by Joey Comeau
Martin was clean and dry and dressed. He was wearing his nicest button-up shirt today, the white one with pearlized cowboy buttons. He felt ready to see Joan again. He felt like he was at his best. He hoped that she didn’t act different. He liked the way things were before, where everyone acted like themselves. When people fell in love in the movies, they always started acting differently. They acted in love, instead of like themselves. Martin was not going to act in love.
“After chapel we’ll go swimming,” Chip said to them. “Cindy’s cabin is going to come with us. They seem like nice girls, so be on your best behaviour. I want you guys to make me look good today, okay? Don’t embarrass me.”
John Dee couldn’t find his brother. He was in a different cabin than Mitchell, but he hadn’t seen him since last night, and he was starting to get worried. He had walked all over the camp and hadn’t found his brother.
“Hey JD,” Chip said. He was standing right inside the side door when John Dee came into the building. “You find your brother yet?” John Dee shook his head. He didn’t even notice that Chip had called him JD, which he usually hated. Sometimes his father called him John, or JD, but he preferred to be called by both first names.
John Dee wore all black, usually. It made things easier. Everything went with everything else. And it was harder to get the clothes dirty. And, to be honest, it had a slimming effect. Not a lot, but every bit helped.
“I haven’t seen him since yesterday when we got here,” John Dee said.
“The last I saw him he was talking to Father Tony,” Chip told him. “But that was right after everyone got here yesterday. Which cabin is he in?”
“Cabin Four,” John Dee said.
That was the last time he’d seen Mitchell, too. He had seen his brother crying after the priest asked if they had accepted Jesus into their hearts, but he pretended not to notice. It wasn’t his problem if Mitchell wanted to embarrass himself like always. John Dee had gotten up with his friend Gabe and gone to get cake. Mitchell was always crying about something. He was the “sensitive one,” their father told people. He was a pussy, was what he was. But pussy or not, John Dee was getting worried about him.
“I don’t know,” Chip said. He looked at his watch. “You know where Tony’s office is, right? It’s on the top floor, at the end of the hall. See if you can get the evening schedule, too, while you’re over there. We’ll be in the dining room afterward.”
“Is he up there?” John Dee said, and Chip shrugged.
“He usually is. He stays up there until chapel.”
John Dee went past the kitchen and laundry room and he climbed the curving wooden steps up to the second floor. There was nobody around up here and it was dim inside the building. The shades were pulled on the windows upstairs and all of the doors were closed along the hallway. He could hear the other campers laughing and having fun outside. And people were filling up the dining room downstairs, too. Plates were clattering, and forks were scraping. Meanwhile John Dee was stuck here looking for his pussy older brother.
He knocked on the door to Tony’s office. No answer. He knocked again, louder, and there was a muffled sound from inside. Had someone said, “Come in?” John Dee tried the doorknob and it was unlocked. It swung open an inch.
“Hello?” he said through the open door. He pushed the door open wider. “Tony?” he said. “Mitchell?”
The office was brighter than the hallway. The windows were open and the sun shone in. There was a broken phone sitting in the middle of the floor, and the priest’s desk was a mess, but there was nobody here. The room was empty. John Dee stood in the doorway with his hand still on the knob, and then sighed.
He stepped back out into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind him. Why was everything so difficult with Mitchell? He was going to kill him when he found him.
As the camper walked back down the hall away from the office, Father Tony kept his hand clamped over Margaret’s mouth. He had her on her back behind the couch, with his knee pressed into her chest. Her eyes were wild. She tried to twist out from under him, but she wasn’t strong enough. Her shirt lay torn on the floor next to them, split from neck to waist where the priest had cut with the utility knife. The notebook with her mother’s telephone number lay beside the torn shirt.
“Shhh,” Tony whispered, holding the knife to his lips like a single finger. “It’s okay.” Then he reached down and pushed her hair off her face. “Shhh,” he said again.
