Twenty Palaces: A Prequel

by Harry Connolly

  After twenty minutes, the van slowed. "Oh you're kidding me," Jon said. He turned off the music.

  I rolled to my feet to look out the windshield, but Echo was quicker. Looking over her shoulder, I could see a crowd on the sidewalk ahead, lit by a silent turning police light. They were holding handmade signs aloft, marching back and forth. The nearest sign read "Healing Not $tealing"; I didn't bother looking at the others.

  There was a second, smaller group of people on the other side of a strip of yellow police tape, all huddled together as if for protection. They clustered near the entrance to the taped-off building; the sign above the door read HILLTOP PHYSICAL THERAPY CENTER. One of the women threw her arms around an older woman nearby, then broke off from the group and ran under the tape to the van.

  Echo leaned over and opened the passenger door for her. She jumped inside, a tiny woman about my age with a turned-up nose and a nest of tight brown curls. She leaned across the van and gave Jon a quick hello kiss. "They're shutting us down."

  "Because of what we did?" Jon said, his voice loud with outrage.

  Echo hugged her. "Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry." Jon took hold of her hand. I stepped back in case Payton wanted to join the hug, but the curly-haired woman broke free and looked me in the eye.

  "You must be Ray. I'm Macy. Jon's said so much about you. I'm glad you've decided to come." There was something startling in the way she spoke to me, as though I was the most interesting thing in the world. She could have been a politician. "How was the party?"

  Things got quiet after that. Payton had moved from the back bench to the side one, probably to be as close as possible to Echo. I moved to the back bench while Jon pulled into traffic and Echo began to describe what had happened on the lawn. I knelt, staring out the back window as we pulled away.

  There, standing absolutely still in the midst of a crowd, was Wally King.

  "Oh my God!" Macy shouted from the front of the car. I spun and saw Jon's face in the rear view mirror as he put the index finger of his left hand to his lips to quiet her, then winked. She glanced back at me, obviously upset but she fell silent.

  Jon put his left hand back on the steering wheel. I settled onto the bench to look them over. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have any problem with a group of friends who were carefully not saying something in front of me. It's expected. But there were cops involved now, not to mention gunfire. I needed to be careful around these people.

  Macy sighed. "Sweetie, would you mind?"

  "Not at all," Echo answered. She took a small case from behind Jon's seat, opened it, and took out the two halves of a flute.

  "Something happy!" Jon said as she put them together. "We're still celebrating. Nothing is going to stop this celebration." She began to play a happy tune that made me think of green meadows and guys with turned-up green shoes, even though every pot hole interrupted the music, ruining the effect. Macy grabbed a paper bag off the dashboard and dug out some damp-looking fries.

  We drove for a while longer before I felt the tell-tale sharp turn and sudden bump of a vehicle pulling into a parking lot. "Hell yeah," Jon said. Echo put away her instrument, and a few seconds later, Jon was shutting off the engine and squawking the parking brake in place.

  Everyone piled out of the van. I could see my breath in the chill night air. Jon threw his arm around my shoulders. "Wait until you see what I have planned for us."

  Macy grabbed his wrist and pulled him away as Echo moved into his spot, standing close enough to command my attention. It was a well-timed switch, almost as though it had been orchestrated. "Big baseball fan, are you?" Echo asked.

  "I used to be." We had come somewhere outside the city. There was a single large building in the center of the parking lot; it looked like some kind of huge sports bar. Jon had chosen a spot near the back, past a scattering of Hondas, Toyotas, and Fords--not the most upscale models, but worth a lot when stripped down for parts. Not that I did that anymore.

  "We spent part of the day out at a field by Jon's house. He hit the ball as we chased it. I could see the appeal for him, but..."

  I laughed and looked over her shoulder. Jon and Macy were speaking very closely, very quietly as she examined his nine-fingered hand. Payton was just behind Echo and me, and he wasn't smiling anymore. "I gotta admit, I lost my taste for it. It's been a while since I followed a team."

  "Well that's not allowed!" Jon said, bursting in on us. "Ray, ten minutes, that's all I ask. Ten minutes and you'll be ready to throw in with the Mariners again."

