Dillon didn’t want to think about it, but he couldn’t help but remember. Tom wanted to go to the park and kick the ball around after school, maybe get a hot dog, but Dillon blew him off. All Dillon cared about was the guitar and a new riff he was learning. Tom reached the end of his patience and thundered, “That stupid guitar is all you can think about! You can’t even play it right!” Dillon was sure that Tom didn’t mean for the words to come out as roughly as they did, but still Dillon stumbled under the weight of them. If Tom had thrown a box of razor blades at Dillon, he couldn’t have hurt him more. After that they had just avoided each other.
Now everything was just odd and awkward between them. Tom might have missed Dillon, but Dillon let Tom think that he was too busy to care. If Tom only knew what was really going on in Dillon’s head.
Dillon was distracted by an annoying drumming sound. Tap, tap, tap, tap. It was getting right on Dillon’s last nerve when he looked down and realized it was him. He put his hands on his lap, took a deep breath, and tried not to look quite so nervous: not an easy feat, because the more Dillon thought about the notes and the blood on his hands, the more scared he was. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t figure out what the notes meant, and now he couldn’t even get Danny to talk to him.
“Shoot, boy. You look like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”
Dillon jumped and spilled his soda all over his shirt.
“Seriously? Now? I tried to call you for over an hour this morning and you were nowhere, but you show up here in the freaking cafeteria at school?” Dillon was scared about the notes and everything, but right now he was even more worried that anyone else in the cafeteria could either see Danny or, worse, see Dillon sitting there looking like a crazy person talking to himself. Tom thought Dillon was acting weird again, but he just shrugged it off. Dillon guessed that Tom would think he was just mumbling along with the music on his phone.
“Relax,” Danny drawled. “This is a private party. So what the heck is going on? You never called on me before and now I have like twenty messages from you.”
“Messages? You mean there’s voicemail in heaven?”
“You know what? I think maybe you’re right. You are nuts.” Danny chuckled.
“Whatever. If you knew I was calling, why didn’t you come?”
“I did come, you fool. I’m right here, aren’t I?”
Dillon decided it was a waste of time to keep this up. Besides, other people were starting to stare, so he stood up and prayed that Danny would follow him outside. Once he got out into the sunlight, he just kept walking. Dillon had never cut school in his life, but he needed to talk to Danny and there was no way he could say what he needed to say there. Danny tried to make Dillon smile by pointing out the absurdity of a sign for jumbo shrimp, but Dillon practically glared at him. After that, they walked in silence the whole way home to Dillon’s mom’s place.
Dillon pushed open the door to his room and opened the guitar case. Danny just sat down, watching him. Dillon planned to confront Danny with the notes, but when he reached into the guitar case, he was the one confronted, not with notes, but with a nail. When Dillon reached into the velvet lining, the back of his hand caught on a rusty nail that had pushed through the velvet lining from the hinge on the lid. Dillon jerked his hand out and shrieked. Danny was up in an instant and immediately put himself between Dillon and the guitar case.
“That’s it. Straight answers. What in the hell is going on here?” Danny wanted to know. “What happened?” Danny fumed when he saw Dillon’s hand.
Dillon didn’t answer, he just pointed into the case. This time it was Danny’s turn to be surprised. He read Remember, Death, and on a third blood stained page, Honor. Danny turned to Dillon and even for a ghost he looked pale.
“What is this? Have you seen these before?” Danny held the notes in his fist.
“That’s why I was calling you,” Dillon began. “I got the first one in Nashville, just after I got the guitar. The next one arrived after I got back home to New York. The third one, I’ve never seen before.”
Danny’s military training kicked in. “In what order did they arrive?”
“Remember, then Death, and now Honor. What does it all mean? I thought maybe they were from you and I couldn’t figure out why you would send me scary notes when we talk to each other all the time. Judging from your face though, now I see how stupid that theory really was.”
“Dillon, I did not, would not, and will not send you anything that scares or threatens you. I tell you what though, someone or something is trying to freak you or us out, and you know what? It’s working!”
