Out of Salem

by Hal Schrieve

  Elaine punched the chain-link fence around the dump-sters and screamed unintelligibly. Her arms flailed above her head and Aysel saw that she was cutting her knuckles on the fence. Blood was dripping down her hands. Elaine threw more and more of her body into punching the fence until finally she slipped on the gravel and fell over.

  “Do you want a doughnut?” Aysel asked Elaine.

  Elaine made a very forced-looking smile and said that that would be great. They went in. The old couple rotated their heads to look at them.

  “An old-fashioned glazed doughnut,” Aysel said, “and a coffee.”

  “And a maple bar and another coffee,” Elaine said. Aysel noticed she was making her voice higher than it usually was.

  The man smiled at them both, a little uncertainly. Aysel brushed her hair out of her eyes and searched through her pockets for a scrunchie. She looked younger if she pulled her hair back, and she felt she needed to appear innocent. The man put the doughnuts and coffee on the counter. Aysel paid. Elaine had left the credit card she had been using somewhere in the house. They sat in a window and looked out at the street.

  “My mom thinks I’m at Z’s house,” Aysel said. “I said she could pick me up from there, that I’d call her. I don’t even know where Z is.”

  “Z got away, I’m pretty sure,” Elaine said with a certainty that was convincing if you didn’t look her in the eye. Elaine was very good at avoiding eye contact.

  “What time is it, even?”

  “I don’t know. Not past like, eight thirty, though. Maybe. It isn’t that late.”

  “Late for me to be out.” Aysel ate at the edge of the doughnut and thought about the fact that she’d eaten two yesterday too. Whatever. The police were trying to kill her. She could eat as many as she wanted. She felt a deep anxiety and knew that Elaine could see it in her face.

  “Look,” Elaine said, “I don’t think they’re gonna go after Z. They have like thirteen to twenty werewolves in that house that they’re going to arrest or shoot. That’s what they’re going to be focusing on.”

  Aysel looked at Elaine and felt the tears coming to her eyes again.

  They walked, slowly, in the direction of Mrs. Dunnigan’s. There wasn’t anything else to do, after all. Aysel had sniffed several times and managed to not start crying again. She touched her face again and again, though. The night wind was picking up and the new little buds that were appearing on some of the trees wavered against a dark blue-black clouded sky in the light of the streetlamps.

  “You know, when I first came out as a young transsexual or whatever, Chad was the first person I felt comfortable talking to about it,” Elaine said to a puddle a little ways ahead of them.

  Aysel looked over at Elaine. She didn’t know what to say. “Yeah,” she said monotonously.

  “He’s trans too,” Elaine said. “Which made me feel kind of safe. We were both in like, Oklahoma City and hanging out at this drag bar that let teenagers in sometimes, and someone who worked there was letting us sleep in the dressing room. And we just started talking to each other about stuff. All the transgender people we’d met before then were like these older people who were really careful and scared and wanted to be respectable, and who could be respectable.”

  “So you’re like . . . a transsexual. I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have known. You’re so . . .” Aysel stopped short of saying pretty. Elaine looked over at her and Aysel felt the devastating heat of her eyes. She could tell that Elaine thought of her as just a kid.

  “I actually have a shirt that says ‘Nobody Knows I’m a Transsexual,’ but I forgot to wear it when we went to the movies,” Elaine said. She had an edge in her voice.

  “How did you know? Like, how did Chad know? Instead of just being gay,” Aysel said. “I mean. I guess you’re gay too, sorry. I mean how did you know?”

  “We’d seen some talk shows.” Elaine grinned, her face still tense and tears still on her cheeks. Aysel knew she was making fun of her.

  “Oh,” Aysel said.

  “After I got out of the hospital and hit the road, I’d been couch-surfing in cities and been to a couple groups for transsexual women who were all in their thirties and like, voted for Bush. Also it was like Iowa so they were all white. They were getting potion treatments and magical alterations and had their driver’s licenses all nice. They all thought I was really lucky to be transitioning so young. Which was ridiculous because I wasn’t ever gonna be able to live normally. I hated them. Which is dumb. But Chad and I found each other, and realized we were both wolves, and I told him I was transsexual, and he told me he was a guy, and everything totally made sense.”

