G-157

by K. M. Malloy

  “Rounding the fourth turn its number seventeen, Troy Culver, leading by a nose for first,” the announcer, Brad O’Connor, shouted at breakneck speed into the microphone. “And into the first triple jump number thirteen, Gary Owens, nails the landing and takes the lead from Culver. The two are tied for first, Culver gets the hole-shot on turn five and takes the lead, into the straight away Owens takes first again. They’re coming up to the second triple, Owens gains a half a length on Culver, and into turn six Culver takes the lead again! Ladies and gentlemen we have an epic battle for first going on here in one of the most exciting J.P. races I have ever seen! Tailing Culver and Owens by an incredible ten second lag is Polanski for third, chased by Lanning in fourth, leading by two lengths in front of Amos and Sanders for fifth and sixth. Our pack leaders are approaching the clearing neck and neck for first with a spectacular fifteen second lead! This is motocross at its finest ladies and gentlemen as we watch the wolves fight for the lead of the pack.”

  Troy and Gary emerged from the woods, their front wheels inching back and forth for first place. Aire and Melissa jumped from their seats and threw their fists into the air as the boys drew closer to the finish line.

  “There they are,” they shouted in unison.

  Still neck and neck with the finish line fast approaching, Gary and Troy became more ferocious in their competition as they neared the end of the race. Gary used his massive frame to do everything he could to run Troy off course, and the latter couldn’t afford to make a single mistake.

  It was Gary’s size and more aggressive nature that caused him to falter. He’d been so focused on off-setting Troy that he wasn’t paying attention to a series of ruts in the road ahead. The first dip caused his front tire to shake, and the second set him so off balance that the bike toppled to the ground before he could correct the path. Aire let out a cheer as Troy soared into the lead.

  Troy was in the home stretch now. A good hundred yards straight away loomed ahead of him and he up-shifted to let the bike fly at full throttle. Just before the final jump, he slowed his speed so as not to overshoot it, and sailed through the air for a perfect landing. Aire smiled as she watched what would be his sure victory, until Melissa’s wail screeched in her ear.

  “Yeah! Go Gary!”

  Aire turned to see Gary flying down the straight away. She grabbed Melissa’s hand and shouted as loud as she could. “He has to slow down or he’ll land in the turn.”

  Hands over her mouth, Aire watched in horror as Gary overshot the jump, sailing past the too short straight away after the jump and over the hay bales marking the track. Troy rounded the final turn, Gary’s shadow fast approaching. He saw the shadow just before Gary’s bike flew into him, and dropped his head to avoid the other boy from landing flat on him. He’d turned the wrong way, and the foot peg of Gary’s bike caught Troy’s neck just below the helmet. The impact of the peg ripped Troy from his bike and the helmet from his head as he crashed hard into the far side of the embankment. Gary’s handlebars and front tire snapped off at the awkward angle of the landing as he hit the dirt. His body was catapulted off the track as his bike launched towards the stands and crashed into the safety fence. Aire’s ears were deaf to the screams of the crowd as she ran down the bleachers.

  Pushing past the other spectators and jumping over the fence, Aire sprinted across the dusty field towards Troy. He was sprawled in the dirt on his stomach when she squatted down next to him. Tears filled her eyes when she saw the blood pulsing from the back of his head.

  “Troy,” she said, her voice cracked and uneven.

  He gave a slight groan and rolled over to look at her, a dazed expression on his face. “Aire?”

  She smiled, and a tear slipped down her cheek as she scooped up his shoulders to cradle him. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” His body shook as he sat up and clutched the back of his head. “Gary, how is Gary?”

  Aire peeked over the edge of the embankment where a crowd was gathered. She couldn’t see him, but she could hear Gary calling out numbers and body parts to Dr. Caughlin as the other racers reached the scene and killed their engines. She looked back to Troy and nodded. “He’s beat up, but I think he’ll be okay.”

  “Good. I want water,” Troy said. “Can you grab my helmet? I’m sure someone will pick up my bike for me.”

  “Sure.”

  The helmet rested upside down a good fifteen feet from the track. It’s once shiny orange and black surface was now powdered in dust, and sticky brownish-maroon mud was plastered in sporadic clumps over the eagle design. She could feel the vomit rise in her throat when she was close enough to see a chunk of Troy’s scalp sticking to the back of it where the peg had made contact. She covered her mouth with one hand as she bent down, and reached shakily with the other to pick up the helmet an arm’s length away. She gagged as her fingers pinched around some of the blond hair still connected in the chunk of flesh clinging to the base of the helmet. Swallowing the rising bile, she was about to flick the small pile of human mess to the ground when she saw something glinting inside of it. Distracted from the putridness of it, she pulled it close to her face to examine it. Sticking out of the wad of flesh and hair was a small, tube like piece of metal and glass no larger than a grain of rice. Her fingers wrapped around the tiny thing and pulled it from the hunk of scalp. She flicked the remaining flesh to the ground where it landed with a sick splat in the dirt, sending up a miniature dust cloud around it. She shoved the object into her pocket while pretending to wipe the dirt from the rest of the helmet. She brushed her hands on her jeans as she stood up, and went back to Troy, leaning down so he could throw his arm around her neck.

