Paint It Black

by Val Crowe

Yeah, I don’t know if I agree with that saying.

  Not that I’m saying having sex with Charlotte was bad.

  No, okay, actually I am. It was bad. It was an awful, awkward experience that I never want to relive, and afterward, I had the barnacle attached to me, and it felt like a literal physical weight on my neck, and it was pretty miserable. So, um, there was nothing about the experience that was really good.

  But, I mean, it wasn’t Charlotte’s fault. I don’t think it was my fault either, although it probably could have been. I can take the blame if necessary. She was a nice girl, and I’m sure that if she was actually attracted to me and in the mood to actually have sex, and that I had been similarly inclined, the whole thing would have been, you know, fine. But, as it was, it… wasn’t.

  We, uh, made it work, though, and, um, then I got dressed and left.

  The whole thing felt like a business transaction. One that also involved attempts at kissing. Awkward attempts. Ugh. I was glad it was over.

  After that happened, I drove back to the Airstream. I didn’t know how to help Wade, and I couldn’t bring myself to ask Charlotte to go in there after him, even though she really owed me a favor right now. Basically, I could tell she wanted me to leave, and I didn’t feel comfortable around her either.

  I knelt down in front of the refrigerator and sorted through the drinks I had in there. Did I just want some water or…? No, screw it, I needed a beer. I got out a Newcastle and popped it open. Then I leaned against the counter and stared blankly into space, drinking my beer.

  Well, blankly until the barnacle swung around into my face, looking like a grinning skull.

  I batted the thing away, swearing.

  So, had this been a good idea? Taking on the barnacle? On the one hand, maybe it was sort of noble and all. On the other hand, who knew how the thing was going to react around my neck. Maybe it would get crazy strong. Hell, maybe within a week, I’d be running around throwing random people out of windows under the influence of the barnacle, having completely lost my entire personality.

  I finished the beer, set it down, and shut my eyes.

  When I opened them, Mads was there.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey,” she said. “I see that you’ve got some extra baggage there.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Well, it seemed like the thing to do at the time.”

  “Oh, did it?” she said. “Really?” And her tone was sharp.

  I gave her a funny look. “I’ll be fine. I can’t throw myself out of the window in the Airstream, can I?” I went over to the bed and lay down on it, staring up at the ceiling.

  Mads stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed over her chest.

  “What?” I said. I groaned, throwing an arm over my face. “Don’t look at me in that tone of voice.” I was trying to lighten the mood. “It’s been a shit day.”

  “You went down on her,” she said.

  I threw my arm away from my face and scrambled to sit up. “You were watching?”

  “No, not… all of it,” she said.

  “Don’t do that,” I said. “I’m making a rule right now, that you don’t watch me if I’m with another—with a woman.”

  Her nostrils flared.

  I shut my eyes.

  She didn’t say anything.

  So, that was good. I should just keep my own damned mouth shut and let the silence stretch on and then this subject would be too odd to ever revisit and then we’d— “It was only to get the barnacle away from her. It wasn’t like I, you know, like her or something.” I couldn’t keep myself from talking, apparently.

  “Right, which is why you were putting your tongue between her legs? To be polite? That’s totally necessary.”

  “We had a conversation about whether or not it was important that, uh, there be orgasms to transfer the thing, and we didn’t know, so she said that was the best way to get her to…” I glanced at Mads. Bad idea. I looked away. “It didn’t work, anyway,” I muttered. “She did not, um… and I sort of prematurely… and then the barnacle, so—” I groaned, thinking about it. “It was bad. It was all bad.”

  “What? You want sympathy?”

  I looked at her again. “You can’t act as though there’s something between us. You’re a ghost.”

  “I’m not a ghost,” she said.

  “What? Yes, you are,” I said.

  “I mean, I’m not a dead person. I’m not an imprint, an echo of something was alive.”

  “So, then what are you?”

  She paused, just looking at me, and then she hung her head. “Yours. I’m yours.” And then she flickered out, disappearing before I could even comprehend what she’d said, let alone say anything.

