The man had a look of confusion, but nodded back and said, “You too!”
Spencer smiled, winked, and gave him a companionable thumbs up.
He doesn’t even know you, said the Voice.
“He doesn’t know that,” Spencer said, taking a puff of his cig. He continued moving through the plant like he belonged there, checking his watch and waving to guys along the assembly line. He gave a wink to one lady with a clipboard, and she smiled back, then looked away, no doubt embarrassed that she didn’t remember him.
There were at least fifty men drilling boards and slapping the sides onto the wooden floors of the big boxes at the back of the trucks. One man hollered at Spencer, perhaps asking who he was, but above the din and confusion of all the pneumatic tools going at once he just shouted, “I’m a penguin and this is my dog shit,” and kept walking with an air of importance. The other man just looked away, went back to working.
That didn’t make any sense.
“Doesn’t need to. Just needs to sound authoritative,” he said. Their shared Connection went two ways, and Spencer could feel the careful steps the girl was taking through his mind, simultaneously wanting a peek and not wanting a peek. “Seventy percent of what people respond to is how a person looks, twenty percent is how they sound, an’ only ten percent to what they actually say. If ya decide to, ya know, actually stand up and fight for yer life tonight, ya might live long enough to read a book on psychology. This shit’s easy. Like takin’ candy from a baby. Observe.”
Ahead of him was a Penske truck, one that looked like it was almost ready to leave out the back bay door. A big red sign over the bay door read QUALITY CONTROL INSPECTION AREA, and Spencer moved right past a man with a clipboard standing at the back. He knew the keys would probably be left in the ignition, and when he opened the driver’s side door and hopped in the cab he was not disappointed to find that it was so. If they hadn’t been, he would’ve just asked someone, and they probably would’ve just given him the keys. Spencer started it up and put it in gear.
The man with the clipboard walked up to the cab and shouted, “Hey, where the fuck you goin’?”
“Some o’ Nathan’s bullshit! Penske reps called an’ said they want this truck jackfrost-butt-fucked-a-turtle! I’m as unhappy as you are! Go talk to Nathan!” he shouted, and drove out the front bay door into the rain, leaving the QC inspector standing there shaking his head ruefully. “One thing you can always count on,” he told the Voice in his head as he switched on the windshield wipers, “is that no matter where ya go in the world, people hate their bosses. There’s always bullshit goin’ around that makes no sense. The system’s a façade. An illusion. Just do the barest amount o’ homework an’ then bullshit yer way through the rest of it. You’ll come out on top every time.”
You’re a liar. A thief. And a murderer! You’re no different than Dmitry!
“No, Dmitry kills for a reason,” he said, inhaling smoke. “I don’t. He rapes to fill a hole in his heart, and kills to get rid o’ the shame as much as the evidence. I kill because I’m bored an’ I take offense easily. An’ I get away with it because I’m the greatest guy in the universe. I’m not sayin’ that’s an excuse, and I’m not askin’ to be excused. It’s important to me that you see the difference.”
Why?
“Because I’m comin’ to save yer ass, an’ I’m the only one who can do it. I need you focused an’ I need you to trust me.” Talking about Dmitry was invigorating. He still recalled that look he’d given. So even, so confident, so smug. Well, okay, the smugness was probably just imagined—Dr. McCulloch had pointed out it out that Spencer was prone to imagining sleights, and was absolutely right, he knew that much—but the guy was still obviously a shit-eater in need of correction. He thinks he rules the roost. He thinks this whole city’s his roost. Spencer smiled. He could not wait to prove otherwise.
You could still call the police! the Voice pleaded.
Spencer pulled out of the rear parking lot and onto Mansell Road, heading north. “I already told you that Dmitry an’ his pals have somebody on the force—”
You can’t know that—
“Bet me,” Spencer chuckled, taking another toke.
What?
