Crush

10

No one stopped to give him a ride. Whenever the street lit up with the lights of an approaching car, Jonathan turned with his thumb raised, but the cars just sped by, ignoring him, letting him freeze. He ran until his sides ached, then walked for a while. Then ran. He searched the streets, the sky, the yards for signs of a new attack from the Reapers. His mind raced, but every thought was a spark, a mere firefly dashing through his brain, and there were so many of them. It felt like his head was filled with television static. White noise.

At home he went into the bathroom and stripped off his wet clothes, hung them over the shower rod. He turned on the hot water and climbed in. The spray felt like acid on his skin as the heat confronted the cold that had worked deep into his bones. He stood under the scalding spray for five minutes before adding a touch of cooler water. Then he leaned against the wall and let the shower run over him for another twenty minutes.

He dried himself, went to his room, and put on a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt. He put on socks because his feet were still cold. Then he climbed under the covers, pulled them tight to his chin, and stared at the ceiling.

He didn’t even think of turning off the overhead light.

The first thing he did the next morning was call Bentley Books and tell Stewart he was sick and wouldn’t be in today. Stewart acted like he didn’t believe Jonathan’s story, but Jonathan didn’t really care what the manager thought. No way was he leaving the apartment. After the call he gathered up his clothes from the bathroom and walked down the hall to the utility closet. Dropped all of the garments, still damp, into the washer. He poured detergent over them and turned on the machine.

In his room he sat at his desk. He needed to write things down, to make sense of them. He reached to turn on his computer, then paused.

If he wrote his thoughts on the computer, they might be retrieved. David told him once that nothing was ever really erased from a computer. Jonathan didn’t know if this was true. It sounded impossible, but his fear and paranoia were so great, he wasn’t going to take the chance. What if the police questioned Cade, and he told them about Jonathan being there? They might come to question him, might take his computer. They could misinterpret something. They could blame him for Ox and Toby and Mr. Weaver. It was nuts, but it was possible.

He pushed the computer keyboard out of his way. On a plain sheet of copy paper, Jonathan began to write.

Can’t go to the police. What would I tell

them? They wouldn’t believe a thing I

said. Reapers? Crap. Cade could tell

them, but they’d think we both killed Ox

and made up some crazy story. Mr.

Weaver. Toby. Ox. What about Emma? Did

those things attack her? Knock her down

the stairs? She had no permanent damage,

so why did Mrs. Vierra have to perform

CPR? Why wasn’t Emma breathing?

This is about me. It’s totally mental, but

I know it’s about me. But who? It can’t

be David. Yeah, he digs horror movies

and supernatural video games, but so

do a billion kids. They’re just games.

They aren’t real. But who else would do

this? Who else could do this? Kirsty? This

was her first year. The trouble started

when she came to school. But why? She

doesn’t even know me. Not really. Why

would she do this? People are dead.

David is smart. He could have found

something in a book. He had that book.

That occult history book. He said it was

for a class, but what if…David saved

me before. When the Specials had me

cornered at Coffee. He showed up and

got me out of there. David would try to

help me. Wouldn’t he see killing these

bullies as helping me? What about

Emma, though? She never hurt me.

Maybe it was just an accident. This is all

crazy. David wouldn’t kill anybody. He’s

my best friend. He’s not psycho. I’d totally

know if he was psycho.

I have to figure this out.

Jonathan turned the sheet over. He shook out his hand. He needed all of these thoughts out of his head. He needed to make sense of things or else he’d never be able to stop it.

Magic. Witchcraft. These things aren’t just

appearing on their own. They have a

purpose. If it were random, I’d be dead.

They’d have killed me in the lake. What

are they? Ghosts? Demons? Something

else? They wrap around a person. They

hold them until the person suffocates.

They must be strong. Strong enough to

hold Ox. Strong enough to lift him

twenty feet off the ground. They tried to

get Cade, but he locked himself in his

truck. They couldn’t get to him, couldn’t

magically pass through the glass or the

door. They are solid…I think. Is Cade

still alive? Did he go to the police? Would

the police believe anything he said?

Would he blame me? Jesus, he’d probably

blame me. The cops would know I couldn’t

do that to Ox. I’m not strong enough.

