by Chris Raven
“You’re not going to shoot me either. You won’t risk the boy’s life. I know you, you little vixen.”
The sound of the detonation surprises us all. A small black circle appears on Dunning’s forehead and, after a time that seems eternal, his eyes are clouded and a small thread of blood starts flowing out of that hole and slipping down his face. The knife falls to the ground and clatters on the gravel. Dunning’s body follows after it. I hear Brad’s race going to hug his mother and grandmother, but none of that matters to me. I run into Dunning’s body, praying to keep him alive.
I kneel beside him, I put an ear next to his mouth to try to perceive his breath, I place two fingers on his neck to find his pulse. There’s nothing. I can’t believe that something as small as that black circle that adorns his forehead has been able to destroy him. I try to make him come back screaming, crying and leaning on his chest, shaking him hard, but nothing happens. The certainty of his death is opening up in my mind little by little. I feel so desperate that I can only scream and scream to try to expel all of that grief.
I don’t know how long I scream and cry. I notice some hands in my arms, that lift me off the ground and separate me from his body. They are a couple of men I don’t know. It takes a few seconds to distinguish their uniforms. They are cops, probably Dunning’s buddies. I look around and see a couple of ambulances, police cars... The lights dazzle me and leave me even more confused. Someone guides me to an ambulance, while I scream and protest and resist, trying to get back to his side. I have to stay and find out if they can save him. I’m sure they can still do something.
I lie on a gurney and, while a man keeps me pinned down, another one pricks something on my arm. Although I try to keep fighting and ask them to let me come back, it only takes me a few seconds to plunge into the blackness.
I wake up by the contact of a hand stroking my hair. Before I open my eyes, I guess it will be my mother, worried about me, but when I finally get to focus the view, I can see Eloise. Even though she smiles to see me waken up, her eyes are flooded in tears.
“Dunning is...? I ask while I try to get out of bed.
“Yes, he is dead,” she replies in a trembling voice.
We don’t say anything else. I also cry, with my eyes stuck on the roof of this hospital room, trying not to think, not to let that truth open up in my mind and stay installed inside forever. There is no point in denying it, nor praying for madness and forgetting everything. Whatever I do, Dunning will still be dead.
As tears clear my anguish, my mind goes back to work. There are many things I do not understand, and I think Eloise has the answer to my doubts. I turn to her and, though I don’t want to hurt her anymore, I dare ask:
“All this is meaningless. Why did he take off his amulet and break the protection? Why did you have his gun?”
She doesn’t answer, but she nods to my words. She squeezes my arm with affection and then, making a great effort, gets up from the chair and limps towards the entrance of the room. She’s got an ostentatious bandage covering her right ankle. At first, I think she’s going to leave without giving me explanations, but then I see her bending over her purse, which she had left abandoned by the door, and stirring inside of it. She limps back with a folded paper in her hand. I take it, and before I unfold it, I look at her, waiting for some explanation.
“It’s a letter from Dunning. He wrote it for you.”
I feel that my hands tremble again, so much so, that I can hardly unfold the paper without tearing it. I breathe a couple of times to control myself and stop the tears that threaten to re-emerge. When I feel a bit calmer, I begin to read:
Hello, kid:
I know it sounds a lot like a movie, but, if you’re reading this letter, it means I’m dead (which is a real bitch) and you’re alive (which I’m glad for).
I will not be able to know how this ended, but I hope that the plan that we plotted has worked and that you have been able to stop that bastard once and for all, and forever. Yes, I know you probably don’t understand anything that has happened, but you should know we had it all planned out. While you were at your father’s funeral, Eloise and I were talking. Although she looks like a very hard old hag, capable to face the demon himself and have his guts for supper, she ended up recognizing that she was not sure that she could beat that fucking spirit. Even though we would free the kids and make him weak, that son of a bitch was really hard. She had never faced anything like that and she was not sure that her prayers and spells would work.
That’s why we thought up an alternative plan. The only way to get rid of a vengeful spirit is to burn its body, but we have no idea where it can be right now. Most likely the fish ate it centuries ago, so the only way to perform the ritual was to provide him a new body. While you were gone, Eloise cast a spell on me that would draw the spirit of Tekarihoga into my body and tie it to me forever. Now, all you have to do is burn me with that bug inside and it’ll all be over. Luckily for you, I’ve been telling my wife for years that I wanted to be cremated. Besides, I’ve left another letter in which I ask my men to get the funeral attendant to let you spend five minutes before they burn me, so you can do whatever you need. I think Eloise plans to cover me with salt before they put me in the oven, like if I were a sea bream.
I know you’ll probably be mad at me and Eloise for preparing all this without consulting you, but we knew you wouldn’t agree. I know you and, even though sometimes you’ve driven me up the wall, you’re a good kid. Don’t be angry at us. We did what we had to do, and the price has not been so high. I never mentioned anything to you, because it’s not something I like to talk about, but I have a stage four lung cancer. In case you are not familiar with the medical jargon, that means I was going to kick the bucket anyway within three to six months, part of which I would spend drugged or with terrible pains, throwing the lungs in pieces by the mouth. Honestly, I don’t feel like a shit dying like that. I would rather die trying to save others, doing the same thing to what I have devoted my whole life. I just hope you can stop that bug before it hurts someone, and that my wife and kids don’t have to pay for this decision.
