THE HOLLOW SEASON CHAPTERS 16-18
THE HOLLOW SEASON
Chapter Sixteen — The People We Love
By morning, nobody wanted to try again.
That was perhaps the strangest part.
They should have.
Steve knew that.
A rational person would have driven east.
Then west.
Taken another road.
Called the police.
Called the highway patrol.
Called somebody and said:
Hello. We appear to be trapped inside Idaho Springs because every road leading out of town brings us back.
Steve imagined the silence on the other end.
Instead, at 7:13 Sunday morning, he made coffee.
Jessica sat at the kitchen table.
Alex sat opposite her.
Jyllian sat beside Alex.
Nobody spoke.
There was dried blood beneath Jyllian’s nose.
Alex had cleaned most of it from her face.
He hadn’t let go of her hand since they’d returned.
Steve poured four cups of coffee.
Then remembered Alex didn’t drink coffee without enough sugar to make it legally qualify as pudding.
He put sugar on the table.
Alex looked up.
‘Thanks.’
Steve nodded.
Jessica stared into her cup.
‘So.’
Nobody answered.
‘We’re trapped.’
Steve sat.
‘Apparently.’
Jessica laughed.
It wasn’t funny.
‘We’re just saying that now?’
‘What would you prefer?’
‘I don’t know, Steve. Maybe something other than apparently.’
‘Jessica—’
‘We drove out of town twice.’
‘I know.’
‘And came back.’
‘I was there.’
‘Without turning around.’
‘I know.’
‘That’s not possible.’
Jyllian spoke quietly.
‘It is here.’
Jessica looked at her.
There was no hostility anymore.
Not really.
Fear had made all their smaller grievances seem ridiculous.
‘How?’
Jyllian shook her head.
‘I don’t know.’
Jessica laughed again.
‘You keep saying that.’
Alex immediately stiffened.
Jyllian squeezed his hand.
Don’t.
Alex stayed quiet.
Steve noticed.
‘What happens if we keep trying?’
Jyllian looked at him.
‘I don’t know.’
Jessica closed her eyes.
‘Jesus Christ.’
‘But,’ Jyllian continued, ‘I think it’ll get worse.’
Steve thought about the motorcycle.
The voice in the boot.
Nora.
‘Why?’
‘Because leaving is against the rules.’
Steve looked at her.
‘Whose rules?’
Jyllian stared towards the window.
Main Street wasn’t visible from the house.
It didn’t need to be.
‘His.’
That was the first time Jyllian had given whatever controlled Idaho Springs a gender.
Alex noticed.
So did Steve.
Neither asked.
Not yet.
By noon, resignation had begun looking remarkably like an ordinary Sunday.
Jessica did laundry.
Steve fixed a loose cupboard hinge.
Alex completed an online assignment he’d ignored Friday.
Jyllian sat cross-legged on his bed and mocked his handwriting.
‘It’s typing.’
‘I can still tell.’
‘That’s impossible.’
‘You type ugly.’
Alex looked at her.
‘You’re annoying.’
‘I know.’
‘You almost died last night.’
‘I know.’
‘And today you’re insulting my typing.’
‘I’m recovering.’
Alex smiled.
Jyllian smiled back.
Then he stopped.
‘Don’t do that again.’
Her smile disappeared.
‘What?’
‘Last night.’
‘I didn’t—’
‘You told Dad to keep driving while you were bleeding.’
‘I wanted to know if I could get through.’
‘You couldn’t.’
‘I know that now.’
‘You could’ve died.’
Jyllian looked down.
Alex waited.
‘Can you?’
She looked up.
‘Can I what?’
‘Die.’
Silence.
‘I don’t know.’
Alex laughed bitterly.
‘Of course.’
‘Alex.’
‘How do you not know?’
‘Because nothing about me works the way it’s supposed to.’
He stared at her.
She looked frightened.
Not of him.
Of the answer.
Alex moved closer.
‘How old are you?’
Jyllian smiled sadly.
‘That’s rude.’
‘Jyllian.’
‘I don’t know.’
Alex stared.
‘You don’t know your age?’
‘I know ages.’
‘That made absolutely no sense.’
‘I know.’
‘Are you seventeen?’
She hesitated.
‘Sometimes.’
Alex’s skin prickled.
He should have moved away.
He didn’t.
‘Sometimes?’
Jyllian nodded.
‘Right now?’
She looked at him.
‘Right now I’m exactly what you see.’
‘And what do I see?’
Her eyes filled.
‘Hopefully somebody you love.’
Alex kissed her.
There was no hesitation this time.
No surprise.
Jyllian moved into him.
Alex pulled her closer.
They kissed until both were laughing for no particular reason.
Then Jyllian rested her forehead against his.
‘You really shouldn’t love me.’
Alex smiled.
‘Bit late.’
‘I’m serious.’
‘So am I.’
She closed her eyes.
‘I love you.’
Alex’s smile faded.
Not because he didn’t want to hear it.
Because he did.
So much it hurt.
‘I love you too.’
Jyllian opened her eyes.
And something changed.
It was tiny.
A flicker.
For less than a second Alex could have sworn the girl sitting in front of him wasn’t Jyllian.
Different hair.
Older.
Then younger.
A different face.
Then Jyllian again.
Alex blinked.
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’
‘You looked weird.’
‘Thank you.’
He laughed.
‘Not like that.’
She kissed him before he could explain.
And Alex forgot.
For now.
Steve lasted until 2:17.
Then he went to the Buffalo.
Jessica saw him putting on his jacket.
‘Seriously?’
Steve stopped.
He could have lied.
He didn’t.
‘Yeah.’
‘After everything?’
‘I need a drink.’
‘We have alcohol.’
‘It’s not the same.’
Jessica stared at him.
There it was.
The sentence that explained far more than Steve intended.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I suppose it isn’t.’
Steve looked at her.
‘Jess.’
‘Go.’
‘I don’t want to fight.’
‘Neither do I.’
That was somehow worse.
She returned to folding laundry.
Steve stood there.
‘I’m sorry.’
Jessica didn’t look up.
‘For what?’
Steve couldn’t answer.
That was worse too.
He left.
Dan saw him enter.
‘Absolutely not.’
Steve stopped.
‘Good afternoon to you too.’
Dan pointed towards the door.
‘Go home.’
‘Can’t.’
‘Sure you can.’
‘No. I literally can’t.’
Dan stopped wiping the bar.
Steve sat.
‘Tried leaving last night.’
Dan’s expression changed.
‘What happened?’
‘Drove east.’
Steve pointed vaguely.
‘Came back into town.’
Dan said nothing.
‘Tried again.’
Nothing.
‘Same thing.’
Dan set the towel down.
‘Who was with you?’
‘Jessica. Alex.’
Steve hesitated.
‘Jyllian.’
Dan closed his eyes.
‘Of course.’
‘She nearly bled to death.’
Dan looked at him sharply.
‘You took her past the line?’
‘Apparently.’
‘Jesus Christ.’
‘She told me to keep driving.’
‘Of course she did.’
Steve frowned.
‘You know what happens?’
‘I’ve seen her try.’
Steve stared.
‘When?’
Dan reached for a glass.
‘Long time ago.’
‘How long?’
Dan ignored the question.
Steve laughed.
‘Everybody in this fucking town does that.’
‘Does what?’
‘Answers a different question.’
Dan poured whiskey.
Steve looked at it.
‘Thought you were throwing me out.’
‘I reconsidered.’
Steve took the glass.
Drank.
Dan watched him.
‘One.’
‘We’ll see.’