  “Thanks,” he said, grunting as she helped him up.

  “No problem. Let’s get you looked at.”

  They limped up the hill at a slow pace. Aire’s pocket burned with her new discovery as Troy kept taking worried glances back at Gary.

  ***

  Both Aire and Troy were panting by the time they reached his popup canopy. She helped him sit on a stack of milk crates before she filled up a bowl of water and began wiping away the blood on his face and neck. He winced when she touched the cold rag to the gash on the back of his head.

  “Sorry.”

  It’s alright,” he smiled, but the smile metamorphosized into a tight frown as he squinted his eyes shut from the pain. “Do you think Gary is okay?”

  “Of course,” Aire said as she rummaged through the first aid kit for the hydrogen peroxide. “I mean, he did have a nasty crash, but if it was really serious we’d have heard the ambulance by now.” Troy winced again, this time letting out a grunt as the peroxide bubbled into his flesh. “Sorry.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right. They would have been here by now if he wasn’t okay”

  She made small talk to distract him from the pain as she continued to clean and bandage his scrapes and gashes. She had just finished taping a thick gauze pad around his road rashed knee that was beginning to swell and purple when he tapped her shoulder. “Look.”

  She looked up to see Gary sitting in a wheelchair with his arm wrapped and bandaged in a sling while Melissa pushed him through the maze of tents dotting the field. His little brother Paul and Dr. Caughlin followed behind.

  “You look like you were run over by the trash wagon,” Troy called.

  “I blame you,” Gary laughed, his speech already touched with a hint of slurring as the pain meds Doc had given him began to take effect. “You don’t look so hot yourself.”

  “I blame you,” Troy said, and looked up to Dr. Caughlin. “So what’s the damage, Doc?”

  “Well, the front end we may be able to salvage if we can put in new brakes and fuel lines. He’ll definitely need a new gas tank and throttle cable. Tires need to be replaced and-“

  “No,” Troy interrupted. “I mean Gary.”

  “Oh. Right. Gary,” Dr Caughlin said, and winked at them. “Lots of scratches and bruises, mild concussion, dislocated
elbow, maybe some fractured ribs.”

  “That sounds bad,” Aire said.

  “He’ll be okay,” Caughlin said. “Paul, why don’t you go tell your dad what happened so he can bring his quad and trailer over here? That way poor Melissa doesn’t have to push him all the way home. I know he’s sick as a dog right now, but he’ll be okay to get up for your brother. Make sure you tell him Gary almost won too, that will make him feel better.”

  “Yes, sir,” the boy nodded, and scrambled across the field, dodging revving dirt bikes and wandering toddlers.

  “Now, let’s take a look at you,” he said, turning Troy’s head to take a look at the gash that ran from his scalp to his shoulders. “Looks pretty good. Nothing major but that is going to need some stitches. Do you feel any nausea or dizziness?” Troy shook his head. “Good, no concussion. Your hip is out of place too, but I think a walk down to my office it should pop it back in. Take this pill for pain for now, and after the races I’ll meet you at my practice to get you some more and some antibiotics. Then we can get that sewn up.”

  “Thanks, Doc,” Troy said, taking the chalky white pill from Caughlin.

  “You’re welcome. You should be okay until the end of the day. Aire, you stay with him. Those pills make people a little funny sometimes.”

  “Okay,” Aire said. “Do you think it’s okay for him to wait that long for stitches?”

  “He’s fine,” Caughlin said. “And you,” he said, pointing his finger at Gary, whose eyes were beginning to glaze over. “You need to get home and stay in bed for a few days. Melissa, why don’t you start on your way so you can meet Paul and Mr. Owens a little sooner?”

  “Sure.” She gave Aire and Troy a hug before departing. “Take it easy, Troy. See you both on Monday.”

  “Bye,” Troy called.

  “I’ll be on my way now. Always scrapes and bruises and arms to pop back into place during The Moto.”

  “Bye, Doc,” Aire waved. She grabbed a water bottle from the table and handed it to Troy. “This is all my fault. I knew that jump was too close and should have told them to stop the race.”

  “They wouldn’t have listened,” Troy said, and gulped down the large white pill Caughlin had given him.

  “I know,” she sighed. “Story of my life. Well, do you want to stay and watch the rest of the races or go home?”

  “Let’s stay.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I look worse than I feel, but that pill should take the edge off. And the bleeding from my head stopped thanks to my talented nurse. Might as well see something good today.”

  “Yeah,” Aire said, pursing her lips to hide her disappointment that she’d have to put off her investigation of her new treasure a while longer. She instantly felt guilty for the thought. It was amazing neither had any serious injuries, and for that she should be thankful. She offered Troy her hand and helped pull him up. “Are you sure you can even make it up the bleachers?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I’m fine. Besides, I’m sure someone will let me sit in the front.”

  “True. Well, who should we cheer for?”

  “Anyone not on a Hornet,” he said.