Well, I say goodbye now. It won’t take long for you to come back and I don’t want you to find me writing this. It’s been a pleasure meeting you and fighting along with you. If Eloise, the witch, is right, I’ll see you on the other side.
A hug,
Dick
XV
Dunning’s funeral is taking place in the building across the street. Eloise accompanies me. We are sitting in a cafeteria, next to the windows, observing the huge number of people who have come to the small funeral parlor. I’d love to be there and say a few words in his honor. Although we met for a short time, I think I know more about him than most of the attendees know. I know that, even in his last moments, he was a hero who sacrificed himself for all of them, who was surely the bravest and most loyal man ever to have lived in Swanton. Knowing that they are saying goodbye to him as a guy who in his last moments lost his head, burned me in the bowels. Although no one will dare to talk about it at the funeral, everyone will be wondering what happened, why he behaved that way... I could cross the street and solve their doubts, I could explain what happened and clear his name, but no one would believe me and, although I did not do anything wrong, I am the son of the woman who blew his head. I don’t think they’d receive me with open arms.
After half an hour, we see people starting to come out. Many hugs, many kisses on the cheeks, many condolences, but in the end, they all go away. The last to get into their car is a woman in her fifties and two boys in their twenties, Dunning’s wife and children. I think again that perhaps I should go through those few steps and give them an explanation. I even lifted my ass off the seat, but Eloise grabs me by the forearm and denies with her head.
“They’re not going to believe you, Eric. Right now, what you want to tell them is not going to do them any good. Let them weep and that their wounds close. If at any time I consider that they
are prepared, I will tell them myself.”
I nod and duck my head. I get entertained by spinning the spoon in my empty cup of coffee and hunting the sugar that has been deposited in the background until I see two policemen leave the funeral parlor and head towards us. We got up and went out to meet him.
“Eric Armstrong and Eloise Carter, right?”Asks the eldest of the two. When we nod, he starts walking back to the funeral parlor. “Everything’s ready. You can’t imagine how hard it has been for us to convince the attendant to allow you to get in for a while before the cremation. He says it’s totally irregular and he doesn’t find any sense in it.”
“There’s nothing to discuss,” Eloise interrupts him. “Dunning left it written as his last will and you are here as law enforcement to ensure that it is fulfilled.”
The two policemen nod, although I get the impression that they were also expecting an explanation. As we entered the funeral parlor, a man with white hair with a double chin and round glasses cuts our way.
“Good afternoon.” He extends his hand to Eloise, but she pretends not to have noticed. “As I have told the agents, this situation is very irregular. I would like to be present...”
“No, that’s impossible,” Eloise stops him, looking at his outstretched hand with the same contempt she looks at a dead bug. “If you do not allow us to enter, we will denounce you for limiting the deceased’s religious freedom. We have to perform a series of rituals to guarantee his eternal rest.”
“But, wasn’t Mr. Dunning a Methodist?” The man asks, confused.
“He was until he saw the true light in his last days. Can we get through?”
The man opens and closes his mouth a couple of times before he moves aside. Eloise goes with queenly gaits to the door he points out to her. I’m going to follow her, but the biggest officer grabs me by the arm.
“Sorry, boy... We wanted to talk to you about something. As you’ll assume, there’s going to be an investigation into Dunning’s behavior on the day of his death. You spent a lot of time with him in the last few days, so you might be called to testify.” The man bends his head and scratches his neck, nervous. “We thought that what happened to him had to be due to the stress of the last few weeks. You know... the diagnosis of cancer, the kidnappings of those children and then the child who appeared drowned... From that investigation depends on his good name and the pension that his wife and children would have left. It is not fair that, after so many years of exemplary service, everything will go to hell for that last day.”
“I agree with you.” I stop him. “What exactly are you asking from me?”
“Well, we’re all going to testify that he went crazy because of the stress, that last day he acted like he was not him, as if he had been possessed by someone else... Would you mind testifying the same thing?”
“Not at all,” I throw a sad smile at them. “That’s exactly what happened.”
The agent lets me go and I follow Eloise, who is waiting for me with the door open. We entered a room without furniture, dominated by a huge incinerator furnace. Placed right in front of the door is the closed casket containing Dunning’s body.
Eloise has left her bag on the floor and is digging inside, so I guess it’s my turn to open the coffin. I lift the lid with trembling hands, fearing that I will find that black hole in the middle of his forehead and with his dead eyes, accusing me of not having done everything possible to save him. However, the funeral staff have done a great job. The mark on his forehead is imperceptible under the makeup and his face is serene as if sleeping.
Eloise takes two packets of salt and passes me one. I’m starting to throw it to handfuls over Dunning’s body. I don’t know if I’m throwing too much. I’ve never done this before, but I guess it will always be better too much than too little. I try not to think and not to look too much at his body, but with every new handful, I feel like I’m committing sacrilege. After a while, Eloise puts a hand on my arm to stop me.
