by Marcy McKay
“You know you almost got me killed.”
He sighs and shrugs again, digging his boot into the porch. “I know, I know, I put you in more danger without your money, but I didn’t realize that until later in Chinatown. I spent all day looking for you to return the cash. I searched everywhere, but man, you disappeared.”
That word hangs between us. My bumps and bruises tingle with thoughts of the Street Killer. Not to mention the cut Diablo just gave me. Me and Turdmouth must’ve walked in circles the whole time, missing each other.
Turdmouth’s crazy thinking sort of makes sense to me. Sort of.
His thumb brushes my sliced face. “Diablo?”
“Yeah.” His touch butterflies my insides, so I’m glad he can’t see me.
He nudges my shoulder. “Are we cool again?”
“Yeah, but you really are Turdbrains sometimes.”
“I know. Sorry.”
We both laugh, then remember Diablo’s body nearby. I stuff the envelope in the left sleeve of my jacket to keep it safe. I already know the answer, but ask anyway, “Did you find your pops?”
“Nope. You?”
I shake my head.
“You can’t believe what all happened yesterday.”
“Oh, yeah I can.” I point to the blurry spotlight in the wet sky instead. “Do you know what that is?”
“No. I just came in where we did last night. I was trying to make my way back to your statue, but this place is creepy.”
There’s no time to explain about O’Dell’s phone call. I nod toward Diablo knocked-out cold. “Think you killed him?”
“I’m not sure, but we better get going.”
I pull my wet hoodie up again, then race into the storm. Turdmouth follows behind. The rain slaps me hard and smacks my cut with each drop, but I keep going for my family. The air’s extra charged. There’s no sparks, but I feel ’em for sure.
I don’t want to, but I still hear Mama’s cries from Valentine’s Day night. “I’ve got to chaaaaaaaaaaaange.”
Please be alive …
We race around the corner by Ronald Freedmont’s mint bush. The bright, white light shines one section over. A lot of the snow has melted here, so I zoom straight toward the truth. As we pass by David Marshall, a voice yells, “Copper.”
O’Dell steps out to face us. He stands by a tree stump grave. I try to ignore its meaning of a life cut short. Even in his green raincoat, he seems soggier than us. He looks way older than fifteen tonight, so withered and out of breath. He shouts over the storm, “I told you not to come here.”
“You’re not my mama.” I regret that as soon as I say it.
Turdmouth inches closer to me, just enough so his shoulder touches mine. Two against one.
O’Dell shouts over the rain. “That Diablo guy’s here.”
I holler, “He attacked me, but Turdmouth knocked him out at the chapel.”
“Okay.” He pulls out his cell phone and starts to dial, then stops. “It’s too wet here. I’ll call in a minute.”
I nod and take off again, but O’Dell grabs my arm. It’s too dark to see his face, but I feel him trembling. It volcanos through his entire body, then shudders through me. I’m not sure if it’s from cold or scared, but I want him to stop.
He glances at the spotlight, his voice hangs low, “Don’t go there.”
Jerking away, I step back. I don’t want to hear this. I’m not ready.
O’Dell just keeps shaking his head at me. He looks off, then looks back again and shrugs.
The rain pours on. The night grows even darker. I fold up my insides a little more, pulling deeper into myself. This can’t be happening. The white light around the corner looks blurrier through the storm, but it’s still shining. I hear voices, too. I won’t believe O’Dell ’til I’ve seen for myself.
He’s bigger than me. Stronger and faster, too. There’s no way I can out run him. I’ve tried.
Glancing at Turdmouth, he seems to know what I’m thinking. Even through our spats, we’re still flipsides of the same coin.
He nods at me once. His eyebrows hunker closer together, then he turns and tackles O’Dell. I hear their soft oomph as the two topple to the ground and start wrestling across the snowy, dead grass. I don’t want either of ’em to get hurt, but nobody’s stopping me tonight.
I’m too close.
