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Chapter 4: Stranger Things
YOU'RE LISTENING TO LATEWOOD ON THE LAKE- FOR WHEN THE NIGHT ISN'T MISERABLE ENOUGH
It's a cold, lonely night Lakewood. Nights like this, you get the feeling none of it really matters. Why go on? What have I got to live for in this cruel world? Well...I like to think I know the answer to that one.
Not a damn thing.
***
"Crestfallen sidekick in an old cafe/Never slept with a dream before he had to go away..."
Somebody had turned the common hall's radio on. Theodora would very much like to know who it was so she could hit something.
Barring that, she had little choice but to stick to what remained of her job.
"There's a bell in the tower, Uncle Ray bought a round/Don't worry about the Army in the cold, cold ground..."
"I've locked the fire door, and the hatch to the roof," she told Teague, drawing up alongside him and holding up poor Ari's keyring, "Now, do me a favor and answer me this: Are we protecting or imprisoning ourselves?"
"Cold cold ground/Cold cold ground/Cold cold ground..."
***
"Now don't be a cry baby when there's wood in the shed/There's a bird in the chimney and a stone in my bed..."
"There's...there's got to be something we can do," said Zach for what must have been the hundreth time since they'd all been boarding up here.
"Zach, honey..." Brooke leaned forward in her seat, "We've both been there before. Sometimes..." she followed his gaze, "Sometimes, you just need the quiet."
"When the road's washed out they pass the bottle around/And wait in the arms of the cold cold ground..."
"Still..." Zach looked from Brooke to Aleks to Ted, then back to the lonely figure of Carl, "They had a date."
"The cold cold ground/The cold cold ground/Cold cold ground..."
***
"There's a ribbon in the willow, there's a tire swing rope/And a briarpatch of berries takin' over the slope..."
"Do I dare ask where you were tonight?" Fitz asked with none of his usual panache, leaning across the table to look at his new-discovered son.
He was only just beginning to warm to the notion that he did have a son again, as irate, irascible and irksome as he was. Somehow, now, tonight, it was comforting.
"Before you let loose with some catty amorous remark, know that I'm well aware Tracy Lewis was nowhere near you."
"The cat'll sleep in the mailbox and we'll never get to town/'Till we bury every dream in the cold cold ground..."
"If you want so badly to have a father, then kindly allow me the paternal right to badger my son as I please. At least in the spirit of the evening."
"In the cold cold ground, the cold cold ground/In the cold cold ground, in the cold cold ground..."
***
"Gimme a Winchester rifle and a whole box of shells/Blow the roof off the goat barn and let it roll down the hill..."
"This was his piece?" Tina asked, turning the sidearm in her hand.
"Ma, could you do us all a favor and stop calling it a piece?" asked Eli, not lifting his head from both hands.
Tina ignored him, looking to the door in the back of the room. It led into a tiny side-office, she knew...an office that had been hastily converted into a slipshod Red Cross center.
"That Jesus-looking fucker's patching him up. Bastard near killed half the people in this room, and actually killed a helluva lot more...and he's patching him up."
"What else do you expect from a Jesus-looking fucker?" asked Eli, though his smile did little to hide his bitter tone.
"The piano is firewood, Times Square is a dream/I find we'll lay down together in the cold, cold ground..."
Tina lowered her head into her hands and groaned, "You said he wanted to take his sister?"
"Honestly, I think she wanted to take him."
Tina grimaced, "She was more than welcome."
"In the cold cold ground/Cold cold ground/In the cold cold ground..."
***
"Call the cops on the Breed loves, bring a Bible and a rope/And a whole box of rebel and a bar of soap..."
"The door, Dave, thank you."
Howard had been assigned Micah Hendricks's feet, Evans his front. A reverse from the considerably messier business of Maggie Duval. They had been less successful with the woman who had proved to be Arienne Atler. While it was unclear just how she had died, her killer had purged her afterward, so her blood had seeped wholesale from her body into that casket she'd been found in. The thing was alltogether too heavy for any of them to carry.