‘One.’
Steve smiled.
‘You’re adorable.’
‘Fuck off.’
For the first time all day, Steve laughed.
One became two.
Two became three.
Dan stopped counting aloud.
The Buffalo was quiet.
Afternoon light came through the windows.
Tourists passed outside.
Somebody took a photograph.
A family walked by carrying pizza.
Normal.
Steve stared at them.
‘They can leave.’
Dan followed his gaze.
‘Probably.’
‘Why?’
‘Don’t know.’
‘Why us?’
Dan didn’t answer.
Steve drank.
‘Nora?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Alex?’
Dan looked at him.
‘Maybe.’
‘Jyllian?’
‘Definitely.’
Steve laughed.
‘Fantastic.’
He stared into his glass.
‘You ever lose somebody?’
Dan didn’t answer immediately.
‘Everybody does.’
‘That’s not what I asked.’
Dan looked at him.
Steve realised he’d crossed something.
‘Sorry.’
Dan shrugged.
‘Long time ago.’
Steve nodded.
Silence returned.
Then Steve said:
‘My wife disappeared.’
Dan stopped.
Steve had never said it like that here.
Not to Dan.
‘Alex’s mother?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You never talk about her.’
‘I don’t talk about her anywhere.’
Dan leaned against the back bar.
‘Why?’
Steve laughed softly.
‘Because people get uncomfortable.’
Dan waited.
‘You say your wife died, people know what to do.’
Steve rotated the glass between his fingers.
‘They say they’re sorry. Bring food. Send flowers. Tell you she’s in a better place.’
He smiled bitterly.
‘I don’t believe in any of that shit, but at least there’s a script.’
Dan nodded.
‘Missing doesn’t have one.’
Steve looked at him.
‘Exactly.’
Her name was Laura.
Steve hadn’t said it aloud in months.
Maybe longer.
‘Laura Miller.’
Dan said nothing.
Steve smiled.
‘She hated being called Laura Miller.’
‘Why?’
‘Said it sounded like somebody who organised church bake sales.’
Dan laughed.
‘Did she?’
‘God, no.’
Steve smiled.
A real one.
‘Laura would’ve set the church on fire before organising the bake sale.’
‘Sounds fun.’
‘She was.’
Steve stared into the whiskey.
‘She was fucking impossible.’
And suddenly there she was.
Not literally.
Memory.
Laura barefoot in their Aspen kitchen.
Laura singing badly.
Laura swearing because she’d burned toast.
Laura asleep with Alex curled against her.
Laura yelling at Steve for leaving wet towels on the bed.
Laura dancing with a bottle of wine.
Laura laughing.
Always laughing.
‘We met when I was twenty-six.’
Dan listened.
‘She hated me.’
‘Good start.’
‘Thought I was arrogant.’
‘Was she wrong?’
Steve considered.
‘No.’
Dan laughed.
‘Took me six months to get her to go out with me.’
‘Persistent.’
‘Annoying.’
‘Same thing at twenty-six.’
Steve smiled.
Then it faded.
‘Twenty years.’
Dan looked at him.
‘You were together twenty years?’
‘Almost.’
Steve swallowed.
‘And then one morning she was gone.’
Dan didn’t interrupt.
Steve told him.
Laura had left home at 8:12 on a Tuesday morning.
She kissed Alex.
Kissed Steve.
Complained they were out of milk.
Said she’d stop after work.
Steve told her they weren’t out of milk.
Laura told him almond milk didn’t count.
They argued about milk for perhaps thirty seconds.
Those were the last words Steve ever said to his wife.
‘Almond milk counts.’
Dan looked down.
Steve laughed.
Then began crying.
‘That’s it.’
Dan quietly moved the whiskey bottle away.
Steve didn’t notice.
‘Twenty fucking years and my last words to her were about milk.’
Dan said:
‘You didn’t know.’
‘I know.’
‘She didn’t either.’
‘I know.’
‘Then they weren’t last words.’
Steve looked at him.
‘What?’
‘They were just words.’
Steve stared.
Dan shrugged.
‘Last words only become important afterwards.’
Steve wiped his face.
‘That’s annoyingly sensible.’
‘I have moments.’
Laura’s car had been found two days later.
Parking area outside a trailhead.
Door locked.
Phone inside.
Purse inside.
Keys gone.
No Laura.
Search teams.
Dogs.
Helicopters.
Volunteers.
Steve walked until his feet bled.
Alex was eight.
Eight years old and asking questions Steve couldn’t answer.
Where is Mum?
When is Mum coming home?
Did she get lost?
Can we go find her?
Steve told Alex yes.
Again and again.
Yes.
We’re going to find her.
Yes.
Mum’s coming home.
Yes.
The police are looking.
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
Until eventually people stopped looking.
Steve didn’t.
Alex didn’t.
‘They declared her dead.’
Dan said nothing.
‘I wouldn’t sign anything.’
‘Don’t blame you.’
‘Her parents wanted a funeral.’
Steve stared across the room.
‘I couldn’t.’
‘Because you didn’t believe she was dead?’
Steve shook his head.
‘Because if I buried an empty coffin, Alex would think I’d given up.’
That landed.
Dan looked away.
Steve wiped his eyes.
‘So we never had one.’
After a while Dan asked:
‘And Jessica?’
Steve sighed.
‘Jessica came later.’
‘How much later?’
‘Years.’
‘You love her?’
Steve looked at him.
That question had followed him everywhere lately.
‘I do.’
Dan waited.
Steve shook his head.
‘But not like Laura.’
There it was.
The truth.
‘I’ve tried.’
Dan said nothing.
‘I really have.’
Steve looked towards the window.
‘I kept thinking eventually something would happen. Something would click. I’d wake up one morning and feel about Jessica the way I felt about Laura.’
‘Did you?’
‘No.’
Steve laughed softly.
‘That’s a horrible thing to say.’
‘It’s an honest thing.’
‘Doesn’t make it less horrible.’
‘No.’
Steve appreciated that.
No absolution.
No easy excuse.
‘Laura was it.’
His voice cracked.
‘She was just… it.’
Dan watched him.
Steve struggled to continue.
‘I don’t think everybody gets that person.’
Dan said nothing.
‘I did.’
Steve looked down.
‘And then she disappeared.’
Upstairs, something moved.
Steve froze.
Dan heard it too.
One footstep.
Then another.
Steve stared towards the ceiling.
Dan said:
‘Don’t.’
‘I wasn’t going to.’
‘Good.’
Steve listened.
Nothing.
Then a woman’s laugh.
Laura.
Steve closed his eyes.
Dan watched him.
‘That’s her?’
Steve nodded.
The laugh came again.
Steve began crying harder.
‘Yeah.’
Dan moved around the bar.
Sat beside him.
Neither man looked upstairs.
Laura’s voice drifted down.
‘Steve?’
Steve whispered:
‘Fuck you.’
The thing upstairs laughed.
‘Stevie?’
Steve’s eyes opened.
That wasn’t Laura.
Nora.
Dan whispered:
‘It knows.’
Steve stared at the ceiling.
The voice changed again.
Alex.
‘Dad?’
Steve stood.
Dan grabbed his arm.
‘No.’
Alex screamed upstairs.
‘DAD!’
Steve moved.
Dan held him.
‘That’s not Alex.’
‘DAD!’
Steve fought him.
‘Let go.’
‘Steve.’
Alex screamed.
Steve stopped.
Then another voice.
A girl.
Jyllian.
‘Steve, help me.’
Dan’s face changed.
Steve looked at him.
‘It can do her too?’
