“Elliott didn’t like getting hurled off a cliff,” Xander said ominously. “Elliott holds you responsible for that, man.”
“I had nothing to do with it!” Dillon exclaimed desperately. “I never told you to blackmail the guy! I never told you anything!”
“No joke,” Xander said, his voice as frigid as the ice crusted snow that surrounded them. “You never told me a thing. Just like you never told Aaron Fellows, or Phillip Edmunds. We found out all on our own that you set us up. After it was too late. That’s not cool, dude. That is so not cool!”
Dillon shook as he stared back at the doll, a range of emotions washing over his face.
He settled on defiance.
“You—stay away from me!” Dillon snarled, as he ripped off his coat and hurled it over the doll.
Dillon screamed and jumped back, as the coat literally exploded into fragments.
“Elliott doesn’t like being buried, man!” Xander said threateningly. The doll rose in the air and its dress billowed out, making it appear larger. “Elliott’s already been buried once. Elliott won’t be buried again!”
Dillon screamed some more as he spun in a circle, tore his hair, and stomped his foot.
“What do you want from me!” he yelled hysterically.
“Dude. It’s simple,” Xander said. The doll tossed its hands in the air, then held them behind its back as it paced back and forth in mid-air. “I want a confession.”
“A confession?” Dillon choked. He didn’t appear to know what that even meant.
“That’s right,” Xander continued. “I want a confession, man. In writing, and on video. Admit that you’re guilty of exposing classified files for insider trading tips. Admit you set up me and my compadres, and that all of us are innocent. Admit I got killed over it. You submit your confession to the list of contacts I give you, and… I’ll probably leave you alone after.”
Dillon wrapped his arms around himself and shivered as he slowly shook his head.
“I can’t do that.”
“Suit yourself,” Xander replied. “I hope you still have a two-bedroom, I want my own. Or maybe you have a house by now. Gotta spend those ill-gotten gains on something.”
“No,” Dillon said sharply.
“No house, no problem,” Xander glibly continued. “Apartment’s fine. Separate room’s negotiable too, doubt I’d spend much time in my own, anyway. It’ll be like camp. We’ll stay up all night talking every night. I don’t sleep much, did I mention that?”
“No!” Dillon said firmly, his gaze boring into the doll. “Go away, and leave me alone!”
“Dude! I can’t believe you’d say that. I’m almost hurt,” Xander replied. The doll pressed a china hand to its non-existent heart. Then it shrugged. “It’s not my idea for you to keep your confession to yourself. Come on, let’s go home. Is it just me, or is the air a little nippy this evening?”
Dillon froze as the doll walked across the snow covered ground, put an arm around the back of his leg, and guided him back to the car. I couldn’t believe he was going voluntarily. Then I realized he wasn’t. He had the panic-stricken look in his eyes that people get when Miles takes control of their movements.
“How are you doing this?” Dillon choked out, as he struggled against his invisible restraints.
“I’ve got powerful friends, Dillon. Much more powerful than you ever were. Are. Whatever. So who’s the girl, anyway?”
“What?” Dillon exclaimed.
“The girl. On the phone. I had a girlfriend once, you know. Elliott doesn’t recommend death as the best way to break up. Not that Elliott was going to. I really don’t know what Elliott was thinking. Tell me about this girl. I can’t wait for our next date.”
“What?” Dillon managed to snap.
“Well, yeah, you didn’t think I’d let this keep me home, did you?” Xander asked. The doll motioned to itself with one arm. “You know the old saying. You go, I go. We’re buds, man. Attached at the hip from now on.”
The doll bumped Dillon’s leg with its hip for emphasis.
“No!” Dillon shouted.
“You look like you’re freezing to death, man. Don’t you know better than to go out without a coat?” Xander asked disapprovingly. “Hurry it up, or you’ll be lucky if you don’t lose some appendages.”
Dillon screamed shrilly as he and the doll literally flew through the air and landed beside the car. He continued to scream as the door opened, and against his will, he climbed inside. The doll scrambled over him and into the driver’s seat, setting off another spasm of screams.
