Strange Magic

by Gord Rollo

  “Oh, I almost forgot. He gave me something to give to you, Dad. Said it was important. I put it into my backpack…just a sec.” Amanda tore off into the kitchen to retrieve her book bag, and came back into the living room with a white letter-size envelope in her hand. “Here, Daddy.”

  Wilson took the letter with a shaking hand. The envelope was sealed and had his name written on the front. With no other option, he tore it open and read the short one-line message typed on the center of the page. In bold capital letters, the message said:

  SOON, THE ICEMAN WILL DIE!

  Wilson froze for a moment, unable to move or think. If he’d had his wits about him, he’d have crumpled up the paper, ripped it to shreds, and destroyed it before anyone else could read it, but he didn’t. Susan grabbed the sheet out of his hand and stared in puzzled shock at the cryptic message in front of her. Unlike Wilson, she had no idea what it meant or why it had been delivered to her estranged husband through their daughter.

  “What the heck is this?” she asked Wilson, but he wasn’t in any condition to answer her. His only thought was to get out of this house and get as far away from here as he could before it was too late. He couldn’t stay with his wife and daughter another second—he’d already jeopardized them enough just by knowing him.

  “Wilson?” Susan asked, shaking his arm. “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a damn ghost again.”

  “I…I gotta go, Susan. Right now.” Wilson ran for the front door, knowing his fear was contagious and he was scaring his wife and daughter but he couldn’t help himself. He needed to get home. He needed to find a place to hide.

  He needed a drink.

  Halfway out the door, Susan caught his arm, begging him not to run off. “Don’t leave, Wilson. Please. You’re scaring me. Tell me what’s going on? Who sent this letter? I know you know him. Tell me, damn it!”

  Wilson shrugged her off and was down the stairs heading for the sidewalk but his wife’s sobs stopped him. He hated the way he was treating her right now and wished there was some way to keep all this grief away from her and Amanda. Neither of them deserved the black cloud that was descending on them, but there was nothing Wilson could do to stop it. He turned back to face Susan, but could only shrug his shoulders in defeat. No words came to him that could soothe her or make her understand. The truth would only make things worse.

  “Who’s the Iceman, Wilson?” Susan pleaded.

  More afraid for his family’s lives than he was for himself, Wilson finally admitted to a part of his past that he hadn’t shared with anyone in over twenty years.

  “I am, Susan. I’m the Iceman. You and Amanda have to stay away from me.”

  TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 22

  A PAST FILLED WITH STRANGE MAGIC

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  LAST DAY

  Wilson was spiraling down a cold, dark staircase collecting his daughter’s bloody fingers again, when an incessant shrill thankfully brought him out of a deep, alcohol-induced slumber. He had no idea how long the phone had been ringing, but he was damn happy the person on the other end was persistent enough to hang on long enough to drag him out of his nightmare. The last thing Wilson had wanted to do was follow that dream staircase to the bottom and see Amanda decapitated again. His nerves were already shot without having to experience that again.

  Sitting up and reaching for the phone, Wilson’s eyes burned like they’d been dipped in lighter fluid, and his aching head felt like it just might explode if he was forced to endure one more loud noise this morning. He lifted the receiver off the cradle before it could send another needle of agony into his brain, but hesitated putting the phone to his ear. He felt nauseated all of a sudden and had no desire to talk to anyone today. He knew it was probably Susan on the phone and, to be honest, didn’t want to have to lie to her about what had happened last night or why he’d raced home and drank himself into a deep sleep. Still, he’d already picked up the phone. It was a bit late to hang up now.

  “Hello?” Wilson finally said.

  It wasn’t Susan.

  “Morning, asshole!” the Stranger said. “Thought you could hide from me forever, did you?”

  “Who’s this?” Wilson said, simply to stall for time.

  Obviously he knew who was on the other end of the line; he just didn’t know what to do about it yet. “Take your crank calls and go bother someone who cares. I’m hanging up now.”

