Pancake. He had almost forgotten. They had been walking down the Pearl Street Mall in Boulder, holding hands, and he remembered thinking how he couldn’t come up with a pet name for her, as though having a pet name had meant everything. He had wanted to come up with the perfect name for the longest time, and walking downtown with her that day, he’d finally thought of it. He’d been trying to explain something to her, something he couldn’t quite remember now, but all he’d said when he was done was, “You know what I mean, pancake?” She’d burst out laughing so hard, she had to stop walking to wipe the tears from her eyes. She’d loved that name.
He wanted to remind her of this, but he was terrified. Because deep in his heart, he knew she would not recollect that name, that time, or the disco ball. He was surprised when her arms reached up and around him. But when she spoke, horror embraced his heart like a block of ice
“Sadie’s cold, Austin,” she said. “I’m going to warm him. They promised eternity, and I think it’s best for all of us. You stay here with Rudy, okay? A boy needs his dad.”
Austin closed his eyes. The walls were closing in again. How had all this happened so quickly, as though he were being sucked down a drain?
“Don’t miss me when I’m gone,” Mattie said.
v
Malcolm studied the interior of Argason’s Butcher, more unnerved than relieved. Argason’s Butcher was like any ordinary meat counter at your local grocery store except for the tracks along the ceiling where Jamey hung the carcasses to skin and butcher the game local hunters brought in.
In front, a large glass cabinet held a variety of chops, steaks, ground meat, sausage, bacon, and poultry. Argason dealt in the finest meats. That’s what Jamey told him.
“I thought all cows were the same,” Malcolm said.
Jamey shook his head but smiled. “Depends on how they’re cared for and fed. Animals who eat right make for more quality meat.”
“Huh,” Malcolm said.
Jamey simply smiled.
During elk and deer season, hunters brought in their kills, and Jamey skinned, cut, chopped, sliced, and packaged. Jamey would teach Malcolm how to skin a deer and elk if he wanted, but Malcolm shuddered at the idea.
“I get moose, too,” Jamey said. “Farmers bring in pigs.”
It did smell strongly of cured meats, Malcolm thought. It also bordered on the edge of a bad horror movie.
“You don’t mind cutting up animals?” Malcolm asked. He sat on a stool in front of the meat counter. Jamey was on the other side, packaging the meat of a pig William Hollister had brought in several days ago.
“Not when they’re already dead,” Jamey said. “Killing them’s kinda gruesome.”
“You kill them, too?” Malcolm was shocked.
“Just the pigs,” Jamey said. “You should hear ’em squeal. Give you nightmares for weeks.”
Malcolm suppressed a shudder.
“Am I scaring ya?” Jamey asked.
Malcolm shook his head. “How did you get started?” he asked.
“Started working with my grandpa. He was a little crazy. Bash in the heads of enough pigs, it’s bound to make you a little crazy, I guess. Sorry. It was a summer job when I was sixteen. It just kinda…stuck, I guess. Get it?” Jamey smiled.
“Huh?” Malcolm said.
“Like a pig,” Jamey explained. “Stuck. Never mind.”
Malcolm thought it a disturbing trade. Who wanted to spend their lives covered in blood, chopping through meaty animals? Malcolm thought about the phantom on horseback again.
“I didn’t see any kids chasing you,” Jamey said, as if sensing his thoughts. He was not looking at Malcolm when he said this.
“They didn’t follow me down the alley,” Malcolm lied.
“Hmmm,” Jamey said, looking up. His eyes were large and brown, hair trimmed short. He had a friendly face, despite his macabre trade. Malcolm supposed if you butchered animals for a living, you had to eventually have a warped sense of humor about it. The size of the man was intimidating, though. To Malcolm, he seemed like a grizzly bear in a red flannel shirt.
“Always have a share of bullies, it seems,” Jamey said, as if talking to himself. “Plenty of ’em growing up. Being black and all. Amazing how cruel kids can be. Makes being a youngster a real pain in the ass sometimes. Sometimes, I think school isn’t about teachin’ at all, but gettin’ through school without gettin’ killed.”
