This River Awakens (21 page)

Debbie continued staring at me, then she let out her breath between pursed lips, her frown fading on her brow. ‘I get it, now,’ she said. ‘It’s okay, Owen.’ I gaped at her.

Leaning forward, Debbie said, ‘Let’s talk tonight, okay? We’ll listen to some records – you haven’t heard my latest ones, have you?’

I shook my head as a flood of emotion filled me. For a moment I feared I was going to start crying, but somehow I held it back. I took another bite from my sandwich, shrugged. ‘Sure,’ I mumbled.

‘Owen?’ William piped up.

I glanced down at him. ‘What?’

He and Tanya exchanged looks, then William turned back to me. ‘You’re eating my sandwich, Owen. What am I gonna eat?’

*   *   *

When I stepped out on to the porch, I saw Father’s bum and legs – the rest of him was inside the machine. The missing half – the words burst into my head like a comet. But no, it was just Father working on the machine. Shaking my head, I descended the steps, walked past him and down the driveway. I looked up.

They were waiting for me, three figures at the edge of the road, Roland in the middle, Lynk to his right and Carl to his left. I felt a surge of excitement. They were just standing there, silent and unmoving. Looking mean, I hissed to myself. There, beneath the shadow of a giant oak, their forms were a dim, swimming grey – grim, deadly.

I could feel my walk becoming a swagger as I approached them.
Mean, vicious, like wolves, or killers.
Giants, waiting to grow. When I came close enough to see their faces those thoughts vanished.
Look at you!
I wanted to scream.
You’re all terrified! You’re all sucks!

My swagger died. Their fear was too palpable; I could feel its echoes rising within me. I met Roland’s eyes, and he looked away.

‘Hi,’ I said uncertainly.

‘We gotta make plans,’ Lynk said, stepping forward. His face looked somehow dried out, old. I stared at him.

‘I know,’ I replied. ‘Where should we go?’

‘The boat’s out,’ Lynk answered. ‘There’s fuckers crawling all over that place.’

‘Launching,’ Roland said.

Nodding, I turned and glanced up the road. ‘Who’re they?’

Everyone turned, and Lynk sneered, ‘Barb and Sandy. They’re in our class.’

The girls were walking towards us, not speaking. In moments they had reached us. ‘Hi, Roland,’ the one with black bangs said, offering a slight smile.

Roland looked down at the ground. ‘Hi, Sandy,’ he mumbled.

Lynk picked up a rock. He sent it flying down the road with a grunt.

‘Any of you seen Jennifer?’ the brown-haired girl asked – must be Barb, I thought – her eyes brushing mine briefly before turning to Roland.

Roland, Lynk and Carl shook their heads. I frowned. ‘Saw her yesterday,’ I said. As one my friends turned to me, and I shook my head and said, ‘After.’

Sandy and Barb exchanged glances.

‘You talk to her?’ Lynk asked tightly.

‘No – yes, sort of.’ I shrugged.

Seconds passed, and no one spoke. I felt the suspicious gazes of my friends on me, thought desperately for a way to alleviate their fears.

Sandy spoke: ‘You guys are weird. Well, seeya later.’

They began walking away.

‘She was in the playground,’ I explained quietly. ‘I was wandering around. She just said, “Hi.” We hardly talked at all.’ At least, I added to myself, I don’t think we did. But there was one thing I was certain of – ‘I didn’t say anything about the, uh, what we found.’

After a moment, Roland nodded. ‘Let’s head down to the river,’ he said. ‘Behind Old Man Fisk’s place.’

I let out my breath, nodded. ‘But let’s make sure that they’ – I jerked my head in the girls’ direction – ‘don’t see where we go.’

‘Fuckin’ right,’ Lynk responded.

Walking slowly, we kept our distance from the girls ahead of us, and at the bend where the road turned right we continued straight on the gravel track that led to the windbreak, and the east edge of Fisk’s field. The girls had kept to the asphalt road, heading for the highway. We skirted the south end of the playground and moments later lost sight of them as we entered the windbreak.

Once inside the windrow we turned left and followed its length down to the thicker woods edging the river. Leaves were starting to sprout on the branches above and around us, and we did not see the river until we were almost upon it. The water level had dropped dramatically in the last week; the banks were steep and caked with mud.

‘Shit,’ I said as I stood looking down on the waterline six feet below me, ‘we can’t even reach the water any more.’

Roland grunted. ‘Back to normal,’ he said, shrugging.

I found a dry patch of earth and sat down. In moments everyone had followed suit. I grinned wryly. ‘Anybody sleep good last night?’

Lynk had been staring out over the river. At my words his head snapped around and he glared at me. ‘Sure. Why the hell not?’

Sighing, I shook my head, turned my attention to Roland, who was sitting cross-legged and carefully stripping the bark from a twig. ‘So, what do we do now?’ I asked.

