by Cross, Amy
“What are you -”
“He's going to kill again, Joe. The stag-headed man has a very good understanding of the stars. When the maps align, he'll do it again. Maybe not for a while now, because the rules are set in place, but I promise you, it's all true.”
“I won't let him,” he replied, wincing as he tried to lift himself out of bed. “I'll keep everyone safe.”
“You're just a kid.”
“No!”
“And how do you expect to keep people safe? First, you need to understand him.”
“I'll find a way.”
“And to understand him,” she continued, as her smile grew, “you need to become him.”
He paused. “What do you mean? Caitlin, what are you saying?”
“The time isn't right yet,” she replied, “but when it is, I'll tell you. And when that day comes, you're going to have to know what it feels like to do the things he does. And you're going to have to protect me, because when he finds out that I've come back, he's going to want to hurt me all over again.” Her smile grew. “But that's okay, Joe. Everyone kills. Even if they don't know it, everyone who ever lived has killed another human being at some point in their life. Everyone.”
***
A few miles outside town, in an old farmhouse, the body of Garland Packer lay in a pool of blood, waiting to be discovered. The back of the old man's head had been smashed open, allowing blood and brain matter to drip down onto the floorboards.
The front door had been left ajar. A few minutes earlier, a terrified young man had stumbled out with blood on his hands.
Part Six
Prologue
Nine years ago
“Please, please...”
Scrubbing furiously, Ben kept his hands under the hot water for as long as he could stand, before finally pulling back. Steam was coming from the sink, but as he held his hands up to the light he realized he could still see blood caked around the edges of his nails, so he twisted the faucet a little to make the water even hotter and then he thrust his hands back into the sink, wincing with pain in the process. All that mattered was getting rid of the blood, even the tiny particles he couldn't see, flecked into the pores of his skin.
“What are you doing?”
Spinning around, he saw Jack standing in the doorway.
“Nothing,” he snapped, hurrying over to push the door shut, only for Jack to put his foot in the way.
“What are you doing, Ben?”
“Well,” Ben replied, forcing a smile even though he was panicking and his hands hurt, “I'm in the bathroom, which tends to be a place where people expect a little extra privacy, so...”
“What's wrong with your hands?”
“Jesus, there's -”
“Is that blood on your shirt?”
Looking down, Ben frantically searched for any hint of blood, but he couldn't see anything.
“Maybe not,” Jack continued, “although...” He paused, eying his brother with even greater suspicion than usual. “You still looked. Almost like you thought I might be right.”
“I'm busy,” Ben replied, trying once again to shut the door, “so if -”
“I've never seen you like this before,” Jack told him. “Did something happen? You seem like you're in kind of a mess. I mean, you're always in a mess, but this time you don't seem to be in control.”
“I'd like to be left alone.”
“To do what?”
“I'm in the bathroom,” Ben hissed, “so what do you think?” He paused for a moment, waiting for Jack to leave. “You can stay and watch if you really prefer. It's a little weird, but I guess you can tear off some paper and hand it to me when the time comes.”
“What's that on your hands?” Jack asked, looking down and seeing the red stains around his brother's nails. “Did you cut yourself?”
“Do you really want to know?” Ben asked, trying to buy time so he could come up with an explanation. “Are you really so goddamn suspicious that you have to know what I'm doing in the goddamn bathroom? I mean, that is some nuclear grade paranoia right there, Jack. Have you been taking lessons?” He waited for a reply, before sighing. “I was out in town,” he said finally, choosing his words carefully and deliberately since he still hadn't figured out the end of his story yet, even as he got started with the beginning, “and I kind of got into a scuffle with this idiot near the Monument. You know what it's like, there are idiots everywhere and sometimes you've just gotta punch of of them.” He paused, before forcing a smile. “It was over a girl.”
“A girl?”
“Is that so hard to believe?”
“What girl?”
“I dunno, she was with him. Although she was almost with me at one point too.”
“What was her name?”
“Beats me.”
“What was his name?”
He shrugged. “Don't know, don't care. Believe me, he came off worst.”
“You got into a fight?”
He nodded.
“And you got blood on your fingers?”
“Which I'd like to wash off now, if you don't mind.”
“Who did you fight?”
“Does it matter?”
“Bowley's a small town.”
“It was some kid, some out-of-towner. I'd never seen him before, I think he was just passing through with his girlfriend.”
“What was the fight about?”
“What?”
“What was the fight about?”
“It was about...” Ben paused. “He just called me a name, that's all. I think I annoyed him by talking to his girl and he was just being an idiot, and to be honest I probably overreacted, and that's my bad. Hell, I guess I have a temper sometimes, right? You know, I'm not claiming to be an angel, really I'm not.” He waited to be left alone, with a hint of desperation in his eyes. “I learned a valuable lesson today. A guy can learn a lesson, can't he?”
Jack stared at him for a moment. “Sure,” he said finally, stepping back to allow his brother to shut the bathroom door. “Yeah, you definitely have a temper.”
