“Holy shit!” Nelson Kurtz said. “Are you okay, kid?”
“Fuck this,” Parker Brooks said. He took off, and Darren Philips followed.
Kit rolled over, groaning. His head ached. His ankle throbbed. He tried to move his leg, only to cry out. “Help me,” he said. “Please.”
Nelson Kurtz took two quick steps toward the front of the library. “Damn it,” he groaned. He turned around, his expression filled with worry. He took a step toward Kit, then stopped. He looked back over his shoulder, then back at Kit. “Sorry, Christian. Sorry.”
Nelson bolted for the exit.
~ 140
Jared stirred as the fever gripped him. His eyes opened slowly, and he squinted into the blinding rays of the overhead sun. He tried to get up, only to double over in agony. Every bone, every muscle, seemed to scream at him to stop. A biting stab in his side brought a cry as he slumped to the deck, and he had to shift onto his back to ride out the pain.
He blocked out the sun with his forearm. Slow breaths helped as he tried to stop the wrecking ball that was swinging back and forth inside his head. He struggled just to get to his knees, as if this latest outage had drained his internal batteries instead of recharging them.
He crawled to the railing and pulled himself up. In the bright sunshine, it was clear that his fingers were much darker now, his scars darker still. His hands trembled, and he had to make fists to fight the throb in his bones. His legs seemed ready to buckle. After a few minutes of standing still, he could walk without fear of crumpling to the deck.
Inside, he stopped at his desk. The clock read one-eighteen. He turned back to the French doors, trying to remember. Something stirred in his brain, but what it was he couldn’t say; it was lost to him. He shut his eyes and tried to breathe it out, only to yell fuck in frustration.
In his bathroom, he stared at the gaunt stranger in the mirror. His hair seemed thinner. He had all the color of a ghost. His eyes were lifeless. They ached. The veins around them had thickened and spread like weeds.
He removed his shirt and turned to his side. He was noticeably thinner. His ribs were much more defined. Half his torso had the rich color of eggplant, for his bruise had grown in bounds. Here and there he pressed gently on his side, grimacing at every touch.
He discovered another abscessed tooth. It came out easily, but painfully. He tossed it into the receptacle under the vanity and rinsed with mouthwash. Capping the bottle, he realized he had lost the thumbnail on his left hand. He found it in the sink before washing it down the drain.
He stepped on the scale. One-sixty-two.
After a quick shower, he dressed in fresh clothes. His pants were baggy, and he had to tighten his belt to the next hole. In the kitchen he whipped up two large turkey sandwiches, but when he swallowed his first bite, he immediately felt sick to his stomach. He threw up in the sink, and reeled at the blood that came with his bile. Upon rinsing the sink, he rinsed his mouth with some water before spitting it out. The spittle was rich and thick, and still crimson. He rinsed and purged until it was clear.
In the living room he stood still, listening for any sound beyond his soft breathing. He was certain that someone was in the house with him.
The eagle stared. He felt its eyes burning into him. Five minutes later, he stood back from the hearth as the flames devoured it.
Still … he could not shake that creepy sensation of being watched. Even now in broad daylight, he felt as if he had fallen into a cold dark cavern, about to be swallowed by some preying black evil.
What happened last night?
The harder he tried to remember, the harder his head pounded. He feared he might be losing more than his health; he might be losing his mind.
Keep it together, Jared. You have to. The last you thing you need is a breakdown when you hit the interstate.
He grabbed his keys, his phone, and his suitcase. He paused at the front door and set the suitcase down.
“Shit.” He circled through the uncertainties of his plan yet again. Should he call Marisa? Should he see if she called?
Go. Go now before the whole town explodes.
“Ohhh, Christ.”
Against his better judgment, he powered up his phone and checked his voice mail. Marisa had called.
The phone rang.
Marisa.
He hesitated. Suddenly, he remembered something from last night. It was just a feeling, yet it was unmistakable.
The rage.
He picked up on the fourth ring. “Mar. Mar, I—”
“Jared! Jared!”
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Are you still here? Still in town?”
“Yes, I—”
“I need you at the hospital! Please! Please!”
“Are you hurt? Mar—?”
She hung up.
~ 141
Jared thrummed a finger on the steering wheel. The fever was bad enough, but the fact that his brain had jammed yet again was infuriating. For the life of him he couldn’t remember where the main road was back to town. Couldn’t remember where the hospital was. He found it in his GPS, and only twenty minutes later—half the time it would normally take—he was racing into the hospital parking lot.
Marisa’s hatchback was in one of the parking spaces. It sat at an odd angle, several inches into a handicap space. She had clearly parked in a hurry. But more troubling was the vehicle itself. It looked like the losing car in a demolition derby.
Inside, he hurried to the nurse’s station. The nurse looked up and was taken aback by his ghoulish face.
“Can … can I help you, sir?”
“I’m looking for Kit Judge’s room. Sorry. His name’s Christian. Christian Judge.” On the way into town, he reasoned that something had happened to Marisa’s son and not her. If she had been injured she would have told him; her utter panic on the phone told him otherwise. Still, after finding her car like that, all bets were off.