  I liked the way he was smiling at me. It made me feel good. "Hell, you can have eleven."

  Everyone laughed. Echo jumped at Payton and threw her arms around his beefy neck, and he lifted her off the ground with one hand as we walked. Macy came forward and slipped under Jon's arm on the other side. I was the odd man, but it felt okay.

  The inside was dark and cavernous. Dings and clangs of dozens of arcade games could barely be heard over the blaring butt rock. Jon turned to Macy and yelled "Food!" over the din. She, Echo, and Payton yelled it right back, then headed toward a narrow counter at the back of the bar.

  Jon took my elbow. "Come on! Let's go home!" He dragged me through the bar and out the back door.

  There was a sturdy weathered picnic table chained to the back of the building. Beside it was a long, high chain link fence. It stretched twenty feet up, with huge squares of canvas hung over the far side. Then I noticed it had a roof, like an enclosure for a giraffe. A cage.

  I almost had time to get angry, but then I noticed a machine at one end. Jon offered me an aluminum bat from a rack. "What do you think, huh?"

  I couldn't help but smile as I accepted the bat. "Pretty cold out here. Even the pros have given up the game until spring."

  "Screw them. I'm going to be out here all winter. Maybe I'll even try out for the M's."

  "Great way to get rid of those news vans."

  Jon laughed as he got a second bat from the rack. The back door opened and Macy, Echo, and Payton carried a startling amount of food to the picnic table. They laid out red plastic baskets full of french fries, burgers, and fried chicken strips, then began to eat. The women tore into the chicken as though they were starving, and the smacking noises they made were disgusting.

  "Whoa," Payton said. "Hungry, babe?" He took a shaker from his pocket and sprinkled a pale white powder over his fries. Macy and Echo reeled away from him, holding their noses and gasping for air.

  "Jesus!" Echo said. She had tears running down her cheeks. "You and your garlic powder."

  "What? It purifies my blood."

  I watched Macy and Echo as they wiped away tears, trying to decide if they were play-acting to bust Payton's chops. They didn't look like it, but I was standing almost between them and I couldn't smell a thing.

  Jon snatched a burger from the table. "You first, buddy."

  I went into the cage and stood beside the plate. The night was cold and so was I. Still, it felt good to stand here after so long. This was a sacred spot.

  Jon dropped a token into the coin slot and the pitching machine began to whir. It was a spinning rubber wheel with a ball feeder. The pitches were going to come quickly, without warning. "It's been a while," I said. "I haven't even warmed up."

  "No excuses!" Macy yelled. "If you hit every pitch, I'll introduce you to one of my girlfriends."

  I looked up at her just as the first pitch zipped by. Everyone laughed. Echo leaned toward the chain link. "Guess you're stuck with hand lotion and an old sock, huh?"

  "No one understands me but my socks."

  The second pitch came in much too fast for me and I swung so late I shouldn't have bothered. I was more prepared for the third pitch; even though my swing was still rusty, I managed to tip it foul behind me. It felt good.

  "Foul!" Macy yelled. "Somebody help this boy!" She yanked open the door and marched in. There was something about her expression that told me it was all in fun, so I shrugged, handed her the bat, and stepped out o
f the cage.

  The next pitch whizzed by while we were switching spots. When Macy stepped up to the plate, her stance was all wrong: knock-kneed and tilted too far to the right. Her skinny little hands were too far down the bat and too far apart. She obviously wasn't a player or a fan.

  "Put them into the upper corners," Jon said. The next pitch came in even before he'd finished his sentence. Macy chopped it into the upper left corner. "Other side," Jon said. She hit the next pitch into the upper right corner. "Left corner." She did it. "Right corner." She did that, too.

  I stared at her, dumbstruck. Her stance and grip were all wrong, but her swing was quick and scarily accurate. If they'd asked me to put money down, I'd think I was being scammed.

  "Left si--no, right side!"

  She tried to change her swing as the ball came in, but she hit it a foot and a half from the upper right corner. "No fair!"

