Another Little Piece (16 page)

“But I do want to come. Please, Dex. The mom . . . My parents are gone. At the hospital. I don’t know when they’ll be back and I don’t want to be alone anymore. Please, I’ll stay in the car. It’s not like I’m dressed for it anyway.” I offered my bare foot as evidence.

He cursed softly and then was out of the car, lifting me off the ground, into his arms.

“Dex,” I said, thinking he was going to carry me back into the house. But before I could add another
please
, he was opening the passenger-side door and sliding me in. He shrugged out of the long black trench coat that had been wrapped around his thin frame and laid it over my shoulders, tucking it around my sides before pulling the seat belt across me.

“Thank you,” I whispered a moment later as Dex clicked his own seat belt into place.

He shook his head. “Let’s save the thank-yous for now. You might—” Another shake. This one harder.

Instead of finishing his sentence, he put the car into drive and we began to move up the long, quiet street. Beneath us the muffler wheezed and rattled, mostly drowning out the talk radio station’s quiet conversation. The car had clearly seen better days, but with the heat pumping warm and steady at my feet and the steering wheel moving smoothly beneath Dex’s hands, I didn’t mind in the least.

I stared straight ahead, watching the headlights slice through the darkness. We bounced along narrow back roads, nearly deserted except for the sporadic car that sped past us with its high beams blazing and blinding. I began to think that Dex had no destination at all. That he was driving in an attempt to chase away the long, lonely hours of the night. Maybe this was part of the secrets he had hinted at the other day. But even as this crossed my mind, Dex had started to pull onto the shoulder of the road, easing us to a stop.

He took a deep breath before letting his hands fall from the steering wheel and into his lap. “We’re almost there. But first, I feel like I should tell you something about why we’re out here in the middle of the night. So the question is: How much do you want to know?”

Nothing. Everything. Those were the two responses that first came to mind. Each of them equally selfish in their different ways. Instead, I decided to answer the way that I thought Dex would if I asked him the same question.

“As much as you want to tell me.”

“Okay then.” Dex nodded and smiled, and I knew I’d said the right thing. Reaching into the backseat, he grabbed hold of a flashlight and handed it to me. “Then the first thing you need to know is that country roads are the darkest places on the planet.”

“The darkest? Really? Darker than the middle of a forest or an underground cave?”

“Well, no. But notice I didn’t say ‘
literally
the darkest place on the planet.’ The use of
literally
would have made hyperbole verboten.”

“Verboten?” I clicked on the flashlight so Dex could see my raised right eyebrow. It was a neat trick I’d recently discovered while brushing my teeth.

Dex raised his own right eyebrow back at me. “It’s a German word. Means ‘forbidden.’ Most good things are.”

“German or forbidden? No, wait.” I shook my head. “Don’t tell me. Let’s preserve the mystery.”

Dex nodded. “Agreed. Although, if you ever saw how much bratwurst I can pack away, that case would be quickly solved. But let’s move away from these sidetracks and back onto dark country roads.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.” I saluted with the flashlight, knowing I was being silly and not caring. I was also smiling too big, laughing too loud, and finding excuses every two seconds to let my hand brush against his leg, his hand, his arm. I felt punch-drunk from a combination of sleep deprivation and the tingly memory of the last time I’d seen Dex.

As if reading my mind, Dex leaned in and kissed me. The flashlight fell from my hands, but before I could kiss him back, he was already pulling away.

“Sorry, we shouldn’t. Not here.” Dex mumbled the words, avoiding my eyes as he reached down to pick up the flashlight. He pressed it back into my hands, gently. “You’re gonna want to keep this handy. We’re looking for a rusty old mailbox, but then again, most of the mailboxes out here are old and rusty. The one we want, though, has a few other unique characteristics. The door on it doesn’t close all the way, and it sits on a squared-off piece of wood. 1306. That’s the number on the side of the box. Black numbers printed on white stickers. And there’s a drawing of a shark trying to eat the numbers. Or maybe bite them. Or kiss them. It’s not a very good drawing.” There was a flash of a smile, but then Dex was back in serious mission mode. “I need you to shine the flashlight out as we drive by and let me know when you see it. I think it’s the fifth or sixth one coming up, but I can never remember which one exactly . . . thus the flashlight. Once we find it, I’m gonna leave a letter in that mailbox, and . . .” Dex shrugged. “That’s it really.”

