by Ike Hamill
Billy eyes were half-closed and burned with a smokey fire. His fingers clawed at the table.
Carol pushed away from the table, wanting nothing more than to put some distance between herself and this new version of Billy. By the time she got to her feet, Billy’s teeth were bared and he was rising slowly from his chair. Jenko pulled her back by her shirt towards the sliding door. When Billy’s head turned, Carol caught the glint of something in his eyes and realized they were glowing red. She could suddenly imagine what those eyes would be at night: glowing orbs, casting their hellish light on everything Billy looked at. Behind her, Jenko grabbed a glass of water from the counter and splashed some in front of Carol.
Billy hissed. Veins stood out on his forehead and down his arms. Big, pulsing, veins filled with burning strength. Carol stared at Billy’s fingers as Jenko pulled her backwards. Billy’s nails had sharpened into points and Billy wielded them like claws. She remembered his fingers from earlier, when Billy had been carefully drying his hands after trying to get the grease from under the nails. These hands bore no resemblance to her memory of Billy, but they did remind her of something.
The memory teased the edges of her mind as she stumbled back. Jenko got her to the deck and then turned her to the side and pushed her away from the sliding door.
“Come on, keep moving. The water’s not going to slow him down for long,” said Jenko.
Carol tried to obey, but her eyes were drawn back to Billy. There was something so familiar about him, she couldn’t pull her eyes away. Billy was struggling with the puddle of water Jenko had spilled on the kitchen floor. He clearly wanted to cross it so he could come after Jenko and Carol, but something prevented him. When Carol lost sight of his snarling form, Billy was rounding the table in the other direction so he could get to the door without stepping in the spill.
Jenko nearly dragged Carol across the lawn. She watched for Billy and she sighed with gratitude when he appeared on the deck. She needed to see him—it was very important to her, but she didn’t know why.
In the center of the well-groomed lawn Billy had a big fire pit lined with stones. The center was a ashy mess of charcoal. Jenko pulled Carol backwards into the center of the ring. When they stopped, Carol’s fascination with Billy started to fade immediately. She struggled to release herself from Jenko’s grip so she could run farther away from the possessed man.
“Why are we stopped? He’s still coming,” said Carol.
“It’s okay, I think this will stop him,” said Jenko.
“You think?” asked Carol. “Is this really a time for conjecture? Let me go, let’s keep running." She tried to pull away from his grip.
“Listen,” said Jenko, spinning her around so they were face-to-face. “You leave this circle and he’s going to be on you before you even get to the woods. Now just look, would you?”
He spun Carol around again so she could see Billy. He looked weirder than ever—he was hunched over and stalked around the fire pit like walking upright was a trick he hadn’t quite mastered. His skin was red, like a bad sunburn, especially around his eyes where it was almost purple. Billy didn’t speak, but each breath hissed in and out like a curse. He kept his distance—Billy wouldn’t come within ten feet of the stone circle.
“What’s he doing?” asked Carol.
“I think he’s a Striker,” said Jenko. “You can tell by the hands. They hate fire and water, and they can’t cope with circles. They get lost in anything without corners. Billy must have accidentally let him in.”
“But I thought he was Don. Then he seemed to change,” reported Carol.
“Who’s Don?”
“My husband,” said Carol. “Deceased husband,” she clarified. “He was talking to me through Billy while you were outside.”
“That’s incredibly dangerous,” said Jenko. “The Striker must have come through when Billy was open. Why would he take that chance?”
“I don’t know,” said Carol.
“Well we’re going to have to ask Billy when he comes out of this,” said Jenko. “Could be a while though.”
“How long?” asked Carol.
“I don’t know,” said Jenko. “Depends on how strong the Striker is. Longest I’ve seen is just a couple of minutes, but this thing looks way stronger than anything I’ve ever seen. And Billy’s a really powerful medium, too. We’ll just have to wait it out. What did Don want?”
“I don’t know. It’s so hard to believe,” said Carol. “He said something about Donna—that she was working with bad people.”
