by David Haynes
JJ’s spirits rose. “Sure, here.” He grabbed the book, the vague sense of revulsion there again, and passed it to his friend.
The beaming look on Alex’s face made everything seem worth it. There was no sense that he found the texture of the cover unpleasant. He looked like he might cry with happiness.
“My story!” he shouted.
JJ watched him open the book, scan the first few pages. He waited for the reaction, the same panic in his eyes, the screaming and shouting. But it didn’t come. He seemed to be reading, his lips moving as he spelt out the words.
“Alex?”
He didn’t even lift his head, he just kept on reading.
“Alex,” he called again.
There was nothing, no response at all. He was lost in the book, completely lost to it. But to what? All JJ had seen were blank pages, page after page completely devoid of any form of marking.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “Alex? What are you reading? It’s blank, the pages are blank!”
Alex looked up. He frowned. “It’s my story, JJ.” There was a half-smirk on his face as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Look!”
He turned the book around. The page was empty. JJ looked at it and then back at Alex. “There’s nothing on it!”
Alex shrugged and turned the book around. “You’re blind,” he said quietly.
JJ watched him for a moment, following the movement of his lips as he turned the page. He was reading something, something JJ couldn’t see. He shook his head. What should he do? His friend was having a breakdown. He was insane.
“I can’t see it!” he shouted. “I can’t see anything!”
Alex sighed, as if disturbed. “I’ll read you some, if you like.” He rolled his legs off the bed. “But you can’t tell a soul what it says. If you do, I’ll bash your head in, just like I did to Dad.” He turned back to the book. “It’s a new chapter!”
JJ went cold all over. Alex’s eyes were dead as he traced his finger over the page and started to read.
At first, he thought Alex’s medication had kicked in, that his slurred words were a result of something he had taken before he got there. But it wasn’t. He listened, trying to make sense of what Alex was saying, attempting to decipher each word as it spilled from his lips.
It wasn’t English, it wasn’t Spanish or French; it was something utterly strange. His speech was filled with guttural croaks, grunts and coughs. His mouth moved in ways it shouldn’t, stretching and contorting into shapes that didn’t seem possible.
“Alex!” he called. “Alex, stop!”
The sounds made his skin crawl, made something at the back of his skull itch. But Alex read on, uttering a language that was as unpleasant to hear as the feel of the book had been on his fingers.
“Stop!” he shouted, louder this time. But Alex didn’t look up, he flicked through the pages, faster and faster until his fingers were a blur. When he reached the final page he stopped, abruptly slamming the book closed.
He looked lost, his Adam’s apple working up and down on his throat. He stared at the back cover of the book and then carefully placed it on the nightstand.
He turned to JJ. “You told everyone I was gay.”
JJ frowned. “What? What the hell are you talking about?”
“That’s what my story says. It says you told everyone I was gay and that I wanted to sleep with Ryan Simmons.”
JJ almost laughed. It was ridiculous. It was the medication speaking, not Alex.
“And now everyone hates me. They hate me because I killed my parents.” He paused. “I had to kill them, JJ, you know that. They knew I was gay too and they were going to send me away. I couldn’t let that happen. My book told me that.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think I need to leave, you’re not making…”
Alex got slowly to his feet, his gown almost scraping along the cold floor. “The story is the main thing, isn’t that what you say about all those books you read? The story.” He tapped the book on his nightstand. “Well, this is my story and it is not just the main thing, JJ. It is everything.”
He reached under the nightstand, sliding out a small, sealed plastic package. He peeled the corner and removed the scalpel.
“You shouldn’t have told everyone,” he said. “That was wrong, JJ.”
JJ backed away, suddenly very aware that he was backing into a wall and that the only way out was the door on the other side of the bed.
“Alex, what’re you doing? Why have you got that?”
