by Roxie Spears
“I don’t hate my life,” Beth said, glancing at him. “I kind of like the quietude, or maybe I’ve just grown used to it. Maybe I’m too comfortable.” She paused, considering. “Are you getting too comfortable here?”
“A little bit,” Gerald confessed. “Never really thought I’d be happy in a place like this, but there’s something about it.”
“A charm, I know.”
“Who do you dream of becoming?”
“A waitress,” Beth said, turning her palms over and shrugging. Gerald paused, searching her eyes for a reaction. “What? It’s my dream and I’ve accomplished it at the prime age of twenty-nine.”
“Yeah, of course. Sorry, I didn’t mean to look so surprised.”
Beth’s face changed. She rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out slightly, sending Gerald snickering.
“Oh, thank God,” he sighed.
“My dream was always to become an actress.”
“An actress? Wow, what kind of actress?”
“A theater performer. An artist; someone.”
Gerald’s face lit up. He was discovering parts of Beth that he didn’t even know existed. If anything he was flattered she was letting him in, trusting him like he did her. “Well, then what happened?” he asked after a long stretch of silence.
“Didn’t have the money or the dedication. I was drowning in problems. I was angry most of the time, still am. Then the years past and suddenly it was too late.”
“It never is,” Gerald said, or felt the need to say.
“Believe me, it is. Not because I’m too old for school, but because I’ve gotten comfortable. It’s a curse. I’m not making much money, but I’m not eating a lot, either. My apartment is cheap. I go for a beer every once in a while. I spend a lot of time alone.” She tossed her long hair over her shoulder and worked the coffee machine. Gerald gawked at her, a smile plastered to her face. “The place just sucked me in, and it’s doing the same to you.”
“I realize,” he said, stroking his beard. There was silence, save for the sound of moving propellers. Beth poured a cup of coffee and handed it to him.
“On the house,” she flashed him a half-smile. Gerald pulled her in and kissed her.
The two sipped their coffee together in silence, not saying much. It almost felt like Beth’s apartment was floating, like they were isolated; in their own universe.
“Oh, I just remembered,” Beth said, her legs slipping off the coffee table. She turned and faced Gerald, who was staring into the bottom of his cup. “Someone came in the other day looking for you.”
“What?” Gerald inched forward in his seat. He glanced at her suspiciously, feeling afraid, almost. “Who? Who was the man?”
“He didn’t say his name. But there was something off about him.”
Gerald’s heart skipped a beat. “Well, what did he look like?”
“He had black hair, it was sort of smoothed over, brushed back,” Beth gestured with her hand, waving it back over her head. “He had a scar across his face and neck.”
“Oh, God,” Gerald gasped, immediately rising to his feet. “I need to call my brother, I need to call Logan.” He ran around the room frantically in search for his shoes.
“What, is everything okay? D’you have to go?” Beth asked with her head cocked to the side. She watched Gerald scurry back into her room, later coming back out wearing his shoes.
“I need to call my brother,” he said, dialing Logan’s number and cradling the phone to his ear. “Come on, come on.”
“Hello?”
“Hey, are you okay?” Gerald spat, his eyes fixated on the TV set. He saw Beth’s reflection; her arms were crossed and she looked quite concerned.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just woke up. What’s wrong?”
Gerald breathed a sigh of relief. “Nothing, have you talked to Brian today?”
“Yeah, I just talked to him last night, actually,” Logan’s groggy voice came through. “He’s doing alright.” There was a brief pause. “Gerald, why am I getting a sense that something is terribly wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong, I’ll talk to you later,” he replied before hanging up. For a while he just sat there, his thumbs chasing each other. He raised his eyes to Beth’s before rising to his feet and charging towards her.
“I have to go, I’m really sorry,” he said, planting a kiss on her cheek. His head was spinning. “I’ll talk to you later.”
Chapter 11
In his haste, Gerald headed in the direction of the door. Beth followed him. “Where are you going?” she asked, chasing him down.
