by Glen Krisch
Gabe thought about it for a minute, then said, "Come on, Maury, I'm not that good." Gabe dog paddled across the water. Maury still hadn't ventured into the pool. He was too distracted. While his body was at the pool, his legs dangling in the water, his mind was in the second floor bedroom he shared with Gabe, focusing on the footlocker at the end of their bunk beds. He listened for a scream in case Eliza opened the locker and found what they had hidden.
"What are we going to do with Junior?" Gabe asked.
"I don't know." Maury didn't know what they were going to do with the pint-sized Gabe. At least the dream didn't talk as much as Gabe. They would without a doubt get in trouble otherwise.
"I'm gonna take Junior in for show and tell when school starts," Gabe said, climbing from the pool. He was measuring another dive, not yet sure which aerial acrobatics to perform next.
"Gabe, what did I say? Not a word to anyone. I mean it. We can get in some serious trouble. I mean, go-to-jail type trouble."
"Fine. Our secret. Can we can go and play soldiers with him like last night?" He wondered if Gabe had enough sense to keep his mouth shut. He guessed not.
"Not now. That would look suspicious to Eliza. We have to stay outside, in the pool. We can't open the locker until we're supposed to be in bed, until long after we're supposed to be asleep."
"Fine." Gabe gave him a dour look. He did a herky-jerky waving of his arms and legs, and when he hit the water, a wave splashed Maury's dry t-shirt.
Maury shook his head. Letting Gabe know about his abilities was probably a mistake. It would be impossible for him to keep quiet. Then Maury's chance at having a happy family would be over. And his hopes of going to college. They would take him away. Experiment on him. Try to figure him out so they could exploit him. The government always did things like that. Like the aliens at Roswell, or the X-Men, or any of the other things they kept from the public. Maury didn't want to be a guinea pig. He just wanted a family.
"Hey, Maury?"
"Yeah, Gabe?"
"I got a secret." Gabe climbed from the pool. Water dripped from his trunks like rain.
"Well, then keep it to yourself, like we talked about."
"Not that secret. Another one. One about Mom and Dad." Gabe stood with his toes overhanging the edge of the pool. His skin was red where it had repeatedly slapped the surface of the water.
"Can you tell me?" Maury was legitimately curious. He didn't know much about the Ungers yet, but he definitely wanted to know what he was getting himself into.
"No. It's secret. They don't even know I heard."
"Come on, Gabe. I wanna know."
Gabe lined up his next dive, swinging his arms gently at his sides, as if building momentum. "Only if you promise."
"Promise what?"
"We go see Junior after I tell you. I just want to see if he's okay. Maybe he can't breathe in that footlocker."
"Fine. What is it?"
Gabe moved his arms faster and faster, but before he jumped, he looked at Maury. "The Ungers fought some other couple for you. They wanna fix you up like they're gonna fix me up. The other couple only wanted more money from the state for taking 'nother kid. I heard Dad tell Mom he would'a done anything to get that 'crispy critter.'"
Gabe jumped high into the air, straight up, and at the high point of his dive, his head went straight down. His skull broke the surface of the water, and with his trajectory into the four feet of water, he forcefully hit the bottom of the pool. He gave off a cloud of bubbles as his lungs released their air.
Maury saw none of this. He was staring at the house, at the windows, to where his foster mom was washing his clothes. Just when he thought he might like his new family, he instantly hated them.
The bubbles of air from Gabe's lungs popped at the surface. Maury turned to see Gabe floating two feet below the surface, no movement to his limbs.
"Eliza!" Maury screamed as he jumped into the water feet first, one of his flip flops flying off wildly. He paddle-walked through the sluggish water to Gabe's prone body. "Gabe. Gabe, come on." Maury lifted his foster brother's head from the water. "Eliza!"
A wicked thought flashed through his head: What the fuck? Why does shit always happen to me?
He latched on to Gabe's shoulders, trying to pull him to the metal deck, but the boy was slim, his skin slick with water and sunscreen. Gabe slipped below the surface, and he didn't fight the water covering his face, invading his nostrils.
"Damn it, Gabe!"
