Now, the joke was still on Justin, but it didn’t seem particularly funny, because his father was not coming down those stairs. Suddenly his nerves became too much. Everything that had been building this semester came to a head, a pimple that could no longer remain hidden.
He charged into the living room, the place his father had spent his last months. The couch was stained from weeks and weeks of sweat, as if his mother hadn’t once thought about cleaning it. A stack of magazines and books lay in the corner, the remnants of Bruce’s entertainment before he’d lost consciousness for good. The worst items in the room were the two oxygen tanks. Why the hell were they still there? He’d begged his mother to call the medical supply company so that they’d remove those infernal things. They were constant reminders of what had happened here, two monuments to death. Yet here they were, in the same spot for the last five months.
He grabbed onto the first one and lifted it effortlessly. He remembered struggling with the tanks when they’d first been dropped off, but now they felt as light as pillows.
You really have bulked up but it wasn’t to get girls or for your health. It was to stay sane and it hasn’t quite worked, has it?
He tossed the first tank into the garbage can, ignoring the written warning that reminded him to call for assistance. Then he grabbed the second and repeated the process, slamming on the garbage lid and dusting off his hands for good measure. The smell of coffee drifted into the yard and he thought a cup or five were in order.
When he went back inside, the living room felt slightly less like a tomb.
He wondered when the house would start to feel like a home again.
●●●
Two hours later, Justin shivered in the breeze at the graveyard. The wind had picked up and leaves were strewn about so that it looked like a blizzard of foliage had blown through. There was a pile along his father’s grave, obscuring the soil and covering the spots where grass still hadn’t grown back in and likely wouldn’t until next year.
He opened a bottle of root beer, running his finger along the top to check for cracks, and placed it on top of the stone. He sipped his own soda and belched. It echoed loudly but no one took notice. The place was empty save for an ancient woman across the way. She wept into a handkerchief and cried something in Italian. Justin had chosen German as his language and he was grateful he couldn’t understand the woman’s words.
“Hi, Dad,” he said as he zipped his hoodie up to his neck. The cold had come on too quickly this fall. Time, he was beginning to learn, moved in strange patterns. Sometimes, it sped by so that your fun disappeared in what seemed like seconds. Other times, it moved in sludge-like slowness so that your worst memories, say, for example, your father’s impending death, became a never-ending recurrence.
“I can’t remember if I told you,” he said. “But we’ve got this little problem in Lynnwood. Don’t freak out. Everything’s going to be fine, I think. And don’t worry about Mom. She’s doing okay. Or the best she can at least. See, there are these kids. One day they were normal, smart and popular in most cases, but then they started to change. Their faces got pale and their eyes got dark and pretty soon they were dressing like fucking vampires. Which is why their name is so fitting. The Lynnwood Vampires. Sounds like a bad movie, I know. Except it’s not. Then there’s Alyssa’s new boyfriend, Busty? Also a member. Turns out he’s really gay but he’s pretending otherwise. I think it’s just to get close to her, maybe recruit her into the club. I don’t think she’d go for it, but who the hell knows?”
He rubbed his eyes. The lost hours of sleep were catching up. “And the kicker is that I think they’re dangerous. I think they’re building up to something. Did I mention they’ve taken to beating up teachers and nailing cats to doors? Sounds like one of your sick jokes but it’s the truth and I’m scared as hell. I don’t know what to do and I could really use your advice right about now. You picked a hell of a time to die on me.”
He hadn’t realized until that moment that he was crying. He sniffled and sipped his root beer, trying to cover it up. He looked across the way for the woman but she’d left. He was alone.
Or so he thought until he heard the sound to his left. Leaves crunched and twigs snapped. Something was moving in the woods that bordered the cemetery.
Something?
Probably just a squirrel or rabbit, he thought, but it didn’t sit right in his mind. Without understanding, he knew there was something horrible over there, just out of sight. Something that intended to rip him to shreds with one quick bite of its hideous jaw. Every ounce of his flesh grew cold, the tears on his cheeks like icicles.