“There’s more. Last night I fell asleep and when I woke up, my hands were covered in blood. I wasn’t hurt. They were just covered in blood.”
“Oh, is that all?! Why didn’t you tell me?”
Dillon felt the throbbing in his left hand and grabbed a towel from his pile of laundry in the corner. “Last night, there was no cut, but today . . . well, you can see for yourself.” Dillon held his hand out, and Danny winced. The cut from the nail was oozing blood over the back of Dillon’s hand. The good news was that there was no doubt in Dillon’s mind that Danny wasn’t the one sending the notes. The bad news was that the notes were still coming. Dillon felt three things all at once: scared, overwhelmed, and grateful that because of Danny, he wasn’t in this alone.
September 30, 2011
All Dillon could think was Thank God it’s Friday. It had been a week from hell, and this weekend was shaping up to be just swell. His dad wanted to take him up to Connecticut to some tourist-trap farm to go pumpkin picking and get fresh cider. Dillon could hardly believe that the same guy who played classic rock wanted to go pumpkin picking. For Pete’s sake, didn’t he realize that Dillon was fifteen years old? Gee Dad, could we go to the playground too? Ugh!
Still, Dillon knew that he would go and pretend to like it because the pathetic truth was that he would do just about any lame thing if it meant he could hang out with his dad. The guitar and Danny were the constants in Dillon’s life. Even though the old guitar brought unexplainable things, even scary things, into Dillon’s life, he still loved it. Playing it wasn’t really a choice; it was more of a need. He packed up the guitar and his bag and headed downstairs to wait. His mom was busy cleaning up the kitchen, and he felt the same pang of guilt he always felt when he left. He knew she would work pretty much all weekend, just to get out of their empty house. He knew she would eat Chinese food and sleep on the couch, and he knew she would say she had had a “fabulous” weekend when he returned.
A horn beeping startled Dillon, and he looked out the window and laughed out loud. There was his father in a truly ridiculous minivan, all smiles and waving as he parked in front of the building.
“Well, that confirms it. He’s a lunatic,” Dillon muttered before he realized his mom had heard every word.
“He may be crazy, but that’s still your dad, buddy.” His mom smiled as she opened the door. For a moment, it was like old times. Ryan might have been any dad coming home from work and being greeted by his family, but only for a moment. The tension entered the room before he did.
“Make sure he gets some rest this time,” Dillon’s mom, Maggie, said. “I’m still worried about the way he is sleeping or not sleeping, I guess.” His mom had left and Nurse Hardknuckles had taken her place.
“Don’t worry, I won’t break him. I promise I’ll return him to you in full working order.” Dillon’s dad tried to smile but just looked tired. Dillon almost felt sorry for him. Dillon’s mom had a way of making a person feel incompetent sometimes. “Come on, Dillon, let’s get you out of here before we get any more instructions.”
“Dad? Why did you rent this thing?” The closer he got to the minivan, the worse it looked. It had a dent on the side and alarming green stains across the back seat. The bonus was the somewhat less-than-delightful, musty smell that blew all over them when Dillon’s dad turned on the heat.
&
nbsp; “I rented this thing because we are going to the farm in Connecticut tomorrow and I am most certainly not driving the Lexus on the farm.”
“You know I’m fifteen, right? Pumpkin picking? Why can’t we just get the pumpkin at the grocery store like normal New Yorkers?”
“Because it’s not just us going. I invited a friend to join us. There is someone I want you to meet. Her name is Jane, and I want you to promise you’ll be nice.”
Dillon felt like someone had just punched him in the gut. He noticed his hands were trembling, so he sat on them and stared straight ahead.
“Jane? Is she your girlfriend or something?” Dillon felt like his throat was closing.
“She’s a nice person, Dillon, and clearly she is both a girl and a friend, so yeah, I guess you could call her a girlfriend. Why not?”
“Are you getting serious with this woman? How long have you been seeing her?” Dillon’s parents had been divorced for a few years, but this was the first time his father ever talked about dating.
“Take it easy, kiddo. I’m not in the habit of answering to my son.”