“It’s all part of the story. I can’t diverge from the story, JJ. I can’t.” He walked slowly forward, his bare feet slapping across the tiles. “You told them all and now everyone who knows has to die. I have to kill them all.” He shrugged. “Sorry, but that’s the way it ends. Take a look for yourself if you don’t believe me.” He nodded at the book, taking his eyes off JJ for a second.
JJ seized the opportunity and ran toward the door, putting as much space between him and Alex as he could. It wasn’t easy, the room wasn’t large.
He didn’t make it past his friend. Alex sliced the air between them with the scalpel. It nicked JJ’s hand, clean and deep across his knuckles. He cried out, narrowly avoiding the second swipe which came at his neck.
“Alex!” he screamed. “Stop! Just stop! It’s not you, this isn’t you! The book, it’s the book!”
Alex smiled and stepped forward. “Yes, that’s right! It is the book. It is my story!” His eyes looked like they belonged in a cheap waxwork doll. They were lifeless, robotic.
“No, it isn’t your story. It’s blank, the pages are blank!”
But Alex stepped forward again. JJ was running out of space. He reached behind, feeling the cool wall at his back.
“Please,” he pleaded. “Please, Alex. You’re my friend. My best friend. My only friend.” He felt the tears spring from his eyes and roll down his cheeks. Alex didn’t notice, he closed the gap, holding the scalpel out in front of him.
“What the hell!” a voice screamed from the door as it was flung open. JJ jerked his head to the side. Mr. Law was standing in the doorway, with Lori the librarian beside him.
“Put the knife down, Alex!” he shouted. He glanced at Lori. “Fetch someone,” he hissed. She ran down the corridor, shouting for help.
Mr. Law edged into the room, keeping his eyes on the boy. Alex had half-turned when he came in, but his intentions were clear. “What’s going on, Alex?”
“He’s…he’s not…” JJ started through his tears. “It’s not Alex, it’s not him. He read the book and…and…”
Alex turned to face Mr. Law. There was a calm expression on his face. It was as if this was the most natural thing in the world.
“I have to kill everyone,” he said. “They all know and so I have to kill them all.” He pointed the scalpel. “Including you, Mr. Law. Sorry but that’s how the story ends. How my story must end.”
Mr. Law shook his head. “The story’s wrong, Alex. It doesn’t have to go this way. You can choose a different ending.”
Alex frowned, bit his lip. “No, that’s not right. The story is king. The story is written and it can’t be changed now. Besides, I don’t want to change it.”
He turned back to JJ and at the same time Mr. Law ran forward. He charged into Alex’s back, sending him into the wall.
“Go!” he shouted at JJ. “Get out of here!”
JJ scrambled away, sliding on the bloody tiles, but couldn’t pull his eyes away. Alex spun around, slicing at the air with the scalpel. Mr. Law dodged one way and then the other but Alex kept coming forward, creating an arc of razor-sharp steel between them.
Behind him he heard a loud gasp, and then voices shouting for help. More staff had arrived but they couldn’t get into the room. Mr. Law was distracted for a split-second, trying to work out how he could move away. Alex lunged forward. The blade didn’t connect, but he caught his heel on the bed and toppled backward.
&nbs
p; He expected Alex to pounce on him, to stab him, but he didn’t. He just simply stared at the doorway, looking at the staff waiting there.
“I guess,” he said, “there is the alternate ending.” He raised his eyebrows, smiling at JJ who was standing in the doorway. “So long!”
Mr. Law tried to stand up but he was too slow, the floor slick with JJ’s blood. Alex drew the scalpel across his stitches, first one arm and then the other, unzipping them both. He held his hands downward as blood spouted from the wounds.
JJ screamed and was pushed aside as the staff tumbled into the room, tripping over Mr. Law. But they were too slow. Alex pulled the steel blade swiftly and deeply across his throat. Blood flowed out of his wounds and covered the room. He was dead before the staff could catch his falling body.
