Divine_Scream

by Benjamin Kane Ethridge

  “What for?” He took his sandwich in hand with a sullen shrug. “I won’t be her problem for that much longer. Remember?”

  Banch paused, shrimp halfway to her lips. “Yeah,” she replied. “I do indeed remember, Jared. But never forget, a best friend is the greatest kind of problem to ever have.”

  Chapter 16

  Jared

  When Jared was fifteen years old…

  He met Kaitlin for the first time. It was in a state of crisis, which would from there prove an appropriate symbol of their relationship.

  Jared followed a rigid schedule every day. He got up the same time every morning, showered, dressed, ate Wheat Chex, brushed his teeth with cinnamon toothpaste, and went to the bus stop for school. The stop was just two blocks down the street and there were no traffic lights, so he walked it with little trepidation. It was a straight shot and no big deal.

  The morning he met Kaitlin, however, it wasn’t a straight shot. The night before his dad had some of his friends over to watch the Dodgers game. It ended up sucking—a boring pitcher’s duel—so the guys got restless, drank way too much, and started joking around. His dad’s friend Tom, who usually traded such TV parties for long nights at nudie clubs, brought in a Hustler magazine. The guys played drinking games, betting on whether they’d get little boobs, big ones, blond, brunette, red head, race, and so on. Jared’s mother ushered him into his parents’ bedroom to watch sitcoms.

  The next morning he found more magazines near the couch. Tom must have brought in more later on that night and forgotten them when he left. Jared knew how to play this without attracting undue attention. He took one magazine, choosing a cover with the largest breasts, and then he hid the forbidden object in his school binder. He showed his mother where the rest of the magazines were, which promptly set off a fight with a hung-over version of his father, who hardly recalled where the magazines had come from in the first place.

  On the short trip to the bus stop, Jared flipped through the pages, growing more excited and fascinated by the stark truth of the female form.

  “Holy shit! Whaddya got there?” a kid yelled across the narrow street. Jared stuffed the Hustler away and acted casual. He’d seen this guy before: a total hybrid type student, a star football player and also a math genius. Obviously despite his stunning display of worth, he still possessed the same teenage mortal weakness as many.

  “Bring it out man. I want to see that shit. Was that Penthouse?”

  “It’s an art book,” said Jared, hurrying on.

  “Of course it is. And I wanna Jackson Pollock all over that chick’s labia.”

  “You’re gross.”

  “And you’re stingy,” the guy pointed out.

  “Leave me alone.”

  “Nope. Too much at stake. When else today am I gonna see that shit? Calculus lab is all morning.”

  “Sorry to hear that, but it belongs to my dad’s friend.”

  “Which totally stopped you, right? Come on. I’m just gonna hound you all the way to school. You know that right?”

  “Well…” Jared thought a moment. “I’m not going to school.”

  “Oh really?”

  Jared turned up the street. He’d walked this way with his mom before. He could cut over and walk back down to the bus stop from the other side and hopefully keep his distance from this spoiler of dreams.

  “Come back man,” the guy called, throwing his arms up. “I’ll give you my lunch money to borrow it for just today.”

  “Thanks, no.” Jared quickened his strides.

  “You suck!”

  Jared never recalled the kid’s full name. It might have been Matthew… something. Evidently he got in a car crash on a canyon road in his early twenties and couldn’t play football in college. He went on to be an engineer though and did well for himself. Jared learned this later from Kaitlin who had the interest to actually attend their high school reunion. He always wondered how things might have went that day if he’d just shown Matthew the Hustler and been done with it.

  The walk up the street turned out to be longer than Jared expected. His thoughts wandered to the type of high school category he fell under—he was decent at whatever he applied himself at, which usually extended to computer programming and science, but he still wasn’t a genius in those disciplines. He loved movies but couldn’t hang with novels or lengthy historical accounts. Jared pretty much was a mediocre person on all fronts.

  But I have this. He unfolded his binder and got a gander at an Asian woman with an unruly undergrowth of pubic hair. He flipped the pages until he arrived at a photo of a woman with bigger breasts. He had no idea at the time that a certain banshee watched him and took notes about his preferences in anatomy.

