Running Man

by Michael Gerard Bauer

  ‘Joseph!’ Mrs Davidson gasped.

  Mrs Mossop rose unsteadily from her seat. Her thin frame towered over Joseph like an avenging angel. ‘I know things,’ she said with awful power, ‘that I hope you could not even imagine. By God I do. I know how people can appear one thing and be the opposite. I know how they can deceive and how children can be taken from their toys and ribbons to filthy, awful places they don’t want to go. And I know what it’s like to be alone and to hear words like love and secret and special girl when you don’t want to be anyone’s special girl … you don’t … you just … you just …’

  Mrs Mossop’s face fell in on itself like a child’s and a terrible, tortured voice rose from some hidden pit of sorrow within her. ‘Don’t you ever tell me I don’t know. Don’t you ever! I know,’ she wept piteously, ‘every day of my life. I know. I’ll always know.’

  Joseph’s mother reached across and placed her hand around Mrs Mossop’s wrist. ‘Géraldine?’

  Mrs Mossop broke free, bustled from the kitchen and fled out the back door followed by Laura Davidson calling anxiously from behind.

  That night the Running Man dream came back to haunt Joseph. Once again he was running in fear as his school bag dragged on his shoulders. Once again the footpath melted into sand and his legs sank deeper and ached with pain as the shadow of the Running Man closed in on him. Once again he spun round to face his fear and make it all stop. Only this time it didn’t end, and the face he saw wasn’t the Running Man’s but the warped and leering face of Tom Leyton laughing down at him.

  ‘There’s always something worse!’ he grinned obscenely and lunged at Joseph.

  Then he was running again, with hard ground once more beneath his feet. Joseph closed his eyes and listened to the wind whistling past his ears. He was moving fast, almost flying. Suddenly he hit what felt like a wall of pillows and he knew that it was Mr Cousins come to save him. He felt broad, strong arms curling around his back and he laid his face against Mr Cousins’ barrel stomach and breathed in the thick aroma of bread and ham and lollies.

  Then the dream changed again, and when Joseph moved his face it brushed against the serrated edges of mulberry leaves. Mr Cousins was covered in mulberry leaves. The arms around his back tightened painfully. Joseph opened his eyes and jerked his head up to see Tom Leyton’s face twisted in mock sorrow.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, pushing his bottom lip forward like an upset child. ‘I’m so, so, sorry.’

  Joseph strained against Tom Leyton’s arms and they broke away from his shoulders and tumbled to the ground, only they weren’t arms but branches, and now the leaves that had covered Tom Leyton’s body began to fall away as well. Underneath his skin was black and sleek and his face was no longer that of a man but the cold menacing snout of a reptile. Joseph staggered backwards. The ground was covered with mulberry leaves. As he backed away they became deeper. They were dry and brown and they rustled up to his neck.

  Tom Leyton’s hard scaly face rotated robotically till one piercing eye glinted at Joseph. Then, without warning, he plunged like a giant black lizard beneath the leaves. Joseph froze in horror, as below the surface, the creature shuffled towards him.

  It took all his strength for Joseph to tear himself from the nightmare and sit up wide-eyed and panting in his bed. When his breathing steadied, he looked across at Leytons’ house. Everything was quiet and bathed in shadows. Joseph fell back on to his pillow and stared at the ceiling. Only one thought occupied his mind as he drifted into an uneasy sleep. Even if he managed to escape Tom Leyton in his dreams, he would still be there in the morning when he awoke.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Joseph had a difficult time persuading his mother to let him meet with Tom Leyton the following morning.

  ‘But I said I was coming over,’ Joseph argued.

  ‘I know, Joseph, but I’m worried. You heard what Mrs Mossop said.’

  ‘But it didn’t prove anything, and anyway, Caroline will be there, she’s always there. It will be fine, really.’

  Mrs Davidson gave her son a tired, exasperated look. ‘I don’t want anything to happen to you,’ she said wearily. ‘If your father was here there would be no way he would let you go.’

  ‘But he’s not here, is he? He’s never here,’ Joseph said, a little too bitterly. He added more calmly, ‘Look, Mum, Tom Leyton’s never done or said anything wrong and you’re always telling me not to judge people too quickly and not to listen to rumours. You know what Mrs Mossop is like.’

