“It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.” Pulling Dugan to him in a close embrace, he whispered quietly in his ear, “I’m sorry about your dad.”
Dugan thanked him and then confessed that there was one more thing he had left to do. He headed over to Andy’s house. He walked down the street in what felt like a narcotic haze, noticing for the first time that every single home had been festooned with necklaces of garlic—Jimmy’s work, no doubt. He smiled with the certainty that his friend had also liberally sprinkled an invisible barrier of holy water in front of and behind each house.
Just as he raised his hand to knock on Andy’s front door, he heard a car pull up behind him. He turned around and saw the State Police cruiser come to a stop in front of Larry’s house. Dugan cringed when he saw that a Grantham police car had followed it. Although he didn’t recognize the Grantham cop, he couldn’t help but wonder if the State Police were also investigating the dead body found in the Grantham police station. He doubted it.
The cops got out of their respective vehicles and began walking slowly toward Larry’s house. They were in no hurry at all. Dugan lowered his hand from Andy’s door and turned around to walk back to his own empty house. Before he was halfway there, his body was wracked with sobs. Walking inside, he threw himself down on his father’s couch. He wasn’t in his house more than five minutes when the phone rang. Picking it up, he heard Andy’s voice. She said she had a stupid question for him, but did Alex happen to be over there with him?
He dropped the phone to his side for a moment before raising it again to say he would be right over. When he got there, her parents were frantic. He could see immediately that the house had been turned upside down. Dugan heard the baby crying from somewhere, but nobody paid it any mind. All thoughts were on the missing Alex. Dugan took Andy out back underneath the deck and began to tell her all about it.
She began shaking her head no, no, no. She told him he was crazy. They would find him. They just needed to keep looking. When he told her that Alex was gone, she slapped him. As he was recoiling from the sting, they heard a woman scream from somewhere in the front of the house. Andy ran out front. Dugan followed and reached his arm around her as they watched Andy’s mother run across the street in her bathrobe. She wanted to get the attention of the cops that Dugan knew were only at Larry’s house to tell his parents that their son was dead, and all of this was his fault. Andy slipped away from his grasp, running across the street to grab hold of her mother and try to comfort her.
Their anguished screams and cries followed Dugan as he walked up the street back over to Moon’s house, and he heard them still echoing in his ears as he walked down into the basement. He looked around for a moment and then saw them stuffed into a corner. Walking over, he selected the largest of the knapsacks and dragged it over to the couch. He sat down and looked inside it before zipping the bag up tight. When he looked up, he saw the eyes of all of his friends upon him. He turned his head and looked Jimmy in the eye.
“I’m ready now,” he said. Jimmy nodded.
Dugan stood and bent down to pick up the knapsack when something caught his eye. He walked over to the back wall where the decrepit croquet set was rotting away. He paused a moment before pulling the blue mallet out of the rack. It had been Larry’s favorite color. He walked back over to the couch, hefted the knapsack on one shoulder and began walking toward the door.
“Wait for me,” Jimmy said, stopping Dugan in his tracks. He joined Dugan a moment later and the two left the house together. They walked down the street past a number of houses before Dugan turned into Mrs. Skin’s. They stepped over three weeks’ worth of newspapers to find that the front door was open. The two walked into the house and cringed at the smell. After they looked around for a while, Dugan found her under the bed. He grabbed her by her bare feet and pulled her out. She was naked from the waist up, and her breasts flopped against her chest, but Dugan was beyond all that now. Jimmy reached into his bag and retrieved a stake. After he placed it dead center between her breasts, Dugan swung the mallet with all his might. Her eyes opened and she began to thrash and moan, as her own or someone else’s crimson arterial blood geysered five feet into the air before subsiding. After only a few more moments, all was quiet.
