by David Haynes
He sat for a while, staring at the clock, watching the second hand glide around the face. His mind wandered all over the place and certainly nowhere near the marking on his desk. Sooner or later, he was going to run into Paul. How would that end, he wondered? He wasn’t scared of the man, although he still held a kind of wary reverence for him, a leftover from school. He didn’t know why; the guy had shown himself up for what he was – a bully. Everyone knew that bullies backed down when confronted. He didn’t think Paul Weaver knew how to back down, that was the problem. Brad Simmons? He’d fold like a cheap tent if he was challenged on his own. But Paul was dangerous and, by the sound of it, getting worse.
Dan pushed the marking aside and stood up. He’d been sitting there for an hour and hadn’t done anything except daydream. He needed another coffee to wake him up. He stretched his back and walked out of his classroom, back along the hallway to the teachers’ lounge. He nodded at the others. They looked as bad as he felt. The room was silent. Not even Bob Fletcher could muster up any student-inspired vitriol this morning. He just sat with his head down.
“You okay, Bob?” he asked.
The man looked up. He had swollen, red rings around his eyes. He hadn’t shaved and it looked doubtful he’d slept either. The top button on his shirt was undone and his tie was askew. It wasn’t much, especially considering the school was closed to the pupils, but on Bob Fletcher it was a huge deal. The man was a lot of things but unkempt wasn’t one of them. Dan had never seen him looking anything but immaculate. It occurred to him that Bob might have spent the night in his car or even in the school.
“She threw me out.”
“What?”
“Mary. She threw me out the house.”
Dan looked around the room. Everyone else had their heads down. It was uncomfortable. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. He didn’t particularly like the man.
“I’ve been stupid,” he continued. “A stupid, foolish old man.”
Dan remained by the counter with his cup. He didn’t know what to say. Again, he looked for help from his colleagues but none of them would meet his eye.
“I’m sure it’s not as bad as it seems.” It was a bland comment but all he could manage.
“Oh, it’s worse,” he replied. “Far, far worse.” He fidgeted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable.
Dan remembered him walking along the corridor, clearly in discomfort. Emily and the football team all displayed the same characteristics. His stomach churned. “What have you done, Bob?”
“You’re an English teacher. You know Nabokov. You know Lolita.”
Dan swallowed. He didn’t want to hear anymore. This was something for the principal, not him. “I think…”
Outside, a car screeched into the parking lot. The driver didn’t bother to pull into a space, just abandoned it. Everyone lifted their heads at the sound, peering out of the window. “Jerk,” someone said.
Then Pete Carr climbed out of the car. There was a collective gasp. It was as if all the other staff members knew what Dan suspected. Bob Fletcher didn’t move.
“Look, Bob, you might want to get out of here, talk to Principal Fisher and sort this out.”
He looked at Pete Carr. The man jerked his head from side to side, searching for the entrance. His cheeks were bright red. He was mad – Dan could almost see the fire burning in his skull.
“She…she…I love her. That’s the thing. I love Emily.”
Dan turned to him. “Shut up, Bob. Just stop that.”
Bob smiled up at him. “It’s true,” he said.
Pete stomped toward the building’s entrance. There was a loud crack as he flung the door against the frame and then his footsteps were marching down the hallway. They stopped as he reached the lounge.
Dan walked quickly over to the door. Nobody else seemed to want to intervene but this needed handling properly. The door opened before he reached it. Pete Carr stood on the threshold. The man wasn’t a laborer, he was an executive at some place over in Rainworth, but he wore a tool belt around his waist. A hammer hung down like a gunslinger’s Colt.
“I want Fletcher,” he growled.
Dan held up his hands. “I don’t think this is…”
Bob stood. “I love her,” he said. “Mr. Carr, if you’ll only listen to what I have to say, your daughter and I are in love…we…”
The comment enraged Pete even more. “You shut your mouth!” He tried to barge past Dan but he put his hand out to stop him.
“This needs to be dealt with properly, Mr. Carr. You need to think about what you’re doing.”
Pete didn’t even acknowledge the comment. He just kept glowering at Bob, but Fletcher didn’t seem to know when to shut up.
“Emily and I want to get married. We’ll have to leave Silver Lake but…but…”
Pete Carr shoved Dan in the chest, sending him backward. Dan steadied himself and tried to hold the man back, but he was off balance. Pete reached over and grabbed a fistful of Bob’s shirt.
“No!” Bob shouted. “Let go of me! She’s sixteen!”
Pete wasn’t interested in that. He clearly had one thing on his mind, and that was dragging Bob out into the parking lot and going to work on him with the hammer. “Come here, you pervert!”
Dan was still between them. How the hell had he managed to get embroiled in this? He had only come in to get a cup of coffee. Talk about bad timing.
He regained his balance and managed to push the two men apart. He could feel the heat coming off Pete. He was literally burning up.
“We’re in love!” Bob pleaded.
It was the last straw. Pete drew the hammer, lifted it and swung it downward toward Bob’s head. Dan saw it too late and tried to push Bob out of the way. He did so, but in the process the hammer glanced off his upper arm and caught him on the side of his face. It wasn’t a clean blow but it was enough to send him to the floor. Pain exploded in his cheek. He could feel his jawbone vibrating.