The closest tree was fifty yards away. It shook violently, leaves floating away in the wind, revealing bony branches beneath. Whatever shook the tree meant business. He imagined some contorted thing with too many limbs as it closed the distance in less than a second.
A shadow formed on the ground ahead and a shape stepped out of the darkness.
Somehow it was worse than what his mind had conjured. Because it was a reality, something he knew existed, a real-life bogeyman.
Make that bogeyman and bogeywoman.
Two pale faces appeared from the brush. He thought the girl might have been Vickie Bronson but he wasn’t sure. The guy looked familiar too but he couldn’t place the face on account of the less than human features. The vamps watched him, smiles plastered on their synthetic faces. From here the eyeliner made their eyes look like vacant caverns.
He wanted to stand his ground but more than that he wanted to turn around and sprint back to the road where he’d parked. No, he thought. No more running. He straightened himself so that he stood a bit taller. “What the hell are you doing here? Is this your new meeting spot?”
The girl snorted with laughter and the guy rolled his eyes. Neither of them answered.
“You think you can just form your stupid club and expect everyone else to cower in fear? Well, that’s where you’re wrong. No one’s afraid of you. Especially not me.”
That’s where you’re wrong.
He winced and grabbed at his ears. For a moment, it felt like someone had invaded them, another voice traveling into his mind, though he was certain it didn’t belong to the vamps.
We’re coming, Justin. All of us. You’re part of this now, whether or not you intended it.
It was unlike any voice he’d ever heard, low and gravelly and distorted, and it didn’t come from an external source. It originated from within and it was enough to drive him mad. His temples came alive with pressure. He nearly fell at the oncoming wave of dizziness.
Consider this your official warning.
“What does that mean?” he asked as he collapsed to his knees. The voice stopped speaking but it was quickly replaced with another sound, a loud bang or thud that at first resembled fireworks but then morphed into something worse.
A gunshot.
He heard a gunshot, played over and over like a broken record. Then came the screams and panicked pleas.
What was happening to him? Had he lost touch with reality?
He convulsed on the ground, sure that he was having a seizure, until the spell or episode (or whatever the hell it was) passed. The dizziness receded enough so that he could catch his breath and stand, leaning heavily against his father’s stone.
Across the way, the two vamps stood statue still, both of them performing what looked like a mock salute. But the closer he looked, the more he realized it meant something else entirely. As if reading his mind, as if they too had heard the voice and the screams, they held their index fingers against their temples, pointing fake finger guns.
Another strong gust of wind blew through the cemetery. For a moment, the scattering leaves obscured his view. When they cleared, the vamps were gone, replaced by skeletal trees that were getting ready to die for the season.
Chapter Twenty
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Frank said in the teacher’s lounge. He sipped his coffee, taken from the hor
rid beans the school provided. He hadn’t brewed a pot of his own today. To do so would mean spending more time in his classroom and that was the last thing he wanted.
“I shit you not,” Rick McNeil said, holding up his fingers in a mock scout’s honor.
He was listing the latest rumors about the vamps, but recent events considered, they were probably closer to the truth. Those drawings were everywhere, on just about every surface of the school: lockers, floors, chalkboards—even several teachers’ cars had been branded with spray paint, not to mention their tires had been slashed.
“That’s nothing,” Nancy said, biting into a tuna sandwich. The smell made Frank nearly gag. “I had two of them bring in road kill yesterday. A dead raccoon that had been torn apart.”
“What did they do with it?” Rick said. “Nail it to your door?”
She shook her head, a crumb of soggy bread sticking to her lips. “Worse. They walked up and set it on my desk like it was an apple. I kicked the thing into the trash and they ran into the hall laughing their asses off.”
“Let’s not forget,” Frank said. “You’re the one that thought this was all some elaborate joke.”