  Jon laughed, and so did she. "Boring!" she exclaimed. She dropped the bat as she walked out of the cage.

  "My turn." Echo rushed into the cage and grabbed a bat just as another pitch zipped by.

  I was about to ask Macy where she'd learned to hit like that, but she ran to Jon, threw her arms around his waist and tilted her head back for a kiss. I turned away from them, went to the picnic table and picked up a couple of fries.

  Payton was already standing there. Just as I was trying to figure out how to ask what he knew about Jon's cure, he spoke: "You're wondering why she's with me."

  "What's that, big guy?"

  "You're wondering why a woman like Echo is with a guy like me. Well, she is with me. Don't forget it."

  It was one thing for a cute girl to bust my chops, but a challenge from a guy like Payton had to be answered. If he thought he was going to make me back down, he was in for an unhappy surprise, not to mention a broken bone or two. "Don't forget what, now? Because I'm not listening to a word you say."

  That was what he wanted to hear. He squared off against me and stuck his finger in my face. "Maybe you should clean out your ears, asshole."

  "Hey!" Jon called. "What's going on?"

  I didn't look away from Payton. "Dude is telling me all about how great his relationship is."

  Jon rounded on Payton. "This again? Payton, he's my friend, and we're celebrating tonight. Can't you--"

  "I'm waiting!"

  We all turned to the batting cage. Echo was standing at the plate, bat cocked at a crooked angle, waiting for a pitch.

  Payton took a token from Jon's hand, mumbled an apology, then walked over to feed the machine. Jon turned to me. "Ray, I'm sorry. Payton's cool; you don't have to be scared of him--"

  "No sweat. I wasn't."

  "Shit. Look. I don't care what Payton says, and I don't care what Barbara says, either. Or my parents. You and I were friends for a long time, and what happened was hard on both of us."

  "Harder on you."

  "Yeah, it was, but you know what would have made it easier? Having my best friend around. I kinda missed you, buddy."

  I had no idea how to respond. I'd come back to town knowing I'd have to make my peace with Jon, but the last thing in the world I expected was for him to make it so easy. "I, uh... I never had a chance to say I was sorry--"

  "And now you don't have to! Seriously, don't. Like I said, everything is different now."

  Jon was my oldest friend in the world, and he had every reason to hate me. I owed him a debt I could never repay. But here he was acting like none of that mattered. A flush of gratitude ran through me that was so strong it made me feel dizzy.

  "Okay," I said. "Everything does seem different. You're right. So, Jon... What happened? How did you get this cure?"

  CHAPTER FOUR

  "Aw, Ray, if there's one person who deserves an answer to that, it's you, but I can't, buddy. I promised. This person gave me my legs back, right? And all I had to do in return was not tell anyone who I got it from or how it was done."

  "That's cool. No problem."

  "It's the only thing the guy asked in return."

  "Hey, I take the question back. No problem."

  He was about to say something else when there was a loud clang from the cage. Jon spun around with surprising speed and stalked over to the chain link.

  Echo crouched at the plate with her butt out way too far and one of her feet almost out of the batters box. She didn't know how to stand any better than Macy did. The next pitch came in and she smacked it. The ball flew in a line drive straight at the pitching machine, struck it at the top of the rubber wheel and rebounded straight into the air.

  "Hey!" Jon yelled. "Don't you break that machine!"

  "Relax," Payton said. "She didn't do it on purpose."

  The next pitch came in and Echo hit it onto the exact same place. Jon threw himself wildly against the chain link. "DON'T YOU BREAK THAT MACHINE!"

  Echo didn't even glance at him. The next pitch came in and she hit it squarely on the pitching machine's guard, two inches lower than her previous shots.

  She gave Jon a sly look, and he burst out laughing. That was what she was waiting for; she tossed the bat aside and said: "Your turn."

  Jon went into the cage like a man entering a chapel.

  Echo turned to Payton. "Put a token in for the man, hon, then get us some more cheese and chicken."

  "More?" He dropped the token into the machine, then went inside to do as he was told.

