White Space (52 page)

“O
H
, I
BEG TO DIFFER.
” Rima’s clothes were drenched now, and blood painted every inch of her face. “S
EEMS
I
ALREADY GOT LITTLE
R
IMA NOW, HAVEN
’
T
I? I
F YOU DON
’
T HURRY, YOU WON
’
T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT ME LETTING HER GO EITHER
. S
HE
’
LL JUST DIE, AND IT WON
’
T BE PRETTY
. O
H NO, IT WON
’
T BE PRETTY AT ALL.
”

As if to put the period to that, a fresh split opened on Rima’s throat with a meaty rip to reveal a faint glimmer of tendon and red, wet muscle. Eric felt a fresh surge of anger at their helplessness—at
his
. No one could lose that much blood and survive. But this thing did have powers. “If you leave, will that save her? Can you heal her somehow?”

“O
H, YOU BETCHA.
” A tremor squirmed through Rima’s cheeks, and the whisper-man let out a sudden groan. “
A
HHH
 … 
W
HOA, BOY, BETTER HURRY
. S
HE
’
S IN A
LOT
OF PAIN
.”

“Eric,” Casey began.

“No. Don’t even
think
about it, Case.” Eric’s heart beat hard and loud in his ears. Cold sweat rimed his upper lip, and a cramp of fear grabbed his stomach. Being scared wasn’t bad, was it? His drill sergeant once said that anyone who wasn’t a little freaked out was a damn fool. The trick was not to let it paralyze you.

I can do this. I’ve been fighting one way or another for my whole life—against Big Earl, the odds. Myself. Just one last battle
.

“Take me,” he said. “Use me.”

“No,” Emma said. “Eric, don’t.”

“S
ORRY, BOY,
” the whisper-man said. “I
DO SO ADMIRE YOU, BUT ONLY
C
ASEY WILL DO.
”

“It’s all right.” Except for the bruises, dread had bleached Casey’s skin until his face was nearly transparent. “I’ll do it.”

“Case, you can’t.” Eric’s hand tightened on Casey’s forearm. “I won’t let you.”

“But you heard it. I’m the only one who can save her.” Casey’s eyes were wet. “You’d do it for Emma or me. Please, Eric. Let me do this for
her
.”

“It’s a liar, Casey.” Emma’s tone was steely and sure. “No one can save her now, not even you.”

“But it said it would,” Casey said.

“Y
OU HAVE MY WORD ON THAT,
” the whisper-man put in.

“Screw you,” Emma spat. “You don’t have that kind of power. If you did, Tony and Bode and Chad and Lily would be here. Lizzie died from the crash; I don’t see you healing her. Even if she’d lived, she couldn’t have held you forever. Eventually, you would’ve ripped her apart the way you’re killing Rima now. If you could heal like that, you could hop in
and out of Lizzie, patch her up, wash, rinse, repeat a hundred times over. You wouldn’t need Casey.”

“I
KEEP
—
AAHHH
.” The thing grunted. Rima’s lips peeled away from teeth tinted orange with blood. Her upper lip trembled, then tore, the skin stretching and thinning and coming apart in wet threads. “I
KEEP
FORGETTING
,
” it said, using Rima’s hand to knuckle away blood, “
WHAT A SMART LITTLE ORPHAN GIRL YOU ARE.
W
ITH YOUR GIFTS, YOU AND I COULD GO FAR, BUT YOU’RE NOT STRONG ENOUGH TO HOLD ME EITHER
. O
URS WOULD BE A VERY
SHORT
UNION
. L
UCKY FOR ME, YOU STUMBLED ON HOW TO WRITE THE PERSON WHO COULD
.
O
OOPS
.” The whisper-man put a mangled hand to Rima’s ruined lips in mock dismay. “L
ET THE CAT OUT OF THE BAG
. M
E AND MY BIG
,
FAT, BLOODY MOUTH.
”

“Write the person?” A feather of alarm stroked Eric’s neck. Emma, he saw, had gone very still. “Emma, what’s he talking about?”

“W
HY, YOUR GIFTS
, E
RIC,
” the whisper-man said. “H
AVEN
’
T YOU WONDERED WHY YOU AND
E
MMA ARE, WELL, SUCH
GOOD
PALS, AND SO SOON, TOO
? W
HY YOU LIKE HER SO MUCH
? W
HY YOU ARE SO ATTRACTED,
CARE
SO MUCH ABOUT HER
? E
VEN
THINK
ALIKE
? B
ET YOU COULD FINISH EACH OTHER
’
S SENTENCES, AM
I
RIGHT?
”

“Eric?” he heard Casey say, but Eric couldn’t tear his eyes from the sudden anguish in Emma’s face. “Emma?” he said. “Emma, talk to me. Tell me, you can tell me.”