Roland met my gaze, was silent for a moment, then said, ‘I didn’t.’

I frowned. ‘You didn’t what?’

He studied the bare twig in his hands. ‘Sleep good.’

‘Me neither,’ Carl mumbled.

I ignored him, remained gazing at Roland. ‘I kept seeing his face,’ I said softly.

He nodded. ‘The one he didn’t have.’

I blinked. ‘Yeah, his faceless face.’

Sticking the twig into the earth, Roland shook his head. ‘No, I kept seeing his face.’ He glanced up at me again. ‘The one he would’ve had. When, when he was alive.’

I looked away quickly, frightened by what I had seen in Roland’s eyes. My mouth suddenly dry, I croaked, ‘How?’

Roland found another twig, began peeling bark. ‘Don’t know,’ he mumbled, his wide forehead creasing in a frown. ‘Kinda looked familiar, his face.’ He placed the second twig beside the first one, began working on a third.

‘Familiar?’ I breathed.

He shrugged.

‘No fuckin’ way!’ Lynk snapped suddenly, his voice sounding thin and brittle. We turned to stare at him, but he averted his gaze. ‘No way,’ he repeated. ‘Nobody could fuckin’ figure out his face.’ His fingers clawed gouges out of the mud before him, and his face worked strangely for a moment. ‘It was gone.’ He glared up at Roland. ‘His face was gone, you couldn’t tell fuckin’ nothin’ from it!’

‘I could in my dream,’ Roland retorted, his voice rising slightly.

‘Just a fuckin’ dream, man.’ Abruptly, Lynk jumped to his feet, faced the river. Over his shoulder he said, ‘He came from the city. Somebody fuckin’ murdered him and threw him in the river. He must’ve been frozen in the ice all winter, came down with the thaw.’ He turned to us, sneering. ‘Just some fuckin’ loser, some guy nobody’s ever seen before, and he’s got all of you shitting bricks.’ He tossed his head back and barked a laugh. ‘Now you got him feeling important – fuck, some shitface who’s so stupid he ends up rotting in a beaver lodge. But now he’s important for the first time in his life – only he’s dead!’ With another laugh Lynk turned back to the river. In a lower tone he added, ‘You guys make me want to puke.’

Roland had continued peeling the bark from twigs and planting them in the earth around him all through Lynk’s bizarre outburst, but now he looked up, met my bewildered gaze and said, ‘Not sure. Might’ve been me.’

I frowned. ‘What?’

‘The face. Me, but older. I think.’

‘He might’ve been somebody important,’ Carl said. ‘How’d we know?’

I glanced at him. Carl had also found a twig, and was studiously picking the mud from the treads of his laceless sneakers. He seemed determined not to look up, even as he continued speaking: ‘And how’d we know he was murdered? Maybe he just drowned—’

‘Fuck off, Carl,’ Lynk snapped. ‘The guy was murdered.’ He turned and glared down at him. ‘I know what you’re fuckin’ thinking, man. Go tell the cops. Go say: Hey, look, we found this drowned guy and we think he’s somebody important, so here, take him. And then they pat our heads and off we go. Little Carlie’s got a big silver halo and a gold star beside his name, and maybe Daddy won’t—’

‘Shut up!’ Roland shouted, suddenly on his feet and facing Lynk. His hands were balled into fists and he was shaking. ‘Shut up, Lynk, or I’ll pound the shit out of you.’

Slowly, I got to my feet, stepped back to watch.

To my amazement, Lynk seemed unfrightened by Roland’s threat. ‘Like to see you try.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Yeah, Roland, I know all about you. My old man’s friends with your old man’s insurance agent.’ Lynk smiled, then turned his back on Roland, who had suddenly gone pale.

Baffled, I looked at Carl, but it seemed that he was as confused as I was. Insurance agent? So what? And yet Roland looked deeply shaken. Slowly, he returned to his seat on the mud, sat hunched over with his head lowered on his chest, and resumed building his wall of twigs.

‘Betcha that shitface is laughing,’ Lynk said into the silence.

‘Looked like me,’ Roland mumbled.

‘He hasn’t got a face,’ I said in exasperation.

Glancing over his shoulder at me, Lynk grinned. ‘Roland’s right. He’s got a face, all right, and it’s laughing. Laughing at all of you sucks. Laughing his face off, hah!’

‘He’s not,’ Carl asserted. ‘He’s dead.’

Lynk whirled, took a threatening step towards Carl. ‘You sure about that?’ he asked softly. ‘Maybe he’s just faking it. Maybe he’s coming after you, eh, Carl? He’ll get you when you’re sleeping, Carlie—’

‘Stop calling me that!’ Carl shouted, his face reddening.

‘Carlie Carlie Carlie – he’ll come when you’re sleeping, Carlie. And what’re you gonna do? Sit up and say: You’re dead. Go away? When he’s reaching for your throat?’

