by K. M. Malloy
Gary stopped humming, and continued to drool at the fire, so quiet and so still, like the statue of David, until a violent tremor shook him. Every muscle in his body began to shake so vehemently it forced out a strange clicking sound from deep within his throat, as though his organs were being squeezed out of him one notch at a time. Then as quickly as it had come, the tremor left him. He took a slow look to his left, then to his right, and reached into his pocket.
His arm rose until it reached the back of his head. She squinted hard to see what his hand was doing, barely able to make out his fingers rubbing at his skin just below the scalp line. A quiet click boomed in her ears as the blade of the pocket knife opened. A quick glint of steel flashed in the firelight, and he began to cut.
Her hands flew to her mouth as she watched him dig and saw into his own skull until he ripped off the back of his scalp and held it over the fire. Vomit lurched in her gut at sound of his blood singeing in the flames as it dripped and burned away in the ashes. His head rolled to the side, his absent eyes unnerving as he pointed the blade of the pocket knife towards her.
“You,” a voice shouted from behind her. She screamed when she saw Troy charging out of the darkness towards her.
“You promised you wanted only me,” Troy screamed.
“Troy what are you talking about?”
“You promised!” Troy gained momentum as he pulled a bat from behind him and raised it behind his shoulder.
“Troy please,” she cried.
“You promised me, Aire!” With all his strength he swung the bat towards her head, sending chips of bark flying from the log she had hidden behind as the bat came smashing down. Aire screamed as she ducked and began to run towards the sound of the water.
Branches and shrubs scratched at her limbs in her blind bolt through the darkness. Fallen logs and abandoned tree stumps tried to trip her as Troy raced behind her. Tears filled her burning eyes as she barreled into the night. She stretched her arms in front of her, but they did not react in time to stop her from colliding with a wall of blackness. She bounced backwards into the water and heard her wrist pop as she caught herself on a boulder. Her frosty breath cast an eerie fog around the darkness that had stopped her.
The African’s outline was barely discernible in the pale silver moonlight. His skin was so dark she could only see the whites of his eyes as he stared down at her, the rest of him blending into the night sky behind him. Tears and breath clouding her vision, she had to squint her eyes to see his fist slowly stretching towards her. From his unclasping fingers, a radiant white light appeared from the palm of his hand. She held her breath as the metallic rice grain began to float above his palm.
“Beware the blue lion,” his rumbling voice whispered, and the rice grain faded into wisps of silver smoke, taking its light with it as it disappeared into the shadows of the night.
The awe of the moment faded when she heard Troy approaching. He was encroaching faster this time. She jumped up to flee across the stream away from the African, his brilliant eyes following her across the rocks. His guttural warning followed her into the darkness, whispering to her from every inch of the woods.
Beware the blue lion.
Her shirt torn, her foot bloody from the loss of a shoe somewhere along her flight, Aire kept running her losing race. Troy’s footsteps thudded ever louder behind her, that awful wail he was making penetrating her skull, strangling her brain. Panic rose evermore as the adrenaline pulsed through her veins.
Beware the blue lion, the voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere all at once.
It was no use. She knew he was going to catch her, but she couldn’t give up, she had to keep running, had to make sense of it all. But it was too late. Troy had grabbed her from the darkness.
Aire let out a piercing scream and thrashed sideways so violently she jerked herself off the bed. Mitch leaned over from atop the mattress to look at her, his eyes wide.
“Aire are you okay?”
“What?” she panted, looking around her alien surroundings, soon realizing she was safe in her bedroom. “Yeah, yeah I’m okay.”
Her parents arrived at her door and pushed the switch on the wall, the light from the lamp on the nightstand blinding her. Her father didn’t have his glasses on yet, and only three rollers had been removed from her mother’s hair.
“Aire, dear,” her mother cooed from the doorway. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. It was just a bad dream is all.”
“Well, dreams aren’t real,” her father said brightly. “Hurry down, Aire Safari, we’re making your favorite pecan and banana muffins.”
Aire nodded. Her parents stood staring at her, waiting for her reassurance. She conjured up a weak smile. “Cool.”
They both smiled and left her room. She flopped back on the floor and let out a sigh. When she looked up, two cool blue eyes were peering down at her.
“Were you in Africa?”
“Don’t say Africa,” she said as she rubbed her eyes, “or Aire Safari.”
“So you were in Africa.” Mitch leaned further over the bed.
“What makes you think that?”
Mitch shrugged. “You kept saying something that sounded like African.”
“No more talk of anything to do with Africa,” she pointed at him.
“Did you really see a blue lion? That would be so awesome!”
“Mitch, I said hush it up. No more talking.”
He sat staring at her, his eyes wide and unblinking. She’d taught him the staring contest as a baby, though neither of them had ever spoken to each other or anyone else of it. He started to grin at her, but then contorted his face so that it all scrunched up to one side and his eyeballs bulged from below two high arching brows.
“But you hate pecans,” he said in a gurgled, nasally voice.
Aire couldn’t help but laugh. He reached down and pulled a single strand of hair from her head.