Maury lifted Gabe's face above the water. When the water drained from his open eyelids, blood seeped from the corner of his left eye, a pink stain coating his iris. A wave of chlorinated water splashed across his face, cleaning his bare eyeball of the blood. Gabe still didn't move.
Adrenaline must have been pumping hard for Maury to be able to lift both Gabe and himself onto the deck. He felt like his comic hero, The Hulk--enraged, anger clouding his mind and giving him strength. He tilted the boy's head back, pushed aside his tongue and blew a lungful of air into his lungs.
"Eliza! It's Gabe. He's hurt. Hurt bad. Eliza!" Maury shouted, somehow able to count chest compressions.
Something clicked inside Maury's head. An epiphany. The next gust of breath he blew, he blew against the outside of Gabe's cheek. He started chest compressions again, keeping an eye on the house. "Mom! Please Mom, you have to help!" Maury cried. The chlorine of the pool made it easier to cry.
Eliza Unger threw open the back door and ran down the curving concrete walkway. She had grabbed a cordless phone on her way out and was yelling at a 911 dispatcher. "Hold on a sec," she shouted into the phone, mounting the metal steps. Then to Maury, "What happened? Did he dive? Move, move out the way damn it!" Eliza pushed Maury away, and he teetered on unsteady feet, almost falling into the pool.
"I don't know what happened. I went to get the beach ball… I turned when I heard the splash… he was floating, not moving… I don't know…" Maury playacted next to Eliza as she repeated the CPR steps. He paced across the metal deck, his clothes soaked, his hands fumbling through the air as if in uncontrollable frustration. Eliza didn't see the smirk on his face. She was too busy trying to save a life that was already gone.
Later on, while a paramedic climbed on top of Gabe to continue CPR, Maury snuck off to their bedroom. He opened the footlocker at the end of their bunkbeds. It was empty, just as he suspected. He grabbed a couple of towels from the bathroom before leaving the house. He draped one over his shoulders and wrapped one around Eliza as they climbed into the back of the ambulance. The siren soared through the quiet suburban afternoon. Maury put his arm around Eliza's shoulders. He cried against her shoulder, whispering into her ear, "Mom, I don't know what happened. I never should have left him alone… never should have left… never should have…"
Chapter 12
On the wall at the top of the curving stairwell, a billboard in simple block letters spoke volumes about what waited inside the Nightmare Wing for unlearned museum patrons:
PLEASE DON'T PESTER THE DREAMS. TO AVOID POSSIBLE DANGER--DON'T LEAN ON THE GLASS ENCLOSURES.
Nolan Gage watched as some people scoffed at the ominous warnings before they entered the Nightmare Wing. From the looks on their faces, most people exiting had gained a measurable amount of respect for whomever printed the signage.
God, this place is an all-out madhouse, Gage mused as he pushed through the crowd. It was Lucidity's opening night, and the people had started lining up outside the doors of the old Carnegie Library shortly after lunchtime.
He walked down the curving steps, hearing gasps of shock and revulsion coming from the Nightmare Wing behind him. The upstairs attractions had the longest lines, but the whole museum was packed to the gills. They decided to allow full access to the media, and anyone else who wanted to bring cameras inside, at least for the night. The more free publicity they could get, the better. What better publicity than the media and word of mouth kind? He felt winded by the time he reached the ground floor and approached
the concessions' area. They had six people working the counter tonight. They were moving around like chickens with their heads cut off, and all the while, taking in money hand over fist.
Gage leaned over the counter to speak to his floor manager. "Hey, Peter, how are things going?"
Peter looked up as he finished bagging a t-shirt for a young girl. He worked his way over to speak to his boss. "It's crazy busy Mr. Gage, but you hired the right people. We're doing fine. We're low on singles, and the popcorn machine can't keep up." He didn't look frazzled one bit. He actually seemed to be enjoying himself, totally in his own element, even with customers surrounding concessions' island four deep.
"Thanks, Pete. I'll make sure you guys get more singles. Just make sure your people get their breaks. I want to make sure they come back tomorrow."
"Oh, I will." Peter turned to take someone's order, and Gage slipped away, making a mental note to bring them more singles. Needing more singles was a good sign for a business. It meant people were turning over big bills and only getting small bills in return. So far, it was the best opening of any of his businesses.
