Fook

by Brian Drinkwater

  “Please don’t get all squeamish around me now,” Sarah instantly acknowledged the growing level of awkwardness in the car, eager to stop it from spreading any further. “Whenever you tell someone that your mother died of cancer they get all quiet and uncomfortable around you. It’s life. It happens. She’d want me to move on and make the most of my life,” she asserted.

  He wasn’t sure if she really believed what she was saying or if the rehearsed speech was simply a defense mechanism left unchallenged for all these years. With larger problems at the moment however, he chose not to push the issue.

  “Where are we going anyway?” Sarah questioned, apparently also interested in a change of subject.

  “Jason’s house, or the house he grew up in at least,” Derek answered.

  “Why?"

  “Maybe we can talk to someone about Jason.”

  “Didn’t you say he was just born last week?” Sarah asked, aware of how strange that statement sounded, given that she’d just witnessed the apparent newborn kill a woman in cold blood the night before.

  “What are his parents going to tell us?”

  “Not his parents. Jason was born in Tampa. His parents were killed in a car accident when he was about three months old.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “His grandmother raised him after that. Jason said something about his grandmother and what she told him before she died. Something about the men in their family. I’m assuming it has to do with the time travel thing.”

  “You really think she’s going to just come out and admit to a total stranger that the men in her family have the ability to bend time?”

  “I grew up my whole life around Jason and his grandmother. She likes me.”

  “Not yet. You haven’t even been born yet,” Sarah pointed out.

  “Shit,” Derek thought. Now even he was getting confused. “Anyway, we need to do something. We need to figure out a way to stop Jason.”

  “Yeah, we need to tell my dad and sister the truth, so when he shows up we can be ready.”

  “Not yet. We have time.”

  “No, he has time. He has all the time in the world to plot out how he’s going to kill my little sister and niece. We don’t have time because we don’t know when it’s going to happen.”

  “Not true. Remember what he said last night?”

  Sarah looked over at him with no idea what he was talking about.

  “See you at the dance, he said,” Derek repeated Jason’s departing words. “It’s the end of the school year. I can only assume he meant the prom. Since your sister is currently in school and not at a dance I can only assume that she’s perfectly safe. Did she mention anything to you about going to the prom?”

  “Yeah, some boy she knows asked her out the other day for something like the third or fourth time. She finally said yes and actually seems pretty excited about it.”

  “When is it?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” That was a bit sooner than he’d expected. He thought they’d have at least a week to work out a plan. Now they only had a little more than twenty-four hours.

  “I say we tell my father and we all get the hell out of here,” Sarah reasserted her opposition to Derek’s current plan.

  “And go where? Where can we go that Jason can’t find us? Sure we could drop off the grid. We could abandon all credit cards, change our names, spend our entire lives ensuring that no photos are ever taken and that nothing exists that could give Jason, who has access to over two decades of information on the internet, even the slightest clue to where we are.”

  “What’s the internet?”

  “It doesn’t matter right now. What does matter is that we understand that there is no running. Jason holds all the cards right now. We just need to figure out a way to stack the deck in our favor.”

  Sarah didn’t respond.

  He could tell she was upset and didn’t fully understand what he was talking about. Though only a little over twenty years separated their lives, her world was a far different place than his. How could he explain social media and the vast database of information that modern technology had made accessible to anyone with interest and time. Instead he chose to just comfort her.

  “Look. I know that you’re worried about your sister and I promise you, if we can’t figure out some way to stop him before tomorrow night, we’ll tell your father and get your sister as far away from here as possible.”

  He could see a tear welling up in the corner of her eye as she continued to silently stare at the road ahead.

  “Sarah.”

  Glancing over at him.

  “I’m not going to let anything happen. I promise.”

  A tear rolled down her cheek as she offered a hesitant smile before turning her attention back to the road.

  He knew there was nothing he could say to make her feel any better, so he offered up a direction instead. “Turn right up here.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  “I thought she wasn’t coming home until next week,” Latisha leaned against the locker beside Katie’s.

  “Excuse me,” a voice arose to her back.

  “She was, but for some reason she came home early and she brought home some boy with her,” Katie continued sharing the morning’s events as she proceeded to swap the books from her backpack for those in her locker.

  “A boy?”

  “Excuse me,” the whisper of a voice spoke up again.

  “Yeah. I mean I know we haven’t really talked since…” looking down at her own stomach, “…but she and my dad talk at least a couple of times a week and I don’t recall him mentioning anything about a boyfriend.”

  “The only time I remember seeing her with a boy was that one time three or four years ago…at that party…you know…the one that your family and neighbors used to throw every year where your father cooked a whole pig and then tossed its head around the backyard like it was a shot put.”

  Katie nodded.

  “Must be a white people thing,” Latisha added under her breath.

  Ignoring the judgmental remark, though she fully agreed with her friend’s disgusted opinion, “That was the last block party before my mother became too ill, and that was our cousin that she was with,” Katie added quickly, trying to avoid letting the whole sick mother thing intrude into yet another light hearted conversation.

  “Pig head tossing, cousin dating…remind me again why we’re friends.”

  “Excuse me.”

