The Two That Remained

by Mauldin, J Fitzpatrick

  Little Danny’s bedroom, in the upstairs of Karen’s house, was just as Ryan had left it the day before. The bed was made. The computer was off. Hockey equipment was piled in the corner. Dusty sports’ trophies were on top of the dresser. The room was glowing with residual life, mourning the loss of its occupant. Ryan wondered for a moment what it would have been like if Emily had been a boy instead of a girl, and that thought made him cringe. He was scared enough to have a kid, but boys were wild and crazy. He had been meant to be a father to a little princess, not a gladiator. Thankfully, in this case, little gladiators turn into bigger gladiators, who become pyros, who then become barely legal demolitionists.

  Ryan turned to look beside the door and found just what he was after. He ripped open the brightly colored box and went through two paper bags, grabbing everything loud and bright he could find. The air before him was thick with the sting of sulfur. There were small rows of red and brown sticks bound together by cord. Eighteen inch garish tubes with short fuses and Chinese characters down the side. Black spheres and others that looked as if they were made of chalk, waiting for a spark to put them to their purpose.

  Ryan might not have known Karen’s oldest very well, but he had learned a lot about the kid over the past couple days, and one thing was for sure.

  Little Danny had loved some fireworks.

  Chapter 22

  Getting off of their street and back onto N. Skinker Blvd was a parenting challenge. Emily was being obstinate, always wanting to go the opposite direction Ryan intended. The tether clipped to her backpack was being put through a constant stress test. He knew the cord and carabiner could handle much more force than she could produce, but he wasn’t so sure about the nylon loop at the top. With enough stubborn effort, he had a feeling it would rip at the seams. He picked her up for a minute, kicking and screaming, got them back on track and led them up the main road. He was thankful the wild dogs had not yet come out to play, but was ready for them. Maybe the coming rain would hold them back.

  Ryan limped between the dirty, rusting cars and collection of nature’s unchecked detritus: leaves and seeds and dead tree limbs. He kept them away from the sidewalk, where bushes and brush were thick, giving animals a place to ambush. Branches rustled and a collection of small creatures’ clicking ceased. Their beady eyes stared, reflecting green light.

  Down its left, the once busy, five lane boulevard, was lined with a short stone wall that paid no mind to the changes of the world. The antique, old money brick homes beyond were nearly impossible to see given the overgrowth of trees and unkempt bushes. A ripple of thunder vibrated the bones of the city. Ryan’s ankle throbbed at the same frequency, yet with a more urgent timbre. He stumbled and recovered.

  Emily was chatting it up with Bullwhip Barbie while sticking close, her tether only three feet long.

  “Come on, Ryan,” he told himself. “Remember. Keep focused on your goal. How far is it again?”

  The throbbing in Ryan’s ankle had begun to recede, though his strength was faltering with it. The world had become blurry in an all new way, reality far removed. He swung his head to the left and saw a mannequin standing at the corner of Washington Avenue dressed in dirty slacks and a green sweater. Ryan shook his head and paused. The mannequin was fixed on a stand, like in a department store, standing tall. The wind swelled, leaves rustling all around. Ryan felt warm. The mannequin rocked in the breeze, its plastic expression unchanged.

  “What’s that?” Emily pointed.

  Ryan did not answer. He tugged on Emily’s tether and led them past the stone church onto Delmar Blvd also known as The Loop.

  A recently revitalized area of old St. Louis, The Loop was one of the biggest reasons Ryan and Lillian had bought a house where they had. Former home to a famous trolley loop, it was just the right level of mid-century Americana and trendy new spots, as well as enough inside the city that they could tell their late-twenties friends they were living somewhere hip, and thus part of something organic and interesting. It was a place of vibrant life, bursting of renewal, of drawing forgotten history to the forefront of our days, reminding St. Louisans what was great about their city to begin with. It was home to the culturally historic St. Louis walk of fame, legendary Pageant nightclub, beautiful Tivoli theatre and kitschy, yet cute, Blueberry Hill Restaurant and Music Club. Every weekend this place was packed full of people looking for a good meal, great music, a cold beer, and new friends. But none of that mattered anymore. Not to Ryan. Not to the world. The Loop was just another open grave no one was around to give a damn about. On any other day this might have made Ryan sad. Instead, all it did was leave him feeling empty and confused.