With Dan down and nobody else willing to get involved, Pete grabbed Bob by the collar and dragged him out of the room. Bob’s wailing cries followed him.
Dan lay there for a moment, dazed and confused. His head felt as if it had been used as a football for the last couple of hours. The headache was immediate and savage. Bright lights fluttered in and out of his vision, screeching like banshees.
He heard the main doors crash open, close again and then a loud scream from Bob.
“Do something.” he muttered. “Call the cops.” It was painful to talk.
But the others were standing by the window, looking out at the parking lot.
As Dan got to his feet, the room tipped violently and then steadied. He touched his cheek. It was sticky with blood. He could feel it running onto his collar. Another hideous, pained scream came from outside. It galvanized him to move. He took a couple of unsteady steps toward the door and then into the hallway. He bumped against the wall a couple of times, stumbling but not falling, before he reached the main doors.
It sounded like Pete Carr was taking Bob Fletcher apart limb by limb, such were the screams. Dan almost fell through the doors, out onto the steps. Bob Fletcher was on the ground, lying flat on his back, legs splayed open. His face was bleeding but it was impossible to see where the cut was, there was so much blood. He had stopped screaming for now. He might have been unconscious.
“Pete!” Dan tried to shout but the pain made it more like a whisper.
Pete glanced up and then lifted the hammer. He crouched above Bob’s waist, leaning over his crotch.
“No!” Dan stepped forward, forgetting the steps, and fell face-first onto the path. He looked up, his brain a cloud of cotton balls.
Pete smashed the hammer down into Bob’s crotch. “Filthy fucking pedo!” he shouted and then did it again and again and again. He carried on until blood soaked through Bob’s trousers and covered the hammer. He tried to lift it a final time but the wooden handle was too slick with blood; it flew over his shoulder an
d smashed the front headlight of Dan’s car.
Pete licked his lips. Blood was everywhere, all over his clothes and face. He spat on Bob’s lifeless body and then looked at Dan.
“He deserved that. And worse.”
He walked back to his car, got in and drove away, leaving Dan bleeding onto the concrete.
He closed his eyes. He had to get out of here. Silver Lake was toxic.
41
It was wrong. JJ knew it was the wrong thing to do but he wanted to see what the book said. He needed to know why it was so important to Alex. If he understood what had happened a little better then maybe he could help his friend.
He ripped open the evidence bag and took out the book. It felt a little different to his own, slightly thinner…or was it thicker? He didn’t know, but it felt odd, weird somehow. Unpleasant and not just because of the dried blood on the front cover.
He opened it, flicking through the first few pages and then leafing right to the back. The whole thing was empty, filled with blank pages and nothing else. It didn’t make sense. Why had Alex been so vehement about getting back a book that had nothing written inside? It wasn’t a diary, at least not one with anything written in yet. What the hell made this so special? What made it different from the book he’d given him a couple of days ago?
He closed it. Maybe the cops made a mistake. The other book, the one that belonged to the librarian, that was probably Alex’s book. It was just labeled up wrong.
He pulled it out of his bag and tore open the seal with his teeth. A sweet but very faint smell drifted out of it and then was gone. The book also felt strange in his hands. An involuntary look of distaste crawled across his face.
His spirits dropped when he opened it. The book was empty, just like the other one. Barren.
JJ rubbed his face. None of it made sense. Nothing that was happening in Silver Lake made sense anymore. What made it all worse was the speed at which everything seemed to be failing. He couldn’t talk to anyone about it because he didn’t know what was happening or why. The only person who might understand was lying in a hospital bed, too doped up to think straight. He threw his head back and yelled.
He had to go back. Whatever was going on with Alex was tied to the book. His book, his story, that’s how he described it. Maybe he’d had a complete breakdown. It was understandable.
Had the librarian too? And what about Sam Portland and Gary Palmer? Had they had breakdowns? The Pope guy and all those people fighting yesterday – was that all a simultaneous mental breakdown? Not a chance. People didn’t just start behaving like that. Not the people of Silver Lake. He turned the books over in his hand. There was a connection to these somewhere. A reason Alex wanted his book so bad.
JJ stuffed them back into his rucksack. He had to get back to the hospital and see Alex. He needed answers from him.
*
Dan gave a statement to the officers about what had happened, along with the other teachers who’d witnessed it. Rainworth PD could no longer handle the volume of crime coming out of Silver Lake. A detachment of officers was being sent over from the other surrounding police departments to help. Silver Lake PD had been looted when the fight took place; part of the building had been burned and was unusable. The cops wouldn’t be able to work from there, so they would remain in Rainworth and travel in. Until the reinforcements arrived, Silver Lake would be without a permanent police presence. The state was requesting a contingent of National Guard be deployed in the interim. None of it was likely to happen very quickly.
Dan’s cheek was painful, especially after speaking to the cops for most of the afternoon. One of them gave him some Advil but thought his jaw might be broken. He was advised to go up to the hospital and get checked out. He didn’t feel much like doing that. He just wanted to go home, pack some things together and get out of town.