“That’s enough. Now we’ll say a prayer for his soul.”
Eloise weaves her hands and bends over her head. I choose to imitate her, although I cannot remember any prayer of the times when my parents took me to church as a child. Besides, despite everything we’ve been through, I still don’t know for sure if I believe in a heaven and a hell in the “traditional style.” With the things I have experienced in the last few days, I have the conviction that there is something more after death, but I remain unconvinced of the existence of a kindly God who, however, allows all this. Even though, in case there is, I ask him to welcome Dunning and take care of him as he deserves.
When I finish, Eloise asks me to close the coffin again while she keeps all her stuff. Then she hooks up to my arm and we leave the room. The funeral attendant sighs when he sees us going out. I don’t know if he was afraid that we were going to steal the corpse.
“Don’t touch anything, nor open the coffin.” Eloise orders to him. “Incinerate him immediately as he is.”
“What have you done to him?” The man asks.
“Nothing that is of any concern.” Eloise turns to the police officers, who continue to wait in a corner. “Can you make sure that this man fulfills his function by respecting the last wishes of his companion?”
“Of course. Don’t worry about a thing.”
When we leave the funeral parlor, I look at my watch. It’s almost five in the afternoon and my mother told me she wants to see me at the motel at seven, with the luggage ready and willing to leave with them.
“What are you going to do now?” Eloise asks me as if she had read my mind.
“Well, I have to finish gather up my backpack and return the books I borrowed from the library before I leave. And I wanted to stop by the cemetery to say goodbye to Anne and the others.”
“Weren’t you leaving today?”
“Yes, but I have two hours left. If I go by bike, I think I’ll have time for everything.”
“Haven’t you thought about staying a while longer? I thought you still had vacation days left.” Her voice sounds sad. It seems that she has become fonder of me than I expected and that she is finding hard to say goodbye to me.
“Yes, I still have some left, but I have nothing more to do here and my mother will have a heart attack if I tell her I’m staying. What happened yesterday was the straw that broke the camel’s back. She doesn’t want to hear about Swanton again in what is left of her life.
“I understand. It’s alright. Go ahead, you would go faster.”
“And what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to walk around until I stop seeing smoke coming out of that chimney,” She points out to the funeral parlor’s roof. “When the incineration is over, I’ll go home and do an Ouija session to make sure it’s all over.”
“Do you need my help?”
“Thank you, darling, but I don’t need a trembling boy on the verge of a nervous breakdown.” Eloise is leading me a tender look, like those dedicated to helpless puppies. “I think I can do it alone.”
“As you wish, but you should know that I am no longer the same fearful boy who came to this town. I can face any ghost that shows up to me... Although, I sincerely hope that no other would show up to me in my life.”
“Shall I see you again before you leave?”
“Sure. When I’m done, I’ll drop by your house to pick up the backpack and the Impala. See you later.”
Without thinking about what I’m doing, I lean towards her and give her a soft kiss on the cheek before turning fast and start walking. I know it’s nonsense, I hardly know this woman, but my eyes are stinging, and I have a knot in my throat.
XVI
A half an hour later, I’m already in the library, loaded with all the books I borrowed. The librarian recognizes me at the moment and looks at me suspiciously. I’m sure that she is thinking that it took me too little to consult them in-depth enough to make a decent doctoral thesis.
“Are you done already? How fast!”
“Yes, I just needed to contrast some information.” I throw at her my most charming smile. “Now, I have left the hardest thing to do: write the thesis. Do not worry, I promise to mention you in the acknowledgments.”
“Thank you very much.” The woman seems excited. “I hope you’ll send us a copy for the library.”
“It’s a fact,” I answer as I wink at her. “Well, I have to go now. A pleasure.”
“Wait a minute. I have to check that you’ve returned all of them and you have to sign on the book’s cards.”She tells me, while she opens one of the archive’s drawer. “One usually signs before taking the books out of the library, but I was so excited when you told me you were going to write a thesis on the history of Swanton that I forgot to do it. Do you mind if we do it now?”
“No, of course... I hope it doesn’t take too long. I’m in a hurry.”
“Don’t worry, it will be five minutes.”
The woman hands me the first card. The names and signatures of all the people who, before me, have taken that book out of the library are written down. I fill in the information in a hurry and I give the card to her, so she can give me the next one. When I have done four or five, the librarian interrupts me:
“How strange! Did you get these books in the year 2.001?”
“No, of course not. In that year I was a kid. Why do you ask?”
“Someone named E. Armstrong took out several of these books at that time.” The woman puts the cards lined up on the counter and starts pointing them out for me. “Don’t you think it’s a funny coincidence?”
I don’t think it’s funny at all. I don’t know what this means, but I know who owns that name and that signature. Evelyn Armstrong. My mother.
I keep going around and around in my head as I pedal on my way to the Riverside Cemetery. The only logical explanation I can think of is that my mother also tried to solve these crimes, she was worried about me and my dead friends and tried to make sense of all of that. I wonder why she never told me anything. I guess when she saw that I was beginning to forget, she preferred to forget too.