“Victorious!” he shouted as he leapt off the bed and scrambled out of her room. She stretched and rubbed out the tingle of her head from the strand of dark hair that had been snatched. Over the years she had collected a small ponytail of Mitch’s hair from her winnings that she’d stashed in her night stand. A story for the grandkids, she thought. Might as well let him enjoy one of his few victories.
Instead of going downstairs, she let herself lay down a few minutes more to reflect upon her dream. Gary she could make sense of. Finding out he was exhibiting bizarre behaviors would stress anyone out enough to have a nightmare. She’d been dreaming of the African with the rice grain nearly every night since The Moto, though before he was always a vague, floating figure. She’d seen his lips moving before, but could never make out what he’d said, as though he were far away under water.
The blue lion warning, however, did not make sense, yet even that she could understand as a normal dream oddity. It was Troy that really bothered her. Why would she dream something so terrible about him? They’d had the most wonderful time together over the last few days, so why the terror now?
Sunday had been beautiful. He’d taken her to The Restaurant for the rare treat of a lamb dinner. Afterwards they took a walk around the pond at Duck Park and shared their first kiss. Not a peck on the forehead kiss. It had been a real kiss, one in which she’d raised a heel behind her and her lips had gone numb from interlacing with his in a wonderfully warm moment of pure bliss. If she closed her eyes she could still see his green eyes coming towards her, could still feel the softness of his tongue.
The beautiful vision was replaced by the anger in his face, the way he’d curled his lip and swung that bat at her made shivers bolt through her muscles. She had to get up and do something to distract herself. This morning she would not be permitted the small luxury of a romantic memory. The nightmare had been too great.
***
During history class she couldn’t help but stare at Gary. From the corner of her eye she searched for signs that he was crazy, searched for any madnes
s like she’d seen in her dream. Halfway through the hour, the truth revealed itself.
He’d been listening with intense concentration, vigorously writing down what mrs. Finch had been saying on the extinct tribes of Easter Island when it happened. His hand had suddenly stopped moving and his eyes held the blankness she had seen in her dream. He turned his head, a contorted sneer forming across his mouth. He froze in that unnatural position for almost a full minute before his body convulsed in a quick jerk, and he returned to his copious note taking, as though nothing at all had happened.
She turned her head away to gaze down at her own paper where the sweat from her palms had smeared the ink in her notebook. What could it mean? She’d found nothing in her hours of research in the library about the little rice grain or strange behaviors related to concussions. Absolutely nothing in the countless books of biochemistry, neurology, and strange medical ailments explained the events. There was no one in John’s Town who could help her, nothing she could do on her own. She couldn’t even confide in Doc on this one. There was something within her that warned not to show anyone the thing she’d picked from Troy’s helmet. Beware, a dark, sickly feeling in her gut whispered, dangerous to show anyone. She squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to ease the headache beginning to build behind her eyes.
The bell signaling the end of class made her jump. She shut her notebook, and recapped her pen, thankful to get to her next class and away from Gary. Troy’s shoes appeared in her line of vision as she leaned down to cram her notebook into her bag.
“Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to meet up tonight? I’ve still got a few credits left over from last week’s allowance.”
“Um, not tonight,” she said as she forced a smile. The dream of his mad, brutal eyes came flooding back to her with such vehemence she had to look away from him.
“Oh, okay then”
“How about Friday?”
“Sounds great. Pick you up at seven?”
“Perfect.”
He smiled again. “I can’t wait.”
“Me either,” Aire said, the lie tasting thick and bitter on her tongue.
***
The sun peeped into the windows of the stone building, glancing at the young girl in fervent concentration pouring over the pages of universities and scribbling frantic notes as a medium listening to an agitated spirit. She’d needed something to get her mind off Gary and Troy and the African, and had returned to the library in hopes that renewing her quest to get into a university in the States would lift her spirits and help her get some sleep. In the archaic reference section she’d found an old book on Ivy League universities. Histories, geographic locations, architectural structures, and brief mentions of admission guidelines were all contained within. She tugged at her hair in frustration over the new barrier she’d found in her quest for college.
The schools she’d found in these pages were elite. They required outstanding grades, afterschool activities, charity work, and accelerated classes, all of which Aire could proudly put on her resume. However, they also wanted something called an SAT score. Never in her life had she heard of such a thing, and if she’d never heard of it, she was certain no one else had either.
She crossed her arms on the desk and rested her head on them. There were so many roadblocks, so many strange events and unanswered questions she could feel herself coming to a breaking point over the stress of it all. Her shoulders were on the verge of shaking when the librarian laid a gentle hand upon them.
“Almost finished up?”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said, attempting to regain her composure by tidying up her area. Ms. Stillwell, a tiny middle aged woman in a blue sun dress, began helping her load up the books she’d taken out to return them to their places on the shelves.
“Are you doing a history project on American universities?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then why all the research?”
“I’d like to go to college. I’ll be graduating next year and want to make sure I can get into a university as soon as possible.”
“Why? There is no use for such a thing here.”
“It’s just something I need to do. I don’t think I would be happy spending the rest of my life in John’s Town, and college is my best way to get out of here.”
Ms. Stillwell paused, a look of horror contorting her face. “Why on earth would you want to do a thing like that?”