Clouds swirl overhead. The damp trees seem to rustle with the news I’m home. That fact travels from bush, to grave, to each blade growing from the ground. I race by David Marshall, Edna Gladsberry, Joseph Goleman. Friends who are like family to me. I fly by ’em now, hoping they’re not all I’ve got left.
I’ve almost made it to the light. I don’t run into it like the afterlife books Mama’s read to me at the library. Those folks see their bodies in car wrecks below, then they walk into a beautiful whiteness.
This is a giant work light shining down into the Vanderhausen Mausoleum. I pant, staring at two cop cars and one Eternal Peace truck sitting parked to the side. Worst of all, there’s crime scene tape blocking the place off with big, black letters across the sunny yellow: CAUTION, CAUTION, CAUTION.
My world stops.
My gut says I finally found Mama.
CHAPTER 40
I’m standing outside of the light, soaked and broken. The spotlight beams into the open door of the small mausoleum, not far from me. Half a dozen cops walk in and out from the cemetery house. Everyone wears navy slickers. I’m so afraid it’s Mama in there, but too scared to move. I shake like O’Dell just did and can’t stop. I don’t want her to be gone.
Especially if she’s dead gone.
The darkness turns blacker. I could kick myself. I noticed that door cracked open yesterday, but forgot to check it after I found our envelope of cash. What kind of girl doesn’t notice her own people under her very nose?
It might not be her.
My gut says it is.
My face is full of wet. My sliced cheek hurts even worse, but I don’t bother to wipe myself off.
I notice No-Brains on the far side. He’s usually in the middle of things, in charge barking orders, but he’s sitting on his car trunk tonight. I can’t see under his slicker, but his head droops and shoulders slump. He’s staring into a cup. Coffee, I guess.
An invisible baseball bat slams me over and over. I lean against a tree. It’s not a cutoff stump, but I still feel a life’s been cut short.
Two cops walk out of the tomb.
My attention snaps back to focus. It looks empty in there. For now.
Now’s all I’ve got. There’s no more yesterdays, and probably no more tomorrows with Mama. A noise stirs behind me. Probably O’Dell catching up.
He grabs at me, but I dart under the yellow tape and rush toward the small mausoleum. Everything that’s happened the past three days, all the good and so much more bad, has led to this moment. I’ve done nothing but live and breathe for Mama. Really, my whole life.
I blast through the spotlight and up the four stone steps inside. The storm echoes against the cemetery house like a drumroll. There’s six marble drawers in here, but the bottom one lays open.
The room spins.
Mama lies stuffed in there at a weird angle like a forgotten toy. I look away immediately, but will never forget her last picture. The brightness of her blood-splattered jeans, torn sweater and just a hint of the blue angel wings inked on one shoulder. She’ll never take flight now. How her limp hair covered most of her face, ’cept for one eye with that same forever stare as Spook and Sugar. Her throat was slashed, too. Blood, so much blood. Worst of all, her mouth got caught in a shrieking “O,” like she died mid-scream. Her last moments on earth were pure hell.
Everything blurs. My knees buckle and I drop to a squat, the cold marble chilling my fingers. Death’s stench gathers … rotten meat, plus moldy socks. I cough and sputter, but still swallow that stink since it’s the last thing I’ll ever get from Mama. I slap my hand over my mouth to keep quiet, but already gave mys
elf away.
Outside, hazy blobs stare this way through the door.
“Copper!” I hear No-Brains shout.
There’s commotion. He’s already bounding this way. There’s no doubt he was her big brother and my uncle. Patrick Noblitt may be the only other person on this planet who understands my heartache, since he had her sixteen years before me.
His nearness still suffocates me though. I’ll never get to ask her what her problem was with him, their parents, or find the answers to a bazillion other questions mamas should tell their daughters. My last hope’s crammed in a mausoleum drawer. I do what Mama always taught me.
Run.
The night knows I learned its secret and the sky cries harder for me now. No-Brain trails me, but I don’t care. I’ll lose him like always.
