Most of Me (2 page)

“
My heads fine,
”
I spat, as if accusing them both of not believing me, which they very clearly didn't. They helped me to my feet. I looked both ways, confirmed the blue Ford had long gone before brushing myself down, wiping away cut grass.
“
Somebody pulled me off that road,” I sternly said. “I felt it; I felt his hand.
”
I was sure it was a mister.
And I could still smell him: a distinct odour that wasn’t particularly awful, although, non too pleasant. It was a combination of candle smoke and damp.

“
We told you, no-one here but us,
”
Jack cajoled, with arms spread as if proving to me that we were alone.

I lowered my eyes to the ground, saying to myself so quietly it was hardly audible,
“
Someone pulled me off,
”
still brushing loose grass from my Levi
’
s and deep red t-shirt. I thought about whom that hand could belong to; I
had
felt his hand after all. And then I remembered just how icy it felt. It was so cold as if it had belonged to death itself. I looked up still questioning what had happened, still bewildered, but like a typical fourteen year old with an attention span of less than a few seconds, I let it go as soon as I laid eyes on that house.

It was a curious building that made everything else history. The icy hand, the blue Ford: it was as though they hadn’t happened, not just for me, but for all of us. The brothers were behind me. We walked down the lane, which headed towards the front of the house.

Jack said, ominously,
“O
ld man, Winters
’
house.
”

Ben put in,
“T
hey say he died years ago, but he
’
s still in there. Can you imagine all the maggots eating and falling from his eye sockets?
”

I tried to imagine for a brief moment, but what I saw in my minds eye was a bit too real.

“
That
’
s so not true!
”
Jack argued. “So, you’re telling me that if the whole world knew he was dead and still in there, then the authorities would just leave him? That’s stupid,” he cackled. I looked around to see if anyone had heard, but we were still alone.

“It’s true! It is;
Casey Thomas said so,
” he urged.

“
Casey Thomas? Argh! What does he know? He
’
s a freak who believes in the bogey-man. And didn
’
t he say that the entire New England police department had been replaced by aliens?
”

“
Well, yeah, I guess so,
”
Ben shrugged.

Jack pointed at Ben.
“
So don
’
t believe in his crap, okay?
”

I put in, a little amused,
“
Aliens? And you believed him?
”
I turned to Ben, my eyebrows raised.

We just stood in silence and watched that house, imposing as it was.
Was the old man still in there?
I asked myself.
Was he dead?
The wiser part of me new that it couldn’t be true. After all, if people had known he was dead, then surely his body was long gone, taken by the ground or the fire. We stared at the building as though it emitted some sort of energy that pulled us deeper into its hold.

The house looked lived in, warm and very much loved from the outside. From the inside, however, it appeared desolate and empty. It looked cold, a far contrast the cosmetic appearance the outside gave. You could imagine the intense cold in every room, from every corner to the deepest eave, the noises that weren’t really there, but were heard for those who listened. It drip fed horror in the disguise of the bricks and mortar. It had a boxed window on the roof like a cyclops eye peering out into the world, two white sash windows on each of the floors, a small oval window on the right side of the building. There were probably more at the back too, but we couldn’t see. I studied the windows, like eyes returning our curiosity; they had brown curtains the colour of bark from an aged oak tree. They were all drawn, except the bottom left; there was a slight opening where the fabric joined, and through that space I could see only darkness, like a black hole absorbing all the light.

I had a strange sensation of being watched. I couldn’t tell if Ben and Jack felt the same; I didn’t care to ask them for the sake of being ridiculed further more.

Leading up toward the house were two strips of lawn, both freshly cut and neatly trimmed, and a paved footpath in between which stopped at three wooden steps. They lead up to a veranda with freshly varnished decking and a bright white rocking chair, and under the lower windows were blooming flowers tubs of greens and reds. All seemed to be amazingly pristine, including the shiny red front door.
Was he really dead?
It was like a show house from back in the fifties. Lost in time.

“It awfully quiet here,” Ben pointed out. “Someone’s gotta be home, don’t you think?”

“You’d think, wouldn’t you?” I replied. I drew my attention to the open curtain, left of the red door, behind the rocking chair. The window was slightly ajar. The bark coloured curtains rippled and fluttered away from the glass, and all I could make out from the occasional peep into the house was darkness and shadows. Still, the feeling of being watched never left.

I looked around at the brothers and said,
“You really think he’s dead?”
and I looked back at the house. I glanced at the first floor window. The curtain seemed to twitch, then close. I’m sure I saw something. But nothing big…as small as a child, and then it was gone.

“You want to go inside? Check it out?” asked
Jack, excitedly, and he made a grab for the front gate.

I turned to him; his eyes were wild. But I could tell he was serious.
“But I think he’s still in there!” I argued.
“I saw something!”

Ben said,
“No, pretty sure he's dead, Dan.”

Jack put in, “Dead or not, it’s exciting, don't you think?
”

“
I think it
’
s true,” Ben said. “He did kill them; he must have.”

Jack shrugged. “Maybe,” and he let go of the gate as if it was coated with something nasty.

