by Ike Hamill
“No,” said Billy. He shut the window.
Lynne exhaled and rolled her eyes. She walked up to the house and stopped in front of the window. She banged on the glass, hard enough that it rattled in the frame.
“What?” asked Billy through the closed window. Carol could just barely hear him over the banging. Finally he opened the window again. “What do you want?” he asked.
“Just come out here,” said Lynne. “Talk to us for a minute. What have you got to lose?”
“You’re kidding, right?” asked Billy.
“Just some information. What could happen?” asked Lynne.
“This is some serious shit going on,” said Billy. “All those people?”
“All what people?” asked Carol.
“Who died—all those people who died,” said Billy.
Lynne and Carol looked at each other. Lynne shrugged.
“Oh, come on,” said Billy. “I know it hasn’t gotten any coverage in the mainstream media, but you can’t tell me you haven’t heard about the mass murders in Boston, Cleveland, and Austin?”
“Nope,” said Lynne.
“For Christ’s sake,” said Billy. “We need to have an uprising against the media conglomerate. It’s the best form of mind-control ever invented. Come around back.”
“What?” asked Lynne.
“Go around to the back door,” said Billy.
Carol led the way. The fire pit had been greatly expanded. It now had spiraling arms that took up most of the backyard, encompassing freshly bald lawn. These arcs headed off towards the woods in one direction, but near the house they intersected with concentric circles radiating from the back deck. The women glanced around taking it all in as they made their way to the back deck.
“What do you think it means?” asked Lynne.
“Strikers get lost if there are no corners,” said Carol. “He’s probably trying to protect himself from a sneak attack.”
Lynne’s cat refused to ascend the deck’s stairs. He stopped at the bottom and sat.
“That’s right,” said Billy. He opened the sliding glass door and waved the women inside. “Not just sneak attacks, though. They came right at me last night. Lasted hours. I did a bunch of this stuff this morning. Trying to shore up the place.”
“Who?” asked Carol. “Who’s attacking you?”
“You tell me,” said Billy. “It all started after you and Bud left. That’s not a coincidence.”
“Tell us about the murders,” said Lynne.
“Have a seat,” said Billy. He motioned for them to join him at the kitchen table.
Carol thought about Don as she sat down.
“You’ve been busy,” said Billy. “You bested a Striker. That’s not easy.”
“How do you know that?” asked Lynne.
“My sources tell me,” said Billy.
“The same sources that told you about the mass murders?” asked Carol.
“Yeah, mostly,” said Billy. “Look, everyone knows about those. I can’t believe you guys don’t know anything about it. Something has been moving all around the country, killing at will. Nobody knows how it works. One minute a group of people are just fine. The next second, they all just fall flat. You remember a while back, more than a year ago, how all those people just died in that dog park?”
“Not just people,” said Carol. “We sent a reporter down there. I heard about what happened—it wasn’t just people that died.”
“That’s right,” said Billy. “Everything died — the people, the dogs, even birds and squirrels. Nothing bigger than a mouse made it out of that park alive. Police, CDC, FBI, everyone talks to me about that one. They all still think it was a terrorist attack or something.”
“Not CIA?” asked Lynne. “If it’s terrorists, why doesn’t the CIA do something?”
“They probably are, they’re just not talking to me,” said Billy. “Even dead CIA agents don’t give out information.”
“What are the others saying?” asked Lynne.
“Like I said, they think it was terrorists,” said Billy. “But everyone is so busy covering up the other events that nobody has put two-and-two together. Except for on the Internet. There area some people who’ve connected the dots, but everyone just calls them crackpots.”
“Maybe they are,” said Lynne.
“Nope,” said Billy. “Too regular. These group-deaths all occur within a certain amount of time before or after one of Gregory’s appearances. I think whatever is killing people is ether caused by him or it’s something trying to get him and it keeps missing.”
“So why are you worried about it then?” asked Lynne. “Why would it find its way out in the woods in some tiny Maine town.”
“My sources,” said Billy. “I communicate with the dead. My sources can’t tell me what this thing is, it’s too much like death itself, but they do see that it’s connected to the same mess you’re screwing around with. Gregory’s after you in the same way that this thing is after him,” said Billy, pointing to Lynne. “This thing might just figure out that all it has to do is get ahold of you and it can stop trying to hunt Gregory. If this thing captures you, Gregory will come to it.”
“So we’re connected to the thing that’s trying to kill Gregory. I can’t say that would bother me at all. I might even be inclined to help the thing get to Gregory,” said Lynne. “He’s never done me any favors.”
“Gregory might be the only reason you’re still alive right now,” said Billy.
“Explain,” ordered Lynne.
“This whole thing is a balance,” said Billy. “You guys have gotten wrapped up in what appears to be a conspiracy by a group of secondary-world creatures. Nobody ever has any idea what a given Striker is up to. Those things are totally random and unpredictable, but suddenly one seems to be working in concert with a Changeling. You have no clue what a mysterious turn of events that is. The only thing Changelings ever try to do is become a conduit to the secondary. Strikers move back and forth at will, so they’d never need anything like that.”
“So a Changeling is like a portal?” asked Lynne.
