Bad Things (27 page)

Waves of blood thundered inside Rick's skull as he stood, deafened and trembling. He tried to see past the black splotches swimming across his vision as he fought down rising nausea and staggered into the bathroom. He fell to his knees and hugged the toilet bowl.

He tried to save it and almost drowned too. Carmen was—Carmen was what?

Rick rose slowly, his head aching, his mind clearer, and turned on the cold water, running it into his mouth and over his face.

The laughter began deep in his abdomen, as undeniable and unstoppable as the sickness had been. It burst into his chest, and he grabbed at his throat to stop it, but then it was bubbling out his lips, in fits and snorts, then full-fledged hysterical belly laughs that made him double over.

He tried to stop, but he couldn't. Tears sprang from his eyes, and he made high falsetto noises as he gasped for breath between the giggles that felt so full of hilarity, yet were utterly devoid of it. He felt Carmen take his elbow, and he let her guide him into the living room, sit him on the couch. He laughed as she brought over a box of Kleenex, he laughed as she sat down beside him and said his name once, twice, three times, commanding him to snap out of it. He couldn't. His sides hurt, but the laughter continued like a roller coaster, up and down, rising to the brink of madness, plunging down into an abyss of despair, but it was all laughter.

That's what his dad always said.
Words to live by, Rick.
Thinking it now made him laugh all the harder.
If you don't laugh, you cry. If you don't la—

Carmen slapped him, hard. He put his hand to his stinging cheek and stared at her, hurt. He felt real tears welling up in his eyes, and fiercely he thought,
If you don't laugh, you cry.
The hilarity came back enough to make him laugh slightly.

“Don't do it, Ricky. Don't laugh anymore,” Carmen said. “Cry or scream or yell, but don't laugh. You scare me.” She reached out to pat his knee as she had a thousand times in the past, but this time he flinched back, not wanting her to touch him. He looked at her and saw that her eyes were solemn and sad.

“I apologize,” he said carefully, “for losing control.” If it hadn't been for the chili dogs and tequila shooters, he didn't think he would have reacted so badly.

“It was a very bad thing, about the baby.”

 

 

The first time Ricky had seen Robin doing it with Evangeline was a summer day about a year after the Ewebeans had moved in. The twins were only eleven, and Rick didn't even quite know what he was seeing.

Everyone else was gone, and Ricky had ventured down the back stairs to find something to eat. He'd poured a bowl of Cheerios and was about to get the milk out of the fridge when he heard Evangeline giggle and start moaning. There were grunting sounds, too, coming from the family room. He tiptoed through the laundry room, past the bath and downstairs bedroom, as the noises became louder. At the edge of the family room, he stopped and peered around the corner. Evangeline was lying on the old tweed couch that used to be in the living room, her short skirt hiked up above her bare hips. Robin was on top of her, grasping her thighs and thrusting in and out, his body swaying back and forth. Shocked, Ricky stood there and watched until Robin sensed his presence and looked up. All he did was grin.

Not long after that, he walked in on Robin and Aunt Jade doing the same thing in the library upstairs. No one saw him that time.

Before long, Robin started telling him how much fun it was to screw the women, actually encouraging him to do it, too. Ricky was horrified.

Now that he was nearly fifteen and had had his first encounter with Cindy McGuire, a seventeen-year-old cheerleader who seduced him one night and with whom he knew he would be in love forever, he wasn't so much horrified by his relatives' behavior as he was disgusted.

Even before Evangeline ran away, most of Robin's attentions went to Jade, who was, Ricky realized, a total nympho. In the last year, Ricky had grown six inches, his voice had stopped breaking, and lots of girls called him, either to see if he'd do homework with them or just to talk. Sometimes he'd go to matinees with one, though he still avoided going out at night. He smiled. Cindy said he had great dimples.

The downside was that Jade had tried to seduce him too. No, he corrected, not seduce. Fuck. That's what she did, she and Robin, they fucked. It was filthy, disgusting, and nasty. Sometimes when he passed by Jade, she'd pinch his butt or make a remark about how nice his pants fit. She made him want to puke.