Gage floated through the crowd, simply observing. He watched for people's expressions, watched their body language. This was how he did business. Through body language he could reasonably tell if a business model was going to work, even this early into the ballgame. The customers' voices filled the open foyer as they shared their thoughts on the displayed dreams. They held hands, or tapped each other on the shoulder to grab their attention. Lucidity had its fill of the take a look at this quotient. People were laughing in awe. People looked terrified.
"I don't know how we pulled this off," someone said from behind Gage. When he turned, he saw Maury Bennett, wearing a new tailored suit (a suit that Gage had happily paid for), and his omnipresent Cubs baseball cap. For some reason, the hat didn't look out of place at all.
"I've been meaning to thank you, Maury." Gage offered his hand. In mid-shake Gage drew Maury in for a back-patting man hug. When he looked at Maury, his dream catcher looked entirely uncomfortable.
"Oh, it was going to work. All of these people, I bet it's the tip of the iceberg," Maury said, shifting from foot to foot. "No way this wasn't going to work."
"That's not what I meant. All of this," Gage said waving his hand over his head, "This is just the icing. I'm talking about Nika. What you've done so far has been remarkable, and I have a feeling it's going to happen any day. You will bring me back my daughter." He could feel tears forming in his eyes, but he wasn't sad at all. He couldn't remember a happier time since before Michelle left him so long ago.
"Mr. Gage… it's my job."
Maury didn't take praise well, but Gage had to let him know how he felt. "Your job stems from your powerful gift. Without your gift, there would be none of this. Or any hope for my daughter. I feel I owe you more than the money I've given you. I just wanted to let you know that if it's in your heart to leave your practice, you will always have a job with me. Even if you want to sit on the side of the road and count cars all day, I owe it to you to let you do what you wish," Gage said.
"But..." Maury said, stammering. He too had tears in his eyes, and all he could do was clench his lips and nod. "Okay. I'd like that."
"Excellent! We have an agreement. Just let me know what your intentions are. I'll get you whatever you need."
Maury kept on nodding, his face bunched like he had swallowed something unsavory. He kept nodding, even after Gage turned and left.
Gage had expected such a reaction from Maury. Most people thought he was an odd sort, but Gage was starting to figure out what made him tick.
The line leading to the Nightmare Wing hadn't slowed one bit, and he could hear cries coming from the patrons upstairs. He thought of the possibility of having a Nightmare-only themed attraction, and took a mental note to investigate the potential of such a business. While taking his mental note, he remembered that Peter from concessions needed singles. Gage meandered through the crowd to the elevator at the back of the foyer. He pushed the button for the basement, where he had his vault--a vault he knew would be full by night's end.
For the first hour, when the humans entered the Nightmare Wing to gawped at Mr. Freakshow, he gave them what they expected. He slit his stomach with a claw and snaked his intestines through the narrow opening, his face contorted in misery. He masticated his own flesh, and then carved himself with rusty dream-blades. He tore off his jawbone and used it to gouge his eyes. The filthy humans ooh'd and aah'd. He was delighted to see one young woman brace herself from vomiting as she hurried away. But everyone else stayed right where they stood. They only pressed closer to his confining cage, fighting for position to get a better look at him. He obviously couldn't shock these pests into leaving him be.
Then he came up with an idea to get rid of them. The idea was simple, but he would need time to observe his quarry. The thought made him sick, but he would need to look into the minds of these insidious beasts and learn what dark thoughts lurked inside. He created a throne on which to sit and observe--a replica of the throne he would assemble once free of this infernal containment. He ran his hand over the curves and nooks of his creation. A thin slime of blood coated the stacked skulls that made up the throne. As he sat down, the bones accepted his weight and he couldn't imagine a more luxurious place to observe. He sat in an arrogant pose with one leg draped over an armrest. He rubbed his chin contemplatively, starting to probe the minds of these sick fucks.
