“Charlie!” Randall said, his voice loud. Charlie turned to see him leaning against the doorframe, staring in disbelief.
“Quiet!” He shushed his uncle. “We’re leaving. Stay close to me as we walk down the hall. Don’t say anything to anybody.”
“But … but … where’s Diego?”
“He went to get the car. Follow me and don’t say a word!”
Charlie pulled his uncle behind him, opened the door, and looked out. He briefly wondered if Randall would protest Charlie taking charge, but then tossed the thought aside. Three nurses sat at their station, chatting and reading charts. They did not look over at the doorway. It appeared that no one had heard the crashes inside the room.
Charlie reached behind him and grabbed onto Randall’s good arm, pulling him swiftly from the room and its odor of musty wood. They walked down the hallway in the opposite direction of the nurses’ station.
Avoiding the elevators, the pair snuck through a door marked “exit” and walked down the back staircase, the squeaky sound of their sneakers echoing off the walls. The smell of fresh paint in the stairwell nearly made Charlie gag. It seemed like the flights of stairs would never end. Step after interminable step, his senses buzzed on high alert for any sound or movement ahead of or behind them. Charlie was sure that at any minute a group of witches would jump from around the corner, teeth bared, biting and tearing into Randall’s and his shoulders until they were reduced to bloody corpses on the floor. It took all his willpower not to run screaming down the stairs and out of the hospital.
But Randall’s heavy breathing behind him helped him to focus and reminded him of his main responsibility: to get his uncle safely out of the building, to make sure Diego was all right, then to get the three of them in the car and back to West Seattle as quickly as possible.
The relief he felt when they stepped outside into the gray afternoon light was so great that he gasped.
He pulled Randall forward until they were walking side by side.
“Just keep moving. Look normal. Stay by my side and we’ll find Diego,” Charlie muttered to his uncle, who nodded.
They walked along a cement path that led through a small garden and then rounded a corner to the emergency entrance.
Diego leaned against Randall’s parked car, tapping his foot and looking up at the hospital’s upper floors. One of his arms was crossed over his chest, while the thumb of his free hand pressed keys on his mobile phone. He appeared to be completely safe.
More relief. A part of him wanted to run to the boy and throw his arms around him. But he knew he couldn’t arouse any suspicions, and so far in their relationship, Charlie had never run to Diego and begged for a hug like a frightened child. It would definitely look strange. Instead, he scrunched up the shoulder of his sweatshirt to hide the hole that the orderly had made and walked to the car.
“What took you guys so long? I’ve been texting you. Why are you coming out the side door?”
“Oh, uh, Randall had a strange reaction to the medicine,” Charlie said. “It made him start groaning and shaking.”
He looked at his uncle, who was staring straight back at him. Charlie nudged him in the side.
Randall’s face, which looked shell shocked, softened. He made a semi-convincing groaning sound, then moved his shoulders in a way that Charlie supposed could have looked like a shudder.
Diego bought it hook, line, and sinker. “Oh my god! What are you doing outside the hospital? Shouldn’t a doctor be looking at you?”
“No, it’s all right,” Randall said. His voice was actually shaking for real this time, adding authenticity to the charade. “They, uh, told me to go home and …”
“And rest. They told him to go home and rest,” Charlie continued. “They said it’s normal, and he’ll be, uh … .”
“Right as rain,” Randall finished.
Diego drove them home, mostly in silence, though he told a few family stories of uncles or cousins who had broken arms and legs while working on the farm in Yakima. “You should be fine,” Diego said at the end of each story, as if the fact that his own family members had survived meant a sure recovery for Randall.
“Yeah, should be just fine.” Randall’s face clouded as he watched the trees going by.
CHAPTER 23
Another Dream
THE PAIN IN CHARLIE’S SHOULDER lessened as Beverly fed him a hot broth and rubbed his skin with a pale-colored unguent. “She did break through the skin, but there’s no bone showing, and I don’t think she tore any muscle. This stuff will stave off infection, as well as rabies. You should be okay,” she said, peering closely at his bare chest.