“I’ll explain later, promise,” he said, planting yet another kiss on her forehead and starting down the fire escape. Beth sighed. She watched him until he disappeared. She felt uneasy. All she could think about was that man at the diner, with his piercing eyes and long scar. Everyone was staring at him, and for good reason. Perhaps he was a well-known serial killer, and he was after Gerald and his family.
Beth shrugged and shook her head, not knowing what to think. She slumped down on the couch and began to think, feeling worried all of a sudden. A strange sentiment came over her, a feeling of unease and unjustified horror.
Something was about to happen. Time stood still when Beth heard a deafening gunshot, followed by a sustained roar. She hurled herself towards the floor, landing on her stomach with her arms folded above her head. A thousand car alarms were set off at the same time. They filled her ears, absolutely petrified her. She heard glass shatter and sprinkle on top of her. Some shards flew at her skin, stabbing her like a hundred tiny needles.
Beth remained on the ground for a couple of seconds, eventually scrambling to her feet and scurrying towards the window. The first thing she saw was an orange flame and smoke rushing out, billowing up in the air, obscuring her vision.
“Gerald! Gerald!” she shrieked, bending over the windowsill, eyes darting frantically. She looked for him. Some people were now standing at the windows or in their balconies, inspecting the disaster. They shrieked and conversed wildly, their faces blending into the rising smoke.
Beth didn’t wait. She grabbed her keys and bolted down the stairs. The crowd swallowed her. “Gerald, Gerald!” she shrieked again, looking for him in the sea of faces now surrounding his car, which had gone up in flames.
“What the hell happened here?” she heard a voice say.
“Gerald!” she yelled.
“Hey, lady? Is that your husband’s car?” a man asked her. Beth couldn’t think straight. The sky swam in and out of view; she blinked slowly, her eyes feeling heavy all of a sudden. She hated being conscious at this moment, and her body was rising to the occasion, almost like it wanted to soothe her, put her out of her misery.
Beth felt herself fall to the floor. She toppled face-first, landing onto a parked car. Her body then rolled off the hood and onto the pavement, where she lay on her back. There was a lot of noise, but she couldn’t comprehend anything. Her body slept but her brain flickered every now and again, like a fluorescence light about to go out entirely. All she heard was voices swirling all around her, entering her ears then exiting, people speaking gibberish.
“We need to get her to the hospital,” a woman said, the word “hospital” the only thing registering. Beth was awoken momentarily, only to be put to sleep again. She slipped in and out of consciousness, everything feeling like a distant memory, until something soft hit her nose, almost like cotton. A sweet, flowery smell infused with mint traveled up her nostrils, causing a burning sensation. Beth immediately arose, her brain awake again. Her first thought was Gerald and his car, and all that smog rising in the air.
“Are you alright? Come on, let’s help you up,” an elderly woman, who had been holding the clump of cotton to Beth’s nostrils, said. Slowly she got up and looked around her. She couldn’t tell if the crowd had thinned or gotten bigger, but she was swimming in an ocean of faces, all gathered around the monster metallic casualty.
Beth failed to find Gerald.
<
br /> “Is he in the car? Is anyone in the car?” she yelled into the void. An army of policemen were now gathered around, telling the people to stand back.
“The car’s empty,” one of them grunted into a walkie talkie. Beth didn’t know if what she heard was real, or if her mind was just playing tricks on her. Desperate, she began to squeeze her way through, eventually stumbling upon a sight that sent chills down her spine.
Standing at the edge of the crowd with his arms wrapped around himself was the man at the diner. His hair was sleek and pulled back, his scar fully visible. He seemed distraught at the sight of flames, but his face looked morbidly plastic. Standing alone, he gawked at the passersby, not saying anything. Beth felt an urge to walk up to him, ask him if he had anything to do with this, ask him where Gerald was.
“Gerald? Gerald!” she screamed again, like a mad woman. The people around her shook their heads and clasped the backs of their necks in discomfort. Beth didn’t care. She was hyperventilating, searching for the part of her that was gone. Only yesterday the two of them were in a blissful state, one that she hadn’t tasted in a long time, perhaps ever.
Beth dragged her feet in random directions, searching, searching, pleading. But there was no sight of him.
“Officer!” she wailed, waving her arms around. No one paid her any attention, until one, stubby looking police officer that resembled Billy started in her direction. His arms swung by his sides as he walked with exaggerated seriousness. “Please be honest, was there someone in the car?”
“No, ma’am,” he shook his head. Beth looked down and he had a light grip on his gun. She stumbled back and turned around, diving back into the crowd. She wanted to get as far away from the incident as she could. Smoke was still billowing into the sky, and it continued to rise up until the firemen arrived.
Beth went back up to her apartment. Staring out her window, she saw that man again. He seemed odd, or perhaps she was only trying to convince herself that he had something to do with this. Gerald did seem fairly distraught when she mentioned him. Maybe they were enemies, maybe the raven haired man with a scar across his face was one of them.
Her right arm hurt at the effect of the fall. She grabbed it, wincing slightly as she observed the people downstairs. Little by little, the crowd began to thin out, eventually dispersing, leaving only a few police officers and yards of yellow tape. She squinted at the car, which was now black like an enlarged chuck of coal. Just the thought of anything bad happening to Gerald made her miserable, made her want to scream at the top of her lungs. She was hysterical now, feeling the sudden urge to yell his name from the rooftops, to find him.
She thought back to their night together, how wonderful it was to have him in her arms. The truth was that Gerald didn’t feel like a stranger at all, in fact it was almost like she had known him her entire life. What a shame, she thought, that he would disappear from her life like that. When she searched for that man again, the one that she had deemed guilty, she didn’t find him. He, too, had disappeared without a trace.
Beth felt angry. Helpless. Someone had gotten away with his crime; who knew where he
was now?
Chapter 12
“Fuck, fuck!” Gerald wailed, grabbing his right leg. He had spent the past forty minutes trying to get to his apartment. He groaned under his breath, muttering profanities, dragging his feet down the dark corridor. It smelled musty today with a hint of oak. Gerald’s leg was bleeding. He winced, grabbing at the thick fabric of his jeans, dragging his feet to his apartment, which seemed far away like a mirage.
His ankle trickled blood. He moaned, finally reaching the door, holding onto the handle, trying to gather strength. Finally he stumbled inside, and collapsed on the couch, his hairline wet with sweat and his heart beating like a jackhammer.
When Gerald closed his eyes, the first he saw was Carr. Leaving Beth’s apartment, his head was spinning with sentiment. He could still smell her on him, and all he could think about on the way down was their night together. Beth in her night shirt and bird nest hair. Her freckled back, swimming into view the moment he opened his eyes. The bones of her back moving with the rhythm of her breath. Everything, everything. The first morning smile. That moment when he remembered what her face looked like all over again.
As he got into his car his mind was clouded with thoughts, but then something happened; an interruption, stopping him dead in his tracks. The roads were empty and there stood Carr, his feet wide apart and his arms stiff by his sides. Gerald gripped the car handle.
It all happened so fast. In a flashing moment, the man with a scar across his face spurted his wings and catapulted into the air. Gerald rolled out of his car and onto the asphalt. Suddenly orange flames filled his vision and his body was overcome with immeasurable pressure. An explosion sent him darting back, hitting the side of Beth’s building and falling behind the garbage disposal. He fell unconscious, his world fading to black, a feeling of eternal sleep overcoming him. It was strange, hearing all these noises, all that wailing but not being able to do anything about it. Gerald couldn’t get up or even move.
The recurring beeping of car alarms seeped into his consciousness; it was the only thing he could hear, the only thing that assured him he was alive. Then he heard her. She was calling out his name, the sound of her voice immeasurably desperate. He wanted her to find him, but his mind remained asleep, as though locked in a dark room with such little light, and then he drifted away again.
When Gerald woke up, the wailing had ceased. A pain shot up his right shoulder, which had been crushed under the weight of his body this entire time. He tried to roll over but failed miserably. His eyes shot up, squinting in the light drizzling behind the garbage disposal. A sour stench traveled up his nostrils, causing him to squirm. The first thing he did was reach up, gripping the edge of the can, which was rough and greasy to the touch, and hauling himself up. Gerald let out a loud, audible groan. By the looks of it, a lot of smoke had billowed into the air, but had dissipated with time. Now were just the remnants; a thin black mist traveling around above his head and settling in the sky above. A sharp exhaust smell bothered his lungs as Gerald rose from behind the big green metal structure. He looked around him, desperate to find Beth, but she was nowhere to be found. He looked up and she wasn’t standing at her window, either.
His car had turned into one huge clump of coal. Gerald’s hand snaked to the back of his neck as he thought back to what had happened. The heat of the explosion felt as though it would melt his skin off. As his body darted through the air Gerald felt the glass shards; they were like a million tiny needles stabbing into his skin, causing several miniature cuts. Those cuts, he thought, were even more unsettling than the pain in his shoulder, leg and arms combined.
A few police officers were standing around his car, inspecting it like a crime scene.
“Probably some deranged arsonist,” one of them groaned into his walkie talkie. Oh, he had no idea. Carr was far from a deranged arsonist, but how would they know that?
“Maybe one of those Islamists?” another officer relayed.
Gerald walked away without anyone noticing him. He clutched his leg and hailed a cab.
“Is everything okay here?” the man asked, popping his head out the window.
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Gerald said. He had walked a block before calling a cab to avoid questions like this.
“I see smoke over there. What the hell happened here?”
Gerald hopped in, anyway. His leg was obviously bleeding and his face was covered in scratches. Despite the man’s persistent questioning, he was reluctant to provide him with answers. Eventually, he stopped and lit a cigarette.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Beth. Surely she had heard the explosion, and surely she was the woman belting out his name. Had her voice presented itself to him as a hallucination? Had she come down at all? Gerald shook his head and cleared his throat. He heard sirens everywhere. West Haven was a safe town; surely an explos
ion would wreak havoc among its citizens.
“Here,” he nudged the cab driver, handing him a couple of bills. The man checked them; they were crumpled up and not up to par, but he didn’t object.
* * *
Gerald’s fingertips became wet with the salty dew trickling down his forehead. His body was heating up. He wrapped his arms around himself and rocked gently. Suddenly he was faced with the realization he had been avoiding all along. He needed to leave West Haven.
Kristoff Makinen had probably sent his men off to find him; Carr was only one of many. Snakes were sent off slithering, stopping at nothing before finding him. Gerald was quick to dial Logan’s number.
“He’s here.”
“Who’s here?” Logan’s voice was troubled, to say the least.
“Carr.”
There was a pause. “What? Oh, where are you? Where are you right now?” Logan was flustered, seemingly pacing the room, breathing heavily.
“I saw him today. He tried to kill me.”
“Fuck, fuck!” Logan yelled. Gerald was startled by the sound of something shattering. “Fucking hell,” he mumbled under his breath.
His brother stayed with him on the line while he picked up the remnants of a broken glass. Logan breathed heavily still, like he was suffocating. “You need, you need to get out of there,” he said, his voice trembling.
“I know, and I’m going to. I don’t know where I’m headed next, but I need to call Brian.” Gerald hung up and dialed his brother’s number.
“Hello?” he said, his voice well.
“Carr tried to kill me.”
Just like Logan, Brian paused and swallowed. The tension electrified the air, expanding the distance between them, like they were worlds apart. “You need to leave West Haven.”
“I know, I’m just letting you know that I’m leaving,” Gerald stated. “But I don’t know where I’m going yet. I want you to take care of yourself, alright? The Makinens are onto us and-”
