by MB Mooney
Brian turned to Marcus, smiling. “I can tell we’re going to be great friends.”
Marcus watched his stepfather’s blood cover the floor there in the living room. Brian stood over the dead man. “Now I’ll help you,” Marcus said.
“Excellent!” Brian said gladly. He reached into his coat again, pulling out a long envelope. He handed it over to Marcus. “There are some pictures in there. I need to find that kid. Anything you could tell me about him would be a great help.”
Taking the envelope from Brian, Marcus unfolded the flap and took out the pictures. “Yeah, I know him,” Marcus said. “This is Matt, Matt Walker. These pictures were taken not too long ago.”
“Really?” Brian seemed surprised. “What do you know of this boy?”
“What do you need to know?”
“I just need to find him, have a little discussion with him, but his house was empty. Would you know where Matthew might be?”
Marcus continued to look at the pictures. “Are you going to kill him?”
“Do you have a problem with that?” Brian smiled at him.
“No,” Marcus said. “There’s this guy that Matt hangs out with a lot, and he could be over at his house.”
“Well, do you know where he lives?”
“Sure as hell do.” Marcus pointed to himself and the bandages on his face, the wrapping around his nose. “He’s the jerk who did this to me.”
“Don’t mess with me, Marcus. I am not here to wreak havoc on your enemies. I’m here for my revenge. Now, are you sure that this is where we will find Matt Walker?”
“That’s the only other place I know of besides this house.”
“You must admit, it is quite the coincidence that the boy I’m looking for is friends with the one who beat the shit out of you.”
“Well, he is.”
Brian watched him for a moment. “Okay, we’ll go over there. But the first time that I feel like you’re screwing with me, I’ll kill you, you understand? Nothing personal, it’s just that I’m not really in the mood. And you were right. I’ve killed enough people that one more really won’t matter, to me or the authorities. So just be sure that you’re right about this.”
Marcus knew the complex where Richard lived. Couldn’t be that hard to find once they got there, he thought. “I’m sure.”
Brian nodded. “Fair enough,” he said. “Now, where does this other boy live?”
“He lives in an apartment complex a mile or so back near the school.”
“An apartment complex?” Brian asked no one in particular. He rubbed his chin. “Lot of people in a complex like that. That could prove to be a problem. I have to make a phone call. Wait here.” Brian took his phone from his pocket and dialed a number, walking into the other room. He sauntered back into the dining room where Marcus waited. “Can we make it in five minutes?”
Marcus nodded. “Plenty of time, yeah. But we need to leave soon. My mom will be back in a little while.”
“Okay,” Brian said. “Let’s go.”
-----
The mills were once the major local industry, employing thousands of families. The mills were cumbersome blights upon the Georgia landscape and greenery, but they were the best jobs around for a generation or more. It was cheap labor, but it was a job. And those mills had put food on thousands of tables.
But the textile industry in the South didn’t have the union backing that other industries in the North did. So when better and cheaper options opened up overseas in developing countries, the mills began to shut down. It was a difficult transition. Some grasped an education and moved on. Others were thrown deeper into poverty. African-Americans moved into the city or up North. The poor blacks that stayed became even more dependent on the little social welfare the state provided.
For Vikki and Richard, this was their curse, to love a land they could not always respect. But they learned the harsh realities of life at a young age. One did not need to respect something to love and care for it.
Vikki heard the gravel and dirt crunch underneath her feet. She walked slowly but surely towards the old mill. It had been a grand building once, she was sure. The main building stood alone a mile or two from the heart of town, and long ago, smoke billowed out of the chimneys. It was a big, rectangular box of brick and mortar and wood, now abandoned and overgrown with wild grass and kudzu. The frame shifted a little over the years, and you could hear it groan and sway during times of heavy winds. The windows had been broken long before she was born, and the doors were gone, ripped out but never replaced.
She remembered being a young girl, gazing up at this monstrous building and imagining horrible things. The broken windows were numerous eyes, and the doors were slack and pained maws. Over time she grew up and realized her fears were childish. But here in the dark, perhaps those fears weren’t so childish after all.
Walking into the old mill, she knew every hole and weak spot. She hoped Matt wasn’t hurt, if he was here. She hadn’t seen another car out front. It was a couple miles from Matt’s neighborhood, quite the walk. The cold wind whistled through cracks in the walls. Her ears strained to hear beyond it all.
She moved toward a sound, faint at first. As she neared the noise, it sounded like someone crying. She rounded a pillar in the building to see him there in the moonlight, sitting in a corner, his knees in front of him, arms wrapped around his knees with his face buried in his arms. He shivered despite the dark sweater and jeans. He looked like a little lost boy, orphaned like something out of a Dickens novel. Her heart broke.
-----
Shade sat at the computer when the phone rang. He picked it up. “It’s a cold night. What do you need?”
“It’s time to put plan ‘B’ into action,” the Postman said.
“Are we on a clear line?”
“Yeah, we’re clear.”
“I’m not very good at this sort of thing,” Shade said.
“I set it all up for you. A child could do it. Remember the monkey on the bulldog? You’re more intelligent than that. Type in the password now.”
