A while later, they sat inside the steakhouse. Across from him, Sully’s dad was reading a newspaper, as he ate his steak and baked potato. In the next seat was Sully’s mother, who was ignoring the sandwich she had ordered, staring off at the wall, the look on her face now anger, a red pout with bloodshot eyes. Beside Sully, Anna picked through a soup and salad. A vegetarian, she did this habitually, always checking for little pieces of meat that might have accidentally made it into her food, like one piece of flesh would cause her a deadly allergic reaction. He knew she hated being in the steakhouse at all, the scent of meat cooking so prominent, but for the sake of Sully and his parents, she tolerated it.
Tonight, Sully was a vegetarian too. The imagined image of Caitlin’s burnt corpse made the thought of cooked meat repulsive to him.
His mother’s mood seemed to dictate the atmosphere. They ate in silence. It wasn’t until they were in the car, on the way back to Little Axe, that his mother spoke up.
“I think Monica should be here,” she said in a coarse tone.
In the backseat, Sully and Anna looked at each other. There were three people in the car who were not shy about telling Gladys Jacobson that she needed to mind her own business. Sully wouldn’t do it tonight. By the sympathetic look on Anna’s face, she wouldn’t do it either. Horace Jacobson, Good Old Dad, a usually quiet man by nature, but not a man to take shit from anybody, had no problem sticking it to his forlorn wife.
“Don’t start, Gladys. Sully’s got plenty on his mind without you turning your mouth on him.”
Sully looked from Anna to his mother. Her face was beet red, and her eyes were bulging. It looked as if her scowl could set the man on fire. She spoke in a hissing whisper. “I just don’t understand why that woman should ever be allowed to see my granddaughter again.”
His father started to speak but was cut off.
“She abandoned her daughter,” his mother said in a loud, self-righteous voice. “And as parents, the worst of all sins, even worse than murder, is to abandon one of our children. Never, ever, should we give up on them.”
Sully felt Anna’s claws sink into his forearm. He looked and saw that her mouth had fallen agape and realized that she knew what he knew. They had both heard his parents fight before. It was usually not that big a deal, as neither one was really that hurtful to the other. But tonight, in the last thing that she had said, Gladys Jacobson was not just talking to her husband. She was talking about him.
#
The sun had just begun to set when they arrived back at the cemetery. Though it was not dark yet, just the thought that it would soon be was enough to give the lone Taurus an ominous appearance to Sully. They were less than a mile from home, but still, he asked Anna if she would drive.
Anna started the car but didn’t back out yet. She waited until the Grand Marquis was well out of sight and then spoke.
“Do you ever feel that way? I mean, like your mom feels.”
Sully looked across the field at the large pile of Earth that would be used to cover Caitlin. Earth for her, wind for me.
“No,” he said. “My heart hadn’t beaten on its own for over six weeks. There was very little brain activity. In my dad’s position, I think I would have done the same thing.”
Now Sully looked at Anna, who had a ponderous expression. She held that look for about thirty seconds. Finally, she said, “Me too.”
Anna still didn’t put the car in gear. She waited about a minute and then said, “Do you ever wonder what your real mom was like?”
Sully laughed lightly. It was a question he knew people were afraid to ask him. Still, it was easy to answer. “Yeah. Of course. I’ve thought about it from time to time. But I never pursued it. My parents, the Jacobsons, have given me all I got. They raised me. They supported me while I was in college. I guess I just never wanted to break their hearts trying to find a woman who gave me up.”
To that, Anna nodded. “Makes sense.” She put the car in gear.
When they got home, Anna attacked him. She fucked him harder than he had ever been fucked before. She moved him all about the house, getting on top of him, bending over for him. By the time they were through, most of the day seemed to have melted away.
Afterward, she cuddled up next to him in bed. Then she said the words that he would never forget.
Anna said, “Death happens, my dear Sully. But life goes on.”
Chapter Three
Time came, and time healed. For a week, Sully didn’t make the seniors in his prep class think about college and he didn’t make the seniors in his math class think about math. Instead, he encouraged them to talk about Caitlin. They were slow to start, but eventually, they came out. And what they talked about wasn’t the eulogized girl their principle spoke of at the funeral. They didn’t talk about the honor student who was destined to spend the next four years of her life at Oklahoma Christian College. They talked about the girl who would have turned eighteen in November and, against her parents’ wishes, applied at several secular colleges in California. They didn’t talk about the exemplary Christian girl who was a spiritual inspiration to her peers. They talked about the girl who kept CDs by Pink and Snoop Dog hidden beneath the front seat of her car.
After the week of catharsis, his seniors seemed ready to move forward. It was business as usual. Death happens. But life goes on.
By the time November rolled around, Sully had healed too. He remembered the flashback he had suffered during the last trip, but it didn’t seem as powerful now. He refused to let it control him.
Again, Anna offered resistance. But he denied her. He had to face it.
#
Parts of the I-40 trip induced him into a trancelike experience. Each mile seemed like the mile before. Flat fields, cows, oil rigs, the water tower of the next town off in the distance.
