Soultaker (7 page)

Jake blinked. “Um…”

Her speech unsettled him. It came from out of nowhere, for one thing. And it was already evident that Kristen was a little strange. But he tried to squelch his unease. He liked her. He couldn’t pinpoint precisely why, but he did. It wasn’t just that she was pretty. It was a combination of the way she talked, the way she looked at him, and her relaxed physicality, the way she was so at ease being this intimate with a virtual stranger. It was all that and probably a host of more obscure things, too.

He liked being close to her.

What that might mean beyond this moment, he didn’t know, but there you go.

He coughed. “Okay. Sure. But you go first…”

She drew in a lungful of air, then let it out slowly. “People like to say they’re not afraid to die.” She peered at him with an intensity that made Jake squirm a little—it was as if she were trying to see through his eyes and into his brain, probing for his secrets. “Of old age, I mean. Hell, everybody’s afraid of sudden death. A killer sneaking into your room in the middle of the night. A crack addict with a gun mugging you on a city street. A heart attack that strikes you down in the prime of life. But most people, if you ask them, will say they won’t fear death as the natural end to a long, well-lived life. If you get to be ninety years old, or a hundred, or whatever, the supposition is that you’ll be so tired of dealing with your infirmities that you’ll gladly surrender to the darkness.”

Jake laughed. “Surrender to the darkness?”

Her smile was a shy one. “I’m trying to be a horror writer, too.”

“No way. Are you shitting me?”

“Seriously.”

Jake sat up straighter. “Huh. Well, that’s cool.”

A subtle hint of redness touched her cheeks. “Yes. But back to the subject at hand. Here’s the thing, Jake. I’m afraid to die. Whether it happens today, tomorrow, or fifty years from now, it doesn’t matter—I’m afraid. I think about it every day. I can be just sitting at my desk at work and suddenly I’ll think about it. I’ll fast-forward to my last moments so clearly it makes me want to scream. I see myself in a hospital bed. Impossibly old and feeble. Hooked up to machines. Laboring for breath. Clinging to life. Most people, if they imagine something so morbid for themselves, they’d say death would be a welcome relief. But not me, Jake.” She leaned forward and touched his hand, making him shudder. “Even then, I’d be consumed with terror. Dreading what comes next, because I know what comes next. Nothing. A void. Nonexistence.” Her voice drifted to a lower register, became almost a whisper. “I don’t believe there’s anything after this life. And I don’t want to ever die, Jake. I don’t want to stop
being
. Which just isn’t possible.” The shy smile returned. “It’s quite the conundrum.”

Jake drew her hand into both of his. “I think I’m going to drink myself to death.” He swallowed hard. It astounded him that he was saying this. It frightened him, too. “I’m an alcoholic. I ended a year of sobriety yesterday. The stress of being back in Rockville had a little to do with it, but mostly it’s because, deep down, I never really wanted to stop drinking. And I don’t think I’ll ever stop again. I mean that. That’s not a poor-pitiful-me statement. That’s the way it’s going to be because that’s the way I want it to be. I don’t like the way the world really is. I don’t like the way I feel sober. I need the edge off. I need reality blunted. It’s going to kill me. But I consider it an equal exchange. Am I crazy?”

“You’re not crazy.” She laid her other hand on top of his. “And congratulations. You passed the test.”

Jake felt a sudden tightness in his chest. He replayed his
words in his head, marveling at them. The sentiments expressed ran counter to every sensible thing he’d learned over the past year, but he realized that he truly did not care. His speech to Kristen marked the first time he’d ever laid bare this unvarnished truth.

Her gaze turned solemn. “Jake…are you feeling this like I am? Please tell me you are.”

Jake hesitated. Then he sighed. “Yeah. Yeah. Holy shit, I think so.”

She smiled. “Cool.”

Jake shook his head. “But it’s crazy. Isn’t it? I’ve known you, what…twenty minutes?”

She laughed. “I know. And it is crazy. It really is. But I don’t think I care.”

They inched closer to each other.

And Kristen said, “Kiss me.”

So he kissed her.