  “You do…and I’ll go slit your pretty little wife’s throat. I’m parked on Derby Hill Road already, in fact.”

  Wilson badly wanted to slam down the phone and yank the cord out of the wall, but he knew there was no way he could do that. His old friend would keep his word and Wilson wouldn’t be able to save Susan in time. “You can’t be here,” he said, fear constricting his throat down to a whisper. “It’s…it’s impossible.”

  “Is it now? You mean you hoped it was, but you were wrong, old friend. It’s taken me forever to find you but I did. Now you’re going to pay the price!”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “Everything!” the Stranger hissed. “More than I can ever take, but I’ll start with your miserable life. Then maybe I’ll move on to your wife and kid.”

  “You leave them out of it, you bastard. They’ve got nothing to do with this. They don’t even know you exist. I’ve told them nothing about…about us. This is between you and me, and no one else.”

  “Is it? You sure about that? Maybe. I haven’t decided yet. Either way, it won’t matter to you. I’m coming for you, shithead. Today! I wanted to scare you first but I’m tired of fucking around. I waited too long to get my fingers around your lying, treacherous throat. Today is your last day alive. I’ll be there to see you…soon!”

  “Wait! I never lied to you. Not once. What happened to you was your own damn fault. You can’t blame me for—”

  But the line had gone dead, the silence on the other end of the line heavy, suffocating, crippling, a grand piano dropped onto his head from a thousand feet. Wilson couldn’t take the receiver away from his ear, hoping his enemy would come back on the line and threaten him some more. Maybe Wilson could talk some sense into him. Maybe he could…

  Today is your last day alive!

  The phone dropped from his hand to the floor, and Wilson raced to the bathroom to be violently sick. He buried his head in the porcelain bowl for a long time, his hands shaking, barely able to keep his aching head up out of the foul water as his stomach heaved again and again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  DARK SECRETS

  Wilson was still curled in a ball on the bathroom floor, halfway between sleep and death, when the front doorbell rang forty-five minutes later. Although his head felt like it were filled with concrete and his legs barely seemed to have the strength to support him, he somehow made it to his feet. He had no choice. The hair on the back of his neck was standing straight up and he felt like he either had to get up and be ready to fight, or close his eyes and wait to die. Coward or not, that was something he wasn’t ready to do. Wilson wasn’t worried about himself, but his family needed him to be strong and do the right thing for once in his life. If that meant taking on a madman, so be it.

  But first, Wilson needed a weapon.

  Back in his bedroom, Wilson went directly to his closet and quickly found the aluminum softball bat he stored in there. He and Susan had tried joining a mixed league several years ago, before Wilson’s drinking had gotten out of control, but they’d never really fit in with the other couples and had only lasted about half a season. The bat had been stuffed in this closet ever since Wilson had moved out and rented this dump. He’d nearly thrown it away on half a dozen occasions but today he was damn glad he’d kept it.

  In his hands, the heavy aluminum club felt pretty good and he took a few tentative practice swings to get a feel for it. He’d prefer to defend himself with a shotgun or maybe a Dirty Harry .44 Magnum, but he’d never been a big believer in firearms and had never bothered getting on
e. The bat would have to do.

  The doorbell rang again.

  I’m coming…you son of a bitch, Wilson thought, creeping as quietly as he could to a spot just on the edge of the front hallway. From there, Wilson could peek around the corner and see the door rattling quietly in its frame. The Heatseeker was trying to get inside. From his vantage point, Wilson could see the dead bolt wasn’t even latched. In his rush to start drinking last night, he’d completely forgotten to lock the door. Inevitably, the second his eyes fell on it, the doorknob slowly began to turn.

  Wilson pulled back into the hallway and waited until the Heatseeker was inside the house and quietly closing the door. Steeling his nerves, Wilson raised the baseball bat and lunged around the corner, ready to bash in his enemy’s skull with one smooth strike.

  “Motherfucker!” he screamed.

  Susan was standing in front of him, shock and terror in her eyes, and she threw her arms up in front of her face to protect herself. “Wilson, don’t! It’s me!”

