by Dan Dillard
Chapter 7
I sat up that night, thinking about Sean. Thinking about Matt. I was concerned our worst fears were actually coming true and that I’d explained what a coincidence was to Danny and eased his mind when I shouldn’t have. It would make it that much harder to tell him otherwise when the time came. I couldn’t get Matt on the phone that night, but the next day after school, he showed up at our front door.
“I need to talk to you,” he said.
“Who is it?” Danny shouted from the living room where he was watching TV.
“No one,” I said and ducked outside, closing the door.
Danny didn’t follow. Matt and I walked down and across US 49 and ducked under the fence like we were headed back to that house. We didn’t go any further than the line of trees along the fence, but I got the feeling Matt wanted to keep his eye on The Russian House. He pulled a crumpled pack of Marlboro Reds and a lighter from his pocket and offered me a smoke. It was something we did when no one else was around. Part of our bond.
“Thanks,” I said.
He sparked the lighter and took a drag, bringing the cigarette to orange, glowing life. It was the same plastic lighter with flame decal that Sean had used. I lit my smoke off of his and blew out every bit. I’m not sure I ever really inhaled, but I felt grown up, like smoking somehow made all of my teenage problems real.
Weren’t they?
“What’s up?” I said.
“Sean’s dead,” he said.
I couldn’t move. It wasn’t exactly news because I knew in my heart he was dead, but I hadn’t heard the words and sometimes actually hearing something out loud can be a totally different beast to deal with. My parents hadn’t said anything, so I thought maybe there was a chance for Sean, or maybe it was one of those things parents talked about behind closed doors. Of course, my parents were never a wellspring of any sort of information, especially important information. I stared into the distance over the busted stalks of corn. The Russian House stared back. It looked less menacing in the sunlight than it had when we were right there dousing it with flashlights. Still, I felt like it was watching us…like maybe she was watching us from within.
“Suicide,” he continued. “He took one of my dad’s Ka-Bar knives and shoved it into his own throat.”
“Shit,” I said.
There was no breeze and the air was warm, but gooseflesh bubbled up on my arms. I looked at him and let the cigarette dangle from my lips like I’d seen in the movies. When the smoke started to burn my eyes, I pulled it out and rolled it between my thumb and index finger. Matt sat down in the dirt and hugged his own knees. He took a drag—an actual drag—and looked up at me.
“There was so much blood. So much damned blood. It was everywhere. He didn’t just die. He ran through the house screaming or…gurgling. Doc says he drowned in it.” Matt paused, but I had nothing to fill in the silence. He took another drag before continuing. “It wasn’t the knife that killed him, really. He drowned in his own blood.” Matt stared at me, tears in his pleading eyes. “My mom’s on some serious drugs right now,” he said.
“Shit,” I repeated.
We sat quietly for a long while and I thought about the word. Лезвие. Blade. That wasn’t a baseball bat Sean held in the picture. It was a knife. Robin knew. That ghost had been inside her head—inside her little body—and she knew. Suddenly that cigarette tasted awful and I dropped it and squashed it in the dirt with the heel of my sneaker. Matt smoked his to the filter and then lit another.
“What are we gonna do, Todd?”
“What can we do?” I asked.
My brain said the ghost was killing us. That Nataliya was coming after us and because she had gotten to Robin first, Robin was with her. Now maybe Sean was with her, too. The three of them were coming to get Matt, Danny and me. I didn’t know whether it would be worse to be next…or to be last.
“That damn ghost cursed us all. Sean never woulda killed himself. He never woulda done that. That’s some black magic shit. That’s some kinda evil.”
He started sobbing and I sat next to him, my arm uncomfortably draped around his shoulder. He had lost a brother and I had lost a sister, but we still had each other for the time being. I didn’t tell him about the drawings—especially the drawing of Sean, or about the word. The words sounded crazy in my head, I couldn’t imagine how they would sound out in the wild.
Matt dried himself up and wiped his tears away with the back of his hand. The butt was still burning and I remember being impressed that the smoke didn’t bother his eyes. He seemed tough at that moment, tears and all. I think I smiled at him. I had no idea how to console someone who had just lost his brother even though I knew how he felt. There just were no words.
“Todd,” he said. “Sean is sorry for what happened.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” I said and I meant it.
“It doesn’t matter anymore. Your fault…my fault. Doesn’t matter. What matters is I’m not gonna let that crazy bitch take me out like that. She can’t get into my head and make me do something stupid.”
I nodded.
“We gotta stick together is all. Watch out for one another. You, me and Danny. We gotta stick together.”
We shook on that, thumb to thumb like a blood brother pact, but without cutting ourselves. There had been enough blood. I was his brother after that, and until the day he died, he held up his end of the bargain. I wish I could have done the same.
