Divine_Scream

by Benjamin Kane Ethridge

  A young brunette woman approached their table with a sheepish grin. She opened her purse and fished around for something. She withdrew her cash and credit cards and set them on the table. Then she reached up to her necklace, but Banch stopped her. “No darling, we don’t need any of this. We want privacy right now. Can you please let everyone else know?”

  “So sorry, yes,” the woman replied and quickly gathered up her items. She went from there to a table nearby and shared the request. Then moved on to the next table and worked her way through the restaurant.

  “How long does this last?” asked Jared.

  “Forever,” Banch explained. “But you can send them away for good if they bug you.”

  All eyes in the restaurant focused on them, neediness welling in every pair.

  Jared’s insides chilled. “They’d fight for us too, wouldn’t they?”

  “Yes,” said Banch. She studied him a second. “Would you use them that way?”

  “Absolutely not,” he replied.

  “Good. Me neither. It might needlessly change the death schedule anyway.”

  Jared couldn’t help the smile forming on his lips. “So this entire restaurant—everybody in here is our slave?”

  “I think a few people in the kitchen avoided the effect—the Swell has made my range more limited. All of my screams will be less effective for a while. Hopefully those few unaffected people don’t own the fastest car in the parking lot. You’ll need a high performance machine to drive through the choked streets.”

  “But—I can’t drive. I don’t drive. I never have.”

  “You will today,” Banch said simply.

  “I can’t.”

  “It’s only for the first leg of your trip. The rules still apply to my twin. She can’t break connection with the ground. Once you find her, both of you will need to return on foot. It won’t be far, but it certainly won’t be easy coming back on foot. The SCUBA gear will provide you enough air to avoid the coma though.”

  Jared sunk in his chair.

  Banch glanced at the menu. “Oh look, fried okra!”

  “Maybe this is too much.”

  She dropped the menu on the table. “What?”

  “This, all this stuff we have to do.” He threw his hands together. “I’m gonna die anyway, Banch.”

  “We’ve covered this. The Assembly is worse.”

  “I know, but if more people get hurt—”

  “We aren’t going to let anyone get hurt.” Banch grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “We’re going to get you to the ocean, remove the mark of the Gift, and your soul will be spared. You think this is difficult? You don’t want to look back on this moment until the end of time and wish you’d fought harder. Believe me, Jared Kare.”

  He rubbed at a small headache forming in the center of his forehead. “Will you go back to the Deeper Unseen after the beach? You’ll still be my banshee, right? You’ll be there for me… when I go.”

  She gave him a faint smile. “Certainly.”

  “You promise?”

  Banch sighed and crossed her heart.

  It was difficult holding a conversation with every person at every table staring at them with expectant, hungry gazes.

  “You said the Pacific Ocean shares space between our dimensions. Back in the Deeper Unseen, do you ever swim its waters?” he asked.

  “The Paled Ocean? I have a few times. I can feel this world in its every drop. I adore this one beach near a free-zone called Mazanyia. It’s a peaceful place that the Silent Kings don’t control. The city is known for its fine parchment and textiles. Quaint yellow and white cottages built into the sapphire moss covered cliffs. You would like it.”

  “I bet.” Jared noticed he still had his fingers looped around the detergent’s handle. He moved the box between his feet under the table.

  The waiter showed up at his side with two men. “I’ve brought these two gentlemen for you. Jason here has a Mustang Shelby 2014—next was a supped-up Camry, but I think we have a winner.”

  “Sounds perfect,” said Banch. Jared swallowed uneasily.

  A tall, handsome, nicely dressed Mexican man with a shaved head pressed the keys into Jared’s hand. “It’s at half a tank. Do I need to get it filled up?”

  “No, we’ll be fine, thanks,” Banch told him.

  “Are you hungry? Want dinner? The prime rib jambalaya is awesome. I’ll pay of course, and how about some hurricanes?”

  “Maybe later,” Jared said. “Thank you. I’ll try to be careful with your car.”