So they had left it for now. After all, she was already in a coffin.
"Make a pile of trunk tires and burn 'em all down/Bring a dollar with, baby, in the cold cold ground..."
Howard was aware of people turning to look at them as they bore the dead boy's body through the common hall. He could only wish there was some way to do this without everybody seeing, but Ed and Theodora had decided all doors but the big front ones ought to be locked, for their own good.
His daughter was somewhere in this mess. He...he ought to talk to her, about what they had heard. What it meant. Surely, he wasn't the only one with questions. He'd heard Emma Duval's voice too. And Deanna Wilcox. Of course, they had all, for times long or short, been patients of Phyllis Hendricks.
The now childless Phyllis Hendricks.
It was an ugly prospect, crowding the woman for answers on tonight of all nights. The rare instance when it was the father in Howard who was torn in conflict...whether to do right by his daughter, or to honor a parent who had lost her own child?
"The store room, Dave, not far now..."
"In the cold cold ground/In the cold cold ground/In the cold cold ground..."
***
"Take a weathervane rooster, throw rocks at his head/Stop talking to the neighbors til we all go dead..."
The world was soundless, colorless, empty.
She knew, of course, that there were sounds. People talking, whispering...some crying. She could almost hear them if she tried hard enough. But the trying was the part that hurt. Trying meant thinking, thinking meant remembering, remembering what she feared was already etched forever into her mind.
He never looked more like me until he was lying there dead.
How had she last seen him? At lunch, perhaps? Laughing with Carl? Had she seen? She'd been so distracted with so much else... Maybe she was only making it up, so she felt better.
What had she last said to him? Was it at lunch? The icebreakers? The bus? How could she not remember? How couldn't she remember her son?
"Beware of my temper and the dog that I've found/Break all the windows in the cold cold ground..."
Phyllis sat, alone and surrounded, knowing she was alive, and feeling dead.
"In the cold cold ground/In the cold cold ground..."
-Theodora, Zach, Brooke, Fitz, Tina, Eli, Howard and Phyllis
"One way out. One way in," answered Teague, "Maybe both."
He shook his head. He distrusts his own natural paranoia once, and what does it get them? Three dead people...including a student, who, by all counts, did nothing wrong.
Teague turned to their newest guest, who was wisely armed.
"Do you speak English? I know Spanish if you can't."
"Sí, señor, Pedro can."
"Alright. What are you doing out here? And that's a pretty serious piece of hardware you got."
Pedro nodded, "I live here."
***
Ted took a deep breath and said, "Zach, go to talk to him. I'll...I'll stay here."
At that, Audrey asked Brooke, "Can we talk?"
***
"Emma should have shot him when she had the chance," Lance said, shaking his head.
Day 2, Subsection...Sunday...FUCKIN
You wanna know what I think? YOU CARE ABOUT WHAT I THINK? The world's an unjust, shitty place. A DISCOVERY! WOW! FUCKING FANTASTIC!
Did it take low minimum wage for me to figure that out? NO
Did it take oppressive sexist standards for me to figure that out? NO
Did it take casual racism in the entertainment industry for me to realize the world sucks? NO
It took my only friend to die. My only friend, meaning the only person who'd even care about what I'm writing now. He was the one person who listened. He listene ALWAYS listened. And what do I do for him in return?
NOTHING
I'm useless. I beg for change but I never enact it. I say I care for my friends but I never show it.
I'm nothing
Leslie stopped writing. She didn't know what more she could say or add. That was all that ran through her mind. A failure who was all talk. And now nobody was here to listen to her talk. So like a tree in a forest, with no one around, she didn't exist.
Actually, Leslie thought of one more thing to write on that note.
Why him? Why not me?
She closed her journal and looked around the rec hall. Leslie wanted to stay where she was comfortable, in her corner, wallowing in her own self-hatred. But she couldn't tolerate locking herself out in her own narrow-minded misery. She had to leave that safe space.
Leslie glanced at Dr. Hendricks. She wanted to approach her but after that spiel on the loudspeaker, she couldn't be trusted. To think Leslie respected the woman.