Dan whispered:
‘Apparently.’
The voices began overlapping.
Laura.
Nora.
Alex.
Jyllian.
People Steve loved.
People he’d lost.
People he could still lose.
Calling him upstairs.
Then silence.
Three knocks.
Dan released Steve.
Steve sat.
His hands shook.
‘What does it want?’
Dan looked towards the ceiling.
‘You.’
‘Why?’
Dan shook his head.
‘Maybe because you’re finally remembering.’
Alex and Jyllian were lying on his bed.
Fully dressed.
His laptop played some terrible comedy neither was watching.
Jyllian’s head rested against his chest.
Alex played with her hair.
‘What happens Monday?’
‘Monday happens.’
‘Helpful.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Dad isn’t going to stop trying to leave.’
‘I know.’
‘Should he?’
Jyllian thought.
‘Yes.’
Alex looked at her.
‘Even if it hurts you?’
‘Especially then.’
He frowned.
‘Why?’
‘Because I don’t want you becoming me.’
Alex was quiet.
‘Stuck?’
‘Yes.’
‘Alone?’
Jyllian looked at him.
‘Not anymore.’
Alex kissed the top of her head.
She closed her eyes.
‘I forgot what this felt like.’
‘What?’
Jyllian realised she’d said too much.
‘Nothing.’
Alex didn’t let her escape.
‘What did you forget?’
She looked up.
‘Being loved.’
Alex’s chest hurt.
‘Who stopped?’
Jyllian smiled sadly.
‘Everybody eventually.’
Alex kissed her.
Slowly.
She held him.
And for the first time in longer than she could remember, Jyllian allowed herself to imagine something impossible.
A future.
Not eternity.
Not punishment.
Not another name.
Not another face.
A little house somewhere far from Idaho Springs.
Alex complaining about dishes.
Her complaining about his typing.
Years.
Wrinkles.
Ordinary arguments.
Ordinary mornings.
Growing old.
Dying.
Jyllian wanted to die.
Not tonight.
Not tomorrow.
Someday.
After a life.
The thought was so beautiful she began crying.
Alex pulled away.
‘Hey. What’s wrong?’
Jyllian smiled.
‘Nothing.’
‘You’re crying.’
‘I know.’
‘That’s generally something.’
She touched his face.
‘I’m happy.’
Alex smiled.
‘Oh.’
‘Idiot.’
He kissed her.
She held him tighter.
Neither heard the motorcycle pass outside.
Steve came home after dark.
Jessica was on the sofa.
‘You’re drunk.’
‘A little.’
‘A lot.’
‘Probably.’
She stood.
Steve looked exhausted.
Not happy.
Not relaxed.
Broken.
Her anger weakened.
‘What happened?’
Steve sat.
‘Told Dan about Laura.’
Jessica stopped.
That hurt.
Steve saw it.
‘Jess.’
‘No.’
‘I should’ve told you.’
She laughed quietly.
‘You told the bartender.’
‘I know.’
‘Before me.’
‘I know.’
Jessica sat across from him.
‘Do you still love her?’
Steve looked at her.
There was no safe answer.
So for once, he didn’t search for one.
‘Yes.’
Jessica nodded.
Tears filled her eyes.
‘More than me?’
Steve closed his eyes.
Jessica laughed through tears.
‘Don’t.’
‘I don’t want to hurt you.’
‘Then don’t lie.’
Steve looked at her.
‘Yes.’
Jessica nodded again.
It took everything she had not to break.
‘Thank you.’
Steve frowned.
‘For what?’
‘Finally telling me the truth.’
She went upstairs.
Steve remained alone.
Alex came downstairs twenty minutes later.
Jyllian had gone.
He found Steve on the sofa.
‘You okay?’
Steve laughed.
‘Define okay.’
Alex sat beside him.
‘Drunk?’
‘Moderately.’
‘Mum would be impressed.’
Steve looked at him.
Alex smiled.
‘She could drink you under the table.’
Steve laughed.
‘She absolutely could.’
Silence.
Then Alex asked:
‘Do you still love her?’
Steve stared forward.
‘Every day.’
Alex nodded.
His eyes filled.
‘Me too.’
Steve put his arm around him.
Alex leaned against his father.
Neither spoke.
They didn’t need to.
For the first time in years, Laura wasn’t something between them.
She was something they shared.
Across town, Jyllian stood outside the Buffalo.
Dan was locking the door.
He saw her.
Of course he did.
‘We’re closed.’
‘I know.’
Dan looked at her.
‘Steve told me about his wife.’
Jyllian froze.
Dan noticed.
‘Laura.’
Jyllian’s face changed.
Tiny.
Almost nothing.
But Dan had spent too many years noticing almost nothing.
‘You knew her.’
Jyllian looked at him.
‘No.’
Dan stared.
‘Don’t lie to me.’
‘I said no.’
‘You reacted.’
Jyllian stepped backwards.
Dan’s voice softened.
‘Who was she?’
Jyllian’s eyes filled.
‘Go home, Dan.’
‘Jyllian.’
She turned.
Dan said:
‘Does Alex know?’
Jyllian stopped.
For several seconds she didn’t move.
Then:
‘No.’
‘Does Steve?’
Jyllian shook her head.
‘No.’
Dan felt cold.
‘Should they?’
Jyllian looked back at him.
Her face was wet with tears.
‘I don’t know how to tell them.’
Dan stared.
Jyllian walked away.
‘Tell them what?’
She kept walking.
‘Jyllian.’
Nothing.
‘WHAT?’
She disappeared around the corner.
Dan stood alone.
Behind him, inside the locked Buffalo, three knocks came from upstairs.
Dan didn’t turn around.
He watched the empty street where Jyllian had disappeared.
And for the first time, he wondered whether the thing Steve Miller had spent years searching for had been standing beside his son all along.
—————
THE HOLLOW SEASON
Chapter Seventeen — Something in Alex
Alex stopped sleeping alone.
Nobody officially discussed it.
Jyllian simply began appearing at the house after dark.
Sometimes through the front door.
Sometimes Alex would look up from his laptop and find her already sitting on the floor beside his bed.
Once he woke at two in the morning and she was standing at the window.
‘How did you get in?’
Jyllian looked at him.
‘You let me.’
‘I was asleep.’
She smiled.
‘Exactly.’
Alex should have found that disturbing.
Instead he lifted the blanket.
‘Come here.’
She did.
They lay together in the dark.
Alex wrapped an arm around her.
Jyllian rested her head against his chest.
Neither spoke.
He liked hearing her breathe.
That was strange because sometimes she didn’t.
Not for long.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
Once almost a minute.
Alex counted.
When she finally inhaled again, he whispered:
‘You know that’s creepy.’
Jyllian didn’t move.
‘I know.’
‘Are you awake?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you always forget to breathe?’
Silence.
‘Sometimes.’
Alex smiled.
‘Cool.’
He kissed the top of her head.
‘My girlfriend occasionally forgets she’s alive.’
Jyllian opened her eyes.
‘Girlfriend?’
‘Problem?’
She considered.
‘No.’
‘Good.’
‘Boyfriend.’
Alex grinned.
‘That sounds worse.’
She hit him.
Alex laughed.
Then outside, somewhere down the street, a dog began barking.
Once.
Twice.
Then it yelped.
Silence.
Jyllian sat upright.
Alex looked at her.
‘What?’
She listened.
‘Nothing.’
‘That wasn’t nothing.’
Jyllian stared toward the window.
‘Go back to sleep.’
‘Jyllian.’
She lay down again.
‘Sleep.’