Gripping the flashlight with two hands, I flicked it on and then pointed the beam out my window. “Let’s do it.”

Dex stared at me for a minute and I thought he was going to say something else, but he put his hands on the steering wheel and we were on the road once more. The mailboxes hung near the edge of the road, beside driveways that disappeared into a tangled wall of trees. Supposedly there were houses on the other ends of those driveways, but most of them were set so far back you couldn’t see any hint of them from the street.

My flashlight illuminated three different mailboxes before I found the right one. I saw the numbers first, their white backing almost making them glow. Triangle-shaped teeth slashed through the white edges, and from those teeth grew the gigantic shark that seemed to be attempting to swallow the mailbox whole.

It was exactly as Dex had described. Except for one thing. The sense of menace. How a dilapidated mailbox covered in graffiti could convey that sense, I couldn’t say. But I felt it. I could almost smell it too, seeping into the car, the sickly sweet smell of decay.

“Dex,” I whispered. “This is it.”

The car jerked to a stop, and Dex leaned in to see the mailbox too. “Yeah,” he answered, also whispering. “That’s it.”

I held out my hand, wanting to get this over with and leave as quickly as possible. “Give me the letter. I can reach out and pop it in.”

Dex shook his head. “Thanks, but it’s kinda one of those things I need to do myself.” He pressed against me and I thought he wanted to check once more that it was the right place, but this time his lips brushed my cheek. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here too.” And I was. Although I would be even happier when it was time to leave this place. I could almost feel that mailbox throbbing at my back. I grabbed Dex’s hand and gave it a tight squeeze, feeling oddly worried for him. “Good luck.”

I watched anxiously as he crossed in front of the car, cutting through the headlight beams. Then he was beside my door, between the mailbox and me. I saw the letter, bright white in his hand as he lifted it, and then it was flying into the air, detached from Dex, whose body slammed into my door. Once. Twice. The third time Dex crumpled, and that’s when I saw the man.

He stood over Dex, his face hard and twisted, and oddly gleeful as well, while his fists slammed into Dex’s stomach again and again and again. Finally, he let Dex fall at his feet. With a grin, he kicked him. I tried to scream, but all that came out was a tiny squeak of despair. The man grabbed the back of Dex’s shirt and hauled him up, only to fling him against the hood of the car. Dex’s eyes, wide and scared, stared at me through the windshield; then the man grabbed him again, flipping him up and over. Full of menace, he glared at Dex. Then, with slow deliberation, he reached down to wrap his hands around Dex’s throat.

“I got you, you little shit. Leaving me these letters. Trying to scare me. Weren’t ya? Well, who’s scared now? Who’s scared now?”

My vocal cords finally functioned again. “Dex!” The word came tearing out of me. At the same time I lunged across the front seat. Dex’s coat tangled around my legs and I kicked it away while I punched the horn wildly. It was enough to startle the man. Enough for him to loosen his grip on Dex and let him take a choking breath. It was also enough to turn his attention to me.

Our eyes met. His were dark and oily. I pressed the horn again, a long, low bleat of distress. Those horrible eyes narrowed. Releasing Dex, he turned, reaching for the passenger door. His hand reaching in through the open window. I stomped on the gas. The engine roared, but we didn’t move. Fingers brushed my shoulder as I jerked the car into drive, and then we shot forward. Maybe my false start had given Dex some warning of what I was going to do, because he managed to hold on as we went careening down the dark road.

I kept going long enough to make sure the horrible man was far behind us. Finally pulling the car to the side of the road, I flung the door open and ran to Dex.

“Anna,” he said. He slid from the hood and onto the ground in front of my feet. “I’m sorry.”

“No time,” I said shortly. Grabbing hold of him, I half carried, half dragged him to the passenger side of the car and dropped him in. His legs still hung out, and I quickly folded them in before slamming the door shut. Then I was back in the car and we were flying down the road once more. I drove too fast, still feeling like we were being chased. I didn’t ease up on the gas until we reached a small town. Old-fashioned streetlights lined the road on both sides and chased the deep, inky darkness away.