Charlie was relieved. It felt like the orderly had ripped his shoulder to shreds. Beverly placed her hands on the sides of his head and shut her eyes.
“Other than draining you some, she didn’t leave a trace of anything in you. This broth will help you regain your strength and take away most of the pain.”
In a way, Randall was lucky. The attack on Charlie diverted Beverly’s attention to her nephew. She seemed to have momentarily forgotten about her husband’s antics and how they resulted in a broken bone. All she did when they arrived home was give him a quick look, touch his arm with her hands, then nod.
“The doctors did a good job,” she said to her husband, her tone icy, before turning her back on him and ministering to Charlie’s injury.
When Charlie finished his soup and put his shirt back on, the three of them talked about what happened at the hospital. Beverly was most concerned with how the orderly flew through the air, bouncing off walls without seeming to be injured.
“It’s not like witches have indestructible bones,” she said, glancing at Randall’s wrist with narrowed eyes. “We’re just like you in that regard.”
“But I thought you told me certain witches could fly,” said Charlie. “Why does this surprise you, then?”
“Because witches like that are quite powerful in their own right. They tend to live clustered together, or far away from most humans. Their abilities far surpass just being able to fly. They wouldn’t be working in a minimum-wage job at a hospital.
“Besides,” she continued, glancing at Charlie’s shoulder, “if she really were that powerful, you would have been no match for her.”
“So she must be one of the echoes in Grace’s network,” Randall said.
“That’s what I think too. And,” his aunt took a breath and turned to her husband, “if you hadn’t broken your damned wrist, you wouldn’t have put the boys and yourself in harm’s way!”
They began to argue, which Charlie took as a cue to go upstairs and lie down on his bed. He was tired from the afternoon’s activities, in more ways than one. His eyelids felt heavy.
He had had his first real fight with someone. It was terrifying. But he had to admit that it was exciting too. He wish he had been faster when she lunged at him but was glad to know the reason his reactions were slow was because she had drained him, not because he choked in fear. He could still feel how his instincts kicked in once she let go of his arms and stopped the drain. All that training he had been doing in the last month had paid off.
Beverly thanked him profusely for saving Randall’s life and for fighting so well. Her praise was tempered by her concern for any injuries he might have sustained. But it was good to hear. He couldn’t wait to tell Rita and Daniel how he fought the witch and eventually subdued her, and how their voices were in his head, helping him. Well, he would tell Rita anyway. He could imagine her giving him high fives and making the “Woot! Woot!” noises she did to encourage him. Daniel, on the other hand, would probably just stare him down before saying, “You were lucky. Next time there might be five attackers. What will you do then?”
He yawned and stretched out on his bed, letting his eyes close.
In the dream, he stood in the doorway looking in at his first-grade classroom back in Clarkston. His uncle Randall was the teacher, though his face kept changing, turning into Mailman
Bob who used to deliver to their house when Charlie was little. Bob used to slip Charlie a candy or two from his pocket whenever his mom wasn’t looking.
Randall/Mailman Bob walked over to him and invited him into the classroom.
“But the desks are too small,” Charlie said.
“No, they aren’t. See for yourself.”
Charlie poked his head inside and saw many adults from the witch community sitting at full-sized desks, taking notes and looking very serious. But somehow Charlie knew it wouldn’t work for him.
“Don’t be so shy,” said Randall/Mailman Bob, handing him a green apple candy.
“I’m not shy anymore,” Charlie answered, popping the candy in his mouth and stepping into the classroom. As the sweetness spread out along his tongue, he moved to an empty desk in the back. When he looked down at his feet he saw that he was wearing roller skates.
“It’s a good way to get around school,” said Diego, who was sitting in a desk to his right. He wore nothing except for a pair of white underpants. Charlie wanted to tell him to put his clothes on, but the candy had stuck to his tongue, preventing him from opening his mouth.
