Dastardly Bastard (21 page)

“You were good man.”

“No. I wasn’t. I was worthless.”

“You worth something to me. Worth a lot.” She reached for his hand and her touch warmed him, far better than the cold fingers she had wrapped around his neck. Loads better.

“I let them take you from me.”

She waved her hand in a flippant gesture that took Donald off guard.

“That not what happened, silly man. You know that. You try to save me.”

Donald didn’t want to relive it again, but that didn’t stop the visions from coming back.

The prior memory had been a fallacy. Whoever was playing with him had changed things. He just didn’t know which reality to believe. They both seemed so terribly real. And they both had the same outcome.

Sunne was dead. That was a fact. But maybe, just maybe, Donald hadn’t been so useless. Maybe he had done more. Sure, he had. He’d
become
the person he was, the cynical lout who scared people for money. When Sunne had come into his life, he hadn’t been that man. Something festered after Sunne died, growing more powerful, feeding on him, hollowing him out.

He had to be sure. He had to know what had really happened.

Donald closed his eyes, “Show me, Sunne.”

He was outside of his body, hovering above the situation as everything unfolded. He watched himself bolt for the alleyway, intent on saving Sunne. The yellow glow of the streetlight running the length of the alley showed Lazy-Eye working at Sunne. The thug was between her legs, tearing clothes, unzipping his pants, grunting like a feral animal.

Donald fought with every bit of his being, beating Lazy-Eye about the back of his head. Meat on meat sounds echoed through the narrow passage. Donald was winning, pulling Lazy-Eye off and away. Sunne was getting up, gathering her torn clothes, trying to cover herself.

“Get back here, midget!” Scar-Lip growled into the cavernous alley. Donald saw the flash of the switchblade, just as his false memory had shown.

Scar-Lip grabbed Sunne by her arm. Twirling her against him, the thug laid the knife against her neck, and jerked away quickly. Flesh opened. Blood spilled. Sunne collapsed, hands going to her wound.

Lazy-Eye wrestled Donald over, crushing him under his weight. Scar-Lip moved in, jabbing with the knife.

Then, the boy at the end of the alley screamed, “Cops!”

Donald crawled to Sunne’s bleeding form. He mumbled gibberish through flowing tears. He tried to close the wound, applying pressure, screaming, “Somebody help. Please help!” There would be no one. The kid had lied about the cops for whatever reason. Maybe he’d just been scared.

More people lived in Manhattan than any other city in the entire United States. But at that moment, in that dark alleyway, Donald and Sunne were alone. Until she, too, left him.

Donald opened his eyes.

“You tried.” Sunne said as she brushed his cheek. “You were brave. You remember that.”

“I miss you. I miss you so goddamn much, Sunne. Everything changed after they took you from me. I was hollow. Empty.” Donald sobbed. He hadn’t wept so hard since that tragic night. He hadn’t let himself. “There’s nothing left in here.” Donald punched his chest directly over his heart. “Nothing!”

“I’m in there. Plenty of room. Such a small man. Such big heart.”

“I don’t want to leave. I want to stay right here. Right inside this memory. Right here with you.” Donald leaned forward, meeting Sunne’s forehead with his own.

She kissed his nose lightly. “You can’t.”

“Why not? Let this… this… whatever it is win. Let it. I don’t care anymore. I just want you back. I’m nothing without you, Sunne. All the money, all the recognition… nothing but a load of bullshit. You’re… you’re all I ever wanted… all I ever
needed
.”

“You so much more. On the inside. Replace that hole. Fill it with happy memories. We had good ones. Right?”

“Yeah… yes.”

“Remember those. The good ones. I will be there. In them.”

“Don’t go.” Donald ran his fingers through her hair and came away with a clump in his hand.

“Remember the good…” Sunne was coming apart, turning to dust before his eyes.

“No! Damn it! Give her back!”

He closed his eyes. He couldn’t take it. His chest hurt. Something in there was breaking all over again.

Warmth poured over him, calming his trembling body. He imagined Sunne covering him with a blanket, caressing his cheek, whispering that everything was going to be all right. She wasn’t gone, not as long as he remembered. The memories
should
remain. They were all he had left of her. He could rebuild her image with that, whenever he wanted. The bad could be defeated by the good. It was a basic hope. No matter what evils were present in the world, the good should always outweigh the bad.