  “Hell,” I muttered under my breath.

  I got ready for bed in the bathroom, because Mads could be out there watching, even if I couldn’t see her. And it seemed as if I had privacy in there. I turned off the light and lay down in bed, and I tried to go to sleep.

  But I didn’t sleep. I lay awake for a long, long time.

  * * *

  “Deacon!”

  I blinked.

  I was not in bed. I was not in the Airstream. I was in Ridinger Hall, standing in that empty room where Heather Olsen had fallen and I was standing right at the window, the night air in my face.

  Mads was next to me, yelling in my ear.

  I looked at her. “How did I get here?”

  “You walked,” she said. “I’ve been trying to get through to you for ages.”

  The barnacle swung around in front of me, chattering and chuckling. “Yes, yes. Jump. Jump now.” I passed a hand through the thing and it flitted away in black smoke only to reform a moment later. “You have nothing to live for, anyway.”

  I blinked again, hard. “I walked all the way here?”

  “Yes,” said Mads.

  I looked down at my bare feet, which were dirty and covered in pieces of grass and… oh, great, bleeding. At least one of them. I seemed to have stepped on some broken glass. Wincing, I limped over to put my back against the wall and I gingerly dug out the shard of glass. That was going to get infected. Hell.

  “You were totally unresponsive,” she said. “I tried everything. It was like you were sleepwalking.”

  Excellent. Perfect. Just perfect.

  “Jump,” hissed the barnacle. “Everything will be easier if you jump. You know you’ve never fit in this world. No one loves you.”

  I stretched my neck on my shoulders. Okay, not for nothing, but have you ever had something whisper, “No one loves you” to you? It’s surprising how shitty that feels.

  “Deacon,” whispered Mads. “It’s not true.”

  “I know that,” I said. “It’s just what it does.”

  “She doesn’t count,” said the barnacle. “No one real loves you. No one alive. Not even your own mother.”

  “Shut up,” I said, brushing at the thing again.

  The barnacle giggled. “It’s so much more fun when you can see and hear me, I have to admit. Trying to influence your friend Wade wasn’t as easy. He’s not very intuitive, is he? But the first girl… Olivia.” It savored the syllables of her name. “She was a pushover.”

  I stiffened.

  “She never had anything to live for, anyway,” said the barnacle. “Sad lonely girl in a small town. She probably would have jumped all on her own eventually, anyway.”

  I gritted my teeth. I needed to stop listening to that thing. I needed to stop paying attention to it. I needed—

  “If you jump now, you two can be together,” said the barnacle. “Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? Oh, and you’ll be with Madeleine too. Worshiped by two undead women. What more can you ask for?”

  Okay, we were finding a way to get this thing unattached and we were doing it as quickly as we could. I was not going to be able to stand listening to this kind of crap all the time. I wasn’t sure how exactly I would manage it, but I would find a way.

  I strode across the
room toward the door.

  Ouch.

  Damn it, my foot.

  I slowed, limping.

  And then I heard that odd humming noise I had heard before, when I’d come into the dorm to get Wade. The floor seemed to vibrate under my feet. Colors swirled in front of me, and I was back in that room from before, “Your Love” playing in the background, Heather Olsen giggling drunkenly.

  This time—thank God—she wasn’t touching me, but some other guy. I could see the two of them together. She was pressing herself against him, kissing him. “You want me,” she said against his lips. “Say it.”

  Obediently, the guy repeated what she’d said.

  “You want me bad.”

  “I want you bad,” said the guy.

  Heather laughed. She pushed away from him and wandered over to a table by the window, where a bottle of vodka was uncapped. She seized it by the neck and took a drink. And then she made a face. “I feel sleepy,” she muttered.

  “What?” said the guy. “No way. You told me to come up here with you.”

  She laughed again, stumbling. Then, abruptly, she sat down on the floor and giggled. “Oops!”

  “God, Heather, how much have you had to drink?”

  Heather was still giggling. “Not that much.” She moaned. She stretched out on the floor. “Take a nap.”

