Dastardly Bastard (23 page)

“She couldn’t. Something about the Bastard never
getting
her, is all she said.” Mark thought the statement true. He had willfully saved Lyle back on the trail. He didn’t know how Justine had crossed over, but he saw no reason for her to lie.

“The bridge looks new,” Lyle observed, running a hand through his hair.

“Think we should?” Donald asked.

“I don’t see any other choice.” Mark gazed across the expanse, saw things moving in the shadows of the cave entrance on the rock face opposite them. He knew something lived there, something he didn’t want to face. But he’d promised Justine, swore they would find her.

“It didn’t go so well for me last time, guys.” Lyle quirked a smile, but it died before fully forming. “Mom told me not to… not to go. I didn’t listen. I should have. Maybe—”

“Sorry, kid,” Donald cut in. “But fuck the maybes. We were balls deep in this shit as soon as we started this tour.”

“My stomach hurts.” Mark could tell the boy wasn’t looking for sympathy. Lyle was just stating the obvious.

Mark didn’t wait around for Lyle and Donald to follow. The bridge took his weight easily. His footing was sure as he made his way across the wooden planks, using the handholds for stability.

“Last time I followed you over the chasm, I ended up being chased by a monster,” Donald said from very close behind him. “Then, the next time I saw you,
we
were chased by a monster. I hope the pattern doesn’t keep.”

“I have the feeling we’re the ones doing the chasing now,” Lyle said from further back.

“Good point. Duly noted. But that’s kinda what scares me.”

Mark laughed.

They reached the other end of the bridge without any trouble. Mark was thinking about how easy it had been, when a figure stumbled out of the cave’s mouth.

Lyle screamed. Donald made to turn, but paused, looking at Mark for answers. Mark recognized the guy instantly.

“What
the
fuck!” Trevor bleated, falling to his knees. He looked as though he was going to be sick. “Where the hell am I?”

“Good to see you, too,” Donald said.

“Where… where’s Justine?” Trevor was shaking badly, looking at them through matted hair that clung to his forehead. “You guys look like shit.”

“You should see yourself,” Donald said.

Mark winced.

With a softer tone, Donald said, “We’re trying to find your chick. We’re here to help.”

“You guys lost her? Where? Where was the last place you saw her?”

“We’ll fill you in on the way. It’s a long story.” Mark gestured toward the cave. “What’s in there?”

“Fuck if I know. I came back stumbling out of the thing. Everything else is… is…”

“Memories? Bad ones? Yeah. We know.” Donald finished for the shaken man.

“Well, not exactly,” Trevor said, rubbing at a bloody knot on his forehead. “Damn, that fucking hurts.”

“So where were you? Some horrible BDSM memory gone all screwy? A little demonic gimp action?” Donald joked. Mark could sense the tension behind the levity, knew Donald was covering for his fear.

“We were running… the trail… the kid’s mom was… shit. I don’t know, man. Everything’s just gone. Or see-through, you know? After that, it was like an episode of
It’s Your Life
. Only—”

“
This Is Your Life
, not
it’s
.” Donald corrected. Mark gave him a look, furrowing his brow. “Sorry. Go on.”

“I got picked on a lot in junior high. I was kinda geeky, and the other kids homed in on it, but not too bad. I seemed to spend a little time there, you know, and some kids were calling me names. But it was all just trivial BS. Not scary in the least. Everything else is a blur.” Trevor stood up and dusted off his bare knees.

“Where the hell are your pants?” Mark asked. He couldn’t contain the burst of laughter that erupted after his statement.

Trevor’s cheeks went red. “I don’t know.”

“Wait,” Donald said. “Go back for a minute. Forget you’re standing there in your boxers. I wanna know if you got any horrifying visions. Broken, disturbed, surreal dream-like, night-terror type of stuff.”

“Not that I can remember.”

Mark acted on a new thought. “What’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to you? Don’t think. Just answer.”

Trevor shrugged. “That crap in junior high. Some light bullying in seventh grade. Then I got contacts and started working out. Made the track team. Everyone left me alone after that. What’s with the twenty questions?”