They’d know that, wouldn’t they?

What if I am doing this?

Maybe I have some power I don’t even

know about. Is that possible? Is it me?

No. It can’t be. It’s about me but I’m not

doing this. Am I?

No. No. NO!

It’s David. Or it’s Kirsty.

It has to be.

Jonathan flipped the paper over and read it from the beginning. He let the words sink in, and they helped untangle his thoughts.

David.

Kirsty.

He stood from his desk and took the paper with him. In the kitchen, he lit the edge with one of his mother’s matches and watched the sheet burn. He dropped it in the sink and kept his eye on the paper as it blackened and curled. Once it was reduced to ash against the metal basin, he turned on the water and doused the char. With a paper towel, he scooped the mess out of the sink and threw it in the trash.

“Where are you?” David asked.

Jonathan sat in the living room, ears peeled in case his mother returned.

“Something happened last night,” Jonathan said. “Can you talk?”

“Yeah. I’m hiding in the poetry section. It’s totally empty. So what happened?”

“I can’t really get into it right now, not over the phone.”

“Then calling me about it seems kind of pointless,” David said, humored.

“It’s not about that. Well, it is, but not exactly. We need to talk. Can I come by your place when you get off work?”

“Can’t,” David said. “I’m on stud duty. The woman and I are seeing a movie.”

“Kirsty?” Jonathan asked.

“She’s the only one for now.”

“David, we have to talk before you guys go out.”

“I already know the facts of life, Jonny Boy, but thanks for offering.”

“David, I’m serious. Damn serious.”

There was a long silence. Jonathan thought David had hung up on him, but a deep breath, like a sigh scratched through the speaker at his ear.

“Hey? You there?” Jonathan asked.

“Yeah, I’m here,” David said. “Look, I figured something like this would happen.”

“What are you talking about?”

“TAJ, man,” David said, as if it was obvious. “Total ass-faced jealousy. You figure that now that Kirsty and I are together, you’re going to get frozen out. Like we won’t hang anymore or something. It’s totally not like that. I mean, we can’t be kids for…”

“Ox was murdered last night,” Jonathan said to shut his friend up. “Okay? I saw it. He and Cade dragged me down to the lake. They decided to memorialize Toby by throwing me in. Then…” He didn’t know how much he could say without sounding completely nuts, but he had to convince David. “These things came out of the woods. I couldn’t see them real well. They just showed up. They chased Cade off, but they killed Ox. They left his body in the bushes by the lake.”

“No way,” David said. “You saw it?”

“Yeah,” Jonathan said. He struggled against the memory of Ox being engulfed and yanked into the air by a black sheet. “I saw it.”

“Did you call the cops?”

“I couldn’t. I don’t know how to explain it to them. It’s all really screwed up.”

“You said ‘things’ came out of the woods?”

“I can’t explain it,” Jonathan repeated. “Not over the phone.”

“So, what does this have to do with Kirsty?”

“It’s just a feeling I’ve got. It all started happening this year, after she started school.”

“You don’t even know her,” David said, suddenly on the defensive.

“I know. But she’s like always there. She saw what these guys were doing. I can’t think of anyone else,” Jonathan said. Unless it’s you.

“Apparently Special K isn’t just for breakfast anymore.”

“I’m not high, David.”

“You have to be. Think about it, Jonathan. A girl you don’t even know is going around and killing people because they pick on you? Does that sound balanced? Does that sound even remotely two plus two? I mean…Jesus…it’s not like she’s dating you!”

“David, listen…”

“I can’t believe you’re being such a dick about this. Look, man, it’s not my fault you don’t have other friends. Okay? It sucks, but it isn’t my fault. Kirsty and I are having a good time, and you feel left out. Well, tough. I can’t believe you’d make up this kind of crap just to get in the middle of it.”

“I’m not making anything up.”

“Then you’re nuts. You’re paranoid and deluded, and you need to get yourself some meds. And Jonathan, don’t you dare try to implicate Kirsty in any of your paranoid crap. Okay? I’m warning you. Just keep your mouth shut, or you’re asking for a whole lot of trouble.”

“Are you threatening me?” Jonathan asked.

“Just don’t push me, Jonathan.”

The phone line went dead.