Malcolm nodded, feeling guilty for lying, but didn’t think he had a choice.
“You all right?” Jamey asked.
Malcolm looked up. “Huh?”
“Daydreaming?”
“Uh. No…just…I don’t know…I guess so.”
Jamey looked at Malcolm for a few seconds more. “You didn’t really have bullies chasing you now, did you, scholar?”
Malcolm turned bright red. He sat quiet and still for a long time. The truth would be easy enough to tell. It was the lunacy of it that worried him. But in the next second, he was surprised how easily it came out:
“I don’t know what was chasing me, Mr. Argason.” Malcolm looked at Jamey, trying to convince the butcher, in a glance, that it was the best he could do. “To be honest, I don’t know what it was.”
Jamey set a package of bacon aside and gave Malcolm all his attention. He wiped his hands on his apron. “Are you all right, son?”
“I think I’d better go, Jame…Mr. Argason,” Malcolm said, getting off the stool. “Thanks for letting me stay…”
“Now, hold on a minute there. I don’t listen to no ‘Mr. Argason.’ You just park it right there, scholar. I ain’t gonna squeal to your daddy. You need to talk about something, I’m here to listen. Got it?”
Malcolm hesitated, then nodded. “Jamey?”
“Yeah?”
Malcolm took a deep breath, pausing. “Have you ever seen anything…” Malcolm shook his head. He took another deep breath. Why was he doing this? “You ever…I don’t know…seen anything…strange around here?”
“What do you mean by ‘strange’?” Jamey said, frowning.
Malcolm looked at Jamey for a long time. “I don’t know…evil?”
The shop’s walls moved in around Malcolm. The smell of the meat was stronger, the red more pronounced. He was in a slaughterhouse after all. Chased by a monster, and here he was sitting in an abattoir. For all he knew, Jamey Argason and the phantom were one and the same. He suddenly couldn’t take his eyes off the bloodstained apron Jamey wore.
“Boy?” Jamey said, looking concerned. “Are you okay? You’re as white as a sheet.” Jamey came around the counter, motioning Malcolm toward the rear of the store. The man opened the back door, and they stepped outside. The smell of refuse from the dumpster hit Malcolm, making him ill. He didn’t know if it was the phantom or the smell of raw meat. Despite the dumpster, the buzzing flies, the air did feel good. Malcolm breathed easier. The color returned to his cheeks.
“I’m kind of scared to go home,” Malcolm said. “By myself, I mean.”
He looked down the alley, trying to see—through the mesh of dumpsters, the back of the shops—a horse’s head, a top hat peering around a corner.
“Something was chasing me, Mr. Argason,” Malcolm said, not looking at the butcher. “But it wasn’t a bully.”
Jamey studied Malcolm for a moment. He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Son, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I’ll take you home, if that’s what’s bothering you. No one buys meat this early anyway.” Jamey tried to win Malcolm’s affection by smiling. “Would you like me to take you home?”
Malcolm took a deep breath and nodded.
“Come inside, son, while I lock up,” Jamey said. “We’ll take the truck.”
Malcolm waited inside by the door, not wanting to be alone in the alley. Jamey locked up the shop, took off his apron, and followed Malcolm outside. He guided the boy to a yellow Ford parked on the other side of the dumpster. Malcolm hadn’t noticed it before.
&nb
sp; Jamey opened the passenger’s side, and Malcolm climbed in. Soon, Jamey hopped in behind the wheel, and stuck the key in the ignition. He started the truck. Driving down the alley, he steered onto Main Street, heading north through town.
vi
“I’m not sure what it was,” Malcolm said, as they drove, passing various shops along the way. Malcolm noticed the streets teeming with people now, businesses open, everything back to normal. Soon, the road ended, turning to dirt, and the pick-up bounced along Shadowbrook Lane. Jamey’s tools clanked in the bed of the truck. The trees were in full bloom along the road, making a canopy of shade.
Jamey did not reply. He let the boy tell his story.
“It was…a phantom, I think,” Malcolm said, staring through the windshield.
Why are you doing this, he asked himself? It’s crazy! You just met him!
