The Dead Parade (2 page)

He checked his watch: 11 am.

The day was warm, the sun was shining, and the wind blew with considerable strength. James remembered the weatherman mentioning a storm. Somehow it didn’t fit; there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

It was time to visit Johnny.

* * *

James knocked two times, waited a few seconds, and was about to knock again when the front door swung open.

Standing in the doorway, Johnny looked at James with a blank stare and little emotion. He didn’t look good. His sunken red eyes seemed to be glossed-over from a lack of sleep. His hair was matted, crusted to the side of his head in a greased, savage frenzy. His skin was pale and his clothing was dirty. His teeth were grimy and stained. He had cuts around his eyes that seemed to create a design of some kind.

James wondered if the wounds were self-inflicted.

Johnny’s image gave James a discomfited feeling, making him feel like an unwanted guest. But James wasn’t unwanted, was he? With his mind shifting gears, James re-evaluated his visit.
What’s going on?
he wondered.
Is Johnny upset with me?

After a confused bout of reflection, James came to a conclusion: he sized things up incorrectly. After all, Johnny invited him over––
forced
him over, actually. And it couldn’t be time to go already. He hadn’t even said hello.

“
Johnny,” James whispered, sounding apologetic. “You okay?”

Johnny exhaled; his eyes became puffed slits. He leaned against a wall, listening to something. But what was it?

Soon enough James was listening too. He listened to the sounds of the house, the street behind, and the birds in the sky. But there was nothing to hear––nothing unusual that is, just small-town silence and the everyday sounds that surrounded it.

“
Johnny?”

Five full seconds passed before Johnny’s eyelids opened wide enough to let the late-morning sunshine in. He rubbed his face, cleared his throat, and said, “James, I’m glad you came.”

James fabricated half a smile. “Of course I came, buddy,” he said, wondering if beneath his white shirt and his black tie he looked as ghastly as Johnny. It was possible. He had a rough morning that he hadn’t even begun to come to terms with. “Are you okay? You look a little…”

The wind blew stronger, causing the trees to sway, the grass to rustle, and the door to swing open. Once the door was open it squeaked and rattled inside its rusty hinges.

“
I’m tired.” Johnny said unresponsively, letting the door sway.

“
I was going to say that. You look tired. Have you been sleeping?”

Ignoring the question, Johnny said, “I’m hungry, did you bring food?”

James felt his nerves give and he laughed uncomfortably, sounding like a fool. “No,” he said. “I don’t have food. But I’m thinking… I might be hungry too. I could eat. You want to order a pizza, or go somewhere… a restaurant maybe? What do you think? Wanna do lunch?”

“
Pizza.” Johnny said, unleashing a miserable grin.

“
Yeah?”

Johnny pulled away from the wall and rolled his head in a half-circle. He looked over his shoulder and down the well-lit corridor. He eyed the crooks and curves in the floorboards, and the dust-puppies that crept from corner to corner when nobody was looking. He stretched his back and tightened his stomach. It seemed as though something cold had crawled across his skin, and into his ear––whispering, warning him to behave. Then his face transformed, becoming a hideous scowl. For a moment he looked like he would scream. “We shouldn’t go out,” he managed. “It doesn’t like to go out.”

Like a zombie, Johnny walked an unbalanced line inside the house; he left the door blowing in the wind. And all the while his eyes crept along the walls: the wall on his right, the wall on his left, the hardwood beneath his feet…

Grudgingly, James stepped inside.

With the doorknob in hand he looked across the vacant, small-town street. He glanced at the swaying trees, the blowing leaves, the empty driveways. He heard a dog bark and the faint sound of a beeping horn. And feeling like a condemned man, he shrugged his shoulders, disregarded the yapping animal, and the beeping horn, and he closed the rattling door.

4

James expected Johnny’s house to be a disaster but it wasn’t. It was perfect; too perfect. The tables were gone. The plants were gone. The bookcase and all of his books were missing too. The TV was still there along with a couch, which sat next to an antique chair that had large holes in the fabric. And, aside from some dirty dishes, that was about it.

