Dastardly Bastard (8 page)

“Shhhh!” the form hissed. “Whisper, if you absolutely have to talk.”

“Where am I?”

“Look around. Just don’t make it obvious that we’re talking.”

Jaleel steeled himself and surveyed the area. In front of him, at the guard wire, stood Donald. He remembered the little man vaguely, but had forgotten something important about him. Over to the left was—
what was her name? Oh, yeah
—Marsha, the cell phone kid’s mother. Under her kneeling form, the boy lay in a fetal position, his arms wrapped around his shins. Further up the pathway, Trevor was petting Justine’s hair in long motions, caressing her back with his other hand.

“What happened?”

“You went crazy. Hell,
everyone
went crazy. The fat guy with the camera went over the edge.” The figure whistled the sound of a dropping bomb. “Ker-splat!”

“Went over the side? He’s
dead
?”

“Yepper-rooney, Looney.” The form shifted as if blown by a breeze, then hummed a tune Jaleel found hauntingly familiar.

“Who are you?” Jaleel was starting to raise from his stupor enough to realize he wasn’t truly talking to himself.

“You don’t recognize me? You remember all these lay-abouts, and not me? I must say, silly goose, I’m hurt.” It shook its wispy head. Trails of pink and blue matter drifted away like so much sparkly dandruff.

“I can’t…” Jaleel slapped a palm to his forehead in frustration. “Wake up, brother. Just wake up.”

“
Id
, you stupid bastard. I’m Id! I’m you at your base level. B2, the elevator stops here, boss.
Toot, toot
!”

“Now I know I’ve lost it.” Jaleel shook his head in a feeble attempt to clear it.

“Look, you’re crazy. Nutso. Not playing with a full deck. Off your meds. Certifiably FUBARed. You following me? Or should I ask, are
you
following
you
?”

“But I’m not talking to myself.” Jaleel ran a hand over his tight black curls. “I mean… I can
see
you.”

“You see a delusional projection of your inner mind. Weird, huh?” Id smiled.

“But crazy people don’t know they’re crazy. It just don’t work like that. There’s some other explanation.”

“There’s a first time for everything.” Id shimmered, sparkling bits exploding off its form like fireworks in a night sky. “Look, we don’t have time for this getting-to-know-yourself, twelve-step, hootenanny bullshit. You have to be very careful how you proceed with these guys. They aren’t gonna understand what just happened to you. After all, you were just pirouetting around spouting off poetry that just up and popped into your gray matter. So excuse me for saying, but I wouldn’t trust your ass as far as I can throw you. But throwing oneself can be a tricky venture if not—”

“Id!” Jaleel hissed, trying to get himself back on track. The thought made his head hurt.

“Right. Well, calm down. You do tend to get carried away from time to time, so you can only imagine I suffer from the same what-ails-you, as it were, respectfully.” Id floated to the left, cutting off Jaleel’s line of sight to everyone but the small man. “Truth is, there’s some bad voodoo in them thar hills, and you can’t trust anyone. Yeah, so you’re crazy. Call up Britney Spears, shave your head, and have a dinner date with the Mad Effing Hatter for all I care. But all that’s for later. Right now, I take over, and you listen to yourself for once. Clear?”

“Why should I listen to you, if you’re me? Wouldn’t that be like getting in a car with a drunk?”

“You’ll listen to me because I don’t want you dead. You die, and it’s bye-bye for Id. You dig? What you wanna do is act as normal as your effed-up little brain will allow. I know, I know, easier said than done. But I promise, I have the most honest intentions out of this entire gaggle of batshit crazy geese we’ve wound up with.”

Jaleel sighed. “What do
I
want
me
to do?”

“Good. Finally listening to reason. I knew, deep down, you weren’t so bad. Kinda take after me in a way.” Id waved, and more pinkish-blue sparkles scattered like fleeing fireflies. “So, this is what you’re gonna do…”

16

MARSHA LAKE KNELT BESIDE HER son, placing a hand against his cheek. She’d seen the look of sheer horror in his eyes after everything went black. When she came back into herself, Lyle had stared at her in terror. It was a moment she would never forget, or ever want to relive. Her only child, trembling, scared to death because she had… done something.

But what had she done?