They stayed like that, listening to John Dee creak his way back down the hallway, and then he smiled.
“That was a close one,” he said. “Although I got kind of excited at the idea of killing him, too, I don’t mind telling you.”
He pushed his knee into her chest harder, shifting his weight until he felt her sternum break with a soft pop. His knee sank a bit deeper into her. Then he took his hand off her mouth and she drew a long, shallow breath, trying to fill her lungs. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Breathe,” Tony said. He smiled encouragingly.
She was reaching out for her notebook. She needed to call her mother.
“That’s it,” he said. “You’re doing good. Breathe.”
Martin,
Hey kiddo, eye miss you.
Toronto is huge, and I wish you were here to see it with me. I found out this morning that every hour one subway train randomly goes off course and carries a load of passengers into a set of abandoned tunnels beneath the city. It goes down and down, deeper and deeper until it reaches a series of crypts. Nobody seems to know who built these subterranean crypts. But the subway brings a random trainload of people and dumps them out to fend for themselves down there. One of the assistant directors on Blood Socket 2 told me that it was to feed the city, like a blood sacrifice to keep Toronto happy. But the key hair on the movie told me it was just to keep the population under control. Needless to say, I’ve been taking the subway everywhere I go.
Everyone here is really mean to each other, and so people get surprised when I smile at them on the street and say hello. They act like I’m completely insane, raving at them and foaming from my mouth. I met a man from Uganda just this morning, when I was walking home. I smiled and said hello, and he looked at me like I had asked him what his hair tasted like.
He turned out to be nice, though. He was just surprised. He told me that he had lived in a lot of cities, but Toronto was the only city he felt alone in. He asked me where I was from, and I told him that I lived with my son in Halifax. He loved Halifax, he said. He told me all about his trips to the Maritimes, and finally deciding to study there. He studied music at Dalhousie. It’s a small world, I guess. Anyway, before he left he told me that I should leave Toronto and never come back. He said it very seriously, like an ominous warning.
And the buildings here are so big, Martin. One of them looks like it’s made out of gold. There is actually gold in the glass. What a strange thing! I wonder what it’s like inside. I think the secret council of Toronto must live in there, but what kind of secret council would base their operations in a huge gold building? Not very subtle. No, it’s probably just another bank.
It feels like you’re in a movie sometimes, when you walk around downtown. And there’s a whole other city underground. There are subways screaming and wailing underneath you all the time, and there’s a mall down there that stretches for blocks and blocks under the city. In my head I picture it as being the exact same as the city up here, only with the skyscrapers hanging downward toward the centre of the earth. Maybe down there they have a happy CN Tower, glowing blue and singing in the night. Up here the blood spire just wails and screams, and still nobody notices. I guess you get used to it after a while.
Anyway, the big city is a bit overwhelming for a small-town girl, you know? But I haven’t been murdered yet, so that’s good. I’ve just been working. Work work work.
But today I’m going to make a human heart that
keeps beating after the monster takes it out of someone’s rib cage, so I guess there are worse jobs to have. I hope that you’re making friends and not causing too much trouble. Maybe you’ll even have a tan the next time I see you. Have you met any nice girls? (Or boys? You know I will love you no matter if you’re gay or straight, right, Martin? I’ve told you that, haven’t I? In fact, I would probably love you a little more if you were gay.)
Write me back soon.
Love always,
Your Mother.
After chapel, John Dee followed Father Tony. Mitchell hadn’t been in any of the pews at chapel, either. That was the last place he could think to look. Unless his brother was out in the woods somewhere. The inside of the chapel was big, with a tall echoing ceiling, and John Dee had sat there the whole time, just worrying. The other campers had their Bibles open and were reading along with the priest. Mitchell was definitely missing, and Tony was the last person to see him. So John Dee followed him after the morning chapel, pushing through the clumps of other campers on the path through the woods, trying to catch up.
