Me & Death Page 10

  The guard had his thumbs in his belt. A lip licker – I didn’t trust him.

  Up close I saw that Raf had the remains of a black eye and a bruise high up on his forehead.

  “Yeah, I got run over,” I said. “I was in hospital.”

  “I’m real glad you came.”

  I felt sorry rising inside me like an elevator. We sat at one of the round tables, and I reached into my pocket.

  “Hey!” The guard moved forward. “What do you have there?”

  I held up my hand. He relaxed. I gave my gift to Rafal.

  “Crispy Crunch, my favorite.”

  “I know.”

  While he ate, I told him what Cap had said about not talking to the cops.

  Raf frowned, like I was stupid. “They already offered a deal,” he said. “If I testify against Cap and Jerry, I go free. The cops know all about the car-theft ring, they just don’t have any proof. Did you know Cap cleared more than half a million dollars last year? That’s how come he can afford to hire my lawyer. But he doesn’t have to worry about me. I’m not talking to any cops.”

  Defiantly, he took another bite of chocolate.

  I looked at his fading black eye.

  “I’m sorry, Raf,” I said.

  “Sorry? For what?”

  “For running away. There was that weird noise coming from the backseat and I bailed. And when I saw the cop car cruising down the alley, I didn’t go back to warn you. I hopped a fence and kept running. Cap sent me today, but I was coming anyway. I had to say sorry.”

  The people you let down, Tadeusz had told me. I had let Raf down, all right. I didn’t want to be a criminal anymore, but I had trouble looking at my old partner.

  Raf swallowed his mouthful and did the strangest thing. He laughed.

  “Sorry? You’re sorry?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why are you sorry for not getting caught? Would you rather we were both here? Would that make you feel better?”

  “It was such a weird noise,” I said. “I couldn’t –”

  “I don’t want anyone being sorry for me. I’m fine. Got a lawyer, don’t I? Got movies to watch, dormitory gangs to fight with, counselors to lie to, and I never see my dad. Okay with me. It’s not your fault the cops came, Jim. Somebody saw us go into the garage and called 911. You got out at the last possible moment. It was already too late for me.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  I flopped against the back of my chair. “Huh!” I said.

  “That’s more like it. Let’s see that beautiful smile now.”

  Other visitors arrived. Moms, mostly. Some brothers and sisters. One little girl clutched a black-and-white kitten. There was a NO ANIMALS sign, but the kitten was so small the guard didn’t notice it. He licked his lips and stared off into space.

  Raf had his head turned sideways, staring at me out of the corner of his eye.

  “So you had to say sorry, did you, Jim? You had to come out here to apologize? What is with you, man?”

  Rafal was my best friend. We talked about sports and TV shows, and girls, and different kinds of potato chips, and would there be flying cars in the future. You know the kind of stuff. It was all here, all real. (Well, not the flying cars.) We talked about the life we knew.

  I still liked him, but I couldn’t tell him anything about my life now. I couldn’t talk about seeing ghosts and memories, and trying not to be a piece of crap anymore. He wouldn’t understand. He’d be … embarrassed for me. So I kept it simple, and told him about waking up in hospital, glad to be alive, and sorry for that night in the Lincoln. He finished the chocolate bar, licked his fingers and around his mouth, then opened the wrapper on the table and licked the inside of it.

  “Okay, so you’re sorry. Got it. Can we talk about something else?”

  “Did you ever find out what the noise was?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “It stopped by the time the cops got there. Bastards.”

  “Bastards,” I agreed. But my heart wasn’t really in it. I was glad I’d come to visit, glad Raf didn’t hate me for walking around while he was in jail. But I was pretty sure he’d go back to boosting cars when he got out. We’d never be as close as we had been.

  I thought of my past as a burning building. I had jumped, and hoped to land safely. But jumping is a one-way trip: you can’t change your mind halfway down.

  CHAPTER 28

  A worn-out lady came into the visiting area pushing a bundle buggy. She picked a table away from ours and sat with a sigh. The kid she was visiting was a few years younger than Raf or me. He sat up straight in his chair. His eyes were all over the place. She was way too old to be his mom – grandma, maybe.