Billy moved around the rock circle hunched over so far that his hands touched the ground, he seemed to transform further into some unrecognizable creature, but the same familiar feeling started to come back to Carol.
“Wait a second, I think I’m remembering where I’ve seen this thing before,” she said, pointed at Billy. He spat a glob of black goo towards the circle.
“Where’s that?” asked Jenko.
“I can almost picture it,” she said, looking up and away from Billy. “But he didn’t quite look like that. Oh! Oh my god, I remember! He was a dog!”
“Yeah?” asked Jenko.
“Yes, definitely,” she said. “There was a dog at the place where they were making me dig. They had this great big dog, absurdly big, that would patrol around every now and again. I don’t know why I couldn’t remember that before, the resemblance is uncanny. I mean despite the fact that he was a dog before and now he’s your friend Billy.”
“Well he is looking more and more dog-like every second,” said Jenko. “They probably brought him in through a dog before because it’s easier than capturing and coercing a human channel. How long did you see him hanging around?”
“I have no idea,” said Carol. “That whole thing was just a total blur.”
“Do you remember a name?” asked Jenko.
“Maybe,” said Carol. “No. I can’t. It’s just not there.”
The Billy-dog started to stumble and almost fell, but caught himself on hands and knees. When he looked around to spit at Carol and Jenko again, his face was only pink instead of the deep red of before. The Billy-dog growled and pushed back up to hands and feet again. He turned to face them and then tried to drag himself towards the circle. It looked like he was being repelled by an unseen hand.
“What’s he doing?” asked Carol.
“I think he’s getting weaker. He’s trying to use his last strength to get at us.”
“Creepy,” said Carol. She crossed her arms.
The Billy-dog rose at the waist, like a rope pulled at his belt. He fell over to the side and expelled a coughing breath as he hit the ground. His breathing hitched as he convulsed. Finally, with each cough, he jerked backwards, farther away from the circle. Carol thought that he looked like he was being blown away from them by a strong wind, but she didn’t feel any breeze. All the hate and color drained from Billy’s face as the spirit left him.
“Should we help him? It sounds like he’s going to choke,” said Carol.
“No, just leave him. I think he’s going to be okay. It might not be safe yet,” said Jenko.
They waited a few more minutes, watching Billy’s chest slowly rise and fall as he quieted down. Billy sat up and rubbed his forehead with a hand. He looked around and eventually his eyes landed on Jenko and Carol—“Ah, in the circle. Smart.”
“Yeah, figured it would be safest,” said Jenko.
“What was in me?” asked Billy.
“A Striker, I think. Had the claws for it,” said Jenko.
“Oh, take a look,” said Billy. He staggered to his feet and made his way over to Jenko and Carol. As he walked, he pulled his shirt up over his head and turned around so they could look at his bare back. “Any marks?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” said Jenko. He didn’t move outside the circle. “Maybe a little near the shoulders?”
“There should be little round marks if it was a Striker. Maybe they’ve already faded. What did he do?” a
sked Billy.
“Spat a lot,” said Carol.
“That fits, but strange about the marks though. Wait, I’m getting… yeah, they’re telling me it was a Striker. Don’s telling me it was a Striker,” said Billy. “Gone now, back to wherever those things live.”
“Carol had seen this one before, she thinks,” said Jenko.
“Oh yeah?” asked Billy.
“Yes, he was a dog at the warehouse,” said Carol.
“That makes sense too then,” said Billy. “Probably under the employ of the Changeling. Well, look, I’m going to go do my closing stuff. Did you get what you need?”
“Sure,” said Jenko. “Thanks for everything.”
“Don’t mention it,” said Billy. “I still owe you.”
“Let’s call it even,” said Jenko.
“No way, I still owe you,” said Billy. “It was good meeting you, Carol. Good luck with everything." He headed back towards his house, putting his shirt back on and combing through his hair with his fingers. He waved when he got to the house and then closed and locked his sliding door.
