by Jim Moens
Do better.
Doug narrowed his eyes as he stared at the large old house. He wondered what it was like when the Schmidt family occupied it. He wondered what his life would be like had the Schmidt family not fallen on sudden hard times as it did.
Do better than me.
Ever since, it had been nothing but misfortune for his family. Death. Prison. Failure. Doug shook his head. Someone had to stem the tide.
Do better than me.
Doug knew it was up to him and him alone. No matter what. No matter the odds. It was time to fight and time to win.
The trouble was, he had no idea what to do.
He walked down the short flight of stairs, only to be greeted by an empty NerdCave. His heart dropped to his stomach as he looked about. The cards were still neatly arranged on the center table. The TV was still on, inexplicably tuned to a Scooby-Doo cartoon that had been badly dubbed in Spanish. Doug didn’t say a word. He didn’t shout for the others, asking where they had gone. He knew it was of no use. He knew what had happened.
He approached the center table and glanced across the array of Wizard Wars cards. Warriors. Demons. Monsters. Kings. He picked up a card for a creature named Reptilicus. Reptilicus was the spawn of the Demon King and was therefore powerful, intelligent, and ruthless. Its long talons and razor-sharp fangs made it a fearsome and deadly beast. Doug glanced down at another card. The illustration was of a colorful, swirling vortex. The title simply read Portal. Another card, this one with the word Transform across the top, had a picture of a strapping, valorous warrior in the throes of a bright purple glow.
Doug suddenly felt a nervous tingle on the back of his neck. He dropped the Reptilicus card onto the table. He turned, only to see all seven feet Reptilicus itself rise up through the floor, as if ascending from the very depths of hell itself. He stepped back, furtively glancing about the NerdCave for something, anything, to use as a weapon. He presumed the XBox controller at his feet would not be terribly effective against Reptilicus.
Doug continued to back away as the fully ascended creature stepped forward and hissed. He raised his hands, ready to fight, but suddenly found himself against the opposite wall, with Reptilicus still approaching.
The creature thrust a taloned claw at him. Doug sidestepped and circled away. No longer trapped against the wall, Doug swung a kick at what he presumed was the creature’s knee. No effect other than the answer of another hiss.
Reptilicus turned and continued to stalk towards Doug.
“Okay, fella,” Doug said under his breath, “what’s your weak point?” He wished he still had that card in hand, as that might yield some insight into how to defeat the creature.
Reptilicus swung at Doug again. Doug was barely able to bend back and avoid the sharp talons. Reptilicus bared its row of sharp teeth and seemed to draw in a deep breath. It let out a high-pitched shriek so loud it was painful to Doug’s ears.
Reptilicus leaped at Doug and they both tumbled to the floor. The creature jabbed its claw at Doug’s face. He was able to grab its wrist just as one of the talons was a mere centimeter from his eye.
Doug tried in vain to roll away, but the creature was much too heavy and far too strong to escape from. He was barely able to keep its razor claws and sharp, snapping teeth at bay.
No way out, Doug thought. But I’m sure as hell not ready to die.
“You.. don’t get… to kill me.” The creature’s weight was suffocating Doug. He could barely speak. His vision began to blur.
Reptilicus bared its teeth and drew in another breath. Suddenly the business end of a sword issued from the middle of Reptilicus’ chest. Dark green blood dripped onto Doug’s chest. The onset of a blood-curdling shriek became the merest whimper.
The sword withdrew and Reptilicus fell off to the side, landing with a resounding thud. Doug looked up and saw a dark-haired young woman with a determined scowl on her face. His jaw dropped.
“Megan?”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
1951
daddy
im sorry i did wat i did and i dont know why
this way i wont be a burden no more
sorry
your son
dean
Dean lived in a small guest house at the rear of Desmond's property. The note was found on Dean’s nightstand, mere feet from his swinging body. Fortunately it was the police, in their quest to investigate Ayala's death, rather than Desmond who discovered that Dean had hung himself. For all his gruff and bluster, Desmond truly did love his son.