“And I’m not in the habit of putting on some happy father-and-son dog-and-pony show!” Dillon railed.
“Oh boy, here we go.” Dillon knew that southern drawl in an instant, and then he felt Danny’s hand on his shoulder. “Take a breath, Dillon. This might be okay.”
“No. This is most certainly not okay.” Dillon was surprised to find he was trembling with rage. His dad looked confused. “Does Mom even know?”
“Yes, she knows. She’s not exactly happy about it, but yes, she knows. I asked her to let me tell you about it, so she is giving me the time to do that.”
Not another word was said as they drove across town. Dillon waited in silence when his dad ordered dinner from the bistro around the corner and glared at him when he suggested a game of cards. About halfway through dinner, Dillon’s dad gave up trying to resurrect the evening and turned on the TV. Dillon disappeared into his room and began to play. The first few chords fell off his fingers like water rushing in a stream, smooth, easy and effortless. He was barely paying attention to what he was playing when his dad opened the door, sheet-white and breathless.
“Why are you playing that? Who told you to learn it?”
Dillon had to think for a minute about what he was doing. He was just strumming his mom’s favorite song. He liked to play it for her, and tonight he just started playing it without even realizing what he was doing. He didn’t know why, but the whole idea of meeting his father’s girlfriend made him want to declare some kind of loyalty to his mom.
“It’s just an old song. Mom and I like it and I felt like playing it. What’s the problem?” It was the first time Dillon had spoken to his dad in hours.
“That is more than just some old song to me. It’s from a time in my life when I believed in fairy tales and miracles. Do me a favor, play something else, play anything else.” His dad closed the door and for the first time in a long time, Dillon was actually worried about him. He looked worn out and really sad. Until that moment Dillon always thought his dad had a sort of selfish invincibility.
He remembered the night his dad left and how he barely looked at Dillon in the front hall. “Dillon, it’s time you learned,” he had said, “that everything in this world has a beginning and an end and this charade is over.” Dillon’s mom cried in the other room and he just stood there watching his father walk out of their lives.
Before the divorce, Dillon and his dad used to ride their bikes from one end of Central Park to the other and then stop at Franny’s Market on West 57th Street for strawberry banana smoothies. They loved Saturday mornings on the town: his mom could relax and they could have their “guy time.” Dillon didn’t even know if his dad still owned a bike, but it didn’t matter. It’s not like there was any chance of them going for a ride now anyhow.
Dillon put down the guitar and closed his eyes. Ten minutes later he was out cold, and anyone looking at him would have sworn he was sound asleep. They would have been dead wrong.
Dillon looked around but couldn’t see anything. The cold, damp walls were pitch black and less inviting. Was this a dream? Slowly, he stepped forward. He heard glass crunching beneath his feet and a sickening sound of wailing in the distance. As he inched forward he reached out his hands and tried to feel his way out of this horrible place. His hands met some kind of slime oozing down the wall, and when he pulled his hand back, he was sure it was bleeding. Dillon took a deep breath to steady his nerves, but gasped instead. There was some kind of rancid odor coming from the slime all over his hands and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t shake it off.
He began to whisper to himself to stave off the abject terror building inside him. “Okay, everything is still okay.” Slowly he inched forward again. In the darkness he felt a cold breeze pass over him. Hoping it was coming from outside, he pressed on. The glass under his feet was starting to cut into his feet and it hurt. Desperate to know where he was and, more importantly, how to get out, he kept walking. Step after step, he walked on through the inky blackness with only the breeze for company. Then he finally got a break.
The breeze really was coming from outside, and as he lifted his head, Dillon nearly cheered when he saw the night sky. Never before had the stars and the moon looked so wonderful to him. Faster now, he followed the breeze, and the night sky came closer and closer. A few more steps and he was sure he would be out of this cave or tunnel or whatever it was, and then he could try to find his way back home.
The moonlight was warm and welcoming as he took the next step and left the awful cave behind. He expected to stand on soft ground, maybe even grass or a path. At the very least he expected to leave the crunching of broken glass behind. Dillon didn’t know he had already seen the best this place had to offer.