Alex didn’t.
But he closed his eyes.
Steve came home at 1:46 a.m.
Alex heard him downstairs.
Keys dropped.
Cupboard opened.
Water running.
Then Steve hit something.
‘Fuck.’
Alex smiled.
Jyllian whispered:
‘Your dad’s drunk.’
‘Obviously.’
‘Every night now.’
‘Pretty much.’
‘Does that bother you?’
Alex opened his eyes.
‘Should it?’
Jyllian looked at him.
Alex shrugged.
‘He’s happy there.’
‘Is he?’
‘Happier than here.’
That came out sharper than he intended.
Jyllian noticed.
‘Alex.’
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’
‘No, say it.’
‘You sound angry.’
‘I am angry.’
‘At your dad?’
‘At everybody.’
Jyllian waited.
Alex rolled onto his back.
‘Jessica gets to make everything miserable and Dad gets to disappear into the Buffalo.’
‘And you?’
Alex laughed.
‘I get online school and a haunted girlfriend.’
‘Charming.’
‘You know what I mean.’
She did.
Alex stared at the ceiling.
‘I spent years thinking if Mum ever came back, everything would go back to normal.’
Jyllian’s expression changed.
Alex didn’t see.
‘Dad would be Dad again. We’d have our house. Mum would make breakfast. We’d complain about stupid shit.’
He laughed bitterly.
‘Now we’re trapped in Idaho Springs and Dad’s drunk every night and Jessica walks around acting like she’s the victim.’
Jyllian said quietly:
‘She is scared too.’
Alex turned.
‘Don’t defend her.’
‘I didn’t.’
‘Sounded like it.’
‘I said she’s scared.’
‘Good.’
Jyllian stared at him.
Alex realised what he’d said.
But he didn’t take it back.
Jessica noticed the change before Steve did.
That wasn’t surprising.
Steve barely noticed anything unless it happened inside the Buffalo.
Alex used to avoid her.
Now he watched her.
That was worse.
Tuesday morning, Jessica came downstairs and found him sitting at the kitchen table.
No laptop.
No breakfast.
Just sitting.
‘Morning.’
Alex looked at her.
‘Morning.’
She opened the refrigerator.
‘You want eggs?’
‘No.’
‘Toast?’
‘No.’
Jessica turned.
Alex was still watching.
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’
‘You’re staring at me.’
‘I know.’
Jessica closed the refrigerator.
‘Okay.’
Alex smiled.
It didn’t reach his eyes.
‘Did Dad buy this house?’
Jessica froze.
‘What?’
‘Not originally. Now.’
‘Alex—’
‘He paid for the windows.’
She stared.
‘That’s none of your business.’
‘Kitchen?’
‘Stop.’
‘Bathroom?’
‘Alex.’
‘Mortgage?’
Jessica slammed the refrigerator door.
‘Enough.’
Alex smiled again.
‘So yes.’
‘Your father contributes because he lives here.’
‘We live here.’
‘Yes.’
‘But it’s your house.’
Jessica’s jaw tightened.
‘We’ve already had this conversation.’
‘No.’
Alex stood.
‘You’ve talked. I’ve listened.’
‘I’m not doing this.’
She walked away.
Alex said:
‘You know he’s going to leave you.’
Jessica stopped.
Alex immediately knew he’d hurt her.
And something inside him enjoyed it.
That frightened him.
For perhaps two seconds.
Then the feeling passed.
Jessica turned.
‘What did you say?’
Alex shrugged.
‘You know.’
‘You don’t know anything about my relationship with your father.’
‘I know he told Dan about my mum before he told you.’
Jessica went pale.
Alex smiled.
‘Thought so.’
She stared at him.
‘How do you know that?’
‘Dad told me.’
That wasn’t exactly true.
Steve had mentioned talking about Laura.
Alex had filled in the rest.
Jessica stepped closer.
‘Whatever problem you have with me, don’t use your mother to hurt me.’
Alex’s face hardened.
‘Don’t say “my mother” like you knew her.’
‘I didn’t.’
‘Exactly.’
Jessica’s voice softened.
‘Alex.’
‘Don’t.’
‘I’m not trying to replace her.’
‘You’ve been trying since you met Dad.’
Jessica recoiled.
Alex felt it again.
That small flash of satisfaction.
Hot.
Pleasant.
Wrong.
He walked upstairs.
Behind him Jessica said:
‘I used to think you hated me.’
Alex stopped.
‘Now I’m starting to think you want me to.’
He looked back.
For half a second, Jessica saw something in Alex’s face that frightened her.
Not anger.
Not teenage resentment.
Something older.
Then he smiled.
‘Maybe you’re finally paying attention.’
That afternoon, Jessica called Steve.
He didn’t answer.
She called again.
Nothing.
She texted:
We need to talk about Alex.
Twenty minutes.
No response.
She tried the Buffalo.
Dan answered.
‘Buffalo.’
‘Dan?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Is Steve there?’
Dan looked across the bar.
Steve was sitting in his usual place.
Whiskey.
Photographs.
Nora.
Laura.
More whiskey.
‘Unfortunately.’
Jessica closed her eyes.
‘Can I speak to him?’
Dan put the phone down.
‘Steve.’
Steve looked over.
‘What?’
‘Jessica.’
Steve grimaced.
Dan held out the phone.
Steve stared.
‘Tell her I’ll call.’
‘No.’
Steve looked at him.
‘Excuse me?’
Dan shoved the phone towards him.
‘Talk to your girlfriend.’
Steve sighed.
Took it.
‘Hey.’
Jessica’s relief turned immediately to anger.
‘I’ve called you three times.’
‘I know.’
‘Then why didn’t you answer?’
‘Didn’t hear it.’
Dan stared at him.
Steve turned away.
Jessica said:
‘Something’s wrong with Alex.’
That got him.
‘What?’
‘He’s different.’
‘Different how?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Jess.’
‘Mean.’
Steve almost laughed.
‘He’s seventeen.’
‘Not like that.’
Steve stopped.
Jessica continued.
‘He looks at me sometimes like he hates me.’
‘He has hated you.’
‘Thanks.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘No. I don’t.’
Steve rubbed his face.
‘What happened?’
Jessica told him.
Questions about the house.
Money.
Laura.
Steve’s expression changed.
‘He said that?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll talk to him.’
‘When?’
‘Tonight.’
Jessica laughed.
‘Before or after you get drunk?’
Steve’s jaw tightened.
‘I’m not drunk.’
Dan coughed loudly.
Steve glared.
Jessica heard it.
‘Right.’
She hung up.
Steve put the phone down.
Dan said:
‘Going well?’
‘Fuck you.’
‘Seems like everybody already is.’
Steve stared at him.
Dan poured coffee.
Steve looked offended.
‘What’s that?’
‘Consequences.’
Alex found Jyllian near the creek.
She was standing barefoot in the water.
It was cold enough that Alex could see his breath.
‘You’re insane.’
Jyllian looked at him.
‘Probably.’
‘Isn’t that freezing?’
‘Not really.’
Alex stepped onto the rocks.
‘Jessica’s losing her mind.’
Jyllian frowned.
‘Why?’
‘Me.’
‘Alex.’
He smiled.
‘What?’
‘What did you do?’
‘Nothing.’
She stared.
He laughed.
‘Okay. Maybe something.’
Jyllian stepped out of the creek.
Her feet were pale.
Almost blue.
‘You need shoes.’
‘Change the subject.’
‘I’m trying.’
‘What happened?’
Alex told her.
Not everything.
Enough.
Jyllian didn’t laugh.