At the door JJ was shaking his head, weeping. One of the orderlies had his arm around his shoulder but he shrugged free, making straight for the drawer on the nightstand. Before anyone could stop him, he reached inside and pulled out another book, almost identical to the one by Alex’s feet.
JJ looked at Mr. Law, tears falling from his eyes, blood dripping slowly from his hand.
“I need you to take this and hold it for me. It’s my book. We’re going to read it together.” He pushed it at him, his eyes pleading. He took it.
JJ allowed the orderly, who was already trying to patch him up, to lead him out of the room where his best friend lay dead.
43
Paul had lost count of the number of times he’d driven past Law’s house. A perfect little two-bed with a lawn out front and a white picket fence running up the side. It was like something out of a cartoon. He knew Lori was in there. She was hiding from him, waiting until she thought it was safe to come out. She hadn’t gone to work either. The library had stayed closed up.
Brad had done nothing but whine all day. First about his nose, then later about being bored, staring at the same streets all day and riding past the same house. He seemed to think it was good that Lori had left because all Paul did was bitch and moan about her anyway. He might agree with him about that, but the manner of her departure bugged him. The way she defaced his book. It was unacceptable behavior.
Law had gone off to work early that morning, and he thought he’d seen her peering out between the blinds. There were too many people around at that time of the morning to risk kicking the door in. Eventually he gave up and drove over to the other side of town.
Someone had mounted Chris Newsome’s head on a pike in his front yard. They both knew who was responsible.
“Community policing,” Paul said. “It’s the way forward.”
Brad chuckled. “Think we should take it down?”
“What the hell for? He did the crime, now he’s doing the time. That’s how it works around here.”
They drove around the block a couple of times, waiting for someone to start a fight, or complain about Chris Newsome’s head. Nobody did. Most of the families had lost a pet or two over the last few weeks. Cheadle had the foresight to extract a confession from Newsome during the torture process, which he had nailed to a fence post beside his head. And if anyone was confused or couldn’t read the shaky handwriting, there was a cardboard placard hung around his neck to explain things further. There were some pained looks, a few grimaces as people walked by, but nobody bothered to take the head down. It just proved what Paul thought. People didn’t want their police to be soft, they wanted a kick-ass unit that dispensed justice swiftly and mercilessly. Either that or they were scared to get involved after what happened to the Pope family. It didn’t matter to Paul. The new justice system was working well. It was working effectively.
They cruised back to the other side of town. Ryan Simmons and Gary Palmer’s niece were sitting in the park.
“Hey, your kid and the Palmer girl back together?”
Brad shrugged.
“They look awful cozy, sitting there.”
“I don’t know, she fucked him over pretty bad. Bad-mouthed him all over town.”
“I heard he couldn’t get it up,” Paul said. “Just like his old man.”
Brad closed his swollen, bruised eyes and shook his head. “You ever going to quit giving me a hard time?”
Paul laughed. “Maybe. Let’s have another ride past Law’s house, see if we can’t see Lori.”
Brad sighed. “Not again, man. How many times…”
Paul cranked his elbow and smashed it into Brad’s face. He was sick and tired of the constant moaning and whining the man did. It was almost like he didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to be a cop. He should read the book, that would get him interested.
“Oww, goddammit Paul!” He clutched his face, his broken nose weeping blood again. It hadn’t been a hard blow, not enough to cause any real injuries, just a wake-up call.
“You want to be a cop, Brad?”
Brad didn’t reply for a few seconds. “Of course I do,” he whined.
“Then stop your bitching.”
Brad huffed. He needed convincing.
“Listen, we’re going to take a ride down to Law’s address, park down the road and wait for her to show her face. Or him, I don’t care who. And while we’re waiting, I want you to read a book.”
“Read? I’m not reading any damn book.”
Paul felt his temper fraying again. He clenched his fist around the steering wheel. Brad saw it.
“Okay, okay, what is it? Porn?”