“
Hey Johnny. You changed the room around, did you? Got rid of a few things?”

Johnny fell into the old chair. The chair moaned and creaked as dust puffed out of it. Its wooden legs screeched against the hardwood.

“
Pizza?” Johnny said. “Did you bring a pizza? You did, right?”

The statement was absurd, of course. And at first, James thought Johnny was kidding. “No man, I didn’t bring food.” There was a moment of silence. James swallowed uneasily. “But I’ll phone. You want pizza, huh?”

James reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He scanned the address book, closing his eyes when his dead brother’s phone number rolled across the screen. Then he found the number: Tony’s Big-Topping Pizzeria: the best pizza in town.

He glanced into the backyard through the large garden window. The backyard was loaded with Johnny’s furnishings: dressers and beds, tables and chairs, bookshelves and clothing––plus boxes and boxes and boxes. James, confused, shook his head. He wondered what had happened and why.

Did Johnny snap?

Without wanting an answer, he walked down the hallway. If he was going to order food he needed Johnny’s address. He opened the front door. Against the brick wall was the house number: 1342. He dialed the number and the phone began ringing. Once, twice…

“
Hello, Tony’s Pizza.”

“
I’d like to order a pizza for delivery.”

“
Address?”

“
1342 Tecumseh Street.”

“
Name?”

“
James McGee.”

“
And you’d like to order?”

James stepped into the living room and realized that Johnny had frayed newspaper clippings attached to a wall. He approached the clippings and ran his eyes across the headlines. One headline read: TWO MORE FOUND DEAD. Another: MURDER IN HIGH PARK. A third was: 4 BODIES, 24 HOURS.

After reading the headlines he glanced at Johnny.

Something was horribly wrong. He knew those stories, those headlines on the wall. Everyone did. The string of deaths was puzzling the police. Evidence suggested that the killer might be some kind of animal. But they didn’t know for sure.

Maybe it was Johnny.

5

James stepped away from the wall, lost in thought. He approached his friend, noticing that the room was cold. Really cold. Johnny was curled up on the chair with his legs pulled high, hiding his face beneath his arms. Eyes peeked above kneecaps.

“
It’s here.” Johnny whispered with a raspy voice. “Oh my God, it’s here again. It’s inside the room with us. Why won’t it leave me alone?”

James stopped dead in his tracks. Then he heard a distant voice, “Excuse me? Sir? You’d like to order? Yes? No?”

“
Uh…”

“
Sir?”

James focused. Somehow he had forgotten that he was in the middle of a phone call. “Oh yeah,” he said. “I’d like to order a large pepperoni pizza. Thin crust, extra cheese… and I’ll pay cash. But I’ve got to go, there’s an emergency. I’m at 1342 Tecumseh. See you soon.”

He hung up, hoping he had given enough information. Then he slid his phone into his pocket and said, “What is it, Johnny?”

“
It’s here.”

“
What’s here?”

James took a step towards the couch.

Johnny pulled away from James and crushed his body deeper into the chair. His fingers curled and his toes squeezed together. His stomach, which felt empty and rotten, clenched like a fist. “Oh God. Don’t move,” he said, with his lips pulled into a bizarre snarl. “Whatever you do, don’t move.”

James looked over his shoulder. Again, there was nothing to see. “Johnny?”

James slowly made his way to the couch and sat down as if the chair had been set with explosives. He had forgotten all about the drama that surrounded his family. Joseph’s death, Penny’s death, Mathew’s injuries––all had been temporarily washed from his thoughts. His focus was on Johnny now, who seemed to be one small step away from madness.

“
John.” He said with a flat but kind tone. “We should talk, man. We should talk.”

Johnny looked up. His eyes were beyond wild. Drool had formed in the corners of his lips, which were cracked and dirty and a perfect fit with his unhinged smile.

“
What the fuck, Johnny?”

James wondered where the old Johnny was––the Johnny that liked soulful house music, extreme boxing, and getting drunk with his friends; the Johnny who had a big smile and a hearty laugh; the Johnny that went to college to be a chef and was excited about cooking; the Johnny he knew; the Johnny he loved; the Johnny he came to visit.