Tony was fast though, and he disappeared around a curve in the path while John Dee was still struggling along. When he finally did get to the head of the crowd, he ran down the path after the priest.
Tony was standing in front of the tuck shop, just beside the path. He was laughing and talking with the woman who sold the chocolate bars and candy and drinks. His black shirt and pants were crisp and ironed and his priest collar was bright white. The tuck shop woman looked messy in comparison.
“Can I help you?” the tuck shop woman said, but John Dee shook his head and looked at the priest.
“Have you seen my brother, Mitchell?” he said, and Tony patted his hand on the tuck shop counter as a goodbye to the woman. Then he motioned for John Dee to follow him and headed up toward the cabins.
“I have indeed seen Mitchell,” he said. “You’re his brother, John Dee? Chip told me that you were looking for me. I just sent someone looking for you, actually. Your brother Mitchell is up at the main building. He’s been there since this morning. He’s having a hard time with camp, I think. I’m sure you know how sensitive your brother can be?” He smiled at John Dee, who didn’t nod. “I tried to calm him down and reassure him, but there’s only so much I can do. I don’t think that camp life agrees with him. Fair enough, I suppose,” Tony put his hand on John Dee’s shoulder. “Not everyone is cut out for the outdoors, John. Personally, I think modern life has made people too delicate. We don’t get out and appreciate God’s work as often as we should any more. Look at how beautiful this is.” He gestured around them. “God’s handiwork, John, and we view it as a nuisance.” He laughed. “People are ridiculous,” he said, and he laughed a bit harder. “We’re a part of nature, too, you know. You can cut a person down with an axe just as easily as a tree.” He made a chopping motion with both hands. “Chop chop chop!” he said, but John Dee just stared at him. Tony cleared his throat, and his face got more serious. “But I digress,” he said.
“Mitchell is at the main building?” John Dee said. “I was just up there, I didn’t see him.”
“I let him use the phone in the janitor’s office,” Tony said. “He’s in the basement. He was upset. I thought maybe it would be embarrassing for him if the other campers saw him crying. I think he stayed down there to wait for your father.”
“Oh,” John Dee nodded. Of course he’d called their father. Fucking Mitchell. “So he’s going home?”
He was going to be stuck here by himself now, while Mitchell went home to video games and air conditioning and Internet. All because Mitchell was such a pussy.
“You both are,” Tony said. “Your father thought it would be best. Do you think you could fetch your bags, and Mitchell’s, from your cabins, and bring them up to the main building?” He smiled. “Everyone will be doing their morning activities, so you don’t have to worry about anyone seeing Mitchell crying. Your dad’ll be here soon. I’ll just get some things ready and I’ll meet you up there,” Father Tony said.
The priest seemed almost excited that their father was coming.
CHAPTER NINE
Martin held Joan’s hand, even after they stopped walking. Melissa and Courtney hadn’t said anything else about the kiss, and Martin didn’t plan on bringing it up. Everything seemed pretty normal. And normal was nice, right now. They were following around one of the counsellors, Jackie, as she demonstrated how to use the playground equipment. This should have been boring, but Jackie was incredibly clumsy, and it was a lot funnier than it had any right to be.
“Oh god,” Melissa said. “I hope she does the Flying Fox. Oh, I hope she does the Flying Fox next.”
The counsellor, Jackie, was sitting on a swing, getting some speed up.
“I know everybody probably knows how to use a swing,” she said. “But these are perfectly placed so that you can jump to the grass if you get enough speed. Check it out,” and she pumped her legs on last time, swinging backward in a strong arc and then forward.
Martin clutched Joan’s hand. Jackie was going to hurt herself. He could feel it.
But she didn’t. Instead, her arm got caught in the swing chain, and when she tried to jump, she just slipped down off the seat before it dragged her backwards, ass in the dirt. Everyone laughed and clapped, and Jackie jumped back to her feet, grinning.