He tried to sit down but, just as he had feared, the desk was too small. His knees wouldn’t fit under the table. He ended up sitting atop the desk with his legs hanging over the side.
When he looked up, he saw that all the other students in the classroom, except for Diego, had become little kids. They were taking a test.
“Keep your eyes on your own paper, only answer questions in Sections Three and Four, and whatever you do, no witchcraft,” said the teacher from the front of the room.
The teacher was now the orderly from the hospital, her braces gleaming bright green under the fluorescent lights. Randall/Mailman Bob was nowhere to be seen. The orderly walked up and down the aisles, watching the children as they filled in little circles on their exam papers with number two pencils. Occasionally she would bend over and bite one of the kids on the shoulder, causing them to burst and then deflate like a popped water balloon. Each time a kid exploded, all the other children would laugh and point at the pile of wet, deflated skin on the floor.
Horrified, Charlie wanted to do something, to somehow protect the kids, but the sticky candy prevented him from opening his mouth to find any Words. Furthermore, he found that he had sunk down into the seat of the desk and had become completely entangled. He couldn’t move his arms or his legs, and the roller skates on his feet kept sliding out from under him each time he tried to stand up. He wiggled back and forth, trying to break free.
Hearing a noise to his right, he looked over and saw the orderly with her mouth locked on Diego’s. They were kissing. Charlie could see their tongues going in and out of each other’s mouths. Diego pulled his head back and looked at him.
“I’m not gay anymore,” he whispered to Charlie, just as the orderly sank her teeth into Diego’s shoulder. Charlie watched in terror as he burst in an explosion of water. His skin shrank and slithered to the floor like a wet plastic bag.
“Now we can talk,” the orderly said to him.
Charlie bolted upright in bed. He looked around for the biting witch, but he saw only his bedroom. As the details of the dream began to fade, he tried to hold on to them. He had seen something, or nearly seen something. Something important. It was like the dream he had had about the kids on the truck being chased by the German shepherds. Something was going to happen, but he didn’t know what.
“Ding-dong,” rang the front door. He heard voices in the hallway downstairs.
CHAPTER 24
Saturday Night
“WHAT I DON’T UNDERSTAND IS where the hell you’ve been!” Beverly was saying as Charlie stood inside his bedroom doorway and listened to the voices in the foyer. He wondered who she was talking to.
“Beverly, I’m sorry, but there isn’t time for this. There’s been another break-in, at the …”
Charlie recognized the deep voice right away. It was Malcolm!
“I don’t care! I want some answers before you start ordering me and everyone else around! And why does your voice sound so strange?”
“Look, Bev, I really am sorry. There has been a lot of popping to do lately. More than ever before. I haven’t even been able to get to Asia or Europe. It’s all been the States and Canada. Maybe my voice sounds strange because I’m so tired.”
“But why haven’t you called? Or answered my texts? I’ve been covering for you, Malcolm. You left me alone here to defend you and run things all by myself!”
“You’re the real leader here, Beverly. You don’t need me to …”
“Do not patronize me!”
Charlie jumped as a pine branch slapped at the side of the house and raindrops pelted the window above the front door. He wasn’t sure if it was the mounting weather or Beverly’s anger that caused the noises.
“I’ve got a husband in bed upstairs, drugged out on painkillers, and a nephew who was attacked today …”
“He handled himself fine from what I hear.”
“Attacked today,” Beverly continued, ignoring Malcolm’s words, “by a hospital orderly. These break-ins are happening more and more and …”
“Beverly!” Malcolm’s voice barked, ringing with authority. “I’m cutting you off. I’m sorry, but listen to me. We do not have time for this. Someone or someones broke in to the Mossmans’ house tonight. You’re going to have to go over there and investigate with Daniel. They didn’t get anything, but it just happened, and there’s fresh evidence.”
“Why aren’t you going over there?”
