Copperback (9 page)

I
had been asleep for hours, but had no idea what time it was, when I suddenly
awoke from my dreamless sleep. I thought I had heard screaming, but there was
only the muffled sound of the clock in the kitchen ticking away the minutes. I
had to have imagined it. I sat and waited, hoping my mind had being playing a
trick on me. Maybe it had been the start of a dream never finished. Looking
around, everything was still in the house. The lights were off, with the living
room illuminated only by the glow of the television on a late night
infomercial. Sally had picked up my plate from earlier, and had more than
likely muted the TV before leaving. I was still wiping the sleep from my eyes
when I heard it again. This time there was no imagining anything. I had heard
that gut-wrenching scream before. It was a sound I had never wanted to hear
again.

As
soon as it started up, it seemed to be choked off in the middle, as though
someone had been holding their hand over his mouth to stop him. He was silent
again. I couldn’t even hear the clock ticking over my rapid heartbeat pounding
in my ears. Something was wrong, and I was having a hard time just getting up
to go see. Part of it was terror that I would go down there and wouldn’t be
able to do anything but watch. The other part was a dread that I was too late,
and didn’t want to go down and find Job’s body lying there, lifeless.

Again
there was the howl of pain, this one lasting longer than the others before
being cut off. I pulled myself up, my legs feeling like dead weights as I
desperately tried to move. It felt like I was moving in slow motion, no matter
how much effort I put into getting through the kitchen and down the stairs. I
had no idea what to expect when I entered his room.

Before
getting to the final step, I could see the pillows that had been kicked to the ground.
One had come to a rest at the foot of the stairs. I half expected to see that
he had tried to get up and leave on his own, a feat I knew would be nearly
impossible without major consequences. Reaching the bottom, I stared in wonder.

What
I was witnessing almost couldn’t be described. I had never seen anything like
it. He was still on the bed, but only partially. The sheet had been bunched up
and tossed to the side, only covering part of his good leg. Where his other leg
was supposed to be, there was only the splint. It was still fully formed, as if
encasing his leg and ankle like before, but where his foot should have been,
there was only the shape of it, made entirely of swirling sand the same color
as his skin. It traveled up his leg, above the splint, then reformed to skin
across his knee and thigh. The left side of his torso was intact, fading out to
more of the moving sand where the right side should have been. The only thing
left was the bandage and tape that had been covering the deep stitches in his
side. It was saturated in red, and may have been a sign that the stitches had
come apart due to the stress it was under. The shift climbed up his side and
into his shoulder, leaving only his arm. Even his hand had shifted, and was the
churning outline of a fist. Most of his face and neck had transformed, with only
the right eye, which was closed, unaffected.

There
was no sound coming from the gaping mouth of particles. Almost every injury had
shifted, creating the shape of his body, but almost translucent. I could see
the sheet underneath his head through his altered face. I watched as the
swirling suddenly started to take form again, becoming whole. As it reached his
mouth, the ear-shattering cry picked up where it had left off. Every vein in
his arms and neck bulged against the pain, and his entire body glistened with
beads of sweat.

He
didn’t even know I was down there, too consumed with his own problems. I wasn’t
sure if the shifts were causing the pain, or if the pain was causing the
shifts. Either way, it wasn’t stopping on its own, and I had no idea how long
he could keep this up. The cell phone was still lying on the floor where I had
set it the afternoon before. I considered calling Sally, to see if she had any
suggestions on how to stop what was going on. I had a feeling she would be just
as puzzled as I was. I had to do something, and quick. The anxiety was clouding
my brain. Desperate thoughts buzzed around in my head –
Think, Emily. Think.
Think…Copper.

I
remembered that copper stopped the shifts, but the knife that had been removed
from his side was with Sally. It would take too long for her to get here. Where
was an old copper penny when you needed one? I remember a time when it was easy
to find one on the sidewalk, discarded by the unimportant value of one cent,
but times had changed, and they had become a precious metal. If only.

I
didn’t hesitate, running up the stairs and straight to my room, my feet
carrying me swiftly across the linoleum and carpet. In my dresser was the
answer to my dilemma. It was now a matter of locating it. I dumped each drawer
out on my bed, rummaging through the contents. At last I found it, in the black
velvet box I had put it away in.

Hanging
from a silver chain was the penny my mom had given to me when I was just a
child. Across the bust of Lincoln, someone had punched out a heart shaped hole.
It was a novelty gift bought at a small shop along the beach in South Carolina
while we were on vacation. I still remember begging my mom to get it for me
because it was so unique. At the time, I never would have thought this little
trinket one day might be a life-saving tool.

Tearing
it from its box, I rushed back to the sounds of misery coming from the
basement. I reached the bed in time for them to be muted again. I fumbled with
the cheap clasp, my hands shaking violently to the rhythm of my fluttering
heart. I wasn’t even sure if just its contact would stop his screams, but it
was better than nothing.

The
coin touched his shape of a throat, and instantly his skin began to reform to a
solid mass. Its effect spread throughout the rest of his body, and the scream
began again. For a moment, I considered taking it back off, but chose to ignore
that impulse. I would at least give it a few minutes. I pulled the chain around
his neck, clasping it behind his head. His skin wasn’t nearly as hot as before,
and I assumed that his fever had broken. The feel of my shaking hands must have
alerted him to my presence, for the wails died down to a whimper. At last they
stopped, and he opened his eyes, still filled with fear. I couldn’t help but
jump back, remembering the last time he had been startled. My wrist was still
sore from his grip.

I
wasn’t sure what to say. I knew I had to say something, but the fear he might
be feeling couldn’t compare to how terrified I was. “J–Job? I’m Em–Emily. Do
you remember me?” I wasn’t expecting a reply. He stared at me intently with his
wide brown eyes, as if to respond just by his look.