  “Do what needs to be done, brother. It’s your car now.” He patted Jared’s shoulder and jumped up with childish delight, so happy to have provided for his masters.

  “This is Kyle,” the waiter introduced the other man, “and he dives and snorkels all over the world.”

  The deeply tanned man’s heavily stoned eyes peered out behind his long shaggy golden hair. “My gear’s at home, but I’m less than a few miles from here. I can hurry.”

  Before Jared could answer, Banch said, “Yes, please do.”

  Kyle charged down the aisle and sprinted the length of the restaurant. He slammed his shoulder into the front door rather than opening it and took off running outside as though on fire. Everyone at the tables stared on in envy. Jason and the waiter bowed and left Banch and Jared alone once more.

  Jared looked down at the keys. “Haven’t driven since I was sixteen.”

  “I remember,” said Banch. “But you’ll do fine.”

  “How do I know where to find your twin?”

  “You’ve been with me long enough now—up in the sky you’ll notice a crease in time-space. Follow that and you should find her.”

  “Will she cooperate?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I’ve Fused with other Banches from different realities before.”

  He absently jiggled Jason’s Mustang keys, a Corona beer bottle opener with a half-naked lady swung from it. “Boy. Different versions of you. That’s crazy.”

  “Not really. Not when you’ve gone through time as long as I have.”

  “How old are you then?”

  “Screw you, Jared.”

  “Whoa sorry.”

  She faked punching him in the jaw and laughed. “Okay. We’ve wasted enough time. I need to begin Fusing. You’ll notice the choked street will erupt in steam once the Lung Spike is destroyed. If my twin isn’t sitting in this chair very soon after that happens, we will fail. Be careful and be quick.”

  Jared knuckled a cold bead of sweat off his brow. “Okay. You be careful too, I mean, with them.”

  “Don’t worry. They’ll not see me coming.”

  “What if they do?”

  “My twin will vanish… and you’ll know that you’re on your own. That will be your cue to get into your new muscle car and floor it all the way to the beach. The Assembly will most likely use one of their grants and head you off at the beach. If you can avoid that and get into the water, you’ll be lucky.”

  Jared sighed through his nose.

  “Okay,” said Banch. “So, again, no more talking. Time for shit to happen.”

  Jared wanted to hold on, had a dark feeling this would be the last he saw of her, or at least this version of her. The sound that came from Banch made the insides of his ears itch—maybe even his brain tickle—bizarre, but more bizarre was the feeling of rain coming down inside his skull.

  The banshee rested her head down on her slender arms and slowly faded—translucent, transparent, and then gone.

  “Bye,” said Jared. He took a breath and looked at the empty chair for a long moment. “I love you. God help me, but I do.”

  A hand dropped on his shoulder. Kyle, clearly out of breath but very happy, held out a SCUBA mask. The tank was at his side. “Hey man, it’s yours. Full tank too. Just filled it for Catalina, but whatever. I love that I can give this to you.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it,” Jared told him. “Sorry you’
ll miss your trip.”

  “Nah! Anything else you need?”

  “This will do. Oh, well, you could tell everybody in here to hang tight until I get back. It’s dangerous out there.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Thanks.” Jared took the mask and tank and headed out of the restaurant, all eyes on him. Once outside, he saw the silver crease running down from the sky in the distance.

  “There she is,” he whispered. The twin.

  The Mustang Shelby was parked out front, black and red paint job, like a robot black widow. Down the street by the bus stop, a man and woman screamed at each other. Their little girl cowered beside them, hands up to her trembling mouth.

  It wasn’t the type of image Jared wanted to absorb before climbing into the driver’s seat of a car for the first time ever, feeling like a kid himself all over again, but he had to do this. He had Banch to worry about now. She wanted to save him, but he actually thought, for maybe the first time ever in his life, that he didn’t want to be saved.

  He put the keys in the driver’s side door and a sad thought settled on him. With all the banshee had asked him about what he wanted in life, he hadn’t done the same for her. What would make Banch happy? What did she need?