  Raf noticed me staring. “That’s Joel,” he said in a low voice. “He’s crazy.”

  Joel was biting the pads of skin at the top of his fingers. Grandma took a Twinkie out of her bundle buggy and offered it to him. He stared at it and went back to his fingers.

  “He screams every night,” said Raf. “We leave him alone. He’s got, like, marks all over his back.”

  “What’s he in for?”

  “They say he tortured a baby girl – held her over a candle flame.”

  We were both quiet.

  “What’s wrong, Jim?”

  “Nothing.” I blinked. “Nothing. Did Joel give you the black eye?”

  “Nah, that was Stevie. We were arguing about an old movie they had us watching. Ever seen Driving Miss Daisy?”

  “No.”

  “Well, there’s an old black guy who drives an old white lady around, and that’s pretty much the whole movie. Point is, the chauffeur was that guy who usually plays God or the president. He’s got a great voice, talks real slow and careful. You know the guy I mean, Jim?”

  “Sure. That guy. He was in Seven and a bunch of other stuff.”

  “Yeah. What’s his name?”

  “I can’t remember. I know who you mean, though.”

  “Well, Stevie said it was the guy who plays Darth Vader. That voice, you know. ‘Luke, I’m your father.’ That guy. I told Stevie he was an idiot, and we got to fighting and he popped me. Stevie’s had it in for me ever since he came. He wanted my bunk, and I wouldn’t give it up.”

  “Driving Miss Daisy, eh?” I said. “Sounds lame.”

  “Shut up, it was pretty good.”

  I watched the boy Joel. He sat up straight as an iron bar. His back never touched the back of the chair.

  Commotion across the room. The kitten was loose on the floor. The little girl and her mom were trying to catch it.

  “Hey!” called the guard. “No animals.”

  The mom was on her hands and knees, trying to coax the kitten from under the table. Stupid thing leapt over her hands, raced past the girl and the guard, and made a beeline for Joel. He gave a sort of a convulsive twitch and grabbed it around the middle. It struggled, but he held on with both hands.

  “Ho ho!” he said. “Ho ho ho!” He had a deep croaking voice for a little kid. All that screaming, I guess. The kitten mewed unhappily.

  Raf was on his feet real fast. “Joel,” he said.

  The little girl went to get her pet back.

  “Joel,” said Raf. “Give the girl her kitten.”

  He’s funny about animals. Last summer we were walking across the parking lot at the supermarket, and there was this dog locked in a car with the windows up. Raf grabbed a rock and busted one of the windows. Then he ran into the supermarket and stole a bottle of water. I told him he was crazy, but he just smiled, holding that dog under one arm and letting it lick the water a bit at a time. He’s the sort of guy who can put out his hand and a bird will land on it.

  Joel didn’t want to let the kitten go. He held it close to his face and stared at it, the whites of his eyes showing all around the dark bit in the middle. He wanted to hurt the kitten. Just looking at him, you knew that’s what he was thinking.

  My heart was racing. I hate cats. I hate the sound they make. I
felt like I was about to choke.

  Joel’s grandma hadn’t moved. Stunned, maybe. Or just plain tired of Joel. Raf marched over and took the kitten. Joel looked around like he didn’t know where he was.

  Raf stroked the kitten, calming it. Then he gave it to the little girl.

  “No animals,” said the guard.

  “Sorry,” called the girl’s mom. “But our car window broke. If I leave her in the car she’ll run away. And I can’t put her in the trunk.”

  The trunk.

  “You can’t have the cat in here,” said the guard. “It’s not allowed.”

  The trunk.

  The little girl carried her kitten outside, while her mom said good-bye to a kid with a swastika tattooed on his neck. Classy.

  The guard led Joel away.

  “Raf,” I said.

  “You okay, Jim?”

  “No. Listen, Raf. The weird noise in the back of the Lincoln. What if it was an animal? That kitten sounded familiar.”

  “There was no animal in the backseat,” he said.

  “What about in the trunk?”