  Jared glanced at his watch. It was a quarter till and he wasn’t even to the main cross street. He broke into a jog. The road stretched and the distance became more apparent—he’d never thought of it before, but this was way, WAY out of the way: he ran faster but the bouncing landscape in his vision, the jumping trees, the quaking streets, all dancing to his quicksilver breaths, never opened up to the bus stop. And when it finally did, the bus resembled a bright yellow model down the road, in the distance. Gone.

  He got to the corner and dropped his folder and his backpack fell off his shoulder. He screamed. He felt terror then like he’d not felt since that time he was five and walking to feed Fatso. He dropped to his knees and bit his fist. He knew he shouldn’t be carrying on. He knew he looked like a scared little wimp, an annoying crybaby, and maybe he shouldn’t even exist in such a hard world, but he couldn’t help being scared and wimpy, and he couldn’t help being that purveyor of “oh please, this shit again?” to his friends and loved ones. That’s who he’d become.

  Slow footsteps dropped behind him and he looked over his shoulder. That was the first time he ever saw Kaitlin. He quickly stood and tried to look more formidable.

  “Damn, missed the bus again,” she muttered with a telling smile.

  She reminded him of Daphne from Scobby Doo, but a little heavier, which was a good thing, a really, really good thing to his breast-happy eyes, not to mention he’d always found Daphne very pretty for a cartoon. But even the presence of a real life girl his age could not stop the terror from rising inside him. Jared needed to just cry his eyes out. He looked to the road and he held back a scream. This wasn’t happening. He couldn’t miss school. Things had to happen the same as they always did or things might fall apart at home.

  Kaitlin headed down the sidewalk, touching her violet comb barrette holding her red locks back. He accidently let out a shudder and she glanced back. “You okay guy?”

  He nodded. Closed his eyes. Shook his head. “Supposed to be… on the way to school.”

  “Aren’t we all?” Kaitlin pulled out a pack of gum from a side pocket in her backpack. “Want some? It’s grape.”

  Jared said thanks and with a trembling hand took a piece. He just held it though—his mind went too fast to think of chewing something.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Kaitlin asked. “You’re as white as a ghost. Not to be rude or anything.”

  Jared tried to breathe normally. “Never… missed the bus… don’t know what I should do.”

  Kaitlin chuckled. “How about head home? You got a key right?”

  “My parents are still there. They’ll get mad and—” Jared’s muscles went limp. He dropped his binder. The Hustler spilled onto the ground.

  A redhead on horseback aimed her naked, heart-shaped ass straight for Kaitlin.

  “Yuck!” She kicked the magazine away from her. “Pervert.”

  Jared went stiff as a board. “No—I found that on the way here, in a bush.”

  “Bush is right.” Kaitlin rolled her eyes and started away.

  Jared fell against a no-parking sign post and held his face, stick of grape gum still wedged between his fingers. He didn’t want to cry anymore—the pretty girl would hear him, so his body quaked instead. When he was able to get contr
ol, he lowered his hands.

  Kaitlin was still there though, checking him out. “Panic attack?”

  “No,” Jared snapped. “I’m totally okay.”

  “You look totally un-okay to me.”

  She retrieved the dirty magazine and handed it to him. Jared slowly hid it back in his binder.

  “I lied,” he admitted. “It belongs to my dad’s friend. I swiped it this morning.”

  Half her mouth lifted in a smile. “Curious, huh?”

  He shrugged.

  Her half-smile became a full one. “You’re cute, guy. Definitely not a pervert. What’s your name?”

  “Jared.”

  “Mine’s Kait—well, Kaitlin.”

  “I’ve never seen you at school before.”

  She grinned and gestured to the empty street. “Not many have.”

  Jared coughed out a laugh. It surprised him he was capable with how on-edge he was.

  “I’ve only been in the Hills for about a month now,” she said.

  “Oh.”

  “You really want to get to school, Jared?”

  He nodded hopefully.

  She blew a purple bubble and crackled it between her lips. “Cool. That was a good bubble.”