  As Ryan gave a passing glance to the once lively shops, all he could think about was if they might contain the medicine he desperately needed. The nearest drug store was at least a mile off through The Loop, but maybe in one of the other shops he’d get lucky. There was a brand new organic grocery a couple streets down he considered might not be a bad place to check first, but he wasn’t sure if they had their own pharmacy. He doubted it. Gluten free organic Greek froyo and lingonberry flavored Swedish muffins, sure—antibiotic drugs and non-marijuana, controlled substances? Not likely.

  “Best stick to the plan,” he mumbled and felt himself getting dizzy. His legs and chest were going numb, toes tingling and fingers thick as thumbs. “What the heck?” A wave of euphoria washed over him just as the sky flashed white with lightning. Emily’s tether felt longer than it had, as if she were suddenly ten feet away. He turned back to look at the mannequin almost out of sight around the corner, swearing it had turned to face him.

  Emily dropped her Barbie and began to cry. Even though it was right in front of her within easy reach, the task was just too much. “Dada.”

  “What?” he snapped.

  “My bobby.”

  “Your what? Oh, your Barbie?” His forehead tingled. “Geez, pick her up. Come on.”

  She kept crying. “You, you.”

  He sighed. “We don’t have time for this. Pick her up yourself or we’re leaving her here.”

  “No.” She reached towards him, both arms out, loose pigtails whipping in the wind. “Please, Dada. Pwese, hold hold.”

  He tested his ankle and felt his balance waver. “I can’t. You’re just going to have to walk on your own. Get your Barbie and come on.”

  “I no want.”

  “Oh for God’s sake.” He bent over and snatched up Bullwhip Barbie. He went to stuff her in Emily’s backpack for safekeeping. She twisted and slapped at him. “What? Let’s put her in there so you don’t lose her.”

  “I no want bobby in backpat.”

  “If we lose her because you’re being stubborn she’s gone. That’s it. Don’t cry about it later.” He tried to crouch and give her a hug. “Come on, Emme. It’s okay.” She pushed him away. “Come on.”

  “No, Dada. Shew. Go. Away. Away!”

  He shot back up and threw his arms out. “Fine, fine! If this is how you’re gonna be, Barbie can take a flying leap!” He threw the doll down the street, its unrealistically proportioned body tumbling end over end, bullwhip flapping. It landed on the curb of a taco joint, and he immediately felt guilty. This was not an action he could undo. There is no ctrl+z for questionable actions when you’re a parent.

  Ryan felt the eyeless face of the mannequin judging his actions. He wasn’t going to let that plastic jackass tell him how to raise his child. Besides, mannequins couldn’t have kids even if they wanted to, so what sort of business was it of his? Emily needed to learn to calm down given the nature of their situation. Ryan was close to death. True, at present he just felt warm and energetic, like his veins had been injected with sunlight and puppy power, so nothing seemed all that big of a deal.

  It wasn’t natural, right?

  “You’ll fuck her up,” the mannequin told him in a smug tone.

  “I’m sorry, what was that?” Ryan marched towards the well-dressed plastic man, Emily in tow. “What di
d you just say? I’m sorry, it wasn’t quite loud enough for me to hear clearly.”

  The smooth, featureless face spoke again. “You heard me. You’ll fuck her up acting like that. Throwing a shouting tantrum in front of your daughter is just as bad as hitting her for no reason. You’re the adult, and that’s child abuse. If I were you, I would be concerned someone would turn you in to DSS. Have you seen that pigsty the two of you live in? Seriously. And food? Can’t even feed your daughter a regular meal, or give her a bath! I mean, come on, these are serious matters that are simple to take care of. Yet, what are you doing? Dragging her around in the freakin’ rain? What kind of parent are you? Do you want her to get pneumonia?”

  Ryan and Emily were back where the mannequin was standing. “You see here! How dare you tell me how to raise my child? How many kids do you have? Huh? Tell me.”

  “More than you deserve.” The mannequin was haughty.

  “You have no idea who I am.”