“
What’s going on, bro? You’re scaring me; you’re freaking me out.”

“
I wish we had more time,” Johnny said. “‘Cause I sure am hungry. That pizza would hit the spot right about now. Don’t you think? If only we had more time.”

“
The pizza will be here in thirty minutes,” James tried to reason. “But who cares? Johnny, what’s going on? You’re being a weirdo today. Why’s your stuff outside, and what’s with the clippings on the wall? You don’t know something about the murders, do you? Dear God man, tell me you’re not involved!”

Johnny didn’t speak.

“
Are you? Are you involved?”

“
Do you have it with you?”

James shook his head. “What… the pizza?”

“
Yeah.”

James felt the sharp prick of annoyance. It was a mild irritation, but it seemed like something that could get out of hand quickly. Like a gift from the anger fairy, a thought blasted his thinking: slap Johnny across the face, wake the son-of-a-bitch up and snap him from his daze.

James resisted the urge. The physical approach didn’t seem appropriate, at least, not yet. “No man, I don’t have a pizza. But it’s coming.”

Johnny nodded as he reached a hand into the crease of the chair. He pushed down, hunting inside. “That’s too bad,” he said, shifting in his seat.

He jerked something free.

“
What is it, Johnny?” James asked. But then he knew.

It was a gun.

6

The wave of danger hit James in the chest like it was a material thing. His head began spinning. He became dizzy. Everything seemed surreal.

“
Oh God, Johnny. What are you doing?”

“
Shhh. It’s okay,” Johnny said. “Trust me, it’s the only way.”

As Johnny raised the weapon, James thought about running, but then what? He’d take a bullet in the back? No thanks. James didn’t need a slug tearing a hole into his ribcage, his heart, or his lung. What he needed was a paid vacation and a couple of weeks lounging around on a tropical beach loaded with beautiful, intelligent women. Or better yet, a plan––a good plan, a plan that didn’t have him screaming in pain and dying a coward’s death with a bullet in his spine.

Johnny put the barrel beneath his jaw. His finger tightened and the trigger moved slightly. Apparently James wasn’t in danger; Johnny was about to kill himself.

“
Oh shit,” James said without hesitation. “Don’t do it. Don’t even think it!”

Johnny cackled twice and sneered. “I’ll tell you what Suzy told me, if you’d like.”

“
Suzy?” James said, puzzled. He noticed the room getting colder. “Suzy Rae?”

Suzy Rae was a mutual friend. She was a nice girl––kind, considerate; she knew how to make people feel welcome. She was born in Haiti and still had the accent in her voice. Her dark and curly hair seemed to draw attention to her strong jaw line and full lips. She had a pretty face that made guys look twice. James knew her; he liked her quite a bit.

“
Yeah, Suzy Rae.”

“
What about her?”

“
Want to know what she told me?”

“
Sure Johnny, whatever. Just don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“
Stupid?”

“
Yeah. Be cool, man. Be cool.”

Johnny lowered the gun two inches and his smile widened. “This was Suzy’s gun,” he said. “And now she’s dead.”

7

“
What did you say?”

Johnny laughed. “Sue shot herself a couple of weeks ago. I went to visit and found her curled up in the basement. She had her arms stretched out and a shotgun pointed at her chest. I’m not sure if she’d be able to pull the trigger. Not the way she was sitting, but she was trying. That’s the important thing, I suppose. It’s the trying that counts. She was acting crazier than shit, too. Like a loon, so I talked her into giving me the gun and I brought her upstairs. The next thing I knew the dumb cunt had a handgun. I thought she was going to kill me.” Johnny waved the gun carelessly. “She didn’t. Kill me, that is. She did herself in instead. Well, after that, I guess you could say that I was dazed. Dazed and confused, if you catch my drift. And the blood was drainin’ from her head like something from a movie. It was squirting too, if you want me to be honest with you. Squirting in the air. I grabbed the gun from her, as her body settled into place. I don’t know what I was thinking exactly, but I took it and ran as fast as my legs would carry me.”