Born Weird

by Andrew Kaufman

  “You’re crazy,” Richard said. He took his right hand off the steering wheel and ran it over his hairless head. Then he put it back. He did not increase the speed of the van.

  “Why do you always doubt me?” Kent said. He punched the dashboard. It was not the sound of the hit, but the gasp of pain that followed, that woke Angie. She saw it too. Unwinding Paul’s arm from her shoulder she scooched forwards on the bench. She put her face in between the driver’s and passenger seat.

  “You can’t let it get away,” Angie said. “Do not let it get away.”

  “You can’t be serious?” Richard asked.

  “Lucy and Abba and I saw it before.”

  “When we were in Manitoba. When you almost drove off the off-ramp!”

  “Ontario. We were still in Ontario. But yes, then.”

  “So you’re crazy too?” Richard asked.

  “I just know that we saw it then and here it is again and that’s weird.”

  “It’s fucking getting away …”

  Richard looked out at the highway. The single tail light had already begun to fade. He slapped his head with his open palm. He did this three more times. “This is a very bad idea,” Richard said. His foot depressed the accelerator. The engine whine returned; a speed-wobble started. Both of them together woke everybody up.

  “What’s happening?”

  “Why are we going so fast?”

  “Slow down, Richard!”

  Richard increased their speed. The distance between the single tail light and the van decreased. Then the red sports car was inside the beam of their headlights.

  “It is a Maserati,” Richard said.

  “See?”

  “The left tail light’s out.”

  “Was it the left or the right? I can never remember.”

  “It was the left,” Angie said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. And shut up!”

  “What now?” Richard asked.

  “Flash your high beams,” Lucy said.

  “Get closer!” Kent said.

  “Don’t let him get away,” Abba said.

  “Not this time,” Angie said.

  Richard flashed his high beams. He honked the horn. But the Maserati did not slow down. It didn’t pull over. Richard shortened the gap between the van and the sports car. When only centimetres separated the bumpers, he veered into the left lane. He pulled alongside the car. He matched its speed. Inside the van everyone except Paul rushed to a passenger side window.

  They pushed their faces against the glass. They cupped their hands around their eyes. The van raced beside the Maserati.

  “Can you see him? Can you see him?” Richard asked.

  Angie looked away as motion sickness set in. Richard found her eyes in the rear-view mirror.

  “It’s too dark,” she said. “I couldn’t tell.”

  Richard looked back to the road. His lower jaw ground against his upper one. His eyes narrowed. The van began to move faster. Angie sat down and she buckled herself in.

  “What is going on?” Paul asked her.

  “Put on your seat belt.”

  “Tell me what’s happening!”

  “Do it now!”

  “Okay, okay,” Paul said. He complied. They gained a length on the Maserati and then a second, a third and a fourth, but not a fifth.

  “Not yet, Richard,” Angie called. “We’re still too close!”

  Richard did not respond. He turned the wheel sharply to the right. He hit the brakes. Abba and Lucy were thrown to the floor. Kent crashed down on top of them. Angie heard two sets of tires squeal. She felt the van skid to a stop. She shut her eyes. When she didn’t feel an impact, she opened them.

  The interior of the van was quiet. Everyone was still. Then, all at once, they rushed out.

  The van cut a 45-degree angle across the westbound lanes. Their headlights remained on. Dust drifted through the beams. They congregated at the centre line and stared at the Maserati. Less than six centimetres separated the two vehicles. The smell of burnt rubber was still in the air. None of them approached the Maserati. Its engine was still running. The driver stayed behind the wheel. They couldn’t see his face. For several moments not one of the Weirds spoke—then they all started shouting.

  “Get out of the car!”

  “Right now!”

  “Get out of the fucking car!”

  “Show your face!”

  “Now! Right now!”

  The driver’s side door began to open. The driver put his silhouetted feet onto the road. Standing up he held on to the door. He stayed behind it.

  “We can’t see you!”

  “Turn off your lights!”

  “Turn them off!”