“Great guy,” said Jenko. He waved Carol towards the woods and used his cell phone to summon another cab. When he got off the phone, he laid out his plan—“So next we should head over to your office and see if we can figure out what Donna’s been trying to do. Shouldn’t be too hard. However she’s been impersonating you she must have left some clue as to her intentions. All you have to do is poke around and find out what people think you’ve been talking about for the past couple of weeks.”
“I can’t,” said Carol. “I’ve got to go somewhere else.”
“What? Where?” asked Jenko.
“My husband, he asked me to do something,” said Carol. “I’m starting to believe it might be really important.”
“When he was being channeled through Billy? I thought you didn’t believe in that stuff.”
“I believed in that. That had to be my husband. I don’t know about the rest of it,” said Carol.
“What did he tell you to do?” asked Jenko.
“He didn’t say it out loud,” said Carol. “I’m not sure I should either.”
“I understand that you want to be careful, but you’re going to have to tell me eventually,” said Jenko.
“Why?”
“Because you don’t have any money. And unless it’s on the way to Portland, I’m not paying for your ride,” said Jenko.
“I can get money from the bank and then rent a car,” said Carol.
“You have ID? Because good luck on getting money or renting a car without ID,” said Jenko. “Or you can just tell me and I’ll drive you there. I’m not that drunk anymore.”
AT FIRST, CAROL WOULDN’T TELL JENKO where they were going. She guided him one turn at a time. Once they got on Route 1 going north, she couldn’t think of a good reason to keep him in the dark any longer, but she did anyway. She didn’t want to share the secret of where Don had proposed to her even though she was taking Jenko there.
South of Bath, they made their way down one of the narrow peninsulas that constitute Maine’s rocky coast. The roads twist and flow north and south. Each finger of land has its own ecosystem of roads, unconnected except where they join into major towns to the north. Jenko guessed at their destination before they were halfway there. There was only one good destination at the end of the road they were on.
Carol gave him the last few instructions as he was already making the turns.
When they got to the beach in the late afternoon, the park ranger warned them that the park closes at sundown, but took their money anyway. Carol had one more surprise left—they weren’t actually going to the beach, but to an island that one could only walk to when the tide was low.
Jenko consulted with the ranger and then returned to Carol. “She said it won’t be low again until noon tomorrow,” he said. “That means it’ll be low about midnight too, but we’ll have to leave and sneak back in to do that.”
“We can just park out on the road and walk in,” said Carol. “They don’t check that carefully.”
They made their way on a winding path through dune grass and rose bushes. They hunched behind a stand of pines as a lifeguard walked back to the parking lot. Their path followed the river around the corner to the main part of the beach. The sand was warm even though the sun had already crested the dunes. Jenko found a spot against the edge of the grass where some driftwood formed a little barrier.
“Aren’t you going to ask me what’s in the bag?” asked Jenko.
“It’s from the gas station, right?” asked Carol.
“Yeah, but that wasn’t any ordinary gas station." He pulled a long sandwich, aggressively wrapped in plastic and handed it to Carol.
“Does it have meat?” she asked.
“Yeah, why? Is that a problem?” asked Jenko. “You don’t even understand how good these sandwiches are. You might want to try it before turning up your nose.”
“I guess it doesn’t matter. I used to be a vegetarian, but that feels like a different life. A life before I was basically a slave to a two-year-old. What happened to me? My life’s in shambles. This has got to be the lowest depth I’ve reached. I probably have no job, no money, no house.” said Carol.
“Please,” said Jenko. “You’re doing fine. I’ve met a lot of people who were at rock bottom, and you’re not one of them.”
“Holy shit,” said Carol. “This sub is amazing.”
“It’s my grandmother’s recipe,” said Jenko. “The guy who makes them used to live next door to my grandmother. He would cut her lawn and she taught him how to make these subs. He started a business selling them to a few convenience stores along the coast. He makes really good money, but he’s kinda limited in his scope because he makes every sandwich on his own. He doesn’t want anyone else to know the recipe.”
