Monsters

by David Alexander Robertson

  “Well I think the dangerous sort is the best kind of sleuthing,” Eva slammed her hand on the table. “I’m in.”

  “You’re just saying that because you don’t believe there’s anything out there!” Brady said.

  “Brady,” Cole said. “It’s us three, man. It’s gotta be.”

  “Ugh!” Brady looked like he wanted to tear the hairs out of his tidy braid, but Cole knew that look on his face.

  Brady was in, too.

  The clearing was empty. The tent had been removed, and the fire pit that had once housed ashes and empty cans of beans was gone, leaving behind only a discoloured area in the dirt.

  “Not so much as a footprint,” Eva said after she’d thoroughly circled the area.

  “It’s like somebody took a rake and combed the whole place over,” Cole said.

  “Scott talked about they when we were here, remember that?” Eva asked, kneeling right where the tent had been erected.

  “Yeah,” Cole said.

  “So, they cleaned up after him?” Brady asked. “Covering Scott’s tracks or…”

  Cole stood over the place he’d been stabbed, over a patch of dried blood. They hadn’t cleaned up everything. Eva stood beside Cole and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Who else would’ve?” she asked.

  Cole pried his eyes away from his own dried blood. “The RCMP?”

  Eva almost belly laughed. “You mean Jerry? That’s hilarious. Even if he had thought to clean up the camp, it wouldn’t have looked like this.”

  “And besides, we would’ve heard about it, if they’d actually done that and found the files and everything else,” Brady said.

  “True,” Cole said, “but we should check it out anyway.”

  By now, they were all standing in the middle of the clearing, looking around, looking at each other.

  “Let’s get back to who they could even be. Scott said he was getting paid a ton of money, right?” Eva asked.

  “Yeah, and it would have to be somebody who’d cover up that they’d killed kids.” Cole turned away from the group. He started pacing back and forth, looking over the area, looking out into the woods.

  “So they have a ton of money and they have no conscience,” Brady stated.

  “What needs to be covered up? They have a disease, they wanted the cure…but Scott tried to kill me, too,” Cole said.

  “Okay, wait, let’s just start where we need to start,” Eva said. “We’re getting way ahead of ourselves. Dad always says to start small, and then work your way up. We can’t go ass-backwards, we’ll never figure it out.”

  “So what’s next, then?” Brady asked. “The files aren’t here.”

  They had all started pacing over every inch of the camp, ruining the work they had done to clean the place up.

  “If the RCMP doesn’t have the files, which they probably won’t, I don’t know. The clinic?” Cole said.

  “Which is guarded,” Brady said.

  “Maybe Michael can somehow get keys or something from his mom?” Eva said. “Steal them, then put them back?”

  “No, Dr. Captain doesn’t have keys. She told me,” Cole said, “plus I doubt Michael would help if I’m involved unless he listens to Eva and is actually nice to me.” Cole had been waiting to bring that up. Now seemed like a bad time, but when would there be a good time?

  “Pardon me?” Eva said.

  “You told him to be nice to me! You don’t tell your boyfriend to be nice to your best friend, that’s so lame! I feel like some pathetic loser.”

  “I was just looking out for you.”

  “Well, you can stop. I need to fix things with Michael on my own.”

  “If I didn’t look out for you, you’d be dead, or have you forgotten the knife to your heart?”

  “That’s different!”

  “Why? They’re both because I care about you.”

  “Still here,” Brady interjected, but both Cole and Eva ignored him.

  Cole and Eva were face to face now. They’d almost collapsed into each other.

  “If you cared about me, you’d…”

  “I’d what?”

  What? Cole didn’t know what he wanted to say there. Maybe, that if she cared about him, she’d be with him, not Michael? Was that what really upset him about this? He didn’t feel like some pathetic loser, he was a pathetic loser. “You’d just stay out of it!”

  “Cole…” Eva backed off.

  Cole turned away and walked to the edge of the clearing. He looked out across the woods, into the darkness. That’s when he saw a dim light in the distance.

  “Do you guys see that?” Cole pointed at it.