‘You shouldn’t do that.’
Alex rolled his eyes.
‘Why?’
‘Because you wanted to hurt her.’
‘She deserves it.’
‘Does she?’
Alex stared.
‘Whose side are you on?’
Jyllian’s expression changed.
‘Don’t say that.’
‘Why?’
‘Because love isn’t choosing sides every time you’re angry.’
Alex laughed.
‘You’ve been alive for five minutes and suddenly you’re a therapist.’
Jyllian went still.
Alex regretted it immediately.
‘Sorry.’
‘No.’
‘Jyllian.’
‘You don’t know how long I’ve been alive.’
‘I know.’
‘You don’t know anything about me.’
‘I know.’
She turned away.
Alex grabbed her hand.
‘Hey.’
She pulled away.
‘Don’t.’
He frowned.
‘What?’
‘Something’s wrong.’
Alex laughed.
‘Everybody keeps saying that.’
‘I mean with you.’
Silence.
Alex stared.
‘I’m fine.’
‘No.’
‘I’m pissed off.’
‘That’s not the same thing.’
‘Jessica hates me.’
‘No, she doesn’t.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘I know hatred.’
The way Jyllian said it shut him up.
She looked at him.
‘You feel different.’
‘How?’
‘I don’t know.’
She moved closer.
Touched his face.
Alex closed his eyes.
Her hand was cold.
Then she jerked it away.
Alex opened his eyes.
‘What?’
Jyllian stared at her fingers.
A thin line of blood crossed her palm.
Alex looked.
‘Did I scratch you?’
‘No.’
She looked at him.
Terrified.
‘What?’
Jyllian whispered:
‘You burned me.’
Alex laughed.
Jyllian didn’t.
‘That’s not possible.’
She showed him.
The skin across her palm was red.
A narrow mark.
Almost like a brand.
Alex’s stomach tightened.
‘Maybe you touched something.’
‘I touched you.’
‘Jyllian.’
‘Alex.’
She looked around.
Nobody nearby.
Then took his hand.
Nothing happened.
She frowned.
Touched his cheek again.
Pain flashed across her face.
She pulled away.
Another red mark.
Alex stepped back.
‘What the fuck?’
Jyllian’s eyes filled.
‘It’s starting.’
‘What’s starting?’
She shook her head.
‘No.’
‘Tell me.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘I don’t!’
Her shout echoed.
Alex stared.
Jyllian was crying.
‘I’ve seen things change.’
‘What things?’
‘People.’
‘How?’
She looked toward town.
‘It gets inside them.’
Alex laughed nervously.
‘What gets inside them?’
‘Idaho Springs.’
The Buffalo was full by seven.
Steve had promised himself one drink.
At eight-thirty he was on four.
Dan stopped serving him.
Steve complained.
Dan ignored him.
‘You know,’ Steve said, ‘you’re terrible at this.’
‘At what?’
‘Bartending.’
‘You’re still here.’
‘Hostage situation.’
Dan polished a glass.
Steve stared at the old photographs.
Nora.
- 1975.
The pale woman.
Jyllian.
He kept returning to her.
‘She was there.’
Dan said nothing.
‘Jyllian.’
‘Probably.’
‘How?’
‘Ask her.’
‘I did.’
‘And?’
Steve laughed.
‘Apparently evasive bullshit is contagious here.’
Dan looked at him.
‘Maybe she has reasons.’
‘Everybody has reasons.’
Steve drank what remained.
‘Doesn’t mean I have to accept them.’
The lights flickered.
Nobody else reacted.
Steve looked up.
‘Again?’
Dan didn’t answer.
Three knocks upstairs.
Steve closed his eyes.
‘Not tonight.’
Dan looked at him.
‘That’s my line.’
Three more.
Then Laura’s voice.
‘Steve.’
Steve flinched.
Dan waited.
‘Not her.’
Steve whispered it to himself.
‘Not her.’
The voice laughed softly.
‘Almond milk doesn’t count.’
Steve stopped breathing.
Dan saw him break.
‘Steve.’
‘It knows everything.’
‘Apparently.’
‘No.’
Steve looked at him.
‘You don’t understand.’
Tears filled his eyes.
‘That was the last thing she ever said to me.’
Upstairs, Laura laughed.
Then:
‘Come get me.’
Steve stood.
Dan grabbed him.
‘No.’
Steve stared towards the staircase.
‘She never said that.’
‘What?’
Steve’s face changed.
‘She wouldn’t say that.’
Laura’s voice came again.
‘Come get me.’
Steve began laughing.
Dan stared.
‘What?’
Steve wiped his face.
‘That’s how I know.’
He looked upstairs.
‘Laura would never ask me to rescue her.’
The voice stopped.
For the first time, Steve had beaten it.
The lights flickered violently.
A glass shattered behind the bar.
Dan smiled.
‘Think you pissed it off.’
Steve laughed.
‘Good.’
Then something screamed upstairs.
Not Laura.
Not Nora.
Alex.
Steve’s smile disappeared.
Jessica was home alone.
She knew Alex was with Jyllian.
Steve was at the Buffalo.
Of course.
She locked the front door.
Checked the back.
Poured wine.
Turned on television.
Normal.
She needed normal.
At 9:06 someone knocked.
Jessica froze.
Three knocks.
Not the front door.
Upstairs.
She slowly looked toward the ceiling.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
‘No.’
She whispered it.
Dan had warned them.
Steve had warned them.
Three knocks meant don’t answer.
Jessica turned the television louder.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Then:
‘Jessica?’
Alex.
She stood.
‘Alex?’
Silence.
Then his voice again.
‘Jessica, help.’
She remembered.
It knows voices.
She sat down.
‘No.’
‘Jessica.’
Her eyes filled.
‘No.’
‘Please.’
She covered her ears.
The voice changed.
A woman.
Soft.
Unfamiliar.
‘She hates you.’
Jessica lowered her hands.
Silence.
‘Who?’
She immediately regretted answering.
Upstairs, something moved.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Towards the staircase.
Jessica stood.
‘Who are you?’
The woman laughed.
‘Ask Alex.’
Jessica backed towards the door.
The first stair creaked.
Then another.
Someone was coming down.
Jessica grabbed her keys.
The hallway light flickered.
A shadow appeared at the top of the stairs.
Jessica couldn’t see the face.
But the body was wrong.
Too tall.
Arms hanging too low.
Head tilted.
Jessica opened the front door.
The figure whispered:
‘He wants you gone.’
Jessica ran.
Alex and Jyllian were walking back when Jessica nearly hit them with her car.
Brakes screamed.
Alex jumped back.
‘Jesus!’
Jessica stopped halfway into the road.
She stared through the windscreen.
Alex approached.
‘What the hell?’
Jessica rolled down the window.
‘Get in.’
‘What?’
‘GET IN.’
Alex looked at Jyllian.
Jessica screamed:
‘NOW.’
Alex opened the passenger door.
Jyllian climbed behind him.
Jessica drove.
‘What happened?’
Jessica was crying.
‘Something was in the house.’
Alex’s anger disappeared.
‘What?’
‘It sounded like you.’
Jyllian stiffened.
‘Then it came downstairs.’
Alex looked at her.
‘What did it look like?’
Jessica shook her head.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Jessica.’
‘Wrong.’
Jyllian whispered:
‘Don’t go back.’
Alex looked at her.
‘Why?’
‘Because if it entered the house—’
She stopped.
Jessica looked in the mirror.
‘What?’
Jyllian stared at Alex.
‘It doesn’t usually do that.’
Alex felt cold.