“You’re telling us that the worst thing that has ever happened to you is getting picked on in school?” Donald slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Lucky bastard.”

“Excuse me,” Lyle said, his voice meek. The comment was directed at Trevor.

“Yeah, little man?”

“Did you happen to see my mother in there?”

Trevor eyed Mark, and Mark shook his head.

“No. I’m sorry.”

Mark knelt in front of Lyle and put his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Justine said she didn’t make it, Lyle. I don’t think she would have said that if she wasn’t sure.”

“I know… I just… I was just hoping. You know? I saw Trevor… and I wished… I… I…” Lyle sniffled, drying his eyes on the backs of his hands.

Mark couldn’t stand to look in the boy’s eyes. The pain coming off of him was palpable. Mark had never known loss like this child was going through. He’d seen plenty of death and destruction, but was outside of the action for the most part. A spectator. He looked to Trevor for support. Mark was amazed when Donald was the one to respond.

“I gotcha, kid.” Donald walked over and patted the boy on the back. “It’s going to be a long road. But you can’t let it eat away at you. I know what it’s like to lose someone close. You just have to remember them for what they meant to you. Not how they left you.”

As far as Mark was concerned, the new Donald was far superior to the old model.

“Anybody happen to have any spare pants in their pocket?” Trevor asked.

When he saw Lyle actually laugh through his tears, Mark eased up, letting go of the boy’s shoulders.

Donald nodded toward the cave. “Guess we should see what’s in there, huh?”

“I’m scared,” Lyle said.

“Whoa. Hold up.” Trevor squinted at Mark. “I saw you fall off a cliff. I remember that. How the—”

Mark grinned. “Long story. I’ll tell you when you can explain why you’re missing your pants.”

46

JUSTINE LOOKED DOWN AT HERSELF. She wore a paisley blue dress with white socks and cute little slip-on flats with bows. Her chest was undeveloped, flat as a board. Justine figured she was around ten years old. The limousine ride seemed to quell the emotions building up in the back of her throat. The fact that Nana Penance was there soothed her even more. Her parents were in a car up ahead at the request of Justine’s grandmother. Nana Penance had wanted Justine riding with her, wanted some time alone. Justine had no idea why until her grandmother began talking.

“Watchin’ someone die, Just, is ne’er easy. Whether it be in pain, or in peace, the livin’ are left with the mem’ries the dead can’t carry with ‘em.” Nana Penance looked down at her lap, fighting tears.

“Did you watch Papa die, Nana?”

Her grandmother sat in silence as the limo took a hard curve that led to the cemetery. Justine rocked with the sway of the insanely long vehicle. The experience was awesome and morose at the same time. She’d never been in a fancy limo before. Then again, she’d never been to a funeral, either.

“Your grandpapa was a bad man, Just. He liked to have his own way about things. That’s over now. And yes, I watched him die.”

“Was it gross?”

“No.” Nana Penance started to laugh, but caught herself before it was fully birthed. “I wanted to watch. The man threw shadows. You know what that means, don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Justine thought she knew all too well. Mom had always thought she was crazy or making it up, so Justine had stopped telling her. That seemed to fix things.

“You got the sight, Just. I knows you do, ‘cause I got it, too.” Nana Penance reached out and took Justine’s knee in her large, flat palm, squeezing. “Your grandpapa didn’t always throw shadows. Remember that much about him. Remember the good things. Sometime evil just need a body to latch onto. You know what a parasite is?”

“They eat things.” Justine grimaced.

“They feed on people, baby girl. You gotta burn them off, mostly. You gotta get them to unlatch themselves. Parasites can be dastardly bastards. You just gotta know how to deal with them.”

“Papa had parasites?”

“Yes, Just. In a way, he did. But that’s over now. I took care of the bad things. He won’t hurt anyone else.”

Justine could feel the weight of those words, knew they were sound, right, bigger and stronger than she could ever hope to be.