Malcolm didn’t know why he was telling this story, but he felt pressed to do so. He knew it was crazy, but the words came anyway. He needed to tell this story, and Jamey (whether he’d just met him or not) needed to hear it. Or so he told himself. Malcolm thought maybe he just needed to get it off his chest, no matter who believed him or how ridiculous it was.
Jamey raised his eyebrows, waiting for Malcolm to continue.
“He was on a horse,” Malcolm said, carefully. “I was walking down Main Street. Sometimes, I like to come into town and just walk around, you know, buy something. It doesn’t make me feel so cooped up in the house.
“Anyway, I was walking down the road, and this…thing was standing down the block from me. I couldn’t see its face. It wore a top hat, a long cape. It was sitting on a horse. I got this feeling…” Malcolm looked at Jamey for the first time since they started driving.
“I think...” he said, not sure how to go on. “I think I saw what killed Sadie McCall.”
Malcolm paused and looked at Jamey again, trying to read the butcher’s face. The man nodded, whether crediting Malcolm’s story or not, he couldn’t tell.
“That would explain a lot,” Jamey said. “No shoes on. He was found in his pajamas, wasn’t he? Nothing logical explains it, that’s for sure.” Jamey shrugged, shook his head, and took a deep breath. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I’ve never been one to believe in…things of that nature. It’s a hard one to swallow, son.”
“You think I believe it?” Malcolm asked, suddenly defensive. “I saw it, and I don’t believe it, either. I know you think I’m just a stupid kid. You think I’m trying to play a joke on you, or something, don’t you?”
“Now, son,” Jamey said, taken aback. “I didn’t say that. I just said it was a hard one to swallow.”
They were silent for the rest of the way. The house came into view through the trees, a silent sentinel on the outskirts of town. Jamey’s eyes widened at the sight of it.
“There’s more,” Malcolm said, as Jamey brought the truck to a stop.
The man waited, looking his way. He nodded a single time.
“His face,” Malcolm said, carefully. “It wasn’t a face. It was…dead. Like a skull.”
Jamey’s eyes welled up with tears. If Malcolm didn’t know any better, he’d say he was scaring Jamey Argason a little.
“Crazy, huh?” Malcolm said.
“Gives me chills, if you really want to know.” Jamey looked at the dark and silent house. “Looks like you guys could use a little maintenance.” He nodded, indicating the bare boards, the ill-kept lawn, the dirty windows.
“Mr. Argaso—Jamey?” Malcolm said. “Don’t go blabbin’ this to anyone, ’kay? I know it sounds crazy, but I’m not crazy. I know what I saw.”
Jamey had never heard a boy speak with such conviction before. Either the kid was the finest actor he’d ever seen, or he was telling the truth. Either way, the boy believed what he’d seen.
“Thanks for the ride,” Malcolm said, opening the door. He stepped out and shut it after him, looking at Jamey through the open window. Malcolm tried to smile, but it was forced. He nodded and started toward the house.
“Hey, scholar!”
Malcolm turned.
“I don’t think you’re crazy. You got that? And I don’t blab.” Jamey Argason smiled, showing his dazzling array of teeth.
Malcolm nodded.
“Come by and see me again, okay?” Jamey said. “We’re officially friends as far as I’m concerned. You got that? We’ll have a barbecue or something.”
This time, Malcolm grinned wide, and nodded.
“I mean it, son,” Jamey said. He put his hand in the air, waving goodbye. He put the truck in reverse and headed back down the road.
Malcolm walked to the porch, turned, and watched Jamey drive away. When the butcher was out of sight, he sighed and walked up the steps. He opened the front door, feeling as though he were walking into the mouth of a colossal dragon.
vii
In the master bedroom, his wife stood by the dresser. Austin McCall witnessed a turn for the worst.
Life back, he thought. Too late to get our lives back.
Mattie was quick to pull away. Ignoring the tears, Austin watched as Mattie turned, listening to a voice only she could hear. She crouched, petting the head of an imaginary person. A dog? It was hard to tell. Austin watched his wife in hopeless dread.