“I don’t remember you making this much racket before,” Xander said, as the car started and turned back in the direction of town. “Something bothering you, man?”
Dillon began to laugh. One of those “I lost my mind somewhere inside the parking garage,” kind of laughs. Then he began to cry.
“Aw, Dude,” Xander said reprovingly. “This is making me real uncomfortable.”
“You?” Dillon said shrilly. “This is making you uncomfortable?”
The doll had to think about that. It finally shrugged.
“You’re right. I might as well get used to it. You’re probably gonna do a lot of that from now on.”
“Why!” Dillon yelled desperately. “Why are you doing this?”
The doll turned its head to look at him.
“You got memory issues, Dillon?” Xander asked with concern. “I already told you why. Maybe you ought to see a doctor.”
“I suppose you’ll come with me, if I do,” Dillon snapped sarcastically.
“What kind of friend do you think I am, Dillon?” Xander replied, offended and slightly hurt. “How can you even wonder that? No matter where you go, from now on, I’m coming along. That’s not weird, right? I may be a doll, but you’re over there crying like a little girl…”
Dillon shrieked in anger and hurled his scarf at the doll. It promptly exploded.
The scarf, not the doll.
“That’s a waste of perfectly good outerwear,” Xander calmly pointed out. “Got anything else you want to lose, or are you done?”
Dillon slumped in his seat, his head in his hands.
Xander whistled a cheery tune as the doll drove the car through town at an alarming rate of speed.
“I forget, does that intersection have a red light camera?” Xander asked conversationally. He waited politely for an answer but didn’t get one. “Oh, well. We’ll hope for the best, then.”
Dillon’s only response was a groan.
Xander began whistling once again. He kept it up all the way through the city. By the time they reached the residential area where Dillon lived, he had all he could stand.
“Cut it out!” he snapped. “You know how much I hate that!”
“Oh… that’s right,” said Xander, as if it now dawned on him. “That’s right. Worse than fingernails on a chalkboard, as I recall.”
“So cut it out,” Dillon exclaimed savagely.
“I suppose I could sing instead,” said Xander thoughtfully. “I’d turn on the radio, but… the knob’s kind of out of my reach.”
Dillon glared at the doll suspiciously.
“Oh, is it? Nothing else is!”
Xander laughed.
“Thanks for reminding me!”
The stereo switched on. Through the speakers, boomed a voice.
“DEATH… COMES… UNEXPECTEDLY!” shouted the reverend from the movie Pollyanna.
“Amen, brother! You preach it!” Xander hollered back.
Dillon began to cry again.
The reverend continued to blast his movie congregation, as Dillon sobbed. The doll zipped through neighborhood streets at break-neck speed. It didn’t bother with the hindrance of the brake when cornering. Dillon gave up crying for the time being, and held onto the dash for dear life.
In an astonishingly brief period of time, the car came to a jarring halt inside Dillon’s garage, a hair’s breadth short of the door which slowly continued
to roll back.
The gears shifted from drive to park, and the key turned in the ignition. The only sound now was the soft tick of the engine, and Dillon’s labored breathing.
“You don’t sound good, man. You got asthma, or something?” Xander asked with concern.
Dillon was too spent to manage even a glare.
The doll hopped out of the car and led the way inside the house. Dillon followed whether he wanted to, or not. Judging by the whimpering sounds he made, I’d say not.
“Nice place,” the doll said approvingly, as it looked around. Then it stopped, and its glass eyes fixed on Dillon. “You don’t look good, man.”
He didn’t. Dillon Graves was a shell of his former cocky, arrogant self. He stood there shivering, his hair on end, his face pale. He looked completely overwhelmed.
“Take a seat,” Xander told him. Whether he wanted to or not, Dillon had a seat at the kitchen table. The doll looked around, rummaging through cabinets. “Mind if I make myself at home? Might as well…”
Dillon stared dully as the doll hopped onto the counter and filled a glass measuring cup with water. It placed the water in the microwave, then proceeded to brew a cup of tea.