I stomp through another puddle. I can’t go home to the Warrior Angel. O’Dell’s probably waiting there, so I head back toward the Nobody Section and the UNKNOWN NEGRO to escape. I’ve left the light behind and am back in the darkness where I’ll stay forever. There’s no sunshine for me anymore.
My tears fall harder than the rain. Mama always said I was the best thing to ever happen to her. Who’ll tuck me into my sleeping bag at night? Who’ll share snacks and secrets with me? Who’ll love me best of all?
Nobody, that’s who.
I’m alone now. An orphan. Forgotten. I never knew my daddy, and all I’ve got left is Mama’s brother who she didn’t even want in our lives.
Still, he didn’t kill her. I stared into No-Brains’ walnut eyes yesterday in his car. Those are her eyes, and his worry matched mine. I saw how sad he looked tonight. We both knew this would end in a body bag, but couldn’t say so out loud. It just took us a while to find her. I sprint across the same ground that’ll soon soak up Mama’s mangled body forever. She belongs to the earth now.
Not me.
That leaves Diablo or Mr. Jesus as the Street Killer. How did I not hear my own mama murdered? How did her screams not wake me? How can she really be dead, but me go on living?
When I see the dark outline of the cross on the chapel roof, I realize my mistake. I ran straight back to where Diablo attacked me and we left him knocked out. Looking beyond the naked rose bushes, I peer onto the porch for him. Both plants still guard the front door …
He’s gone.
The night wrecks me from all sides … death, rain and despair. It’s impossible to see, but I back up through the mud. Running, I feel a monster-size hole in my heart. The wind howls as I remind myself to avoid the Mexican Section. I wait to see if it wails like Diablo when …
He grabs me from nowhere. I scream and stare into the pretty boy’s face. He’s not smiling anymore. Diablo clutches my throat.
I dangle off the ground, my sneakers hanging midair. My fingers grapple at his hands, but he’s too strong. I’m gagging. He chokes me harder. Darkness closes in on me. I see Mama. Death reaches for me when Diablo tosses me to the ground.
I cough, swallowing a mouthful of rain. It’s icy and muddy down here. I’m scrambling away when he jerks me up by the coat collar, then drags me back to the chapel porch.
He swings open the door and shoves me into the black room. I collapse to the floor in a wet heap. He slams the door behind us, but it doesn’t close all the way. The trees rustle so much outside that the whole building shakes.
I’m holding my throat and hunker away from him.
After he flips on the light, the brightness blinds me at first…
They’ve cleaned up after the Barrio Brothers trashed the place…some. Bibles and hymn books aren’t strung about on the floor, the cross is back on the front table and they swept up the broken glass, but it’s still not nice and neat like before. The room looks sloppy, especially with Diablo’s graffiti still haunting the walls:
You’re dead
He’s got the nerve to act like he’s never seen his tagging before and keeps staring at it. The closet’s still probably locked, so I can’t hide there. I could break a window, but that’d take too long. The only way out is through the front door where the storm rages on.
Diablo flicks open that plain switchblade. That sound hammers my heart. He makes his way to me, slow and easy, the silver blade leading the attack. His eyes are still the color of syrup, but they’ve changed. He watches me like Eddie Loco. He watches me like a killer.
I’m still on the floor, but start scooting back toward the pews. “Where’s your pearly knife?”
His voice growls low, “Who hit me?”
“One of the groundskeepers. I don’t know him, but I’ve got your cash.”
I start to pull out my envelope, but he says, “Stop.”
I keep moving backwards and add, “I know where your drugs are, too. We could leave right now and get ’em, then we’ll be even.”
“Too late.”
I bump into the wooden pew behind me and hold up my hands in surrender. A gust blows open the door more, but Diablo doesn’t seem to notice. He keeps staring at me, like he can’t decide where to stab me first. “The cops are here.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not. It’s what that spotlight is. They’re working the crime scene. Mama …” a sob leaks out.
“She deserved it.”
His steely voice shocks me. No more of Diablo’s easy chitchat. Mama’s bloody neck flashes through my mind again, her mouth caught in that screaming “O.” He did that to her. Something hard turns my stomach.