The cafeteria at Rockville High came alive shortly after the noon lunch bell. Students poured in through the wide-open double doors at either end of the spacious room, filling the previously silent void with chatter and laughter. Jocks told dirty jokes, their buddies barked sycophantic laughter, and their pretty blonde girlfriends giggled and rolled their eyes. Students snagged prime table spots while their friends got in line to get food. Plates and cutlery clanked, students jockeyed for position as the tables filled, and a hip-hop beat began to emanate from the wall-mounted speakers. The small crowd around the jukebox dispersed after a few minutes, because by then it was already programmed through the lunch hour. By the time the last student cleared the lunch counter, there were precious few empty seats remaining at the overflowing tables.

There was, however, one notable exception.

A lone table with just two occupants, a big white island in the middle of a human sea.

Kelsey Hargrove and Will Mackeson sat opposite each other at one end of a jam-packed table. The tables were arranged in four long rows on each side of the cafeteria with a wide-open space in the middle. The boys normally liked to position themselves at the edge of the open space. It was a good spot for scoping out hot chicks. But today they weren’t at their normal table. Today they were sitting one table over from that
lone white island, conducting long-overdue reconnaissance work.

Kelsey shot a quick glance at the island, then snapped his eyes in another direction. “Fuck, man. She saw me looking at her.”

Will grimaced. “Christ, don’t look at them.”

Kelsey stared with distaste at the untouched lasagna on his plate. He was too sick with worry to muster an appetite. He prodded it with his fork for a moment before setting it down. “There is something seriously fucking wrong with that chick. And I don’t mean wrong like she’s psycho or something. She’s
evil
, dude, like a spawn of Satan or something.”

Will nodded. “Right. Yeah. She’s the fuckin’ princess of darkness.”

The boys weren’t joking. This Myra Lewis chick their buddy Trey was spending all his time with these days was bad news. The school was still abuzz with gossip about her run-in with Cindy Wells. Cindy Wells was one of a handful of girls who could contend for the title of Ms. Rockville High. She was almost universally adored. An untouchable. Royalty among students. Myra Lewis had gone medieval on a fucking
goddess.
She should be in a jail cell. But here she was, eating lunch with her whipped boyfriend, a serene smile on her pretty face, acting as if nothing had happened.

Kelsey picked at his lasagna some more, managed to eat a forkful or two before giving up again. He eyed Will solemnly. “We’ve got to do something, man.”

Will shrugged. “Yeah, but what? It’s hopeless. Trey barely even talks to us anymore. It’s like Myra won’t let him.”

Kelsey nodded. “It’s like he’s a trained puppy dog.”

“More like a broken-down, beat-to-hell old hound dog.” Another darting glance at their troubled friend’s table rattled Will—Myra was staring right at him. Her cold gaze raised goose bumps on his arms. She had an arm draped around Trey’s shoulders. While he watched, she twined a lock of Trey’s hair between her fingers and twisted it, pulling it taut. It
looked painful, but Trey didn’t react. Feeling sick, Will looked away. “Shit.”

The same sick feeling was reflected in Kelsey’s eyes—he’d seen Myra’s blatant display of sadism, too. “The bitch scares me, man. I mean, she really fucking scares the shit out of me.”

Will shuddered. “Yeah. Me, too.”

“I wasn’t kidding about her being evil. I think she’s some kinda demon or devil lady.” Kelsey’s tone was utterly devoid of humor. “I think we should look up some exorcism shit on the Internet.”

Will shook his head. “I guess we could try, but what good would it do? With that kind of thing, how would we ever tell what’s bullshit from what’s genuine? Ain’t anything in the world more full of shit than the Internet, man.”

“So, what, we do nothing? Fuck that. Trey’s our bro. We can’t just let this demon chick destroy him.”

Will looked at his food. He hadn’t eaten all day, but the lasagna looked like something regurgitated by a rabid animal. He pushed the plate away and said, “Maybe we could go to Principal Slater.”

“Oh, sure, right, the same Principal Slater who let her get away with knocking Cindy Wells on her ass. Wow, why didn’t I think of that?”

Will flipped him off. “Okay, smart guy, what about the police?”

Kelsey shook his head. “The police will not take this seriously. Not in a gazillion fucking years. Face it, there’s no help coming from the adult world.”

“So we’re just screwed, right? Trey is doomed to be Myra’s slave forever?”

Kelsey leaned over the table and jabbed a forefinger at Will. “Wrong. We’re going to do something. I don’t know what yet, but something. We’ll do the Internet thing. If that doesn’t work out, we’ll hire a mafia goon to whack the bitch.”

