by David Haynes
“Tell me again, sir, which chapters am I supposed to read?”
Dan swallowed hard. Her thighs, pale and smooth, were almost touching his hand. Why hadn’t he moved away, or told her to get off the desk? He was like a rabbit in headlights. Frozen.
“I…er…Emily…this isn’t…”
She traced her fingernails up her thigh, touching the hem of the skirt, toying with it.
He’d heard about things like this happening to other teachers, but never for one minute did he think it could happen to him. Emily had never exhibited any feelings for him, never shown any interest at all. This must be a mistake, a joke perhaps. Either that or he was reading the signals all wrong.
She leaned down toward him. “I won’t tell if you won’t,” she whispered.
Her breath was warm and sweet on his cheek. He felt almost detached from his body. How could this be happening?
“No,” he said, closing his eyes. “No!” he repeated, standing up.
She leaned away from him but didn’t get down from the desk. She smiled, sweetly.
“I know you want to. I can see it. I can tell how much you all want it.”
“Emily, you need to get off my desk, please.”
“Sure,” she said, sliding forward. A flash of panties. Her bag was beside her on the desk. It opened up a little as she moved. Did she have one of those books in there? The same one Ryan had been possessive over? He shook his head. It wasn’t the time for thinking about books.
“Emily!” he shouted. “Stop this, now!” He walked over to the door and opened it. “Sam is waiting for you. Now go!”
She shrugged as if it were nothing, as if it had all been just a silly mistake. Something to laugh about later.
He held the door as she walked past, her perfume sickly and overpowering. She giggled and then was gone. Into the hallway, mingling with the other kids.
Dan took a deep breath. He’d need to make a report about this, go and see Mrs. Fisher and tell her what happened. Even now, he wasn’t sure it had been real. Her behavior had been just so…bizarre. Unlike her completely.
If she decided to tell her friends what she did, someone would put a spin on it, the whispering would start and then he’d be in a whole world of trouble. He needed to go and get this sorted right away.
He grabbed his jacket from his chair and walked toward the principal’s office. He hadn’t done anything, he had nothing to feel bad about, and yet he did. Just being in that room with her made him feel like he’d done something wrong. Maybe he hadn’t acted fast enough. He should have seen what she was doing right away and moved, or got up and opened the door. That’s what he should have done. Instead he’d just frozen, more shocked than anything else.
What the hell had got into her? Emily Carr had never struck him as particularly confident, always in the shadow of her best friend Megan Palmer. Megan wasn’t at school today, the specter of her uncle’s arrest looming large over the respectable family. Was it something to do with that? Something between them he didn’t know or hadn’t heard about. It was getting way too complicated around here. He had to look out for himself now. He just had to be careful. Handle this the right way.
“You heard what happened?”
“What?” He stopped in his tracks. JJ was leaning against the wall. “Oh, hi JJ. Heard what?”
“About the PD?”
“The PD? What about it?” He didn’t need any cryptic conversations with JJ. Not now.
“One of the cops went nuts and tried to shoot everyone in there, including Gary Palmer and that librarian who killed her brother.”
There was no awe in JJ’s voice, no attempts to impress, or any emotion for that matter. He sounded flat. Nevertheless, if it was true, it was shocking.
“Who told you that?”
JJ shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t know, everyone was talking about it just now.” He walked away, toward the main doors.
“Hey, Dan, have you heard?”
Bob Fletcher, the math teacher and all-round dick, came out of the staff lounge toward him.
“About the police?” Dan asked.
“Apparently one of those out-of-town detectives went postal and killed a load of cops. He’s dead now, they shot him but not until he took a few out. A few of us are heading down there now.”
“It’s true then?”
Fletcher frowned. “Didn’t you hear the sirens? They’ve had to call in paramedics from all over the county to deal with it.”
“You’re going to help?”
“To get a closer look,” Fletcher replied. “You can help if you want to.”