Zach was occupied with his actual friends, none of them co-conspirators but friends. It wasn't her group. She wouldn't intrude there.
Fitz was with his son, no doubt...well, not being a father, that was for sure. He was being Fitz to his son.
That just left...Carl, sitting all alone.
Leslie took a deep breath, trying to humble and convince herself that she needed a friend more than she needed to avoid an enemy. And even though she didn't like Carl, he was one of the few people who suffered the same loss as she had.
Averting eye contact, Leslie sat down beside Carl, brusquely greeting, "Hey."
That was harder than she thought.
***
Like most people, Dave disliked the sight of dead children.
The boy was no child, sure, but he was in his prime, his whole life ahead of him. Naturally, he sympathized, was saddened by it especially.
"Yes...of course." Dave pushed the door open, face a sickly pale. Going through the room, he returned his gaze to the body, laid out in his and Howard's arms. The mere sight of it brought him back to that wretched night, when Kathy was on the stretcher. All the gory details, the only comfort was that her death was quick.
And the eternal punishment that Dave lived on, knowing that he killed her.
"We are seven," he muttered to himself. "We are seven." Those were from a Wordsworth poem. It was his one coping mechanism after Kathy's death, and it was those words that led to a resurgence in his career. Now, though, holding a body in his hands, they just felt like words, powerless and hollow.
They set the boy down in the storeroom. The two older men looked down on the corpse, who appeared to be in a tranquil sleep.
Dave couldn't hold it back anymore. Tears came to his eyes, his hand to his mouth. Sniffling and whimpering, he spoke up. "We are seven." He then turned to Howard, as if for affirmation. "We are seven."
***
"Ain't this terrific?"
"The kid dying or everybody wantin' me dead?"
"Nah, fella! Crossin' paths again!"
Nicodemus rubbed more of his oriental herbs and spices into Kieran's wounds, further burning yet also relieving his pain. Kieran would go as far to call it bio-freeze with a made-up name, but if it worked, it worked.
"Right," Kieran replied, bracing himself for the next dab of medicine. "No offense, doc, but there were a lot of reasons I broke out of prison." He looked the good doctor in the eye. "You were one of them."
"Now, I know you don't mean the things you say. If your bite matched your bark, you woulda done and wasted me, man," he smiled and leaned forward. "But you didn't." His brow furrowed when he took a look at Kieran's arm. "Speakin' of bites, what did this to you?"
"My blind ex's seeing-eye dog," Kieran answered curtly.
"Wow," Nicodemus stood in awe. "You got a fine stew of folks you know."
"...what?"
"All these people!" Nicodemus explained. "Your principal, your other ex girlfriend, that blonde chickadee, the skinny boy who cared 'bout you so much he kept tabs on ya, and your blind ex--I never took ya as such a cos-mo-polytan fella!"
Kieran scoffed. "Yeah, they're a diverse group. But they got one thing in common: they hate me." He shook his head. "I...I just can't believe it. I make one of the most improbable prison breaks in the history of this state, only to get in a car crash, and just happen to walk into a hive of all the people I hurt."
"That's a pretty sour deal, man."
"I mean, is my life that full of bad luck? Is it just fate that my life is supposed to suck? I guess I shouldn't complain considering what I've done. I...I guess I deserve it." Kieran paused, pensive. "I don't know. It sometimes feels like I've got no control at all. Like some cosmic forces are just pushing me--hell, all of us--around. Like a group of merciless gods just spend all day toying with our lives, making us do stupid things, leading us into stupid situations and just making our lives miserable. Does that sound crazy?" He looked Nicodemus in the eye as the doctor finished tending to his wounds, one of the few times in their time together Kieran wanted counsel from his doctor.
"I'm not one for derogatory language but man, that's silly." Nicodemus said with a smile, before gesturing to the door. "Now, c'mon, myyyy sillllly-Billlllly! We got to show you off to the congregation!"