“Bet me,” he repeated. “I’ll tell you what, if you an’ me survive this, an’ it turns out I was right, then I’m gonna visit you on yer twenty-first birthday, and you’ll pay me every nickel you’ve got in the bank. How’s that sound?”
You’re playing with my life! With my sister’s life!
“And you’re not, and that’s the fucking problem, sister. Now, get up and start stalling those dickheads. Or lay there an’ die. Either way, I’m on my way.” Spencer made it through the next four stoplights, and, just as the man had said, there was Huckleby Ridge Road on his left. He made the turn and glanced in his rearview mirror. So far, no one was following him; no sirens, and nobody from Keegan Corporation was coming to reclaim their property. “Smooth sailin’ from here,” he said, and reached to his waistline to make sure the Glock was still tucked snugly away.
Kaley had been speaking to air for several minutes. She was well aware of Bonetta crouched in a corner on the other side of the room, terrified of so many things. The fear now washed over her, fed her, gave her nourishment. Something had changed inside of her. Kaley didn’t know what it was, but she was almost certain that it had to do with a chemical imbalance.
Chemical imbalance. That’s what the doctors said of her vertigo.
Ricky used to say that he believed what the Chinese believed, that everything in life must have a yin and a yang, and if anything ever had more yin than yang, or more yang then yin, then there was sickness, depression, mental problems, instability. Did the psychopath, her monster, therefore have too much yang?
So ya think that’s my problem? she heard him say from somewhere right beside her. I don’t have enough yin in my life? What about you, then? Not enough yang? Kaley could feel him laughing, and it sickened her.
Something else sickened her, too. It was Little Sister. She was alone out there, shoved into another room and locked up. In pain. In darkness. Shannon was scared of the dark.
Kaley lay there practically catatonic, exactly as Little Sister was. They didn’t have the Anchor from this distance, but they shared the charm, and thus a loose Connection. She felt the painful swelling of her sister’s lower regions, the burning, the tears, the bleeding. Kaley lay there with the knowledge that her sister had been the victim of something horrible, it had happened just on the other side of the door beside her, and she hadn’t been able to do a damn thing about it. Now Little Sister was alone with the shame and the pain. Well, not entirely alone. They both shared the sickening emotions, so slippery and cumbersome, holding them back from fighting back, from doing what must be done.
The monster’s words came back to her. “Lay there and get raped and fuckin’ die,” he had said. “Die without even givin’ them a fight. See if I give a fuck. See if anybody gives a fuck.” And he was right. Nan was gone. So was Ricky. Aunt Tabby might care, and Mom would care, but only so much as it affected her. That was Jovita Dupré’s way. And that would always be her way. She thought she loved her two daughters, but really and truly she only loved the idea of them, something that gave her life purpose, two little pets that made her feel loved unconditionally, made her feel like she had accomplished something in life. On some level, Kaley had always sensed this. The charm had told her the truth. Love was mostly selfish. While Jovita Dupré would certainly fight for her daughters (if she even knew they were in trouble), she would only be fighting for a part of herself. Jovita Dupré would be sad to see her two loving pets go, the pets she hadn’t quite trained to love her back, but she imagined they did. Otherwise, Kaley and Shan would’ve been out on the street just like any other strays.
Yes, love was selfish. At least, most love was. Some love was truly empathetic, self-sacrificing. Minutes ago when Kaley screamed for Olga and Dmitry and Mikhael to take her, she
had meant it. She would’ve done anything to spare Shannon that pain, and she could sense Shannon’s own guilt for bringing the emotional pain on Big Sister. And Kaley felt horrible for making Little Sister fell so horrible. They were thinking of one another, a truly empathetic feedback, not any kind of stingy, self-absorbed idea of compassion.
Then, Kaley began to see. She couldn’t say exactly where the dawning came from, only that once it came, it cast its light far and wide, pushing away the shadows that ensconced certainty. You have to ward yo’ heart, chil’, Nan had said. That meant shut it off. Shut it out. Shut out all empathy and compassion. Turn away from it. Was that what Nan meant to say?