  “That poor woman has a right to be suspicious of people – it’s a wonder that she trusts anyone.’ Laura Davidson closed her eyes and shook her head.

  ‘I just want to help him with the rest of his books, that’s all,’ Joseph continued, more reasonably. ‘He’s still not better – he can’t do it by himself – and I said I’d help. And I need to finish my drawing too – for school. Come on, Mum, please. It’ll be all right, I promise. Please?’

  As Joseph walked slowly across the Leytons’ lawn he felt a little guilty for not being totally honest with his mother about his reasons for wanting to see Tom Leyton again. It had nothing to do with books or drawing. He just had to find out for himself whether what Mrs Mossop had said was true or not. However, by the time Joseph had climbed the stairs to the back landing, the thought of having to confront Tom Leyton filled him with dismay.

  ‘Hi Joseph, come in. Tom’s just downstairs. He’ll be up in a minute. Go on in. I’ll let him know you’re here.’ Caroline smiled warmly and turned to go, but spun around almost immediately. ‘Oh, and before I forget, I’m going away for a few days, down the coast. Got an invitation from a friend of mine to stay with her. I tried to convince Tom to come, but no luck. Anyway, I’m driving down late this afternoon and will be back on Wednesday morning. So, if you wanted to call in after school on Wednesday, that would be fine.’

  ‘OK,’ Joseph said simply. Once again it was understood that while Caroline was away he would not visit alone with her brother.

  ‘All right, I’ll get Tom, and then I’d better start waxing my board,’ she said, spreading her hands and steadying herself as if she was riding a wave.

  Joseph was sitting solemnly on the window bench when Tom Leyton returned carrying a small stack of books.

  He nodded shyly at Joseph and placed his load on the desk. ‘I remembered these and thought we might as well add them to the others.’

  The man glanced around, but Joseph avoided his eyes, merely nodding his head without speaking.

  ‘There are quite a few more eggs now,’ Tom Leyton offered, and held out the cardboard box to Joseph.

  Joseph took the box and held it on his lap, looking at the moths and eggs half-heartedly. Tom Leyton observed the boy, quietly waiting for a response. When none came he moved closer and sat facing him on the edge of the bed. ‘Is everything all right?’

  Joseph tried hard to think of some way to reply. He stared into the cardboard box for answers but found none.

  ‘Joseph?’

  The boy raised his head slowly and looked into the dark eyes he had tried so hard to understand. ‘Why did you stop teaching?’

  The words hung like a stench in the room.

  ‘I explained that,’ Tom Leyton answered without emotion. ‘I was unwell. I had to stop. It was too much for me after Vietnam.’

  Joseph went back to looking at the moths.

  Tom Leyton knew his reply was not enough. ‘Why did you need to ask me again?’

  ‘I heard another story.’

  Tom Leyton shifted on the bed and looked around the room before returning to Joseph. ‘Well, what did Mrs Mossop have to say?’

  ‘That there was a boy.’

  Tom Leyton looked like a man who had been given poison.

  ‘She said they made you leave … because of the boy. She said you were holding him and wouldn’t let go. She spoke to people who were there and saw you.’

  ‘I did nothing wrong, I swear. It was a misunderstanding. I wasn
’t well. You must believe me,’ Tom Leyton pleaded. ‘I didn’t harm that boy. I would never lie to you. Please tell me you believe me.’

  Joseph looked at him and knew that he was speaking the truth. ‘I do … I do believe you,’ he said, as a wave of relief surged over him. ‘I told her she was wrong. I knew you wouldn’t do anything bad. I said you could never hurt a little boy. You wouldn’t hurt anyone …’

  Joseph faltered as Tom Leyton avoided his eyes. ‘What’s wrong? You said you didn’t do anything to that boy.’

  ‘I frightened him, that’s all, but I didn’t mean to and I didn’t harm him in any way,’ came the hoarse reply.