  “Excuse me!” Latisha turned around, obviously having heard the quietly intruding voice, and to that point having chosen to ignore it. “May I help you?”

  The shocked girl stared up at the intimidating volleyball player and unable to form the words, simply pointed at the locker against which Latisha was currently leaning.

  Realizing what the freshman girl wanted, Latisha quickly dialed back the attitude and hopped away from the locker. “Sorry.”

  “She wasn’t dating our cousin,” Katie explained.

  “Huh,” Latisha took up her previous stance on the other side of Katie’s locker.

  “Our cousin, she wasn’t dating him. He was simply at the party.”

  “If you say so, but I definitely got the cousin banging vibe from those two.”

  Contemplating Latisha’s implications, Katie quickly shook off the idea. “She was always too into her school work to have a social life. You don’t graduate salutatorian and earn a free ride to college by sleeping around.”

  “Depends who you’re sleeping with,” Latisha grinned.

  “Nice. I’m not even going to go there, though that would explain why you have a higher GPA than me.”

  “Hey,” Latisha lightly punched Katie’s shoulder.

  “Striking a pregnant girl. It’s a sad day indeed,” Mark stepped from the flow of students, squeezing in next to Latisha.

  Latisha just looked him up and down, shocked by his suddenly social demeanor. Since Katie had agreed to go out with him, even his
posture and walk had appeared more confident. “What social cocoon did you just hatch from?”

  “What?” Mark turned to Latisha.

  “Never mind,” she replied looking back at Katie who had one hand on her stomach as she grimaced in pain.

  “I didn’t hit you that hard.”

  “Are you okay?” Mark instantly moved closer, placing his hand on Katie’s arm.

  “Yeah, I think so,” Katie groaned as the pain subsided, allowing her to return to an upright posture.

  “What was that?” Latisha tried to get closer, not sure how she felt about Mark’s suddenly protective intrusion into their friendship.

  “I don’ know. Just a strange pain I guess. Probably nothing to—“

  Before she could complete another sentence, the pain returned, this time dropping her to her knees.

  “Katie!” both Mark and Latisha cried as they each took an arm.

  Realizing that something was obviously wrong, “I’m gonna get the nurse,” Mark assured her as he pushed passed the few shocked onlookers and took off down the hall.

  FORTY

  “What are you going to say?” Sarah stopped Derek as he reached for the doorbell.

  “I don’t know. I’ll think of something,” Derek assured her as he pushed the button.

  He really didn’t know what he was going to say. He wasn’t even sure who might answer the door. He and Jason hadn’t met until kindergarten so he couldn’t even be sure that Jason’s relatives lived in the familiar house yet. All he knew was that the house seemed a lot smaller and less intimidating than it had back then. An old, two story Victorian near the edge of town, he remembered being terrified of it the first time he’d gone over to play. Though the house bore a welcoming white exterior, it was clear that it hadn’t been maintained for decades and in numerous areas, its cedar shingle exterior appeared to be trying to free itself of its dried and brittle skin.

  All of the windows bore heavy, dark drapes and the glass insert in the door was handmade with bubbles and imperfections that blocked and distorted any light that attempted to pass through it, though a change in light and a dark mass told them that someone was standing on the other side.

  A soft click and a moment later, the door slowly began its inward swing.

  Derek could sense Sarah’s uneasiness as she seemed to lean away from the opening door, probably feeling the same thing he’d felt so many years earlier.

  “Can I help you?” an elderly Chinese man finally greeted them as he slowly shuffled around the open door and into view.

  “Hi, my name is Derek and this Sarah. We were wondering if anyone with the last name Fook lives here.”

  “Yes!” the man seemed instantly excited, though Derek couldn’t figure out why.

  “Is, Ushi Fook here,” Derek continued hopeful.”

  “Yes! Come on in,” the man responded with the same sudden excitement.

  “See,” Derek turned to Sarah as they accepted the invite and entered the house, avoiding the old man as he shuffled out of the way and started the process of re-closing the door.

  With a thud, the large wood door retook its position within the ornate frame as the man latched the deadbolt and turned. “Oh, hi there,” he seemed shocked by his visitor’s presence.

  “Hi,” Derek nodded with a look of confusion.

  “Can I help you?” the old man restarted the brief exchange.

  “Ushi Fook? You said she was here?” Derek questioned.

  “Ah yes! My baby sister. I think she’s out with mother. She should be back any minute. Please come in,” he waved them toward an adjacent room as he grabbed the walker he’d left beside the door and began the slow journey toward the den.

  “I don’t think he’s going to be much help,” Sarah whispered into Derek’s ear as they followed the old man.

  “I never met him, or at least I don’t remember him. I guess I can see why,” he remarked at the old man’s advanced age and apparent senility.

  “Oh heavens! Mr. Fook, what are you doing?” a female voice suddenly called out from across the hall.

  Derek and Sarah turned to see a woman in her thirties carrying a dishtowel in one hand and a fork in the other.

  “What have I told you about the front door?” the woman added, bypassing their guests as she took hold of the elderly man’s arm and attempted to lead him to a nearby chair.