Jade and Robin were not careful about where they did it, and it amazed Rick that Howard had never caught on. But then his uncle was so far gone into his bottle of Jack Daniel's most of the time that he wouldn't notice anything.

Rick had heard his aunt and uncle arguing about sex too. Jade would yell at Howard that he couldn't get it up because he was drunk, and he'd yell at her that she was a dried-up old cunt. Rick thought they both made valid points. Jade no longer looked like the woman in
American Gothic,
but had taken to coating her long, horsey face with vast amounts of makeup, ratting her dyed brown hair into a big bubble-shaped helmet, and wearing clothes meant for teenage girls. She had the body for it, but not the face. She also had pictures of the Beatles all over the house, especially Paul McCartney. It was completely creepy.

Evangeline had been gone for less than a week when Jade announced she was pregnant. She and Howard got into a screaming match that night after he asked whose it was. “It's yours, of course,” she'd maintained, and Ricky couldn't hear exactly what he said, but it had something to do with his preferring a maggoty whore over his wife. After that comment, there was a loud crash. The next day, Howard had a shiner.

Now Paul George Ewebean, a handsome little boy with the midnight blue eyes of the Piper clan, was almost two years old. Jade paid no attention to the child, leaving his care to Carmen. Almost immediately after he was born, Carmen began taking Paulie to her house at night, which made Rick, who found he really liked the child, rest easier.

As much as he could, Rick spent time with Paulie, too, reading him stories out of his old Little Golden Books that Carmen had retrieved from an attic trunk, putting him in a stroller and taking him for walks around town, and even telling him the greenjack stories.

All the while, he wondered if the baby could see them.

He and Carmen tried to keep Robin away from the baby, although sometimes, when Howard wasn't around, Jade would commandeer the child and hand him to Robin straight out, giggling and sniffing and saying, “That's your dada, that's why you're so handsome, not like your ugly pretend dada.” Robin would throw the baby up in the air and catch him again. If he tried to take Paul outside, Rick always followed.

Last July Rick became fairly certain that Paul had the sight. While he and the boy were watching TV one evening—no one else was home—he opened the drapes in the living room. Greenjacks were everywhere, their movement constant and energetic. As always, he looked briefly for the quiet, still one he'd occasionally spotted over the years, but it was nowhere to be seen.

“Here goes,” he whispered, turning Paul so that he could see out the window. Immediately the baby cooed and gurgled and began to laugh, his little arms going out, reaching for the glass.

“See them, Paulie?” Rick asked, trying to remain calm. “Do you see the jacks?”

Paulie laughed until several of the creatures merged just outside the window. Then he drew back and sobbed, hiding his face on Rick's shoulder.

“It's okay, Paulie,” he murmured, shutting the drapes. “They can't have you. I'm going to tell you a story about your ancestor, Thomas McEnery Piper, and how they almost got him.” He rubbed his nose on Paul's, making him giggle happily. “But they didn't. And they won't get you either. I'll make sure.”

From that moment on, Rick knew that he had to protect this child, and in many ways, that was the best summer of Rick's life. Having someone else to worry about helped make him strong, gave him purpose. He told Carmen that he'd like to have the toddler move into his room with him, and Carmen soon agreed. Rick became more watchful than ever.

Then, on Halloween night 1980, when Paulie was almost two years old, everything changed.

Since the night Big Jack had claimed Robin, Rick had been very careful not to be alone on the thirty-first. He usually spent the time until midnight, when the physical danger was over, with Carmen or at a friend's. He preferred Carmen because he never had to drum up an excuse to not go out. That other Halloween, over seven years ago, seemed like a vivid dream now, but it still worried him, especially because of Paulie.