“Not exactly,” said Billy. “They would use a portal, of course, but this creature is like a guide to the portal. It would be able to set up a way to move through the worlds.”
“So is that how Don faked his death and then later possessed you?” asked Carol.
“Exactly,” said Billy. “That thing was a Striker all along. It pretended to be human for long enough for you to get impregnated, and then it slipped off back to the secondary. It passed back into this world just after the thing tried to steal my body.”
“It’s pretty incapacitated now,” said Carol.
“Maybe,” said Billy. “You shot it, right?”
“Yeah,” said Carol.
“My sources are talking about that,” said Billy.
“What’s your stake in this?” asked Lynne.
“What do you mean?” asked Billy.
“You’re not telling us anything here. It’s all just meaningless statements strung together. Nothing we could prove; nothing that gives us any indication of what to do. You’re trying to win our confidence by first acting like you don’t want to talk to us and then being forthcoming with all this hollow talk of other worlds and strange creatures. So what’s your game?”
“I just communicate,” said Billy. “You came to me. I didn’t ask to be involved in this stuff. I’m just trying to answer your questions because my contacts on the other side are giving me information to relay to you.”
“Oh, that’s right, your contacts,” said Lynne. “You talk to dead people.”
“Joe says ‘hi’ by the way,” said Billy.
“Very good,” said Lynne. “Pick a common name and then throw it out there. If I react then you press ahead.”
“Who’s Joe?” asked Carol.
“Her deceased uncle,” said Billy.
“Lucky guess,” said Lynne.
“Don’t listen to her,” said Caro
l. “Just tell me more about Don and Donna. She’s been trying to set up portals and now it seems like Don is helping her out. If you’re right, that he’s not really wounded, then they’ll be right back at it. How do I stop her, and what is she trying to accomplish? Also, if Don was trying to get me killed by sending me to the island, then how come he showed us exactly where we’d be able to find Lynne?”
“One at a time,” said Billy.
Carol narrowed here eyes and shot a questioning look to Lynne, who had folded her arms.
“Don is shot in the leg,” said Billy.
“We told you that,” said Lynne.
“But he’s almost completely recovered. Strikers are incredibly resilient that way. I’m being told that he’s got Donna and they’ve fled. We’re not sure exactly where they went. You have a lot of sympathy amongst the spirits. Everyone wants to see you succeed in stopping them, but nobody has any details yet. You need to figure out the connection between yourself, Lindsay, and Gregory. Or perhaps the death that’s trailing behind Gregory. If you can figure out that connection, then you should gain insight into what the Striker and the Changeling are up to.”
“What about the island?” asked Carol. “I’m still confused about Don.”
“I don’t know,” said Billy. “Oh wait, there’s a new voice coming. It’s someone who claims to have knowledge of the situation." He leaned back and closed his eyes.
“What are they saying?” asked Carol. She had scooted to the edge of her chair.
“It’s a man,” said Billy. “He says you’re two corners of the triangle. You’ve got to complete your form, or the world will suffer. He’s adamant.”
“Our form?” asked Carol.
Billy took a deep breath. “He’s gone. They’re all gone.”
Carol exhaled.
“Wait, Joe is still here. Lynne,” he turned his closed eyes towards Lynne. “Bud may have been a weekender, but he wasn’t a holiday."
Billy paused and tilted his head. His eyes came open and his shoulders slumped—“They’re all gone. There’s something coming, you need to get out of here.”
“We can help you,” said Carol.
“They’re not coming for me,” said Billy. “I want you to get away so they won’t come here at all. They’re after you.”
“Oh,” said Carol.
“We can’t get away,” said Lynne. “We took a cab here and we’re not going to flee on foot. If there really are things coming here to get us, we’ll just have to take a stand.”
“No,” said Billy. “You can outrun them. Take my car, it’s in the garage."
He jumped up and grabbed a key ring off a hook next to the door—“These are the keys. It’s right through here.”
Billy opened the door and pointed into his laundry room.
“Where do we go?” asked Carol.
“I don’t know,” said Billy. “Gregory’s supposed to be going to Pittsburgh. Go complete the triangle, like that one spirit suggested.”
“Good enough,” said Lynne. She got up and took the keys from Billy’s hand. “Thanks for this.”
“Pittsburgh?” asked Carol.
“You have any money?” Lynne asked.
“No,” said Billy. “Look, you really need to go now. It’s very quiet—there’s something very unusual coming.”
“We can’t exactly make a great escape without any money,” said Lynne. “I can’t go home and her accounts have probably been emptied by her sister or Donna.”
“Okay, fine,” said Billy. He walked quickly to a cabinet and pulled out a drawer of dry goods. He leaned in close and came up with a roll of bills bound with a tight rubber band. He tossed the roll to Carol and waved them on—“That will get you there, now just get out of here. Go fast.”
“Thanks again,” said Lynne.
“Do you have a business card or a phone number or something?” asked Carol. “What if we have trouble or we need to ask you about one of the things you said?”
“No, just go, go,” said Billy.
“Come on, Carol,” said Lynne.