  “I’ve got it,” the jolly man instantly became hostile, obviously not fond of being helped to perform such trivial tasks.

  Once the woman had Mr. Fook in the chair, she finally turned to acknowledge Derek and Sarah who remained frozen just inside the living room, unsure of where to go or what to say.

  “May I help you?”

  “…Yes,” Derek hesitated.

  “You’ll have to forgive Mr. Fook,” the woman, sensing Derek’s hesitance, smiled. “He’s a stubborn old coot,” she added, issuing the old man the same pleasant grin.

  Mr. Fook seemed happy as he sat in the chair, oblivious to the guests in his house.

  “So what can I do for you?”

  “We were hoping to speak with Ushi Fook,” Derek told the housekeeper, or nurse or…whatever she was.

  “Ushi Fook doesn’t live here,” the woman answered, this time it being her turn to be confused. “Oh, did he? Mr. Fook.”

  “Mr. Fook grinned.”

  “I’m sorry about that. He’s not supposed to answer the door. Last time he did I found him out in the street trying to play kick the can in the middle of a kids street hockey game. Did he tell you that his sister was home?”

  “He said she would be home momentarily,” Sarah chimed.

  “I’m sorry about that. Ushi Fook lives in Tampa, Florida. Is there something that I can help you with?”

  “We were just hoping to ask a few questions about this house for a report we’re doing in school about New England architecture,” Derek lied. “This being one of the oldest houses in town, we thought it would be perfect.”

  “That sounds interesting. You can try to talk with Mr. Fook. He’s lived in this house his entire life. I’m sure he’s got lots of interesting things he could tell you if you can keep him on track long enough.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Derek asked, realizing instantly that it wasn’t any of his business and that he probably shouldn’t have prodded.

  “Alzheimer’s,” Sarah answered before the nurse could.

  “That’s right. How’d you know that?” the woman seemed impressed and a bit skeptical now.

  “My grandmother has it. She doesn’t even know who I am most of the time.”

  Derek looked at Sarah, unable to help but to feel bad for her. A mother with cancer and now a sick grandmother. What was next, an ill family dog?

  “I’m sorry to hear that dear,” the nurse responded with sympathy. “Well, Mr. Fook isn’t quite that bad. He still knows who everyone is. He just has a hard time with the ‘when’ sometimes but that might be okay seeing as you’ve got questions about his past. He’s good with stuff like that. Can I get you two anything to drink?”

  “No thank you, I’m good,” Sarah replied.

  “No thank you,” Derek added.

  “Okay then.” Turning to Mr. Fook. “These fine young students would like to ask you a few question about your beautiful house,” the woman spoke very deliberately.

  “My house?” Mr. Fook responded with a smile.

  “Yes. Your house. I’m going to go finish the dishes. I’ll be back with your pills in a few minutes, okay?”

  “It’s a sturdy house,” he spoke, ignoring the woman.

  “There you go,” she turned to Derek. Looks like he’s raring to go. Just better make it quick. There's no telling when he might get sidetracked.”

  With that, the nurse left the room.

  Exchanging looks, Derek and Sarah took a seat on the couch opposite Mr. Fook.

  Uncomfortable, Derek waved. “Hello Mr. Fook.”

  Mr. Fook just smiled.

  Looking
toward the doorway, through which the nurse had exited, and speaking in a hushed tone, “Mr. Fook, we have a few things to ask you about your family.”

  Mr. Fook continued to smile, which Derek took as a sign to proceed.

  “Do you know the name Jason Fook? I believe he’d be your great nephew. He was just born about a week ago in Florida.”

  “Florida,” Mr. Fook repeated. “My sister and I went to Florida once with our parents. Beautiful beaches. Ushi always did love beaches.”

  “Where is your sister now?” Sarah jumped in.

  “Florida.”

  “Your sister lives in Florida?” Derek attempted to get clarification that they’d moved past the previous question.

  Mr. Fook nodded in the affirmative. “She writes. Her and Ty.”

  “Have they written anything to you about Jason?” Derek probed.

  “He’ll be home soon.”

  Confused, they exchanged looks, assuming that the old man’s mind was straying from the conversation.

  “Who will be home soon?” Derek asked.

  “Jason.”

  “Are Jason’s parents planning a trip to come visit? That would be nice,” Sarah guessed at the meaning behind the statement.

  “No. Nesbits have him,” Mr. Fook huffed.

  “What’s a Nesbit?”

  “Nesbits took him home. Called him Oliver. Ty’s going to get him back,” he assured them as he pointed toward a desk against the wall.

  “What’s he talking about?” Sarah whispered in Derek’s ear. Who’s Oliver?”

  “I don’t know,” Derek spoke as he stood, looking back at the doorway as he made his way to the desk.

  “Who’s Oliver?” Sarah continued the questioning.

  “Do you like pie?” Mr. Fook abruptly changed the subject.

  “I do like pie,” Sarah played along, glancing over at Derek who was rooting around through the papers on the desk.

  “My mother makes the best apple pie. Maybe she will make some for us when she gets home.”

  “That sounds great,” Sarah agreed, unsure where else to go with such a scattered conversation.

  “I think I have something,” Derek mumbled from the desk.