Dan followed him out the doors and down the steps onto the parking lot. Three cars belonging to staff were driving out of the main gate. He knew of at least one teacher whose husband was a town cop. He needed to get down there and offer some help.
27
JJ crossed the parking lot and walked out onto the street. Most people were heading in the opposite direction, hurrying back into town to see what was happening at the PD. He was going the other way. With the police tied up, and likely to be for a while yet, it seemed like a good opportunity to go and visit the hospital, see if he could finally get in to see Alex.
The truth of the matter was that JJ was lost without him. He didn’t care that he was gay, he’d always known about that. He didn’t understand what he’d done to his parents but he cared about Alex and why he’d hurt himself. That was what bothered him. They were best friends, always had been, so why had he kept everything to himself? Perhaps if they’d talked, actually talked, then it wouldn’t have all come spilling out in a plume of blood. Alex might not have hurt himself. He might not be in the hospital waiting for the cops to come and take him to jail.
JJ crossed over the street, took the next left and walked the incline up Silver Lake Road to the hospital. Farther along, the road turned into a track; town funds were still insufficient to build a road all the way to the only decent thing the town had going for it – the lake.
He’d heard about what they found up there, about Gary Palmer and his fishing cabin. He’d listened to some of the kids embellish the scene, talking as if they were actually there instead of repeating what was already fifth- or sixth-hand information. And now this with the cops. Silver Lake was going to shit and he couldn’t wait to get out.
Sirens wailed in the distance. An ambulance was already outside the ER, the two paramedics pulling the gurney from the back of it. A man lay on the trolley, blood all over his gray police uniform. He groaned as they pushed him inside.
JJ pushed inside the main doors. He knew where Alex’s room was; he’d been up here often enough, trying to visit. Each time he’d been turned away by the cop sitting outside his room. As far as he knew, he’d been the only visitor. It made sense, the rest of Alex’s family were dead.
He glanced around the foyer. It was deserted, everyone busy in the emergency room. They didn’t even know he was here. He climbed the stairs and turned left down a long corridor, the new part of the building.
At the far end of the corridor was Alex’s room. It was well away from the others, on its own – easier to guard that way. As he walked toward it, he could see the guard’s chair outside the door. The cop who’d also been a permanent fixture was gone. That was what JJ had been counting on. All available officers were down at the police department trying to help out.
He looked through the partially glazed door. Alex was lying in the bed, his arms out of the covers. They were heavily bandaged, held up in some kind of brace. He couldn’t see any handcuffs restraining him, but then again, a guard had been here around the clock to prevent an escape. He opened the door and walked inside.
He could hear Alex’s breathing, the deep and easy breath of someone sound asleep.
“Hey,” he whispered, walking around the bed to a chair nobody would ever use. He felt his throat tighten as he tried to swallow. He was about to cry, he could feel it. Air hissed from the seat’s cushion as he sat down. “Thought I�
��d come see how you were doing.”
He looked his friend over. His complexion had always been gray, waxy even, but lying in the bed as he was, he could have been a marble statue.
JJ rifled through his school bag and fished out a bag of grapes. He didn’t know why he’d bought them, but he’d seen people take fruit to patients in hospital. It appeared to be expected. Did Alex like fruit? He didn’t even know that about him.
“They found Nicole and Melody. Samantha too.” Did Alex even know they were missing? Had it been before or after he was in the hospital? “They were up near the lake. Megan Palmer’s uncle chopped them up in his cabin up there. Seriously sick stuff.”
He waited for Alex to speak. His breathing had changed. It was shallow, shaky, as if he were listening.
“They wouldn’t let me come see you.” JJ’s voice trembled slightly. “Said you couldn’t talk to me. Said you were incommunicado.”
Alex opened his eyes, blinked rapidly, allowing tears to dribble down his cheeks.
“Sorry,” he said. His voice was slow, the word heavy as it came out of his mouth.