Kieran exhaled out of frustration. "Right. So they can be stone me right after you fixed me."
"I dunno about stonin'. I swear, I smell hemp comin' from somewhere but don't know exactly where."
Kieran was tempted to say it was emanating from his sister but the last thing Deanna needed was Nicodemus hounding her for feel-good grass. He got to his feet and went to the door, which Nicodemus graciously opened.
"Hey, everybody! Our resident's feelin' up and better!" The doctor called out.
Kieran was tempted to step back in to the room, where he would be safely locked up until the police and/or the angel of death would spare him.
-Leslie, Dave, Nicodemus and Kieran
Carl sniffled and looked through bloodshot eyes to the side...to find the last person in the world he expected to be next to him.
He wanted to tell her to fuck off and leave him alone. But something held him back.
"Hey," he said with a broken voice.
He didn't know when he'd stopped sobbing. Maybe it was after that stranger had helped bring him back here...
"I...I loved him."
I do whatever it takes to make it
Break through anything I'm face to face with
It's true, you gon' make me lose my patience
'Cause victory is mine and I'mma take it
Aleks had been sitting nearest one of the tables, droning off and trying to ignore the fact that they had so many dead bodies on their hands already. She was sort of losing her mind, and the eerie bit was that she just wanted to run back home and hide in her mansion.
She looked up when she heard everyone talking, a part of her wanting to interject with something charismatic or charming, but in reality she was horrified and wanted to run.
So she sat there, silently, arms folded up around her legs and holding them to her chest as she rested her chin on top of her knees.
So put your hands up high
Now wave them side to side
Now when I pull out the nine
You better wave bye bye
So take a page from my book
Roll it up and get cooked
Watch these ladies get hooked
While all these haters get shook
So put your hands up high
Now wave them side to side
Now when I pull out the nine
You better wave bye bye
As if coming out of a daze, she happened to look up at the sound of the crazy hippie man saying that Kieran was alright, and she flinched slightly as her hand went to her abdomen, yes this was the same man that had done that to her. Why was he even allowed here with them? Oh yeah, his headcase of a sister had all but demanded it, or so it seemed that way.
Aleks looked towards Zach, than Brooke and the others. When the hell could they go home?
We gonna rise up to the top
We've been through it all
Been to fucking hell and back
Our backs against the wall
Got the dove and grenade flag on display
And every fucking critic's gonna listen when we say
I do whatever it takes to make it
Break through anything I'm face to face with
It's true, you gon' make me lose my patience
'Cause victory is mine and I'mma take it
Emma was sitting with her friends, steering clear of Kieran and his sister. How the hell was he even here? How did any of this make sense, and the way Deanna looked, she wasn't even sure who to believe anymore about anything.
"Can we move to another part of the room, maybe one where we don't have to see him?" She questioned, nodding in Kieran's direction as she turned her back towards him.
This wasn't a good trip, bodies, and death, her own mother. Right now she wasn't even sure what to do.
So put your hands up high
Now wave them side to side
Now when I pull out the nine
You better wave bye bye
So take a page from my book
Roll it up and get cooked
Watch these ladies get hooked
While all these haters get shook
So put your hands up high
Now wave them side to side
Now when I pull out the nine
You better wave bye bye
Tracy was seated on one of the tables, looking herself over after having gotten cleaned up. She was still in semi-coherent mode, thankfully her stash of pills in her bra had helped to comatose her out some.
She knew what she had done, and why, but nobody else did. Nobody here knew the truth, and there was a serial killer in their midst now.
Perhaps this was her chance to get off scott free, that would be fun.
She looked around, trying to spot Drew in the crowd, as if Terrance's brother would give her any comfort, right now she had the weight of one person's death on her shoulders, and she honestly didn't even feel bad about it. But she pretended it was driving her bonkers, not to mention the way her neck had Leslie's bruised marks of fingers around it, and the wounded head from the concrete hits.
Her gun was securely tucked into her waistband, and she honestly wondered why they were still there.