The most likely scenario, at least according to the police, was that Dean had been watching the Cristescu home in an effort to see Adela. Seeing Ayala leave (or just as likely, return) through her bedroom window had put the thought in his mind of going in and getting her himself. Years of rage and resentment and self-loathing came out and were directed squarely at an innocent Ayala. In the end, though, no one would ever know what drove Dean to commit such a heinous act.
Dennis had considered leaving town directly after Ayala's funeral service, but realized that there was nowhere to go, really. While Ayala's ghost would be everywhere in town, Dennis would at least be afforded the comfort of family and friends if he stayed. Leaving town would mean solitude, and that was when the loneliness and grief and regret would seize his soul and refuse to let go.
The funeral was a private affair. The Cristesu family, Dennis and his family, as well as Fred and Chuck attended. Dennis didn't cry until they began to lower Ayala's casket into the earth, and even then he managed to maintain some measure of equilibrium. Hugs and expressions of sympathy were exchanged and the funeral party dispersed.
Dennis looked up just as he was about to get into his father's car, an enormous tail-finned Cadillac. Adela stood under a tree, motionless, her face blank of emotion. Dennis offered a tentative wave. She turned on her heels and briskly walked away.
Andrei Cristescu quietly resigned his position at the Schmidt Brothers Quarry. David said that was “understandable given the circumstances”. Fortunately, Andrei was quickly able to get on with the construction crew for the new bridge, a job that would take at a minimum three years. Many men from the quarry went to work on the bridge, to the point where there was only enough labor to support one shift each weekday, and no Saturdays. There was still work to be done there, but not enough labor to do it all.
Dean's funeral was just two days after Ayala's. Dennis did not attend... also “understandable given the circumstances” per David Schmidt. Uncle or no, Dennis didn't want to go to the funeral of the man that killed his fiancee. Desmond essentially became a recluse after the funeral. He stopped making his twice a week visits to the quarry and had all but stopped going to his office at the bank.
Dennis picked up a fierce smoking habit, and after a few weeks, an even fiercer chronic cough. He found the Lucky Strikes somehow dulled his pain, even if only in a small way. Chuck, the former high school athlete, was dead-set against this new habit.
“You know,” Chuck said, “some people say smoking is bad for you.”
Dennis took another drag and threw the butt out his car window. “Who cares?” he said.
A moment of silence as they drove through town. “Maybe I do,” Chuck said.
Dennis ignored him and turned down a side street.
“So did you want to get a burger after the movie?” Chuck said, and forced a snicker. “Fred will be hungry, right?”
“That's fine,” Dennis said quietly.
They drove in silence again, until Dennis pulled over about two blocks from Fred's house. He pressed his head against the steering wheel. His hands started to shake. He began to sob uncontrollably.
“Hey... buddy...” Chuck started to say, but he realized any attempt to console his friend was futile. Dennis needed to just let it all out.
“There's something...” Dennis said, his words coming between gasps and sobs. “There's something no one knows...”
Chuck suddenly felt fearful. “What is it?”
he said.
“Ayala... she was... she was pregnant.”
“Holy shit, Dennis.”
“Nobody knows. Not even Fred. Not even my parents.”
“Why are you telling me?”
Dennis shrugged. “I just... I guess I had to tell somebody.”
“Sure, buddy.”
“We were even thinking about names,” Dennis said. “I got to pick the boy names. She got to pick the girl names. I was thinking maybe Drake. Or Damon.”
“Yeah, you always gotta have the “D” names in your family, don't you?”
Dennis nodded. “Yeah. Tradition. None of that matters now, I guess.”
“Listen, pal,” Chuck said, “you're going to get through this.”
“No. I won't. I'll never meet anyone like her again.” Dennis shifted his car into drive and pulled out into the street. “Let's just go to this damn movie. What are we seeing?”
