The Boy in the Tunnel

by Gardner Linn

 

46.

 

Kenya only sort of vaguely recognized the girl who stepped out of the LeSabre, a short girl with black hair and a flannel shirt. Probably met her at a party. Who can remember.

                 

ÒKenya you have to help,Ó said the girl, her voice wet and cracking. Kenya tentatively stepped further into the cone of light thrown by the LeSabreÕs headlights.

                 

                  ÒWhat—whatÕs going on?Ó Kenya said.

                 

                  ÒItÕs Xander, heÕs—I donÕt know, heÕs ODing or something.Ó

                 

Kenya took another step. She could see the girlÕs face was smudged by runny mascara. ÒHow do you know my name?Ó

                 

ÒKenya itÕs—IÕm Audrey. JoanieÕs friend. Please. You have to help. I think heÕs dying or...oh my god...Ó         

                 

Kenya stepped out of the light, to the side of the car next to Audrey. Through the open door she could make out what looked like two vampires in the back seat, two pale glowing faces floating in black. The female stroked the sweat-slick forehead of the male one, who breathed in shallow gasps through pitch-stained lips.

                 

ÒHe had this like black goo coming out of his mouth so we were driving him to the hospital and then he started freaking out and we had to stop just to get him to calm down but I think heÕs going to die oh god heÕs going to die Kenya you have to help you have to—Ò

                 

Kenya had seen this kind of thing before, freshman year. Somebody always got greedy, took more than they could handle. They learned soon enough that itÕs not a right, but a privilege. A tool, not a toy. ÒWho gave him the gunpowder?Ó she asked.

 

                  *****

 

Owen Bean swung the Taurus into the parking lot and slammed to a stop in front of the emergency room entrance. ÒGet him out and inside and IÕll park and meet you in there.Ó

                 

ÒThe hell, Owen Bean.Ó Taylor took another swig from his flask. ÒThis is strictly a UPS-type situation. We deliver the package and get the hell on out of here. No signature required.Ó

                 

ÒWe canÕt just dump Dave here! ThatÕs...Ó O.B. searched for the word that would best communicate his incredulity. ÒThatÕs unreasonable.Ó

                 

ÒYo, listen, Owen Bean, you want to do whatever you think is reasonable, you go right ahead, but I got strict instructions not to show my face anywhere near anybody all zonked out on goofy juice in an emergency room. There would be consequences.Ó

                 

                  ÒAvery told you that?Ó

                 

ÒI serve a higher power than the SecEx, Owen Bean.Ó Taylor pointed to the gothic H engraved on his flask. ÒWe got appearances to uphold.Ó

                 

                  ÒFuck your appearances. HeÕs our Sergeant-at-Arms.Ó

                 

ÒYeah, and right now he thinks heÕs Cobra Commander and youÕre a frickinÕ Frag Viper,Ó said Taylor. ÒWho may or may not be his deadbeat daddy. So it ainÕt like heÕs gonna remember Owen Bean being any part of this little adventure, whether you dump him on the doorstep or sit next to his bed holding his hand all night.Ó

                 

In the backseat, Dave was chewing on his bloody tie and muttering about the Arashikage Clan. His hands shook—his whole body trembled with a chill only he could feel. ÒHe killed Hard Master, Dad,Ó he said. ÒRevenge is my teacher now.Ó

                 

                  O.B. held out his hand to Taylor. ÒLet me have a sip of that.Ó

                 

ÒYeah, Owen Bean. There you go.Ó Taylor handed over the flask, and O.B. took a long pull. It really was the Sigma Chai, he discovered, way too sweet for something coming out of a flask. Taylor really was a total pussy.

                 

O.B. threw the Taurus in park but left the keys in as he opened the door, setting off the door-ajar alarm. ÒIt was him! It was Zartan all along!Ó said Dave, brought back to manic life by the ringing of the alarm. ÒFlies in the shape of a man. He changes, Dad! He is a shapeshifter! The flies are pixels, rearranging—a new face every second.Ó

                 

O.B. opened the back door and grabbed Dave by the lapels of his blazer. Taylor turned around in his seat to watch, grinning. ÒSorry, Dave,Ó Taylor said. ÒSerpentorÕs orders. YouÕre going to see Dr. Mindbender!Ó

                 

O.B. dragged Dave out of the back seat onto the asphalt and Dave opened his mouth and let out a howl like a wild beast baying to the sky, to whatever black thing it worships, and he howled as the Taurus sputtered away, and he howled to let whatever was waiting for him know that he would be there soon.

 

 

 

                       

© 2009 Gardner Linn