Then, she heard a voice coming through the walls, a voice that Bonetta Harper never heard. Listen to the monster, Kaley, Shannon was saying. Listen to what he’s saying. He knows what he’s talking about. Little Sister sounded incredibly lucid. Whatever had happened to her had transformed her. There was anger there…that was unusual for Little Sister. Little Sister had always been so compassionate.
“But…I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t shut you out, Shan. I won’t…I won’t leave you. How can I?” Tears and snot leaked down on either side of her face. How could she? How could she just dump all of her attachments on Little Sister? How could she just be rid of them all at once and focus? There was too much history between them. It was the same predicament a person had on a sinking ship, holding onto a loved one being sucked down into the vortex created as the ship went down. If you let go, you survive, but the other person…
Kaley knew despair now. She knew the despair of those unfortunate souls who became so overly emotional that they took their own lives. Those despondent folks who committed suicide rather than live another day with their Ocean of Sorrow. It was not so easy as one might think to make oneself not care anymore about anyone.
If ya can’t stand on your own two feet, how are you ever gonna help anybody? Those weren’t Shannon’s words. Those words had come from another place. A slippery place filled with quicksand and swift traps. It was the monster, of course. So confident, so stubborn, so sure that he had all the answers.
Listen to him, Kaley. Listen to what Nan said. Ward your heart. You…you have to do this for us. I can’t. I…I just can’t. I’m not strong enough.
“Neither am I,” Kaley said.
Then you’re both fuckin’ dead. The monster. He could hear them? He could hear Shannon, too? ’Course I can fuckin’ hear you. You’re both in my head. It’s gettin’ awfully fuckin’ crowded in here.
“Get out of my head!” she commanded.
You get outta mine first, he said, laughing alone in his Penske truck. You saw what I did, an’ I’ve seen some of what your mother has done to you. Neglected you. Neglected everybody. Neglected her sister Tubby—
“Tabby!”
—and yer dear ol’ Nan, he went on, unfettered. Yeah, sweet Jovita Dupré. So selfish. An’ look at her. She’s survived how many years with how many different men? That’s how she survived, little girl. She whored herself out an’ fucked whatever would have her to survive. It’s called a survival mechanism, every creature has it, some stronger than others. Now get the fuck up! I’m tired o’ hearin’ this shit.
“I can’t—”
Jovita Dupré’s lived her whole life as a selfish cunt. Ya figured out love yourself just a second ago. It’s mostly selfish. So, how come you don’t get to be selfish? Just this once?
Kaley started to say something in retort, but discovered that she was out of excuses, out of places to run to, out of time, out of everything. It frightened her with just how much sense the monster was making. Then, for just a moment, she let the Connection slip. She lost all sight and feeling with the impressions the other children had left in this room. She lost her Connection with Bonetta, with the monster, and even with Little Sister. Then, the discipline wavered. Just when she felt herself about to give in to the monster’s logic and let go, the charm reconnected her to everyone and everything.
Her body and mind were suddenly wracked with guilt, shame, pain, and above all fear. The guilt was then so powerful that she felt hate. She hated herself. It twisted in her gut and soured. She almost vomited. Kaley had never hated herself so much, and was suddenly trapped in a world of self-loathing.
Ya know what Carl Sagan said, the monster said to her playfully.
“If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe,” Spencer said, turning the big yellow Penske truck onto Kingsley Street. “Lao Tzu said the journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step. Now that’s two people who are smarter than you tellin’ you that you gotta start somewhere. Got it?”
No reply. Spencer didn’t bother pushing it.
The street ahead was ill-lit, and the houses on either side were somewhere on a scale between brand new and decrepit, utterly unremarkable except for two that had cameras posted on the front porch over the door. Spencer noticed these almost at once. Security, and how to circumvent it, had been something of a hobby of his for the better part of a decade, and so cameras stuck out to him as he was sure a wrongly mixed oil paint would’ve stuck out to van Gogh.
