by D. F. Noble
Just before Mac disappeared, he took one last look at Dean. The grin was gone on the boy, but something danced in his eyes. It was like catching an animal staring back at you in the dark. Mac didn't look long. He shambled to the phone, and shambled out of their lives.
Dean's mother lost it then. She slapped and clawed and pulled Dean's hair. He let her. He laughed in her face. Cackled like a madman. He was free. He was free, goddammit.
C hapter 6
Archimedes
When Alex was three years old, his mother died in a car wreck. He didn't remember her much, just glimpses; her smell more than what she looked like. He saw her every day, though. Her pictures on the wall, on shelves about the house.
Alex had his dad and aunts and uncles, and up until he had made friends with Jake and Dean, they were his world. He had cousins, sure, but most of them were much older and didn't want to hang out with a kid. Plus, they thought he was a nerd. They used to call him “Urkel” from that old TV show. Alex didn't mind, really. He was a nerd, and he was fine with that. His dad was a nerd too, and Alex loved his dad more than anything on Earth. Robert, his father, had given him his first Spider Man comic, and from there, it snowballed. The comics and stories gave Alex an early love for reading, a sense of justice, and the lust for knowledge.
As he got older, he began reading Conan, then went to the Lord of The Rings, and then on to countless Sci-fi books that now filled the shelves of his father's den. And while his father never went to college, Robert was incredibly smart, and when he had time, he spent it with his son, teaching him everything he knew—everything from working on a car to how to plant a garden. Lots of practical stuff that at first Alex didn't care much for. But his father had a way of talking him into it, those little speeches and bits of wisdom that broke through Alex's hyperactive imagination and planted a seed.
His father worked in a factory as a welder. Alex knew that his father didn't really like his job, but it gave them a decent life, and even though Alex was only thirteen, he had a profound respect and understanding for his dad. His dad who never yelled, never forgot his birthday or Christmas. His dad who was always there; when kid's picked on him, when he struggled with his school work, or when Alex had countless questions that surely would drive another person insane. His dad was a good man, and more than anything, Alex wanted to make his father proud.
That's why Alex excelled in school. That's why he was already a grade ahead and shooting forward to high school, and hopefully college shortly after. Alex didn't quite know what he wanted to do yet—since he wanted to do everything—but he found himself drawn to science, architecture and engineering. He didn't know if a person could do all those things at once, but he sure wanted to try. He dreamed of creating homes that were gardens, trees integrated with computers that ran on wind and solar energy. He dreamed farther, of suits of armor that were indestructible, that could fly and went invisible. Suits that a person could travel space in, stops wars in—like Iron Man, but even better. He dreamed of swords so sharp they could cut through tanks. Alex, in short, was a dreamer.
He always had a hard time getting along with other black kids, though (or even other kids in general). He didn't fit in. Especially since he moved to Hopp's Hollow after his dad's job transferred him to the nearby plant. It wasn't that hard of a move, because he didn't really have friends back in Ohio, but meeting Jake and Dean, that filled a hole in his life he didn't know he had. Jake and Dean didn't treat him like a nerd, didn't treat him like anything but a friend. That might have been because they didn't really have friends either, and they were kind of nerds themselves (well, Jake was more of a nerd than Dean, who liked comics, but not as much as Jake or Alex). Those two had a lot to teach him—mostly about fighting and standing up against bullies. Sometimes Alex felt like they were both absolutely nuts, like they weren't afraid of anything; not pain, not high school kids—nothing. He was amazed at how big they were for their age. They were only a year older than him but were almost the size of most adults. He felt like a mouse himself, and the thought of fighting somebody always scared him. Jake and Dean, they were getting him past that, though.
“Sometimes being big helps,” Jake had told him once out at the tree house when they were showing him to fight and wrestle. “But you can also use that against somebody. Plus, it doesn't matter how big you are, you hit someone in the right spot hard enough, and you can take damn near anybody.”
“Like what spot?” Alex asked.