  The guy laughed too. “Come on, stop messing around.”

  Heather’s eyes fluttered closed.

  “Damn it,” muttered the guy. He moved over to her, and when he did, it was obvious that he was very drunk as well. He staggered a little and then ended up on his knees. He shook her. “Wake up, Heather.”

  Heather didn’t budge. She was snoring.

  The guy tried to shake her again. She didn’t wake up. He twisted, yelling at the closed door. “Hey, Paul! You were next, right? Well, she’s fucking asleep.”

  “What?” a voice yelled from beyond the door.

  The guy got up and went to the door. He opened it. “Heather’s passed out, man.”

  “Oh, fuck that,” said another male voice, probably Paul’s. The door was pushed open and Paul came inside. “Not cool. Not cool at all. I’m getting sloppy seconds—”

  “Fifths,” laughed the other guy.

  “Yeah,” said Paul. “Only now, not at all, because look at this.” He wandered over to Heather’s form and grabbed her by the shoulders. He shook her with force.

  “Hey, man, come on,” said the other guy. “She drank way too much. Let it go.”

  “No,” said Paul. He slapped Heather across the cheek. “Wake up, bitch!”

  “Geez,” said the other guy. “Don’t do that.” He went over and grabbed Paul by the arm. “Let’s go. It’s not that important. There might even be other girls downstai—”

  “Other guy’s girlfriends,” said Paul. “No one that’s not off limits. No, I was promised a turn with Heather tonight, and I’m taking it. You don’t want yours, fine.” He reached down and hauled Heather up by her armpits. Her head flopped backwards. She let out a whimper.

  “Paul, put her on the bed,” said the other guy.

  Paul slammed her against the wall instead, right next to the window. “Wake up,” he said in a tight voice.

  “Don’t.” The other guy came over and grabbed Paul, pulling him off Heather.

  But Paul still was holding onto her.

  And the other guy didn’t have great balance. He was pretty drunk.

  So they all swayed backwards and then then they all tried to regain equilibrium by coming forward. But they were moving too fast and they collided with the window.

  Glass shattered.

  Heather’s eyes opened wide and she screamed.

  Paul let go of her.

  The other guy let out a throaty yell.

  Heather kept screaming. She fell through the window, and she screamed and screamed and the scream got further and further way.

  Until it cut off.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “Okay, so it wasn’t like you said,” I was saying into the phone to Rylan. “It wasn’t a fight. I mean, not exactly. The two guys were at odds a little bit, but the whole thing was an accident.” I was in my truck, driving back to town. I’d had a hell of a time getting back to the Airstream with my bare feet, but I’d made it. I’d cleaned my wound and bandaged it, and hopefully, it wasn’t already infected.

  “Deacon?” Rylan sounded groggy. I had woken her up, probably. It was still the middle of the night.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” I said.

  “Why are you calling me?”

  “I saw a vision,” I said. “I wanted to tell you about it.”

  “You saw another vision? Did you go back in the dorm?”

  “I didn’t mean to. I sleepwalked there.”

  “Oh, well, great. That makes me feel totally safe. I mean, I haven’t been sleepwalking, at least not that far.”

  “You’ve been sleepwalking?” I said.

  “Well, I mean, I’m not in bed right now,” she said.

  “God damn it, Rylan,” I said. “This is serious shit we’re dealing with.”

  “I’m not saying it isn’t.”

  “But you won’t help me with Wade.”

  “You were just in the place. If he was in there, you would have found him.”

  “No, I wouldn’t have. The dorm is hiding him from me. I need you to go in there and look for him.”

  “Why me? Get someone else.”

  “I tried. The dorm screwed with the guy hard. It scared the piss out of him. Literally.”

  “Well, that’s why I don’t want to go back in there,” she said. “It scared me too.”

  “Listen, I know Wade is in there.”

  “How can you know?”

  “A ghost told me. She told me that the dorm is hiding Wade from me. It has to be someone else who finds him, and that someone is you. Come on, Rylan.”