“Some spaceman thing,” Chuck said. ”It's called 'The Day the Earth Stood Still' or something like that. My cousin Bobby saw it, said it was real good.”
Dennis turned down Oak Street, a block away from Fred's. He screeched to a stop.
Chuck almost went headfirst into the dashboard. “What the hell, Dennis?” he said.
Chuck looked up and saw Adela as she stood in the middle of the street, mere feet from Dennis' bumper. She had a strange half-smile on her face. She reached into the pocket of her long gray coat, drew out a pistol, and leveled it at Dennis.
“Oh shit, don't!” Chuck said. He unbuckled his seatbelt and scrambled for the door handle.
Dennis didn't move a muscle. He stared back at Adela.
Chuck opened the door and more or less fell out of the car. He looked back at Dennis. “Buddy, get out of the car!”
Dennis didn't move.
Adela pulled the trigger. Dennis protected his face with his hands as the windshield exploded into the interior of his car. Adela held the gun up and inspected it.
“I'm not going to kill you, Dennis,” she said.
“What do you want?”
“I want to tell you something.” She smiled again. “You're going to suffer. You and your family and all of your heirs.”
Chuck stood.
“Really?” Dennis said. “I think we’re already suffering.”
“This is nothing. I've cursed you and cursed your family. Your lives will be nothing but darkness and failure and suffering and death until the end of time.”
“You crazy bitch,” Chuck shouted. “I knew there was a reason I didn't go out with you again.”
“You broke my family,” Adela said, ignoring Chuck. “Now I've broken yours.”
Adela slipped the gun back in her jacket pocket. She turned and slowly walked away.
“A curse?” Chuck said as he got back in the car. “Is she serious?”
Dennis shook some bits of glass from his hair. “She shot my car,” he said. “I'm pretty sure she's serious.”
“We should call the police then.”
“No police,” Dennis said. “They go and put her in jail and she just puts another damn curse on me or something. Or maybe she gets really mad and comes after me with a gun again. And finishes the job.”
“She might anyway,” Chuck said.
“She won't,” Dennis said. A little piece of him wouldn't have minded if she did, though. “It's over. Let's just get to the stupid movie, okay?”
sister
Elena sat motionless in the clearing, her eyes closed and her legs tucked underneath her.
sister
She called out for Adela but received no reply. She had been feeling the dark psychic energy since they learned of Ayala’s death… in fact, since the very moment the police officers told their parents.
sister
Elena’s spirit form rose from her body. She looked about. Her physical body sat in meditative repose. Eyes closed. Even and slow breaths. Shafts of sunlight came in through the trees above, casting an orange glow on her quiet form.
sister
Again she sent out the psychic call. Again no reply.
Then finally: “Sister.”
Elena turned at the voice. “I thought you were ignoring me,” she replied.
“No.” Adela slowly shook her head. “I’ve been meditating, just like you. I’ve been exploring.”
“Exploring?”
This time a nod, accompanied by a beatific smile. “The universe.”
A surge of dread gripped Elena. “The universe?” she said, her mouth dry. “What did you find?”
Adela grinned. It was not a peaceful smile. “Everything,” she said.
“What did you do?” Elena asked.
Adela’s smile faded.
More insistent: “What did you do?”
“A requiem for Ayala,” came the reply. “Our family will suffer forever. Now, so will theirs.” A pause. “It is fair.”
“You can’t control your--”
“I can control my power,” Adela interrupted. Her eyes began to glow with a dark purple cast. “But you can’t control me.”
Elena suddenly felt weak. She took a step and felt as if she was melting into the ground.
“Sister..” she begged. “Adela, don’t..”
“I’m not killing you,” Adela said. “There’s been enough of that. I’m sending you away.”
“Away?” Elena could hardly speak or breath, yet she managed to do so anyway. “Where…”
Adela looked at her sister sadly. “Somewhere far away,” she said. “Where you can’t stop me.” A pause. “I’m sorry.”