Paul exhaled loudly. “It’s my story, a kind of biography that keeps updating. It’s my guide. It tells me what I need to do.”
Brad didn’t reply. He didn’t understand.
“And when you’ve read it, you’ll understand why I’m so angry.”
“About a book?”
“No, you dick. That Lori ripped a page out of it. She destroyed the ending. She needs to answer for that crime.”
He could see Brad frowning.
“You’ll see,” he said.
He drove past the teacher’s house. There was still no car in the driveway so he drove on, turning into a cul-de-sac from where he could see the house.
He turned off the ignition and reached inside his jacket. He barely noticed the bulk of it pressing against the top of his ribs anymore. It felt like it had always been there, was always meant to be there. He slid it out and held it for Brad to see.
“A beauty, isn’t she?”
Brad shrugged. “I guess. Doesn’t look like any book I’ve ever seen. What’s got into you anyway? I’ve never seen you read anything that didn’t have cartoons or photographs of naked women in.”
“It’s all changed,” he said.
Brad reached for the book, his fat greasy hands grabbing at thin air as Paul pulled it away.
“Wipe your hands first.”
Brad shrugged, pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and rubbed it all over his hands. “Jeez,” he said. “It’s only a book!”
Paul almost took another swipe at him but resisted. It wasn’t just a book, it was his book and it contained his story. The fat slob ought to be grateful he was getting to look at it at all. If he didn’t need to keep Brad onside for a while longer, he’d throw his lazy ass out of the car. Better still, kill him.
“You be careful with this, okay? One of those pudgy fingers of yours smears the ink and I’ll cut it off. You got that?”
Brad nodded. When they were done here, he’d take him up to that bookshop so he could get a book of his own to read. Castavet knew what he was talking about when it came to books, better than any teacher anyway.
He passed it to Brad. “Take your time,” he said.
Brad took it, squirmed his ass deeper into the seat and then opened it. He flicked over the first few pages.
“Hey, I said take your time. You have to read it, dipshit.”
Brad frowned, continuing to flick through the pages without stopping.
“Look, if you’re not going to even…”
“It’s empty,” Brad said. “The pages are
all blank.”
Paul sighed. “You forgot how to read. Is that it, Brad? You forgot your ABCs?”
“No, I mean the book is empty. Wordless.” He held it open. “See!”
Paul could clearly see words on the page. It was the chapter about how he was meant to be the law. How he was supposed to keep the town safe. How it was destined for him to become the greatest man in Silver Lake history. How statues would be erected, holidays celebrated and flags waved at the mention of the name Sheriff Paul Weaver. It was a great chapter, inspirational. The ideas behind how this would happen were detailed later in the story. His story.
“Look, man, I know you were dumb at school but you…”
Brad nodded out of the window. “Hey, look, they’re back.”
Paul grabbed the book from Brad and tucked it safely away. He’d come back to this later.
“Looks like someone went to town on Law!” Brad said. “Look at his face!”
Paul stared at the man as he climbed out of his car. His face was badly swollen all down one side, the bruising already coming through. He wondered who’d done that to him and then wished it had been him. He was sure that was how the story was supposed to run. Backstabbing teacher messes with the good cop’s girl. Good cop gets revenge on both of them. Something like that. If only she hadn’t scrawled all that crap over the last page, he’d be able to see. This way he’d have to make it up on his own.
“What now?” Brad asked.
“We wait.”
Brad sighed.
Paul gritted his teeth. What Brad didn’t know was that he would come unstuck before the end. The low-down sheriff’s deputy would not make it all the way through. The thought made him smile.
44
It was getting late. Ryan put his arm around Megan and hugged her close. They had kissed earlier. Properly. Her tongue had curled around his, pulling it deeper into his mouth. She’d clawed at the back of his head with one hand, resting her other hand on his thigh. He didn’t remember her being quite so passionate before, but that was good. She was coming around and now it was happening faster than he’d expected.