“He’s right,” Rick said. “Have you finally come over to the dark side? You think this is the real thing yet?”
Nancy swallowed and sipped a diet soda. “What do you mean by the real thing?”
Rick shrugged. “I don’t know but if we don’t do something quick, they’re going to put us in a bad place. I mean, be quiet for a second and listen.”
They all stopped speaking for a moment. Frank’s tinnitus was getting worse with age, the result of too many concerts and not enough ear plugs, but he could still hear the sounds of shouting and laughing and banging. It sounded like anarchy out there.
“By the sounds of it,” Nancy said. “They think they’re running the school.”
“That’s exactly my point.” Rick pulled out a piece of paper from his breast pocket. “That’s why I’ll be handing this to Fisher this afternoon.”
He passed it over and Frank’s eyes widened. It was a resignation letter. “I thought you said you were going to be here until you couldn’t wipe your own ass anymore?”
“Charming,” Nancy said.
Rick sighed. “That was my plan but as you can see…” He pointed to the wall, behind which the vamps were having a field day. “Things have changed. I like enriching the minds of our youth as much as the next guy but it’s not worth it anymore. Not with all this going on. Someone’s going to get hurt and I don’t want to stick around to see it.”
“A little late for that kind of talk,” Murray said. It was the first time he’d spoken. Frank had just about forgotten he was there. The man’s right eye was still swollen shut, the skin a hideous shade of blue and purple. He’d been quieter than usual, ever since Tom Parkins knocked him out.
Probably more than half in the bag this time, Frank thought as he looked at the man’s mug. Whatever cheap whiskey lay within the ceramic was strong enough to put hair on even Nancy’s chest.
“Speaking of which,” Rick said to Murray. “You ought to take a vacation or something. You must be high up on their list.”
“Very funny,” Murray said. He winced, as if talking hurt every inch of his face. “I’ll tell you one thing. I’m not going to back down and it sounds like that’s exactly what you’re doing.”
“That may be true,” Rick said, taking the resignation back and folding it again, “but I’m not the one with a shiner on my face.”
The bell rang in the hall, signaling next period. Frank heard a stampede of footsteps followed by screaming, perhaps even chanting, nothing like normal sounds of teenagers on their way to class. He’d been a teacher long enough to know a fight when he heard it.
Why don’t you turn your head and pretend you can’t hear it, he thought. It wouldn’t be the first time, would it?
He shivered, the room suddenly below freezing. The stress was finally getting to him because for a moment, for just a fraction of a second, his internal voice had not been his own. It belonged to another, one he’d heard last month in his study, from the yearbook that he hadn’t dared to move from its spot on the study carpet.
What’s the matter, Frank? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.
Or worse.
Something touched him and he nearly screamed.
“Jesus, you okay?” Rick said.
Frank rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Then let’s see what’s going on out there. Sounds like a riot to me.”
Though he’d meant it as a joke, Frank didn’t like the analogy. It seemed to close to the truth. Rick opened the door, Nancy and Murray staying back, the latter looking suddenly ill.
In the hall, a group of kids had gathered. About half were dressed in black garb, skin so pale it was nearly blinding. The other half were normal kids, those that hadn’t caught whatever madness was going around. They formed a circle, watching something.
“Come on,” Rick said. “Let’s break it up.”
Frank nodded and they made their way through the crowd, tossing aside students. In the middle of the cluster, they saw exactly what they’d predicted. There was a fight about to break out but the members shocked him.
They were both vamps.
No, that wasn’t right, he realized as he got a closer look. One of them was a true vamp, a mousy looking girl he’d seen around school, though she wasn’t a student of his. She looked sickly like the others.
The other was a burnout. Frank was pretty sure the kid’s name was Evan. He was in Navigator, a program for troubled students Frank thought was mostly bullshit. The kids had shorter classes and days. How was that forcing them to buckle down and do better? If anything, it was allowing them to slack off even more, act tougher.