‘Usually?’
Jyllian ignored him.
‘Where’s Steve?’
Jessica laughed bitterly.
‘Where do you think?’
They found him at the Buffalo.
Steve was drunk.
Not falling-down drunk.
Worse.
Functional drunk.
The kind that let him pretend he was fine.
Jessica walked in.
Dan saw her face.
‘What happened?’
‘Something was in the house.’
Steve stood.
‘What?’
She told them.
Steve sobered faster than should have been medically possible.
‘We’re going back.’
Jyllian said:
‘No.’
Steve looked at her.
‘My house.’
‘Jessica’s house,’ Alex said.
Everyone turned.
Alex hadn’t meant to say it.
Jessica stared.
Steve’s expression hardened.
‘Not now.’
Alex shrugged.
‘Just saying.’
Jessica looked wounded.
Again, that tiny warm satisfaction moved through him.
Jyllian saw it.
She grabbed his wrist.
Alex winced.
‘What?’
She stared at him.
‘Stop.’
‘Stop what?’
‘That.’
‘What?’
Jyllian’s eyes filled.
‘Enjoying it.’
Silence.
Steve looked at Alex.
Jessica looked away.
Alex pulled his arm free.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Jyllian whispered:
‘Yes, you do.’
Alex smiled.
Cold.
‘Maybe I just don’t care anymore.’
Steve stared at his son.
For one horrible second, he didn’t recognise him.
Then the lights went out.
Darkness swallowed the Buffalo.
Someone screamed.
Dan shouted:
‘Nobody move.’
A motorcycle engine started outside.
Then another.
Then another.
Steve counted.
Three.
Five.
Ten.
The entire street seemed filled with engines.
Red light appeared through the Buffalo windows.
Not headlights.
Eyes.
Dozens.
Jyllian grabbed Alex.
‘He’s here.’
Steve whispered:
‘Who?’
Jyllian looked toward the front door.
Something knocked from the other side.
Three times.
Then the voice came.
Deep.
Calm.
Almost amused.
‘Alex.’
Everyone froze.
Alex looked at the door.
The voice repeated:
‘Come outside.’
Jyllian’s grip tightened.
‘No.’
Alex stared.
For the first time, he wasn’t afraid.
He smiled.
Jyllian saw it.
And that frightened her more than anything else.
‘Alex.’
He whispered:
‘I think I know him.’
Steve looked at his son.
‘What?’
Alex’s eyes reflected red light from outside.
For just a second, they looked almost black.
Then normal.
Alex blinked.
‘Nothing.’
The knocking stopped.
Motorcycles fell silent.
The lights returned.
Nobody moved.
Dan looked at Jyllian.
She looked sick.
Steve said:
‘What the fuck was that?’
Jyllian didn’t answer.
She was staring at Alex.
Because she knew something nobody else did.
The thing outside hadn’t come to kill him.
It had come to see whether he was ready.
—————-
THE HOLLOW SEASON
Chapter Eighteen — Eighteen
Idaho Springs — 1981
Before people were afraid of the motorcycle, they were afraid of the man riding it.
His name was Ray Mercer.
Most people called him Mercy.
The nickname was a joke.
Ray had very little.
He was thirty-seven years old when he rode into Idaho Springs for the last time.
Six-foot-four.
Two hundred and forty pounds.
Hair past his shoulders.
Black beard.
Arms covered in tattoos faded by sun and bad decisions.
He rode a black Harley with handlebars high enough that his hands sat above his shoulders.
The plate read:
SONS
Nobody knew whether that referred to a club.
A brotherhood.
Or something Ray had invented.
People asked less often after meeting him.
Ray liked that.
He arrived shortly after nine on a Thursday night.
Three motorcycles followed him.
Ray parked outside the Buffalo.
The other men parked farther down.
That should have told him something.
It didn’t.
Ray went inside.
The bartender looked up.
‘Mercy.’
Ray smiled.
‘Still hate that name.’
‘Then stop answering to it.’
Ray laughed.
The bartender didn’t.
‘Whiskey.’
‘One.’
‘Bottle.’
‘One.’
Ray leaned against the bar.
‘You scared of me?’
‘Yes.’
That surprised him.
Most people lied.
Ray smiled.
‘I like you.’
‘Wish I could say the same.’
The bartender poured.
Ray drank.
Outside, the three men waited.
Ray had spent fourteen years making enemies.
Women.
Bartenders.
Cops.
Men who owed him money.
Men he owed money.
People he’d frightened because he could.
People he’d hurt because nobody stopped him.
The three men outside had once called him brother.
That had changed somewhere around Grand Junction.
Money had disappeared.
Ray blamed them.
They blamed Ray.
Somebody had spoken to police.
Everyone blamed everyone.
The usual machinery of men who’d spent too many years believing loyalty meant fear.
Ray finished his whiskey.
‘Another.’
‘No.’
Ray stared at the bartender.
‘Excuse me?’
‘You should leave.’
Ray laughed.
‘You kicking me out?’
‘I’m telling you those boys outside aren’t here for a drink.’
Ray looked towards the window.
Three motorcycles.
Three men.
Waiting.
Ray smiled.
‘I know.’
The bartender studied him.
‘Then you’re dumber than you look.’
Ray stood.
‘Nobody’s that dumb.’
He walked outside.
The first punch belonged to Ray.
So did the second.
After that, ownership became difficult.
Four men fought in the street.
No cinematic choreography.
No honour.
Boots.
Fists.
A broken bottle.
Somebody’s belt.
Ray was bigger than all three.
For a while, that mattered.
Then one of them produced a knife.
Ray saw it.
‘Really?’
The man holding it was called Curtis.
Ray had known him eleven years.
Curtis looked frightened.
That pleased Ray.
‘Put it away.’
Curtis didn’t.
Ray stepped forward.
‘You gonna stab me?’
‘Stay back.’
Ray smiled.
‘Then fucking do it.’
Curtis did.
Once.
Ray looked down.
The knife was in his stomach.
He seemed almost offended.
Curtis pulled it out.
Ray hit him hard enough to knock him down.
Then someone struck Ray from behind.
He fell against the Harley.
The bike toppled.
Ray went down with it.
His leg trapped beneath.
The three men stood over him.
Ray laughed.
Blood covered his teeth.
‘That it?’
Nobody answered.
‘Three of you?’
Curtis backed away.
‘We’re done.’
Ray tried lifting the Harley.
Couldn’t.
‘Get back here.’
They didn’t.
‘CURTIS.’
The men ran to their motorcycles.
Ray screamed after them.
‘YOU FUCKING COWARDS.’
Engines started.
They disappeared.
Ray was alone.
The bartender came outside.
Ray looked at him.
‘Help me.’
The bartender stopped.
Ray laughed.
‘What?’
The man looked frightened.
Not of Ray.
Of something behind him.
Ray turned as far as he could.
Nothing.
Empty street.
‘What?’
The bartender whispered:
‘Get off the street.’
Ray laughed.
‘Brilliant idea.’
The bartender approached.
Then stopped again.
Three knocks came from inside the Buffalo.
Ray heard them.
‘Someone in there?’
The bartender didn’t answer.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Ray’s smile disappeared.
‘What the hell is that?’
The bartender backed towards the door.
Ray stared.
‘Where are you going?’
‘I can’t help you.’
Ray laughed in disbelief.
‘The fuck you can’t.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘GET THIS BIKE OFF ME.’
The bartender went inside.
Locked the door.
Ray stared.
‘HEY!’
Nothing.
‘HEY!’
He reached for the Harley.