“Please,” Emma said—not to him, but to the whisper-man. Her voice was tiny and strained. “Please, don’t. Don’t do this.”

“Emma,” he said, a flower of dread growing in his chest. “Emma, no matter what it is, whatever this thing has to say … it won’t make any difference.”

“G
OOD, LOYAL, STRONG, BRAVE, SMART
E
RIC,
” the whisper-man said. “B
UT OF COURSE, YOU
’
RE ALL THAT
—
BECAUSE THAT
’
S EXACTLY HO
w E
MMA WROTE YOU.
”

“WHAT?” ERIC FELT
his center crumple, like bricks tumbling from rotten mortar.
“What?
” He looked at Emma but couldn’t grab her eyes. “Emma, what’s he saying?”

“O
H, COME ON
, E
RIC
. Y
OU
’
RE SMART ENOUGH TO FIGURE THIS OUT
. I
N FACT
, I
ALREADY TOLD YOU THAT IT WAS A MATTER OF
E
MMA
DEVELOPING
HER ABILITIES, BUT NOT ONLY
H
ERE
. R
EMEMBER, SHE
’
S BEEN WRITING HER LIFE FOR QUITE SOME TIME
. S
HE JUST NEEDED TO WORK UP THE COURAGE TO TAKE THAT ONE LAST,
EXTRA
STEP.
” The whisper-man sighed. “H
ATE TO BE THE ONE TO BREAK IT TO YOU, BUT YOU
’
RE
NOT
M
C
D
ERMOTT
’
S CREATION
, E
RIC
. Y
OU
’
RE
E
MMA
’
S.
”

The words seemed to detonate in his brain. He could feel himself beginning to tremble all over from the blasts, the shock.
No, no, no, that can’t be. It’s lying
. But what if,
what if?
His fists bunched.
So the hell what? I don’t care. I have a life. I feel things
. He was real; he was
alive
. He had Casey to fight for, and now there was the promise of Emma to care about. Nothing
could take any of that away, least of all this thing.

“I’m
nobody’s
creation.” He squared off, pulled himself that much straighter. “I’m my own person. I don’t care if I don’t remember everything. For all we know, that’s your doing. But I make choices in a world you know nothing about. You may control this space, but you have no say over me or my life, so fuck you very much.”

“B
RAVE WORDS, BUT
I
’D EXPECT NOTHING LESS
. B
ELIEVE WHATEVER YOU WANT, BOY—BUT
I
’D TAKE A VERY GOOD LOOK AT
E
MMA IF
I
WERE YOU
. T
HAT FACE SPEAKS VOLUMES, DOESN
’
T IT
? Y
OU
’
RE HER CREATION
, E
RIC, THE BOY OF HER DREAMS
. T
HAT
’
S WHY YOU TWO GET ALONG SO WELL
. W
HY YOU
’
RE SO
DRAWN
TO HER
. S
HE WROTE YOU
. M
ADE YOU JUMP RIGHT OFF THAT PAGE, TOO
—
AND
THAT
WAS WHAT
I
WAS WAITING FOR.
”

The whisper-man was wrong; it was a liar and a cheat. Except … one look at Emma’s pale, stricken face and he knew that the whisper-man
was
telling at least a version of the truth.

Emma wrote me into being? The same way Lizzie used symbols and McDermott churned out novels? No, no
. Despite his resolve, he was getting cold, so cold.
Come on, get a hold of yourself. Think this through
.

Emma could have written about a boy
like
him. That could be it, right? Sure, this was a place where the energy of thoughts conjured new realities.

But I
am
alive outside this place. I was on a snowmobile. We nearly crashed
.

But what if this thing was telling the truth? Did that matter? What if things had happened the way the whisper-man said?

That can’t be right. I hope; I think about the future. When I dream of the girl I want, I see Emma
. Yes, but was that because Emma
made
him think this way? No, that couldn’t be, because that would mean Emma had written him into a nightmare of abuse and Big Earl and murder.

No, no, that was an accident. The gun just went off
. What was he thinking?
Emma would never—

“But I didn’t write
you
!” Emma screamed at the whisper-man. “I never wrote a father … a
monster
like you!”

Oh God
. As strong as he knew he could be, Eric felt something deep in the center of his being waver.
She just admitted it. She
wrote
me
. He felt Casey’s hand on his shoulder, but the touch was distant, nothing more than a suggestion.
She wrote
us.
Everything I think I know, all that I am … is because of her?