He drove home and looked at his face in the rear-view mirror. One side was badly swollen and he felt a little nauseous. By the time he got home, the Advil had worn off. The pain was eye-watering.
As he unlocked the front door, he heard movement from the kitchen. He could smell home cooking. It made his mouth water, despite the pain.
“Is that you?” a woman’s voice called out.
It took a couple of seconds for the memory to come back. “Hey, Lori,” he said, wincing. “Thought you’d be at work.” He collapsed on the sofa.
“I called in sick,” she said. “When I looked out the window this morning, I saw Paul and Brad driving past. They must’ve come past three or… Jesus, Dan!” She walked into the room and then rushed over to him. “Did he do this to you? Oh, God, I’m so sorry, I should never have got you involved. I’m so…”
He put his hand on her arm. “It wasn’t him,” he mumbled. “Something happened at school today and…”
“I’m taking you to the hospital,” she said. “Come on, I’ll drive.”
“No, I don’t want…”
“No arguments,” she said, grabbing his arm. “Up you get.”
He was too tired, too sore to put up any arguments. He said nothing, but he had heard her comment about Paul Weaver driving past the house.
When they arrived at the hospital, it was a short walk to the main entrance but as they crossed the parking lot Dan saw, or thought he saw, JJ disappear inside the building. The kid was going to get himself in serious trouble. He’d warned him enough times to stay away, but if he chose to ignore the advice then he’d pay the price. He felt sorry for him. He was trying to look after his friend, despite what Alex had done. That was loyalty.
The doctor ordered a CT scan on Dan’s head. He didn’t think it was fractured but wanted to make sure. It kept them at the hospital for longer than Dan wanted, but Lori wouldn’t allow him to leave until he’d had the test. He didn’t mind too much; the doctor had given him something a good bit stronger than Advil and it was working well.
“I think I want to get out of here,” he said.
“You can’t, you’re waiting for the results. It’ll only be another five…”
“Not the hospital,” he interrupted. “Silver Lake. I want out of Silver Lake.”
She shifted in her seat. “You love this town.”
“I used to. I can’t think of it the same way anymore. Everything that’s happened here, everything that’s been done…I don’t know, it doesn’t feel like the same place.”
“I know,” she replied.
“Nothing’s happened here for the last fifty years and now…now there’s people murdering each other all over the place. Doing things they never would have dreamed of just a few weeks ago. It’s like the whole town’s gone mad!”
“Collective insanity?” Lori said, a wry grin on her face.
He looked at her. “Why not? It’s as good a reason as any.”
Lori exhaled. “You can’t leave this place. You never have and you never will. It’s part of you.”
“Hey, I left here and went to college.”
“Yeah, about fifty miles down the highway.”
He smiled and the pain hit him like a truck. “You regret coming back?”
She frowned. “Sometimes. But mostly not. I like this place, always have.” She nudged him. “Some of the people are okay, too.”
“Gee, thanks.” He didn’t try to smile this time although a part of him felt like it.
“Besides, where would I go if you left town?”
It was on the tip of his tongue to say With me, when the doctor appeared from his office.
“No break,” he said. “No fracture either but you have got some heavy bruising and swelling that’s going to take a while to settle down. Put an ice pack on it for as long as you can stand and keep taking the pain relief.” He grimaced. “You might not want to chew on steak for a while either.” He nodded and then walked away.
“Good news,” Dan said, although it didn’t really feel like good news.
“Not really,” Lori said.
“What? There’s no break. I’ll be fine in a
couple of days.”
She shrugged. “I was halfway through cooking you a steak when you got home.”
“You were?” It had been a long time since anyone had cooked him anything that didn’t go straight in the microwave.
“Yep,” she replied. “And I was kinda hoping you might kiss me later, too.”
She put her fingers on his swollen cheek. Her touch was like a feather. He felt his heart beat faster.
“I think I’d like to try that,” he said. “Not the steak, the kiss. I’ve got a feeling the pain would be worth it.”
She smiled. “I hope so. Home?”
“You mind if we just visit someone?”
“Of course not. Who?”
42
JJ hurried along the corridor until he was in the right place. The hospital was busy, busier than the last time. It wasn’t a big place, at least not by the standards of the larger facility in Rainworth, but with so many people, staff and visitors coming and going it seemed shrunken.
At least nobody was outside Alex’s room. The cops were even busier now than when he last came. There was no way they could afford to put a permanent guard outside the room.
He knocked and walked in. Alex lay in the bed just as he had before, except his arms were now exposed, the protective bandages removed. JJ didn’t want to look but his eyes were drawn to the two elongated wounds on his forearms. They were laced up with black string like a boot. Against the pale skin, it looked hideous. He looked away quickly.
“Hey,” he said, softly.
Alex’s eyes were closed but he moved a little when JJ spoke.
“Thought I’d come back, see how you were doing?” Now the bandages were off, he hoped the doctors had eased down on the medication and he might be able to actually talk to his friend.
His eyes remained closed.
JJ eased his rucksack off his shoulder, pulling it in front of his body. “I bought you something,” he said.
Alex’s eyes flicked open. “My book?” He looked alert, his voice much clearer, his words more defined than last time.