JJ swallowed back the tears, trying to smile. “It’s me who’s sorry. I..I…” He didn’t know what to say.
Alex shook his head. The movement was as labored as his speech. “Book,” he whispered.
JJ hadn’t thought to bring a book with him. He should have. Something to take Alex away from this bed. “I didn’t think to, but I can go see what they’ve got downstairs. I might even get a chance to go home and fetch…”
“My book,” Alex interrupted.
His pupils were dilated, black pinpricks against his blue eyes. He was sedated.
“The Laymon? I’ll bring it later. I haven’t read any for…”
“No!” Alex shouted. “I want my book!” Although he was sedated and his speech slurred, his eyes showed the agitation he was feeling.
JJ stood up. “I don’t understand. I…what book do you mean? I…”
“My story. My book!” His fingers flexed in the braces, his hand trying to form a fist but his arm clearly too damaged to manage it.
“Calm down, man. They’ll hear you and I’ll get thrown out. Just…”
“My book. My book. My story. My book!” He strained to form the words, trying to lift himself off the bed. He grimaced, his face a savage snarl. “I want my book!” he yelled.
JJ looked at the door. Any moment now, someone would hear and come running – a cop, a nurse, one of the doctors – and he’d get thrown out, maybe even taken to the station.
He put his hand on Alex’s. The flesh felt cold. “I’ll get it,” he said. “I’ll bring it to you.”
Alex relaxed, sinking back into his pillows. “JJ,” he whispered. “JJ.” He closed his eyes.
JJ stood there for a minute, his hand still on top of his friend’s. Alex’s breathing returned to the steady, deep rhythm it had when he first arrived. Somehow, he felt like he’d done more harm than good coming. He had no idea how to help him, how to find this book, his book.
The sedation wasn’t helping but Alex’s mind was clearly screwed anyway. He felt his own tears coming then. His friend, his best and only friend, was gone. Physically he was never going to come back to Silver Lake, not after what he’d done, and it appeared his mind had already left. It was probably for the best. It was probably…
The book. A diary, maybe? Is that what he wanted? It made sense. He referred to it as my story but he’d never seen Alex with anything like that, never seen it in his room. Was it something new? A new thing he’d been…
They had been to the new bookstore together and the old guy had given them both a book; a free gift, he’d called it. JJ had never even taken his out of his bag. He had enough books to read already and he never opened one until it was time to start reading it.
He rummaged in his bag and pulled the book out. The cover looked antique, the binding ancient. He ran his fingers over the cover; soft, yielding and with a slight aroma he couldn’t quite put his fingers on. Not unpleasant, almost seductive.
“Alex?” he whispered, “Is this what you want?” If he was keeping a diary then maybe this would do. Would he even be allowed a pen or a pencil to write with? He gently squeezed Alex’s hand.
“I’ve got the book for you,” he said, a little louder. He glanced across the room to the door, still conscious he might be caught. Outside, the sirens were constant, fading into the distance then returning to the hospital and reaching a climax outside the ER.
Alex opened his eyes, squeezed them shut and opened them again. JJ held the book up for him to see.
“This what you’re after? I haven’t opened it yet and I haven’t got a pen but…”
“My book!” He beamed. His fingers trembled, as if he were reaching for it. Even if he did have a pen, he wouldn’t be able to write anything. His nerves and tendons must be cut to shreds.
JJ put it in his hand, closing his fingers over it. He couldn’t help but smile. He’d felt so pathetic, so utterly helpless and guilty over what Alex had been through and what he’d done to himself. This was the first time he’d been able to do anything even remotely helpful for his friend.
“My story,” Alex smiled. “JJ,” he added. He shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts, attempting to come back from the medication-induced planet he was on and not quite managing it.
“Inside,” he said, swallowing hard, grimacing. His fingers touched the binding. A confused look flashed across his face.
“You want to look inside?” JJ asked.
With effort, Alex nodded.