After awhile, a good long while, a small segment of the crowd had dispersed, apparently bored. But Mr. Freakshow was ready to perform. The crowd stirred as he rose from his throne. He waved his hand from floor to ceiling to floor again, and as he moved, a partition formed, separating him from his onlookers. He could see through the partition in a gray tint, and seeing the humans, he found them slightly more palatable to the eye. The gray, gauzy obstruction made them seem like dead things. The Freak smiled.
While the Freak could see them, the humans couldn't see beyond the partition. What they were looking at, or into rather, was the silvery sheen of a full-length mirror. Mr. Freakshow had turned the tables on these sick fucks. As they turned to look at one another, confused, and then back to the mysterious mirror, they had no idea the fun was about to begin.
"I talked to Maury like I said I would," Gage said to Nika while holding and stroking her hand. He had the habit of talking to his daughter as if she could hear him. When he first started doing it, he was self-conscious and couldn't stand to hear his own voice holding down a one-sided conversation. It sounded hollow, false. But he became accustomed to it and soon he was pausing intermittently during his rambling, as if she would respond. He kept thinking, maybe this time, maybe right now she's going to speak, to wake up. This very instant. Of course, she never acknowledged her father, but after awhile, he found he needed his one sided conversations. They solidified his sense of hope. As he lost his self-consciousness, he opened up to Nika for the first time. If only she could hear. He talked to her about his life and his hopes and aspirations. His views on politics and religion. He had to believe that somewhere deep inside she heard his voice. Otherwise, he was just a crazy old man speaking to himself, and he didn't want to concede that as fact.
"Maury accepted my offer like I figured he would. I could always tell he never enjoyed his practice. You need to have a certain amount of self-confidence in order to listen to other people's problems, and then even more self-confidence to offer suggestions on how to fix them. You need to project security, and I'm afraid, Maury projects a solid wall of insecurity even to people he knows fairly well."
Tonight, he didn't bring out her dreams. He wasn't in the mood to see the playful, energetic dream-throng. All he wanted was to be right here, right now, holding his daughter's hand, telling her everything about his life. He wanted her all to himself.
"I think the museum is going to work. We still have lines outside the door, and it's a younger crowd than I envisioned. But you know w
hat they say--target that young demo. You hook them now, you have them for life. And it's all because of you, my sweet daughter." Gage leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead.
As soon as his lips left her skin, he felt a discernible twitch from her hand. Initially, he didn't realize what had just happened. He could only look down at her hand in amazement. Yes, he had definitely felt a twitch. A twitch coming from his daughter's hand.
"Nika… can you hear me? Nika!" he said, patting her hand, trying to get her to repeat that slightest movement that he had almost dismissed as nothing. But if she did it again… If only… if only.
"Please, Nika, move… do the slightest little... anything. Do something to let me know I'm not going crazy," he pleaded. As the seconds ticked away, he began to doubt what he had felt. It could have been a phantom twitch amounting to nothing. "Nika, please… I'm so lonely. I have nobody…" he said, pulling her hands to his lips and kissing them as tears filled his eyes and spilled down through his beard. At her bedside, he collapsed to a kneeling position, as if in prayer. Resting his head on his daughter's withered stomach, still clutching her hand, Nolan Gage sobbed. "Please…"
Through his anguish and tears, through the memories of his once happy family saturating his mind, Nika's hand flexed, squeezing Gage's hand in a fierce grip. As quickly as his tears appeared, they halted their advance as he lifted his head to look at her. Her face was unchanged, but oh dear God his daughter squeezed his hand! As if in confirmation, she did it again, her grip so strong it would have normally buckled his knees.
"Nika! You can hear me, can't you? You know it's me, your father. I can't believe this. I have to call the doctor, I have to tell someone--"
The shrill cry of the fire alarm temporarily dulled his excitement.
Of all the things… why now?
He looked at the door and then back at his daughter and realized, that even if it was the apocalypse, if the ceiling should collapse in a heap of burning cinders, he couldn't imagine being anywhere else. With the excitement of the crowd upstairs, it was probably a false alarm. Some punk kid showing off to his friends. If the alarm didn't stop soon, he would leave to investigate, but not yet. Not when Nika had just squeezed his hand. As the fire alarm continued to blare, he held his daughter's hand, waiting for that pristine and magical moment when Nika would open her eyes and look into his.