Taking my first full breath since the man had appeared, I slowed the car and pulled into an empty parking lot behind a bank. We sat there for a while, both of us struggling to breathe as if that man’s hands had been around both of our throats.

Finally, I turned to Dex. He looked horrible. Shrunken and broken.

“Dex.” I reached toward him but didn’t actually touch him, not wanting to hurt him further. “Are you okay? Do you need a doctor? Or the hospital? Or—”

“No,” Dex answered quickly, his voice raspy. “I’m hurting right now, but it’s nothing a little ibuprofen won’t cure.”

“Okay,” I said, and then, even though I’d told him that he only had to share what he wanted to, I couldn’t help asking, “Who was that man?”

He coughed and then looked up at me. “Kenneth Ray Jr. That’s his name, I think. It’s what I found on my internet searches. The real question, though, is: What is he?”

“Okay, what is he?”

“He’s a monster. He . . .” Dex turned to me, and his eyes glimmered with unshed tears. “You might not believe me. I don’t have any proof, but I know because . . . because sometimes I just know things. He takes kids. Little girls. I don’t know how many. There’s one he wants to take but hasn’t yet, and I thought if he was scared, if he thought someone was watching him, then maybe he’d leave her alone. I wanted to save her. Be some kind of hero. Save her from—”

I threw my arms around Dex, cutting him off. Not wanting to hear any more. A monster who took girls. It sounded horrible. And all too familiar.

Dex hugged me back and I shuddered, scared that Dex might somehow know things about me too.

“You okay?” He didn’t whisper, but merely breathed the words softly against my skin.

I wanted to tell him no. I wanted him to see that I needed saving too. That I wanted him to be some kind of hero for me. I kissed him instead. It was meant to be soft and tender. Comforting. But Dex’s lips parted beneath mine, pulling me in deeper. It wasn’t comfort he wanted. Dex was drowning. But I wasn’t his lifesaver. And he knew it. I was someone to sink with.

I went willingly.

When it was over, his lips pressed against my forehead, so that I felt his next words before he said them.

“I’m a fuck-up.”

I jerked away. Wanting to see his eyes. And wanting him to see my own, and the truth in them. “No.”

Dex’s hands fluttered up toward me. His fingertips swept across my forehead, tracing my eyebrows, and then trailed downward, until his palms gently cupped my jaw and framed my face. It was the sort of thing you did when you hadn’t seen someone in a long time, or were planning not to see them again.

“No,” I said again, meaning something different this time. Meaning,
Stop. Don’t say what you’re going to say. I can live without your secrets if you can live without mine.

Except I could see that he desperately needed to tell his secret. To make it my secret too. And I realized that I’d been wrong before when I’d thought he wanted to tell me his secrets because he saw me as trustworthy. It wasn’t that at all. He wanted to tell me because he thought I was strong enough to hear them. And I wanted to be strong. I wanted to be the kind of girl who had all the best adjectives attached to her name. Strong and good and honorable and all the rest. But right now I would settle for strong.

So I shut my mouth and let Dex talk.

“I see death. I see people die. How and where and why. I see it every day. And usually I can’t do anything to stop it. Usually I don’t even try. Sometimes it’s not horrible. Sometimes it really is just someone’s time and it can be quiet and peaceful and . . . it still makes your heart ache, but in the way it does when you see the sun rising on a cold winter morning, pushing its way up above the bare tree branches, and you try to capture it on camera, but it’s not the same, it doesn’t—it can never—do it justice. And that’s okay, because it’s not meant to be held on to forever. It’s only there for that moment.”

Dex’s index finger slid across my cheek, wiping a tear away. But there were more coming, and he couldn’t catch them all. Still he kept trying, even as he continued to talk.

“Other times it’s disease or bad timing, and it’s wrong and unfair, and you wish there was some kind of appeal system. The whole thing feels cruel and random, and you start praying because you have to believe there’s a bigger plan, a bigger something happening that’s too much for our small minds to understand. You believe this or you kill yourself. So, I work very hard at believing, and some days it’s more work than others.”

I could barely see Dex through the ocean pouring from my eyes, but I heard his sigh and knew the worst of it was yet to come.