So just understand nothing gets in my way
I can show you firsthand if you got something to say
If you're thinking you can hold me down, you better think twice
'Cause I've been waiting for this moment every day of my life
These fucking people always say the same old thing
But you can't slay or conquer the king
I'm from a nightmare, but I'm living the dream
You need to back up if you're not with my team
'Cause I do whatever it takes to make it
Break through anything I'm face to face with
It's true, you gon' make me lose my patience
'Cause victory is mine and I'mma take it
Deanna had made it back to her cabin before heading into round up, and gotten her duffel bag and was sitting close to where Kieran was being patched up. She had changed out of her own bloody clothes, and was sitting there holding her duffel as if life depended on it.
When she heard the crazy doctor dude say Kieran was coming out, she stood up and made her way over to him.
She was already being criticized by everyone for taking his side, and for wanting him to come back. Hell she was pretty sure everyone was against her at this point in this damn retreat, not that she cared.
They had all heard her own voice saying she wasn't normal.
"Kieran..." She said, looking at her brother as she held her duffel in her hand and pulled out one of her hoodies and tossed it to him. "Since your lacking clothing, that should fit." She commented, leaning against the wall and looking at her brother, before glancing around the room.
She was one of the most hated in here, next to her brother.
It wasn't like she minded, her cousin and aunt hated her, and Smoke hadn't talked to her since they'd gotten to the main hall. Most likely because she was with Kieran, and well she had threatened to shoot anyone who touched him.
Once again, she was the anti-social outcast of the group, Kieran's headcase little sister.
So put your hands up high
Now wave them side to side
Now when I pull out the nine
You better wave bye bye
So take a page from my book
Roll it up and get cooked
Watch these ladies get hooked
While all these haters get shook
So put your hands up high
Now wave them side to side
Now when I pull out the nine
You better wave bye bye
You better wave bye bye
You better wave bye bye
You better wave bye bye
You better wave bye bye
-Aleks, Emma, Tracy, Deanna
Noah
Noah had been in the corner, hastily jotting down notes about the murders, Kieran's reappearance, how it couldn't be him, but might possibly be. When Kieran entered the room, his blood chilled seeing the man who caused all of them so much pain, who might had a part in the death of Riley. Who murdered his friends. His upper lip twitched, but he took deep breaths, he averted his eyes, and walked over to Emma and placed a hand on her shoulder,
"I'm sorry Emma, about your mom...And that you have to see him again."
________
Sawyer
Sawyer was in shock over the murders, staring at the ground. The stress of the gruesome events had triggered her tremors again, so all she could do was sit and stare at the ground as her arms shook. She hoped everyone would think it was just from the emotional situation.
______
Drew
Drew sat there not wearing the wig, but still in Terrance's old clothes, looking at his father with a smug, albeit swollen smirk. Stavo had given him a good beating, then again Drew hadn't fought back. Better to let the meathead let out his frustration than to have it become a big thing.
"Well if you can't tell, I was a little busy scrapping with the boys, real manly bonding, you know?" He asked his father.
"So some people die, including another boy about my age and now you want to act like a father?" He asked Fitz, standing up.
"How absurd is it that a kid you barely know dying brought out your paternal instincts, but when my brother..Your own son died, you didn't want anything to do with me?"
Howard gently lowered the body to the floor. It was possible, but not easy, to look away from the spot where they had earlier borne Maggie Duval. He could not look at her without thinking of her lips on his, how he had drawn back, as though scalded.
Ashamed? Disgusted? Or were you merely frightened? It doesn't matter, not truly. She left because of you, whatever reason you had. And now she's dead.
He lifted his head at Dave's words, "Seven?" he paused, "We...we're seven?"
He considered. Himself, Dave, Ed, Theodora...then Fitz Smith, Tina Hudson, even Phyllis.
"Do you mean the chaperones?"
***
"Enough to get by," said Theodora, "It's a useful skill, Edward."
She couldn't deny, it was nice being useful, and to indulge the possibly conceited pleasure of one who has learned another language and now must use it. She stepped forward, inclined her head to the stranger, "¿Quién eres tú? ¿Por qué estás aquí?"
