Beautiful City of the Dead (13 page)

"How long have you known?" I asked. "I mean about being—"

"The god of dirt?" He smiled, kind of sheepish. "When I was a little kid they couldn't keep me out of the mud. One time I filled the bathtub with dirt when nobody was home. I turned it into mud and played in it for hours.
They beat me, I mean bad. Mr. Belt came out and I was crying all night. Still, I kept going back."

He put the key in the slot and twisted it to make his motor roar to life. "I was nine when I got my first drums. That was all it took. I could drub them hard as my old man beat me. Harder. I could put all that hate into my hands and pound the skins and it felt better than anything in the world."

"That's why you joined Relly?"

"Blam!" he said, punching his fists into the air. "I just want to make the biggest noise in the whole world. I want to hit and hit hard."

"What about the—"

"Relly told me about tetrads and elements and stuff. I get it, I guess. Or maybe I'm too stupid to really—"

"You're not stupid."

"OK, sure. I'm not stupid. The point is, I don't care much about Relly's weird stuff. All I know is he plays like nobody I've ever heard. And when the four of us are together it's amazing, like we're breaking on through."

I got what he meant, even if I wouldn't have put it that way.

"Something opens up. A door, a window. I don't know. Jerod gets it, too. Only, all he cares about is looking good and having people rave about him." Butt started the motor. The whole van rattled and throbbed.

We pulled out and edged past a fire truck. Hundreds of kids were milling around, talking, huddling, trying to keep warm.

"Where we going?" Butt said.

"Knacke's house," I told him. "I looked him up in the phone book. He lives out by the airport. Just the other side of the canal."

I
T WAS A NORMAL-LOOKING HOUSE
. But it was all alone in a neighborhood of giant gas tanks, rent-a-car lots, and rusty, abandoned machines. Nearby, about a hundred railroad cars waited on weed-infested tracks.

We turned onto Knacke's street and a jet went over, so close my teeth rattled.

"You sure this is right?" Butt asked. "He's got a good job. He could live in a way better place than this."

"Maybe he likes to be alone," I said.

All around his house were empty lots. "Maybe this was a good neighborhood in the olden days. Probably everyone else sold out. But he hung on 'cause nobody will bother him here." Even with the windows rolled up, I could smell nasty fumes. Jet exhaust, or spills from the gas tanks.

"Now what?" Butt asked.

"Knacke's still at school."

"So we just go in the front door?"

"I don't know. Gimmee a minute to think." The Buttmobile had no heat. The longer we sat there doing nothing, the worse it got. Already, my feet were numb.

"If they kidnapped Relly then it's not against the law to go in there and save him, right?"

Butt shrugged. "It's probably breaking and entering."

"That doesn't matter though, right? We came here to save Relly."

He shut off the motor and we went up the crumbling driveway. Another jet went' over. The huge roaring shadow sliced across Knacke's yard.

The screaming thunder dwindled down. But a growling kept on, even after the plane had landed. "Crot Almighty," Butt groaned.

He'd seen the dog first, a huge, shiny, black monster with raging purple-red eyes. I stood there, frozen, as the beast lunged. He stopped, snapped back in midair, at the end of his chain. This made him even madder, and now my fear was like poison pumping through my veins.

"Let's go, let's go!" Butt yelled, running for the van.

I was sick with fear, ready to throw up. Still, I didn't back away. "We came to save Relly," I yelled. "I'm not going home without him."

The dog's chain was long, and as he raced back and forth, it dragged in the frosty stubble of grass. He lunged again, jerked back again, and then bolted to one side.
Butt dodged back. We were safe. Only we couldn't get near the house.

The monster dog ran from side to side, and everywhere his paws touched the ground, he left a puff of steam. Was he a creature of fire like Knacke? Was that stinking steam that blew from his nostrils just breath, or smoke from some inner fires?

"We can stop him," I said. "Water and earth. You and me together. Water and earth makes mud."

I thought of rain and the rivers coursing underground. I thought of endless water, and the ground under the dog's feet became softer. Butt saw what I was doing, and I guess he turned his thoughts inside, too. The god of dirt and the god of water, making Knacke's yard into a lake of raw mud.