  “Show your face!”

  “Now!” Angie yelled. “Right now!”

  Quickly, the driver reached inside his car. He turned off his headlights. They saw how short, young and terrified he was.

  “What do you want?” he asked. His voice trembled. He raised his hands over his head.

  Kent turned away first. Abba, Lucy and Richard followed him. This left Angie and Paul standing on the road. Their feet straddled the centre line. Paul put his hands on her shoulders. He turned her towards the van. She was halfway there when she stopped. She looked over her shoulder at the driver, whose hands were still raised in the air.

  “Your left tail light is out,” she said.

  FOR FOURTEEN HOURS, AS THEY DROVE through the Rocky Mountains and into British Columbia, past the most beautiful scenery in the country, no one said a word. They travelled without conversations, observations or optimism. Each of them stared out their own square of window as if the view needed to be guarded. And then, as they left the outskirts of Kamloops, they passed a sign. And the sign read:

  VANCOUVER: 352

  “What time is it?” Lucy asked as she drove. Her voice broke the silence so completely that no one noticed its absence.

  “The clock says 7:41,” Angie said, pointing to the dashboard.

  “That was three time zones ago!”

  “So it’s … 4:41?”

  “4:42.”

  “And if we drive at a hundred and twenty kilometres …”

  “Make it a hundred and forty …”

  “Speed limits are for fucking losers.”

  “See, Kent? Right there. That’s why no one will let you drive.”

  “What if we hit traffic?”

  “Vancouver doesn’t have traffic.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “There was a sign. We’re, like, three hundred and fifty-two kilometres away.”

  “Three hundred and fifty-one by now.”

  “How much time is that?”

  “It’s gonna be tight.”

  “Very tight.”

  “It may not be possible.”

  “But it is possible,” Abba said. “We’ll just go fast!”

  “Agreed,” Lucy said. She made the van go faster. She would not have stopped but the needle was already pointing below the E. Reluctantly she pulled into the next service station en route. Lucy jumped out and began to pump gas. Richard, Abba and Kent ran inside to get food. Paul unfastened his seat belt and he opened the door but Angie took his hand and she held it, firmly.

  “I gotta go to the bathroom,” he said.

  “Just stay for a second.”

  “I really gotta go.”

  “This is important,” Angie said. She looked at their hands and then she looked up at him.

  “It can’t wait?”

  “Listen, we have a theory …”

  “Who does?”

  “We. The family.”

  “Okay?”

  “It’s the theory of snakes and sharks. Kent made it up. It’s actually pretty complicated but the gist of it, the condensed version, is that there are two types of people who do evil in the world …”

  “Snakes and sharks?”

  “Exactly. The sharks are the people who are naturally evil.
They just cruise around the world doing evil things. But that’s what they do. It’s in their nature. Snakes are different. They don’t actually commit evil themselves, they convince other people to do it.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “The question, which we have been debating since we were little kids and which we’ve never been able to definitively answer is, which is worse? Is it the sharks because they are by nature evil? Or is it the snakes because they corrupt, because they bring out the evil in others? But aren’t sharks just being themselves? And then again, snakes aren’t technically guilty of anything. At the most they tempt others to do the things that they wanted to do in the first place.”

  “I’m just going to the bathroom.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  “I know you will,” Angie said. She let go of his hands.

  Halfway across the parking lot Paul stopped. He looked over his shoulder. Angie waved. She smiled, broadly. She watched him until he’d gone through the men’s room door.

  Carrying sandwiches wrapped in plastic, Abba, Kent and Richard got into the van. As Lucy paid for the gas, Angie got into the driver’s seat. She started the engine. She waited for Lucy to fasten her seat belt and then she put the van into gear. She drove onto the highway. They were seventeen minutes west of the service station before anyone noticed that the passenger seat was empty.

  “Where’s Paul?” Lucy asked.

  “He’s not a Weird,” Angie said.

  “He kinda is,” she said. “At least, he should be.”