“So is it alright if I get back to what I was doing?”
“Knock yourself out.”
Ben paused, before shutting the door and this time making sure it was locked. Heading back to the sink, he squeezed some more soap onto his hands before turning the heat up on the faucet and then gasping as he put his hands back under. The pain was getting worse, but he knew he couldn't stop, not until all the blood was gone, and then... Then he'd have to get out of town and never come back. He was a marked man in Bowley now, that much was certain. It was only a matter of time before someone found Garland Packer.
***
As soon as he saw the bus coming around the corner, Ben got to his feet and grabbed his backpack. He'd been at the stop for a couple of hours now, and fortunately he hadn't been seen by anyone he knew. Looking down at his sore, scalded hands, he counted his money again and realized that although he had enough to get far away, he'd be pretty much broke at the other end. He had friends he could stay with, a few people here and there, and he figured he could get by on scraps of hospitality for a while, maybe even a month if he was on his best behavior. After that, he'd need a better plan, but...
Still, that didn't matter, not right now. All that mattered was getting out of Bowley as fast as possible.
“Ben!” a voice called out suddenly. “Ben, wait up!”
Turning, he saw to his horror that his sister Beth was running toward him.
“I don't have time for this,” he told her, as the bus slowed for the stop.
“What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly as she reached him. “Jane said she saw you here a few minutes ago, she called to ask if I knew you were leaving.” She waited for a reply. “Are you leaving? Again?”
“I've got things to do.”
“I thought you were staying for a few more weeks?”
“Life moves on,” he replied. “Come on, you know I never stick around for too
long.”
The bus came to a stop next to him.
“Beth,” he continued, “listen, I don't have much time to explain, so -”
“Is it Jack?”
He paused.
“Is it Dad?” she added. “Is it both of them? Come on, you can't just leave town like this, it's crazy.” She grabbed his arm, desperately trying to keep hold of him. “Please stay. Please, Ben. I've just started to get used to having you around again.”
“There's a lot of things happening,” he replied, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that no-one else had spotted him. “Bowley isn't a good fit for me right now, I've got a lot of stuff going on.”
“Like what?”
He turned back to her.
“Please,” she continued, with tears in her eyes, “don't let Jack and Dad chase you away. You need to stand your ground with them for once.”
“There's a time for standing your ground,” he replied. “This isn't it.”
“Why not?”
“You coming?” the driver asked, clearly itching to get on his way.
“It just isn't,” Ben continued, climbing up and dropping his coins onto the plate. “I'll go as far as these'll take me,” he told the guy, before looking back down at Beth. It broke his heart to leave her, but at the same time he knew he couldn't tell her the truth. Somehow, Beth had always seemed pure and innocent, separate from all the other madness, and he didn't want to pollute her mind by even mentioning the name of a man like Garland Packer. “I'll be in touch,” he added, as the door swung shut. “I promise.”
Taking his ticket from the driver, he made his way along the aisle and slumped down into a seat. A moment later, the bus started up and he looked out just in time to see Beth watching him leave. He tried to smile, but he knew she'd see straight through any attempt to be cheery, so instead he simple waved at her. She didn't wave back; she just stood and watched as if she was close to sobs, and finally he had to turn and look down at his hands again.
“You don't understand,” he whispered, hoping against hope that maybe somehow she'd be able to hear his words. “After what I did... If I stick around, if I ever come back to Bowley, they'll kill me.”
I
Today
“Now, this is just a friendly chat,” Mr. Crutchlow continued, with a smile that seemed equal parts friendly and menacing. “We want to get a feel for you, Bob. Find out what kind of man you are, and whether you might fit in with our little community. Does that make sense to you?”
Above, the air-conditioning unit was humming particularly loudly, as if it was drawing air from some deep, far-off part of the building.
“Absolutely,” Bob replied, sitting up straight on the plastic chair in the middle of the room. He was trying to remember his mother's advice about posture, trying to give a good impression to the three men sitting behind the desk. Unfortunately, after years of slouching at his desk, good posture was painful. “I just hope, um...” He paused, trying to work out how to impress them. “I just hope you know that I truly appreciate being given this opportunity.”
“That's nice,” Mr. Crutchlow replied, making a note. On either side of him, his two colleagues sat stony-faced, watching Bob with hawkish calm.
“I, uh...” Bob couldn't help glancing over at the door in the corner. Was that the door he'd be allowed to go through, he wondered, if he was accepted? There was a knot of excitement in his belly, and he felt certain that whatever was waiting for him in the Border, it had to be more exciting than anything he'd ever experienced in his life. From what he'd already been told, he had some vague notion of a huge, dark nightclub where anything was allowed and where the girls danced around topless, ready to be plucked one by one from the glare of the lights and taken through to a back room. “I really appreciate the -”
Before he could finish, he felt a vibration in his pocket, and he realized his mobile phone was ringing, playing Single Ladies for the benefit of the room. He reached for it, before having second thoughts and deciding to just let it ring out.