The doll picked up the ceramic mug in its china hands and hopped off the counter. It’s black, patent leather boots tapped lightly against the tile floor as it walked to the table, then hopped into a chair. It shoved the steaming mug toward Dillon, then rested its arms on the table. Its eyes shone faintly in the light as Dillon stared back at it.
“Drink up,” Xander ordered. The doll motioned toward the hot tea.
Dillon slowly reached for the mug, then cradled it in his cold hands. As he drank, his color gradually returned. He fixed his eyes on the doll.
“What happened to you?” Dillon wanted to know, a look of macabre horror in his eyes. “Why are you like this?”
“I really can’t say,” Xander replied. “It takes some getting used to, but… you should try and do that sooner, rather than later. At the rate you’re going… Malibu Barbie may be too much to ask for.”
“What are you talking about?” Dillon asked. He lost some of his newly regained color.
“You’re not willing to confess your crimes and make amends,” Xander replied. “You’ve caused harm and disgrace to others. They’re still feeling that, it hasn’t gone away for them. You did that, and you could fix it… but you won’t.”
Dillon flushed and paled rapidly, as he took that in.
“You’re saying I’ll end up like—this—if I don’t confess?”
“That’s not up to me, man. I’m here to encourage you to do the right thing. As long as it takes, I’ll stick by you, Dillon. You can count on it.”
The doll propped its feet on the table and put its hands behind its head as it leaned back against the seat rest. It was too small to also sit on the seat, so it just sort of hovered there.
“Why?” Dillon wailed. “Why me? Isn’t there some serial killer you can torture into confessing, instead?”
“Elliott wasn’t stabbed in the back by a serial killer,” Xander pointed out.
“I didn’t stab you in the back!” Dillon declared. “You went over a cliff, and I had nothing to do with it!”
“Don’t tell Elliott how he died, man! Elliott was there!” Xander fired back rather hysterically. The doll leaped on top of the table and stomped its foot.
“But I didn’t do it!” Dillon insisted, cringing. “I had nothing to do with that!”
“I see you’re lacking in the cause and effect department,” Xander replied, suddenly calm. The doll began to pace the table. “Elliott never would’ve figured out what you were doing if you didn’t charge audit logs—”
“Change,” John immediately interjected.
“Change, it’s change audit logs,” Miles said quickly into the microphone.
“If you didn’t change audit logs and use Elliott’s account to expose classified files,” Xander continued smoothly.
“I’m sorry about that,” Dillon muttered.
“Really, man?” Xander asked skeptically. “Don’t you mean you’re sorry you got caught? Because I don’t remember hearing an ‘I’m sorry’ all those times you didn’t visit Elliott’s grave!”
“I am sorry!” Dillon blubbered. “I felt guilty, okay! I couldn’t do anything to change what happened. I just… wanted to forget it!”
“You wanted to keep on profiting at the expense of others,” Xander stated.
“I wanted to stay alive!” Dillon declared. “This guy you tried to blackmail, he’ll have me killed if I don’t give him what he wants! Why don’t you go after him, instead!”
“Why would I do that?” Xander asked. The doll tilted its head as if puzzled. “Going after that guy won’t help Aaron Fellows and Phillip Edmunds.”
Suddenly the doll spun on its heel and faced Dillon. Its glass eyes stared at him and he stared back.
“Wait a minute…” Xander said slowly. “You… didn’t think I was here for you, did you?”
Dillon was thrown by that question and stared back wordlessly.
“Dillon, Dillon, Dillon,” Xander laughed. The doll paced again. “You made your bed. You should lie in it, but you haven’t. Instead, you set up Aaron, Elliott, and Phillip to take the fall for you. They’re all paying the price of your wrongdoing. It’s got to end, man. It’s got to end. I won’t rest, and neither will you, until you make this right for them.”
Dillon deflated.
“How am I supposed to do that?” he asked.