  Macy and Echo turned toward me. Each took one of my arms, and I let them push me back to the bench until I was sitting down and they were standing over me.

  "I was Jon's therapist," Macy said. "From before. He talked about you all the time. Ray this. Ray that."

  "So where have you been?" Echo asked.

  "Shoveling snow at the North Pole." It came out sharper than I'd planned, but I didn't like the way they were trying to stand me down, even if it was just for fun. "Are therapists allowed to date their patients?"

  "Nope, but once he was cured we didn't need to hide it anymore."

  "And he's a big improvement over the charity case she was dating before," Echo added. "I'll bet there's a lot of job security in arctic snow shoveling."

  "Smart bet."

  Macy leaned closer to me and lowered her voice. "Jon said you were in jail."

  I looked away from them, into the parking lot where Jon's van was parked. I didn't want to have this conversation. "Only the last few years. And before you ask what it was like or why I was sent up, don't. Please."

  "What was it like?" Macy asked.

  "Why were you sent up?" Echo asked.

  I didn't look at them. Being challenged and tested was an everyday part of prison life, and my instincts told me that I should back them off. But I wasn't living a prison life anymore. You think you've paid your dues, but you haven't.

  "My friend started a bar fight. He was hitting on a woman while her husband was sitting right there. The woman turned out to be the lieutenant governor's sister-in-law, but we didn't know that at the time. When the husband shoved him, I jumped in and popped him a good one."

  "Gotta tell you," Echo said. "I'm on the husband's side in this."

  "Yeah, but the other guy was my friend."

  "You went to jail for a single punch?"

  "I went to jail because I put a guy in the hospital. Plus, the cops thought my buddy and me were boosting cars, and they threatened serious jail time if I didn't testify against my friends."

  Echo folded her arms over her chest. "You should have testified."

  "I'll remember you said that if shit ever comes down. Look, did you see the picture Jon had today? His mom took that on the day of the intramural championships. It seemed pretty important when we were 12."

  "And you hit the winning home run off of Jon."

  I was surprised Macy knew about that. I had almost forgotten it myself. Jon really had talked about me. "The thing is, after the ball sailed over the fence, Jon smiled at me. He'd just lost the game, but he was proud of what I'd done. He was always on my s
ide."

  "And you spent a lot of time at his house," Macy added. "He said his mom fed you breakfast every day before school, and lots of dinners, too."

  A sudden vision of Jon's mother came into my mind--her leaning over me, smiling, as she set a bowl of cereal in front of me. Across the table, Bingo would complain about "cold soup" but I loved it. I'd watched Mrs. Burrows carefully, searching for some sign that she resented me and my space at the table, but I never saw one. "There wasn't a lot of breakfast at my house. There wasn't much dinner, either. Most of the home-cooked meals I ate were at Jon's house. That's where I learned that people can have normal conversation when they eat with their family. His backyard is where his father taught me to throw a baseball. When his kid sister misbehaved, I saw how they..." I almost said punished misbehaving kids but nothing that happened to her met my family's definition of punishment.

  "So it wasn't just Jon, then," Echo cut in. "You were friends with the whole fam."

  "Yes, I was."

  Macy nodded, thoughtful. "And a few months after that game, you shot him."

  "What?" Echo said. "Seriously? You're the one who shot Jon?"

  "It was an accident, of course, right?" Macy's tone was sympathetic; I had never gotten much sympathy from people who knew the story and I sure as hell didn't want it now. She continued: "Boys and guns in the same house, no safety training, no trigger locks, no gun safe. I know whose fault it was that Jon was shot, even though Jon's family laid all the blame on Ray."

  I could remember the sound of the gun going off, and the sight of the blood, but what I remembered most of all was my refusal to believe that Jon had been shot and my own desperate search for an excuse that would make it someone else's fault. "Some debts can never be repaid."

  Everything is different now. I walked away from them and started toward the batting cage, where Jon was still hitting balls. Above the canvas, in a neat line along the top of the fence, was a perfect line of baseballs wedged into the chain link. Jon smacked another one and I saw the metal deform as the ball slammed into it, sticking in place.