He set the filled water bottle back in its holder, flipped up the kickstand and hopped on. It felt good to be back on the bike again. Tad was a fairly accomplished rider, and he always enjoyed the sensations of the ride, the air flying by when he was on a hill or had a good head of steam built up on a straightaway. He took the familiar turns along the drive, peddling easily on the flat surface. The shadow of the branches overhead providing some welcome shade, though even still the heat was all about him, pressing against him. His mouth immediately dry, and he was sweating though he was hardly exerting any real energy. His progress produced no dust. He could just make out the trails left by the tires of his father’s truck, looking centuries old, not as though the vehicle had only passed through perhaps an hour ago. The faintest of footprints, possibly even his own. He thought they more closely resembled the faded remnants suggesting the perambulations of a bygone race of people, vanished forever from the earth. And nature went about its scurrying, even in that hellish weather. A squirrel chattered at him as he flashed by, laboring a bit now; a thrush hopped along a branch and gave a throaty trill. He took his hands off the handlebars and steered with only his legs, a trick he’d learned a couple of summers ago, reaching down to take a pull from the water bottle. In a few minutes more he came out to the spot where the cleared areas widened on either side and the trees thinned, giving way to the larger oaks, and the driveway met with the Willow Road rolling along in either direction, toward town and away from it. He veered to the left and the populated area, standing up against the peddles and pressing harder, feeling despite the saturating heat and his apprehension the thrill of speed through self propulsion as he flew down the first of the series of gentle hills, keeping to the middle of the road as there was no traffic. Glancing upward he could see the wheeling spot of a hawk or other predatory bird as it swept majestically toward the north and vanished utterly in the blue, winking out as though it had never been.
He went up and down the hills, now keeping to the side of the road as a few cars began to pass him. Coming up on his right would be the high school and the middle school, with the practice fields between the two. When he saw them still a quarter of a mile away he pulled the bike off the road and came to a stop a few yards away from traffic. He wiped his forehead on the bottom of his shirt and sipped from the water bottle again, looking over toward the buildings, the one where he had spent so many tedious hours in his life being bored to tears, and the other where, if his luck held, he might still have the opportunity in the four years that were to come. He shook his head, thinking with amazement that his life had come to such a pass that he was actually hoping he would be able to go back to class in the fall. Amazing, how quickly priorities can change. It was as though he’d lived two separate lives, the first one complete unto itself and having lasted slightly in excess of fourteen years, and the second having begun that fateful afternoon a few weeks before when he’d first caught sight of Daddy and the world had been turned on its ear. It was true, the second life had as a feature the unpredictability and danger that he’d sometimes wished for in the first. But other factors had come along with these, and the costs did not outweigh the benefits, not at all.
There was nothing unusual to be seen from his vantage point. From this distance, he couldn’t see any movement near the buildings. When he’d spoken to Daddy on the phone, he’d immediately thought that there could be far worse meeting places than the school. It wasn’t far from Feral’s main commerce area, and there might well be witnesses close by. But now that he’d arrived, he was forced to reassess that theory. The practice field was actually to the rear of the buildings, out of sight of the Willow Road. No one driving past would be able to see whatever was going on back there. It was relatively secluded, and if he got himself into trouble, he couldn’t count on the presence of unsuspecting passers by to thwart Daddy’s plans, whatever they might be. His heart sank as he came to this realization, but a moment later he felt another surge of the righteous anger that he’d been carrying with him since the attempt on Daisy’s life. Good! I’m glad there won’t be anyone to see. Let him do his worst, and let’s have it out! I won’t live my life in fear, and I won’t allow him to threaten me! He got back on the beach cruiser again and began to peddle, making his way slowly up the last hill, with the school looming closer now on his right.
When he was a few hundred yards away he stopped and dismounted again, and began wheeling the bike alongside him. The combination elementary and middle school was the one closest to him, the high school being slightly past it; the practice field was in the back, between the two of them, with trailers alongside it that were used for special classes, remedial and summer school courses. He stowed the bike behind a low hedge of bushes on the nearer side of the building. He was right next to a window at ground level, and he could look through it into one of the very classrooms that he had attended a few years before. He could see the desk where he used to sit. The sticks of multicolored chalk by the chalkboard. The green shag carpet where he’d played with the other children.
He glanced up at the piercing blue sky, his eyes watering, almost closed against the glare. Never before had he felt the sun such a malevolent entity bent on inflicting discomfort. But truly it was beyond that. This was a life threatening heat. He sensed this with the unthinking part of him, the same one that blares out a warning when one is caught out of doors in a killing cold snap without adequate clothing. The tingle of the sun on his skin was just that close to physical pain. He had never felt the like before, and it frightened him. He wondered, as he seemed to find himself wondering about everything these days, whether Daddy had something to do with it. The extent of the man’s powers as yet unknown.