“Of course,” the nurse said. She gave him another look, then tapped away at her computer. While he waited, he noticed a small splatter of blood on the wall near the floor. Wade Kingsley’s blood.
“Sir? Sir. Room nine. Just follow the blue li—”
Jared turned without thanking her and made his way to Kit’s room. From the corridor he heard the calm and measured words of a doctor. He peered in and saw Marisa, and when she saw him, she told the doctor to give her a moment. She hurried out of the room, and Jared expected either a verbal lambasting or a slap to the face. But when she threw her arms around him and whimpered “Thank God,” he held her close and promised himself he would not let her go. Whatever it took, he would keep her safe.
“I love you so much,” he whispered. “So much.”
“I love you, too.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she wiped them away. She gave him a curious look, the very same the young nurse had given him.
“I know. I know.” He looked past her into the hospital room. The doctor was looking his way, so he folded his arms to conceal his hands. There was little else he could hide.
“What happened, Mar? I saw your car. My God, is Kit okay?”
Marisa was about to speak when the doctor joined them in the corridor. Heinrich Vogel was thin and fit for his age, bespectacled, with thick silver hair. He had a slight scar under his left eye.
“He’s going to be fine,” Vogel said, with a slight German accent. He gave Jared a lingering study. “As I was explaining to Mrs. Judge, he has a severe second-degree sprain in his ankle. There’s some mild swelling and discomfort. I wouldn’t have him walking on it for a few days. As it is, I’m much more concerned with his concussion.”
“His what?” Jared said.
“Can we be alone, Doctor?” Marisa said.
“Certainly. One thing, however. I’d like to keep Christian overnight for observation. If his situation improves by tomorrow, we’ll discharge him.”
“Yes, of course,” Marisa said. “Thank you.”
Instead of heading
off, Vogel gave Jared another look. “Forgive me. But are you all right?”
“I’ve been under the weather,” Jared said. “I’m actually getting better. You should have seen me last week.”
Vogel nodded, and to Jared’s surprise, the man offered a hand. “I’m sorry. It’s just that … well … I’m quite pleased to meet you, Mr. Cole. I’m most definitely a fan. I heard you were offering copies of Insanity to the staff, and I thought perhaps—”
“I really need to speak with him, Doctor.” Marisa pulled Jared aside.
“Oh! Of course,” Vogel said. “Time and place. Time and place.” He gave Jared another once-over, and finally hurried off. At the corner of the corridor, he stopped to take a last look over his shoulder before he disappeared.
“He’s a tad off,” Jared said. “Thanks, by the way.”
“You’re welcome,” Marisa said. “As for Dr. Vogel? I thought you thought they’re all quacks.”
“Yeah. But some are stranger than others. Now … what happened to Kit?”
~ 142
Marisa told Jared what she knew, which wasn’t much. One of the teachers had found Kit in the library, unconscious, and the principal had called for an ambulance. Mr. Tremblay had admitted that he didn’t know what had happened yet, but had assured her he’d get to the bottom of it. Like Marisa, Jared didn’t need names; it was obvious who was responsible. Now he stood in the corridor with her, shaking his head.
“You were right about what you said before,” he said. “Brooks needs a swift kick in the jewels. Christ.”
“He needs them snipped off,” she said coldly. “And if Parker Brooks thinks this is over, he’s dead wrong. I’m going to press charges. That is, if I can get Kit to tell me what happened. He’s too afraid to say anything.”
“Do you want me to talk with him?”
“Would you?” she said, hopefully. “I think he might open up. He really looks up to you.”
Jared started to say something, but couldn’t find the words.
“He does,” Marisa said. “And that’s okay. He could use a man’s strength right now.” She kissed him and led him inside.
“Jared!” Kit said, brightening. He sported a bandage on his forehead, and an ear-to-ear smile that was utterly infectious.
Jared admired the boy’s spirit, but more than that, he admired his courage. It seemed he could weather just about any storm. “Hey, kiddo! How you feeling?”
Kit sat up in his bed. He wavered, appearing slightly dizzy.
“Easy,” Marisa said. She helped him lie back.
Kit looked up at Jared. “My head hurts.”
“I bet it does. Just try to be still.” Jared looked at the stone in Kit’s left hand, which had a small bandage on his pinky. “You hold onto that.”
Kit nodded.
“The doctor tells me you hurt your ankle, too. How’d you do that?”
“I fell.”
“How’d you fall?”
“I just fell.”
Jared pulled up a chair and sat next to him. “I know you’re scared, Kit. And I know Parker Brooks did this to you. He’s a bully, plain and simple. I know, it seems so easy to run when you’re scared. So easy to hide. But trust me, you can’t run forever. Eventually, whatever you’re running from catches up with you.” He looked up at Marisa. “You have to face what scares you.”
Marisa rewarded him with a smile.
Kit looked at his mother, then back to Jared. “If I tell, Parker’s going to be really mad. He’ll beat me up.”
Jared took him by the hand. “No he won’t. Not if you stand up to him by telling us what he did.”
“Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent.”