  “Yeah,” Aysel said in the same sort of monotone she had used before. “You seem really close.”

  “Like, there’s stuff I’ll never understand about him, and stuff I’m never telling him about me. But we’ve been through a lot together. We’ve kept each other out of a lot of bad shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s always been really dumb when it comes to police,” Elaine said. “Which isn’t to say I don’t think a change of government would be nice, but he’s into the spray-painting, the yelling, the believing in revolution that is actually gonna work. All of that kind of stuff. He’s been in protests and stuff and gotten arrested, and half the time he’s been like, high or whatever. I’m like, God, you’re gonna get yourself killed, you asshole, and if they take you alive they’ll put you in a women’s prison probably, and he’s like, whatever, let’s light a dumpster on fire, I’m an idiot.” She was looking at the sky now, and talking really loudly. She made to walk straight across the road when Aysel knew they had to turn, and Aysel gestured to try to get her attention.

  “I bet he’s fine,” Aysel said. Her voice lacked conviction.

  “I hope so,” Elaine said, laughing. Her voice caught in her throat and she shivered. “I love him so much. Chad’s such an ass.” She shut her eyes. Aysel knew that she had heard the shot, too, and that she was under no illusions about the likelihood of Chad being fine.

  “Z and I are like that,” Aysel said. She regretted it at once. She was out of her depth.

  “Really?”

  “Not really. I mean, it’s not the same thing. But Z isn’t a boy or a girl. They say they’re genderqueer. And I’m gay, and we’re the only two in our school who are monsters. And I knew I had to stick with them and then we became friends.” Aysel paused. “And I’d like, I’d die for Z.”

  “No, yeah,” Elaine said, putting her arm around Aysel for a second and giving her a kind of half-hug. “That’s what it is, what I’m talking about. You’re on it.”

  “I love Z,” Aysel said suddenly, quietly, surprising herself. She looked at Elaine.

  “I understand,” Elaine said.

  “Not like, you know. I just really really want them to be all right. They’re like, the first person who’s meant something to me in a really long time. They’re really cool.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m really worried they’re dead. And for you, too— I’m worried Chad’s . . .” Aysel trailed off.

  “Yeah,” Elaine said. “It would be really nice if that all hadn’t happened back there.”

  Aysel felt a shiver run through her seeing the way Elaine’s face was set. She looked tired and bleak and old.

  They were nearing Mrs. Dunnigan’s. The street was dark except for the light above the bus stop. There was a cold bleakness to everything. Aysel and Elaine went and sat out in front of the building, looking out into the dark together.

  Suddenly something in the dark moved. Aysel’s heart leapt as something that had looked like the shadow of a tree moved and became a humanoid dark shape. It moved slowly, limping slightly. Aysel jumped up from the cold curb. Next to her, Elaine started up and jumped to her feet.

  “Aysel,” the dark shape rasped, “you’re okay!”

  “Z!” Aysel ran forward and hugged Z. Z’s skin was cold and clammy and damp. “You’re okay, too.”

  �
��You don’t have any cops following you, do you?” Elaine asked, looking down the street in both directions. She had jammed her hands in her pockets.

  “No,” Z said. “I was hoping to get them to follow me by scaring everyone at the window, but the two in the car who came after me couldn’t see me in the dark or something.”

  “Night vision detects heat,” Elaine said. “You’re cold.”

  “That makes sense,” Aysel said. “God, Z, are you all right?”

  “I’m as okay as I’ll ever be. What happened? How did you get out? Did other people get out?”

  “We don’t know,” Elaine said. “They were there because they were investigating the terrorist werewolf group that was behind the death of Archie Pagan. I don’t think they were planning on letting anyone go.”

  “A couple people got out,” Aysel said.

  “God, I hope so,” Elaine said. She balled up her hands into fists and kneaded at the edges of her eyes.