“Lots of places,” Dean answered. “The throat, cut off their air.”
Dean pointed to his neck, underneath his jaw and ear. “And here, there's a vein and nerves that take blood to your brain. You hit someone good there, and bam, they get all wobbly.”
Dean did an impersonation, making his legs like rubber.
“Even the ear,” Jake said. “That's your balance, too. Doesn't matter how big your muscles are, you can't do pushups with your ears.”
Alex laughed.
“The nose, the nuts, the eyes,” Jake said. “Even if you have to bite 'em.”
“Biting?” Alex asked. “Isn't that fighting dirty, though?”
Dean looked Alex in the eye. “When a bully or some asshole is picking on you, getting ready to beat your ass just because he's bigger than you, and thinks he can get away with it... isn't that fighting dirty?”
Alex thought for a moment. “Yeah, I suppose.”
“When someone goes out of their way to be mean to you, to try and hurt you,” Jake added, “the only thing I want is to make them cry, to hurt them. That way, when everyone sees, sees them on the ground crying like a baby, you know what that does? That takes away their power. That makes other kids realize they don't have to be afraid of them. And it teaches them that they can't be like that to somebody, that there's consequences.”
Dean chuckled. “Sometimes you have to whip 'em a few times, because some guys are just dumb as shit.”
Alex took time to roll their ideas around in his head; even now, as he looked over his birthday presents, he thought about it. Fighting, violence… those things went directly against what his dad believed. His father taught him that there was always another way, and hurting someone wasn't the answer. But Alex's mind shot back to the day Jake had stood up for him on the playground. He couldn't think of any other way that situation would have ended up good for him unless Jake came in and started fighting. How can you talk someone out of violence when they had their mind set on it? How could you stop it, unless you used force yourself?
Alex looked over his presents again. He got the chemistry set he asked for, and the new DS to play games on and browse the internet, and a few manga action figures that his dad had just picked up on his own. When his father asked him what he wanted for his birthday, Alex had told him “not much.” What he really wanted was some extra cash so he could get Jake and Dean something. When he told his dad that, his father looked a bit shocked. At first, Alex thought he was going to say No, it’s your birthday, not theirs, but what he saw instead, etched across his father's face, was a look of awe. He thought his father might tear up a bit, and Alex didn't fully understand why.
He thought his dad had forgotten the conversation, or just written it off, when he saw the pile of presents waiting for him at Uncle Kenny's that morning. It wasn't until the ride home that his father gave him another two envelopes: they read Jake and Dean. “I got them a card, they're kinda funny,” his dad said. “And there's twenty bucks for each of them. Just don't let them expect this on every one of your birthdays!”
Alex hugged him. His dad was the best ever.
He couldn't wait to see his friend's faces.
C hapter 7
The First Day
The sun was high and amber-red. Fields of corn and wheat, they swayed like ripples in water as the wind swept over them. Jake was hypnotized. Standing, holding his bow, the fields before him he imagined as an ocean, tides sipping and retreating at the edge of a beach. And himself, he was an Indian Brave, watchi
ng the white man's ships sailing into shore.
He waited for the school bus to arrive. He was a freshman now, and high school was even more ruthless and full of shitheads than middle school was. The only good thing about it was… he didn't see Chris there. He didn't even really know how old the guy was. He figured he was still in high school, but maybe, Jake thought, he was lucky and Chris had dropped out.
Jake passed the time out in the yard with his bow. Thirty yards out lay a hay bale he used for target practice. There was a swirl, a little circle in the middle that he aimed for. Hitting the bale was not enough. It was that tiny spot he wanted. Jake notched his arrow, drew back till the feather's were right under his eye, just as his father had taught him. He let his breath out slowly, imagining an invisible line that went from the arrow tip to the target like a laser pointer. Jake squinted, focusing, and let it fly.
Thwap!
Jake smiled. His shot was true.