  “Oh, but I do! You are the kind of man that just when his wife gives him the cold shoulder for a while, and not even that long, six months maybe, you start dreaming about greener pastures. Or should I say, more well-trimmed ones. I bet Karen’s got a smooth strip for you to touch down on.”

  “Shut up! You, shut up!”

  “The kind of guy that leaves a loaded gun sitting on top of his dresser within easy access of his toddler. Seriously? The Anti-NRA libtards would love to prove you stupid. You have to lock that up. Who's gonna break into your house nowa-days? Eh? Legions of undead skeletons?”

  “Shut up! Shut up!” Ryan’s face was turning red.

  “A guy that runs away when he finds his wife’s body instead of properly taking care of it, like she would have wanted. You should have buried her or cremated what was left. Instead, you left her bony form to sit around UBL’s labs as macabre decorations.”

  Ryan averted his blurry eyes.

  “And now, you can’t even properly discipline your child without having a big ass fucking adult tantrum and throwing your daughter’s favorite new doll away. You got to learn to chill the fuck out, man.”

  “I’m not gonna take this from a plastic son of a bitch!” Ryan’s clenched fists shook.

  “Oh, so now you’re getting racist?” The motionless mannequin chuckled, a spittle of water running down his face onto his chin. “What a great thing to teach your daughter. Hate for plastic people. What’s next? Homosexuals? Asians? Followers of Islam? I thought you were a tolerant person. Progressive.”

  “I am tolerant. Understanding. Open minded.”

  “Hah. Just because you have a black best friend, you think everything is okay?”

  “Yes, I mean—no. What?”

  “Just a privileged little boy who can’t take good care of his daughter because he’s too damn lazy.”

  Ryan reared back his fist and cuffed the mannequin on the jaw. It hurt, despite the warm tingling in his body. The mannequin tumbled onto the sidewalk and spoke no more. For a moment, Ryan thought he might have killed a man, then remembered.

  “It’s just plastic. That’s all. Right? Just a plastic man.” But was he really being intolerant? “It’s not alive, is it? Is it?”

  Emily was sobbing. She didn’t understand what was going on, and neither did her father.

  Ryan rubbed his temples, trying to ease the strange sensations in his head. He led Emily to where he’d chucked the doll, glancing occasionally over his shoulder, feet scuffing the pavement. Despite his mounting detachment, he felt terrible. He had been an idiot. No undo.

  He turned to face Emily. “I’m so sorry,” he said, handing Bullwhip Barbie back. “Daddy got a little upset for no good reason.” Though he knew he’d been justified in the moment. Fuck the mannequin’s hippy ideas. He wasn’t abusive, but sometimes there was no other way for her to listen than to get loud.

  Emily sniffed and smoothed Bullwhip Barbie’s hair back with an open palm. “One no star for eat eat?”

  “Are you hungry? Is that what this is all about?” His stomach growled at the mention.

  She nodded. “Uhuh. Hungry.”

  He sat down in the middle of the street, butt on an upended metal bucket, and went through his backpack. He tried to work the zipper but found it increasingly hard to pinch. He swallowed the unease rising in his throat. He was no longer feverish, but was finding focus hard to come by. “Spam? That’s all I packed to eat?” He held up the can, peered around, and felt exposed where they sat. Nowhere to run. “Sorry, Emme, your Daddy messed up and didn’t pack any legit food. Then again, what could I have packed for the road?”

  “Food?” She grinned.

  “No food. I’m still not sure about the Spam. Is it safe? Or is it ‘You’re Taking a Risk Johnny’?” He flipped the can over and dropped it on the pavement. It fell like a tin brick. As he bent over to pick it up, the lighter, water, and roman candles tumbled out of his pack. He fell over on his side, laughed, and stuffed them back into the bag. It began to drizzle, a soft, uneven rain that could persist for hours and not deeply soak your clothes.

  “Dotty?” Emily said, pointing.

  Ryan rolled his eyes. “What?” he chuckled a little harder, feeling a stitch in his side. “What is it? What’s a dotty? That’s a weird word.”

  “Dada, dotty.” She eased up against him, arms reaching around his shoulders. “Hold. Hold.” She was still pointing.