But today, Evan did not look all that tough. His fists were raised in a boxer’s stance but he shook badly as he stared the girl down. He was dressed similarly to the vamp, black jeans and a black shirt with a skull graphic, but his skin was the color of actual flesh as opposed to bone.
“You guys are pathetic,” Evan said. Frank noticed for the first time the kid’s nose was dripping with blood. “You think just because you start wearing makeup and dressing like us that you’re bad asses?”
The girl smirked and giggled. “There’s more to it than that, silly.”
“The hell does that mean?” There were beads of sweat along his forehead, the drops dripping into his eyes every so often. Frank knew he ought to break the fight up before it escalated anymore but he was frozen in place. Rick had the same look on his face, like he was watching the world’s most peculiar car accident slowly unfold.
“It means we’re not lazy sacks of shit like you and your Navigator buddies.”
“Say that over here.” Evan waved her on.
“So that you can have your nose broken for real this time? Where are they, huh? Where are your Navigator brethren to help you?”
Evan turned away, scanning the crowd. It didn’t look like any Navigators were among the students. “They’re probably out finding more of you to punch in the face.”
“As I recall,” the girl said, “there’s only one person that’s gotten punched in the face and that’s you.” She giggled again. It was high pitched and made Frank squirm. It reminded him of a toy doll’s laugh grown distorted with age.
Behind her, several vamps snickered in tune, a horrible symphony that made Frank want to jog back to the teacher’s lounge and lock the door behind him.
Evan spat blood onto the floor. “Last week, you were a stuck-up bitch who thought she was better than everyone because she got straight A’s. What makes you think you can walk around here like you own the place now?”
There were several mumbles of agreement behind Evan, though they weren’t as loud as the vamps.
“You silly little boy,” the girl said. Frank looked closely and spotted blood on her knuckles from where she’d punched Evan. She brought them to her mo
uth and licked them clean, sighing with refreshment like she’d just taken a sip of soda. “I didn’t have any say in the matter. He only chooses those that are worthy. He likes them smart and stuck up, as you put it, because those are the ones that used to give him grief. You should be more understanding. He wasn’t all that different than you.”
“Who the hell are you talking about?”
She rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll be meeting him soon enough but you won’t become a member like us. He’s got other plans for you. For all of you.”
An image flashed through Frank’s mind. Every teacher and student that wasn’t a vamp had been nailed to front doors, impaled by railroad spikes and bleeding out slowly while those pale faces watched.
“That’s it,” Evan said. “I’ve heard enough. Fuck you and fuck your friends.”
He stopped the boxer routine and moved in quickly, winding back, going low, and bringing his fist up in an uppercut.
The girl took a step back, as if she’d seen the punch coming from miles away.
Evan growled and bared his teeth. He moved in again, his fist colliding with the girl’s face this time. Some part of Frank, no matter how sick, was happy to see the punch land. He was probably going to get canned for not helping sooner anyway. Except the punch seemed to cause no pain in the girl.
Evan, though—he looked plenty pained. He brought his fist back and sucked the wound like he’d just touched a raging fire. The flesh looked puffy, a bruise coming on quickly. Frank wouldn’t be surprised if he’d broken a few knuckles. “What is wrong with you guys? Are you invincible or something?”
Her face turned to a scowl. She grabbed Evan’s neck and threw him to the floor, despite Evan being twice her height and weight. His face grew red with strain, the veins on his forehead bulging like worms beneath the skin.
“You’re finally starting to catch on,” she said as she squeezed harder.
Evan opened his mouth but no words came out. He looked ready to faint.
“Do yourself a favor,” she said, her face nearing his. “Lock your doors. Not that it’ll matter. When the time comes, we’ll find you either way. He doesn’t like anyone that messes with his children. He’s watching this very moment and he never forgets a face.”
We Came Back Page 15