“How hard could it be?” asked Carol. She poked a finger through the contents. “It’s got salami, cheese, tomatoes, a bunch of stuff. Where does it get that flavor?”
“Which one?” asked Jenko.
“I don’t know, it’s hard to describe,” said Carol.
“That’s the secret then, I guess. She never showed me how to make them, just Joel.”
“Huh,” said Carol. “That’s a shame. You could be in business with him. So you grew up around here?”
“Nope,” said Jenko. He finished off his sandwich and cracked open a bottle of soda. “But my grandmother used to live up the coast a bit. You’re from where—Waterville?”
“Oakland,” said Carol. “How’d you know?”
“I’ve got an ear for that kind of thing,” said Jenko.
Carol laughed—“I thought I didn’t have an accent.”
“You don’t have much of one. Pretty common with someone your age. When you were a kid most of the schools around there would have worked really hard to purge the local accents. Everyone was going for non-regional east coast flat. Hardly ever works though; just makes the small differences easier to spot,” said Jenko.
“LIke what?” asked Carol. She took the bottle of water that Jenko offered. After a long pull from the bottle, she wiped her mouth with the back of her forearm.
“You clip the end of your words with the back of your throat. Say ‘cummerbund,’” said Jenko.
“Cummerbund.”
“Hear that on the ‘d’? You choked it off with almost a hum through your nose. Total Waterville,” said Jenko.
“Huh,” said Carol.
“There it is again,” said Jenko. “You almost manage to get an ‘n’ sound in that ‘huh.’”
“You’re making me self conscious.”
“Don’t be. You fit in perfectly with your environment. Nothing to be self conscious about,” said Jenko.
“It’s unnerving to be transparent,” said Carol. “So where are you from anyway.”
“Nowhere,” said Jenko. “I mostly grew up in Washington D.C., but I could be from anywhere.”
“And what does y
our accent say about you?” asked Carol.
“I’m not sure,” said Jenko. “I’m not sure if anyone could pin me down by it. I try to mix it up. Here’s one from the district—‘cool’.”
“Cool?” asked Carol.
“No, you have to stretch it out. Make it sound like you’re saying to different words and splicing them together at the ‘o’.”
“Coo-ool?”
“Close,” said Jenko. “If I think someone’s paying attention, I’ll drop that one in there. It says, I’m from the District, but I’m not trying to hide it. It’s funny, so many people move in and out of that town but so few actually pick up anything of the local accent. I think it sounds plain to most people. You get a lot of TV anchor people and announcers with that non-accent.”
“Fascinating,” said Carol. “Hey, if I drop off, can you wake me up before low tide?” asked Carol.
“I’ll wake you up when it looks like we can get to the island,” said Jenko.
“Excellent,” she said and yawned. Her eyes were closed by the time she leaned back against the sandy dune. The dune provided a protective bubble where the wind didn’t penetrate, and she felt nice and warm.
CAROL BLINKED AT THE SKY. It looked too black. She could see the big path of the milky way and realized she didn’t know how long it had been since she’d seen it last. Even living in Maine, there were too many lights around at night to allow for good stargazing. But here, next to the ocean, they had almost no light pollution to spoil the view. Jenko hadn’t roused her, in fact he was nowhere to be seen. Carol rubbed her arms and stood so she could look over the dune.
Jenko was returning from around the corner. “It’s time,” he said. “Just a small channel of water we can probably wade through if we have to.”
The night was beautiful. The wind had settled down, but every now and again a warm, moist puff of air blew from the shore. The waves crashed on either side of the sandbar that led from the beach to the small island a few hundred yards off the coast. Behind them, the only lights were from a small village up the coast, and off to the left a lighthouse cast a dark pimple of a silhouette in the distance against the horizon. Out of the darkness in front of them, black shapes resolved into running teenagers. One of them held a glowing red spark which smelled of burning leaves. They laughed as the ran past Carol and Jenko, nearly crashing into them on the narrow sandbar.
