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BOOK 3: GOD MEN
Chapter 15: Death Has A Sound | Chapter 16: Confronted |
,It had been five days since Zac had tried to downplay just how disturbing his encounter with John Gervais and his mother had been, knowing full well that Ben wasn’t buying any of it.
It had been five days since Zac had told John he was no longer welcome in his life and the odd interloper in the big black peacoat had begun to keep a respectful distance, making their time together in Ms. Pembroke’s marine biology class downright agonizing.
It had been five days since Zac made a strategic mistake by telling his father that the loss of his cell phone was not due to John crushing it in his bare hands — how could he possibly have told him that — but because he’d lost it at Major Tom’s Retro Arcade. Not surprisingly, Robert Dryden had been unsympathetic to such carelessness and told Zac he needed to come up with a replacement himself, or resign himself to being the only teenager in Hidden Rock without a piece of high tech in his pocket.
But now a new, moderately expensive smart phone, still in its shrink-wrapped box, had materialized on his front porch. Its appearance had been carefully timed so Zac would find it after his walk home from school but long before his father got off work. An attached and unsigned note read simply:
Sorry about your phone. Hope you can use this one.
Although the note was likely sincere, Zac couldn’t help but wonder what it meant if he accepted the phone? Would John assume they could start hanging out again? Zac couldn’t even fathom that. In the end, his moral dilemma wasn’t as persuasive as his need to be constantly connected to the internet and he tore open the box.
John watched from the tree tops as Zac tossed the empty phone box into the dumpster on the side of the house, but he didn’t feel any better just because the gift had been accepted. Zac had made it very clear that he didn’t want John around, yet here he was, still hiding in the forest canopy, not to watch Zac but rather to watch out for him. Even if Zac understood that distinction, John was certain he wouldn’t, in his current frame of mind, appreciate it.
If John’s high altitude observations had proved anything, it was that Zac and his father had no idea who they really were. They were like people who’d lived their lives in a witness protection program without ever knowing it. This was a bizarre notion for John who’d changed homes and identities so often he could barely remember them all. The only thing about him that had remained constant in all that time was his first name. He’d always been John. It was weird for him to encounter people like the Drydens, who were so much like him but who’d always been just themselves. It must’ve been a wonderful way to live, he thought.
Over the next six hours, John checked and rechecked the perimeter around Zac’s house like a guard walking sentry duty. Since Zac had sensed his presence twice before, he had prudently moved deeper into the woods and remained entirely in the canopy so as not to leave footprints on the soft, wet earth. The only time he left the trees was when a cougar had roamed into the front yard, lured in by the scent of pork chop bones in the trash. John dropped down in front of the cat, who had immediately let out a penitent cry and skulked away.
At midnight, his mother started texting him. DID YOU FIX THINGS?? she asked.
John chewed his lip. Outside of blatantly lying to her, nothing he could write back would make her happy. He chewed his lower lip and chose to send as vague a response as possible. WORKING ON IT, he wrote.
Her reply was immediate: NOT ACCEPTABLE FIX IT JOHN!!!
THEY CANT HELP US. THEY R HIDDEN.
YOU DONT KNOW THAT
I DO. SO OBVIOUS!!! FORCING THEM COULD HURT THEM
DONT CARE. THIS IS ON YOU
Now thoroughly irritated, John snapped the phone shut and stuck it in his hip pocket. His whole body had begun to ache, a rare sensation for him. Between watching the Dryden’s house and laying awake worrying about the Drydens, he hadn’t slept more than three hours a night in the past week nor completed a single homework assignment. And all his effort and worry wouldn’t change the bottom line: the Drydens had no secret covenant with the supernatural; no special communication line to the Divine; no unclaimed favors with the Gods that would prevent his mother’s time on Earth from coming to its natural end.
Once it started to rain, John decided to call it a night. He leapt from tree to tree until he was a few yards from where he’d concealed his car. Upon hitting the ground, the hair on the back of his neck began to tingle. He immediately tried to dissolve back into the darkness but it was too late. Two flashlight beams struck him full in the face.
“You’re like a goddamn ninja, aren’t you?” a voice said in the darkness. Ben Sher stepped closer and ran the light up and down John’s body like he was looking for evidence of foul play. “You’re fucking pathetic, man,” he snarled.
John ignored the insults and glanced over Ben’s shoulder at the second figure lingering behind him. Kasira must’ve felt his eyes find her because she immediately asked, “What’re you doing out here, John?”
He didn’t reply. He wasn’t interested in bantering words with these two, and it was obvious they already knew since they’d been waiting by his car to ambush him. Was he being recorded, he wondered? Did Ben Sher, who was well known at school for his photography skills, have multiple cameras trained on this confrontation? Right now he had to play it cool and assume they were trying to set him up. If he did anything unusual or threatening, it would all be over and he and his mother would have to flee again.