“Precious child,” Mattie said.
But Austin had a feeling she wasn’t talking to Sadie.
Mattie cocked her head. From where Austin stood, he could just make out a tiny smile on her lips. Maybe it was the lost, dead look in her eyes, the way she whispered as if she and this imaginary person shared a secret. It terrified Austin. He hadn’t realized Mattie was clinically insane.
“Mattie?”
She did not look at him. Wherever she was, it wasn’t in the master bedroom.
“We’ll get you the prettiest dress,” she said. “Pink. Or bright yellow. You need bright colors, because you’re such a bright and pretty girl.”
“Mattie,” Austin said, losing patience. No, it wasn’t Sadie. Who was this little girl? Was Mattie talking to a ghost?
He must’ve gotten through somehow because she stood up. Ignoring, for the time being, whomever she was talking to, Mattie turned and faced her husband. “What!” she shrieked. “What! You bastard! What! Don’t you harm my baby!”
A whirlwind passed before his eyes. He’d had a wife at one time, but not now. Austin looked at something he hoped he’d never see again. His wife, for some hellish reason, had turned into a raging beast. He was suddenly in fear for his life. The voice was alien, coming from her throat, yes, but it was one he didn’t recognize, as if he were confronting the devil himself.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Coldness moved through his bones. He was looking at something…evil.
“Mattie?” he said. “It’s Austin. Your husband!”
Every second counts, he thought, every precious, loving second. Make the most of them, pancake.
Mattie’s eyes were wild. Something evil had taken her. Who was it staring at him with those black, lifeless orbs?
She launched herself at him, nails reaching for his eyes. Austin grabbed Mattie’s forearms, throwing her off balance.
Good God, he thought. What’s happening to us? Is this what we’ve become?
Mattie kicked. Her shoes gouged his shins. She screamed and clawed, taking off a layer of skin from his temple, drawing blood.
Austin forced Mattie to his right. He tried throwing her onto the bed. She kicked again, lashing out with her foot, but she slipped and went down hard, taking Austin with her. She cracked her head on the nightstand. The sound made Austin wince, and Mattie fell motionless to the floor.
“Oh, my God,” Austin said, on the verge of tears. He held her chin, turning her face toward him. “Oh, my God, Mattie. Wake-up. Please.”
Surprised, he looked down, and Mattie’s eyelids fluttered. She opened her eyes and tried to sit up, holding her head. Blood trickled down the side of her face.
“Mattie?” Austi
n said.
She blinked several times, focusing on her husband.
“Mattie?” he said, again. The beast, the thing turning her eyes black, was gone.
She saw him for the first time, a blank, glassy stare, but the natural green of her eyes was there again.
They sat together on the floor by the bed. Austin held her hand.
“It’s Austin, baby. Your husband. Please. I’m right here.”
He was looking at a total stranger. Surprising him, however, Mattie smiled.
Life returned to Austin’s body. She recognized him! He couldn’t believe it!
“Austin, dear?” Mattie said, wavering.
Tears came into his eyes. She tilted her head, an adoring, infantile look. She might not be the old Mattie, but she wasn’t that far gone, either.
“Mattie,” Austin said. “I love you.”
He held his arms out, praying she would welcome the embrace. They’d been away from each other for a long time, it seemed.
“Oh!” Mattie said, and hugged Austin fiercely.
Austin buried his nose in her hair, smelling peach shampoo, or was it apricots?
Just don’t let go, Mattie, Austin thought. If we stay like this, maybe we’ll all come back. Just stay. We can keep this. We don’t have to lose anything anymore. We can have it all back, maybe not the same, but something…magic, our family, strength, hope even…yes, we need some of that right now.
Just stay.
Just stay…
While he held her, Austin tried willing these thoughts into his wife’s head. He didn’t know if he was getting through or not. It was important to remain as gentle and loving as possible. Otherwise…
Just don’t blow it.
The voice was not his. Austin clenched his eyes shut and tried to ignore it.
In his mind, a dark shape stood at the end of a long corridor.
Snapdragon Book I: My Enemy Page 14