Now
that he had stopped shifting from solid to sand and back again, it was easy to
see that a lot of the swelling around his eye had come down, allowing him to
see with both. The coloration had gotten worse, creating a kaleidoscope of
blacks and purples with faded edges of green and orange. Perspiration clung to
his skin, and his hair was soaked.

“You
know that you were beat up pretty bad. You’re going to have to stay here for a
while.” He seemed to understand everything that I was saying, and his body
relaxed a bit, not nearly as scared as before. I still didn’t want to move any
closer, afraid he would grab for me again and this time not let go. I held my
hands out of the way behind my back, keeping out of reach.

 “I
need to check your stitches. I’m not going to try to hurt you, but I’m sorry if
I do.”

Staying
close to the wall, I scooted around the bed, keeping my distance. I pulled out
a fresh dressing and tape, and proceeded to remove the bloodied one, watching
his hand closely for any sudden moves. Pulling the dressing back, the wound looked
better than it had the first night, with just a small amount of blood collected
between each stitch. Most of it appeared to be healed over, but I wasn’t about
to make that decision without Sally’s opinion. I placed the clean pad over the
wound and taped it in place, quickly backing away again. Looking up at him, his
expression was more of a curious one than anything. He looked interested in everything
I was doing. He glanced down at his leg and back at me, as though he was asking
what was wrong.

“Your
leg has a really bad break. Sally did everything she could to fix it, but I
need you to try not to move it, if you can. Okay?”

I
collected the scattered pillows on the ground, rounding them up to place back
under his leg. I could tell he was starting to panic again by the grip on the
bed sheets and the tenseness of his body. He must have been recalling the
previous night, and worried that this was going to be the same. It wasn’t worth
putting him through any more trauma; I placed the pillows on the chair next to
him. It was something that could wait till later.

“I’ll
be right back. I’m going to go get you some ice and some water. I’m not sure if
you’re hungry, but there is some leftover chicken in the fridge, if you want
it?” His eyes got wide, like everything I was offering sounded great. I could
almost see a hint of a smile.

My
legs were starting to ache from the constant up and down of the staircase. It
wasn’t that I wasn’t in shape, but I never much cared for a stair climber
machine, so why would I like this now? The less trips the better. If there was
anything else I needed, I wanted to grab it on this ascent. I was trying to
think of anything I missed, and remembered the list that Sally had left,
sitting in my room. It was still on the dresser, half unfolded where I had last
left it.

Looking
around the bedroom, I noticed that I had made a mess of clothes and empty
drawers. The comforter was still balled up on the floor. It was late, and I had
no desire to pick it up now. If I wasn’t going to use it tonight, though, at
least it might get some use downstairs. There was no need to show him how much
of a slob I had been in just the last couple days, so I took the time to fold
it up neatly and carry it out into the kitchen with me.

In
the fridge was the chicken, still in its little plastic container. The only
thing missing from it was the part I had taken earlier. The thought of food
made me hungry again, and I grabbed the entire container and two bottles of
water, tossing the bags of ice on top of the comforter. Balancing everything in
my arms, holding the bottles with my chin, I prayed that I wouldn’t go falling
blindly down the stairs, since I couldn’t see them. I took one step at a time,
looking out the corner of my eye, hoping to see the edge of the frame before I
stepped forward too soon.

My
view was blocked by the burden I was carrying, and it was difficult trying to
maneuver around the bed. I amazed myself by not running into anything. I set
everything down on an empty spot on the bed, making sure the bottles didn’t
roll off, so I wouldn’t have to chase after them. There was something different
about the room I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

Everything
was where it belonged. Job was in the bed, crumpled sheet at the bottom of the
mattress, pillows tucked back under his leg…

“You
did this yourself? I thought I had told you not to move it?” I felt like I was
training a puppy that had just peed on the carpet. All I needed was a rolled up
newspaper to swat him on the nose. I probably would have looked for one, but he
was already paying the price for his actions, his hand gripping his side again,
protecting the broken ribs that were still healing. It was hard not to feel
sorry for him. “Why?”

I
knew there would be no verbal answer to my question. His body language was
doing the talking. Through gritted teeth the corners of lips turned up, forcing
a partial smile, eyebrows raised. It was a pathetic gesture I would have
expected from a typical male. He may have been from another world or even
galaxy, but he was still a guy, through and through. I couldn’t help myself but
to roll my eyes and smile back. It broke the tension in the room, and I was
able to feel a little more at ease. The fear of him was still there, but had
moved further back in my mind.

“So,
tough guy, since you’re feeling so much better, did you want me to feed you, or
sit up and eat yourself?” I half expected him to continue lying there, waiting
for me to serve him hand and foot, but instead, he used his arm to push himself
up, grimacing the entire time. I could see it was a strain getting into even a
halfway seated position.

I
slid the comforter from under the armload of items I had carried down and
worked my way over to my usual chair, pulling up the back end of the sleeper
and arranging the comforter so he could lean back. It was hard not to notice
the purple bruises running along his shoulders and back. One – across his right
shoulder blade and side – resembled a boot print where he had been kicked or
stomped on, more than likely breaking his ribs in the process. It sickened me to
see how someone could do something like this to anyone. Provoked or not, there
was no reason for such brutality.

He
leaned back and noticed the look of disgust on my face. He bent his head down
away from me in the same dejected appearance I had first seen him, back at the
inn, as though he was ashamed of the way I saw him. I knew no words could make Job
feel any different. I had to find a way to take his mind off of it and get him back
here in the room with me. Snatching the chicken and bottles of water in hopes
of distraction, I leaned over and held out a bottle, shaking it. His head
started to rise, tempted by the refreshment I was offering, reaching up to take
it. Instead he took my arm in his hand, causing me to drop the water into his
lap.