“Okay,” she said. “That wasn’t exactly what I meant. My arm got caught on the chain there, I think.” She was examining the chain as though trying to figure out what had happened. Martin did the same thing when he was embarrassed sometimes.
“Oh, what’s that?” Courtney said, loudly. She pointed over to where the Flying Fox stretched across the playing field.
“That’s the Flying Fox!” Jackie said.
“The Flying Fox?” Courtney was trying to sound curious, but she was a terrible actor.
Jackie, however, didn’t notice. She led the group over to the taller post, where the handle sat waiting for someone to grab it.
“The Flying Fox is the oldest piece of equipment here,” Jackie said. “When I first came here five years ago, all this was different. We didn’t have a swing or slides. There was no jungle gym. All we had was the Flying Fox.”
“Show us!” Courtney said, and Melissa elbowed her in the ribs. But both girls were grinning.
Martin looked over, but Joan was just watching, like always. It was impossible to figure out what she was thinking. But he wanted Melissa and Courtney to like him, too.
“Show us how fast it goes!” he said, and Courtney nodded.
“Yeah!” she said. “How fast can it go? It looks exciting.”
“It is exciting,” Jackie said. “It’s my favourite. And all you have to do to use it is pull the handle up to this end with the rope. See how it slides along the wire?” She grabbed the handle and moved it back and forth on the taut wire. “Then you just hold on for dear life, and try not to scream,” she said.
“Show us!” Courtney said.
“Show us!” Martin said.
Martin!
Here’s a picture of the beating heart. It’s not beating in the picture, because that isn’t how pictures work. But trust me when I say that it is beating in real life. If I had the time, I would devise some kind of perpetual battery, something that could charge itself again and again with the movement of the Earth, that would run until the end of the universe, and I would use it to power this heart. Imagine, a heart beating forever. Without a body, just sitting in a glass display in some giant gold bank, like a piece of corporate art? It’s the saddest immortality ever.
I wouldn’t really love you more if you were gay. That was just a joke. I would love you the same either way. I tried to call the camp this morning. I had a fake emergency all made up, a reason why I needed to speak with you. I was going to tell them that I’d forgotten the code to our giant floor safe, and all of the diamonds wer
e inside and I had to pay a ransom. You were the only other person who knew the combination. I think they would have bought it. I just wanted to hear your voice for a minute. To make you laugh. I’m not used to being so far away from you. But I couldn’t get through. The phone just rang and rang, so I assume you were all out having fun in the sunshine, getting tans and learning how to start forest fires.
That old man ghost called back, this morning. The phone ring sounded like clanking chains.
“Hello?” I said.
“Hello, can you hear me?”
It was Charlie, that ghost I told you about.
“You don’t have to ask that every time,” I told him. “Of course I can hear you.”
“Have you seen Mitchie?”
“Your dog?”
“He wandered off again. He’s about as smart as he is handsome, I’m afraid.”
“I haven’t seen him,” I told him. “But I could help you look? What floor are you staying on in the hotel?”
“Oh, they have us on the fourteenth floor,” Charlie said. “Mitchie’s blind. He’s probably stuck somewhere in a corner with that sheet over his head. They make us wear sheets over our heads. There’s no need of that, but they do. They make us wear sheets and drag around chains like we’re Marley and Marley.”
“You know it’s actually the thirteenth floor,” I said. “They always skip the thirteenth floor, and name it fourteen. But does that make it any less cursed? I mean, if I slapped an old witchy woman in the face, or refused to give her a bank loan, and she cursed me, I don’t think just changing my name would get me out of it, do you?”
“He’s blind,” Charlie said. “He gets stuck in corners sometimes. But he’s my friend, and we need each other. I think he’s been sad here. The other people in the hotel never talk to us. They don’t pet him, or say hello in those obnoxious baby talk voices that perk his ears right up. There are no little girls here. He loves little girls.”
“There must be little girls here,” I said. “If this is where the dead go. Little girls die all the time. It’s part of life’s charm.”
