Joe

by H. D. Gordon

  I figured I should probably say something. “You’re v-very observant,” I said.

  Blushing, Michael gave me a slanted grin. “Well, it’s kind of my nature to notice things that most other people overlook. That’s why I write poetry.”

  I didn’t really know what to say to that, so I didn’t say anything. I was too occupied with looking all around us as carefully and discreetly as I could. A chill walked up my spine as I came to the sudden and certain conclusion that the man I was looking for had looked down from where I was now sitting. A park bench sat not far away from where Michael had lain out the blanket, on the other side of the large oak. I just bet Mr. Psychopath sat there recently, plotting the way he would murder all of the innocent people just slightly below him. In fact, I just bet—

  “You hungry?” Michael asked, breaking into my thoughts.

  I nodded, even though the last time I had actually felt hunger had been Thursday morning, before I had drawn the awful sketch in Professor Johnson’s class. Michael pulled sandwiches, bags of chips and two sodas out of the basket and handed me my share.

  I smiled my thanks and we ate in the quiet of the warm day. Michael was either not big on small talk or knew that I wasn’t big on it, because he seemed to be perfectly comfortable in the silence between us. Either way, it is a quality I appreciated. Especially at that moment.

  Then he went and ruined it all by asking a very reasonable, annoying question.

  Michael set his sandwich down on his paper plate and wiped his hands on a napkin. I shifted uneasily. His green eyes felt as though they were looking right past my own and down into my soul. It was an intense and attractive look. I didn’t like it. My soul held important secrets, and no one needed to be looking in there but me.

  “What’s going to happen on Monday?” Michael asked.

  I have never been a quick and easy liar. My mouth fell open on its own. My rapid heartbeat urged my brain to spit out something, anything that could answer that question. Anything that wasn’t the truth, of course. I had nothing. So, as I had no answer, I asked a question instead.

  “Wuh-what do you muh-mean?”

  I know, I’m a genius.

  Michael wasn’t deterred. He just smirked a little and gave me a look that said I knew exactly what he meant, and he knew it. I got the sudden urge to stand up and just run away, but I could only imagine how stupid I would look doing that. Well, if I was good at anything, it was shutting people out.

  It was a struggle not to fold my arms across my chest. “It’s juh-just no—

  My mouth snapped shut as I peered over Michael’s shoulder. A man had just appeared from around the corner of Blue, some sixty yards away from where we sat. I had been watching him walk down the path since he appeared from around the side of Blue, and had only subliminally taken notice of him. He was too far away to make out any features, but what I could see of his outfit was that it was plain and simple. What looked like a black duffel bag was slung over his right shoulder. Had anyone else been around, they might not have even noticed him. Even the way he moved seemed to be nondescript. The reason my words had jammed up in my throat was because he had stopped walking and simply just stood in the middle of the walkway. When he stopped, I had gotten the completely unfounded feeling that he was looking right at me. I couldn’t see his eyes at all at this distance, but I could feel them. And now, as he stood still as stone sixty yards away from me, the image of my sketch came flooding back to my mind with surprising clarity. I squinted, concentrating to compare the silhouettes of the man on the path to the Shadowman of my drawing. Whether it was because my imagination was running away from me or not, I don’t know, but they matched. They matched perfectly.

  “Shadowman,” I said out loud, momentarily unmindful of my company.

  The word fell from my mouth easily, but in a whisper. I ran my tongue out along my dry lips, and felt my breathing grow deep and unsteady. Could it be him down there? Sure it could. I had already come to the conclusion that I was looking for a psychopath, and I had learned from my internet research that they are meticulous planners. So, would it be too far of a leap to think that the man down on the walkway was here to do one last run-through where he planned to mass-murder tomorrow? He wasn’t dressed like a janitor, and seemed too young, even at this distance, to be a teacher. Maybe I was making leaps, but everything in life is either a leap or a fall, right?

  “I’ve think I’ve seen that guy,” Michael said. “Do you know him? What’s ‘Shadowman’?”

  I turned to stare at Michael. When I looked back toward the walkway, where my potential Shadowman had been standing, he was already walking swiftly back in the direction from where he had come, nearly rounding the corner of Blue. I stood up, grabbed Michael’s hand and pulled him to his feet before I knew what I was doing.

  He followed me without hesitation, almost eager for me to pull him along. “If you want to leave I should pack up the—

  “L-leave it,” I said. “Wuh-wuh-we’ll come back.”

  “Okay.”

  “When did you-you-you—

  I stopped to take a deep breath. My heart was pounding out of my chest. I felt like if God or whoever was doing me a favor, He was only going to do it once. Follow that car, man. And step on it.

  “When duh-did you see him?” I asked, tugging Michael along faster as I headed toward Blue. I felt like time was running out. The man had already disappeared around the building. I had to catch up with him and…well, and then I would figure out what to do next.

  “The other day,” Michael answered. He let out at laugh, and I looked at him for a moment. He waved a hand. “I ran into him, I think, because I was…distracted.” He smiled. I pulled him along faster.