  Brady and Eva came over and looked in that direction.

  Eva shook her head.

  Brady said, “No. What do you see?”

  “Nothing, sorry.” Cole looked at Eva for effect. “You know what, I just need to get some air. I’ll be a minute.”

  “Cole,” Eva repeated. “Don’t…”

  “Don’t what?” Cole was already walking out of the clearing.

  “Don’t go out into the woods alone like that.” Brady said.

  “I’ll be fine,” Cole said. “You guys stay together.”

  Cole made his way towards the light. Soon, he could see the source. Jayne was glowing like embers in a dying campfire.

  “Jayney,” Cole said when he got to her. “Why’re you so sad?”

  She was sitting, knees hugged to her chest, rocking back and forth, humming a song he didn’t know. “Nothing.”

  “What’re you doing out here? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  Jayne managed a smile. It was the first fake smile that Cole had ever seen from her.

  “What’s going on?” Cole sat down beside her. From here, unable to see the dim light Jayne gave off, Eva and Brady couldn’t see Cole, either. But he kept his voice down anyway.

  Out here, the smallest sounds were screams.

  “Choch made me come.” Jayne stopped rocking and let go of her knees. She leaned against Cole’s shoulder with her non-burning side.

  “I was worried about you,” Cole said.

  “Sorry, Coley. I’ve been hiding, mostly.”

  “Hiding?” Cole asked. Jayne got even dimmer. He felt the chill of the woods, even with her beside him. Her voice was shaking, like she couldn’t even feel her own heat. “From what?”

  Jayne didn’t answer.

  “Jayney? What are you hiding from? You can tell me, you’re safe.”

  “Promise?” Jayne looked up at him with puppy-dog eyes. She had tears coming out of her good eye and steam coming out the other.

  “Remember what you said? You’re ‘vincible’ right? You know that, silly-billy,” he said.

  Jayne thought about it.

  “Cole!” Eva shouted from the distance. “Come back! Please! I’m sorry!”

  “Yeah, Cole. It’s really, really creepy out here,” Brady said.

  “Jayney…” Cole prompted.

  “The boogeyman,” Jayne blurted out. “I’m hiding from the boogeyman.”

  Cole rubbed his face. “The boogeyman? Are you sure?”

  “I saw him, Coley! I wouldn’t lie to you, you know that!” Jayne’s fire brightened fast. Cole could see almost the whole forest around him, and Eva and Brady impatiently looking in his direction. Brady kept shining the flashlight from his phone into the dark, trying to spot Cole.

  “Okay.” Cole moved away from Jayne. He could feel the heat through his clothes, against his skin. “Okay, I’m sorry. Alright?”

  Jayne took some deep breaths, just like Cole would’ve done. As she did, her flames evened out.

  “When did you see the boogeyman?”

  “Right after the last time I seen you.” Her flames went dimmer than he’d ever seen them. They were almost out.

  Extinguished.

  “You mean…” Cole started.

  “Right there.” Jayne pointed directly where Eva and Brady stood. “He took your pap
ers.”

  “Papers? The files?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Have you seen him again, Jayney?”

  “Yeah, that’s why I’m hiding.”

  “Where have you seen him?”

  “Everywhere.”

  7

  ASSEMBLY

  COLE CHECKED THE TIME. 7:40 A.M. He tiptoed expertly (very few floorboard creaks) to Brady’s bedroom. He turned the handle as quietly as he could and eased the door open. Brady was fast asleep, his legs sprawled out across the mattress, covers kicked off and half on the floor, half stuck under his legs. His hair covered his face. Too cute, and sleeping too well to wake him. A good night’s sleep was rare for him since Ashley was murdered. Cole crept across the room and went through Brady’s drawers until he found a pair of sweats and a black tank top. With them firmly in hand, Cole backed away from the dresser and towards the bedroom door.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Oh.” Cole felt like handing the clothes back to Brady. “Sorry.”

  Brady sat up in bed and pushed the hair away from his eyes. “I said you could borrow my clothes. Anything of mine is yours. Seriously.”

