Contractor (10 page)

circus tent. Her eyes quickly found the

towering stack of history reports leaning off

her desk. "I see I’ve got some light reading

ahead of me. Everyone turned in their paper?

Anything after today is a letter grade off the

top!"

Daniel’s thoughts trailed back to

immediate concerns as she began her usual

lecture. Xik claimed he would need less

sleep, but apparently that hadn’t kicked in

yet. He was too tired to care.

But not even Mrs. Faldey’s vibrating

soprano could keep him awake for long. His

head bobbed, then nodded, then found a

lovely pillow in the form of his folded arms.

He was enveloped in a dreamless nap.

The bell clanged in Daniel’s ears. His

eyes shot open. For a moment, he wasn’t sure

where he was, and then his brain restarted.

School. History class. Tired.

Daniel peeled his face off a bit of drool

that had accumulated on his desk. He

automatically moved to jam his notebook in

his bag, but he hadn’t even gotten it out in the

first place. He shook his head to clear the

cobwebs, and after a slow recovery, he

ended up at the back of the pack leaving

class.

Mrs. Faldey cleared her throat as he

went by. "I saw you sleeping back there, Mr.

Fitzgerald. Have a late night writing my

paper?"

He shook his head. "No, something

else."

"Oh, really? I expect your usual

precision, then!"

Daniel started to turn away. Something

in him skittered. He blinked a few times,

hard.

A white haze surrounded her body. It

formed a thick sheen all the way around her

person, as if she’d been outlined in chalk.

He’d been so out of it he hadn’t noticed.

"Daniel? Are you alright?"

He tried to shake the cobwebs out of his

head, but when he looked back at her, the

outline was still there. "Um…fine. I need

some coffee or something."

"It’s that Mr. Griggs pushing you all

again, isn’t it? That man is incorrigible."

Daniel pushed his lips up in a smile so

false it felt like he was wearing a mask. "I

guess so. See you tomorrow."

Mrs. Faldey sat her arms up against her

hips. "You be sure to go to the nurse if

you’re feeling under the weather, alright?"

"Yeah."

Daniel wandered through the halls. The

bell rang again. He didn’t hear it. His feet

carried him to his next class by habit.

"…Dan? Hello!" Mr. Griggs snapped

his fingers. "Earth to Fitzgerald!"

Daniel jerked his head up. "What?"

The class burst into laughter. Daniel

was still standing in the doorway. Mr.

Griggs sighed. "Everyone’s half dead

because of that history paper. Get to your

seat before I have a hernia." Daniel went

over and sat down as Mr. Griggs muttered

something about Mrs. Faldey.

Mrs. Faldey. She was a shell. Sometime

over the weekend, between when he’d seen

her last and gaining his powers, she’d had

her soul sucked out. Extracted. And now she

was a shell. What the hell was going to

happen to her?

Daniel forced himself awake to avoid

giving Mr. Griggs ammunition, and escaped

English without further event. It was then that

he caught a glimpse of Kyle’s red mohawk.

Kyle was outlined in a band white fog.

He was a shell, just the same. Daniel

watched him carefully, but he was headed

the other way.

He didn’t feel an iota of concern for that

crack-smoking idiot.

But Mrs. Faldey was innocent. Mrs.

Faldey was a sweet old history teacher that

actually cared about people. Mrs. Faldey let

him sleep in her class because he wrote good

papers. He liked Mrs. Faldey.

****

"Hey, um…Mrs. Faldey?"

She stopped with her keys in her car

door. Daniel stood a few feet from her in the

teacher’s lot outside his scholastic

penitentiary. He could feel the black asphalt

under his shoes, radiating heat after sitting in

the sun all day.

"Hello Daniel!" She waited, expecting

him to speak, but when he didn’t say

anything, she started again. "Is there

something I can do for you?"

"No, just…"

Your soul’s been ripped out. You’re

magical residue of your former self. You

have less than a week to live.

"Well," he said, "it’s summer and

everything…I mow lawns to earn a bit of

cash, and I thought I might as well ask, since

I saw you."

Mrs. Faldey’s cheeks brightened with a

twin-dimpled smile. "That’s very nice of you

to offer. You know, it’s just getting a little

high. Do you know my address? Maybe you

could come over tomorrow."

"I wouldn’t mind today."

"Are you sure? You were a bit sleepy

earlier, to say the least."

"I’m young, I can take it. I can do it now,

if you’re going home."

She chuckled. "Well, how about I give

you a ride to my house? You can use my

lawnmower."

"That’d be great."

They clambered into her old Honda

civic. Her weight made it rock slightly on its

wheels as she slumped into the driver’s seat.

The interior smelled like pinecones and old

people. As they started down the road,

Daniel sent a text to Felix explaining where

he was.

It turned out her house was less than a

mile from Daniel’s. The Cape Cod shape

was there, but that was the end of any

similarity. The paint was faded; one of the

shutters was broken. Even from the ground

he could tell her gutters were clogged. The

lawn was an overgrown mess.

She opened her garage. It was

immaculate, strictly organized; a strange

contrast to the outside of the house. She

pointed. "See the gas canister there?"

"Yeah. I know the drill."

"Well, if you get tired, you just come

right on inside. Be sure to kick your shoes

off, though."

Daniel spent the next hour dragging the

lawn mower back and forward over her

savanna. It was flat ground, but the stuff was

so high he had to go over most of it twice.

There was enough dead grass to choke what

remained to death, so he borrowed a rake

from the garage. Another half hour later, he’d

made a Kilimanjaro-sized pile of grass

clippings on the corner of the driveway. He

equipped an old pair of gardening gloves and

started shoving it into plastic bags.