The dog was stuck, jerking and twisting, trying to get free. His legs were sinking into the ground. His paws were gone now, deeper and deeper.

"All right," I whispered. "Stop." I let go of the watery thoughts.

The ground, which had been frozen till we made it soft, went back the way it was. The dog was trapped, all four legs buried in the rock-hard earth.

"Now! Let's move!" I said. We ran up the driveway to the front door.

"We'll just go in fast, get Relly free, and then we're gone. Two minutes, that's all it'll take," I said.

I grabbed the doorknob and another plane came in, close enough I could have hit it if I threw a rock straight up. My teeth rattled, and so did the screen door. The booming went way lower all of a sudden. I heard the plane hit the runway as I twisted the doorknob.

Like a hundred-pound fist, another dog slammed out of nowhere. The huge jaws snapped and slavered, about an inch from my face. There was glass between us, and I guess that's all that kept me from getting my eyes torn out of my head.

Butt was swearing, I was screaming, the dogs were snarling, one behind and one in front.

Again the dog inside threw himself at the glass door. Flames shot out of his nostrils. Smoke and ash were swirling around his head.

Butt grabbed me by the shoulder and got me away from the door.

We ran for the van. By the time Butt had the motor going, the dog in the yard was free. He bolted toward us. His chain stopped him dead in midair again. Butt put on the gas and we were gone, with the scream of jets and the wild yapping of Knacke's fire dogs chasing us down the road.

T
WO MINUTES LATER WE
got pulled over by the police.

Butt could swear with the best of them. And while we waited there, watching the flashing red light in the mirror, Butt reeled off every curse he knew. "I'm gonna lose my license. I know it, I just know it." His hands were tight on the wheel, so tight I thought he'd bend it up like a pretzel.

Finally, the officer got out of his car and came toward us.
It's one of them,
I thought.
They're everywhere. The assistant principal at school, the police, probably the mayor and every priest and preacher in the city, too. They're all part of this.

He came up beside the van. "Your license and registration," he said. I tried to get a good look, but he stood behind us. All I could see was the glint of his mirror shades.

"Crot Almighty," Butt hissed when the officer went back to his car. "I have my license for a week and it gets yanked."

I was thinking,
We have way bigger things than your
license to worry about. They still have Relly and they won't hesitate to kill htm if we don't do as they tell us.

"I wasn't speeding," Butt said. "I'm positive I wasn't speeding."

"It doesn't matter now. They got you."

The officer was taking forever, which made it all the worse for Butt. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore and got out of the van. Instantly a voice boomed from the police car loudspeaker, "Get back in your vehicle. Now!"

Butt did as he was told, and started punching his fist against the dashboard.

At last, the officer came back.

"I wasn't speeding," Butt snapped. "You know I wasn't speeding." He was clutching at the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white.

"That's correct. However, your brake lights are not functioning and your side door mirror is missing." There was a rusty hole where the mirror had been attached.

"Listen," I said, leaning across Butt to see the officer. "We have a friend who's been kind of ... we think that someone's kidnapped him."

The officer handed Butt his ticket. "You have seven days to bring this vehicle into compliance."

"Honest," I said. "We need some help. A guy from school, he's this insane teacher." I tried to see the policeman's face. "And he's kidnapped our friend. Is there anything you can—"

"Get your brake lights repaired today. And the mirror replaced."

I kept talking, asking for help, almost pleading. It was like I wasn't even there. Like no sound was coming out of my mouth.

Butt pushed me back to my side of the seat.

"Have a nice day," the policeman said in a voice as dead as a robot's. And with that, he went back to his car.

I
TOLD
B
UTT TO DRIVE
to the Chimes Diner. "I think my dad's working now."

What was my plan? To ask him to fix everything? What was I going to say? "I know I haven't seen you in days, but I thought maybe you could figure out a way to rescue Relly." Or: "The police are no use, and everyone at school is involved, too. So you're my last hope for help."