Pulled.
Pain tore through him.
Blood spread beneath his body.
‘Son of a bitch.’
Then someone laughed.
Ray stopped.
A man stood at the far end of the street.
Tall.
Thin.
Ray couldn’t see his face.
‘Hey.’
The man didn’t move.
‘You.’
Nothing.
Ray pointed.
‘Get over here.’
The figure tilted its head.
Ray frowned.
‘You deaf?’
The man began walking.
Slowly.
Ray watched.
Something was wrong.
His legs were too long.
Or the street was too short.
Ray couldn’t decide which.
‘What the fuck?’
The figure stopped beneath a streetlight.
Ray saw its face.
Then didn’t.
His mind refused to keep it.
Like trying to remember something immediately after waking.
Ray looked away.
‘Help me.’
The figure moved closer.
Ray looked again.
‘Please.’
The word embarrassed him.
He hadn’t said it in years.
The figure crouched.
Ray stared.
Its face changed.
Curtis.
Ray blinked.
‘Curt?’
Then his mother’s face.
Dead twelve years.
‘Raymond.’
Ray stopped breathing.
‘Ma?’
She smiled.
‘Come home.’
Ray began crying.
He hated himself for it.
‘Ma?’
She reached for him.
Her fingers touched his forehead.
Cold.
Ray screamed.
Inside the Buffalo, the bartender covered his ears.
Ray screamed for nearly four minutes.
Then stopped.
Silence.
The bartender waited.
One minute.
Two.
Five.
Finally he looked through the window.
Ray lay beside the Harley.
Still.
The street empty.
The bartender called police.
Ray Mercer was pronounced dead at 10:17 p.m.
Blood loss.
Knife wound.
Simple.
Three suspects were eventually arrested.
Two convicted.
Curtis disappeared before trial.
Nobody knew where.
The Harley remained in police storage for six months.
Then disappeared.
No broken lock.
No paperwork.
No explanation.
Just an empty space where the motorcycle had been.
Three nights later, somebody reported seeing a black Harley outside the Buffalo.
Police checked.
Nothing.
Two weeks later, another report.
Then another.
People began hearing a motorcycle after midnight.
Sometimes they saw Ray.
Sometimes they didn’t.
The stories changed.
Ray became taller.
Bigger.
His face became wrong.
His arms too long.
His shoulders too broad.
Some people said his eyes reflected red.
Others said he had no eyes.
The motorcycle changed too.
People heard it on one end of town while seeing it parked at the other.
It appeared in photographs nobody remembered taking.
A few people claimed it followed them.
Most escaped.
Some didn’t.
Idaho Springs did what Idaho Springs always did.
It explained.
Drunks.
Tourists.
Bikers.
Bad memories.
Mountain echoes.
Until 1984.
Four college kids disappeared.
And Ray Mercer discovered that death had not made him kinder.
It had simply removed the consequences.
Present Day
Alex Miller turned eighteen on a Wednesday.
At 7:02 in the morning, Steve kicked his bedroom door.
‘Police.’
Alex woke.
Jyllian woke beside him.
Both stared at the door.
Steve shouted:
‘We know you’re in there.’
Alex groaned.
‘Go away.’
‘Search warrant.’
Jyllian covered her mouth to keep from laughing.
Alex whispered:
‘Don’t encourage him.’
Steve knocked again.
‘Eighteen years ago today I suffered a catastrophic financial event.’
Alex shouted:
‘Mum did all the work.’
Silence.
Then Steve:
‘Fair.’
Alex smiled.
Jyllian looked at him.
‘Happy birthday.’
‘Thanks.’
She kissed his cheek.
Outside:
‘I HEARD THAT.’
Alex stared at the door.
Jyllian dissolved into laughter.
‘Jesus Christ, Dad.’
‘Kitchen. Ten minutes.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m your father.’
‘I’m eighteen.’
‘Kitchen. Nine minutes.’
Alex threw a pillow at the door.
Steve had made pancakes.
Alex stopped.
‘Oh no.’
Steve looked offended.
‘What?’
‘We’ve discussed your pancakes.’
‘These are birthday pancakes.’
‘Are they less dangerous?’
Jessica sat at the table.
She almost smiled.
Things between her and Alex were bad.
They both knew it.
But she’d put a small wrapped box beside his plate.
‘Happy birthday.’
Alex looked at her.
‘Thanks.’
Not warm.
Not cruel.
Progress.
Steve pointed at the chair.
‘Sit.’
Alex sat.
Jyllian hovered near the doorway.
Steve looked at her.
‘You too.’
She blinked.
‘Me?’
‘Unless you plan on standing there looking haunted all morning.’
Alex choked laughing.
Jyllian stared at Steve.
Steve realised.
‘That came out wrong.’
‘Did it?’
‘Sit down.’
She did.
For several minutes, they were almost ordinary.
Pancakes.
Coffee.
Alex drowning his plate in syrup.
Steve complaining.
Jessica telling Steve the pancakes were raw in the middle.
Steve denying scientific evidence.
Jyllian eating slowly.
Alex watched her.
She noticed.
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’
‘You’re staring.’
‘Allowed. Birthday.’
‘That’s not a rule.’
‘Eighteen. I make rules now.’
Steve snorted.
‘That’s adorable.’
Jessica gave Alex the present.
He hesitated.
Then opened it.
A leather-bound notebook.
Dark brown.
Simple.
His initials stamped into the corner.
A.M.
Alex ran his fingers across it.
‘This is actually really cool.’
Jessica smiled cautiously.
‘I thought with the writing—’
‘Yeah.’
He looked at her.
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’
Something passed between them.
Not forgiveness.
But perhaps the memory that forgiveness was possible.
Then Steve pushed an envelope across the table.
‘Mine.’
Alex opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
He froze.
Laura.
His mother stood beside an eight-year-old Alex in Aspen.
Snow everywhere.
Alex missing a front tooth.
Laura laughing at something outside the frame.
On her shoulders sat a ridiculous knitted hat Alex remembered immediately.
‘Where’d you find this?’
Steve smiled.
‘Garage.’
Alex stared.
His eyes filled.
‘I’ve never seen it.’
‘I know.’
On the back, in Laura’s handwriting:
MY TWO FAVOURITE MEN. ONE OF THEM IS TAKING THE PICTURE.
Alex laughed.
Then cried.
Steve looked away because he was crying too.
Alex stood.
Hugged him.
Steve held him.
‘Happy birthday, kid.’
‘Thanks, Dad.’
Jessica watched.
Jyllian watched too.
But Jyllian wasn’t looking at Alex.
She was staring at Laura.
Her face had gone white.
Alex noticed later.
‘What was that?’
They were alone upstairs.
Jyllian sat on the bed.
‘What?’
‘The picture.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘You looked like you’d seen a ghost.’
She smiled.
‘In this town?’
‘Jyllian.’
Her smile disappeared.
Alex held up the photograph.
‘Did you know my mother?’
Jyllian stared at Laura.
‘No.’
Alex waited.
‘That’s a lie.’
‘Alex.’
‘You’ve lied about a lot.’
‘I know.’
‘Don’t lie today.’
She looked at him.
‘Please don’t ask me.’
That was worse than no.
Alex lowered the picture.
‘Why?’
Jyllian’s eyes filled.
‘I want you to have one good day.’
‘What does my mother have to do with you?’
Jyllian stood.
‘I got you something.’
‘Don’t change the subject.’
‘Please.’
Alex stared.
Then let her.
Not because he wasn’t suspicious.
Because she looked terrified.
Jyllian’s gift wasn’t wrapped.