“There’s so much adventure out there. I’d like to be able to make a real difference to all the people in the world, not just those in the town limits.”
“Hmm,” Ms. Stillwell said as she pursed her lips. Together they walked in silence to the towering bookcases and began to replace the texts Aire had taken out. “Well, I don’t agree with you, but I wish you the best of luck all the same.”
“Thank you.”
They’d finished putting the books back, and Ms. Stillwell accompanied Aire to the library’s exit as it was already ten minutes past closing time. Aire turned to the librarian just before reaching the door.
“Ms. Stillwell, do you know what an SAT is?”
“An SAT?” she asked. “What does it pertain to?”
“It’s a test colleges require for admission. I’ve no idea how to go about taking it.”
“Hmm,” she bit her lip. “Maybe ask Dr. Caughlin?”
Aire shook her head. “No, he doesn’t remember anything before he came here.”
“Well, let me see, let me see.” The tiny woman tapped her chin, her delicate eyebrows pinched together in thought. “Try asking the mayor. He’s a very smart man who usually knows about such matters.”
“That’s a good idea, thank you, ma’am.”
“You’re welcome. Be sure to ask for an appointment with his secretary first, though. He’s been out of the office a lot lately running errands around town.”
“Will do.”
“Now hurry up now and get home. You’re late for dinner.”
Aire glanced at her watch, a touch of panic tightening her chest when she realized she was going to be a half an hour late.
“Crud. Have a good night Ms. Stillwell, and thanks again for the suggestion,” she called over her shoulder as she sprinted down Bourbon Street.
Chapter Nineteen
Thursday April 8, 2010
Population: 390
Feet tapping, fingers drumming, Aire wiggled in her chair and willed the clock to hurry to the end of the hour. She vaguely heard her chemistry teacher droning on about ions as she rehearsed her speech to the mayor over and over in her head. Good afternoon, Mayor Jenkins. The reason for my visit today is that I desire to go to college, and upon academic research of the admissions process-.
“Aire, what’s the molar mass of potassium needed to balance the equation?”
Flames danced on her cheeks as she looked to her chemistry teacher with wide eyes. “Sorry, what was the question?”
The teacher glared and raised her nose high in the air. “Anyone else?”
Her head fell in embarrassment. She was going to attempt to take the most important test of her life and she couldn’t answer a simple chemistry question. She sank in her chair and looked around at her silent classmates. Each sat motionless, their eyes preening over their notes. She could almost hear the silent prayer that each muttered in their minds, please don’t call on me. In her scan of the room there sat only one inconsistency, and the movement had been so slight she almost missed it.
Two rows to her left sat Bowie Sandoval. His head was bent over like the others with pen in hand ready to write. It was his eyes that gave him away. They did not move but instead were frozen straight down as though painted onto his sculpted face. His pen gave a slight twitch as his jaw clenched and relaxed almost instantly. His body straightened and froze for a brief second before he raised his hand.
“Eight,” he said, his posture once again that of a normal, attentive student.
“Correct,” their chemistry teacher
smiled.
Now Aire sat the frozen pupil as she stared at Bowie. Just like Gary, her mind whispered, he moved just like Gary. But Bowie had no concussion, no bruises on his cheeks or broken ribs, so why did he spasm like Gary?
Coincidence, her mind whispered back. The body was a strange biomechanical mystery. Perhaps Bowie was just tired and his body jerked to wake him up, just as she sometimes gave a hypnic jerk at night after falling asleep too fast. And of course, maybe she hadn’t seen anything at all. It happened so fast that maybe she had been hallucinating, her mind playing tricks on her with her obsession over Gary’s strange behavior.
The end of the day bell came whomping through the room, triggering her classmates to animation again. Aire put her books into her bag and pushed the thought of Bowie into the back of her mind as she secured the backpack’s zipper. She couldn’t think about him or Gary or anyone else right now. Other matters called her attention, and she would need complete focus to accomplish them.
***
The hands of the clock ticked in a lazy circle around its face on the wall of the City Hall main lobby. Mayor Jenkins had agreed to see her, but she’d have to wait until he finished his other business first. Aire would wait a year if that’s what it took for her to get into college.
Forty-five minutes had gone by. Her mind had grown bored examining the intricately tiled floor and renaissance art that hung from the brown sponged walls, grown bored of naming the various plants and styles of vases that decorated the lobby and main hall of the building. She’d counted twenty three bobby pins in the bleached hair of the secretary, whom she’d recognized as one of the seniors who had graduated at the end of her freshman year. For a brief moment an ooze of horror seeped from her skin at the thought of having the same mindless job behind a desk for the rest of her life. Her mind played out the image of what her life would be like if she couldn’t escape John’s Town in trite, flashing scenes; she’d graduate next year, become the town doctor, get married to Troy and have one kid in a four bedroom house with a white picket fence. She’d have only The Moto to look forward to each year as her hair turned grey and her skin wrinkled until she finally died of old age. She imagined saying something melodramatic with her last breath, something like, what wasted light, for the unknown is forever behind. Aire turned her head away from the girl and her mind away from the thought.