  “I just didn’t want to wake you.”

  “Cole. Stop it. It’s. All. Good.”

  Cole nodded. “Thanks, man.” He straightened up.

  “No worries,” Brady said. “No more hockey, I guess?”

  “I think early morning basketball will suit me more than early morning run-into-Tristan-and-get-strangled.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Do you think people will ever accept me here? Like, that it’ll just feel normal?”

  “What’s normal? You know?”

  Cole sat down beside Brady. “In another decade, say?”

  “You’re sticking around that long? You really should’ve packed better.”

  “What can I do to change that? Can I do more than I am now?”

  Brady pushed his hair away, trying to blink himself more awake. “It’ll never be normal, my friend. That ship has sailed. What happened, it happened. We can’t change the past.”

  “But the future…”

  “Cole,” Brady breathed sharply, but kept his voice measured, “a good start is acting normal yourself. So just, you know, play basketball.”

  Cole sat there, quiet. He thought about it—really thought about it. Finally, he stood up. “Shitty thing is I’ll be using a volleyball, but whatever.”

  “At least you have a volleyball.” Brady fell backwards and sprawled out again. He closed his eyes.

  Cole started to leave, but then he stopped and slapped his hand against the door frame. “By the way, you’re, like, the best pretend sleeper I’ve ever seen.”

  “I get it from my kókom,” Brady said with his eyes still closed. “We see and hear everything, Cole.”

  “Right…well, thanks.” Cole held up the sweats and tank top, in an apologetic gesture, but Brady couldn’t see it.

  Cole pushed open the gym doors, and he had to look around more than once to make sure he’d gone to the right school, the right gym, and hadn’t entered some sort of weird portal. The hardwood floors had been freshly waxed and there was a cart full of inflated basketballs beside the court. On the floor beside the cart, there was a present wrapped in bright red and white paper with a silver glittery bow on top. Cole picked it up, held it by his ear, and like he was five years old, he shook it. Something rattled around. Something big, but not altogether hard. He sat down on the floor, cross-legged, and tore the paper off to reveal a shoebox. He lifted the lid and found a brand new pair of basketballs shoes, simple black. Sleek. The exact style he liked. He took off his outdoor shoes and slipped on the new pair of kicks. He looked around, all over the gym.

  “Is this for me?!”

  Nobody answered.

  They were a perfect fit. He tied the laces nice and tight, and then he stood up and ran in place. They felt amazing—like he was running on air.

  He scanned the gym again.

  “Hello?”

  Cole took a basketball from the top shelf of the cart like he was stealing it. He rolled it around between his hands, feeling the composite leather, the grooves. He bounced it several times, then took it to centre court. After one more bounce he took off running towards the hoop. He jumped two feet past the free throw line, cocked the basketball behind his head with both hands, and then slammed it through the hoop.

  “Holy shit, Harper.”

  Cole wheeled around. Pam was standing at the doors to the gym, a clipboard gripped between her chest and forearm. He was frozen. He couldn’t have moved if he wanted to.

  “I was—”

  “Weighing your options between the NBA and solving murders?”

  “I’ve been wor—working on my vertical. Back in Winnipeg.”

  Pam walked across the gym floor and stopped right in front of Cole. She took the ball from him. “You could’ve saved yourself a thousand-dollar plane ride and jumped to Wounded Sky.” She shot the ball with both hands. It clanged off the rim.

  “Just drills. That’s all.” Cole couldn’t look her in the eye. Instead, he looked at the storage room door, at the gym doors, at the stage, at the blue mats. He pictured himself hitting his head against them for his stupidity. “What’re you doing here so early?”

  Pam rolled her eyes. “Look, I don’t want to ruin the surprise…”

  “But…”

  Pam stared at the basketball shoes Cole had on. “I guess you kind of ruined it yourself, though.”

  “Oh, I just found them. I thought—”

  “You saw a present in the middle of the gym and thought, hey, this must be for me?” Pam chuckled. “You city folk are entitled.”

  Cole might’ve lost it if Pam hadn’t winked right after.