Leaving the bike and flattening himself against the ground, partly for stealth and partly cowering beneath that cruel sun, he advanced to the edge of the building and slowly, ever so slowly, peeked around the edge. Ahead of him was the dugout and the baseball diamond, and beyond that in the outfield he could see various pieces of training equipment set up, a line of tackling dummies, an obstacle course of tires for mobility drills. The trees standing in a stout line marking the edge of school property. And he could see something else, too, and there was no mistaking that figure, hopping briskly back and forth from foot to foot, now rising up to his full height on the tips of his toes. There was no one else in sight. Daddy continued with his calisthenics, going through various stretching motions like a jogger preparing for a run. A shimmer of heat across the surface of the baseball field.
Tad straightened up and came out from behind the corner. He walked without hurrying in the direction of the ball field, allowing himself to breathe and to be aware of everything around him, from the grass beneath his feet to the soft earth below it, the green katydids with their glossy wings clinging to the tall stalks and leaping gracefully out of his path. The still, parched air and the boundless blue sky swimming in the heat above. Each individual drop of sweat trickling down his forehead and across his neck. He approached the chain link fence behind the diamond and walked through the visiting dugout to stand next to home plate. Here he paused and looked again at the scene in front of him. Wanting to see if he had missed anything obvious. Everything as it had been before, but this made him more apprehensive rather than less so. It would have been better if he had been able to see the threat from a ways off. Daddy continued his stretching, blissfully unaware of Tad’s presence, or so it would seem.
Tad started forward again, walking up and over the pitchers mound. He could see Daddy clearly now, and it seemed that he had been spotted too, for now the exercises ceased and Daddy turned in his direction and put his hands on his hips, that familiar, hated smile slowly spreading across his face. His glassy eyes jiggled in his head. Today’s choice was a referee’s outfit, a black and white collared polo shirt and matching pants, spotlessly white, with a single broad black stripe going up each side. He also had on a pair of black track-and-field style shoes, with cleats, and a white baseball cap that concea
led his thinning hair. A whistle hung around his neck. He looked neither pale, nor sickly, as he sometimes did. His cheeks had a rosy bloom of color, his smile was wide and inviting, and he was fairly brimming with enthusiasm. Tad was no longer able to approach the man without feeling the vibrations he gave off. Everything tightened itself when he was near; Tad’s senses all fluttered alarmingly, inanimate objects seemed to stiffen, all around him the natural processes he had been in the habit of ignoring for so long were speeding up and slowing down. He could feel the wrongness that Daddy sent out. The man is an abomination, a cancer. How can I fight against this?
He was in the outfield now, walking through the longer grass again. Behind the man in stripes stood one of the towering grandfather oaks, and the shadow of its branches fell across some of the practice gear, ending near Daddy’s feet. It was the only shade nearby. When he was about fifteen paces away he stopped walking and stood his ground, keeping his face as smooth and expressionless as he could. But he was boiling inside. The sort of hurt that he felt, stemming from the mistreatment by someone he’d once considered his friend, was unlike any he had ever known before. It was the unfairness of it all that stung him more than anything else. The fact that he’d begun to trust someone and that trust had been yanked out from under him. And he felt the loss of not only that friendship, but also the invisible, intangible part of himself that had allowed him to just play, the simplest, the most basic, and most essential part of childhood that he could no longer engage in with the same joy that he once had. It was like being in mourning after the death of a loved one, and it was probably the most bewildering aspect of the whole affair. He hadn’t even known how to broach that particular matter with Stitch, because when he’d had the opportunity, he’d been embarrassed. He’d feared that it wasn’t some special power or ability of Daddy’s that had made him that way. He suspected that when it came to that, it was he that had changed. The change was internal, something that had come about in him as a result of what he’d seen and heard. And when he looked within himself, he felt, with the intuitive part of him that he’d begun lately to trust, and that Stitch had advised him to pay attention to, that it was not reversible; the change was permanent. A part of him was lost. And Daddy was a convenient scapegoat, having done more than enough, in Tad’s mind, to be identified as manipulative, as cruel and disrespectful, as downright evil. Of crossing lines that were not meant to be crossed. Looking at this man, now his foe, a part of him did indeed feel that he would like to inflict damage, physical harm, for the danger he had put Daisy in, for continually harassing the family and invading Tad’s home life. But what he wanted even more than that was to never see Daddy again. He wanted the man to say he would go away forever and leave the Surrey family and the town of Feral in peace. Tad would be satisfied with nothing else.
“And here we are,” Daddy said. “Ahem! So good of you to come. Now the game can begin.”
“What do you want, James?”
A spasm crossed Daddy’s face; his left eyelid fluttered like a wounded butterfly. “Foul!” he cried. “That is a flagrant foul, hem, and I really must protest. I do insist that you call me by my proper name, don’t y’know.” His chin jerked slightly left, once, twice.