The afternoon sun went low. Sweat

stuck his clothes to his skin. Just as he was

thinking he needed a gallon or three of water,

Mrs. Faldey appeared carrying a glass of

iced lemonade. "Freshly squeezed!"

Daniel stripped his gloves and sucked it

down. He smacked his lips. "Thanks. I’ll be

done in a minute."

"I saw you from the window, and I just

felt so bad I started baking some cookies. Do

you like chocolate chip?"

Daniel chugged the rest of his drink, and

wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Yeah. My

favorite."

"Perfect. Well, I’ll see you in a minute!"

She waddled back inside, his empty cup in

hand.

Daniel finished up and kicked his grass-

stained shoes off before walking in the

garage door. He was glad he did; the wood

floors were polished so bright he winced.

Shiny china filled a long cabinet in the

hallway. Dust was an ancient enemy that

Mrs. Faldey had long since vanquished.

The scent of warm cookies sat in the air,

rich and heavy. He followed his nose into the

kitchen.

A golden horde of cookies lay over the

round kitchen table. Mrs. Faldey honed in on

him before he could reach the goods. "Wash

your hands, you’re not touching a thing until

you get that dirt off!" Daniel obediently

scrubbed off at her sink. "Ok, sit, sit."

He sat at her table. He pinched a cookie

from the table and popped it into his mouth.

It tasted like melted chocolate and love.

A full glass of milk materialized next to

him, and Mrs. Faldey sat with her own cup.

They had a few quiet moments, sharing the

soft bliss of oven-warm pastries.

After his fifth in a row, Daniel sat back

and patted his stomach. "I haven’t had

cookies in forever."

"Well, you’re welcome to them any time

you want." She reached into her pocket and

pulled out a twenty dollar bill. "Is this

enough?"

"More than enough." He put it in his

wallet. "Thank you."

"Oh no, thank you. That lawn was out of

control. I might have to ask you to tackle it

again!"

"…yeah."

"We ought to get you home, then, hmm?"

"Yep."

"Alright then." Mrs. Faldey stood and

extracted a piece of Tupperware from one of

the cabinets. She scooped a dozen cookies

into it and snapped it shut. "Here, take a few

home. You have a younger brother, is that

right? Felix?"

Daniel nodded. A little smile grew on

his face. "These’ll be gone by tomorrow."

"Good!"

The drive home wasn’t eventful. She

pulled into his driveway. Daniel stepped out

of the car, but stopped with a hand on the

door. "Hey, Mrs. Faldey?"

"Yes?"

"…your gutters looked a little clogged. I

could clean them out. I’ve done that with my

dad a couple of times."

"That would be great! Tomorrow, then,

or some other time?"

"Tomorrow’s fine. Can I go to the

history classroom after the last bell?"

"I’ll meet you there, Mr. Fitzgerald."

She waved her hands as if looking into a

crystal ball. "I see more twenties in your

immediate future!"

Daniel laughed and leaned back.

"Thanks for the ride home." He shut the door.

She backed into the road, gave a friendly

honk of her horn, then peeled away.

He could see the white outline of her

shell through the Civic as it rolled down the

street.

****

That night, Daniel went out to the track

by his school. The skies were clear, and the

moon gave him a good amount of light. It was

humid out. His jeans dampened when he

walked through the grass.

He grasped his stopwatch, then set

himself on the end of the track. He

concentrated his power in his legs. A gold-

white light crackled over his clothes from his

hips down to his ankles.

He clicked the stopwatch and lunged

forward. His shoes pounded the track, filling

the air with a repetitive thwack. When he

reached the 100-meter line, he clicked the

watch again, and slowly let himself jog to a

stop.

He glanced down. 7.4 seconds.

He was the fastest man in the world.

He sat down on the track. He didn’t feel

tired. He wasn’t even breathing hard.

The magic, the war—maybe it was all in

his head. He could be sitting in a padded

room right now.

But maybe it was real. And that meant

this was war. It wasn’t a distant campaign in

some unpronounceable country two oceans

away. He was the soldier. He was sitting on

the field of battle right now.

Xik was right—in terms of relevance,

Aplington was a lonely outpost on the edge

of Antarctica. But there was power in

obscurity.

A lonely wind brushed his back. It was

quiet.

Time to hunt.

Daniel stood, pulled on the ski mask

he’d jammed in his pocket, and walked to the

first block near his school. The road

reflected the rusty yellow of overhead

streetlights. He closed his eyes and scryed.

The world turned grey. There was no

longer any difference between brightly lit

and darkened areas. It all had the same

diffuse, ambient light, an overcast day that

went on forever.

He pushed out and away, and he was

floating, a little dot of white fire in the ether.

He drifted toward a house on his left. As he

approached, he could see the searing white

outlines of people through the walls. They

were resting in their beds. The telltale black

splotch of Vorid spawn was absent. He

sighed in relief.

That was not the case in the next house.

A bearish old man was in bed on the

second floor of his Cape Cod house. An ugly

black smudge of ink and smog clung to his

back. He shifted restlessly, unable to get

comfortable, blissfully ignorant of the root

cause.

Daniel drifted back to his body, then

made for the lawn of the house. He put a

hand on his chin and considered his options.

The front door seemed a bit too obvious.

The lights of a car flashed around the

street corner. He ducked between bushes

marking the edge of the old man’s property.

The car rolled past, continuing on deeper

into the neighborhood.

He sighed, then stood. And then he saw

his way in—an ivy lattice was built into the