Then the back screen door came open, and his mother Carol stepped onto the back porch with Wes tugging at her dress. “Your dad wants to talk to you,” she said, and offered him the phone like a person offers food to a bear at the zoo— cautiously.
She feared him and Jake knew it. Ever since the day he'd come home and bent her wrist back, she'd given him exactly what he asked for: Distance. They'd barely spoken since that day, and only when it was necessary. She would cry a lot, but her tears might as well have belonged to a crocodile. She was dead to him, and while Jake wasn't heartless, to her she believed he was. She might as well have been an alien, or a stranger in his home. She wasn't his mother anymore, she was the ghost of his mother.
He walked over and took the phone. Her face was troubled, and his heart swelled for a moment. Not for her, but for his father, who was also becoming a ghost. It had been two years since Jake saw him. The war in the Middle East was escalating, and while he knew things like that, they didn't make much sense to Jake. He missed his dad, but found it hard to remember what he looked like. A picture would help, and his occasional call, but Jake wondered often if his dad would ever come back. Would he even be the same? Certainly Jake was not.
“Hey dad.”
“How you doing big guy?”
“I'm good, dad. How are-”
“Listen, Jake,” his dad said, interrupting him. His voice wavered, and his dad sounded stressed, almost as if he'd been crying. “I don't have much time to talk, okay? I just wanted to tell you...tell you that... that you need to take care of your mom and lil' brother, okay? You're gonna have to be the man of the house for awhile.”
“I don't-,” Jake said, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Everything I taught you,” his dad went on. “Remember it? How to hunt? How to skin an animal? Remember, Jake. You…you take care of them, son.”
“I don't understand, Dad, you're-”
“Jake,” his father said, and now it did sound like he was crying. “I gotta go, okay?”
“Um?”
“And Jake?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you, big guy.”
“I love you too, Dad.” And then there was a click, and silence. “Hello? Dad?” That was it, the call was over. Jake looked at the phone, thought, What the hell was that about? He walked inside and put the phone back on the charger. His mother was chasing Wes around the kitchen table and Wes was giggling. He was finally starting to walk and talk now, though it was just a few words and mostly nonsense.
“Dad sounded weird,” Jake said. “Is everything okay?”
That was the most he'd spoken to her in three months, and her face showed exactly how surprised she was. Carol picked up Wes, who immediately started sticking his fingers in her face, and said, “I don't know, Jake. He's worried about something, but-” she pulled Wes's fingers from her lips. “He can't tell us. You know, classified. You know how that goes.”
“Is he coming back soon?”
“I don't know that either, Jake.”
Well, a lot of help you are, Jake thought.
Outside, the bus pulled up. Jake spared one last glance at his mother and Wes, then grabbed his backpack.
***
“Do you always stare at people?”
“Huh?” Jake mumbled. He came to on the bus. Sitting across from him was a girl. He knew her. Steffi. She was almost albino. Her hair was a silvery white in the sun. She was thin. High cheekbones, blue-gray eyes with thin lips. Jake thought she was beautiful, like some Nordic Viking princess, but… he couldn't seem to talk. Dumbass, he thought.
“You've been staring at me...like forever.”
“I wasn't,” Jake said. “I was- I was daydreaming.”
She grinned. “Daydreaming? About me?”
“What? No. I was-” How do I tell her I was thinking about what my dad said, and dreaming about being an Indian riding a giant crow, shooting arrows from a lightning bow? I don't think there's a way out of this where I don't sound like a weirdo.
Something in her face told Jake she was busting his balls, and now that she had caught him off guard, she wouldn't let up. Fighting a dude, Jake thought, that's one thing. A pretty girl? Fuck, I'm nervous. Relax. Relax.
“Oh, so I'm not good enough to daydream about? I get it.”
“Wait,” Jake said, feeling his face warm up. He was blushing. Goddammit. “Shit. I didn't say you weren't good enough. I'm just…out of it.”
“I can tell,” she said, smiling. She reminded Jake of a cat; and he's the mouse she was toying with.