It had been five days since Zac had told John he was no longer welcome in his life and the odd interloper in the big black peacoat had begun to keep a respectful distance, making their time together in Ms. Pembroke’s marine biology class downright agonizing.
It had been five days since Zac made a strategic mistake by telling his father that the loss of his cell phone was not due to John crushing it in his bare hands — how could he possibly have told him that — but because he’d lost it at Major Tom’s Retro Arcade. Not surprisingly, Robert Dryden had been unsympathetic to such carelessness and told Zac he needed to come up with a replacement himself, or resign himself to being the only teenager in Hidden Rock without a piece of high tech in his pocket.
But now a new, moderately expensive smart phone, still in its shrink-wrapped box, had materialized on his front porch. Its appearance had been carefully timed so Zac would find it after his walk home from school but long before his father got off work. An attached and unsigned note read simply:
Sorry about your phone. Hope you can use this one.
Although the note was likely sincere, Zac couldn’t help but wonder what it meant if he accepted the phone? Would John assume they could start hanging out again? Zac couldn’t even fathom that. In the end, his moral dilemma wasn’t as persuasive as his need to be constantly connected to the internet and he tore open the box.
John watched from the tree tops as Zac tossed the empty phone box into the dumpster on the side of the house, but he didn’t feel any better just because the gift had been accepted. Zac had made it very clear that he didn’t want John around, yet here he was, still hiding in the forest canopy, not to watch Zac but rather to watch out for him. Even if Zac understood that distinction, John was certain he wouldn’t, in his current frame of mind, appreciate it.
If John’s high altitude observations had proved anything, it was that Zac and his father had no idea who they really were. They were like people who’d lived their lives in a witness protection program without ever knowing it. This was a bizarre notion for John who’d changed homes and identities so often he could barely remember them all. The only thing about him that had remained constant in all that time was his first name. He’d always been John. It was weird for him to encounter people like the Drydens, who were so much like him but who’d always been just themselves. It must’ve been a wonderful way to live, he thought.
Over the next six hours, John checked and rechecked the perimeter around Zac’s house like a guard walking sentry duty. Since Zac had sensed his presence twice before, he had prudently moved deeper into the woods and remained entirely in the canopy so as not to leave footprints on the soft, wet earth. The only time he left the trees was when a cougar had roamed into the front yard, lured in by the scent of pork chop bones in the trash. John dropped down in front of the cat, who had immediately let out a penitent cry and skulked away.
At midnight, his mother started texting him. DID YOU FIX THINGS?? she asked.
John chewed his lip. Outside of blatantly lying to her, nothing he could write back would make her happy. He chewed his lower lip and chose to send as vague a response as possible. WORKING ON IT, he wrote.
Her reply was immediate: NOT ACCEPTABLE FIX IT JOHN!!!
THEY CANT HELP US. THEY R HIDDEN.
YOU DONT KNOW THAT
I DO. SO OBVIOUS!!! FORCING THEM COULD HURT THEM
DONT CARE. THIS IS ON YOU
Now thoroughly irritated, John snapped the phone shut and stuck it in his hip pocket. His whole body had begun to ache, a rare sensation for him. Between watching the Dryden’s house and laying awake worrying about the Drydens, he hadn’t slept more than three hours a night in the past week nor completed a single homework assignment. And all his effort and worry wouldn’t change the bottom line: the Drydens had no secret covenant with the supernatural; no special communication line to the Divine; no unclaimed favors with the Gods that would prevent his mother’s time on Earth from coming to its natural end.
Once it started to rain, John decided to call it a night. He leapt from tree to tree until he was a few yards from where he’d concealed his car. Upon hitting the ground, the hair on the back of his neck began to tingle. He immediately tried to dissolve back into the darkness but it was too late. Two flashlight beams struck him full in the face.
“You’re like a goddamn ninja, aren’t you?” a voice said in the darkness. Ben Sher stepped closer and ran the light up and down John’s body like he was looking for evidence of foul play. “You’re fucking pathetic, man,” he snarled.
John ignored the insults and glanced over Ben’s shoulder at the second figure lingering behind him. Kasira must’ve felt his eyes find her because she immediately asked, “What’re you doing out here, John?”
He didn’t reply. He wasn’t interested in bantering words with these two, and it was obvious they already knew since they’d been waiting by his car to ambush him. Was he being recorded, he wondered? Did Ben Sher, who was well known at school for his photography skills, have multiple cameras trained on this confrontation? Right now he had to play it cool and assume they were trying to set him up. If he did anything unusual or threatening, it would all be over and he and his mother would have to flee again.