They went next door to the Wilsons’ where they found the couple sleeping atop one another in a large Jacuzzi bath. This time it was Dugan holding the stake and Jimmy who swung the mallet. He swung it so hard that the single stake went through them both. Most of the blood remained conveniently inside the bathtub. Kneeling beside the tub and watching as their convulsions subsided, Dugan looked up suddenly and caught Jimmy in the eye. The boys stared at each other for a moment until Jimmy nodded once toward Dugan in tacit acknowledgement of the new covenant they shared. A covenant of blood. The brotherhood of murder. Reaching down with his blood-spattered hand, Jimmy helped Dugan stand.
As they had done at Mrs. Skin’s, before leaving they pulled all of the shades and curtains from every window to let the sunshine in. Although Dugan took no special joy from any of it, after they did in Mr. Harper he couldn’t help remembering what a stiff he’d been and thought guiltily for a moment that he’d had it coming. Putting those thoughts out of his mind, he accompanied Jimmy from house to house along his newspaper route and killed off his longtime customers one at a time. After finishing with the houses at the far end, they walked back up toward the Korner.
Jimmy kicked in the door and walked over to the cooler where they kept the sodas. As he opened the glass door, he couldn’t help but notice the strong stench that mingled with the foggy coolness rushing from within. He closed the door and took a moment to run the can along his sweaty forehead. Spattered blood ran down his face like war paint. He opened the can and took a long gulp, then passed it over to Dugan. He turned around and went back into the cooler for a minute, emerging covered in a fresh coat of blood.
While they were still in the Korner store, they saw the police cruisers pulling out of Applewood. They ducked down behind the counter to let them pass. Jimmy turned to Dugan and smiled.
“This’d be kinda hard to explain, huh?”
They waited a few more minutes before they dared leave the store. After running out of stakes around noon, they began to improvise. They walked over to the dairy farm sometime after 2:00 and it was there they found and killed Moon’s mother. Afterwards, the two silently agreed it was enough for one day. With their empty knapsacks, they returned to Moon’s house.
As the blood brothers entered the basement, they heard audible gasps come from their friends in reaction to their grisly appearance. After collapsing onto a sofa, Dugan looked away when Moon turned his big face toward the two of them. But Jimmy was strong. He told Moon his mother was now at peace.
Jimmy and Dugan took turns in the shower. Moon found some of his father’s old clothes for them to wear. When they were cleaned up, they went back down into the basement and saw their friends’ ashen faces. Mike cried alone on the couch. Through his sobs, he told them that Larry had been found. A hunter had come across his body early that morning, calling it in to the state cops. After allowing his friends a few minutes to grieve, Jimmy stood up.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Startled by the tone of his voice, Dugan slowly raised his head. For the first time in his memory, he saw Jimmy openly and unashamedly weeping. Dugan stood up and walked over to him, putting his arm around his friend’s shoulder. Moon and Mike came over too. Artie and the others sat quietly, not sure what to say, not really part of the strong bond that tied the younger ones together. Jimmy got control of himself after a moment and he and Dugan clutched each other as they walked up the stairs in the ill-fitting clothes. It was around 4:00 when Mike led them down the stairs and into his father’s mortuary.
Mike went in first and was surprised to see Larry already inside the closed casket. But on the other hand, his father’s business hadn’t exactly been brisk lately. After motioning his friends into the room, Mike a
nd Jimmy walked together up to the casket.
From the back of the room, although he was looking away, Dugan heard the creak of hinges opening. After another moment of eerie silence, he looked up and saw Jimmy moving slowly backwards, away from the casket, lowering the unused stake and mallet he had brought with him.
“It’s okay,” Jimmy said after a moment. His voice trailed off when he added, “He’s not one of them, I mean.”
Dugan felt his legs begin to give. Moon noticed and came over quickly to help his friend stay on his feet.
“Dugan. You gotta see this,” Jimmy said.
No I don’t, Dugan thought. He caused this. All of it. No matter how much Jimmy and his friends tried to make him feel better, he knew that he alone was the reason Larry lay dead in that box across the room. Jimmy called out to him again.
“It’s okay, Dugan, really. You gotta see this.”