She remembered the little guy calling Jaleel the N-word. Marsha recalled trying to tell Lyle to be quiet, that it wasn’t his place to say anything, just none of his business. And that was it. The next thing she knew, Lyle looked like a deer caught in headlights. She believed, in that instant, if Lyle had had the gear, he would have climbed the rock face just to get away from her.

What the hell did you do?
She willed her mind to clear away the fog it currently resided in. She fought to pull her memories to the surface, but nothing worked. They were just
gone
.

Brrrrr… brrrrr… brrrrr…

The noise was sudden, too loud, but she had no idea where it was coming from. It seemed to be all around her—in the chasm, above her, coming from the couple at the wall, rising from the form of the tour guide as he talked to someone… someone who wasn’t there.

Jaleel stopped his monologue, meeting Marsha’s eye. “We need to find help,” the tour guide said, pushing himself to his feet.

“The… the camera guy… the big guy is…” Justine stammered, her voice full of emotions, face covered in renegade tears.

“I know.” The guide’s voice was somber. “That’s why we need to get help.”

“What the hell happened to you?” That was Trevor, voice calmer than he looked. He left his girlfriend to confront Jaleel. Marsha worried a fight might break out.

“I don’t remember,” Jaleel admitted. His face was honest, concerned. From what Marsha could gather, he was telling the truth.

Brrrrr… brrrrr… brrrrr…

What is that?

“You aren’t getting off that easy. My girl’s a wreck. We got a kid that wants to kill himself and a dead fat guy. What
the fuck
happened?” Trevor growled, his teeth clenched.

“Baby,” Justine pleaded, coming to her boyfriend’s side.

“I can’t remem—”

“Fuck you, man! You tell us—”

“He’s telling the truth,” Marsha finally said. Everyone stopped and looked down at her. Trevor’s eyes were filled with anger, Jaleel’s, curiosity. Justine only nodded.

Brrrrr… brrrrr… brrrrr…

“How do you know?” Trevor asked after a moment.

“Because I don’t remember anything, either. All I remember is darkness, a black area where my thoughts should be. It’s all gone, like it never happened. One minute, I was watching those two go back and forth.” Marsha pointed at Jaleel and Donald. “The next, I was looking at Lyle. And… he was…” She fought back a hard spot in her throat. “He was scared of me. After that, he tried to jump off the cliff. I wanted to help, would have done anything to save my child, I promise you that, but I couldn’t move. My arms and legs just wouldn’t
function
. Thank God, that man… that man…” She broke down, her body racked with sobs. She looked back on Lyle’s form.

Brrrrr… brrrrr… brrrrr…

Lyle’s eyes fluttered open. He put a hand to his temple and massaged the area. “Mom?”

“I’m right here.”

“Where am I?”

“We’re still on the trail, hon. Don’t worry. We’re gonna get help.” Marsha looked up at Jaleel, directing the next comment at the tour guide. “Help will be here soon.”

“Does anyone have a cell phone?” Jaleel asked.

Trevor sighed. “Yeah. You can use mine.” Trevor pulled a silver cell phone from his front pocket and handed it to Jaleel.

“Thanks.” Jaleel flipped open the phone. “Damn it! No signal.”

Marsha saw something in Jaleel’s eyes. A hint of dishonesty. She was a mother; she knew that look well. “What about your—” She started to point out the radio attached to Jaleel’s hip, but there was that damn noise again.

Brrrrr… brrrrr… brrrrr…

“Shit!” Marsha yelled, cursing herself for being so stupid. “It’s on vibrate!”

Trevor slapped his hands on his legs. “Now what is she talking about? She ain’t going crazy on us again, is she?”

“No, no, I’m not crazy.” Marsha went at Lyle, clamoring for his pockets. The boy tried to scurry away, still obviously scared of her, but she had to ignore it, if just for a moment.

“It’s been ringing,” Marsha told them as she pulled the phone from her son’s pocket. “It’s been on vibrate. I thought I was just hearing things.”

The screen read “Unknown Caller” in green letters. She slid the bar at the bottom, unlocking the device. Shoving it up to her ear, she yelled, “Sorry, but we’re in trouble. There’s been an accident, and we need help. I need to use this line to call the po—”

“Let me talk to Lyle.”

The voice was terribly familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. Something was blocking her memories again.

