that'll be a problem. I don't want to go anywhere or see anyone right now anyway.”
Jake knew he was lying right to their faces.
There's one place I want to go and one person I want to see so bad I feel like it's killing me!
It didn't help that he could hear that person's voice in his head right now; in fact, he'd never stopped hearing it.
You know I'll be here, Jake, waiting for you whenever you're ready. I love you.
“Come on, son,” Frank told him wearily, seeing the now-familiar far-away look in his eyes, “Let's just go home.”
Chapter 23
“Mary, I don't think this is the best time; Jake's not feeling well right now.”
Kathy looked at Mary Jane Allison standing at her front door, and saw the girl shake her head.
“Then he needs a friend to talk to. It's not right that he's in trouble; he was defending me.”
“Defending you?” Frank said, coming up to stand behind his wife, “I saw the video of what happened, so there's no need to try to cover up what he...did.”
“Bet you didn't hear the sound though, did you?”
“No, but – ”
“That Tyndall white trash cussed poor Joe Bob, who ain't here to defend himself, and then called me a whore right to my face! I know maybe I'm not always a good girl, Mr. Estep, but I ain't no whore, not like Bobby Tyndall's own mother is. That's why Jake stood up to him, and I'm here to thank him for doing it.”
Kathy knew she was sincere from the tears gathering in the girl's eyes, and she was glad her son had at least one friend, but Frank shook his head.
“I'm sorry, honey, but after that episode, I can't let you see him just now.”
“Why?”
“Look, I'm just afraid something might happen.”
“You're afraid of Jake?” she shouted out, “You mean to tell me you're afraid of your own son?”
Frank hesitated just a second, but that brief flash of time was telling.
“Mary Jane, after what he did...”
“I know what he did, Mr. Estep; I was there, right across the table from him, remember? I've still got blood on my clothes from it, and I ain't afraid of him, not one little bit. I hate to be stubborn, but Jake's my friend and he needs someone to talk to right now, and I'm either gonna do it, or you're gonna have to call the sheriff to come and get me, because I'm not leaving until I do!”
She crossed her arms and stuck her lip out like a toddler in a tantrum, but the look in her eyes told them loud and clear she meant every word.
Kathy spoke up before Frank could think of what to say.
“Alright, Mary, you can go talk to him.” She glanced at Frank, and then added, “It'll be okay, and I think maybe he does need someone right now.”
Two minutes later both of Jake's parents stood outside the door of his room that Mary had closed behind her.
“Do you really think this is a good idea?”
Kathy looked up at her husband.
“I don't know; all I know is I don't have a better one.”
“I'm surprised you're here; everyone else seems to be scared shitless of me.”
From her seat beside him on his bed, Mary reached out and took Jake's hand.
“I'm not afraid of you.”
He squeezed in return.
“Thanks; that means a lot.”
“Does it mean enough for you to tell me what really happened up there on that mountain?”
Jake blew out his breath.
“I'm sure you know the story...”
“No,” she said, shaking her head, “I know the story that they came back with, but it sounds like a bunch of bull to me. It is, isn't it?”
“Look, Mary, I don't think – ”
“I do think; no matter what people say about me, I do think, and right now I think I have the right to know about Joe Bob, don't you? After all, I loved him, and I want to know what really happened to him.”
Tell her, Jake; she has the right to know. I sure know how it feels to love somebody and lose them.
Jake sat in silence for a moment, thinking of what the voice had said, and then asked, “Are you sure?”
She gave a tight-lipped nod in response, and he said, “Alright, but on one condition; you can't ever tell another living soul what I'm about to tell you. Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
“Okay, but you're going to think I'm crazy. It started about two weeks before we went up there; all
three of us – Joe Bob, Scott, and me – started having these dreams...”
She remained silent while he spoke, and then for awhile longer after he finished.
“So Joe Bob isn't really dead.”
“He's dead; I saw him dying, but he's back; Dad said he was with her...with Elizabeth. He's one of them now...a vampire.”
“Does she love him?”
That one threw Jake for a loop, and before he could think of how to answer, Susie's voice came again.
She feels about him like I feel about you.
“Yeah, I reckon she does.”
Carefully watching his face, she said, “That voice in your head you told me about, it just spoke to you, just now, didn't it?”
Jake started to deny it by reflex, and then moved his head in the affirmative.
“Yeah, Susie did. I think she's the only one who can talk to me, because I'm the one she chose.”
“Ask her if she can hear me.”
“What?”
“Ask her if she can hear me. I want to talk to her.”
I can hear.
“Yes,” Jake told her, “she can hear what I hear.”
“Alright, then, I'm going to talk to her, and whatever she says, no matter what it is, I want you to speak it back to me, just like she said it.”
“Okay”
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she began. “Susie, is Joe Bob one of you...I mean like you, dead but still kind of alive?”
Yes.
“Yes.”
“Can I talk to him like I'm talking to you?”
No, he doesn't know how yet. It takes a lot of practice; it took us the best part of a hundred years to figure it out.
Jake relayed the information, and Mary swallowed hard.
“He can never come back and be normal again, can he?”
No. I wish he could – I wish we all could – but there ain't no going back.
She was crying as Jake spoke Susie's words.
“Even...even though he's w-with your sister now...could you please tell him I love him, and I miss him really bad? Please?”
I can do that. I'm really sorry for you that it all ended up this way, but we've been alone since 1920, and it gets so lonely not having anyone else. Think how you feel now, and then think about how long we've felt that way. We don't even have the daylight anymore.