  Aire laughed and helped him limp to the bleachers, feigning excitement for the rest of the afternoon, her thoughts transfixed with the new discovery of the strange thing that had been ripped from Troy.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Monday March 29, 2010

  Population: 404

  It took eleven stitches to close the gash in the back of Troy’s head, which had to be re-stitched the next morning. Instead of resting after the race as Caughlin had ordered, Aire and Troy had gone back to the carnival where a sloppy pitch to knock down some milk bottles tore the bottom two stitches loose. The following Monday the boys were at the pinnacle of popularity as they limped around the campus with their slings and bandages. Both reveled in the attention and never seemed to weary of retelling the same story. Aire smiled as their classmates oohed and ahhed over the dangerous event, but her mind was elsewhere. Her find in Troy’s helmet had her full attention, and she was happy to have the focus away from her so she could think.

  The night after the race, she had walked Troy home for a change, and jogged back to her house. She’d rushed up the stairs to the bathroom and pushed the heavy towel and toiletries shelf in front of the door to keep out any intruders. Reaching into her blood soaked pocket, she pulled out the squishy mass of hair and flesh that had once been Troy’s nape still sticking to the tiny object, and washed it in the sink. Once clean, she held it up to the light for a closer look. The thing had been no larger than a grain of rice and its shape resembled such. Only the ends were metal, and inside the clear tube was a mesh of wires and tiny green squares. If she squinted hard enough and gave it a shake she could see sparks flashing inside.

  Aire sat examining the strange thing for almost an hour before her mother began banging on the door for her to come out. Since she first brought it home she’d inspected it every night under the covers before going to bed. For a full week she did the same routine of getting through school and then rushing back to her house once she got Troy home to examine her new treasure. Never before had she seen anything like it, and with all her pondering still didn’t have any ideas as to what it was or why it had been in Troy’s head. Her intrigue brought her to the library for any clues.

  She spent the entire afternoon pouring over the dusty and bland volumes of books on electricity and mechanics, hoping to find some semblance to the strange thing within the yellowing pages, yet nothing in her readings made any sense as to why the thing would have been lodged under a person’s skin. The sun had painted the sky a deep magenta, and the first glints of stars began to pop through the diming heavens when she finally left empty handed. She clenched at her pocket, staring at the ground on her way home when a voice from behind called to her.

  “Mind if I walk with you?” Troy asked.

  “No,” she shrugged.

  His limp had vanished, and the bruise on his left cheek was beginning to fade from royal blue to a pale pea green. A piece of bandage tape clung to his neck, covering the deep wound on the back of his scalp.

  “Sorry I haven’t really been around for the last couple weeks,” he said. “I don’t want you to think us hanging together for the weekend as a onetime thing.”

  “It’s okay, I know those pills make you sleepy and you still have to keep up with school.”

  “Yeah, I haven’t exactly been doing school work at night though.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her to face him, “I’ve been thinking about you every night.”

  “Really,” she said, her cheeks beginning to flush over her emerging smile. “What about me?”

  “I don’t know a word for it. It’s just that lately whenever I think of you I get all tingly and…weird things start happening.”

  She leaned closer into him. “What kind of weird things?”

  Troy turned his eyes away from her. “It’s embarrassing. Anyway, all I’m trying to say is that I’ve been wanting to spend more time with you, that’s all.”

  A horn honked from a passing ATV as Mrs. Rhodes waved at them as she drove by. Aire looked back to Troy, and smiled at the searching look on his face.

  “Well, I would like to see you more, too. Tell you what, I’m getting together with Melissa in the school library tomorrow at three. Why don’t you come study with us, and then you and I can go out and get some ice cream or something?”

  “That would work.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you then.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  John’s Town

  In the beginning…

  In the beginning it was integral that they all forget those events of the past. If they couldn’t, there’d be no difference between here and there, and the city would be lost. Already a new exodus was beginning after the shooting of Brenda McAllister. They couldn’t forget Ronnie or Richie
or Lucita or Brenda. Not on their own anyway.

  They didn’t have to forget on their own though. That was the key to success, the thing which would make this great new world possible; they didn’t have to forget on their own.

  The idea was very new then. Not the idea itself, really. For centuries man had longed to have the ability to forget a horror in his life, or to wipe away a terrible memory for a loved one. The principle was not new, but the idea of the means of how to achieve it was.

  It was all about electricity then. The brain was nothing more than a super complex conductor, telling arms to move and eyes to blink and language to form and memories to be stored. And like anything electrical in nature, all it took was one blown circuit to cease the current flow and render a piece of the machine useless.

  They couldn’t stand their own brilliance over it. Lords of humanity they were, or so they called themselves as they drank their champagne and reveled in their own genius and simplicity of it all. Why hadn’t they thought of it before? they all wondered. Of course that would be all it took to eradicate a memory from a human mind. Just a couple of fried circuits and the huge messes from the last few years would be erased from the history of John’s Town, like a burned out light bulb leaving a room of a mansion in darkness.

  It never occurred to them that one short circuit could shut down the whole thing, like a missing bulb from a string of Christmas lights.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tuesday April 3, 2010