The Impossible Coin (The Downwinders Book 2)

by Michael Richan

  Chapter Eleven

  Winn knocked lightly on Brent’s window. After a few seconds, the glass louvers opened and he could see Brent’s face.

  “Can you come out?” Winn asked. He could barely see Brent’s black eye.

  “I better not,” Brent said. “My dad is out drinking. He’s been really pissy and cranky all day today, so I better be here when he gets home, or he’ll go into a rage.”

  “Alright,” Winn said. “Marty said he might call the cops on your dad.”

  “No!” Brent said. “You told him?”

  “I had to,” Winn said. “He wanted to know where the nickel was.”

  “Tell him not to!” Brent said, his voice rising with panic. “It’ll just make things worse!”

  “OK, OK! I’ll tell him!” Winn said. “Calm down!”

  “A teacher at school turned him in last year, and I’m still paying for that!” Brent said.

  “I’ll tell him not to call the cops,” Winn said. “I promise. How’s your eye?”

  “A little better,” Brent said, calming. “It doesn’t look much better when I see it in the mirror, but it feels a lot better thanks to the nickel.”

  “You’re still using it?” Winn asked.

  “Yup,” Brent said. “Been using it all day.”

  “I thought it would have expired by now.”

  “Nope, it still works,” Brent said, holding the nickel up so Winn could see it through the screen.

  “Well, if you’re locked away for the night, I guess I’ll see you at the bus stop in the morning,” Winn said.

  “Yeah, OK!” Brent said. “See ya!”

  The louvers began to fold closed, and Winn turned to walk back to his trailer. Jeanette had come out, and was pacing behind her chair. He could see from a distance that she’d bandaged up Ears’ legs to resemble the bandages on her own. He felt sorry for the little dog, lying under the chair. It raised its head from its wrapped paws to look up at him as he approached.

  “Jigga jagga ju!” Jeanette mumbled. “Jigga jagga ju!” She turned and paced in a tight circle. “They’re coming, through the desert! Over the sand! Who will save me?”

  Most of the time Jeanette was lucid, but he’d seen her once or twice like this, when she went off the deep end, mumbling nonsense. Sometimes she would become so worked up she’d start screaming, and someone in the trailer court would call authorities. More than once she’d been hauled out on a stretcher; it was looking as though it might happen again tonight. Winn hoped to pass her without gaining her attention, but as he got closer, she turned to him.

  “You think you’re so special,” she said, looking at him, “with your tuned up nose and your coin and your black rock. Jigga jagga ju! They’re coming for you, too! From the desert! Over the sand!”

  Winn froze. How did she know about the nickel? And the rock Marty had given to him?

  “That’s right,” Jeanette said, raising a crooked finger to point at him. “Time is up! You think you’re so smart. Well, jigga jagga ju! When they get here, we’ll see who’s smart! We’ll see who’s special!” She dropped her finger and began pacing again. “Time is up, and when they get here, then we’ll see who’s smart, then we will, for sure. And he’ll pay, won’t he, Ears? He’ll pay! Jigga jagga ju! Jigga jagga ju! Oh, who will save me?”

  Winn turned to walk away from her, and was met by Marty’s Cadillac coming down the driveway. He ran up to Marty’s car and flagged him down.

  “You haven’t called the cops on Brent’s dad yet, have you?” Winn said, once Marty had rolled down his window.

  “No,” Marty replied, “but I’m thinking about it. How is he?”

  “He’s better, but he got real scared when I told him you might call them. He begged me to ask you not to do it. He said it would just make it worse.”

  “Hmm,” Marty said, thinking.

  “Where are you going?” Winn asked.

  “Into town for a bit,” Marty replied, but his answer was interrupted by a sudden volume increase in Jeanette’s ramblings.

  “She on another tear?” Marty asked.

  “Yeah, she’s going on and on about something coming,” Winn said. “I think she’s pissed at me. And she’s bandaged up Ears’ legs again. The poor dog. If she keeps going on that loud, someone’s gonna call the cops. That’s who’ll be coming.”