  He stared past me, trying to remember. “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe the noise came from the trunk. Damn!”

  Joel’s grandma walked slowly to the outside door, dragging her bundle buggy as if her whole sorry life was in it.

  “What if it was an animal?” said Raf. He smacked his fist into his palm. “A cat or a dog. Damn. I hate that! You can’t keep animals in the trunk of a car. They’ll die!”

  I was thinking of Wolfgang and me, floating down toward Roncy in my second vision. I know what you’re scared of, he told me. I see you …

  Raf grabbed my arm. “Jim, you got to do something for me. Go back to the garage and check. Tonight, okay? I can’t stand the idea of a trapped animal.”

  My face probably gave away what I thought. I didn’t want to break into any cars. I sure didn’t want to break into a car where they caught us last time. And I especially for sure did not want to break into a trunk with a cat in it.

  I could feel sweat on my palms, just thinking about it.

  “It’s been ages,” I said. “If there was an animal in the trunk, it’s probably dead.”

  “Probably, but not for sure.”

  “Didn’t the cops search the trunk?”

  “Naw. They found me in the backseat with my tools and took me in right away.”

  “I dunno, Raf.”

  “What if the animal’s still alive? Or there might be another one. Maybe the trunk is where he keeps them.”

  “Aw, Raf.”

  “Please, Jim.”

  Raf had never asked me for anything before. Never.

  I thought about being a piece of crap. What made you a piece of crap, anyway? Breaking the law, or letting down a friend?

  I wiped my palms on my pants. Nodded my head.

  “ ’Kay,” I said.

  “Off Pearson, the first alley past Roncesvalles. Remember, it’s a big white Lincoln. The garage has no door.”

  “I remember. I’ll do it.”

  “Tonight, Jim.”

  “I said I’ll do it.”

  “ ’Kay. Thanks.”

  He punched me on the shoulder. I punched him back. And left.

  On the way out I heard the guard talking on his cell phone. “Not now, Zelda baby,” he said. “I’m at work. I can’t talk at work.”

  CHAPTER 29

  When I got home, I finished off the maple cookies and went upstairs for a nap, feeling kind of, well, horny, but I fell asleep before I could do anything about it. My dream wasn’t sexy at all. It began as a memory. I was in the alley between Galley Avenue and Pearson, ducking into the garage to help Raf fiddle the car door. A heavy door, because this was a Lincoln Town Car, longest thing on the road. “Trunk big enough for an elephant,” said Raf. He was under the steering column while I held the flashlight for him. We heard the noise behind us. And now the scene started to spin like a paint wheel, memory bleeding into nightmare. I forced my head around enough to see out of the corner of my eye. In the backseat was an enormous gray cat. It licked its paw, over and over, tongue the size of a hand towel. It mewed again, loud enough to make the car vibrate. Then the beast leaped over the seat and landed on me, knocking me sideways. I sprawled along the roomy bench seat of the Lincoln with the cat sitting on my chest, heavy, hairy, and soaking wet. My shirt was drenched. The cat shook itself, and a wave of water rolled toward me. I woke up to screaming.

  Late afternoon. My room faced west, and the sun was streaming in.

  Cassie screamed again. She stood in my doorway, pointing down at the floor. “It’s crawling under your bed!” she cried.

  “What is?”

  “The thing!”

  She sighed. “But you can’t see it. ’Course you can’t – even though it was sitting on your chest. A horrible thing, whispering in your ear. Oh! It’s still there! Sucking its thumb like an evil child!”

  I peered over the edge of the bed, and saw –

  “Oh, yeah,” I said. “Hi, Wolfgang.”

  He took his thumb out of his mouth, waved. There’d been something familiar about the cat in my dream. The way it licked its paw. The wetness.

  Wolfgang.

  And now I understood. “So this is how you visit,” I said to him. “You show up when I am asleep. Right?”

  Grave Walkers were part of our nightmares. They were tied to Earth by fear, and nightmares are pure fear. That’s how Wolfgang knew I hated cats.

  He nodded. Beads of sweat on his face.

  “You …” Cassie stared from me to Wolfgang and back again. “You see it too, Jim? Oh, God, you do!”