  Angie twisted the mirror until she could see Lucy in it. For several moments they looked at each other. Then Lucy nodded and she looked down and Angie turned the mirror so that no one could see her.

  THE PASSENGER SEAT REMAINED EMPTY and Angie drove as fast as she could. She tried not to look at the clock on the dashboard. Eventually, she did. The blue digital numbers said 8:37 p.m. A very long sigh came out of her. She slowed down and pulled over.

  Gravel crunched under the tires as the van came to a stop on the shoulder. Angie shifted into park, although she kept the engine running. “Is the clock still right?” she asked.

  “Unfortunately,” Richard said. “Three hours fast, but yes, it’s keeping time.”

  “Then how long to Vancouver?”

  “At our present speed?” asked Kent.

  “Or even a little faster?” asked Abba.

  “About two hours and thirty minutes,” Lucy answered. “That’s driving this fast. It’s the best we can do.”

  “And how long do we have?”

  “Two hours and two minutes.”

  “Two hours and one.”

  “Right,” Angie said. She shut off the engine and took out the keys.

  “We can make it!” Abba called.

  “You’re just hoping!” Angie yelled. “It’s not real. You’re saying that because you’re cursed!”

  “As we all are,” Richard said. “As we always will be.”

  An eighteen-wheeler passed. The van shook slightly. Angie got out. She stood by herself on the shoulder. Some kind of black bird flew very high above her. It hovered and then, all at once, it tucked in its wings and dove downwards at a sudden great speed. It was, she knew, at least worth trying. Getting in the passenger door, Angie sat in the seat and dangled the keys towards Kent.

  “No way,” Lucy said.

  “I’d rather be cursed than dead,” Richard said.

  “Really?” Abba asked him.

  “That is a very bad idea.”

  “Does anyone have a better one?”

  “What?” Kent asked, belatedly realizing that he’d become the centre of attention.

  “Kent,” Angie said. She tossed him the keys. He almost caught them. Bending over he picked them up off the floor. Angie waited until he sat back up. “It’s all up to you.”

  “Yes! Fucking yes! I can do this!” Kent said. He crawled between the seats and behind the wheel. He adjusted the chair and the mirrors. Angie buckled her seat belt. Kent pulled onto the highway and they all clutched whatever was closest.

  Kent drove as if he were still the backup quarterback on the high school team, looking for opportunities to pass. Seeing pockets of space that would soon be open, Kent steered towards them. This unnerved Angie, since all she saw were pickup trucks and minivans.

  “Kent …”

  “Just relax.”

  “Kent!”

  “I got it, I see it. I got it.”

  Repeatedly missing front and back bumpers by inches began to overwhelm Angie. She couldn’t remember if the seat belt was supposed to go over her stomach or underneath it. Neither felt right. She knew Paul would have known.

  “Damn it, Kent!” Angie said. “That was close. Really close.”

  “It’s okay,” Kent said. For a second he looked at her. His eyes were confident. He looked like the brother she used to know. “Why don’t you close your eyes for a bit?” he asked. Angie closed her eyes. The van slipped to the left and the right. The swaying continued but her fear of it diminished. Soon she felt like they were in a boat, a tiny boat, like a lifeboat. The motion became soothing, like she was being rocked, and she fell asleep.

  A LACK OF MOVEMENT WOKE Angie up. She opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was a stoplight. She saw that it was red. Then she saw the downtown intersection they were stopped at.

  “We’re in Vancouver? We’re here?” Angie asked.

  “We’re close!” Abba said.

  “Not that close,” Lucy said.

  “Close enough,” Kent said.

  The light turned green. Kent depressed the gas pedal and they were all pushed back in their seats. “Eight minutes,” Abba called. Lucy pointed out the direction of the hospital. Kent cut off a taxi. He turned left in front of a fast-moving cement truck. He ignored the flashing lights of a crosswalk. He ran a yellow light. And then they were in front of the Vancouver and District General Hospital.

  “Where should I park?” he shouted.

  “Six,” Abba said.