“There ain’t any mafia in Rockville.”

Kelsey smiled. “Right. Otherwise that’d be plan A.”

Will slumped in his chair, frustration evident in his posture. “Shit, it’s not funny. We don’t have Soprano motherfuckers around, but there’s a shitload of Zone rednecks who’d do the job for beer money.”

Kelsey grunted. “Forget that. None of those fuckers are ever sober enough to shoot straight. It’d turn out like Larry the Cable Guy meets
Pulp
fucking
Fiction.
”

“So there goes that idea.”

“Yeah.”

Kelsey risked another glance at Trey’s table and was startled to see his friend sitting there alone. It was the first time he’d seen Trey without Myra in ages. He looked at Will, who’d noticed the same thing. An unspoken communication transpired in a heartbeat. They rose from the table and hurried over to Trey.

Will took a seat next to Trey, while Kelsey sat opposite him.

Trey just sat there, barely blinking, their presence not appearing to register at all.

Kelsey glanced again at Will before addressing Trey. “Trey, man, listen up. We know something’s wrong, okay? Myra is, like, evil incarnate, right? We don’t know what she’s doing to you, but we’re gonna do something about it, I fucking promise.”

Trey’s voice was barely audible: “No.”

Kelsey frowned. “What? You
need
our help, man. Don’t even pretend like you don’t know what we’re talking about.”

Trey pushed his chair away from the table and got to his feet with a sigh. He lifted his tray off the table and began to shuffle away from them, his head down as he moved toward the counter. He appeared listless, sapped of energy and life. Like a damn zombie. Kelsey and Will hurried after him. Kelsey cupped a hand on Trey’s shoulder. “Hey, hold up—”

But Trey whirled on them. His tray went flying as he slapped Kelsey’s hand away. The plate bounced off the tray and shattered on the floor. The babble of chatter and laughter around them stopped immediately.

Trey leaned in close to Kelsey, his face twisted with anger
and an inner agony. “Mind your own fucking business.” His voice was a low growl. “Stay away from me, Kelsey, if you know what’s good for you.”

Then he bolted from the cafeteria.

Will muttered, “Oh, man…”

Kelsey remembered to breathe again, his breath emerging in a gasp. “Jesus…”

He saw Trey meet Myra at the open double doors. She drew him into her arms and kissed him passionately. Then she pushed Trey through into the hallway and directed one last smirk in their direction.

She winked.

And was gone.

Kelsey turned to Will. “My house. Tonight.”

Will nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

Kelsey stared at the empty space occupied by his friend moments earlier.

And he thought, I guess I don’t know what’s good for me.

Hal screwed his eyes shut and tried to pretend the monsters weren’t there. He didn’t know what they really were, but “monster” seemed the most apt word. They were like nothing he’d seen before, not even in his worst nightmares. They couldn’t be real. Nothing so horrible could be real. He was hallucinating. So he figured they’d just go away if he could keep his eyes shut long enough.

Then something snaked slowly around his leg, coiling like a cold, slippery vine. The way it felt on his flesh—so alien, so
wrong
—made him want to scream, but Jolene had gagged him with a pair of her soiled panties, sealing them in with a length of duct tape (and she took such evil pleasure in ripping the tape from his face when she wanted to talk with him). He whimpered instead, fresh tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. The slithering thing wrapped itself around a flabby thigh before probing at his crotch. It pushed at his balls, but they didn’t budge—Jolene had cemented them to the slick vinyl seat of the wheelchair with superglue. The thing gave up and shifted its attention to his beach ball-sized beer belly.

Hal was having a hard time breathing through his nose. He longed to open his mouth wide and draw in great lungfuls of air. Thinking about it brought on another attack of claustrophobia. His soul screamed for release, for deliverance from this dark, scary place. He yearned to be out in the open world again, with nothing around him but nature and the sky above.
If he survived this nightmare, he would become an outdoorsman. It was one of the things he fantasized about during the long, empty hours when Jolene was away. He imagined camping out for weeks at a time up in the mountains, enjoying the solitude and achieving a real peace for the first time in his miserable existence.

The tendril curled around his throat, triggering a gag reflex that rendered the already difficult act of breathing almost impossible for several agonizing moments. But the monster’s touch was actually very light. It wasn’t squeezing him. At least not yet. His mind reeled with horror at the prospect of slow asphyxiation by this…this thing.