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Ben took a step closer. Except for his height, John found nothing particularly impressive or intimidating about the boy, yet he could feel anger surging off of him like heat off a cinder. “You got a thing for Zac?” Ben sneered. The question was clearly rhetorical. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’ve gone all homo for him, huh? Hate to break it to you, man, but Zac ain’t gay. And I know for a fact that he told you to leave him the fuck alone because he told me all about you and your psycho mother. So what’re you doing out here, creeping around his house again?” |
Surprisingly, it was Kasira who took a gentler approach. Or maybe it was just a smarter approach? “I’m sure you can understand our concern?” she asked, sounding downright congenial. “You’re scaring Zac, which upsets us.”
John couldn’t resist a snort. As much as Kasira Vang wanted everyone to believe she and Zac were close, he knew otherwise. He’d seen how Zac had responded to her on his first day at school, when he watched them unseen from the balcony above the cafeteria; and then again at Major Tom’s just before everyone but John had collapsed unconscious. Whatever Kasira’s motivation was for being here tonight, it had nothing to do with friendship for Zac Dryden. John looked back at Ben, feeling flushed, and growled, “Go fuck yourselves.”
Ben responded by putting his hands on John’s chest and shoving him backwards.
Kasira was surprised, but not impressed, by Ben’s uncharacteristic act of machismo. The closest Ben ever got to a fight was when he played Oliver Twist and had to engage in some brief and unconvincing stage combat. His attempt at real violence was unarguably lame. “Chill out,” she grumbled to him. “We’ve made our point and now it’s time to go.”
“Fuckin’ faggot,” Ben barked as he obediently turned and slunk away.
John walked to his car and unlocked the door. In the dappled moonlight, he could see Kasira’s lavender Matrix parked next to the road.
“Remember what I said,” Ben yelled back over his shoulder.
“Damn, Ben, give it a rest,” Kasira moaned, opening the driver’s side door.
John couldn’t help himself. “You’re as false a friend to Zac as anyone could be,” he called back. “I knew it the first time I met you. You stink of it.”
Ben responded by scooping a baseball-sized rock out of the forest litter and hurling it in John’s direction. Probably he meant for it to leave a dent in Mitsubishi’s shiny black skin, but Ben had no more experience throwing rocks than he did fighting people so the stone flew wide and struck John square in the chest.
John couldn’t resist a snort. As much as Kasira Vang wanted everyone to believe she and Zac were close, he knew otherwise. He’d seen how Zac had responded to her on his first day at school, when he watched them unseen from the balcony above the cafeteria; and then again at Major Tom’s just before everyone but John had collapsed unconscious. Whatever Kasira’s motivation was for being here tonight, it had nothing to do with friendship for Zac Dryden. John looked back at Ben, feeling flushed, and growled, “Go fuck yourselves.”
Ben responded by putting his hands on John’s chest and shoving him backwards.
Kasira was surprised, but not impressed, by Ben’s uncharacteristic act of machismo. The closest Ben ever got to a fight was when he played Oliver Twist and had to engage in some brief and unconvincing stage combat. His attempt at real violence was unarguably lame. “Chill out,” she grumbled to him. “We’ve made our point and now it’s time to go.”
“Fuckin’ faggot,” Ben barked as he obediently turned and slunk away.
John walked to his car and unlocked the door. In the dappled moonlight, he could see Kasira’s lavender Matrix parked next to the road.
“Remember what I said,” Ben yelled back over his shoulder.
“Damn, Ben, give it a rest,” Kasira moaned, opening the driver’s side door.
John couldn’t help himself. “You’re as false a friend to Zac as anyone could be,” he called back. “I knew it the first time I met you. You stink of it.”
Ben responded by scooping a baseball-sized rock out of the forest litter and hurling it in John’s direction. Probably he meant for it to leave a dent in Mitsubishi’s shiny black skin, but Ben had no more experience throwing rocks than he did fighting people so the stone flew wide and struck John square in the chest.
From experience, John feigned injury. He immediately spun to his left and dropped to the ground, the darkness and shape of his body disguising the fact that the rock had bounced harmlessly off of him. For added effect, he groaned loudly.
Kasira shouted: “Don’t be an asshole, Ben!” Then, almost as an afterthought: “John, are you all right?”
John slowly climbed to his feet, clutching his chest and pantomiming agony, and slid wordlessly behind the steering wheel. He gave them both the finger as the Eclipse roared back onto the Sibyl’s Hill Road and headed for town.
John slowly climbed to his feet, clutching his chest and pantomiming agony, and slid wordlessly behind the steering wheel. He gave them both the finger as the Eclipse roared back onto the Sibyl’s Hill Road and headed for town.
CHECK BACK LATER FOR CHAPTER 17: CONSPIRACY THEORIES