  A vague doubt slowly took shape in Joseph’s mind. He looked at the man before him, with his head bowed as if awaiting execution. Joseph could not avoid the question that he didn’t want to ask. ‘And you wouldn’t ever hurt anyone? You haven’t ever …’

  Tom Leyton opened his mouth to speak and looked at Joseph as if a spear had been thrust through his heart. ‘Joseph … I …’

  The boy stared in growing alarm at the twisted, distorted face before him. Just say no, he thought to himself, and I will believe you. Say no. I’ll believe you. Just say no! The words built in Joseph’s head until he wanted to shake Tom Leyton and scream them at him.

  ‘Joseph … I would never hurt you,’ Tom Leyton cried, and reached out with his hand.

  Joseph recoiled from his touch. The shoebox on his lap tumbled upside down to the floor.

  Tom Leyton knelt and with shaking hands tipped the shoebox back upright. All but one of the moths had held firmly to the inside of the container. The exception, the first moth to hatch, lay stiff and dead on the thin carpet.

  Once again Tom Leyton’s hand reached forward. ‘Joseph, please …’

  ‘Get away from me!’ Joseph hissed as he spun from the room and bolted from the house.

  When he arrived home Joseph slid quietly into his room to avoid his mother’s eyes. He pulled the portrait of Tom Leyton from his noticeboard and sat down angrily at his desk. As the tears began to blur his sight he snatched up a pencil and held it menacingly over the picture. He drew with hard brutal sweeps that blackened the eyes and cast half the face in heavy shadow. The delicate subtle lines that made up the original sketch were now crude and brutish and the image was warped and misshapen. When he finally put down the pencil, Joseph was staring into the eyes of a devil.

  It was close to midnight, long after his mother had gone to bed, that Joseph saw the last light in their neighbours’ house go out. As he walked across Leytons’ lawn towards the stairs he recalled his first visit and the feeling of foreboding that had engulfed him. Now he felt only numb with emptiness. At the top of the stairs he opened out the portrait of Tom Leyton, slipped one edge under the bottom of the door and pushed it in.

  The dark face slid easily inside like a fiend.

  Laura Davidson had fretted over the silence that had consumed her son since his return from the Leytons’ the previous day, but as she waved him off to school on Monday morning, she was left with only a shrug and mumbled assurances that everything was fine.

  For Joseph, the world seemed suddenly sour and empty. School was a distraction, but it held no interest for him. At home in his room that night, he tried to imagine Tom Leyton finding the portrait under his door. He had wanted to hurt him, to show the man his anger and his pain, but somehow when he thought of Tom Leyton confronting that dark image, it gave him no pleasure. He wished that there were some way to take back what he had done.

  It was the following day, when Joseph arrived home from school hot and irritable, that he found Tom Leyton’s message in the mailbox. The plain envelope had his name printed neatly on the front. Inside was a single sheet of notepaper with the words, ‘Please come and see me,’ written on it. Below were the initials ‘T.L.’.

  That night Joseph told his mother that he was feeling tired and went to bed early. He waited patiently in the darkness until he heard the television in the living room being switched off and windows being latched shut. The house slowly settled into silence and Joseph let another hour pass before he decided that it was safe to venture from his room.

  He didn’t really know if what he was doing was right or wrong – in fact he didn’t even want to think about it at all. He just knew that he had to see Tom Leyton, had to meet him face to face, not hide behind a silly drawing like a scared child. He knew also that Caroline would not be there, and for the first time he and Tom Leyton would be alone.

  The night was still and warm when he stepped on to the cool grass of the backyard. A full moon shone like a light globe low on the horizon just above Tom Leyton’s room as Joseph slid deftly over the fence and made his way in a jerky half-run, half-walk towards his neighbours’ house.

  The back door stood open. A soft light glowed from Tom Leyton’s room. Joseph knew that it came from the small lamp on his desk. The rest of the house seemed to be in darkness. He edged towards the door to Tom Leyton’s room trying to subdue the rising uneasiness within him.

  ‘Mr Leyton? Are you there? It’s me, Joseph.’ His words sounded strange and awkward, like badly delivered lines in a play.

  He looked past the half-open door before pushing it back gently. The room was empty. The handful of books that Tom Leyton had brought up from downstairs were still on the desk as they had been when Joseph was last in the room.

  He moved back out into the hallway and stared down the corridor. As his eyes adjusted to the dark he noticed a faint glow coming from the downstairs room. He moved to the top of the stairs and looked down to where a yellow sliver of light escaped through the partly open door.