Thoughts grew strange, at times illogical, like before entering sleep, only he couldn’t sleep, because the same road that hypnotized him, kept him awake.
“Daddy?” Monica said from the backseat, causing Sully to return from his distant place.
“Yeah, baby,” Sully said, as he looked at her in the rearview mirror. Her face looked troubled, like it always did when a question burned in her head.
“I want to kill my kitty.”
Sully was shocked for just a few seconds, not prepared to hear his little girl talk about something as permanent as death. Then he laughed, realizing that just because she knew a word didn’t mean she had a mature conception of it.
“Why would you want to kill Boots?” Sully asked. “Did he do something to make you mad?”
“No. I just want to see him come alive again. Grandpa says kitties live nine times.”
Again, Sully laughed. If there was ever a time his dad was talkative, it was when his granddaughter was around. He could picture the two of them sitting on the couch, watching a cartoon, his dad with a playful excited look on his face, relaying the folklore that only a child could believe.
“I think your grandpa was just being silly, hon. And I really don’t think you should kill Boots.”
Monica looked even more troubled. “Why not, Daddy?”
It was a difficult question to answer. Sully wondered how much should she know about death at this time in her life? Should she know that it was permanent? Or, for a few more years at least, should she keep her cartoonish conception of things returning after falling from a cliff or being hit by a train. Sully wasn’t sure if there was a right answer to her question. He finally went with, “Because he might not come back.”
Sully knew Monica loved her cat very much and would be devastated to lose it. He had hoped that his statement would end the conversation. It didn’t. But the conversation did take an unexpected turn.
“Why not, Daddy? You came back.”
“What?”
Could she really know about that? Did she know about the coma? He had never said anything.
“Grandpa said you died and came back. He said he knew you would becau
se you’re like a cat.”
With that, Monica was satisfied. She picked up a coloring book and some crayons.
Sully was not satisfied, though. How could his dad say something like that to her? It was so unlike him to step in and discuss things with her that were better left to Sully. He was so willing to tell Sully’s mom to butt out of Sully’s life, so how could he butt in?
The conversation would bother Sully for some time. He would think about it off and on all the way to the drop off spot. Then, the events of that night would push thoughts of it out of his mind.
#
Sully hung up his cell phone. He had called Anna to let her know that he was on his way home. She had actually answered this time, but she had rushed to stop talking, hard at work on her book.
He had been on the road half an hour since he gave Monica to Faith. His anxiety was slight. But it was increasing ever so slowly as he approached the point where last time he had experienced the flashback. Could something about that location have set off the memory? Or maybe it had been the rain. If it were the rain, he wanted it to rain again. He suspected that would be the only way to recover, facing all the cues of that night.
Sully drove past the hotel he had stayed at last time, and still nothing had gone wrong. He began to cling harder to his rain theory. But, after thinking about it a while longer, he realized that this theory couldn’t be right. He had driven in the rain around home, even at night, and though that had triggered anxiety, it had never brought out something as substantial as a flashback.
Sully gave up on his attempt at playing amateur psychologist. All he could do was wait and see what happened.
Then something happened.
It was just a shadow. A large form, too large to be a deer or even a horse, not to mention way too fast, had shot across the lanes in front of him. Startled, but still determined, Sully continued, not even slowing down. He figured it could have been some trick of the light, the moonlight doing something unusual in the atmosphere. No big deal.
It happened again, this time much closer to the front of his car. He felt the physical cues from when he had experienced the flashback. A cold sweat. Awareness of his heartbeat. His body stiffening. His breath increasing. Sully cut his speed down to sixty. He checked the scene around him. He could still make out a car in the distance in front of him. Behind him, a car’s lights approached. That made things a little better. In the flashback, he had been alone on the road.
Sully struggled with what to do. Going slow was letting the fear win. But, at the same time, easing into it might not be a bad idea. He had tried to rush in last time, and ended up going completely out of his mind. Maybe easing into it would yield the small victory he needed, build his confidence a little. Then he could try it all out next time. All the way home, full speed ahead, next time.
It happened again. This time, it was way up ahead. But this time, it stopped. It stayed there for just a second or two, then, instead of crossing the road, it went straight up.
“What the fuck are you?” Sully whispered.
By now, he doubted that it was just some trick of the light that was causing this. It had to be something in his head. Maybe if he calmed down a little, it would stop.
Sully began breathing deeper. And he was able to slow his breath. A car caught up and passed on the left. That made him feel better, less alone, and it gave him an idea. He turned on the radio, but skipped through music stations, until he found a talk show. It was just some highly opinionated man, taking callers, talking about the current administration. Normally, he would have found such a thing annoying. But tonight, it was company, and it soothed him a little.
He drove on for another five minutes, feeling better, his body relaxing, able to pick up a little speed. Cars were still passing him, but that was fine—more company. He saw a road sign that announced the next exit. That was about the time the radio shut off.
The memory came flying in. He remembered how last time he had been listening to a CD and it had suddenly cut off, right before the real madness began, like the end of the music marked the severing of his connection with reality. He tried to speak, just to hear his own voice. But the fear wouldn’t let him. He just hung his mouth open without making a sound, awaiting what terrible thing would happen. He became unaware of his body and unwillingly focused on the feeling of utter terror. He wanted so bad to be anywhere but here.