  “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you no.”

  “It’s sort of your fault he’s in this mess, anyway. If you’d never taken him into that place to film for your damned youtube channel—”

  “Oh, screw you and your guilt card, Deacon.”

  “Please,” I whispered.

  She sighed.

  * * *

  “Little help?” called Rylan from the door of Ridinger Hall.

  I was on the sidewalk. I craned my neck. “You found him?”

  “He’s not conscious. I can’t get him out of here on my own. If you come in to help me drag him out, is it going to wake up the place really bad?”

  I honestly wasn’t sure. But it was a risk worth taking. She’d found Wade. I hurried up the front steps and across the porch. As I crossed the threshold, I heard a soft humming in the background, but I ignored it.

  Rylan was standing half inside, half outside the check-in room. She had Wade under the armpits. His head lulled to one side and his eyes were shut.

  I rushed forward and took her place, directing her to get his feet. Together, we carried him out of that place and lay him down on the sidewalk in front of the building. I knelt next to him and gently shook his shoulders. He was warm and he was breathing. I could see that.

  But he didn’t respond.

  “Hey,” I said in a soft voice. “Hey, Wade. Wake up.”

  Nothing from Wade.

  I looked up at Rylan. “Where was he?”

  “In the check-in room,” she said.

  “But we looked in there the first night. I looked again when I went back,” I said. “He wasn’t in there.”

  “I know,” said Rylan. “I guess you were right. The building was hiding him from us. And without you in there, maybe it doesn’t have so much juice.”

  “I guess he could have been there all along and I didn’t see.”

  “So, what do we do?” said Rylan. “Go get your truck, take him back to his place?”

  I chewed on my lip. “We don’t know what’s wrong with him. What if he needs a doctor?”

&nb
sp; “I figured if it was supernatural, modern medicine couldn’t help,” said Rylan.

  “Well, maybe it could help,” I said. “Besides, we can’t just leave him comatose in his apartment. We have to call 911.”

  “But what do we tell them when they get here?”

  “The truth. We lost him in the dorm two nights ago, and we found him this morning,” I said. “They’ll think we were partying too hard or something.”

  “Yeah, and maybe we get in trouble for trespassing.”

  “If they cared about that, they’d put a door on that place.” I pointed at the gaping hole that opened there, like a hungry mouth. And then I felt a strange feeling pulling me toward that dark hole.

  Come inside, Deacon. Deep inside.

  I shivered and tore my gaze away. I got out my phone and dialed 911.

  We waited for the ambulance to come together, but then we weren’t allowed to drive in the ambulance with Deacon, so we had to get my truck and drive to the hospital. Once there, it was kind of a bust, though, because they wouldn’t let us see Wade as they were admitting him and doing tests and stuff.

  I offered to take Rylan home, but she was wary of that. She said she didn’t feel safe around the windows. Every time she looked at one, she felt this urge to get closer. “It’s like when you climb up someplace high and you look down over at the ground, and it’s dizzying down there, but you can feel some part of you wants to fall. There’s a name for that.”

  “Call of the void,” I said.

  “Yeah,” she said. “It’s horrifying, because it’s inside you. It’s your own self betraying you, trying to throw you to your death. That’s what it feels like.”

  “Well, it’s not you,” I said. “It’s the barnacle.”

  Anyway, I agreed that it was better if she stayed with me, so we both hung out in Wade’s hospital room, after he was all checked in, that is. We stayed up and watched him sleep and hours passed.

  I felt pretty horrible, overall. I had done that bit with the oil, which had taken a lot out of me. And then I’d been snacked on by hungry ghosts in the Ridinger Hall. And the barnacle was on me too. It was pretty draining. So, it probably wasn’t surprising that I fell asleep in an uncomfortable chair next to Wade’s bed.

  I dreamed that I was back in Ridinger Hall, wandering down the hallway, looking for Wade. He was somewhere inside because I could hear him calling for me, yelling my name, but I couldn’t find him. I kept walking and the hallway kept stretching out longer and longer and longer.