  “I can’t, Emme. I told you already. Daddy is not feeling that easy on his feet. I don’t want to stumble and hurt you. Hell, I don’t want to stumble and hurt myself. You’ll be super walking another while. We can do this, together.” Then Ryan pivoted in the direction Emily was pointing. “Oh, fuck me.”

  He scrambled to take hold of the lighter, reached in his pocket and pulled out a handful of small paper tubes bound together by cloth cords. He took a whiff of his sulfurous fingers and his heart ran away.

  A group of dogs stood at the edge of the curb. These were even more ragged than Cerberus, their flanks diminished, emaciated, each rib clear as if they’d been wrapped in plastic cling instead of flesh. The alpha, a massive greyhound with a single milky eye, peeled back his teeth and growled. At the sound, Ryan began to play through the events of Cerberus all over again. From his place on the ground he wasn’t able to stand quickly, and so he leaned his shoulders between the encroaching beasts and his frozen daughter.

  “Let’s see if you like this.” He lifted the string of firecrackers in his left hand, flicking the flint of the lighter with his thumb. The wind rustled down the street, catching several soda cans in their wake. The rain spat a little harder. All Ryan could make were sparks, no flame. “Come on, come on.” The dogs edged closer, their hungry attitudes spiraling downward. He flicked the lighter with trembling fingers. “Oh, shit.” His fingers were trembling.

  “Calm down,” a voice echoed in the back of his mind. It was Lillian. “You can do this. You went five days on eight hours sleep in grad school, and in between we partied like there was no tomorrow. When your testing came up at the end of the week, and you were still drunk, you scored a nearly perfect grade. Do what you do to calm yourself and think this through. Remember philosophy class? Time is an illusion.”

  Ryan let the moment roll to a standstill and pulled the emergency brake. He cupped his left hand around his right, letting the fuse hang down towards the lighter. Words, which followed a familiar melody, hissed between his teeth. He began to sing the first verse of “I’ve Got a Dream” from Tangled. His hand steadied and flicked the lighter. His left palm warmed as he heard the hiss of a burning fuse.

  He began tossing the fireworks at the dogs, one after another, singing the chorus, “I’ve got a dream. I’ve got a dream. Something bad for you not me! I’ve got a dream.” The firecrackers landed at the dogs’ feet, crackling and snapping wildly. The dogs jerked their heads side to side, yelping, confused by the loud, unexpected noise. Emily threw her hands over her ears, but Ryan didn’t let up. He added more firecrackers to the mix, his v
oice growing louder and louder until he was singing the song as if his vibrato might scare them off by itself. The dogs were backing off about the time he brandished the roman candles. He stood tall, lighting the first, and aimed it square at the milky-eyed mutt.

  Balls of fire shot out the end of the cardboard tube and clipped the mutt on the face. He shivered and yelped, scrambling away from them.

  “Wizard!” Ryan shouted as the first roman candle went dead. He lit another. “Lesser creatures, feel my wrath!” The dogs tucked tail and ran. The rain started falling harder and his fireworks went out.

  He finished the line of the song featuring Rapunzel, singing of how glad she was to leave her tower, and grinned down at Emily.

  “Let’s go.”

  Emily nodded. “Go, Dada. Go.”

  Chapter 23

  By the time they made it to Stetson’s Pharmacy at the corner of Midland and Delmar, they were soaked to the bone. Ryan hardly remembered passing through the rest of The Loop. He hardly remembered falling face first, scuffing his cheek against the curb of a burned-out house, and nearly ending up in a sink hole when he tried to stand again. He hardly remembered Emily picking up an open butterfly knife that had fallen out of a skeleton’s clothing, taking it away, and chucking it ten times harder than he had Bullwhip Barbie, while holding her tight; and this time not in anger. He hardly remembered shattering the front window of the store, carrying them inside, going back to the pharmacy where he frantically rambled his way through aisles of drugs looking for something of use.

  After several minutes of stumbling through the unlit drug store with only a glow stick found in the toy section, he came across an antibiotic he recognized. He took three, not giving a second thought to a reaction, and led them into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind them. He broke several more sticks, tossed them on the floor, and experimented with some mostly sugar meal replacement bars he found in back. He gave them a sniff and took a bite.