There. That ought to be sufficient.
Just their luck he was a mad axman, and they'd just locked themselves in with two murderers.
***
"Don't be petulant," Fitz said immediately, "I'm not about to delude myself into thinking I can bandy you on my knee and tell you fond stories of my boyhood. But, like it or not, you're my responsibility."
He sniffed imperiously, "You stink like sweat and blood. Which of the local oxs did you cross?"
***
"What?" Brooke turned to Audrey, caught off guard, "Oh...um...sure."
She cleared her throat.
"You don't have to explain..."
But she stopped, because it sounded cheap and was. She wanted an explanation, among other things. It just felt cheap of her to say it.
***
Tina rocketed straight to her feet at Dr. Messiah's reentry, "Well, ain't that just fine and dandy? Would he like some slippers?"
"Ma, please..." muttered Eli.
"A bathrobe, maybe? I know, I like a good massage after a stiff night! His neck's looking pretty tense!" she flexed her fingers as if demonstrating just how well she'd liked to massage his neck.
"This piece of shit ought to be in cuffs! Chains! Fuck it, he should be under the goddamn building! I'm not sitting around playing nice with him till this thing blows over."
-Howard, Theodora, Fitz, Brooke, Tina and Eli
Drew
"Last I checked, I'm just here for the check and to pretend that we're close, actually listening to you was not part of the deal." He told his father and grinned at him. He reached at and patted his dad's cheek,
"Just sit down and act like a decent human being." He said as he began to walk away.
"Tata."
Tracy looked up from her comatose state, spotting Drew in the distance.
A simple nod of her head towards him, before she went back to looking distraught once more and pretending that Micah's death had really affected her, when in actuality it had been her to start the death off.
Fitz stared after him, "But...it...for heaven's..."
He leaned back, "Oh, sod off, then, you miserable churl! Back to your conniving con-artist consort."
He wondered if Drew knew about those photos, or of the absurd extends Fitz had gone through to get them back tonight. Part of him hoped he did, if only he could think of Fitz as little more than a joke, at least in one thing.
Though, in retrospect, the whole thing was very funny.
Drew
Drew noticed Tracy and the nod, and made his way over to her. He stood beside her,
"hey, crazy night, huh?"
"I came across the body...what..."
Tracy felt herself shake, not sure how else to put it or rather say at that point. Right now she was in 'shock' as the others put it around her, but right now she had to play the part of traumatized school kid.
She knew that it wouldn't take much time, but hopefully they would blame Kieran all the same.
Drew
Drew would slowly pull her into a hug. It may not have been as warm or embracing as she needed, but he could try.
"Is there anything I can do?"
Tracy leaned against him, shaking her head a moment.
"I want my pill stash..." She mumbled.
Drew
"How about we not take any pills at all? That could be fun." He told her, with a kind voice. He remembered what she was like when she thought he was Terrance, and he didn't want to see her like that.
Tracy rolled her eyes, "Not possible right now. I would rather not go through another murder spree sober..." she commented, running a hand through her hair as she leaned against him a moment. She wasn't sure how to figure it out right now, figure out how to be sober right now. "I need my pills....because its how I cope...and right now I can't fucking cope Drew..."
"Pedro Sanchez, Señora, and I do speak English," Pedro replied, nodding to the short woman, "I'm here because someone threw that knife in my direction."
He nodded to the bloodied knife on the table. At the time, he had thought it had been meant for him...
"You said you live here. Are you a hermit, or what?"
Pedro sighed. There were two options here: Lie through his teeth, and pray to the Almighty they didn't find out he was lying...or tell them the truth.
"About three Meses ago...I pissed off some very bad people, who would be more than happy to Coser mi cara a una pelota de fútbol."
Teague eyes widened. Measuring his next words carefully, he asked, "Cartel bad?"
"Sí, señor."
In scenarios like they were in now...secrets always came out. Better to just get the truth out there, here and now.
***
"No, you deserve an explanation," Audrey said firmly. There could not be more confusion between them. Not now.