  “I hope so too,” Z said. They were shaking.

  Z had the key on them. Once inside they all took off their muddy shoes and stood there for a moment, looking at one another. Z realized all the cats were still missing. The radiators were cold.

  “I’ll make like, tea,” Z said. They looked over their shoulder. “You can both stay the night. I think we’ll be safe here.”

  “Where’s Mrs. Dunnigan?” Aysel asked. “It seems like it’s too early for her to be asleep.”

  Z turned away. “She had to leave.”

  “Like, on a trip?”

  “No, she left for good. She’s a selkie. Someone sent her her skin in the mail today. The people who ransacked the bookstore after the rally took it from there, and then sent it back to her. It had been hidden in the attic from when her wife was alive.”

  “Holy shit,” Elaine said.

  “Yeah. I mean, she didn’t have a choice. If a selkie knows where their skin is, you know, they gotta . . . go. It happened earlier. I didn’t tell you because it’s kind of a shock.”

  “No kidding,” Elaine said.

  “I mean, it’s just one more thing that fell apart,” Z said. “But it’s whatever. At least she’s like, going to be happier there maybe. If there are no oil spills.”

  The coil under the kettle rattled with the heat. Elaine and Aysel watched it. Z was staring out the window. Aysel felt a horror at the idea of Z in the place alone. At least I don’t have to think about that tonight, since Elaine will stay here, she thought.

  “I should call my mom,” she said.

  15

  The news carried the story before eleven thirty. Z had left the TV on and had not slept—they wondered if it might have been a onetime event—and Elaine did not seem to have slept either, though she had remained motionless on the couch, facedown into the cushion almost from the time she came in the door. She spun around so fast when the news came on that she became tangled in her blankets and nearly fell to the floor. Z looked at her worriedly. They didn’t know Elaine, and didn’t know if they liked her, and here she was on their couch looking like she was about to cry. Z turned their attention to the news story. None of the werewolves were identified, but the anchorwoman (pink jacket) told the anchorman (bald spot) that fifteen werewolves had been taken into police custody and that three had been shot and were now dead. The raid was being saluted, at this early hour, as part of Charles Salt Sr.’s new police program to end monster violence in the city.

  “Chad,” Elaine mouthed. Then, louder, “Chad. They mean Chad. And two others. Jesus. He died trying to save us.”

  “Maybe not.”

  “Three dead. It’s someone. And they were shooting at Chad.”

  “No,” Z said. Elaine looked over at them. They didn’t feel like explaining.

  The anchorwoman said that the discovery of the terrorist organization raised more questions than it answered, and that the police investigation and a state of emergency would continue until it was determined what role the group had played in Archie Pagan’s death and the assault on Ron Hardeback. In the interim, all werewolves in custody of the state would be interrogated and all registered werewolves within traveling distance of the city of Salem would have their records examined. Travel out of the state was prohibited for werewolves—which was usual—and for all members of a werewolf’s family. Reporters were up late to cover the story, and looked visibly shaken and tired.

  Elaine chewed at her lip until it bled.

  “Chad’s dead,” she said. “They mean Chad.”

  Z looked around. “No.”

  “He was there and they were shooting and he was a dumb fucking asshole and he’s dead.”

  Chad was dead. He was here and then he was dead. He was here he was here he was here.

  At about one in the morning, there was a knock on the door. Aysel and Elaine started, and went to hide in the bed-room. Z braced for it to be the police, but it was Tommy. He was holding his school backpack.

  “What are you doing here?” they asked, closing the door behind him.

  “I went home but then there was a car in front of my house when I got close. It was the police. Someone tipped them off about something—the necromancy books maybe, or maybe that everyone thinks I’m a fairy, or that I was a patient at Archie Pagan’s practice.” He was panting. “I couldn’t think of what to do so I hid for hours and then came here. They didn’t see me.”

  “Do you think they know I have the books too?”

  “I don’t know,” Tommy said. He looked up. “Who is that girl?”