“Confess, man! Do you have a hearing impediment? Write your confession. Record it on video. Submit it to the list I provide. Then I go.”
“No,” Dillon replied, shaking his head firmly as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. “I do that, and I get killed for sure. Or the DOD strings me up! If I get convicted of treason, I could get the death penalty!”
The doll shrugged.
“Maybe, maybe not. It makes for a good hypothetical, though. So, what would you prefer? Death at the hands of a really ticked off crime ring lord, or lethal injection? Before you make up your mind, remember that Elliott has experience in this department. Elliott does not recommend option number one.”
Dillon paled again, but his jaw was set.
“I’ll take neither, thank you very much!”
“There’s a chance of that, sure, if you confess and let the DOD deal with you. On the other hand… you lost Phillip. That crime ring dude is gonna be after you either way. Keeping your confession to yourself is more likely to ensure your death, than prevent it.”
“No, but I’ve still got information this guy wants,” Dillon said eagerly. “This is way better than medical research.”
“How do you figure that?” Xander wondered. “This isn’t about that interview you had, is it?”
Dillon’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Dude.” Xander said. The doll’s glass eyes fixed on Dillon. “They’re never gonna hire you.”
“They might,” Dillon argued. “I didn’t mess up that bad. Besides, nobody can know everything off the top of their head. They’ll cut me some slack.”
“About as much as you did Phillip,” Xander retorted. “They won’t bully you though, put you down in front of others, threaten your family, and use you. No, they’ll take one look at your work antics and toss your resume in the ‘not in a million years’ pile. Your Daddy doesn’t work there, or didn’t you know?”
Dillon shot the doll a resentful look, but there was a trace of fear behind it.
“The program will hire another guy to take Phillip’s place,” he replied doggedly. “They’re already interviewing.”
Every item in the room lifted in the air and came down hard. Phillip shrieked and cringed.
“Have you learned nothing, man?!” Xander bellowed. The doll shook, and its hair stuck out from its head. “You’re making me angry! Very angry!”
Every item not firmly fixed in place began to shake as if there
was an earthquake. The shaking increased, and Dillon cringed and covered his head with his arms. Within seconds, he decided it was more prudent to use his hands to cling to the chair, instead. The furniture was now closer to the ceiling than it was the floor, and he was highly motivated to keep his seat. In spite of his best efforts, he was nearly flung out.
“I’m sorry!” he wailed. “I’m sorry!”
The shaking ceased.
“For… what?” Xander asked suspiciously.
“For being born!” Dillon sobbed hysterically.
“Oh.” The doll paced the table again. “That, is possibly the one thing that’s not your fault. Wasting the life you’ve been given, is. You had potential, man! You could’ve been something. Instead, you’re a coward. Dude, are you even happy?”
“Not right now, I’m not,” Dillon blurted.
The doll shook its head sadly—or disdainfully, maybe both—it only had one facial expression. The table and chairs slowly returned to their place on the floor.
“You’re never gonna be happy, man,” Xander said, his voice compassionate. “Not with me living here, anyway, I can promise you that. Your only chance is to confess. Make right what you’ve done. Take responsibility for your actions, and take that weight off of Aaron and Phillip.”
“My life will be over,” Dillon sniffed.
“What, you’d rather look at this every day?” Xander asked. There was a clinking sound as the doll patted its china face with its china hand. “Don’t bother trying to tell me I don’t look so bad, or suggest I get a makeover. Although I wouldn’t turn down a pair of pants. Maybe a haircut. I’m not sure what it’d do to this, though…”
The doll appeared to examine one of its ratted mohair curls.
“You look awful,” Dillon couldn’t help pointing out.
“Don’t I know it,” Xander replied. “I have nightmares about myself. In this creepy tower, then Alice turns it into a tearoom…”
I held my hands over my mouth.
“Stop trying to make my wife laugh,” Miles said quietly into the microphone.
“I’m not trying to make anyone laugh, man!” Xander replied, and Dillon looked confused. “Nothing about this is funny!”
Depart the Darkness Page 34