He had to believe. If not for him, then for Sunne. She deserved to be a good memory.

When he opened his eyes again, he was sitting on the floor of a bedroom. Tubby—no, the man’s name was Mark—stood in the doorway, looking down at him and smiling.

“You all right, Donald?”

“I am now.”

“You ready to find this son of a bitch and get out of here?”

“What about the monster outside?” Donald realized at that moment that he’d defeated a monster of his own, the one inside himself.

“That thing?” Mark waved his hand casually. “Some friends of mine handled it.”

Donald couldn’t help but laugh. “Good ones?”

“Yeah. They’re a lot stronger than I thought.”

Donald pushed himself up off the floor and dusted off his shirt. “Enough of the mushy shit. You ready to end this?”

Mark smiled until the corners of his cheeks all but covered his eyes. “You’re damn skippy!”

THE LIAR’S LAIR

40

JUSTINE KNEW SHE WAS THE key. If she had never gone to that damn chasm, none of the recent events would have happened. The Bastard needed her. Whether Scott’s power was wearing thin, or it just needed her to reach further out into the world, she didn’t know.

Time was seeping in. The great room was starting to crumble like the rest of the house.

“We have to get out of here.” She grabbed Scott’s hand. It was scalding hot. She screamed, tearing her hand away. Her palm was left smoking.

“He won’t let me leave here. I have my memories, my safe places, and a part of me doesn’t want to leave, either.”

“You can’t just stay here,” Lyle blurted. “He’s using you.”

“My time is gone out there. I have nothing to go back to. I’m afraid you have been left behind, as well.” Scott went to the fireplace and stoked the embers. Flame crawled the length of the poker and slithered up his arm, covering his shoulder and head.

Justine wanted to react, but couldn’t. Lyle was trying, but she felt herself holding him back. It had to happen. Everything would repeat, and Scott would be born from the ashes of himself again and again like a phoenix. As they turned and left, Scott was swallowed whole by the fire.

The house fell. They were protected by an unseen force while boards and plaster crashed around them, turning to dust. When they hit the sidewalk outside, Justine turned and watched as the house began construction again. Invisible hands erected the wooden frame, while others toiled away at covering them. Lyle’s palm was slick in her own, hot, and she finally released it. They looked at each other, silent. Justine chanced a glance back to the house, unsure what to expect, and saw Scott standing in the unfinished doorway once again, waving them inside.

“In here!” he called.

“There’s no way to save him?” Lyle’s voice was filled with broken emotion.

Justine shook her head, wiping a tear from her eye before it could fall.

Back the way they’d run from the monster made of their fallen friends and family, Donald and Mark came out of a house. Justine wondered why they looked so damn happy. Their apparent joy angered her briefly. Then, she realized the two had no way of knowing what she’d just seen, the revelations Scott had provided. In turn, Justine had no idea what they had been through, either.

The monster was gone. How they had beaten it,
if
they had beaten it, was a mystery. All that remained was the path the thing had taken. Cracks in the pavement showed clearly like a trail of breadcrumbs.

Donald grinned as he strolled up to her and Lyle. “We gotta quit meeting like this.”

“Where to now?” Mark asked, stuffing his wide hands into his pants pockets.

“We backtrack,” Justine said. “Maybe it will lead us somewhere.”

She half-expected Donald to say something like, “Yeah, to our deaths,” or “Are you crazy?” but he didn’t. He acquiesced with a single nod of his head. A light shone in his eyes, a bright quality that hadn’t been there before. The sight warmed her a little.

“Onward, wayward soldier.” Mark hitched up his pants.

Justine was reminded of Trevor and how he could never get his own pants to stay where he put them. She twirled the ring on her finger and said a silent “I love you.”

Nothing was chasing them, so a stroll seemed to be in order. Justine had no way of telling how much time had actually passed, but she was sure of one thing. She was damn tired. Her bones ached, and her legs burned. She just hoped that she would have the strength to deal with the Bastard when they finally caught up with him.

“We’re going to find your man, Justine,” Donald said out of the blue. Nothing had spurred it. She’d only been walking, keeping her thoughts to herself.