  Jared hoped there was still a chance to find out.

  * * *

  When Jared was ten years old…

  His mom and dad argued more than ever. Had he not been so terrified by the prospect, had he not been so terribly young, had he not thought himself the defective piece of the machine that needed fixing, he would have embraced a divorce.

  It was only a few days after his birthday and he was trying to ride his new bike. He didn’t have much experience without training wheels, but was happy he could ride on his own now. He took a spill and cut up his elbows earlier that morning, after which his dad kept at his side and wouldn’t let him pedal off alone—at first Jared loathed this, but then decided the extra attention wasn’t a bad thing.

  “Bob,” said his mother from the front porch. “Why don’t you just let him go? He’s fine.”

  “If this bike wasn’t such a hunk of shit, I might.”

  She folded her arms against her pale green house dress. “You helped pick it out.”

  “Yeah, from the rest of the used crap.”

  The insinuation was clear. Jared’s father always griped that his mother needed a better paying job.

  “You’re a prick,” she told him, and went inside.

  His father just waved this off, but later, after they finished going up and down the block on his bike in awkward silence, he stormed back into the house. His father’s hands were plunged deep in the pockets of his jeans, which always meant he was pissed beyond all belief. His mother was taking out a casserole dish from the cupboard when he started in.

  “You know that kid is the only reason I stay with your abusive ass. After you went out on me with that, that, waiter. I think you forget about that.”

  His mother gently set the dishware on the sink. “You’ve reminded me enough these past six years, so how would I ever forget? Why not give it a damn rest? How about that?”

  His father took a deep, exasperated breath and scowled. “Jimmy called me up the other day and asked if I wanted to play a little softball with the guys, like in the old days. But I couldn’t do it. I’m too afraid you’ll take the opportunity to go off and hump someone.”

  His mother’s eyes glittered with a special kind of hate for her husband. “You are so childish it makes me sick to my stomach. Really, you do.”

  “Oh, I’m the disgusting one?”

  “What about Jared, you selfish asshole?” She pointed at him and Jared almost felt the sharpness of the gesture in his gut.

  “And I’m also the selfish one? Wow, this is so eye-opening! I had no idea it was me fucking everything up. Well, let me let you in on a secret, Mary: Jared will be fine. A lot of kids have to live in two places. A lot of kids are completely happy that way.”

  “Right.”

  “I don’t need this crap anymore. You’re ruining all of our lives!”

  “Why?” His mother slammed a fist into a cupboard. “How? Tell me! By just existing? You miserable bastard!”

  Jared ran out then. His mother had never been so loud and his father had never sounded so sure about something in his entire life. Out of the door in a flash, Jared grabbed his new bike, hopped on, and took off. He pedaled down the sidewalk like he was going for warp speed, like maybe he could time travel somewhere in the near future when this fight had simmered.

  His front tire hit a deep crack in the concrete and he flew over the handlebars. In the remoteness, his parents were screaming, and above the sky also screamed, but with light blue and dark gray words. Everything ended in painful strobe lights. The breath had been knocked out of him and it took a few attempts to regain it. He rubbed some grit and pebbles off his cheek and saw his parents slowing down, winded and white-hot concern in their faces. He rolled over and his left leg cramped and made him cry out, more in surprise than in pain. His parents’ arms were disembodied things that stretched out for him, and he avoided their touch like poisonous tentacles from the deep. He broke away from them and ran for the house. Once he got back he shut himself in his room. They came back into the house a few minutes later. He could hear his mother slamming things in the kitchen and his father going on about the “piece of shit bicycle” again.

  Jared hurried to his closet, thinking he’d take all his clothes and run away to show them, to make them feel horrible for this, but instead he rested his head against the closet door and gently pounded his skull there. “Don’t,” he whispered and pounded harder. “Don’t,” he said again. Harder. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

  “DON’T!” He roared and slammed his head into the wood. Don’t. Thump. Don’t. Thump. Don’t. Thump.