‘He’s shitting you,’ I told Carl. ‘The guy’s dead.’

Lynk swung his burning gaze on me, grinned. ‘Fuckin’ Mr Cool talks, fuckin’ whoopty shit. Poor Mr Cool can’t sleep nights, poor boyyy! Bet he just crawls in bed with Mommy and Daddy, I bet. Sucks Mommy’s tits—’

‘Keep it up, Lynk.’ I took a step towards him, a strange calm flowing through me. ‘I’ll bash your face in—’

Lynk’s mouth curled into its usual sneer. ‘Sure, motherfucker.’

I grinned in reply. ‘And I haven’t got an insurance agent to stop me.’ I moved another step closer. ‘Care to try me, Lynk?’ I asked softly.

‘Maybe I will.’

Slowly, I dropped into a crouch, then waited.

Lynk’s gaze flicked to Roland, and then to Carl. ‘The city boy wants to take us on,’ he said. ‘He thinks he can take us—’

‘Not “us”,’ Roland said. ‘Just you.’

There was a flash of anger in Lynk’s eyes. ‘Sure thing, old buddies. Just what I figured.’

‘Lynk thinks he needs help.’

He glared at me. ‘Fuck you, Owen. Just fuck you.’ Again he turned his back, faced the river.

Laughing, I relaxed my stance and stepped away, carefully watching Lynk’s back for any sudden movement, but after a moment it was clear that he didn’t want a fight. Still, I remained standing.

‘We don’t tell anyone a fuckin’ thing,’ Lynk said.

I met Roland’s gaze, then nodded. He hesitated, then returned it and looked to Carl.

‘Okay,’ Carl mumbled.

‘School’s over in three weeks.’ Lynk slowly turned around.

I waited, then asked, ‘So?’

Looking away, Lynk shrugged. ‘So nothing.’ He swung a glare on me. ‘All I was saying was that school’s over in three weeks, for fuck’s sake.’

Roland rose to his feet. ‘His face was mine,’ he repeated slowly, meeting my eyes. ‘Only I wasn’t laughing.’

‘He had a different face,’ Carl said. ‘A stranger’s face, but it doesn’t matter, ’cause he’s dead, and now his face is gone.’ Rising as well, Carl gazed steadily at Roland. ‘Gone.’

Roland seemed unconvinced. With a shrug he turned away and began walking inland. ‘I’m going home,’ he said over his shoulder.

‘Yeah,’ I said, falling into step behind him, and in moments Lynk and Carl followed. We threaded through the shadows, not speaking.

V

Fisk stood behind the screen door and watched Sten’s truck pull into the driveway. He laughed. ‘I told you,’ he whispered. ‘I knew I’d hold you back.’ He flicked his gaze to the field, then grinned.
Yes
– the worm-heads were sinking back into the black mire.

Hearing the truck door open, Fisk turned his attention to the man clumsily climbing out from behind the wheel. He scowled. ‘Bloody drunk,’ he muttered.
Look at him, already dead. Just doesn’t know it yet. A dead man, stumbling around looking for a hole in the ground – look, he’s even got his shovel, hah.
Fisk pushed open the door and stepped on to the porch. ‘G’afternoon, Sten,’ he said. ‘You bring some garbage bags?’

Sten stopped, ran a hand through his greasy hair. ‘Forgot,’ he mumbled.

Fisk shook his head, inwardly gleeful. ‘Well,’ he said, descending the porch steps. ‘Guess you’ll just have to use the flatbed, wash it out later.’

Looking lost, Sten nodded.

‘Pile’s over here.’ Fisk pointed.

Hefting the shovel, Sten walked over to it. He stared down at it, did not move.

‘Don’t smell bad yet,’ Fisk said. ‘Should be safe enough.’
Christ, the guy’s already sweating a river. Wait till he’s been at it half an hour.
‘Tell you what,’ Fisk said, walking over to the truck. ‘Just drop the back. I’ll get a plank and my wheelbarrow.’

Slowly, Sten turned to gaze at him. ‘Thanks,’ he said, ‘I ’preciate it.’

Fisk lowered the gate. ‘Nothing to it,’ he said.
Though sure as hell you wouldn’t’ve thought of it. Mush for brains – nothing left in that skull. Dead man. Hope he knows how to use that shovel. ’Course, if you’re dead, that’s one thing you’d better know.
‘I’ll go get the wheelbarrow and plank.’

‘’Preciate it,’ Sten repeated, wiping his brow.

Fisk walked to the back of the house. ‘With luck,’ he said under his breath, ‘he’ll roll his truck on the highway and bury himself. They’d find him and wonder, “What in hell was he doin’ with five hundred pounds of mink guts?” And I’d walk up and say: “He thought they were sausages, Officer.”’ Fisk laughed. ‘“Was gonna have a barbecue, Officer. Was gonna invite everyone!”’