Kit seemed to relax a little. He proceeded to tell them what had happened, and when it was over, Jared looked at Marisa. He feared she might burst into tears, but instead she seemed hardened by her son’s revelations.
“A strobe app,” she said in disgust. “Nice. And to threaten him with that cutter? If I had Brooks right here, I’d—”
“Easy,” Jared said. “He’ll get his. Him, and his two friends. Kit, you did a brave thing. I’m proud of you.”
Kit nodded. “When can I go home?”
“The doctor wants to keep you here overnight,” Marisa said. “You might be able to come home tomorrow if everything’s okay. Okay?”
“I guess.”
“Kit?” Jared said. Kit looked worried, like he had something weighing on his mind. Maybe monster thoughts. “You okay?”
“I’m tired,” Kit said. He rolled over to the window.
“You sleep, baby,” Marisa said. She kissed him on the cheek. “I love you.”
Jared was about to prod him again when Marisa gave him that look. The one that told him they needed to talk. Now.
~ 143
As they stepped out of the hospital’s front entrance, Jared felt more than the fever rushing through him. Marisa was staring, and not in a curious way.
“What?” he said.
“You really don’t have a clue sometimes, do you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“My son,” she said. “Did you not see the worry on his face?”
“Of course I did. He’s terrified of Parker Brooks.”
Marisa shook her head. “God. You really are thick at times. This has nothing to do with Brooks. He’s worried about you.”
“Me?”
“Have you seen yourself in the mirror? Christ, Jared. You look like a ghoul.”
“Thanks.”
She grabbed his arm and gave him a shake. “Listen to me! Whatever’s happening to you, it’s getting worse. A lot worse. It’s only been a couple of days since I last saw you. You look like … like—”
“Like a ghoul, I know.”
“Is everything a goddamn joke to you?” She turned away from him and cupped a hand to her lips.
“Mar?” He slipped an arm around her. “Hey. It’s gonna be all right.”
“Don’t you get it? I can’t just sit here and watch you fade away. Neither can Kit.”
“I’m still here. Still fighting.”
“For how long? How long before—” She couldn’t stop the tears.
Jared held her close. “We’re gonna fix this, Mar. If it’s the last thing I do.”
She sniffled. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
~ 144
Jared walked Marisa to the hospital parking lot. The fever spiked, dizzying him, and she had to steady him. The blazing sun wasn’t helping.
“Thanks,” he said, stiffening. He waited it out until the dizziness passed.
“Ironic, isn’t it?”
“What.”
“You’re standing in front of a hospital, ready to keel over, and all you want to do is get in your car and drive away.”
He gave her a shrug.
She kissed him.
“What was that for?” he said.
“For staying. Thank you.”
“No,” he said shamefully. “I should be thanking you. Judd told me you talked to him. If you hadn’t, I would have been halfway to New York by now.”
He led her to her car. His was parked in the row behind hers. He surveyed the damage to her hatchback and gave her a look. In all the excitement with Kit, she hadn’t had a chance to explain. “Care to share?”
Marisa sighed. “Bobby Duncan.”
“What?”
“He went crazy. It was a nightmare.” She told him about Bobby ramming her car.
“Jesus Christ,” he said. “That son of a bitch.” He stood there, fuming. He had loved Bobby like a brother. Had. “Listen. You’ve been through hell. I want you to go home and get some rest.”
“Where are you going?”
“To the police station. I want to look that bastard in the eye and—”
“Jared—” Her voice trailed off.
“What? Mar? Tell me the cops arrested him. Mar.”
“… Bobby’s dead.”
&
nbsp; “What … what?”
She told him the rest. When she finished, she asked him if he was all right.
“He got what he deserved,” he said. He didn’t care for the coldness in his voice. Or his heart.
“Are you all right?” she said.
He held her. Kissed her. “I’m just thankful that you and Kit are okay.”
He followed her back to her place. She made them tea, and they sat at the kitchen table. Marisa told him about losing her job, but he could tell that had nothing to do with her dour expression.
“Last night,” he said. “Kit. Isn’t it.”
“Did you have an event, too? I’m guessing you did.”
“Yes. But for the life of me I can’t remember it. It’s been driving me crazy.”
“You and me, both. Kit scared the hell out of me. He came down the steps in a trance. Sleepwalking. He said something really strange.”
“What was it?”
“He said, ‘Weather the storm.’ And then—”
“Whoa,” Jared said, realizing.
“What—?”
He shook his head. “Maybe it’s nothing.”
“No. What is it?”
“It’s just a coincidence, I’m sure. It’s just that, when I was in the hospital with him, I remember thinking how resilient he was. How he could weather any storm. Freaky, right?”
“At this point, freaky’s pretty much normal in our house. What do you think it means?”
“I don’t know. I take it you didn’t ask him.”
“No,” she said. “But really, I’m a lot more frightened of what he said afterward. And what he did.”
“What … ?”
She told him what Kit had said. How he’d pointed a finger-pistol to his head and had pulled its imaginary trigger.
“Oh, Jesus,” Jared said, finally realizing it was the same word that had driven through his brain. “Pistola means—”
Gateway Page 34