“Because! As you so clearly pointed out, I haven’t been around to help. The community is going to get all worked up about me being absent and demand answers. We need to act fast to get evidence. I’ll do damage control later. Plus, you and Daniel have been following all of this, and you know the wards and protections that are up now much better than I do. You’ll be able to figure out how they got in to such a well-fortified home. I’ll stay here and watch over Charlie and Randall.”
“What? But what if someone tries to …”
“I’ll call you, I’ll call Jeremy and Rita, I’ll bring in reinforcements. Now come on, get going. We’re losing precious time.”
Charlie held his breath, listening for his aunt’s response. At first, he heard nothing. Then there was a quiet muffled sound, like an animal whimpering.
“I know, I know, honey. You’ve been under a helluva lot of pressure lately,” said Malcolm, his voice tender. “I’m sorry. I really am. I’ve been an ass. I promise when this is all over you can call me every name in the book. I’ll make it up to you, really I will. But you gotta get going.”
“All right. Let me talk to Charlie first. He’s heard all of this anyway,” replied Beverly, her voice shaky.
Charlie stepped back into his room and closed the door, embarrassed to have been caught spying on their conversation.
He walked into his bathroom and began to brush his teeth. Another branch slapped against the house, this time over his own window. Amos, who had been curled up asleep in the corner of Charlie’s room, got to his feet and hopped onto Charlie’s bed.
There was a soft knock on his door. Charlie spit into the sink.
“Come in,” he said over his shoulder.
His aunt walked into the bedroom. Amos hopped down from the bed and pressed into her legs.
“That’s a good boy,” she said, rubbing his fur.
“Honey, I know you heard the conversation below.”
“Sorry, I, uh, I didn’t mean to …”
Beverly smiled at him, her teeth reflecting the light cast from Charlie’s bedside lamp.
“Don’t worry about it. Listen, I’m gonna head out soon. I’ve got to meet Daniel at the Mossmans’.”
“Was anyone kidnapped?”
“No. They broke into Ginny’s bedroom, but she’s fine. She’s not popped yet. Her parents, however, are not fine. They’re really scared and angry. We’ll go over to inves
tigate but also to reassure Mr. and Mrs. Mossman that we’re doing all we can. Malcolm’ll stay here to watch over things. It’ll be better that way. The community is mad at him, so I think it’s better if he keeps a low profile for the time being.”
“Are you mad at him?”
Beverly paused, looking down at the floor before answering. “Yes. No. Sort of. But he looks terrible, like he hasn’t slept in days, so I guess it’s hard to stay mad at him. He’s back, I’ve got this thing to do, and when it’s all over Malcolm and I can duke it out.”
“Can I come with you?”
“No. Stay here. You’ll be safer here.”
“It’s not that. I want to see …”
“No. Look, you were very brave today. You saved your uncle’s life. But Daniel and I need to do a bit of public relations with the Mossmans, not just police work. If not, the community might stage an uprising. It’ll be easier if it’s just the two of us.”
Charlie sighed, then nodded his head. “Okay.”
“Malcolm said he has some phone calls to make. He’ll be downstairs. We won’t be long. Two hours tops, okay?”
He nodded again.
Beverly looked like she was going to say something else, then changed her mind.
“Get some sleep. You need to rest up after today.”
She turned and walked out into the hallway, closing the door behind her.
Charlie sat down on his bed, then gave Amos a good head-scratching before turning off the bedside lamp and lying back against his headboard. Even though he had taken a nap earlier, he doubted he would have trouble falling asleep.
He watched the shadows of tree limbs scurry across the carpet, just like the tiny crabs at the bottom of the tide pools at Lincoln Park.
He wanted to remember what seemed like an important element from his dream earlier. Something about Mailman Bob? Diego in his underwear? The orderly? What had it been? He was sure that it was an important detail, but it danced just beyond the limits of his memory.
The Boy Who Couldn’t Fly Home: A Gay Teen Coming of Age Paranormal Adventure about Witches, Murder, and Gay Teen Love (The Broom Closet Stories Book 2) Page 17