“Y
OU WROTE HIM A FATHER WHO GOT WHAT HE DESERVED
. B
UT DON
’
T BE SO HARD ON YOURSELF
, E
MMA; YOU COULDN
’
T HELP IT
. R
EMEMBER
YOUR
DEAR POPS AND HIS SET POINTS
? M
OMMIE
D
EAREST MAKING LIKE A TREE AND LEAVING HER LITTLE BUNDLE OF JOY IN A MILLION PIECES
? A
TRAUMATIZED, UGLY LITTLE GIRL WITH NO HOPE, NO FRIENDS
? Y
OU CARRY THE PAST
, E
MMA, AND IT COLORS EVERYTHING YOU TOUCH, ANYTHING YOU DO,
” the whisper-man said. “M
C
D
ERMOTT KNEW: THE MONSTERS OF THE PAST ARE BLOODSTAINS THAT ONLY FADE BUT NEVER DISAPPEAR
. H
E INFECTED YOU
. Y
OU COULDN
’
T HELP BUT INFECT
E
RIC, TOO
. W
HY ELSE GIVE HIM AN ABUSIVE ASSHOLE OF A DAD?
”

What?
Through the sudden muddle in his mind, he felt the words prick like pins.
What does he mean, infect?

“But I never imagined
you
. I never gave you a
name
,” she
said, fiercely. “And I know that I
never
even thought of, much less wrote, a bro—” Her mouth clamped shut.

“W
HAT WAS THAT?
” The whisper-man cupped a hand to Rima’s ear, which tore, releasing a gush of fresh blood to dribble along the girl’s chin. “S
AY WHAT
, E
MMA, DEAR?
”

“
Damn
it, leave her alone!” Eric’s rage finally boiled over. “Just shut the fuck up! I don’t care, I don’t
care
! What does this have to do with her or me or Casey? Huh? If you’ve got something else to say,
say
it!”

“O
H, ALL RIGHT
. H
ERE
’
S WHERE THE OTHER SHOE DROPS.
” The whisper-man paused. “O
UR LITTLE
E
MMA DIDN
’
T WRITE
C
ASEY
, E
RIC.
”

Casey’s hand was still around his arm, and now Eric felt his brother go rigid. “What do you mean?” Casey said. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t let it get to you,” Eric said. The icy dread in his stomach seemed to suddenly thaw. He should’ve known it was lying. Of course, Emma didn’t write Casey: because she’d never written
him
. Daydreaming wasn’t the same as creating, and what he felt for Casey was
real
and so intense he could hold it in his hand. Casey was his brother. That was a given. Nothing could undo that. “It’s just playing games, Case. This is all an illusion; it’s a lie. I’m alive. I’m real, and you’re my brother; you’ve
always
been my brother.”

“D
ID
I
SAY HE WASN
’
T
? I
ONLY
SUGGESTED
THAT YOU BOYS DON
’
T SHARE
 … 
WELL, THE SAME
MOTHER
,
SO TO SPEAK,
” the whisper-man said.

“Shut up,” Emma said to it. Tears streamed over her cheeks. “Just shut up, shut up!”

The whisper-man ignored her. “I
SAID YOU ALL HAVE
GIFTS
, E
RIC
. N
OW LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT YOURS
. Y
OU WANTED SOMEONE TO PROTECT AND LOVE, CARE FOR,
FIGHT
FOR
. E
MMA MADE YOU THAT WAY
. S
HE SET YOU IN MOTION, BUT COULD NEVER BRING HERSELF TO FINISH YOUR STORY, JUST AS
F
RANK NEVER PENNED HER END
. S
O YOU
’
VE GOTTEN LOOSE
. Y
OU ARE SO VERY MUCH LIKE HER IN THAT WAY, TOO: A FREE AGENT WITH FREE WILL
 … 
WELL, WITHIN LIMITS, BECAUSE, AFTER ALL
,
SHE
’
S
HERE, AND SO ARE YOU.
Y
OU ARE ALL BOUND TO
M
C
D
ERMOTT AND HIS STORIES, TO
L
IZZIE, TO THIS PLACE, AND TO ONE ANOTHER, THROUGH THE
N
OWS
AND ALL TIMES
. T
HE POINT
, E
RIC, IS YOU CREATED THE PERFECT VESSEL FOR ME: A YOUNG
MIND
, A CLEAN SLATE OF A
PERSONALITY
WITH ONLY ENOUGH HISTORY TO ROUND YOU OUT, MAKE YOU WHOLE
.
Y
OU
BROUGHT
C
ASEY TO LIFE
, E
RIC
 … 
ALL BY YOURSELF.
”