  “Remember your promise,” Marty said.

  “What promise?” Winn asked.

  Marty reached out the window and grabbed Winn by the wrist. Winn, surprised, looked at Marty. He was deadly serious. “You promised me you wouldn’t go back to that cave. Either in person or by the River.”

  “I won’t,” Winn said, wishing Marty would release his arm.

  Marty looked satisfied and let go of Winn, turning to face the road. “Alright,” he said. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, if you come around.”

  “I will,” Winn said. “I’m gonna get the nickel back from Brent tomorrow, and we can test it to see if it still works or not.”

  “OK,” Marty said, his window rolling up. “Good night!”

  Winn watched as Marty’s car slowly rolled down the driveway and past a turn that put him out of sight. Jeanette was still pacing and rambling, with an occasional word shouted too loudly that made Winn jump. He expected to see a cop car pulling up the driveway soon.

  It was beginning to get dark, so he walked to his trailer. When he opened the door, the heat from inside blasted out. His mother had turned off the A/C when she left for work in an attempt to save money. It would take a half hour before the trailer was back down to a reasonable temperature, and it irritated him. He walked inside, turned on the air conditioner, grabbed his Walkman, and left the trailer while it cooled down.

  Knowing the treehouse received an occasional breeze that was never felt at ground level thanks to the proximity of the trailers, Winn climbed up and onto the platform. He turned on his Walkman and placed the headphones over his ears.

  He felt a little amped up. Marty’s concern about the cave and Jeanette’s rantings had set him on edge, and instead of lying down to listen to the music, he sat cross legged, looking over the platform and down into the trailer court. He could see Jeanette to his right, still pacing. His headphones were masking her shouts.

  He looked left, toward Marty’s trailer, just as the lights that illuminated the trailer park’s driveway switched on. The spot where his Cadillac was normally parked sat empty. He wondered how long Marty would be gone. He felt bored, and wondered if he should go over to Gale’s, see if he would let him play PS2. He looked at Gale’s trailer and could see flashes of light coming from his bedroom window – the result, no doubt, of intense zombie killing.

  As dusk began to move into night, Winn watched as bats darted over the trailers, sucking up bugs. There were six or seven of them, moving erratically. Winn wondered how there could be enough insects to interest the bats, but then he realized the bats were concentrating on the streetlamps that had just come on.

  The breeze he was hoping for hadn’t materialized, and he felt sweat rolling down his skin inside his shirt. I’ll listen to a few more songs, he thought, and then I’ll go down to the trailer. It’ll be nice and cool by then.

  He reached down to adjust the volume on his Walkman. When he looked back up, things seemed different. He wasn’t sure how.

  He saw movement to his right, and he turned to look at Jeanette. Ears had pulled himself up from his spot under her chair, and was standing in the driveway, barking. Jeanette was yelling at the dog and waving her arms, attempting to get his attention. She went to her trailer door, opened it and stepped inside, then turned and called for Ears to come, but the little dog remained in the driveway, propped up by his ridiculous bandaged legs. Ears was facing further down the driveway, toward Marty’s trailer, and he was barking continuously, oblivious to Jeanette’s calls.

  Winn looked up, and realized what was different – the bats had gone. He could see insects swarming around the driveway lights, b
ut no bats. For some reason they’d left.

  He looked left, back down toward Marty’s trailer. Then he noticed the distant movement in the desert, beyond. Faint, ghostly images, barely perceptible. They were walking slowly in his direction. They were coming from the direction of the cave.

  Winn sat up straight, strained his eyes. It was almost completely dark now, and the driveway lights were a distraction. He held his hand up to shield the glare of the lights from his eyes, and looked into the desert again.

  He hadn’t imagined it. There were ghostly forms out there, slowly walking. He counted at least a dozen. In the lead was a figure that wasn’t as faint as the others. They were still too far away to make out any features.

  Winn dropped into the River, and the images in the desert intensified, sending a chill down his spine. Ghosts, he thought. From the cave. Not just ghosts – zombighosts. If they see me in the River, they’ll attack me!