“Ugh,” Jake groaned, and turned away to his window. Way to go, Romeo.
Jake felt the seat depress beside him. He turned to find Steffi sitting there. Across the aisle, two guys—Bob and Greg—gave him the thumbs up and big cheesy smiles. What the fuck, Jake thought. This is where I look like an idiot. Yep. Here it comes.
“So you can beat people up, but you can't talk to a girl? I thought you were a bad boy.”
She's trying to push my buttons. I'm not stupid, I just don't know how to talk to girls. So she thinks I'm a bad boy. Okay, fine. Just be cool. Act like you don't give a shit. That's what bad boys do, right? Right?!?
“You believe everything you hear?” Jake asked. Good. Question with a question. Fight fire with fire.
“Nope,” she says. “Everyone thinks you're crazy. You and Dean both. If I believed that, I wouldn't be sitting here.”
Goddammit. What does she want from me? What the fuck is happening? “Then why are you sitting here?” Jake asked.
“Cuz you were staring at me.”
“I told you I was daydreaming.”
“Right,” she said and smiled. She tucked a rogue strand of hair behind her ear. She's beautiful, Jake thought. “So are you too bad to tell me what you were dreaming about?”
Fuck this. I'm not a punk.
Jake leaned in close, whispered in her ear. “You don't know me, so fuck off.”
Her head snapped back towards Jake. For a brief moment, just a fraction of a second, her nose touched his. Her lips, just millimeters away, brushed his. Jake's eyes went wide, as did Steffi's, and for that fraction of a moment, that tiny sliver of a second, they looked directly into each other.
“I was trying to be nice, Jake,” Steffi whispered, her eyes turning to slits. “You don't have to be an asshole.”
“Yes I do,” Jake said. He wasn't afraid anymore. He felt possessed. All he wanted, more than anything, was to kiss her just then. In front of everyone, just take her. Who cared if the world saw? Fuck the world. His mind fluttered through fantasies, a million in a microsecond. Then he thought of Chris. Chris, and Ronnie, and murder, and blood on his hands, the taste of it and he saw her screaming at him, realizing he was a monster, an animal.
“I don't want to hurt you,” Jake said.
She squinted at him and returned to her seat and looked out her own window.
Good, Jake thought. That should do it.
***
Lunch time. Jake and Alex found a corner to eat. Alex always found
Jake to be paranoid, always choosing to have a wall at his back so no one could sneak up on him. It was like Jake was in prison or something, but knowing the guy and what he'd been through, Alex couldn't really blame him. Alex had bigger things on his mind. His dad had woke him up last night when he got home from the factory and made him go sit and listen to an AM radio station.
SETI had found a signal. A steady signal. His dad was excited, and it took Alex a second to figure it out, but when he did, he found himself just as excited as his dad, like they were two kids waiting to open their Christmas presents. Alex knew that SETI monitored radio waves from outer space. They'd been searching for the presence of extraterrestrial life, and now... now, perhaps it looked like they had finally found it. There was a signal, that's all they could tell at the moment. They were busily trying to decode it. It was exciting. This could mean proof. Proof there were aliens.
Alex had barely slept. School was a haze, but he chomped through his lunch and explained the news to Jake, who seemed to be anywhere but in himself.
“Dude!” Alex said. “Are you listening!? Aliens, man! We might have found aliens!”
Jake chewed his sandwich, swallowed and took a drink of milk. “Sorry,” Jake said. “I'm out of it, man. Been a weird day.”
“How could your day be any fucking weirder than motherfucking aliens!?”
Jake shrugged. “It's just a signal, it's probably nothing. I don't know. Got a weird call from my dad this morning.”
“Oh,” Alex said. Alex knew Jake's dad was in the Middle East. Jake hadn't seen him in forever, and he knew that had to be hard on his friend. Alex had his dad to go home to everyday, but Alex had lost his mom, and even though it had been some time since he felt that pang of loss, Alex understood it.