It was a small silver compass.
Old.
Very old.
The metal was scratched.
A crack crossed the glass.
Alex turned it over.
Initials had been carved into the back.
N.M.
Alex looked up.
Jyllian immediately realised her mistake.
‘What does N.M. mean?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Initials generally mean something.’
‘They were already there.’
‘Whose was it?’
‘Someone I knew.’
‘Nora Miller?’
Silence.
Alex stared.
‘Holy shit.’
‘Alex—’
‘This was hers.’
Jyllian began crying.
‘Where did you get this?’
She couldn’t answer.
Alex stood.
‘Where?’
‘I can’t.’
‘She disappeared fifty-one years ago.’
‘I know.’
‘You weren’t alive.’
Jyllian laughed through tears.
It sounded almost broken.
‘That’s complicated.’
Alex stared at her.
Something cold moved through him.
‘Who are you?’
Jyllian looked at him.
‘I love you.’
‘That’s not an answer.’
‘I know.’
‘Then answer.’
‘I can’t.’
Alex turned away.
Jyllian grabbed his hand.
He pulled free.
She flinched.
The skin on her palm reddened again.
Alex saw.
So did she.
‘I’m sorry.’
Jyllian stared at the mark.
‘You’re getting worse.’
Alex’s anger returned.
‘I’m getting really tired of everybody deciding there’s something wrong with me.’
‘There is.’
‘Maybe there’s something wrong with you.’
The moment he said it, he regretted it.
Jyllian stepped back.
Alex softened.
‘Jyllian.’
‘Happy birthday.’
She disappeared.
Not walked away.
Alex blinked.
Empty room.
The door hadn’t opened.
His stomach dropped.
‘Jyllian?’
Nothing.
For the first time since falling in love with her, Alex was afraid of her.
Steve took him to Beau Jo’s that evening.
Alex insisted Jyllian would come.
She didn’t.
Steve noticed.
‘Fight?’
‘No.’
‘That means yes.’
‘Dad.’
‘Fine.’
Jessica came too.
Alex was surprised.
They ate.
Steve embarrassed him.
The restaurant staff somehow learned it was his birthday.
Alex threatened murder.
Steve sang louder.
Jessica laughed.
Even Alex eventually did.
For two hours, eighteen felt ordinary.
Then they stepped onto Main Street.
And heard the motorcycle.
Alex stopped.
Steve stopped.
Jessica whispered:
‘No.’
A black Harley sat outside the Buffalo.
Nobody on it.
Engine running.
Steve grabbed Alex.
‘Back inside.’
Alex didn’t move.
‘Alex.’
A man stepped from the darkness.
Huge.
Leather.
Long hair.
Wrong proportions.
Ray Mercer.
Steve had seen him before.
- 1975.
Pieces returned.
Nora screaming.
Motorcycle.
Blood.
‘Get inside.’
Ray looked at Steve.
Then Jessica.
Then Alex.
His head tilted.
Jyllian appeared across the street.
Alex hadn’t seen her arrive.
She looked at the biker.
Then Alex.
‘No.’
Ray stepped forward.
Steve moved in front of his son.
The biker stopped.
For several seconds nobody moved.
Then Ray smiled.
Not kindly.
Not cruelly.
Knowingly.
He looked directly at Alex.
And nodded.
Once.
Alex stared.
‘What the fuck?’
Jyllian whispered:
‘Alex, come here.’
Ray turned towards her.
Something passed between them.
Recognition.
Jyllian looked terrified.
Ray looked amused.
Then he climbed onto the Harley.
Steve pulled Jessica back.
The engine roared.
Ray rode past Alex.
Slowly.
As he passed, he said one word.
‘Brother.’
Alex turned.
The Harley accelerated.
Reached the end of Main Street.
Disappeared.
No turn.
No fading taillight.
Gone.
Nobody spoke.
Alex looked at Jyllian.
‘What did he mean?’
She didn’t answer.
‘Jyllian.’
Steve looked between them.
‘You know that thing?’
Jyllian whispered:
‘His name was Ray.’
Steve stared.
‘Was?’
Jyllian looked at Alex.
‘He’s dead.’
Jessica stepped backwards.
‘Of course he is.’
Alex laughed nervously.
‘Why did he call me brother?’
Jyllian’s eyes filled.
‘Because he can see it.’
Alex’s smile disappeared.
‘See what?’
Jyllian moved towards him.
Alex backed away.
‘What?’
‘Something is changing.’
‘You keep saying that.’
‘I know.’
‘Then tell me what.’
She couldn’t.
Alex laughed bitterly.
‘Fantastic.’
He walked away.
Steve called:
‘Alex.’
Alex ignored him.
He walked towards the Buffalo.
Jyllian shouted:
‘DON’T.’
Alex stopped.
Looked back.
His face was different again.
Not physically.
Something behind it.
‘I thought you said the Buffalo wanted me.’
Jyllian stared.
Alex smiled.
‘Maybe I want to know why.’
He entered.
Dan was behind the bar.
Alex sat.
Dan looked at him.
‘No.’
Alex laughed.
‘I’m eighteen.’
‘Congratulations.’
‘Whiskey.’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I like your father occasionally.’
Alex smiled.
‘That’s your mistake.’
Dan studied him.
Something about Alex made him uncomfortable.
‘Where’s Steve?’
‘Outside.’
Dan looked toward the window.
Steve was coming.
Jessica behind him.
Jyllian remained in the street.
She wouldn’t enter.
Dan looked back at Alex.
‘What happened?’
Alex placed Nora’s compass on the bar.
Dan stopped.
‘Where did you get that?’
Alex saw the recognition.
‘Jyllian.’
Dan stared at it.
‘Shit.’
‘You know it.’
Dan didn’t answer.
‘Everybody fucking knows everything.’
Alex stood.
‘Except me.’
Three knocks sounded upstairs.
Dan looked up.
Alex didn’t.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
‘Alex.’
Dan’s voice was low.
‘Don’t answer.’
Alex smiled.
‘Wasn’t planning to.’
The knocks came again.
Then a voice.
Not Laura.
Not Nora.
Not Steve.
A man’s voice.
Deep.
Ancient.
‘Eighteen.’
Dan’s face drained.
Alex looked toward the stairs.
The voice laughed.
‘Finally.’
Steve entered.
‘Alex.’
Alex didn’t hear him.
Jyllian stood outside the window.
She pressed both hands against the glass.
‘ALEX.’
The lights flickered.
The compass needle began spinning.
Alex picked it up.
The needle stopped.
It didn’t point north.
It pointed upstairs.
The voice whispered:
‘Come see what belongs to you.’
Alex took one step towards the staircase.
Steve grabbed him.
‘No.’
Alex turned.
For an instant, Steve saw something impossible.
Alex at eight years old.
Alex now.
And something else wearing Alex’s face.
All occupying the same space.
Then it was gone.
Steve held his son tighter.
‘We’re going home.’
Alex looked at him.
The anger vanished.
He suddenly looked eighteen.
Young.
Scared.
‘Dad?’
‘I’ve got you.’
Alex nodded.
Steve led him outside.
Dan watched them leave.
Jyllian followed.
Jessica behind them.
Four people walking home together.
For now.
Dan looked at the compass Alex had forgotten on the bar.
N.M.
He picked it up.
The needle moved.
Not towards the stairs.
Towards Alex.
Dan whispered:
‘Oh, fuck.’
Upstairs, the ancient voice laughed.
And somewhere beneath the floor, hundreds of dead things whispered together:
‘Eighteen.’