“Who is this?”

“Marsha, give the phone to Lyle.”

Her mouth went dry. She was left with ice in her veins. “Is this some kind of joke?”

The voice was loving, sugary-sweet. “Nobody’s jerking you around, sweetheart. Though I might let you grab my crotch another time. For now, give the phone to our son.”

Marsha felt lost. Everything was wrong. The norm had been disturbed, her entire way of looking at things changed. She had lain next to her dying husband, felt his hand loosen in her own, watched his life slip away. Yet his voice was on the phone. It just wasn’t possible.

But it’s him
.
I will never forget Paul’s voice
.

Fourteen years ago, Marsha had been dragged along to the reunion of a high school she had never attended. Her best friend, Debra Trundell, needed Marsha present to help with her nerves. Debra, a natural introvert, rarely stepped out of the house to grocery shop, let alone to attend parties. Marsha was surprised Debra would want to put herself through some awful gathering of people she probably didn’t even remember.

Marsha hated every minute of the reunion. She hadn’t known anyone, of course, so when Debra ran into a boy she used to date in the eleventh grade, Marsha had retreated to the bar.
Let her have her fun
, she thought. She’d just drink.

The open bar was tended by a tight-chested, thick-armed man wearing a blue suit. With a twinkle in his eye, he told her he was from Armenia. The more Marsha drank, the more handsome the man became. She tried not to stare, but it was damn near impossible. The guy was so hot, and she was so hypnotized, she didn’t notice another man had sat down next to her until he spoke.

“Doesn’t it always happen like this?”

Startled, she spilled her whiskey sour down the front of her dress. “Whush?” What she’d meant was “What?” but it didn’t come out like that.

“Life.” He looked at her over his drink, his smile distorting as it showed through liquid inside the glass. “It never goes as planned.”

She shrugged too hard, spilling more of her drink in the process. “Maybe you got planned to do somethin’ else?”

“How many have you had?”

“I’m not drunk. Just bushing.”

“Buzzing?”

“Yesh.”

“And I am
so
not worthy of your current attention.”

Marsha followed the man’s gaze to where the flat of her hand rested on his crotch. She couldn’t remember putting her hand there. More than likely, she’d been aiming for his thigh. Even that seemed odd, as she didn’t know him.

“Oh, muh gosh!” She felt her cheeks flush. “I’m
sooooooooo
sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

His blue eyes, like cool pools, found hers. He kept his hair loose around his head, not slicked back like the Armenian weightlifting bartender who was currently refilling her drink. She checked his nametag—Paul.

Paul reached up and placed his finger over the name tag on her right breast, pushing softly. “You’re Marsha.”

She nodded. She had no idea if overindulgence gave her the proverbial beer goggles, or if Paul really was as handsome as she found him. Either way, she knew she was taking him home.

Debra ended up leaving with her old high school fling, so Marsha let Paul give her a ride. At some point on the way home, she passed out.

Paul must have carried her inside, as the next morning she found a note on the fridge.

Hey, it’s Paul from last night. I hope you remember me this morning, or this is going to sound way creepy. I used the keys in your purse to open your door so I could get you inside. I’m glad your license had your correct address, or we might not have made it here. Don’t worry. I put them back. Nothing happened, either, if you’re wondering. Though it wouldn’t have been a bad thing. So if you remember me, and I’m still as handsome as I seemed to be to you last night, I’ll let you grab my crotch another time. My number’s in the Rolodex on your desk under Paul Lake. Talk to you soon?

They had talked soon. And he made good on his promise to let her fondle him again. That was, after all, how Lyle was conceived. The romance was whirlwind quick, swooping her up and away, carrying her off to a land more marvelous than Oz, more mysterious than Wonderland. Dorothy and Alice would just have to be jealous, for Marsha had found Heaven on Earth.

“Paul?” Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, and her chest tightened.

“Good. Now you know who this is.”

Marsha clapped her hand over her mouth and began chewing on the inside of her palm.

After a brief burst of static, another voice broke in, “Now give the phone to the kid, bitch!”

Marsha dropped the phone and regarded it as if it were some kind of alien thing. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, trapped in the insanity of the moment, mind reeling. Frozen in place, she watched Lyle pick the phone up off the ground.