  He couldn’t tell when they came in, but he remembered his parents pulled him away from the closet before any real damage could be done.

  “Don’t leave me,” he cried. “I need you both. You have to help me. Or something bad will happen again, like when I used to go to Bella’s.”

  “Baby,” his mother began.

  “No!” he hollered. “Don’t divorce! Okay? Don’t divorce. Don’t divorce. Don’t divorce. PLEASE!”

  Jared sobbed for a long time, both his parents hovering protectively over him, and when he finally quieted his mom or his dad, he couldn’t recall which, said, “Of course we won’t do that. Of course honey. We’ll always be here together.”

  Of course.

  Chapter 11

  Jared

  Jared had one moment of joy, though brief, about being in a Mustang—he’d really feared it would be a stick shift and if that were the case, the trip would have been near impossible, but the Shelby had a six-speed select shift automatic transmission. The driver could choose manual or automatic. This being the case, he gladly let the car shift for him.

  The black leather and silver interior reminded him of something inside a Star Wars spaceship and it might as well have been, for he’d never bothered to pay attention to gauges and buttons in a car. That was the driver’s responsibility.

  Now, he was the driver.

  He checked the pedals. He was pretty sure the brake was in the middle. That’s how he remembered it, but hell, that was half his lifetime ago.

  It will be half your lifetime forever…

  “Shut up,” he told his brain and turned the key. Fear fell on him, heavy, cloying, dark, and unjustified. He imagined most people would enjoy sitting in a car like this, but its superiority petrified him. His heart thunder-trembled at the sound of the engine turning over. He took a couple deep breaths and wrapped his hands around the sleek steering wheel. It felt really good, much better than his Dad’s old station wagon.

  He tapped the first pedal and heard no sound. Good, that’s the brake. Outside he checked the sky again for the crease. It made sense to drive the way he was pointed, whatever direction that was, and then
he would turn left and keep going until the crease got larger in his view.

  He placed the scuba mask over his face and tested the tank, which he’d leaned against the passenger seat. Air flowed out with a low hiss and he twisted the valve shut.

  A couple cars passed by and it made him think about the world that had become involved in his and Banch’s problems. He wondered if telling the people to stay at the restaurant had been a good idea. What if he didn’t come back? Would they wait there forever?

  And what about the rest of the city who happened to find themselves blacking out for no reason? What could they imagine was happening in these choked streets? The end of the world?

  “You’re stalling,” he told himself, and placed his foot on the accelerator. The engine made a tremendous sound of effort, but nothing happened. “Oh, stupid.” He dropped the gear into drive and pressed again. The car lurched and a thick grating sound came from underneath. Now what?

  Realizing the cause, he shook his head in self-reproach and put the parking brake down. “Great, this trip is going to be just… splendid.”

  The car moved forward and a thrill went through him. He was doing it. He was driving. He checked the mirrors, which he’d toyed with first and had them perfect. No other moving cars were in sight, which made things somewhat less stressful, he supposed. The light ahead turned red and he slowed to a stop.

  He almost heard Banch in his head. There isn’t time to be law abiding, dummy—go!

  Unconsciously, he stomped the gas pedal and the car roared ahead. He busted through three red lights, not even watching for cross traffic. He checked over his shoulder and the crease had changed position in relation to him.

  “Okay, left,” he said, and put on the blinker.

  He turned left and built speed. Thoughts of crashing immediately went away as something sucked the breath from his lungs. He pawed open the valve on the oxygen tank. When he didn’t feel much air he turned the valve some more, but the flow was as free as it was going to get. His lungs just weren’t opening all the way.

  He squinted at the path ahead, feeling faint. Shapes lay in the street. He tapped the brake. The world wobbled; the planet was a balloon ready to fly away and get caught around the neck of a carousel horse, the universe one giant merry-go-round. Vertigo gripped him tighter. He feared he might vomit into his scuba mask.