  Wolfgang was floating away. I watched him drift through my window, disappearing in the sun’s glare.

  “It’s true!” whispered Cassie. “I knew it! I knew it!”

  “What?”

  She had her hand to her mouth, backing out of my room.

  “You’re dead! You died in the accident.”

  She turned and ran. I followed her.

  “Wait!” I cried.

  “You’ve been dead all along!”

  She tried to slam her room door but I got my hand in the way, and held it open.

  “Go away! Leave me alone!”

  “Come on, Cass. We have to talk.”

  “No!”

  I used my shoulder on the door. Terror gave her strength, but I outweighed her by fifty pounds. I pushed my way into her room. She retreated to the far wall and stood shivering against the bubbled blue-and-white wallpaper she had hung up herself. She was wearing a tight top that showed sweat stains. Her eyes were wide and staring.

  I stayed by the door. Didn’t want to scare her even more.

  “I’m not dead,” I said calmly.

  “Yes you are. You died in the hospital. Ma said so.”

  “No she didn’t.”

  “She said you weren’t yourself.”

  “Yeah, but I wasn’t dead. Come on, Cass, I’m not a ghost. I’m wearing different clothes.”

  “Ghosts can do that.”

  “I talk to Ma.”

  “Ma’s crazy. Or drunk. Who knows what she sees.”

  She had a point there. I tried to think how to put it. How do you prove you’re alive?

  “If I was a ghost, I wouldn’t need to push the door open, would I, Cass. I’d just walk through it.”

  She shook her head. Stubborn.

  “You think I’m dead because I could see that Grave Walker in my bedroom just now. But you saw him too, Cass. And you’re alive.”

  “You don’t understand. I saw you, Jim,” she said. “I saw you dead.”

  “Yeah, I know. A couple of years ago, in the living room. You looked in the corner and saw two shadowy guys. And one of them was me, in my dragon shirt. Peek-a-boo, you said. But I wasn’t a ghost, Cass. I was in a coma, revisiting the past. I survived. I woke up in the hospital and came home. Yes, I am different. I can see ghosts. But I don’t want to become one. They’re all pi
eces of crap, you know. It was a ghost who told me this.”

  I took a deep breath. “And that’s why I want to talk to you, sis.”

  I told her the whole thing: Tadeusz and his warning, the door in the sky, the crappy Jordan Arms, my past on the TV screens, the emergency ambulance ride and near-death, waking up in the hospital, and slowly realizing how different I was.

  I told her about everything except Marcie. That was a private hope I didn’t want to share.

  Cassie listened hard, frowning in concentration. She kept shaking her head, but I know she believed me.

  “I remember that Tadeusz guy,” she said. “Louise’s mom used to cut his hair. He’d give her a twenty-dollar tip every time. Huh. Huh. And now he’s worried about you, turning out bad like him. So pathetic.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Why can’t they leave us alone? Stay in their stupid hotel and drink their stupid ginger ale.” She was staring out the window at the empty school yard next door. She turned suddenly. “What’s with that, anyway? Who ever heard of ghosts eating or drinking?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But these are the spirits who are still tied to Earth. Ghosts in stories have chains, don’t they? Heavy, clanking chains that they have to drag around?”

  She wasn’t really listening. “We don’t need them telling us to watch out. We sure don’t need them in our nightmares.”

  “They’re not here for us,” I said. “Their own fear pulls them back. Or regret. Or anger.”

  “Anger.”

  She smiled. Not nicely. “How long has that Slayer – the pirate guy – been around?”

  “Morgan? A long time.”

  “And was he going to kill you? Is that what Slayers do?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I saw him in the hospital when Chester died. I think Slayers are drawn to death, the way Grave Walkers are drawn to nightmares and Mourners are drawn to regret. That’s why they tell you to watch out. They know something bad is coming.”

  “Watch out.” Her face tightened. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

  “Tadeusz says that every ghost used to be a piece of crap. I never found out Wolfgang’s story, but I can guess. I bet he was a bully and a mean little kid, and he died terrified.”