  A faint warmth entered Jared’s core. He immediately trusted her, and had no idea why.

  “Tell you what.” She pulled out a cell phone. “My friend Stacy’s grandpa is a nice man. He’ll give us a lift no problem. He only lives on the other side of the park.”

  “I’m not supposed to go in cars with strangers.”

  “He’s seventy-two years old, Jared.” Kaitlin scrolled through her phone contacts. “If you and I can’t take him, we deserve our fate.”

  “So you’re coming to school now?” he asked.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “It seemed like you didn’t want to.”

  “I didn’t have a reason to, but now I do.”

  “What reason?”

  Kaitlin held the phone to her ear. Then she pointed.

  To him.

  He was the reason.

  And Jared would always remember that.

  Chapter 17

  Kaitlin

  Kaitlin couldn’t help but grumble. It had taken her longer to get to La Habra than expected. Streets were barricaded and traffic accidents were numerous and grew scarier with each new one she saw. There wasn’t a single clue in her mind as to what to make of any of this, but it seemed like an invasion or some unseen disaster on the horizon. Jared had picked a fine time to fall in love again. Such huge events on the world scale and him in the mix? She doubted his stress load could handle it. And yet he’d seemed so damn sure of himself, and snappy. Where the hell did he get off? After all she’d done for him, this was the kind of treatment she deserved? He’d never been this way before. That Banch woman couldn’t be the cause—unless she was pulling the wool over their eyes. Kaitlin had been fooled by people before, but by all appearances that gray-eyed beauty was an absolute sweetheart.

  Well, these ponderings were pointless. Jared would need to explain himself when she got to the Bayou Cat. Kaitlin was certain that’s where he was. On the phone call, the voice in the background clearly said “muffuletta,” and there wasn’t any other restaurant nearby that served those sandwiches.

  Another roadblock came into view. Police cars. Uniformed men impatiently directing traffic around blockades.

  “Fudge,” Kaitlin muttered. If she missed Jared she’d never forgive herself. After a quick reroute down the street she found a parking spot along the curb. Quickly she grabbed her purse, killed the engine, and got out. The weather was peculiar, damper than usual. Faint traces of steam wiggled up from cracks in the sidewalk. Kaitlin got a bad feeling all at once and considered, for the first time, whether coming to look for Jared was a good idea. After all, wasn’t it always the person trying to help a bad situation the one who ended up stabbed or killed?

  Keep scaring yourself, but you know you won’t leave him until he’s safe, so might as well knock it off.

  She slowed down for a family arguing near the bus stop. The man had a bloody gash, which the woman tried to delicately inspect.

  “Goddamn it, I said don’t touch it!” The man shoved her away. “I told you I’m fine. I couldn’t breathe for a second and now I’m fine. Shit! I’m not a kid. You always treat me like a goddamn infant.”

  “Go to hell, Frank. I was checking because I care.”

  “Get off my dick, you nag. Go and take that rat-faced daughter of yours with you.”

  The little girl stuck to her mother’s leg and buried her face in the flower patterned folds of her dress. The woman’s mouth was open and quivering with shock and rage. “Don’t talk to her like that. What in the hell, Frank?”

  Kaitlin gave them a wide berth. “Excuse me, sorry,” she said in a low voice.

  The man and woman remained quiet as she passed, but as soon as Kaitlin got a few steps away she heard a growl and a scuffling of feet.

  “I said leave me alone!”

  He pushed the woman and child back. The little girl dropped to the sidewalk and the woman crashed into a chain link fence.

  Kaitlin whipped around. “Are you kidding me?”

  The man’s pale eyes burned at her. “This is private. Go on. We’re done here. Take that fake ass red hair with you.”

  “Fake?” Kaitlin almost lost it. She was always accused of that, but her scarlet hair was natural. “You need to leave right now buddy, or I’ll call the cops.”

  “Oh,” he said, taking a few steps toward her, throwing his arms left and right. “You may get one to come calling in say… uh, a few weeks, but go right ahead and call, sugar-tits.”

  Kaitlin met the end and did it without thinking. Her purse flew out, and perhaps halfway there to its mark, this guy’s big stubbly stupid shitface, she regretted her choice.