The thought of Dmitry’s cocky face returned to him. It came from out of nowhere, and it made him hard. The rain had stopped, but there was electricity in the air.
“I have a feeling I’m gettin’ closer,” he told the owner of the Voice. “But there’s still a ways to go. I’d recommend creating any confusion that you can. I’m gonna need it when I get there. This truck’s hard to miss. When I pull this big bastard up, they’re gonna notice me pretty fast if they’re all still awake. You there? Ya still with me, partner?”
A moment of silence.
Then, Yeah. I’m here. And I’m moving.
Spencer nodded, smiling. So far this night had been the most remarkable of his life. Well, actually that was debatable, but it certainly ranked. As he drove down Kingsley Street, waiting for it to turn into Umway Street as the man at the plant had said through his ruined teeth, Spencer felt as though he were driving deeper into the Twilight Zone. If that were so, then this would be the part where things turned out to be not to be as they had previously seemed, and there would be some unexpected moral that come from it, a logic that only made sense in the realm that Rod Serling occupied.
His stomach growled. He was still hungry. I need to eat somethin’.
The time on the glowing dashboard said 4:37 AM. It had been four hours since he ate that burger at Dodson’s, and his entire plan for the night had changed. The job he’d meant to do for Pat was almost totally scrapped, but if he finished with Avery Street quickly enough he might just be able to grab the necessary RFID chip and the Dodge Dart and be out of town with some extra scratch.
Up ahead, he spotted a yellow sign that said Umway Street was just a mile up.
Spencer smiled, and whistled the familiar theme song. “You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension: a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. That’s the signpost up ahead. Your next stop, the Twilight Zone!”
Kaley rolled over onto vomit that she didn’t recall vomiting, and pressed her hands against the floor. She’d never been any good at push-ups, yet she managed one. Well, half of one, her knees came up to help her the rest of the way. “I’m moving,” she told the monster. She hoped this satisfied him. The more she appeased him, the less he went prodding around inside her mind.
Bonetta Harper said, “You…you okay, girl?”
“Girl,” she says. So we’re supposed to be friends now?
Kaley made no reply. She stood up on wobbly legs. She felt as though she’d been raped herself, as though she’d been drugged, as though she’d been clubbed over the head repeatedly. A migraine started just behind her eyes and traveled to the back of her brain. She staggered and touched the wall for support. When she did this, a thrill went up her arm,
and she felt the torment of others who had imbued the wall with their essence, their fears, their torment. She pulled her hand away quickly, and then warded her heart as best she could. Kaley then tested the wall by touching it again, tentatively at first, with only her fingers. The charm didn’t assault her this time, and the migraine started to abate.
“You okay?” Bonetta asked again.
And again, Kaley made no reply. She sighed a quivering sigh, and turned around and around, taking in the room. Her eyes, whether on purpose or by accident she didn’t know, finally landed on the vent cover she had been going for only minutes ago. A camera? she thought. The monster had suggested as much. It made sense, she supposed. They would have to monitor their captives somehow.
You can control what they see, the monster had said. Or, at least, what they think they see.
“Bonetta,” she said. “Come here.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. Just…just come over here.” The charm was still strong enough that she felt the swelling power of Bonetta’s trepidation, but eventually the girl overcame it enough to stand up from the corner and approach. She still squeezed her locket hopefully, though. “Come here,” Kaley said. Bonetta stopped just short of her, as if afraid to catch a disease from her, and Kaley started whispering. “I want you…to come over here and give me a hand.”
“A hand with what?”
“I know how to pick locks,” Kaley said. And all at once, she knew that the monster had to be right. Not only did it make sense that there would be cameras watching them, but just think about the timing! Olga, Dmitry, and Mikhael had all come in at once, at the exact moment that Kaley had been looking up at the vent, at the exact moment that she had been convincing Bonetta to give her a hand getting up to it.
Psycho Save Us Page 31