He heard a thump on the roof of his car, telling him he couldn’t escape, bringing him back to his body. Then he heard the piercing sound.
Screeeeeeeee. . .
It had come from on top of the car.
Screeeeeeeee. . .
The sound of metal being scratched.
Screeeeeeeee. . .
What had been on the road was now on the roof of his car.
Screeeeeeeee. . .
And it was trying to cut through.
Screeeeeeeee. . .
The ability to think rationally was gone, and he couldn’t fade off into a sense of numbness and oblivion. Sully was left with sheer survival instinct. He hit the brakes hard. He heard the thing scream as it went from his roof, but he never saw it, because his car spun in a circle. He went with the direction of the skid. His tires protested as he continued to spin. But he eventually got the car under control, faced in the direction he had been going, and pulled off the side of the road.
He sat in the car, but only for a few seconds. Somehow, he felt like he would be safer outside. Maybe it was because both times things went crazy he had been inside his car. He got out.
The smell of burnt rubber was in the air. He looked all around, but couldn’t see the thing anywhere. He tried to tell himself that there wasn’t a thing. It was only his imagination. Somehow, his fear of traveling had made him go mad.
Sully turned around and felt on top of the Taurus’s roof. Nothing there gave an indication that the car had actually been scratched. Just to be sure, he ran around to the other side of the car, opened the passenger door, and got out the small flashlight that he kept inside the glove compartment. He shined his beam on the roof. Nothing but smooth paint. He put the flashlight in his pocket. He stood there for a few seconds, trying to catch his breath. Then it occurred to him. Somebody should have passed him by now. He looked first in front of the car. There were no cars there. But it was, at least, still the interstate. He looked behind him, and to his relief, saw headlights in the distance.
“Yes.”
Sully leaned on the side of his car. Why did he do this? Why not just let Anna do it for him? He didn’t have to recover. Or, at least, he could put off trying to recover for a while. Summer was a long time away. He wouldn’t be able to travel that much until then anyway. If nothing else, he could ease into this. Going crazy in the night, miles from home, was just too much.
Sully looked up. He noticed that the car he had seen was not far away and was slowing down.
“Oh great,” he said out loud, thinking they would stop and ask him if he needed help.
“No. I’ve merely gone crazy. Go on. Enjoy the rest of your trip.”
The car was basically just rolling as it came up the last ten yards. Sully was able to see its window come down. He then saw a head come out of that window, and it screamed his name.
“Sully! Run! Look out!”
The car took off quickly, squealing its tires as it went. The next thing Sully heard was the thing screaming. He turned around and looked up on time to see it coming. In the short time he had to look at it, all he could make out was a large human form in an even larger envelope of darkness. He didn’t have time to move. It came down on him. There was black. There were talons.
#
The road was back, unfolding in front of him. This time he had not stopped completely. He was creeping along. This time, no vehicle passed by, blowing its horn. But, in his rearview mirror, he could see the headlights of one approaching. Sully moved onto the shoulder so he could go as slow as he wanted. That was somewhere between twenty and thirty miles per
hour. He took the next exit.
He found the hotel and sat in the lot, not trying to understand what had happened, just stunned. He didn’t want to think right now. He had thought earlier, when he was on the side of the road. He had confirmed that things hadn’t been real, no shadow had been on the road, nothing had been on his roof. He had confirmed that the psychotic vision was over. All had felt real and okay. Safe. Logic had confirmed that he was safe. Then, in the end, logic had failed miserably. Illogic’s monster had come from the sky and gripped him in its talons.
This was not a math problem now. No chart or formula was going to help him solve this problem. Deductive reasoning was irrelevant. So for now, there would be no logic. Just resting. Hoping nothing bad would come again. It was an hour before he was able to walk into the lobby.
Inside his room, he left the lights on as he lay in bed. But they did no good. He was still afraid. He still shivered. He had felt that thing crash into him. Inside the blackness, he had felt its sharp talons touching him, squeezing him, and he could still feel them a little, just a tickle on his skin. It took him an hour to go to sleep.
#
He’s walking in the mist again, so light his step. And he can breathe. It’s been like this only one other time. And like then, the coma men are not here now.
#
The next morning, Sully was back on the road. He was tired, having gotten up earlier than his body wanted to. But he wanted to be home, to the familiar. He thought that then he would be able to stop dwelling on the night before, stop feeling those talons tickling him.
He called Anna early and told her that he had gotten real tired the night before and had to stop. He apologized for not calling her. Surprisingly, she said that was fine, because she had fallen asleep early too.
Sully had not told Anna about his flashback, and he decided he would not tell her about whatever had happened last night either. He wasn’t sure why as of yet. He thought it had something to do with wanting to do this alone, to face it on his own. But that explanation didn’t feel totally accurate. It felt incomplete. But then again, he doubted he could trust much of what he felt right now? He thought it best to just wait.
Scribner Horror Bundle: Four Horror Novels by Joshua Scribner Page 19