“Is that your mobile cellular device?” Mr. Crutchlow asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “I believe they call them smartphones?”
His colleagues seemed to find this dryly amusing.
“I'm very sorry,” Bob told him. “Ignore it, it'll stop.”
“Perhaps you'd like to answer it.”
He shook his head. A moment later, the ringing stopped. “See?”
Mr. Crutchlow stared at him for a moment, clearly unimpressed, before looking back down at his notes. “I believe you -”
Suddenly Bob's phone beeped, indicating that a voicemail message had been left on his service.
“Now what is it doing?” Mr. Crutchlow asked.
“Ignore that,” Bob said with a broad, forced smile. “It's just a message.”
“I believe,” Mr. Crutchlow continued, “that you -”
Before he could get another word out, the phone started ringing again.
“Ignore it,” Bob said, nodding fervently. Reaching into his pocket, he took the phone out and tried to reject the call, only to accidentally answer it.
“Hello?” Candy could be heard saying, her voice tinny but recognizable. “Bob, are you going to talk to me or not? I just wanna say that -”
He cut the call, before turning his phone off.
“I'm truly sorry about that,” he continued, starting to sweat. “It won't happen again.” He slipped his phone away and waited for the three-member board to resume their interview, but as the seconds ticked past he began to realize that they were staring at him with barely-disguised bemusement. He could feel his opportunity slipping away. “You know what?” he said, realizing that he needed to make a gesture to prove his value, “screw the phone. I mean, they're stupid things anyway, right?” Pulling the phone back out of his pocket, he put one corner in his mouth and tried to bite it, to break the damn thing and show that it wouldn't ring again, but after a couple of tries he realized it was too tough. Instead, he set it on the floor and used his heel to try breaking the screen, but that didn't work either.
“Mr. Hague,” Mr. Crutchlow said after a moment, watching as Bob tried to bend the phone with his bare hands. “Are you quite alright?”
***
“I don't know what to say to you, buddy,” Tom Lanegan replied as they strolled across the town square. It was dark, around midnight, and while their trip to the Border had started out with so much promise, now it had utterly deflated. “Sometimes these things just don't work out.” He looked up at the night sky. “Maybe the stars just weren't aligned for you this time.”
“I don't think I came across well,” Bob replied, running over the interview in his mind. “If I could just have another shot -”
“Sorry -”
“But seriously,” he continued, stepping in front of Tom to block his way, “if we could just go back, and I could try again, I'm certain I'd be able to impress them. I'm always more impressive the second time around. Always.”
“Bob -”
“I've always been that kind of guy,” he added, trying but failing to keep from sounding desperate. “All my life, that's how things have been for me. The first time I try something, I almost always stuff it up, I admit that, but the second time... It's like, wow, the second time is the charm. Do you understand where I'm coming from here? That's the kind of person I am, the second time I always learn from my mistakes and I excel. You might even have noticed that about me at work.”
“I have.”
“So the point is... If I get a second chance to impress the people at the Border, I will nail it!”
“They don't do second chances,” Tom replied. “I'm sorry, but I told you over and over before you went in, it's a one shot kinda deal. I'm truly sorry it didn't work out this time, I really thought it would, but...” Sighing, he put a hand on Bob's shoulder. “Don't let it eat you up, my friend. You tried and you failed. We all fail at things in this life from time to time, and what defines us as men is how we de
al with those failures.”
“I deal with failure by succeeding the second time,” Bob said earnestly. “It's like my superpower.”
“And I'm sure that gets you by just fine on most occasions,” Tom continued, “but when it comes to the Border...” He paused, before letting go of Bob's shoulder and taking a step back. “I'm sorry, my friend, but I should get back. The night is young and, well, I'm sure you wouldn't want your own misfortune to get me down, would you?”
“You're going back there?” Bob asked mournfully.
“Hell, yeah.”
Bob paused, before sighing.
“You've got a beautiful wife,” Tom replied, “and a sweet daughter, and a hot little girlfriend on the side. Sometimes I feel like that'd be better than being a member of the Border. Only sometimes, like, when I'm depressed at five in the morning, when I'm wondering if life's worth living, but there are definitely moments when something familiar and comfortable appeals. For some people, that kind of set-up is better.” He smiled. “Well, it's a thought.”
“Sure,” Bob replied, “I... Have a good night. I'll see you at the office tomorrow.” Turning, he began to slouch away, heading through the shadows.
“Oh, hell,” Tom said suddenly, hurrying to catch up to him. “I can't let you slink off like this, all by yourself. You look like you're on the verge of blowing your goddamn brains out. How about we get one drink at the Monument before heading home?”
“That's be great. At least -”
“Wait,” Tom added, as if he'd suddenly remembered something. Stopping in his tracks, he checked his watch. “You know what? Another night, I would totally come and help you drown your sorrows, but actually tonight there's this really hot girl working at the Border and I don't wanna miss another second of her. Do you mind if we resume this conversation another night? Tomorrow, maybe?”
“Of course,” Bob replied. “No problem.”