They followed the driveway through its tight turns and found themselves on the edge of a small clearing. On the far side, across the medium-high grass, the highway ran along the edge of the field. Lynne waited for a lull in the traffic and the pulled across the field and aligned herself properly on the shoulder. She put on her blinker and waited for a gap to pull out.
“I didn’t know what to think about those voices that Billy was talking about. I was dubious last time, but then when he channeled Don, I knew he was legitimate. Then, it turned out that Don was after me the whole time. Now I don’t know what to think,” said Carol.
“It was real,” said Lynne.
“Why do you say that?” asked Carol.
“He said something that only my uncle Joe would have said.”
“What was it? I don’t remember anything in particular,” said Carol.
“He said that Bud was a Weekender, but not a Holiday,” said Lynne. She felt Carol’s eyes questioning her, so she explained further—“A Weekender is a term my family uses for someone who preps or paints at the wrong time. There’s not anything really wrong with their technique, but they’re not paying attention to the environment. That means that what they’re painting might just peel off next year because it has too much humidity under it.”
“Huh,” said Carol.
“And a Holiday is another painter’s term—it’s a mistake, or a flub. Joe was telling me that Jenko did the right thing at the wrong time, but his death wasn’t just a coincidence or an accident. They wanted him dead. I knew that Gregory and his people were dangerous, but Joe’s telling me that these other guys, the Striker and whatever are just as bad.”
“Great,” said Carol. “Hey, get off here.”
“Why?” asked Lynne. “I thought we’d get some distance between us and Billy.”
“Definitely, but let’s get a newspaper or something so we can make sure that we’re on the right path. They’ll have Gregory’s schedule in there.”
Lynne pulled the car towards the exit ramp and then took a left towards a convenience store. She pulled into a parking space and jerked the car to a stop. Her jaw fell open and she gripped the steering wheel with white, strained fingers and stared out her window.
“What’s wrong?” asked Carol. Her hand was on the door handle.
Lynne snapped from her stupor and flailed at the panel mounted to her door. Eventually her hand found the lock button. When the doors clicked shut all at once, Lynne took a breath.
“Look,” said Lynne. She motioned with her eyes. Her hands returned to comfort of the steering wheel.
“What?” asked Carol. “The homeless guy?”
“Shhh,” said Lynne.
“What?” whispered Carol.
“He’s The Passage,” said Lynne.
“What?” asked Carol, out loud.
“Shhh!” said Lynne. “There’s something creepy about him.”
The man was several paces from the car. He shuffled along the little sidewalk at the side of the building. His clothes were the dirty remnants of a suit. His eyes looked straight down. Lynne went rigid as the man approached and passed by the hood. Carol stayed quiet and tried to see what was bothering Lynne. Between them, the cat jumped up from the back seat and stood on the center console. He watched the shuffling man move by.
When the homeless man rounded the corner, Carol spoke—“What is it?”
Lynne was startled by Carol’s voice and didn’t take her eyes from the corner where the man had disappeared — “He was dead. I’m sure of it. But not resurrected, like Gregory. He was like some kind of zombie or something. Walking, but dead.”
“What makes you think so?”
“I can see it,” said Lynne. “That’s my deal. I can see that sort of thing.”
“Do you see it a lot?”
“No,” said Lynne. “Gregory was the only Passage.” She reached out and stroked Domitius as she spoke. “The
only other time I saw Sparkle like that, it was from Domi here.”
“The cat?” asked Carol.
“Yeah,” said Lynne.
“So what does that mean? He’s an immortal?” asked Carol.
“Who, the cat or that guy?”
“Either,” said Carol.
“Oh, I don’t know. But that guy was different somehow. I wonder maybe if he was just dead too long. It was like he was hollow or something. Like remote control or something. He just seemed cold. You didn’t sense any of that?” asked Lynne.
“Looked like a perfectly normal homeless guy to me,” said Carol. “I’m going to go get that newspaper. Do you want anything?" She peeled a twenty dollar bill from Billy’s roll.
“No, I’ll stay with the car,” said Lynne. “Don’t be long.”
Carol fumbled with the door. She had to figure out how to unlock the door so she could get it open. When she got out, Lynne had the door locked again before it even clicked shut. She had no sense of danger and didn’t share Lynne’s fear of the shabby man, but she still approached the corner slowly. She moved around it carefully, curious if the man was waiting for her. He wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
She moved to the back of the store and grabbed some chips and a couple of bottles of water. She added a newspaper to the pile and fished out a crinkled twenty. She smoothed it out for the cashier. He took the bill and proceeded to make change.
“You have a small bag?” asked Carol.
“Yup,” said the clerk.
He bent over to grab the paper bag from under the counter and she had a good view of the security monitor on the counter behind him. The camera was aimed at the gas pumps. It wasn’t close enough to read a license plate, but it gave the clerk a good bird’s eye view of the whole area. What caught Carol’s eye was the shabby homeless man staggering across the asphalt.
Carol turned the scene around in her head so she could figure which direction he was moving. The last time she’d seen him, the homeless guy had been moving towards the intersection, but now she could see the intersection and he was moving away. She spun around to look out the windows. Carol grabbed for the bag and made her way to the door.