JJ took the book and turned the page, still facing Alex. He couldn’t see what was in the book, only that he assumed it was full of blank pages, ready for someone to write their memoirs.
Alex’s eyes widened. His whole body started shaking, even his head.
“No!” he shouted. “No. No. No!”
JJ tried to turn the book to face him but despite the bandages, the weakness in his hands, Alex kept hold.
“What is it, Alex? What’s wrong?”
A shrill alarm sounded in the room and above the door a beacon flashed, strobing the room with bloody light. JJ let go of the book.
“What…”
In Alex’s other hand was an alarm dongle. His fingers pressed the button repeatedly.
“What’re you doing? They’ll come and…”
Alex hurled the book across the room. “No!” he roared. It sounded like his voice was coming from somewhere else, so slowly did he speak.
JJ had to move. Staff would be here any minute, and they’d catch him and call the cops. He’d be locked up before lunch break was over.
He looked at the book on the floor and then at Alex, whose expression was like nothing JJ had seen before. Terror didn’t come close – he looked scared to death. He stared at the book and then turned to JJ.
“Go,” he hissed.
JJ grabbed his bag and ran out of the room. He made a dozen steps before nurses started filtering out of a room high up on the right. He dodged into a restroom, locking himself into a stall, and listened to their footsteps run past.
What the hell just happened? One moment Alex had been fine, happy even, when he put the book in his hand. He recognized it. It was obviously the book he was after. Even if it wasn’t his diary, it was the same as the one he’d been using.
His head dropped. He’d tried his best to help Alex and all he’d done was make things worse. Disturbed him so much that he’d thrown the book. His bedroom had been like that when he found him. His stuff was everywhere. His blood was everywhere.
He lifted his head, listened to the diminishing sound of footsteps back along the hallway. They had probably just pumped Alex with enough sedative to keep him out of it for weeks.
He slipped out of the restroom into the hallway. A doctor and two nurses stood outside Alex’s room, talking. They glanced up at him before resuming their conversation. The doctor held the book in his hand. They didn’t know he’d j
ust been in there with Alex, he could have been visiting any of the patients in this wing.
There was no way he was going to be able to get back into Alex’s room today. No way on earth but he was going to see what was written in that book. One way or another, he was going to read it.
28
At the about the same time as the ambulances were taking injured and dead cops up to the hospital, one of the tellers in the bank pressed the panic button. A man armed with a shotgun came inside, pantyhose pulled tight over his face, and demanded the staff empty their registers into his grain sack. Company policy was to cede to the demands and give the man what he wanted. That was policy, but it wasn’t what Bob Morton the security guard wanted to do. He had been a cop for twenty-five years, retired four. He wasn’t about to let some wannabe gangster rob his bank.
He’d never had to fire his gun in twenty-five years of policing Silver Lake, but Morton drew his weapon and fired it just the same. It missed Butch but took out one of the windows, sending splinters of it into the eyes of a passing pedestrian.
The shotgun blast near enough removed Morton’s head from his shoulders. The robber hadn’t meant for anyone to get hurt, let alone killed, but he had bills to pay and the bank was ready to foreclose on his mortgage. He wasn’t about to let that happen.
He fled on foot away from the bank, out onto the track that led up to the lake and the woods. He smiled as he ran. He’d always been fascinated by stories of Jesse James, Butch Cassidy and the Wild Bunch, of the numerous banks they’d robbed. He’d watched all the History Channel specials on them, but it wasn’t until he’d read that book that it really came to life. He was now part of their gang, notorious but well-liked outlaws, always one step ahead of the law. It was a shame the guard got in the way, that didn’t need to happen. But it had and Jesse James sure as hell never cried over a bit of spilled blood, so he wouldn’t either.
Who would have thought a book, a simple book, could have given him the courage to do what he’d just done? Without it, he wouldn’t have even considered it. He put his hand to his chest, felt the shape of the book beneath his jacket.