He’s barely holding it together. Is it the smarter move to try and calm him down or rile him up? He thought he stood a better chance if he could get Daddy to lose his temper. He might make a mistake. “That is your proper name, you pitiful man. Maybe you’ve rejected it, but it’s your given name none the less. I’ll say it again, your father is dead, James. Daddy isn’t coming back. He has abandoned you.”
The smile was fading from Daddy’s face. Even though Tad meant what he said, he could not help but be affected by the vacant sadness that was behind it. He wondered why he had never noticed it before. “You’re wrong,” Daddy said. His voice had changed, and it had become plaintive, the words wavering. “You think you’re so smart now, don’t you, with your little mind so full of new and shiny knowledge. But you don’t know anything, hem, hup! My father was a great man, he is a great man. He saw things no one else saw, knew things no one else knew. He understood that the physical body is a prison. He knew the power that would come to him when he was released from it, when he became cosmic. Some day he will be worshipped as a god, and his name will be spoken of with reverence, as one speaks of the Almighty. There will be feast days dedicated to his honor, and we will castrate one and twenty street urchins and feast on their entrails! Ahem! Daddy is all around us now, don’t you see him? Can’t you see him? He is there, there, there!” He pointed a finger down toward the ground, at the trunk of the tree behind him, up toward the blazing sun. His eyes goggled at Tad, threatening to burst out of their sockets. His lower lip trembled.
Tad laughed. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t understand how he had been so captivated by this man, this poor lunatic standing before him, raving and sputtering. He was not to be envied, not for anything that he could show or teach, any knowledge that he could impart. He was a false prophet. But the danger he posed could not be ignored. He was not harmless, or powerless. He had to remember that. “Anything you say, James,” he said. “You keep on believing. I don’t care. I only care about one thing- you leaving me and my family out of your life’s plans from now on. This is the last time I will ask it of you. I have nothing left to offer you, and you’ve nothing to offer me. Let this end. I don’t want to see you any more, or hear from you, not ever. Do you understand?”
Daddy shook his head with the wondering expression of an exasperated teacher whose student can’t seem to grasp the most basic concept of the day’s lesson. “You don’t really think I’m going to throw in the towel, do you, pretty one? You’re much too precious of a bauble to let roll away, hem.” His chin jerked to the left again, once, twice. “The times we shall have together…”
Tad could see how tightly he was wound, and he was finding it more and more difficult just to be around him. He found that all of those emotions that had been battling it out inside him on the ride over- the fear, the anxiety, the pity, the disgust, the hatred- were all going to boil over if he could not control himself. It was just so infuriating. He wanted it done, over with! “No,” he said. “No. We won’t. You will leave me and my family be. Do you understand?” His voice was rising, and he felt that same helpless swelling of anger as he had when he had ordered Stitch to answer his questions. But the man before him did not react as Stitch had.
“It will never happen,” Daddy whispered. It was he who was giggling now. “Don’t you see, I’m never going to go away.” He began to caper around again, delighted by how upset Tad was becoming. Tad, seeing this, tried desperately not to let his emotions show, but he was no longer able to. Taking deep breaths did not help. The air around this man was poison, and the voices in his head were all howling. Eat you alive! “I’m going to be there all the time, peeking in the window, hiding under the bed, in the sugar bowl, in the salad bowl, in the toilet bowl. Your last thoughts before drifting off to sleep will be of me, and they will be your first thoughts when you awake, after a night of my prancing through your dreams! Hee-hee! Ahem! I am your destiny, little man! I am the alpha and the omega! I am…”
“Shut up!” Tad screamed. “Shut up! You son of a bitch! Leave me alone, damn you, just leave me alone! I hate you! I want my life back; I want what you stole from me!” Tears were streaming down his face, and he hated them just as passionately as he did the object of his fury. He scrubbed them away with his fist and leveled his index finger at Daddy’s grinning face. “I want back,” he said again, “everything that was taken from me.”
Daddy tittered. “Don’t you see,” he said, his face shaking with mirth. “I couldn’t give any of it back. Even if I wanted to.”
Tad wiped at his cheeks again, and when he spoke, the heat had gone out of his voice. He felt so empty, and so utterly alone, more so than he had ever felt before. The weight of his own solitude, in this man’s presence, was crushing him. “Stitch said t
hat you have no personality,” he whispered. “He said that’s why you create these characters-for-a-day. You try on different faces because you don’t have one of your own, no real identity, no real qualities. When you wipe off the makeup and strip away the accessories, you’re a blank slate. But it isn’t true. He’s letting you off too easy, because that absolves you of blame for the things you do. You do have a personality, and it’s the worst example I’ve ever seen. It has only two principle tenets- selfishness and cruelty. You’re completely self centered, utterly without empathy for a fellow human being and their feelings and desires. And you get off on the suffering of others. Isn’t that right? That’s your special pleasure. People’s pain. Making them squirm.”
Woods Page 48