Elena’s form had gone from translucent to transparent and now she was almost fully gone. Her physical form had already disappeared.
“I’ll take care of mother and father,” Adela said. “I’m sorry. Goodbye.”
Elena faded away, as if she was never there in the first place.
Dennis stirred. He woke up slowly, as was his practice of late. He generally did all he could to stay in bed (or just as often, the living room couch), often extending his sleep into the mid-afternoon hours. He felt that the waking world had little to offer, plus there was always the chance that he might see his dearly departed beloved in his dreams. That was never the case, however.
He caught the scent of coffee nearby. Strong coffee. He felt the couch cushions shift a bit. He finally managed to sit up. He saw a cup of coffee, black, on the end table. It was still steaming hot. He saw his mother sitting at the other end of the couch. She was staring at Dennis, her hands folded in her lap, with a look on her face that he had never seen before.
“Good morning,” she said.
“What time is it?” Dennis replied, still a bit groggy.
“A bit past 9:30.”
Dennis fell back into his pillow. “I’m going back to sleep.”
“You most certainly are not,” Helen said. She rose from the couch and crossed the living room. She threw back the curtains of the front window. The light fell directly on Dennis’ face.
“Mom, I’m still tired and--”
“Did I ever tell you why I married your father?”
Dennis shook his head. Helen walked back to the couch and sat down.
“My own father,” she began, “God rest his soul… my father was a good man. He worked for years at the dairy. He delivered milk to every house in town. He did a wonderful job, until he dropped dead one morning. Mrs. Crenshaw found him on her front stoop, face down in a puddle of milk and glass. He left us with nothing. Nothing but a tiny house and two quarts of milk in the icebox. Mother eventually got a job at the dairy as a receptionist. We scraped by. Barely.”
Dennis looked up and saw that his mother’s gaze had wandered to the pictures on the fireplace mantle.
“When I met your father,” she continued, “I fell for him right away. So ambitious. So full of life and determination. So very strong. But a kind man, too.”
Helen was silent for a moment. She bowed her head.
“My father was a ki
nd man, but he was not strong. He was not ambitious or determined.” Helen turned to gaze at her son. “You are just like your father. You have strength and you have heart. Right now, yours is broken. Mine is too.” She reached out and pressed a hand to her son’s cheek. “But I’m afraid that you will forget that you are a Schmidt. I’m afraid that you will forget that you are strong.”
Helen rose.
“So you are most certainly not going back to sleep. You are going to get up and show the world what it means to be a Schmidt.” She was silent for a moment. She straightened her dress. “I’ll make you some breakfast.”
Helen strode out of the living room. Dennis slowly sat up. He reached for the cup of coffee and took a sip.
Hester's Value Mart opened just before Thanksgiving, just in time for the Christmas shopping season. It was a big place (far and away the biggest store in the county), situated just on the edge of town. It was a lot like the Sears store downtown... clothes, toys, tools, and even some appliances. They began hiring clerks, cashiers, salespeople, stockers, and managers. Dennis weighed his options. The hardware store had all but closed and was only expected to remain open through the end of the year, if that. Business had dried up quickly after Ayala's death. It seemed that the Schmidt family name had been tainted and suddenly only a few would do business with them. The quarry was on the verge of being sold to a mining conglomerate based out of Chicago. David Schmidt had decided to go the route of early retirement and began spending most of his days on the golf course. While it was true that the bank was still open, Dennis didn't exactly relish the prospect of working for his grandfather.
So having weighed his options, Dennis realized that there weren't very many. He applied at Hester's, was hired on the spot, and started in appliance sales just one week later. Much to his surprise, he found that he actually enjoyed the job. Certainly it took his mind off the events of the past few months and he started making a few new friends as well. He still spent a little time with Fred and Chuck, but sometimes being around them brought up memories of meeting Ayala, their time at the carnival, and simply happier days gone past. Dennis knew those ghosts were on him, but they always came along with his friends.