  “Th-that’s it?” I asked. We were passing around the side of Blue now and under the stone archway that led out to the parking lot. Shadowman was nowhere in sight. I was all but running now.

  “Well…” Michael began.

  He didn’t finish the thought, because we had reached the other side of Blue, and Michael’s black Lexus was the only car in sight. We were the only people in sight, too.

  Shadowman was gone.

  A word tumbled rapidly out of my mouth that would have put my dear mother to shame.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Michael

  “Th-the car th-that was huh-here before, duh-do you remember it?” Joe asked.

  Michael was utterly confused by the raven-haired girl’s actions, but his heart was pounding hard in his chest as though he were on some sort of roller coaster. There was only one thing he was sure of, and that was that Joe knew something he didn’t know. Maybe she knew a whole lot of somethings. He wasn’t even sure what he meant by that, but he was sure of it nonetheless.

  And one other thing: he really liked her. She was unpredictable and unreadable. Rarely did he come across a person who was such a mystery, and he just bet that she didn’t let people in easily. More than anything, at this strange moment, he wanted in. So he would open up to her first. He had made a strong effort to keep the conversation to a minimum because he suspected that was what she preferred, but she had to talk to someone. She had to trust someone, didn’t she? He wanted it to be him. He was beginning to think that if he spent too much more time around this girl, he was going to fall in love. She was excitement and mystery and intrigue, and she was beautiful. Especially with the intense look in her silver-blue eyes that she had right now. She was beautiful.

  “A silver Honda,” he said, trying hard to recall the car that had been parked here when they arrived. “Probably like a ’93. There was a rust spot on the top of the trunk, not a big one, but noticeable.”

  Michael watched her closely as Joe mulled this over. He waited patiently for her to do so, even though he had about a million questions on the tip of his tongue. He had a feeling that if he asked too much too quickly, she would shut him out for good.

  He caught up to her when she began walking back toward the Quad, and on impulse, took her
hand into his own. Her hand was soft and warm, and he was pleased when he felt her squeeze back. She had almost torn his arm off when she had pulled him out here, but he wasn’t complaining.

  She didn’t say a word on the entire walk back to the picnic spot. When they got there, she took a seat on the blanket, and Michael sat down beside her. He was just about to break the silence when she looked over at him.

  “You wuh-were about to-to tell me something about that guh-guy when I started puh-puh-pulling you,” she said. “Wuh-what was it?”

  Michael searched his brain for the information she wanted, and found that even though he was eager to please her, he didn’t want to really give it. He did anyway. “I ran into him,” he said. “I was distracted by, well, by you when I saw you walking across the Quad. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and I just smacked right into him. At least, I think that was him. Real plain-looking guy. And he was even cool when I apologized to him. Except…”

  Joe’s eyebrows went up, asking the question silently: Except, what? Michael again had reservations about telling her how he had felt when he looked into the guy’s eyes. Michael was worried he would sound silly—superstitious even—if he told her that he just got feelings about certain people, and those feelings usually had no evidence to support them, but they were strong feelings sometimes. Only stupid people ignore strong feelings, and only stupider people went and preached them to the world. But you gotta give a little to get a little.

  “Except that he…well, he smiled at me, and said that it was no problem that I had run into him. Just like most people say when you apologize for something like that. But I just got a little, I don’t know, creepy vibe from him or something.” Michael paused, trying to put his encounter with the man who called himself The Decider into words. “It was like his mouth and his face was saying it was okay, but his eyes were…vacant. Not sure if that’s quite the right word, but it’s close,” he said.

  Michael watched the girl as she considered all of this, half-waiting for her to burst into laughter at his strange claim. But she didn’t laugh. Of course she didn’t. She was no stranger to strange.

  They finished their lunch, Michael hoping that she would pick up the conversation again, too afraid of scaring her off somehow if he started it on his own. She was a rare creature, this Joe, and she had to be handled with caution and care. He really was gifted at reading people, so he allowed her her silence. She seemed to be deep in thought anyhow.

  But by the time he was dropping her off at her apartment, he figured that if he couldn’t ask any questions, then he could at least make one last leap of faith.

  “Th-thank you for lunch. It was r-r-really nice,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt.

  “No problem. I had a good time,” he said.

  “Muh-me too.”

  She was blushing, the rosy color of her cheeks delicate and lovely beneath her magnificent eyes. He swallowed hard, wishing he could reach out and run his fingers down her soft cheek. He had to take a deep breath before he could get his next words out. He could only hope that they wouldn’t force her to run away from him somehow.

  “I’d like to see you again,” he began. “I really did have a good time. I understand that you’re a private person, and you probably wouldn’t appreciate me bombarding you with questions, so I won’t ask any. I just want you to know if you need anything, any help that I can give, I’ll do it.”

  With a burst of courage, he took her hand. She had begun to look a little frightened, so he was glad when she didn’t pull away.

  “I like you a lot, Joe. To tell you the truth, I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we talked in class last Thursday. I-I just have never met anyone like you in my life. And I hope you’ll agree to see me again.”

  There. That wasn’t so hard.