Dugan had no idea what the hell he was talking about, but his legs began moving. As he approached the casket, he saw Larry’s nose appear first, and then more of him. His friends backed away silently to give Dugan a moment alone with his friend.
Dugan almost smiled when he thought that for a dead guy, Larry looked pretty good. He was wearing his sharp blue suit. His hands had been folded across his chest and his jet black hair had never looked so neat, held down by a full bottle of gel, no doubt. Mr. Dollof had done a real good job. As he turned his head and looked at Larry’s face, Dugan saw what Jimmy was talking about.
Larry had about the most shit-eating grin on his face that Dugan had ever seen. It was the same look he got when he’d heard a really good joke that he couldn’t wait to let everyone in on. Dugan felt a stab in his heart when he realized that, whatever it might have been that was so funny, he’d never hear that joke. Having seen enough, he turned away from the casket.
But when he began to hear the creak of the hinges closing, he shouted, “Wait.” He turned around to take one last look at Larry.
“Take his glasses off,” he told Mike. “He hated those things.”
Jimmy turned and smiled at Dugan through his tears. Mike reached in and removed Larry’s glasses. They all took one last look at their friend before Mike shut the casket. Dugan lost it entirely after Mike reached over and handed him the glasses. All his friends walked over to comfort him.
It was after 5:00 when Dugan finally excused himself. He had some things to do, after all. He had to go and comfort the parents of his dead best friend—whose death he had caused—before going over to his girlfriend’s house to explain why she’d never see her younger brother again, and oh, by the way, that was his fault too. After that, he figured maybe he’d go home and mourn his dead father for a while. It was just another day in the life of Scotty Dugan, he thought, a halfway normal kid who happened to live in a town that failed miserably to live up to its motto.
6
The night visitor
After being alone in his house for a half hour or so, Dugan began to nod off sometime around 11:30. Jimmy had left the house around 11:00, after coming by to update Dugan about what was going on. Jimmy told him that during the afternoon, Tony and Artie had driven over to the vocational school to replenish the dwindling supply of stakes. Both of them had returned safely. Mark and Brian went over to Rosemont to continue the bloody work that Jimmy and Dugan had begun earlier in the day. Only a shaken Mark had returned. The only comment Mark would make about his missing friend was to alert them all in a flat monotone that Holy Water didn’t work. Finally, Jimmy said that Moon and Mike had worked tirelessly on their special project and Dugan should come over to check out their progress. They would be done with it before the night was over.
Dugan sat and listened quietly to his friend report the latest news, surprised to discover that he was beyond caring about any of it. He had seen and done too much now to believe there was any hope left for any of them. They were all as good as dead, and it was probably about time for somebody to admit it, if only to themselves.
When he got no reaction from Dugan, Jimmy went on to say that he had stopped by Larry’s house to pay his respects. There would be a private memorial service here in town on Tuesday morning, and after that, Larry and his parents would journey up to Maine for a family funeral. He would be buried in the family plot, a stone’s throw from the sea and his beloved summer home.
That was good, Dugan thought. Probably better than any of the rest of them could hope for. Jimmy and Dugan sat for a while in the dark sunroom lost in their own thoughts, until Dugan finally broke his silence.
“What did you guys mean that day up at the quarry?”
His voice was still raspy from the previous evening and had a faraway quality to it that scared Jimmy. But at least he was talking.
“Whaddya mean?” Jimmy asked, looking over at his friend. Dugan rephrased his question. “That day last summer. I told you about Harris wearing my clothes. You said he wanted to be like me and then asked me if I got it. You and Larry both did. What did you guys mean?”
Jimmy sat back a while to compose his answer. Even through the darkness, Dugan saw Jimmy’s pale face scrunch up the way it always did when he thought too hard.