“What’s the password?”
“Make a wild guess.”
Shade typed in, Postman. The dialogue boxes appeared on the screen of the monitor. “Okay, what next?”
“See the big button at the top of the screen?”
“The one labeled ‘RUN’?”
“That’s the one. Take the mouse and push it.”
Shade moved the mouse on the pad to the right of the keyboard, watching the cursor hover above the button. He pushed the left button on the mouse. The dialogue boxes on the screen disappeared, and the screen went blank. Another box appeared on the screen, a clock counting down from five minutes, with words above it. Shade read it to the Postman over the phone.
“Software loading.”
“Good. That’s it. As long as you don’t touch anything, it should work. Thank you, Mr. Shade.”
“How much longer until you’re finished?”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Shade. It’s over already. Have some faith. It is finished.”
Chapter 17
“I miss the snow,” Matt said, a muffled sound coming into his own ears as Vikki moved closer to him. “I miss the powder that covers everything around, sometimes barricading you in your own home because the snow is just too much. It was like that in Minnesota. God, I loved the snow in Minnesota. It made everything look clean, white. Snow makes even the most despicable cities look wondrous and lovely. It makes everything look cleaner and more beautiful. It hardly ever snows here. The winters in the South just look dirty.”
Vikki still moved closer to him. “You’re shivering.”
“But it’s not that cold. In Chicago, it was cold in the winter, an almost unbearable cold that froze lakes enough to skate on. Here in Georgia, it doesn’t get that cold. The cold here is bearable, which makes it worse. It’s just uncomfortable. Where is the beauty in just being annoying? The dangerous cold of somewhere like ... Albany, Albany, New York, now tha
t was cold. The danger of that cold changes your whole life, your whole existence shapes itself around the cold, but here in Georgia you just get inconvenienced. You might get a day off from school because of a little ice or an inch of snow a year. There’s no adventure or reality in that.”
He looked up into her face now, and he was surprised at her closeness. Her eyes were sad and sympathetic. She touched his arm. “Come on,” she said softly. “Let’s go.”
“You don’t understand,” he said to her.
“Sure I understand. You hate the South.”
“No, that’s not it. That’s not what I’m saying at all ... I … oh, I don’t know what the hell I’m saying anymore. I don’t know what I’m doing or who I am. It’s all just a blur or ... or a dream.”
“You’re Matthew Walker, and you’re sitting here freezing your ass off in an old, dangerous mill in the middle of nowhere. That’s who you are and what you’re doing.”
“Yes. This mill is dangerous. That’s what makes it so great. That’s why Richard loves this place, I think. He knows the beauty in danger. Life deceives you, makes you feel safe, but danger is waiting right around the corner. Always. It’s beautiful, knowing that at any minute it could all be gone, in an instant, one wrong step or unlucky move and you break a leg or arm or die maybe. Safety lies to you. Danger is real. That’s the beauty. It tells you what is real, reminds you that you’re mortal.”
Vikki sighed. “Sounds pretty damn stupid to me.”
“I’m just beginning to realize how isolated and safe my life has been. And what a lie it’s been. But even within that safety, there was a secret, and despite everything, my parents, well, Jim and Alice, they knew that secret and tried to teach me.” Matt’s eyes flashed to her. “But I didn’t learn it very well.”
“What secret?”
“The secret to being safe. You see, the real secret is to stay independent, to not get attached to anything. You have to be able to pick up and go, just go at a moment’s notice, and that makes you able to do it, to move on and not think twice or look back.”
“That doesn’t sound very wonderful. Sounds pretty awful to me.”
“It is, but not why you think. No, it’s awful because if you’re human, if you are a real person, you will inevitably get connected. You will inevitably fall in love and care about the life that you have. It’s not wonderful, no, because you still have to leave.”
“Matt, what’s wrong? What are you talking about?”
“Haven’t you been listening to me? We’re leaving. My ... family and I are moving to Seattle, where winters are really dirty and the clean snow hardly ever visits you.”
It took her a moment to respond. “Seattle? Why?”
“I don’t really know. I couldn’t give you any reasons, because even if I knew, I probably wouldn’t believe it myself.”
Vikki reached out and rubbed his arms with both of her hands, soft hands, and gentle touch. “Come on,” she said. “You’re scaring me. You’re shivering and saying things I don’t understand.”
“I don’t want to go home,” he said.
“Then you don’t have to. Just come and get in the car with me. It’s warm. I left it running.”
Matt looked up into her eyes. The tears were still cold on his face. “Okay,” he said. She led him to a standing position.
“Follow me,” she said, taking his hand. “Try to step where I do, and be careful.”
“Okay.” He stepped carefully on the same boards and in the same places that she did, hearing the groans and pops of the wood. The flashes of moonlight through the cracks in the walls made him blink. She led him like a child through the large pillars and out the front entryway. He watched her long, blond hair sway in the dry winter air, the static making some of it stand out a little.