  He dropped out of the flow and was immediately irritated at how much harder the figures were to see. He pulled the headphones off his head, and the music reduced to a tinny echo, buzzing

  I… want a god… who stays dead… not plays dead…

  and the rapid staccato barking of Ears to his right. He turned, and saw Jeanette picking up the dog by its sides. She pulled the dog to her chest, trying to quiet it, but Ears kept right on. She shuffled him inside the house and shut the door with a slam. Winn could still hear the muffled barks of the dog from inside the trailer.

  He turned back to the left, and saw the figures had advanced. They were just on the other side of Marty’s trailer.

  Why are they here? Winn thought, scared, but thrilled at the same time. Are they after Marty, for us being out at the cave today? Maybe they’re after me, too?

  He was glad Marty wasn’t home. As he watched, the figures disappeared behind Marty’s trailer, and after a few moments more they emerged from the side of the trailer facing him, having marched through it.

  Now Winn could see them a little better. He wanted to drop into the River so he could see them with more clarity, but he resisted the urge. In the front of the group was the leader, and he could recognize him now – it was the Caller, the one he’d seen draining blood from a mountain lion when he was inside the cave with Brent.

  They are after me! Winn thought. He instinctively lowered himself so that only the top of his head could be seen from the ground, and peeked over the edge of the platform.

  Should I climb down to the trailer to hide? They just walked right through Marty’s trailer, so that might not be a safe place to go…

  As the group approached the first driveway light, it flickered and went off, plunging that part of the trailer court into darkness.

  He watched as the figures approached and then passed into Gale’s trailer. The flash of light against Gale’s bedroom window stopped for a moment, as though he’d paused the game, then it resumed. If Gale had detected the ghosts in his trailer, it hadn’t unnerved him enough to stop playing for long. Winn watched as they emerged from the trailer, continuing on, and extinguishing the next driveway light as they went.

  Now that they were much closer, Winn could count them – there were sixteen in all. It bothered Winn that he could see right through them. He couldn’t wrap his brain around the idea that these figures could claw at anything; they looked too ethereal, too insubstantial. Still, their presence in his trailer court spooked him, as though a gang of thieves were prowling around his home. His heart was racing and his mouth felt dry.

  They were approaching his trailer now, and the leader was close enough that Winn could make out his features. Definitely the same guy, Winn thought. What will they do when they find that I’m not in the trailer? Will they start looking for me?

  He held his breath as the first of the ghostly figures passed into his trailer and out of sight. Slowly the others joined it, until there were no more apparitions in his view, and things started to look normal again.

  Then the driveway light immediately across from where he was perched blacked out, and he saw the face of one of the figures emerge from his trailer. He slunk down as far as he could go and still see the ghosts. One by one the others emerged, until the entire group had reappeared, and they continued to march. He waited for one of them to turn and notice him, up in the trees, spying down at them, but they didn’t turn – they kept facing forward just as they had from the first moment he’d spotted them out in the desert. They continued further into the trailer court.

  Maybe they’re after Jeanette? Winn wondered. She said something about them coming. Maybe they’re here for her.

  He watched as the group of ghosts marched past Jeanette’s without slowing. The leader of the group was steering them to a trailer a little further down and across from Jeanette’s. They marched relentlessly, with an even pace. Winn wondered if maybe they’d march right through the trailer court and continue on down the road. He let out a little air, relaxing as he realized that if they were after him, they seemed to have missed him. He saw them pass into Brent’s trailer and he waited for them to emerge from the other side.

  After a moment, he was horrified to see them returning, coming back out of Brent’s trailer. One of them was holding Brent, a hand over his mouth. Winn imagined that, had he not been able to see the ghosts, Brent would appear to be floating.

  Winn sat up, suddenly unconcerned about the ghosts seeing him. They were taking Brent, moving back through the trailer court. Brent seemed to be asleep; his eyes were closed and he wasn’t struggling. They carried him past Winn’s trailer, then past Gale’s, and were soon passing through Marty’s trailer on their way back to the desert.