Hate.
I spring at Diablo like a lion, unleashing what I’ve wanted to do to him for a long time. His drugs killed her way before he murdered her. I claw his pretty-boy face, shrieking, “You killed her!”
“I didn’t,” he shouts, trying to fight me off him.
My scared and sadness keep spewing. “I know all about you and that scummy preacher. I’ve seen you sneak in here at night to bawl over your slutty sister’s grave.”
“Don’t call her that.”
Thunder cracks and lightning flashes through the window. It rattles us both. We just stand there staring at each other, both out of breath and out of family.
Diablo points his knife back at me. “My sister was better than you’ll ever be.”
“I doubt that.”
He says something else, but the storm swells so loud outside I can’t hear. Miz Jesus slips through the door and motions for me to keep quiet.
My heart sings. She’s saved me again. No-Brains probably called her to pray over Mama. She’s not wearing her fancy TV suit tonight. She’s dressed in full black, even her rain slicker. Miz Jesus tiptoes church quiet toward us.
I need to calm down Diablo. “Sorry I said that about your sister. I’m just upset. It hurts to love someone so much, then they’re just … gone.”
He nods.
I keep my gaze fixed on him and keep talking. I even call Maria by name. I’m not sure what all I say. I’m just babbling. I talk about how sweet and pretty and nice I heard his sister was, hoping he doesn’t hear Miz Jesus. My neck hairs prickle up, knowing she’s almost here.
Closer and closer, she moves in.
Reaching from behind, Miz Jesus holds a knife. She slices his neck in one, full swoop—a quick line of red. Blood spurts onto me and I scream as his eyes bulge and he grabs his throat. He’s gurgling blood, already leaking between his fingers.
Diablo crumbles to my feet again, but that was his last breath. His graffiti wall says it all spray-painted in red:
You’re dead
Relief floods me. She’s my guardian angel. I step around the pool of blood and to give Miz Jesus the world’s biggest hug. “I’m so glad you’re here. Thanks so much. He—he killed Mama.”
I let the tears fall. The nightmare’s over, though not really ’cause Mama’s dead. I step to Miz Jesus for her to hold me, but she yanks me by the wrist.
Her eyes and smile both shine glassy. I say, “Ow. You’re hurting me.” Her hands are ginormous. She’s holding Diablo’s knife, the one with the pretty pearl handl
e. Her grip tightens around me. “Why are you doing this?”
“Shut up.” She jerks me to her, anger flaming in her eyes.
“I don’t understand.”
In her sweet voice, she says, “It’s time to surrender yourself unto the Lord.”
CHAPTER 41
“What?” I say to Miz Jesus, who points Diablo’s favorite knife at me. I feel his dead body at my heels. She’s told me to surrender myself unto the Lord before, back when she was talking in code that she had more cash for me in front of her husband.
I still don’t understand, but her hard stare crackles more fear through me.
Her blue eyes and smile shine bright, brighter than the spotlight beaming over the crime scene and my dead mama.
“You …” is all I can manage.
She lets go of my wrist and flips her rain slicker back. Her fake red hair tumbling around her face. Even damp, she’s Miz America beautiful. She also reeks of booze and something else I still can’t think of—that rat hiding in back of my brain. It’s uncatchable.
The storm flickers the chapel lights above us. It’s dark on-and-off for a few seconds, then stays on. Diablo lies facedown, all scrunched up, so I can’t tell if he died with his eyes open like Spook or Sugar.
I stare at him, but ask her once more, “Why are you doing this?”
She sighs and twirls her hand toward the wall like a game show hostesses. “The graffiti was a nice touch. Don’t you think?”
“What do you mean?”
She tosses her head back and laughs a shrill, spikey cackle. “You haven’t figured it out yet? What a shame. I thought you were more intelligent than that. I guess I was wrong.”
The lights flash again. When they’re back on, her stare never leaves me as she and the knife edge toward me. I back up over Diablo, his blood’s already turning brown, but still looks wet.
She says, “You’re difficult to catch.”