  “I’m Elaine,” Elaine said, emerging from the bedroom and sticking out her hand. “On the run from the cops too, huh? What’d you do? I’m a werewolf.”

  Tommy and Z both stared at her.

  “Is she—” Tommy looked to Z. “Can I trust her?”

  “I don’t know,” Z said. “She’s the one Aysel went to the movies with, though.”

  “I have forbidden books,” Tommy said. “On necromancy and demons. I took them from the university library.”

  “The numbskulls at school say Tommy’s a fairy,” Aysel, also emerging from the bedroom, informed Elaine.

  “Shit,” Elaine said brightly. She looked down at Tommy. “Nice hair, by the way.”

  “Thanks,” Tommy said. “Also, I think I should tell you guys. Before things get worse.” He looked at Z.

  “What is it?” Z asked. They wondered for a moment if Tommy had brought someone back from the dead.

  “You should know, uh, I didn’t tell the whole truth before. When I said I wasn’t a werewolf. That’s true, but I did get electroshock from Archie Pagan. I’m a shapeshifter.”

  Elaine and Aysel exchanged a glance. Z just stared.

  “What do you mean?” Z asked.

  “My dad took me to him. It was experimental and like, probably very illegal, usually that’s not what happens with fey, but my dad said it worked for him. Archie did it for him too.”

  Elaine sat back down on the couch slowly. “God,” she said. “I’ve known people who went to Pagan for years and never heard about any of that shit. You know that’s crazy, right? That’s way more dangerous than any of us thought.”

  “Yeah,” Tommy said.

  “Do you know, though?” Elaine asked. “Shapeshifters can’t get their magic taken away like werewolves can. You guys are like way more fey than us. You’re made of magic. If he zaps you he’s just asking for like, a rift to open and for some kind of magical explosion to jump out from the fey world and neutralize the whole state of Oregon.”

  “I’ve never met a shapeshifter,” Aysel said. “I thought they’d all left America or gone into hiding.”

  “Well, they have,” Elaine said, gesturing to Tommy. “Clearly.”

  “He talked a little bit about the risks,” Tommy said. “He sort of thought that people had that part wrong and that we were more like werewolves after all. I started shapeshifting into big scary monster things when I was like eight. Or switching around my body. My granddad was full fey, and
my dad got electroshock and can’t do magic. Which—Archie Pagan thought that proved his theory, so I went to him too. But we kept it hidden and stuff. As far as I know, all his other patients were werewolves.”

  Elaine shuddered. “What happened when he shocked you?”

  Tommy looked down. “Mostly I would transform in the chair and then gradually I would like, feel worse and worse like my skin was bursting and I’d turn back into a kid.”

  Everyone paused to absorb this information.

  “That must have fucked up your ability to like, transform when you wanted,” Elaine said.

  Tommy shrugged. “I didn’t think about it for a long time, but probably. But I still can do magic pretty well. And I turned into animals when I was taking the books from the library.”

  “Have you ever like, exploded? In the chair?”

  Tommy looked sideways at Elaine. “What do you mean?”

  “Like lost control.”

  Tommy flinched. “Uh, yeah.” He took a deep breath. “Uh, actually, uh.” He brushed his hair back. “I guess I can tell you, right?” He gestured at the window. “Everything going on is because of me.”

  “What?” Aysel asked.

  “Well, actually,” Tommy said, “the, uh, the night that Archie died, he like, was doing a session of electroshock with me. And I broke out of the chair as this big lion thing shooting electricity everywhere.” He looked at Z, rather than anywhere else in the room. “And, well, uh, I killed him. He shot me first, with this silver bullet gun he had in case stuff ever went wrong, but it didn’t do anything.”

  Aysel made a rasping noise, more choking than speaking. Tommy raised his shirt slightly, and Aysel and Elaine leaned forward. Z looked away, but not before seeing the deep bullet hole under one of Tommy’s ribs. “I didn’t mean to. I felt awful when I turned back into myself and the pain stopped. But I couldn’t figure out what to do so I hid his body in the woods.” He shuddered. “So basically it’s all my fault.”