  When the raven-haired girl just sat there silently in the front seat, a perturbed look of indecision covering her features, he realized that the hard part hadn’t been saying it. The hard part would be waiting for her response. When she finally spoke, he felt a wonderful amount of relief.

  “Okay.”

  It was a better response than he had hoped for.

  “So, I can see you again?” he asked.

  She studied him with those penetrating silver-blue eyes for what seemed like long time. Finally, she said, “You puh-puh-promise to skip classes on muh-Monday?”

  He nodded a little too vigorously, and this made her laugh. He smiled wide, happy to hear the musical sound of amusement in her voice. He held up two fingers and adopted a serious look. “Scouts’ Honor, ma’am,” he said. “No classes for me tomorrow.”

  She laughed again and opened the car door. “When can I see you, then?” he asked.

  Joe stepped out of the car and leaned down to look in at him. The smile on her face just a moment ago was gone, replaced with a look that made his heart twist. Somehow, all at once, the look was sad and sardonic and scared and hopeful and other things that he couldn’t quite grab on to.

  “That,” she said, “even I don’t know.”

  She offered him one last smile—a real one, not the one she used for customers at the bar—and shut the door. That smile spoke the words so clearly that she would have struggled to get out if spoken verbally. That smile somehow managed to say both thank you and I’m sorry at the same time.

  That smile stuck itself to the inside of this head and to the insides of his eyelids, so that every time he blinked or closed his eyes he could see her face. It wasn’t enough. He decided he would see her face in person again the next chance he got.

  Which just happened to be tomorrow. Which just happened to be Monday.

  They shared a class together on Mondays, and though he had given his word that he would not attend his classes on Monday—for a reason that she had refused to divulge—she had not said anything about not coming to school on Monday. If he went up to UMMS around noon tomorrow, maybe he could have lunch with her again in the Quad.

  Yes, that sounded like a plan indeed.

  Chapter Forty

  The Decider

  He was once again sitting on the edge of his tightly-made bed in his neatly arranged apartment. His breath was coming in short, harsh gasps, and his hands were clenched into sweaty fists that had turned red with the halted blood flow. Danny was trying desperately to calm himself. Everything was going to be all right.

  The planting of his bombs at UMMS had gone well. He had placed four of them in various places around campus; one for each building that surrounded the Quad. He had a walkie-talkie that would ignite the explosives—if he had wired them correctly—when he pushed the send button. But it wasn’t someone who would get the message. It was four somethings, and if all went well they would respond to his call with a big Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! He could almost hear it now.

  He hadn’t seen so much as a security guard or a janitor on campus. There had been no cars in the parking lot when he had arrived. Of course, all of the buildings had been locked, so his bombs had all been placed on the exterior of the school, but that was okay. He had used enough dynamite to take out large portions of the buildings. It was almost funny how easy it was to obtain such destructive items, just like it had been easy to obtain the guns. God Bless America. Home of the brave and land of the fucking free.

  When the hell had that black Lexus shown up?

  His final run-through hadn’t gone completely as planned. He hadn’t gotten to stand in the spot where his destiny would be realized. Someone else had already been there. Two someones, actually. Some bitch with hair black like a

  (raven?)

  and some quarterback-looking piece of shit, like the one who had run into him the other day. He hoped he saw that motherfucker tomorrow. Him and his little black-haired bitch. He hoped they would be around for the show. They had been sitting there, in his spot, up by the old oak tree that stood so slightly but definitely higher above the rest of the ground in the Quad. He hadn’t been able to stand there and savor the scene
and bask in his glory. Those two fucking pricks had stolen that from him. It was a small thing–certainly nothing so huge that he would have to reschedule tomorrow—but it made him shaky with anger and unease just to think about it. Danny liked his control. He needed it.

  No matter, though. He would stand there tomorrow. And that stupid fucking jaguar with its stupid fucking platform would bear silent, frozen witness to Danny’s Power and Legacy. And if that stupid fucking raven decided it wanted to show up, perch atop the jaguar’s head and grin down at him in that stupid way he had dreamed, well then, that was just fine, too. It could witness right along with the rest of them.

  Who would get the last laugh then?

  Of course, Danny decided that he would.

  He would like to see the raven’s face when that happened. He just bet it wouldn’t be so quick to grin at him then. He just bet.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Mina

  “So, have you ever had to kill anyone?” Dominic asked.

  Mina gasped. Beside her, Davis chuckled. She shot him a warning look turned back toward her younger son. “Dominic,” she said, “that’s not an appropriate question to ask someone.”

  Russell smiled at the boy. “Ah, it’s alright. I was curious as a boy myself. But, to answer your question, no, I haven’t ever had to kill anyone. I haven’t ever had to fire my gun, either. I’ve had to draw it a time or two, but that’s all.” He gave the boy a gentle, but serious look. “And I thank God for that.”

  The four of them were seated around Mina’s table in her dining room having dinner. After the incident at the carnival, Mina had found herself unable to stop thinking about Russell. She had invited him over for lunch today, and he ended up staying through dinner. She couldn’t believe how well her sons had taken to him, Dominic especially.