They walked together across the dirt and gravel towards her car. The doors were open, and he sat in the passenger seat, curling up and rubbing his hands together. She had been right. It was warm in the car, a good feeling compared to the hard, cold wood on the floor of the mill. She was next to him soon, looking over at him, rubbing her hands as well.
“You okay?” she said.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll be okay.”
“You’ll warm up in a minute. Just wait a little bit.”
“I know.” They looked at each other for a moment, he curled up in the passenger seat, clinging to the door, almost in a fetal position, she leaning over him, her beautiful eyes and lips captivating him as they usually did, and he almost forgot about Kalil and the people he believed to be his parents and Richard and life and death and the whole mess of things that swirled in his mind, confusing and debilitating him.
“So,” she said. “What’s this you’re saying about moving?”
“My ... parents told me tonight that we are leaving this weekend. I’m supposed to be on a plane in the morning with my mother.”
“In the morning?”
Matt started at the rising tone of her voice. “Yes, on a plane to Seattle.”
Her voice softened. “Oh, Matt, I don’t ... why so quick?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Well, we’ve got all the time in the world.” And she said it like she believed it, and Matt thought that maybe she did.
His body was warmer now. “I’m going to tell you something that I’ve never told anyone before,” he said. “And I want you to just listen and then you can think I’m crazy or whatever, but just listen, okay?”
Her brow creased. “Okay,” she said.
“Ever since I was little, I mean real little, I never thought that I was ... right, you know? I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like I always knew that I was different. And the older I got, the more I felt that way. And I know what you’re thinking. Everybody feels a little different. But I’ve read the psychology and the philosophy of the identity crisis, and that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m not saying that I felt different in an identity sense, I felt different on a basic level, on a ...” And he stopped there, thinking, rolling his eyes, desperate for the word. He found it. “On a spiritual level.”
This shocked her. “Spiritual?”
“Yes, listen. Maybe it’s not spiritual, maybe it’s something else, molecular or genetic. You know how some people who are gay say that they just knew they were different from others somehow, like they knew at an early age? Well, for me it’s not sexual or even ... material in any real sense. It’s like something around me and a part of me that I can’t control. I look human and act human, but I don’t feel human.”
This did not shock her; it confused her. “Human? How can you not feel human?”
“That’s what I’m trying to say. I don’t know what it is or what happened to me, but I feel so different, that what people consider human, I don’t think that explains me.”
“Matt, listen, maybe we need to take you to a hospital or something. I didn’t think it was that cold, but ...”
“Look, I’m not crazy or suffering from hypothermia or anything. I know it sounds weird, like, really strange, but I’m saying this out loud for the first time, finding the words for it for the first time. And I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but this is how I’ve always felt. And tonight, when I most needed my parents to tell me that this was all my imagination, that I was crazy, they practically admitted to me something that just reinforced my fears.”
“What?”
“That they aren’t my real parents at all. And we’ve moved around my whole life as a part of something that I don’t know about or understand, either. They ... adopted me in a way, take care of me. And it’s time to move again, like we’re running. Yeah, that’s it, like we’re running from someone or something.”
“But, wait, if you’re not human, as you feel, what are you?”
He leaned back against the seat of the car, exasperated and exhausted. “I don’t know. I don’t have any clue. But I think that if I get on that plane tomorrow, I’ll know. I’ll find out. They’ll final
ly tell me. And that scares the living hell out of me, to know the truth. A part of me would rather wonder and lie, deceive, cheat myself of the truth. I’ve done it my whole life. I like it better that way.
“But another part of me, maybe the one that matters, it wants to know. I do want to know what I am, really.”
She leaned closer to him. Her hand reached up behind his head, ruffling his hair there before resting on his neck. “What am I going to do with you?” she said, and he saw the sadness in her eyes. Was it sadness because he was leaving tomorrow or pity that she didn’t believe a word of what he said to her? He searched her heart, her eyes, the countenance of her feelings as he knew he could, and he found that it was a little of both. “Are you really leaving tomorrow?”
“I think I have to. I don’t think I have a choice.” He felt her warmth close to him, the basic heat of her body, but it was something he had never felt before. He reached out himself and touched her arm, gently, softly touched the arm that reached out and touched him. “But I don’t want to. You really don’t know how much I want to stay.” He shook his head, looking into her eyes. “God, I want to stay.”
Vikki began to cry, the tears falling on her cheeks when she blinked. “How much?”
And he thought that he would show her. He didn’t know if he could, but he thought that if he could push with his heart, like he had done before to convince people, could he just communicate with them, just let them feel what was in his heart? He didn’t know, but he tried. He closed his eyes and pushed with his heart how deeply he cared for her and wanted to stay.
Her eyes fluttered and the grip at the nape of his neck stiffened. A gasp escaped her throat. “Oh, Matt,” she said. “Who are you that you can do this to me?”
“I don’t know,” he whispered, she was that close now. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head drowsily. “Don’t be. It doesn’t matter.” And with her eyes closed, she bent over and kissed him. It was a clumsy kiss at first, brushing across his lips and then finding them. His eyes were closed again, as well, and he reached out with his other hand and found her face, the warm tears now damp upon her face, that beautiful face that could take his mind off of all else.