  “Sorry, was that the surprise?” he asked.

  “All of it is.”

  “Like, everything?”

  “Yep,” she said. “The balls, the fixed rim, the floor, the shoes…somebody likes you.”

  “Somebody-like-who somebody?” Cole asked.

  “I will say that I wasn’t totally against it.” Pam hugged the clipboard to her chest again. She looked down to the floor. “Alex was my best friend.”

  The silence between Cole and Pam resonated in the empty gym. Eventually, Pam looked up to find Cole looking at her, half smiling, half frowning. His eyes apologized for something he’d thought over and over again since Alex’s murder—that he should’ve saved her. Somehow. Some way.

  “Ummm…” Pam was the first to talk. “Joe, your friend from Winnipeg, told me your shoe size, what kind you liked.”

  “He’d know. Joe. How many times did he say ‘dude’ to you?”

  “Dude? Oh, about five million times. ‘Dude you’re going to get Cole some new kicks? Awesome, dude. Listen, dude, I’m, like, size eleven. He’s my size, dude. Dude, dude, dude.’ It went something like that. And then I told them, and voilà.”

  They laughed, and then they got caught in another silence.

  “Who’s them?” The question felt accentuated after the silence.

  “Huh? Oh, sorry. Mihko.”

  “The laboratory people? With the doctors and guards and—”

  “Mihko. Correct.”

  “Weird.” The word them kept repeating in his head. Them. They. Them. They. Cole shook his head at the thought. Why would they do something like this for him, and at the same time, try to kill him, his friends?

  “Super weird,” Pam chuckled. “Anyway, there’s an assembly this morning. For you. They were going to present it all to you. It’s a big to-do.”

  “An assembly?”

  “Surprise! You look like you’re going to shit yourself, Harper.”

  “That obvious?”

  “You suddenly look like you did yesterday.”

  He felt like he did yesterday, too.

  “Anyway,” Pam said, “I came to start setting up. Didn’t think you’d be in here already, dunking like Spider-Man t
o embarrass Flash Thompson. Y’know.”

  “That’s the shitty Spider-Man.”

  “That’s the shitty Spider-Man, but the only one where he dunks a basketball.”

  Cole looked around the gym. He imagined it filled with teachers, students, parents—dignitaries, even? Reynold McCabe. His heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest and start bouncing all over the newly waxed floor. The imagined crowd did scare the shit out of him. He didn’t want to consider how it would feel when the real one showed up.

  The change room was the safest place to be. Cole had been sitting in it for half an hour. He was leaning forward, staring at the floor, counting the little blue speckles embedded in the grey tiles. Three hundred ninety-seven so far. He would’ve been happy to hide there all day, counting speckles and pretending to be curious about how many there were, and naming clusters of them as though they were constellations. He could hear footsteps entering the gym. They’d started coming in about ten minutes ago. It sounded like a stampede.

  “Why can’t you just get over this?” Cole whispered to himself, but he knew better. You didn’t just “get over” anxiety. His therapist had told him as much. It was something you managed, by doing things the right way. By not letting it hold you back. Exercising. Eating right. And yes, taking a pill every now and then when you felt like you really needed it. “But this is something you’ll always have to live with, Cole,” she’d said within the confines of her office, over the hum of the A/C unit sticking out of the window behind him, the one that he listened to when he didn’t want to hear what she had to say. Things like how when he was sixty years old he’d still have anxiety, and still have to live with it. Diet. Exercise. Perseverance. The occasional pill. Counting speckles.

  “Imagine that it’s a person,” she’d said.

  “I imagine that it’s a…a beast or something,” he’d said.

  “It can be, if you let it,” she’d said. “It’s sitting on your shoulder, whispering into your ear, and it’s hungry. Every time you listen to what it’s whispering to you, it grows. It keeps growing until it’s not sitting on your shoulder anymore, but you’re wearing it like clothing.”

  “But if you don’t feed it…” Cole started. If he didn’t listen to those whispers, it would shrink. It would shrink so small that he might not even hear it whispering sometimes.