“What makes you say that?”

“You don’t think so?” Mark asked. He was still smiling.

“I didn’t say that. I just think whatever happens is going to happen at this point.”

“Not a very positive outlook, chicklet,” Donald said.

Justine stopped. “What happened to you? Suddenly you’re Mr. Optimist? I don’t get it.”

“I came to grips with some things back in that house. Whatever realm or way station that was, I needed it. Sunne’s dead and gone. But she’s alive and well up here.” Donald tapped his temple. “And in here.” He moved his hand to his chest.

“It’s all about the memories, Justine. All of this.” Mark held his arms out to his sides, motioning toward the houses, the approaching tree line, and the street. “Even this place. It’s all just a memory. Whose? I don’t know yet.”

“Scooter’s. It’s
his
mind we’re in.” Lyle spoke in a monotone. All emotion had left his face. He seemed to be considering something. “Look. I know this sounds crazy, but we’re somewhere that isn’t
here
.”

“We already figured that part out, kid.” Donald laughed. “Sorry. Still trying on this new skin. Hard not to be a jerk when you’ve practiced the role for twenty-some-odd years.”

“Donald’s right, though. So are you, Lyle,” Mark assured them. “We’re not here. How we get back into ourselves, I have no idea. But we have more control over things than this… this
Bastard
wants us to know. I used my memories, an entire freaking army of them, to destroy that monster. I can’t speak for Donald, but I think he vanquished some shit he was dealing with, also.”

“We still have to find Him. We don’t even know what He looks like.”

“Wait!” Lyle yelled, causing the entire group to jump. “Yes! Yes we do!”

41

LYLE DUG INTO HIS POCKET, hunting something from memory. He pulled out the cell phone a second later, laughing.

“We all saw it. Saw it clear as day!” Lyle unlocked the phone and began cycling through the picture messages. He stopped on the one of the shadow creeping over the edge of the chasm onto the trail. “See?”

Everyone gathered around the phone. Lyle saw quizzical stares, shocked expressions, and vague understanding on their faces.

“What the fuck?” Mark scratched his head. “That from my camera?”

“
We
thought so. I’m tired of asking how stuff happened. I’m just going with the flow now.” Justine actually laughed.

“I haven’t seen those,” Mark said.

“We found them right about the time you disappeared.” Justine filled Mark in on his vanishing act. Lyle saw some recollection in the big guy’s eyes, but nothing concrete.

“Okay. But how do we use this information?” Mark finally asked.

“He showed himself.” Justine looked as if she was fighting for understanding. The more she talked, the more pieces fell into place. Lyle felt his pulse quicken, “It was his first contact with us. He wasn’t concerned with being caught. He had no idea we’d be able to fight back. Ever since that moment… ever since then, I…”

“Come on, chick!” Donald pushed. Lyle wanted to know just as bad.

“I haven’t seen a single shadow!” Justine exploded. She clapped her hands together. “That’s when it started. That’s where we are, stuck in that moment, that second of time. I just know it!”

“How do we use that information to get back?” Mark asked.

“I don’t think we have to.” Donald held up a hand in front of his face. Lyle could see right through it. “I think just the memory is sufficient.”

“What happened? What happened in that exact moment, Lyle?” Justine looked to him, pleading with her eyes.

“Donald called Jaleel the N-word. It started there.”

“Whoa, kids. I don’t feel too hot.” Donald was becoming less tangible as the conversation progressed.

“Then, it jumped to my… my mother.” Lyle cringed, letting the bad memory surface so he could use it. Hope resided in there somewhere. He just had to find it. “Mom started yelling at me, telling me that I was the reason dad died.”

“Shit!” Donald yelled, just before he winked out of existence completely.

“Well, that worked like gangbusters.” Mark chuckled. “You’re next, Lyle. Look.”

Lyle looked down at his hands. He was a ghost. He stared through his cell phone to the asphalt. He couldn’t help but giggle. “Cool.”

“You went away after that,” Mark continued the story. “You ran for the cliff. Took off like a bat out of hell. That’s when I dropped the camera. I went to save you.”

Lyle could feel his feet leaving the ground. He tried to wave to Justine and Mark, tried to say goodbye, but he was already traveling. Already gone.