Sunlight died as it came through the tinted windows of the limo. Dust motes danced in their rays, swirling around like waltzing folk.

“You ever see me throwing shadows, Just…” Nana Penance gripped Justine’s kneecap, digging fingers into her skin. “You make them go away. You understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Justine winced at the pain in her leg.

“Do you see them on me now?”

Justine didn’t want to look up from her leg. She knew she would see something. If it wasn’t shadows, then it would be anger. Justine didn’t want to see either one. She continued to stare at Nana Penance’s knuckles, straining pink where brown flesh creased over them. She focused on that hand. Willed herself not to look up. Couldn’t let herself see anything but love in her grandmother’s eyes.

Finally, Nana Penance released her death grip. Her hand patted Justine on the thigh, moving away after two taps.

“Best you don’t look. Best you don’t never see that on me. Them shadows, they’re contagious, Just. They infect you if’n you ain’t careful. Yep. Best not to look. Best.” Nana Penance didn’t say another word until they were graveside.

~ * * * ~

Justine fought to stay upright. The Bastard pulled her along, her puppeteer not used to her body. She stumbled several times, skinning her knees on the cobblestone steps. Justine had let him invade her. She was at his behest, completely.

The trek through Rifle Park was a test of every part of her. When she thought she could go on no further, the Bastard would yank her on, throwing her forward.

Once she was back on the main street, Justine tried to focus on the ground beneath her, but it kept falling away. With every step she took, the world came apart. She was certain the Bastard was destroying everything he touched, ripping apart the place Scott had created.

A thick black poured from her. She could see it dripping, possibly from her face, but most likely from her very eyes. It occurred to her that she was Throwing Shadows. No. Not Throwing. She was past that. Justine was making them.

“Nana,” she tried, but the word came out sounding far away, more like a thought than an audible call.

“Focus, child.” The Bastard threw her forward, and she collapsed. “Get up. We’ve not far to go. Just there.”

Her head was wrenched upward. They had made it. Waverly Fairchild’s mansion was on the left, almost complete. Soon it would revert back to a crumbling façade, and the process would start all over again.

Scott stood in the entryway, not waving, not calling them in, but looking terrified as he watched them approach.

Tread, if you dare, through his one-eyed stare. This Dastardly Bastard is neither here, nor there.

~ * * * ~

“What happened to Papa? Why’d the shadows get him?” Justine looked up at her grandmother’s crying form, taking the woman’s hand in her own.

“Something bad happened to a friend of his. He ran away from it. Papa chose his path and let them snatch him up.”

“That’s sad.”

“Yes, Just, it is.”

“Did he die in pain?”

“Yes, baby girl. He did.”

They were whispering, not a single person paying them any mind. Justine’s mother was too busy with her own tears to even realize what was being said to her daughter right next to her.

“How’d you make the shadows go away?”

“By force. It’s always by force. They don’t want to leave. They need us, Just. They need to be sustained.”

“What are they?”

“They are us. The bad, nasty parts, anyway. Mostly, they’re the mem’ries we’ve chosen to let fester. The secrets we hide from the world, all rotten and decayed.”

“Our memories can hurt us?”

“More than you know, baby girl. More than you will ever know.”

~ * * * ~

Justine was squeezing something in her hands. It felt soft and spongy. She could hear rasping, could feel nails being scratched down her forearms.

“Yes! Yes, child!”

~ * * * ~

“He’s making you do it, baby girl. He’s lied to you.”

“I know. It’s the only way.”

“Your grandpapa went like this. He was begging when I made the shadows leave. They gave him power. But there’s only one place the mem’ries cannot find us. Death.”

~ * * * ~

Scott’s eye bulged as Justine dug her thumbs into his throat. The Bastard was turning the crank, making her bear down harder. The boy’s eye filled with the realization that it was finally over. His arms fell away from Justine, ceasing in their battle to stop her. Scott nodded slightly. He reached with a trembling hand and brushed hair out of her face.

What she was doing was horrible, inconceivable, but she didn’t stop. There was no way to stop. The Bastard had complete control.