  ‘Mr Leyton?’ he called again unconvincingly.

  Joseph waited, and then with his hand trailing the wall, he began his descent. With each step his senses heightened. He caught the earthy smell of burning wood mixed with another sweet, heady aroma and he felt the air heating as if he were descending into the earth’s core.

  When he came to the bottom Joseph pushed his face to the gap in the door. He could feel the stuffy heat of the room drift through and warm his cheek. Inside he could make out the shadowy shapes and angles of boxes and furniture. A soft light came from the far end of the room but was blocked by the bulky silhouette of the old lounge chair that faced the fireplace.

  A slight movement then caught Joseph’s eye. He could see the outline of a head above the back of the chair. He pushed the door wide and stepped gingerly into the room.

  ‘Mr Leyton?’

  The outline of the head jerked sideways, revealing half of a darkened profile.

  ‘Joseph? Are you here?’ Tom Leyton’s voice was rasping and breathless as if he were addressing a ghost.

  Joseph worked his way through the jumble of boxes until he stood beside the fireplace, facing the chair. Tom Leyton’s face was flushed and bloated, and heavy bags pulled down on his eyes while long strands of hair hung loosely across his cheeks. He held a glass in one hand and the other rested on a half-empty bottle of rum that was wedged between his leg and the arm of the chair. Silkworm cocoons lay in his lap and spilled on to the seat. On the floor were the drawers from Tom Leyton’s desk.

  ‘I didn’t think … I … please … sit down, sit down. Please.’ Tom Leyton motioned unsteadily to the large box to Joseph’s right.

  Joseph sat without taking his eyes off the man. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

  Tom Leyton picked a cocoon from his lap and held it close to his face, turning it over in his fingers. ‘Something I should have done a long time ago,’ he replied wearily. ‘Put an end to all this nonsense.’

  Tom Leyton then clumsily tossed the cocoon into the glowing embers of the fire. It flared briefly before blackening into nothing. ‘Silkworm, silkworm burning bright,’ he said, then gazing blearily into the fire added as if in a trance, ‘Did he who made the Lamb make thee?’

  Joseph watched, uncertain of what to do or say. He saw Tom Leyton’s head roll back unsteadily then fall
forward. He gathered a handful of cocoons and lifted his fist towards the fire.

  ‘Don’t, please,’ Joseph said quickly.

  Tom Leyton looked hard at the boy, his eyes shining like wet glass. ‘Why not? What use are they?’

  Joseph had no answer, but he looked pleadingly at Tom Leyton.

  Slowly the man’s hand fell to his thigh and the cocoons rolled like gold coins to the floor. He lowered his eyes, lifted the glass to his lips and let the dark golden liquid slide down his throat like a serpent. His lips glistened with moisture. ‘Why did you come here?’

  ‘I got your note. You asked me to come,’ Joseph answered, confused by the question.

  ‘Weren’t you afraid you might meet him here?’ Tom Leyton replied, nodding in the direction of the fireplace.

  At first Joseph didn’t understand what the man was referring to. Then he saw on the mantelpiece above the fire, half hidden in the shadows, the beastly outline of his portrait of Tom Leyton.

  A pang of anguish stabbed at Joseph. ‘I’m sorry … I shouldn’t have … It was wrong.’

  ‘No, no … it’s good. It’s very good. You have quite an eye. You have captured me to a T,’ Tom Leyton slurred bitterly. ‘But what I don’t understand is … you saw that …and still came here … at night … alone … and when you knew Caroline was away? Why?’

  ‘You said you would never hurt me,’ Joseph answered simply.

  Tom Leyton shook his head in disbelief. ‘People lie, Joseph.’

  ‘Not always … I believed you.’

  Tom Leyton thrust his chin towards the portrait, and spat out angrily, ‘How could you trust that?’

  ‘I don’t know … I … I don’t know,’ Joseph stammered as he fought to hold the hot tears that welled behind his eyes.

  Tom Leyton saw the hurt in the boy’s face and slumped back in his seat. He felt for the bottle and filled his glass roughly. When he had taken a large mouthful he rested his head back and closed his eyes.