Into This River I Drown (47 page)

“It’s okay,” I tell her kindly, even though my voice sounds rougher than I want it to. “You can say it. Hasn’t been a doozy of a storm since the day Big Eddie died.” And it had been too. What started out as a light sprinkle had eventually turned into a torrential downpour right before Big Eddie had been pulled from the truck. They’d had to move fast given how quickly the river could change from docile to manic. Looking back, I thought the sky itself was weeping openly at the loss of such a man from this earth. I thought Heaven cried for having to take him away from me, and God was begging for my forgiveness. I decided quite readily that if it was true and Big Eddie was gone, I didn’t give a damn if God felt sorry. I didn’t care if he was contrite and if he made the world cry for me and my father.

“It’s fine,” I say again to Rosie. “I’m not going to break. I’m okay. I think. No, I
know
.” Maybe I’m getting there.

Rosie glances at Cal before smiling sadly at me. “He was a good man, Benji. You know that; I don’t need to tell you again. I don’t think you could find a single person in this town to say anything against him.”
Pretty words, but I have a feeling there’s a few who’d disagree with you.
“But I’m sure glad to hear you say that, and I’m thrilled to see you smile the way you have been lately. And I think we know who we have to thank for that.”

Cal flushes again, but even
I
can see the pleased smile on his face that he tries to hide with a bow of his head. I refrain from rolling my eyes, but not by much. It is easier than sinking into the twinge in my chest, especially since now I know that it could have a name, should I choose to give it one. It’s easy, almost too easy.

“Shouldn’t you be down getting your food truck set up?” Abe asks Rosie.

“Getting there,” Rosie says. “I’ve got some heavy lifting that needs doing and was hoping a certain big man would come help me.”

I say nothing, waiting for Cal to make the decision on his own. It takes a moment, and many emotions appear to cross his face. While it might be indecipherable to Abe and Rosie, I’ve been around him enough to catch it all—his hesitation, his annoyance (however brief), his fear (even more fleeting). He knows what today is, what the conversation I overheard at the sheriff’s house means for today. In those few short seconds, he goes to war with himself, and I don’t know which part of him will come out the victor.

Abe decides for him. “Go on, Cal,” he says, not knowing Cal’s internal conflict. Or maybe he does. If anyone else could know, it’d be him. “I’ll stay behind here with Benji and close up the store, and we’ll head down to the festival in another hour or so.”

Cal looks to me. “It’ll be good,” I say. “Rosie could use the help and I’ll be there before you know it.”

He crowds against me again, placing his hands on my neck, stroking the skin under my ears with his thumbs. His touch is familiar, warm and urgent. “You’ll be down right after noon?” he asks me. Or tells me. I don’t know.

I nod. “Sure will, and we’ll have some fun. And then maybe I can get Christie or Mary to come open the store in the morning tomorrow so you and I can sleep in.”

“After the sunrise?”

“After the sunrise.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah, Cal.”

He looks dubious. He kisses me again and steps back. “There’s something I want to talk to you about tonight,” he says. “Something important. Just us two, okay?”

I tell myself I don’t know what it could be, but the heat of his gaze makes me a liar. “Sure,” I say, turning before he can see anything else on my face.

He walks around the counter and stands beside Rosie, who grins up at him. “I’ll take care of you, and make sure you get delivered safe and sound back to Benji. Deal?”

“Safe and sound,” he echoes, looking out the windows, undoubtedly searching for threads. He must see none, because he looks back at me.
Calm, Cal. I’m safe and fine. We’re okay.
He nods as if he hears.

Rosie puts her arm through his and starts to pull him toward the door. “Oh, before I forget,” she says, her hand against the glass. “Those storms coming in? Supposed to be real bad, from what I understand. You may want to consider putting up some plywood against the windows.”

“You think the storms will be that strong?” