Dead Push (Kiera Hudson Series Two#7)

by Tim O'Rourke

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Potter

  We sat in silence for most of the car journey back to Kiera’s apartment. I was counting down the minutes until she finally said what I knew she had been dying to say since leaving the house of the dead boy.

  “You heard what that woman said, didn’t you?” Kiera finally remarked.

  “What was that?” I said, lighting a cigarette and opening the window so I could blow the smoke out. The rain had stopped, but the wind battered into the side of her tiny car.

  “The woman said that her brother claimed the teachers at the school were checking the girls to see if they had wings,” Kiera said, watching the road ahead.

  “The kid was freaking suicidal,” I remarked. “He was delusional. He jumped in front of a train wearing his nephew’s rubber Maggot Foreskin mask.”

  “Frogskin,” Kiera corrected me.

  “Whatever,” I grunted. “The point I’m trying to make is that who knows what thoughts those wolves put inside those kids’ heads.”

  “But what about the others?” she argued.

  “What others?” I shot back.

  “All those people in those newspaper clippings I’ve collected,” Kiera reminded me.

  “How many of those people went to schools like Ravenwood?” I tried to convince her. It wasn’t easy to lie like this to Kiera. I had to keep reminding myself that this wasn’t my Kiera. If she was eventually going to remember then so be it – but I couldn’t be a part of that process. I shouldn’t even be in the car with her right now. Both me and Jack had been warned not to get involved – not to change anything about the lives of the people we had come back to watch. I wondered how Jack was getting on. He had the easy mission. He only had to sit behind a tree and wait for the photographer to show up. How complex could that possibly get? He had no connections to either Melody or Isidor.

  “What about those lumps on my back?” Kiera asked.

  “Huh?” I said, pushing thoughts of Jack Seth from my mind.

  “Those things sticking out of my back?” she sighed.

  “I dunno,” I shrugged. “Have you seen a doctor?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re the only person who knows about them. I haven’t even told my dad.”

  “How long have they been there?” I asked her.

  “Just a couple of weeks,” she explained. “They look like fingers.”

  “They look like tiny little lumps,” I said, trying to play down her concerns. “They could be moles.”

  “Moles!” she scoffed. “The lumps feel hard, like bone.”

  “Okay so they’re not moles, but that doesn’t mean they’re wings,” I told her. “If I were you, I’d keep an eye on those lumps for the next couple of weeks, and if they’re still there, go and get them checked out by your doctor.”

  “I guess you’re right” she sighed, driving us through town towards her apartment.

  I looked away, knowing that she would never know if I was right or wrong or what the lumps truly were. This Kiera didn’t have a couple of weeks left to live. The next doctor to see Kiera would be pronouncing her life extinct.

  Not wanting to think about that, I lit another cigarette and said, “Why did you think I’d been working with the wolves?”

  “Sorry?” she frowned.

  “When you found me hiding in the alleyway, you said that I was working with the wolves,” I reminded her. “What did you mean by that?”

  “You went to work with the wolves on that special investigations unit, remember?” she said, glancing at me.

  “So?” I shrugged, knowing I was now talking about the Potter who had left Kiera in this pushed world and not me.

  “That’s why you said you were leaving, because you wanted to work with the wolves,” Kiera said.

  “Really? Did I say that?” I said, suspecting that the other Potter must be completely different from me, as I could never imagine myself volunteering to work alongside the wolves. Working against them, yes, but never with them.

  “To be honest, you didn’t say much, and that’s why your leaving hurt so much,” Kiera said. “I just woke up one morning and you had gone.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered on behalf of the other Potter. Was he sorry? That I would never know.

  “Why didn’t you call me?” she asked, sounding hurt rather than pissed off.

  “I thought…” I started.

  “I tried calling you but your phone was always switched off,” she said. “I called ‘C’ Division and they said you were away on special operations and un-contactable.”

  “I’m sorry…” I tried again. Why was I apologising for this other Potter? It should be him, not me. Sure I’d screwed up plenty in the past, but for once this wasn’t one of my fuck-ups!

  “So you keep saying, but you haven’t explained why you’re back,” she said.

  “Let’s just say things didn’t work out for me with the wolves,” I said. “They never really have.”

  Before Kiera had a chance to question me any further of the disappearance of the other Potter, the sound of Bruno Mars singing Just the way you are came from her coat pocket. Taking one hand from the wheel, Kiera pulled out the phone and passed it to me.

  “Answer that,” she said. “I can’t talk now, I’m driving.”

  Turning the phone over in my hands, I couldn’t help but notice the crescent-shaped moon logo on the back. I hit the answer button and pressed the phone to my ear.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Sorry, I must have the wrong number,” the voice said.

  “Who do you want to speak to?” I asked.

  “Kiera… Kiera Hudson,” the voice came back.

  “This is Kiera’s phone,” I told him.

  “Who is this?” he asked, sounding confused.

  “Potter,” I said.

  “Potter? But I thought you were…” the voice trailed off into silence.

  “Were what?” I cut in, as Kiera steered the car towards the kerb and killed the engine.

  “I thought you had left,” and this time his voice sounded shocked rather than confused.

  “Who is this?” I asked.

  “John, John Miles. You remember me, don’t you, Potter?” the voice said.

  “How could I ever forget you, Sparky,” I scowled, handing Kiera back the phone.

  “Hey, John,” Kiera said.

  She listened while he spoke and I watched her.

  “And the intel is good this time around?” she asked him. “It’s definitely going to be tonight?”

  She listened again.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll see you at ten tonight.”

  Kiera finished the call and placed the phone back into her pocket.

  “What are you staring at?” she asked, looking back at me.

  “So what’s happening tonight at ten?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

  “Why? Are you jealous?” she smiled.

  “What, of Sparky?” I scoffed. “Yeah, I’d love a face full of zits and a broken pair of glasses. I’m jealous, all right.”

  Kiera started up the car again and steered away from the kerb. “If you must know, we’ve had some information that there is going to be a robbery tonight. We’ve had a spate of robberies in the area over the last few months, and we haven’t been able to catch the gang yet.”

  My heart leapt in my chest and I looked at Kiera. “Robbery, did you say?” knowing that Kiera died in a shootout while attending a robbery.

  “Hopefully we’ll catch them tonight,” she said.

  “Who’s we?” I asked, fearing that tonight was going to be the night Kiera died in this pushed world.

  “John and me,” Kiera explained.

  With my eyes popping in my head, I stared at her and said, “Kiera you can’t stake out the scene of a robbery with just Sparky. You’re gonna need backup.”

  “Like I said, John and I are the only cops left in this town who actually care about solving real crime.
The wolves aren’t interested,” Kiera explained.

  “But you might get hurt,” I told her – I tried to warn her.

  Pulling the car up outside her apartment block, she turned off the engine and looked at me. “Then come with us. You’re still a cop. It would be like the old times, Potter.” She smiled.

  Please don’t smile at me, I thought and looked away. However much I wanted to go with Kiera and be her backup, I couldn’t. I wasn’t to change anything here. And if I didn’t change what I feared was going to happen tonight, then I couldn’t bear to watch Kiera get shot dead. She might not be my Kiera – but to watch her die would be unbearable.

  “I can’t come tonight,” I breathed, pushing open the car door and climbing out.

  “Why not?” she asked, frowning at me over the roof of the car. “Got a better offer?”

  “No, I don’t have a better offer…” I started.

  “Then what’s the problem?” she said, fishing her front door keys from her pocket and heading towards the apartment block. “It would be great to have you there. I know John would like to see you again.”

  If he was anything like the Sparkly that I knew before the world got pushed, he wouldn’t be glad to see me at all. I didn’t tell Kiera this, and instead, I said, “I can’t come with you tonight, however much I want to.”

  “Why not?” she said, standing in the open doorway of the apartment block and looking back at me. She had a confused look in her eyes. “I thought you’d come back, Potter?”

  “I should’ve never come back,” I said, wanting to go with Kiera on the stakeout but knowing that I couldn’t. “It was a mistake.”

  Looking at me with tears suddenly standing in her eyes, Kiera said, “Go on, Potter, run away again. After all, that’s what you do best.” She stepped into the hallway, and without looking back, she slammed the front door in my face.

  “Kiera,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jack

  I had to sit and endure listening to Isi-bore read Melody a story he had written. I lay silently a few feet away from the bush where Melody sat and listened to Isi-bore read his story. At first I thought it was going to be a bunch of bullshit and some half-witted ideas strung together. But as Isi-bore continued to read, my ears pricked up. He spoke of a boy who was saved from his unhappy life by Marilyn Monroe who stepped out of a picture and pushed him into a different where and when. I thought of Lilly Blu and how much she looked like Marilyn Monroe, and how she had sent us to a different where and when. Had Isi-bore really written a story about himself and Lilly Blu, or was it simply a coincidence?

  My head hurt again, and I rolled over in the fallen leaves that covered the floor of the wood. Was I looking for stuff – connections – that weren’t really there? I needed to get back to my own where and when and put this shit behind me. With my head feeling like it was going to split open at any moment, I climbed onto all fours and was about to head back towards the grate, when I heard Melody say something that made me stop in my tracks and look back over my shoulder at the secret camp.

  “The ending was magical,” she said. “Just imagine if you could go someplace else – to a place where you could be happy. That would be magical, right?”

  “I guess,” Isi-bore said.

  “You know it would be magical or you wouldn’t have written that story,” Melody said. “That story was about me, wasn’t it?

  It could be about any of us, I thought, my tail wagging to and fro in the wind.

  “You had a magical place you used to go to”, the bride said, suddenly appearing beside me. She gently stroked my coat with one of her lace-gloved hands. “Your magical place used to be Father Paul’s house. That was your sanctuary, wasn’t it, poor old Jack?”

  “Yes,” I said, slowly nodding my head, remembering how free I felt there – away from the cruelty shown to me at home.

  I looked away from the bride and in the direction of Melody’s voice as I heard her say to Isi-bore, “The only difference is that I don’t have anyone to take me someplace else, some place magical.”

  To hear her say this, made my heart suddenly ache, for I knew that Melody Rose wasn’t heading anywhere magical. She was going to be dead soon and there wasn’t anything I could do to stop that. That wasn’t the reason I’d been sent back.

  “And why should I give a shit anyway?” I said, turning towards the bride, but she had gone again.

  Looking back at the bush where Melody and Is-bore hid, I told myself the girl meant nothing to me. Her life was her problem. I had enough problems of my own. There was a rustling sound behind me, and half expecting to see that fucking bride stalking me again, I looked back to see three youths creeping through the woods towards the shore. I could see two teenage boys and a girl. One of the boys had the biggest buckteeth I’d ever seen. They hung over his bottom lip, giving him the appearance of a donkey.

  I watched them step from out of the woods and onto the shore. Isi-bore and Melody must have heard them, as they suddenly appeared from inside.

  “For God’s sake,” I heard Isi-bore groan out loud at the sight of the others.

  “You got me in the shit good and proper the other day with that cop!” the boy, who looked like Rabbit from the Winnie Pooh books, scowled. “It was you who stole that book, and you weren’t even man enough to own up to it.”

  “You shouldn’t have stolen my coat,” Isi-bore shot back.

  So this was the thief who stole Isi-bore’s coat, I thought, deciding not to head back to the grate just yet. This could be interesting.

  The thief then noticed Melody standing behind Isi-bore and said, “Whoa! Who have we got here?”

  “They’ve been getting it on in the bushes!” the fucking ugly kid sniggered with excitement.

  “With her?” the teenage girl said in disbelief. “But she’s, like, some kinda nun or something.”

  “It’s the quiet ones you have to watch,” the thief said, reaching forward. He tried to lift up the hem of Melody’s dress.

  I shot to my haunches, eyes flashing bright and yellow. Melody slapped his hand away.

  “I just want to see your titties,” the thief smirked.

  “Fuck off!” Melody hissed.

  Good girl, I thought, then looked through the bushes at Isi-bore. What the fuck was he waiting for? The guy was messing with his girl.

  “Woo-hoo!” the ugly-fucker laughed, clapping his hands feverishly together. “The nun swears!”

  Now if I had to step in here, he was the first fucker to get his throat torn out. I wonder if he would find that so fucking funny.

  But I couldn’t get involved. What if it was these kids that killed Melody? Did I have to sit back and watch? I would have to. I couldn’t get involved here. And why would I want to? Then to my surprise, Isi-bore positioned himself in front of Melody.

  “Why don’t you three just go away?” he said.

  Why don’t you three go away? I mimicked inside my head. What the fuck was that all about? If I hadn’t have seen Isi-bore’s wings with my own eyes, I would have never believed he was a Vampyrus. This kid must be an embarrassment to their race.

  “Why should you get all the fun?” the thief glared at Isi-bore. “How about the nun gives me and my friend Barry over here a hand job each and we won’t tell her mum what she’s been up to in the bushes with you.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Isi-bore said.

  Who does Isi-bore think he is? Clark-fucking-Kent? Rip his fucking face off! I felt like howling at him. The thief just said he wants your girl to give him a hand job!

  “What? She’s not going to give us a hand job, or we’re not going to tell her mum that she’s been screwing you?” the thief said, taking a step closer to Isi-bore.

  “Neither is gonna happen,” Isi-bore told him, still standing in front of Melody.

  “And you’re gonna stop me, I guess?” the thief said, raising his fists.

  Do something, Isi-bore, or y
ou’re gonna get your face smashed in. Why wouldn’t he fight?

  Instead he said, “What are you gonna do, Ray, whoop my arse? Beat me? Shoot me with one of your dad’s big fuck-off guns? Then what are ya gonna do? Get Melody to whack you off? Then what? Beat her, too?”

  Don’t give the thief ideas, you dumb prick! I felt like howling.

  I watched the thief take another step towards Isi-bore and roll up his sleeves, readying himself to beat seven kinds of shit out of him. This was gonna be ugly. I didn’t know if I could watch.

  “C’mon, Isidor, let’s just get outer here,” Melody pleaded, pulling at Isi-bore’s sleeve.

  This was just embarrassing to watch. Just when I thought I was going to witness Isi-bore get a good kick in, he glanced at Melody and said, “What, and spend the rest of our lives running from bullies like him?”

  “You should listen to your girlfriend and run while you still can,” the thief threatened. I hated to agree with him, but yeah – Isi-bore should make a run for it.

  But to my surprise, Isi-bore didn’t run away, he stayed and stood his ground.

  “Do what you have to do then,” he said, standing tall. “Beat me, kill me! But I promise you, even if I have to crawl on my hands and fucking knees, I’m gonna tell every last motherfucker in this town that really, you’re just a scared little boy.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. Did Isi-bore just say the fuck word? It wasn’t only me who was stunned by this. The thief and his friends looked at each other, mouths open like drowning fish.

  “Would daddy be proud of his son if he knew that he bullied girls, tried to get them to whack him off?” Isi-bore continued. He was on a roll. “I reckon he’ll be bursting with so much pride, he’ll award you the ‘Jerk-off of the year award’!”