  “Right there …” Richard said.

  “But that’s a disabled spot.”

  “So we get towed!”

  “Right, right,” Kent said and with surprising grace he pulled in. Every door of the van opened at once. They ran towards the hospital.

  “Five.”

  “Let’s go! Let’s go!”

  Neither Richard nor Lucy nor Abba nor Kent looked back as they raced towards the automatic doors. Angie was only halfway there as they disappeared through them. Forgiving them instantly, she kept going. When she reached the lobby, they were nowhere to be seen. She pressed the up button. The elevator doors opened immediately. Inside it was quiet. It stopped on the second floor. No one got on. The doors closed. When they opened again Angie stepped onto the fourth floor.

  To her right was a door marked Stairwell #12. From behind it she heard an upward avalanche of footsteps. The door was flung open and they all burst through it.

  “One minute!” Abba called.

  “Angie!”

  “This way,” Angie said. There was a wheelchair beside the elevator. Richard put Angie in it. He pushed her as they ran down the hallway.

  “Thirty seconds.”

  “Which way?”

  “Turn right. It’s up there.”

  Angie held on to the arms of the chair. They ran past orderlies and visitors. They ran as fast as they could.

  “Faster!”

  “That way!”

  “Twenty!”

  The door to Room 4-206 came in sight. Richard’s chest heaved. Sweat poured down Abba’s and Lucy’s faces. They continued running. They ran faster still.

  “Five … four … three …”

  Kent was a step ahead of them. He stretched out his arms towards the open door.

  “Two … one!” Abba said and two seconds later they burst through the doorway and inside their grandmother’s hospital room.

  “You’re la
te,” the Shark said.

  These were her last words. Her eyes rolled back in her head. Her body went limp. The lights in the room dimmed. The television sets lost reception. She fell backwards against the bed. The machine made a high-pitched whine. The Shark’s chest rose and it didn’t fall. Then a red bolt of lightning slowly rose out of it. The bolt stretched up to the ceiling. Then it coiled itself and hovered over her heart. The tip, snake-like, searched left and right and then Richard stepped forwards.

  “Me,” Richard said. He looked over his shoulder at his brother and sisters. “If this doesn’t work, get ready to run.”

  Richard turned back towards the lightning, which was already shooting towards him. It struck his chest. He gasped. He fell to his knees. He put his hands over his heart. And then he crumpled over.

  Kent, Lucy and Abba ran towards the hallway. Abba didn’t make it. The lightning exited through Richard’s back and caught her ankles. It twisted around her legs. It coiled upwards, over her stomach. It covered her face. Then she fell to the floor.

  The lightning shot into the hallway. Lucy had turned left. It caught her, easily. It went straight through her. In mid-air it stopped and it turned around and it struck her again. The lightning went through her six more times, as if she were a button being sewn on a shirt. Lucy fell forwards. She did not put out her hands to break her fall.

  Kent had turned right. He looked over his shoulder and saw it coming. It gained on him, quickly. At the end of the hallway he stopped. He turned around and faced it.

  “Stay the fuck away from me,” Kent screamed. The lightning shot down his throat. His fingers stretched open. He balanced on his toes. Then his body slumped onto the freshly washed floor.

  The lightning turned. It moved slowly through the air. Angie stepped into the hallway. The lightning stopped in front of her. Shades of red, from rust to ruby, shimmered from its tail to its tip. Angie raised her hands. She opened her palms.

  “Please don’t hurt the baby,” Angie said. It darted into her.

  BOOK FOUR:

  The L ove Motel

  PAULETTE’S SHOES REMAINED ON her hands, not her feet, and Angie took a very deep breath. They stayed at opposite ends of the front hallway. Paulette twisted her wrists until the toes of her tiny pink runners were pointed directly at her mother. Angie had planned to be at the daycare by nine. It was now just before ten. The shoe fell from Paulette’s right hand. It bounced on the second-hand carpet. Angie bent her knees until she was eye level with her daughter.