"That recording was taken a month after I came out of the coma. I was...in a really bad place."
"Someone," repeated Theodora, "Well, that's helpful."
It was an absurd story, of course. A knife flying through the air and happening to fall right in his path. But, then again, it's stupidity might be a favor in the truth of it. Surely, a man like this could come up with a better explanation if he must, en Espanol or otherwise.
At his explanation, Theodora rounded on colleague, "A word, please, Edward."
She didn't give him a chance to protest, hauling him off, "Cartels?" she looked one way, then the other, waving ehr arms about as if grasping for whatever remained of her sanity.
"Edward, I told you before I'd had more than enough stoners. That counts triple for cocaine, speed, smack, or whatever the hell they're calling it! There's no way in heaven we're keeping him here, not around everybody else. We've enough to contend with as it is."
"Audrey…" Brooke sighed, "Look, I want to be pissed off that you've thought about killing me, but then I'd be a massive hypocrite, wouldn't I?"
She leaned back, "This isn't easy to admit, but I wanted to settle some scores too. I still do, as a matter of fact, with a few people..." her eyes sought out a certain suave serial killer in their midst, "If I got out for your blood over that, I'd just be playing into Special K's latest reality show. And I've over it. If anything, I'm angry for you, your dirty laundry getting aired out like that."
"I agree," replied Teague, "But I want some more answers first, and then we'll send him on his way."
***
"Thank you." Audrey sighed in relief, her hands shaking in anger, "How could she do this? I trusted her...and she does this..."
A cold chill went down her spine in realization.
"Now I'm really I never told her about...my...you know."
Logically she knew what had been done to her. But she couldn't bring herself to say it.
Leslie looked at Carl when he said those three words.
"I loved him."
Her breath was shaky, recalling what she said when she first heard about Carl and Micah. Leslie looked away, nodding her head.
After some time, she said hoarsely, "I know."
Leslie would never understand it. Maybe she'd never approve of it. But it was true. And she prided herself on knowing the truth.
***
"No, it's..." Dave began to explain. "It's a line from a Wordsworth poem, 'We Are Seven.'" Sniffling, he recalled the poem's narrative. "It's about this encounter he had with a y-young girl. She had six siblings, but two were dead. Nevertheless, she insisted..." He swallowed before repeating the lyric. "'We are seven.'"
Rubbing at his eyes, Dave continued, "I-I read the poem to myself constantly after Kathy died. The idea that the dead never leave us, but remain here and guide us spiritually...it was a comfort to think Kathy was still there by my side. Now, though..." He looked down, ashamed of his failures today. "It feels like a curse."
Realizing he was spiraling into his own issues again, Dave returned to the poor soul at their feet. "It'll be no consolation to Phyllis but...after all these years, I don't think it's supposed to be. It's a reminder. A reminder that though this life is short..." He took a breath, finding it harder to compose himself. "...that though this life is short, we'll arise anew in the hearts and minds of others. To love and eternally guide you or..." Dave bowed his head, recalling his own situation.
"...to haunt you."
***
"Thanks, sis," Kieran took the shirt. "It's a tight fit but better than..." He saw Aunt Tina charging towards him. "...whatever it is she's going to say to me."
Nicodemus did his duty and stepped in front of his patient to protect him from these negative waves. "Whoa, there! Chains and other types of restrictive material repress the need for free expression we all need to let our sanity out than in. That's why they call it in-sanity. Chill out, man."
-Leslie, Dave, Kieran and Nicodemus
"I was...I told him my Uncle would love him. That they had to meet each other," Carl sniffled.
Deanna stepped over next to her brother, placing an arm in front of him.
"Kieran, maybe we should go back in that room..."
She offered, looking behind her brother at the room that he and Nicodemus had just come out of. Hell she needed to talk to him alone before much else happened, "And I need to talk to you about something...away from our aunt who wants to kill you."
-Deanna
"I'm sure he'll love that," grumbled Theodora, "Though he has been...forthcoming, in his way. And he didn't have to tell us who he was..."