I said, stuttering the words,
“K…kill? Did you say, kill?” There was no confirmation; both brothers went quiet. “Why, who’d he kill?”

Ben turned to Jack as if he was asking permission.

Jack sighed.
“
Well,
”
he said, falteringly.
“
I suppose you better tell him.
”

“
Yes, Ben, I think you should,
”
I instructed, peering at him over my shoulder.

Ben started,
“W
ell, the thing is - and our Mom and Dad told us, so there must be something in it - about thirty years ago there was a family that lived in that house.
”

“
So?
”
I said.

“
He
’
s
trying
to tell you,
”
Jack expressed.

Ben coughed, clearing his throat.
“Thank you, Jack,” he jested. “
There was this kid, a girl I think, and their Mom and Dad.
”
He turned to Jack.
“
I
’
m sure Mom and Dad told us it was the fall; or was it the summer?
”

“
Doesn
’
t matter,
”
Jack sighed.
“
It all happened about a month after they moved into that place,
”
Jack nodded at the house. “One minute they were a normal family and the next
…”

“
Gone!
”
Ben gasped.
“
Totally vanished. Dead, I think. In fact I
’
m pretty sure about that. Killed and buried in the garden; that's what I heard, anyhow.
”

“Casey Thomas?” Jack inquired.

Ben stared blankly.

“Though as much,” shaking his head, “but it’s a lie
!
”
Jack said bluntly.
“And I
’m pretty sure that someones’ going to die if that particular someone doesn't stop listening to Casey Thomas.
”

Ben shrugged off the threat from his older brother; he was used to it by now; it was expected.

Jack said,
“Listen,
I
’
m sure they
’
re not dead, but they
did
disappear, all except this guy,” he thumbed the house.

There was a moment
’
s silence. I looked at the house and said,
“
so…” I shrugged, “…they had an argument, separated, kids went with their mother. That shit happens all the time.
”

“
Well, I suppose you can make your own conclusions about it,
”
Jack deduced.

“What happened is history,” Ben put in. “Tragedy happens everyday.
”

Jack went on,
“O
ld man, Winters. That’s him. That
’
s the man who divorced his wife.
”

I turned to Jack.
“So that’s him? He might be dead; he might be alive; he may have killed his family; he might not have! And you
want
to go inside? You think
thats
exciting!”

“
Yeah, kind of,
” said Jack, smirking.

I didn’t need to think about it; the choice was clear. If Jack wanted to go inside, then he was on his own. And to be honest, I’d run out of steam to be going to Jacobs wood, too.
I’d nearly died for Christ Sakes!
And the mister who had grabbed my arm? A ghost? That was too freaky.

What the hell was Jack thinking? It was his adventure, now; his mess; his consequence. I turned to Ben and said, “I’m out,” and shrugged it off. “You go if you want, but I’m going home.” I felt Jack breathing down my neck, probably to intimidate, but I felt no regret.

“You looking out for me, right?” Jack asked Ben.

Ben was torn and gave out a deep gasp. Eventually, he said, “I’m with Dan.
You don't know whats even in there! This is just dumb!”

“Suit yourself, faggot!” Jack spat. “I knew that Dan was a chicken, but I didn’t have you down for one, bro!”

I began to turn around, but Ben tugged at my shirt. “Don’t bite; thats what he wants.”

So I didn’t. We sauntered home, although I could see that Ben was reluctant to leave his brother. I checked over my shoulder, but Jack had gone. “He wont actually do it, will he?”

“You don't know my brother very well, do you?”

We never talked much after that. I’m not sure why. Perhaps we were both effected by a sense of guilt.

The following morning started by the sound of raised voices emitting from down the corridor of the apartment building. I went to see what the commotion was. Two cops were at the door of Ben’s apartment talking to his Mom. I crept down a little further. Ben came out of the door, saw me and met me halfway.

“What’s up?” I asked.

He scratched his head, looking back at the police. “Jack never came home last night. Cops are just leaving. They’ve talked to me, and I told them about yesterday. I think they want to hear from you, too. You better warn your Mom.”

“Aren’t you worried?”

Ben shrugged. “He’s done this before, so might be nothing.”

“Might be something, too. Did you mention the house?”

“
Ben!
” his Mom called. “
Come back in!
” She looked at me objectively.

“Like I said, he’s
done
this before!” he snapped. “Sorry, got to go.”

He crossed the cops as they walked towards me. He never looked up at them, nor did they look down on him.

“Is your Mom around, son?”

***

The cops gave old man Winters a visit. He was in the house, and very much alive, shining some light on speculation. He did live alone, though. The property was searched but there was no sign of Jack ever stepping foot inside. We expected he would just show up with some scary story on how he had been captured by the old man and had escaped.
The villain and the hero, and what a story to tell
. That was Jack all over.

We never did see him again.

***

We never gave up hope in finding him, even after ten years. The authorities did, though; to them he was another missing person, a statistic. I think the sensible thing was to give up and except that Jack was dead. Move on. But it was hard to except because there was no proof that he
was
dead.