  But.

  It was already done.

  And maybe, not such a big regret.

  Her strike connected and the man’s head twisted around and his body followed in a punch-drunk ballet. The purse’s center seam split and everything spilled out. Compact. Wallet. Grape bubble gum. Lip gloss. Tampon case. And something opalescent—when it struck the ground, two honey colored roots burst free and anchored into the concrete. A flake of stone nicked her arm and peeled some flesh away.

  “Ouch!” she yelled.

  The man staggered back, holding his swollen eye. “Goddamn ouch? Ouch? I’m gonna yank your head off, woman.”

  The bulbs Banch had given her—something Kaitlin had planned to eventually throw in her dish of rocks and pebbles at home—swelled with orange and green stalks that shot up and shoved the man into the woman. Both flew back to sit on the sidewalk with the child.

  “The hell?” the woman shouted.

  “I don’t know!” the man shouted back. “Let’s get!”

  The trees grew around Kaitlin in a ring shape. Her impulse was to throw her arms up, but the trees weren’t really growing, but instead appearing, and as her hand lashed out in front of her, the trees formed around it—she pulled back but two fingers caught inside the trunk. The inside became denser, squeezed her ring and pinkie finger with an ungodly strength that became something evil—it hurt so bad she chewed into her lip and couldn’t even wail. The flesh, bone, and muscle blew up inside the tree and grisly bits spattered at her feet.

  Kaitlin smacked against the other trees forming behind her. She held up her hand and saw the torn, bloody sockets where her two fingers had once been. The air blazed with midnight diamonds and dark starbursts that connected, married, and brought complete black. Her blouse bunched up her back as she slid down the tree trunks and passed out.

  When Kaitlin opened her eyes her gaze was pointed at the redness of bone, blood, and sinew on her shoes and the concrete sidewalk below. She tucked her bleeding hand under her arm and felt faint.

  Banch had told her to stay still when using the bulbs, hadn’t she? But Kaitlin didn’t—wouldn’t
—have ever believed those bulbs magical. She thought Banch was giving her some kind of mystical hippie meditation instructions or something. What in the world was going on here?

  “There is no magic,” she said, in spite of the foreign trees flexing around her. It was obvious she’d inhaled some of that toxic gas the terrorists were using—it must have been that steam she saw wiggling up from the sidewalk. You’re a first-rate fool, Kait. This was a convincing hallucination though—as well as the pain pounding in her exposed knuckles. Maybe she really had been injured, just not in the fashion she’d seen?

  She bent closer to look at the pieces of her fingers on the ground and without any warning the red and pale bits burst into flame. The fire was aggressive, like it had met with gasoline, and it expanded from where the mess had been and reached the perimeter of the trees. Kaitlin grabbed onto the trunks and started to climb. Her gory, shattered hand painted the beige bark as she went. It hurt like nothing she’d ever experienced before. She locked an arm around one of the thin trunks and peered down. The fire climbed with a steady flow of licking blue and white flames.

  If this is a hallucination, I can just fall into that fire—it can’t hurt me.

  Heat waves blew back her hair, beads of sweat immediately covered her forehead, and she shook away that thought. “Hell with that,” she said, and climbed higher.

  Something struck her shoulder and pushed her down. She fought to keep hold on the trees. Looking up, she saw several other branches snap off as the trees grew together at the top. Four other branches fell down past her. She tried to flatten her body but couldn’t—they struck her—she slipped—her legs dropped into the fire.

  “No!” she wailed and scrambled up. The fire made a tremendous fluttering sound, as though it might die out, but instead it resumed its climb toward her, this time faster.

  Another branch dropped and walloped the top of her head. She got a view of racing silver streams of pain and the accompanying fire below. She realized she’d let go of the trunks completely and held on with only her thighs. She started to slide and threw her arms back around the trees. Her legs stung as though badly sunburned, but not horrible considering direct exposure to the fire. She could deal with that pain, but as she scaled upward, the agony in her injured hand became a person of its own: raw, unrelenting, vindictive, and incapable of caring.