She turned to him, "What do you think of him? Obviously, he's a little eccentric. No doubt dangerous, if what he says is true. But, all told, he wandered into a murder scene like he was approaching a Macy's return counter!"
There was another thing that strangely counted in the stranger's favor. A duplicitous man, one who had done a murder, would no doubt either way to get as far from the scene as possible while he could or, if that proved impossible, put on the act of a grieving "hysteric. But this Sanchez had approached of his own will and had been stoic as a stone.
***
"Kathy?" Howard asked, "Your...your daughter?"
Dave had said something about her before, outside the cabins. To the point, he seemed to have said he'd killed her.
"Sometimes, I feel as though my Helen were with me," he said, "My wife. I'm never sure if she'd be proud or ashamed or if she'd just purse up her lips in that way she has and tell me to stop feeling sorry for myself."'
He smiled bitterly, "Probably both."
He looked up at Dave, "Your...Kathy. What became of her?"
***
"My Mom doesn't believe in psychologists, she says they're all quacks," said Brooke, "But my Mom's been to more shrinks than a Jackson and a Kardashian combined, and never stuck with any of them more than a month, so I guess her word isn't law there."
She'd never taken much of a measure of Phyllis Hendricks herself, other than she seemed fairly pleasant...Mom-like. The kind of polished, refined, kindly upper class woman people expected her mother to be.
But Brooke was no idiot. She knew very well by now that such women were hard packed with secrets. The Stepford Wives may very well have been a documentary.
"That's a mercy, I guess," she allowed, "Guess I should count myself lucky that Daddy thought cognitive therapy was a hippie scheme."
She looked in the general direction of their own happening hippie therapist.
"Maybe it is."
***
"They call it in-sanity, because insane people need to be locked in an institution!" Tina spat, "Double-locked, rebar, throw away the goddamn key! You think I'm fucking joking?" she looked around, in wide appeal, "This shithead just killed, what, three people? And we slap a band-aid on him and let him mix up with us? I think the shit not!"
***
"Oh Jesus Christ," Eli got to his feet, moving to aid his mother, though something told him his presence would only make things worse for every party involved.
So he settled on Stavo.
"How's the punching arm? Please answer. It'll distract me from the acid nightmare."
-Theodora, Howard, Brooke, Tina and Eli
"Well, it's probably not the first dead body he's seen," Teague shook his head, "I don't know what to make of him either. Everything points to him not being the scumbag that did this...but what if it's just an act, and he wants to get us all in one place?"
"I've had enough of my dirty laundry being aired," Audrey said, looking at the room where her Dad and Mr. Evans were in, "I'm telling him. Because I don't want him to hear it from someone else."
Leslie turned back to Carl, somewhat curious. "I take it your uncle is not a Klansman?"
***
Dave tensed at the question, before remaining silent for some time.
"Let's return to the others," he said wearily, keeping his head down. In an instant, he left the storeroom.
***
"That's the problem, man!" Nicodemus persisted. "We create insaner people by lockin' them in institutions! That's why I wish I had more outdoor sessions with Kieran. Then he wouldn'ta ran away. If we just try to lock him up again, he'll want to run away again. And nunna us want that."
***
Kieran held up his hand, signaling his sister to wait. "Hold on a second," he stepped towards his aunt. "She should have her words with me, before she goes and kills my therapist."
He looked her up and down. "Wouldn't want to share a cell with her. I know she feels the same way."
-Leslie, Dave, Nicodemus and Kieran
"A bit sore, but it was worth it," answered Stavo.
"Hell no," Carl shook his head, "Uncle Chris is a Marine. He got the Navy Cross, and he's probably one of the best Sniper Instructors they ever produced. Hell, he spent most of his career doing the job himself."
Deanna nodded as she held onto her duffel and moved to lean against the wall.
"Oh I'm sure auntie Tina wants to have words with us both, big bro."
She commented, running a hand through her hair as she winced at the slight pain coursing through her ribs.
-Deanna