This year, as usual, Jade and Howard had gone to the Dew Drop Inn, a sleazy roadhouse just outside of town on Cub Road. The Dew Drop was having a party featuring bobbing for apples (in beer) and a “naughty” costume–cum–wet–T-shirt contest that promised a grand prize of a ten-dollar gift certificate to Frederick's of Hollywood. Since the Dew Drop was where Howard spent a good deal of time with rednecked buddies, he was happy to go drink while Jade flaunted her boobs in competition for the fancy underwear.

Rick watched them leave that night. Howard wore what he always wore: rump-sprung jeans and a short-sleeved plaid shirt. Jade had a butt-length red T-shirt on that she'd drawn a Star Trek insignia on, black panties, no bra, fishnet nylons, old Beatles boots, and Spock ears. She'd put her hair up and drawn her pale eyebrows into Vulcanian shape. Rick had to laugh: With her long-jawed face and squinty eyes, she looked like Mr. Spock in drag, rather than the Vulcan's main squeeze.

Carmen and Hector came over as soon as the Ewebeans left, and Robin was off with some sleazy kids from school traveling around the neighborhood even though they were too old to trick-or-treat. Robin had invited Rick along, goadingly informing him he had to bring his own eggs and toilet paper. As always, Rick declined.

The Zapatas, Rick, and Paulie had dinner, then passed out candy until nine
P.M
. After that, they turned out the porch light, turned on the TV, and dug into the huge pumpkin pie Carmen had made.

At ten, Hector kissed his wife and went home to bed. Full of pie and candy, Paulie had curled up in the old recliner in the corner. Carmen and Rick sat on the couch nearby and watched television, both glancing often at the baby, both mindful of noises from outside and in, watching for Robin, for Big Jack too.

They were keeping Halloween vigil, as they had for seven years. Before, it was to protect Rick, and now it was to protect the baby, too. Carmen would remain here until after midnight—when Big Jack's power dissipated—then Rick would take Paulie upstairs to his room and lock them in. Paulie slept on the sofa bed, just as Rick had, years before.

But that would come later. Now the fireplace crackled warm, comfortable heat into the living room. Rick's eyes grew heavy and his head would start to droop and he'd jerk awake. He kicked his shoes off and stretched his toes toward the fire. Beside him, Carmen had drifted off and was snoring softly. He wouldn't wake Carmen, he decided; it was less than an hour until midnight, and he could stay awake until then easily. Yawning, he turned his attention back to the Creature Features Halloween marathon. They were showing
The Creature from the Black Lagoon,
which he'd seen about a trillion times. He rubbed his eyes. You'd think they could show something newer tonight of all nights. He yawned again. Something in color.

Ricky bolted upright, disoriented and frightened. Beside him, Carmen continued to sleep.

“Ricky!”

Faintly he heard Robin calling him from somewhere outside.

He sat up and glanced at the recliner. The baby wasn't there.

Rising, he ignored the little jacks' taunts. “Paul?” he whispered. “Paulie?”

He automatically glanced at the grandfather clock across the room. Quarter to twelve. He'd been asleep for, God, at least half an hour, maybe more. The baby could be anywhere. He turned to wake Carmen, then stopped as he heard the voices.

Ricky didn't like to talk to Carmen about the greenjacks anymore. He didn't want to be a coward.

“Ricky!” came Robin's faraway cry. “Hurry! Ricky! Help!”

He noticed that the front door didn't look right: The heavy black bolt had been pulled back.

With a last glance at Carmen, he raced to the door, determined that for once, he was going to be brave.

“Ricky!” Robin called.

Rick walked out into the night.

“Shut up,” he whispered.

“Ricky!”

The Malibu lights, the filthy few that still worked, cast little light, but as Ricky squinted in the direction of the voice, they served to backlight Robin's legless long-armed form as he waved from near the now-putrefied koi pond. The rocky waterfall bubbled behind him. Glancing around, Rick saw no sign of Big Jack.

“God,” Ricky whispered, seeing Paulie's silhouette rise from a squat beside him. The baby waved, and Rick heard his delighted giggle. “No,” he whispered.