I don't know what I expected. Still, we went in and I asked Mary Kay, the lady at the cash register, if my dad was there.

Rubbing at the nasty red spot on her cheek, she said, "I think so." Her hair always kind of scared me. It was big and hard-looking, like a bees' nest made out of copper wire. "Go on back and ask."

So we did. Dickey, one of the prep guys, gave me a big smile and said I looked all grown up. "Haven't seen you in here in months. You too good for us now?" He was standing at a steel sink full of wings, ice, and chicken blood.

I felt kind of sick. The smells of the kitchen were thick as fog. Sizzling grease and mop water, a bucket of raw onions and bubbling pot of red sauce. "Is my dad here? I need to talk to him."

Dickey shrugged. "Haven't seen him in a while."

We wandered around the kitchen, then to the back stockroom. I even had Butt check the men's lav.

Mr. Poole, the manager, poked his head out from his tiny office. "He's not on till six tonight. He's got the last shift."

"We could wait," Butt said.

I gave up. "No point. Let's go."

I'
M NOT SURE WHY,
but we ended up back at Relly's. The house looked even more like a ruined tower that day, tall and spindly between the two empty lots. Butt parked on the street and we sat a while as the last light faded from the sky.

Slime Street was even deader than usual. A few lone leaves rattled on the maple trees. A black VW beetle crawled by. Its tailpipe dragged on the road, spitting sparks. When the rattling had gone to nothing, I got out of the van.

"You coming in?"

Butt shook his head. "I better get going." I knew no one at his house cared when he came or went. No—it was just that he wanted to get away from me. "Gimme a call if you get any ideas."

"Right. Sure." I slammed the van door, maybe too hard. Flecks of rust rained down around my feet. "See you later."

He drove off and I went up the steps to Relly's front door.

Like before, Tannis opened up without me knocking. She looked worse than I felt. Her shoulders kind of sagged. Her skin was almost gray, like she'd been sick for a month. "You're back." I could barely make out the words, she was so quiet.

"And you failed."

I nodded. "Completely. Nobody's going to help us."

"Then you have to do what they want." She never once said it was all my fault. Still, I knew what she was thinking.
You made this mess. Now it's your job to clean it up. You've got to answer for what you've done.

"We've got to get him back," she whispered.

"I know. I know." I climbed to the attic, up one flight, two flights, of creaking steps. The light was already on, the one bare bulb that dangled above the practice space. Relly's guitar case was open. The Strat shone a brilliant blood red.

The wind was whipping at the roof. Drafts and even a few little fingers of snow came in through the cracks around the rafters. The house kind of moaned, like it was dreaming, making sad noises in its sleep.

I looked around slowly at the practice space. Pop cans, heaps of cable, some broken drumsticks, a pizza box, shredded guitar picks, candy wrappers, scraps of paper where Relly had scrawled words and chords. Flattening one page out, I read,

Now deep in earth, this bed of sighs,
I wait till I, like fire, shall rise.
In latter days, the healing rain
shall wash away these tears of pain.
Then will my voice in great goodbyes
join to the chorus of the skies.

It was in Relly's handwriting. He must've copied it down on one of our Mount Hope trips. Below the poem was the name Silence Loud, and then her dates. Seventeen years old when she died.

I tried to picture Silence. I tried to look backward through time to see the girl whose name seemed so weird and yet so perfectly right. She was long, long gone. Still, it was like I could almost hear her talking. "Then will my voice, in great goodbyes." I was reading the grave poem aloud. I was hearing Silence, making Silence appear in the cold empty practice space. "Join to the chorus of the skies."

Tannis was coming up the steps. I wadded the paper and stuffed it into my pocket. She emerged from the shadows carrying a big book. "I want to show you something," she said.

She lay the book down and opened it. Pictures, hundreds of pictures. Relly as a baby, a toddler, a ten-year-old, a teenager. It didn't matter how young he was, I could tell
it was him every time. Those big eyes, staring so intense, so full of longing. Even when he was little, he knew he was totally different. And he wanted something better than the nothing of school and TV and malls and crowds of other kids.