  They’re taking him back to the cave! Winn thought. What do I do?

  He saw the last of the ghosts pass through Marty’s trailer, and he climbed down from the platform. Once he hit the ground, he began to pace.

  What do I do? he thought again. They’re taking him to the cave, I know it. My mom is gone, so is Brent’s father. And Marty. I’m all alone here.

  He thought about going to the cave, but then he remembered his promise to Marty. He got on his bike and rode down to Marty’s trailer, hoping by some miracle he had returned, but he had not.

  I can’t leave Brent out there alone! Winn thought. If someone doesn’t stop them, that Caller will bleed Brent into the rock the same way he did with the mountain lion! Winn imagined Brent strung up by the feet, his throat cut, his blood slowly washing over his face and down to the ground, draining away. He knew he couldn’t let that happen to his best friend, even if he’d promised Marty he wouldn’t go back. He looked down the driveway, hoping he’d see the headlights of Marty’s Cadillac returning and he could talk to him about what had just happened. He straddled his bike, waiting, hoping, becoming frustrated. They’d have Brent back at the cave soon, and it might be too late. I can’t wait for Marty to come back, he thought. I have to go save Brent, now.

  He placed his foot on the bike’s pedal and pressed down, launching himself forward. He steered to the path that ran behind Marty’s trailer and out into the desert, pedaling as fast as he could go.

  Chapter Twelve

  He dropped his bike next to the tree at the mouth of the canyon, and began walking the sides of the rough riverbed. He wished he’d thought to bring a flashlight. The moon was still rising in the distance, and there was little light to see by. He felt his feet land unevenly on the stones and outcroppings.

  He was focused on reaching the cave, but in the back of his mind he knew he had a much bigger problem – what to do when he got there. How was he going to rescue Brent?

  When he was riding his bike through the desert, racing to catch up with the ghosts, he struggled with the same question, but he reached a conclusion as to why they’d taken Brent: he had the coin. If I still had it, he reasoned, they’d have taken me. It’s the only explanation.

  Now, as he made his way along the canyon floor as quickly as he could, he wondered if giving the coin back would be enough.
I’ll tell Brent to take it out of his pocket and give it back to them. If I have to, I’ll take it out of his pocket and give it to them myself.

  Would that do it? Would that satisfy the Caller, or the spirit in the cave? What did they want?

  The cave spirit wants to be repaid, Winn thought. Just like Father Kino was supposed to repay it. It healed him, and he didn’t build the shrine as he promised. The coin it gave to me – it healed, too. Just like Father Kino was healed. But what was I supposed to pay?

  Then it came to him, as he pushed aside juniper brush and quickened his pace: the three days hadn’t been an expiration of the coin at all. It was the cave spirit’s expectation of being repaid. And when it didn’t get paid, it sent the ghosts, looking for it. Brent wound up the payment.

  He saw the opening in the ground, ten feet ahead. As he reached it, he listened, hoping to hear Brent, but the cave was silent. I promised Marty I wouldn’t go in, he thought. But if I don’t, Brent might die. I have to try.

  He slid down and under the depression, then back up and into the cave, moving as quietly as he could. He began walking, and dropped into the River, hoping it might give him a way to see in the darkness. A glow in the distance beckoned him on. Can’t let them see me like this, he thought. They’ll kill me too if they see me in the River.

  He slowly made his way down the cave’s tunnel. As he approached the open room where he’d seen the apparitions of Father Kino and the Caller, he stopped and held himself against the rock wall of the cave, trying not to be seen. The room was filled with ghosts, the same ones he’d seen following the Caller as they’d marched through the trailer court. The Caller was standing in the same spot he’d been before, and next to him was Brent, suspended in the air.

  I can’t get to him, Winn thought. He’s too far away. They’ll see me long before I reach him.

  Winn waited. There was no communication between the Caller and the ghosts that he could hear. The ghosts were moving back and forth in the room, as though they were waiting for something to happen.