  Wilson stopped his swing—but only barely. Staring down at his wife and contemplating what he’d almost done, he tossed the bat to the floor, dropping it like it were something slimy and alive. “I’m sorry, Susan. Bloody hell! I…I thought you were someone else. You know I’d never hurt you. Shouldn’t you be at work or something?”

  “Christ Almighty, Wilson.” Some of the fire was back in Susan’s eyes. “I’m going into work late. After last night, I wanted to see how you were doing, but apparently you’ve lost your freakin’ mind. Whose head were you planning on busting open?”

  Wilson had no answer for her. He felt like such a failure. Such a fool. “I can’t tell you, honey. I can’t.” Tears welled in his eyes and he turned away from her so she couldn’t see his shame. “You have to stay away from me, Susan. For your own good. Take Amanda and get as far away from Billington as you can.”

  “What are you talking about? Why? You’re not making any sense.”

  “None of this makes any sense, damn it! You have to trust me though. Get out before it’s too late.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Wilson. Forget it. Tell me what’s going on and I’ll help you.”

  “You can’t. Not with this.”

  “Try me. There’s been too many lies lately. Too many secrets. I’m not leaving here until you tell me the truth. I’m your wife, for God’s sake!”

  “I can’t tell you, Susan. You’d never believe me. It’s total fucking madness and…” Wilson’s voice dropped to a whisper, fresh tears pouring down his cheeks. “…and you’d never forgive me if you knew the truth.”

  Wilson broke down then, dropping to his knees in the hall, weeping into his hands. He didn’t want her to see him like this, a drunken wreck, but he couldn’t help it. Part of him hoped she would be disgusted by his weakness and walk out on him—but she didn’t. Susan held him close and stroked the back of his head as she held him against her stomach. For a few blissful moments, time stood still, but then she broke their embrace and helped Wilson to his feet.

  “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get you to the couch.”

  “Okay,” Wilson said, allowing himself to be led into the living room and over to the ratty old couch he’d picked up at a nearby yard sale. “Man, I don’t think I’ve ever needed a drink so badly in my whole life.”

  “And I’ll get you one…of coffee. Couple of cups, by the look of those red eyes and the smell of your breath. And then we’re getting to the bottom of this.”

  She was out into the kitchen before Wilson could object. Ten minutes later she was back with a large steaming mug of strong java, with cream and two sugars, just the way she knew he liked it. She let him drink the entire cup in silence, then refilled him another, not bothering him until she saw him relax a little and his hands had stopped shaking. That was when she pounced.

  “Okay, Wilson. Listen close. I love you. I’ve loved you since the minute I laid eyes on you, I think. We’ve been through a lot of crap together. Some great times, sure, but a lot of nasty days too. Agreed?”

  “Of course. And I love you too but—”

  “But nothing. I’ve been beside you through thick and thin and now you have the nerve to try and shut me out. That’s not fair. You tell me to take Amanda and run away? To where? Our entire life is here with you. We’re a family, damn it, and families stick together. I’m not going anywhere, Wilson. Not until you tell me the truth.”

  Wilson put down his coffee and closed his eyes for a moment. How could he possibly tell her the things she wanted to know? She’d hate him forever. Wouldn’t she? Or was he underestimating her love again?

  “I’ve been hiding things from you about my past. Dark, dark secrets, worse than you can possibly imagine, Susan. You prepared for that?”

  “Anything, Wilson…as long as it’s the truth.”

  Where can I even start? he thought.

  “Okay. First things first. Everything you think you know about me is a lie.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH

  “My name isn’t Wilson Kemp.”

  “It’s not?” Susan asked, already stunned. She wasn’t sure what her husband might have to tell her but she wasn’t expecting this. “I think I better take a seat for this.”