“Harris wanted to be like you because we all want to be like you, man, all of us. Don’t you see that? Larry, me, Moon, Mike, we all want to be more like you.” He paused a moment and then went on. “You don’t seem to know it yet, but you got a lot to offer. You know you’re the best friend I ever had, right? And that you were Larry’s best friend too? Doesn’t that stuff mean anything to you?” Jimmy was silent for a while after that before he continued. “And I think that together, we can somehow figure out a way to get through all this, but not without you, that’s for sure. We won’t make it without you. We need you, man!”
A few minutes later, he reached over and brushed Dugan’s knee before standing up and telling him to come by Moon’s house when he felt up to it.
After Jimmy left the house, Dugan sat there a while thinking about what his friend had said. Funny, he thought, he had always wanted to be more like them. Jimmy had his jock-like ways and blond good looks. Larry had a sense of humor and his music. What did he have? A dead mother that he still talked to. A stupid job that got him up every day at friggin’ 4:30 in the morning. As he sat alone in his dead father’s sunroom, mulling over what Jimmy had said, he still didn’t get it. But maybe that was the whole point.
Dugan got up from the couch a few minutes later, knowing somehow that one way or the other, this was going be his last night in the house. He left the sunroom and walked down the hall and up the stairs to collapse in his own bed for the last time. But as exhausted as he was, he lay awake a while, unable to sleep, still pondering what Jimmy had told him. He drifted in and out of consciousness and then dreamed about sailboats drifting lazily across Boston Harbor on a beautiful summer day.
* * *
Dugan slept on in his usual position, all twisted up, with his right arm bent impossibly around behind his back, and left leg tucked sharply underneath his stomach like he was prepared to spring up out of bed on a moment’s notice. He didn’t know what time it was or what had awakened him, but it was still dark out when he half opened one eye and saw someone sitting in the chair beside his bed. He smiled, remembering the night his father had come into his room to ask if he shaved yet, and as he opened his eyes a little more he began to smell the hint of a mild funk, like a bowl of fruit that had just begun to turn.
The figure in the chair was silhouetted in the light that drifted into his bedroom from the hallway, and it was only another moment before Dugan recognized the trademark slouch. He had seen it often enough, sitting across from him in the library, neither of them wanting to be the first to break the ice. Michael Harris has come for a visit, he thought. He had taken Dugan up on his open invitation to stop by at any time. Dugan flinched and drew himself back on his bed in a half sitting position, banging his head against his headboard before opening his eyes completely. Through the darkness he saw Harris’
new eyes, his yellow gray wolves’ eyes. The two of them just stared at each other a while before Dugan began to laugh at the absurdity of it.
“Hey,” he said. After another moment, Harris returned his greeting.
“Hey.”
Dugan thought his voice sounded different, deeper somehow.
“How you doin’?” Dugan asked. He realized immediately what a really stupid question that was. But when Harris began to chuckle, Dugan couldn’t help but laugh too.
“I been better,” Harris answered before his laughter drifted away. The two stared at each other for a while lost in their own thoughts. Dugan couldn’t help himself.
“What’s it like?” he asked. He wasn’t sure how much time passed before Harris answered him in a flat, dead voice.
“It’s hard to describe. Hunger would be a good word. You’re hungry all the time. And thirsty, like an in-the-desert kind of thirsty.”
He paused a moment before continuing. “It’s kind of like all the questions you ever have get answered, but the answers you get only lead to more and even harder questions that can never be answered. And you know you’re gonna have a long time to think about them, an eternity.”
He added, “Or there’s this girl that you really like and know you can never have, or this person that you admire and want really bad to be friends with but you never had the stones to tell them.” He paused again. “It really sucks.” Neither Dugan nor Harris laughed.
“Can you help us?” Dugan asked after a while. Harris’ yellow wolf eyes moved from side to side as he answered.
“No can do. It don’t work that way. Even if it did, I don’t think I’m strong enough yet. There’s a kind of…a gestation period of some sort, I guess. Somethin’ is goin’ on though, some kind of power struggle. I think someone even knows that I’m here tonight, and for some reason, someone else is lettin’ it happen. I can tell ya this though, you hurt ‘em real bad today.”
Applewood (Book 1) Page 21