The last step from the cave was much more than Dillon bargained for. As soon as his two feet touched the ground, it began to shake. What started as a tremor grew into a full-blown earthquake and the breeze became a whirlwind. In the moonlight Dillon saw trees uprooted and felt splashes of icy rain on his face. The field was like a moonscape, barren and dark. Dillon tried to keep moving but stumbled. His feet were sore and his hands were bleeding, but he didn’t give up. The adrenaline from his terror pushed him on. Anxious and alert, he crouched down to grasp onto the roiling earth.
There was no way to walk on the ground, so he crawled. The ground heaved and churned around and the noise was so loud it felt like the world was vibrating. Thunder cracked in the distance, but the lightning struck inches from Dillon’s head and burned the ground around him. When he couldn’t even crawl forward because of the seething and quaking of the field, he crouched down low and looked around for some kind of shelter. There was none.
Another thunder crack and Dillon looked up just in time to see a tree limb falling. It crashed to the ground and began to roll right for him. Dillon got up to run but it was too late. Dillon, the tree, and at least a million raindrops fell into some sort of great abyss. Down and down they fell, and on at least three occasions Dillon was sure the tree would hit him. In a truly exhausted moment, he almost wished it would.
He landed with a thud only inches away from where the tree had crashed down moments before. Convinced that every bone in his twisted body was shattered, Dillon lay very still. Even opening his eyes took a monumental effort. Afraid of what he might see, he gingerly opened one eye. What he saw confused him almost as much as it was a relief.
“Well, I guess you wanted to know, so here it is. Can’t say I ever wanted to come back, but there is no way I’d let you go without me.” Danny reached out his hand to help Dillon stand.
“Where are we? Is this hell?” Dillon was afraid to hear the answer.
“War, hell, really I don’t reckon there’s much difference. You wanted to know about how I died, right? Well, you’re about to find out.”
“Can you read my mind? How did you know? Why can’t you just tell me
? Why did you have to bring me here? How . . .”
“Slow down and back up! No, I can’t read your mind, but wanting to know how I died would be a logical question to ask, right? And I didn’t bring you here. Man, I wouldn’t bring anyone here.” Danny shivered and looked over his shoulder. Dillon was amazed to discover that he was all right. Nothing was broken and nothing was bleeding, either. Great.
“What should we do?” he asked Danny.
“I’ll tell you one thing, the next time you want to know something, just do us both a favor and ask about it upfront. Don’t go putting us through this kind of thing any more.” Danny was getting annoyed. “Shoot, I don’t know what I’m so freaked out about, I’m already dead. It’s not like I’m in any danger. I need to shake this off.”
“Danny? Why did you come with me? You’re right, I did wonder how you died, but it’s not an easy question to ask. Still, I had no idea that I could cause a vision or nightmare or whatever this is. Anyway, I know why I’m here, but if it makes you so nervous, why did you agree to come with me? Are you my guardian angel or something?”
Danny burst out laughing. “If you could meet my father, he would surely tell you that I’m no angel! I’m not quite sure why I’m here yet, but I’m guessing it must be important to both of us. Either way, I ain’t letting you into my nightmare without me.”
The sky lit up with an explosive blast that shook the ground. Danny threw himself over Dillon and swore. For a ghost, he felt remarkably solid, and Dillon hoped Danny couldn’t tell that he was shaking.
“Now! Move! We need to take cover!” Danny shouted in his ear. The next moment they were up and running across the fields. They ran into an old building that was equal parts decrepit and dilapidated. They needed the shelter, but Danny wished they had anywhere else to go. As soon as they got inside, they both knew it was a mistake, but only Danny knew why. The place was dark and falling down around them. The floor was dirty and piled high with broken crates and sandbags. A second explosion rocked the place, and bits of the ceiling began to fall. At that moment Dillon saw something he would never forget. A little girl ran past him, and before he could reach her, she was scooped up by gnarled hands covered in grease and sweat. The rest of the monster was hiding behind a low wall. They heard more crying and shouting, but Dillon couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
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