  “Good idea,” Wilson said. “My real name is…or I should say was, Brendan Wilson. You thought I grew up in Ohio, but I really grew up in upstate New York, in a little place called North Tonawanda. It’s near Niagara Falls. Everyone used to call me Wilson anyway, using my last name, so when I went into hiding I figured I’d use that as my first. I was used to hearing it and I wouldn’t get caught staring into space forgetting my new name when someone was trying to talk to me. Kemp was the last name of a friend I’d had in junior high. I was trying to keep things as simple as possible.”

  “When you went into hiding?” Susan asked. “Jesus! Why did you have to hide? Did you rob a bank or something?”

  “Do you want to hear this or not? Let me get it out before I change my mind, okay?”

  “Okay. Sorry. I’ll shut up and listen.”

  “Thanks. No, I didn’t rob a bank. It was nothing like that. But let me start from the beginning. I think you’ll understand it better. Maybe.

  “I was a bit of a loner as a kid. No brothers or sisters. Just me and my parents, and they seemed to have more important things on the go than worrying about me. I don’t remember having too many friends, and we never took a family vacation. Not that I remember, anyway. Basically I was on my own. I did decently in school, okay grades, and it wasn’t like people didn’t like me. I wasn’t bullied any more than any other skinny little kid, so school wasn’t really the problem. It was after school ended and I had to spend hours alone waiting for my parents to get home from work and then waiting for bedtime.

  “I started getting in trouble. Nothing major. I’d steal a candy bar at the convenience store, or pull out the carnations in our neighbor’s flower garden. You know…stupid shit. I think I was trying to get my parents’ attention, even if it meant negative attention. And trust me, my dad could dole out the negative love in bunches. I used to get the belt a lot.

  “When I got a little older, maybe eleven or twelve, I broke into a car and tried to hot-wire it. I had no idea what I was doing and all I did was rip all the wiring to hell and cause a lot of damage. My dad had to pay five hundred dollars to get the guy’s car fixed. One thing led to another and pretty soon my dad started locking me in the house after supper, to keep me out of trouble. He was convinced I was a bad apple and was destined for a jail cell but he was wrong. I wasn’t a bad kid…I was lonely. I just needed attention. A friend, or a grown-up to spend time with me. Hard to have that though, when you’re locked in your room every night.”

  “That’s terrible, Wilson,” Susan said. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It was the best thing my parents ever did for me. Seriously. It directly led me to the one great love of my life…other than you and Amanda, o
f course. Magic. It started simple enough, with me just picking up a silly card-trick book while at school. I brought it home just to have something to kill some time with after supper in my room. I devoured it though, and every other book on magic and magicians I could get my hands on. I loved magic. Became obsessed with it, and before long I was putting on little magic shows at recess and trying to impress the girls with the things I could do.

  “Eventually things like card tricks and making things appear or disappear out of a hat bored me. I was damn good at them, but what really excited me was escape tricks. In truth, I probably only wanted to figure out a way to get out of my locked bedroom. If I could become a great escape artist, my dad could never lock me up ever again. It was the perfect thing for me and although I was still young, I knew I’d found my calling in life. Handcuffs, ropes, straitjackets, boxes, safes…anything that could draw a crowd; I wanted a part of it. Houdini was a god to me. Blackstone too. I studied all the greats, and maybe it was arrogance, but I thought I could be just as good. All I needed was time…and a good mentor.

  “I dropped out of school and ran away from home when I was sixteen. All I took with me was a small suitcase filled with T-shirts and jeans, and a couple of my favorite magic books. For money, I’d saved up nearly two hundred dollars doing odd jobs in the neighborhood and a paper route after school. I was smart enough to realize that wasn’t a whole lot of money and it wouldn’t last me long, so I didn’t run too far. I ended up thumbing my way to Jamestown, New York, knocking on the door of Lucius Barber, a retired magician I used to see all the time at the state fair and on the local cable network. He was a hero of mine, sort of, a local guy who’d made it big, touring his act as far as New York City, performing live on TV and at Radio City Music Hall. His illusions weren’t spectacular, but his escapes definitely were. In my corner of the world, Lucius was as good as it got, and I desperately wanted him to take me into his confidence and teach me everything he knew.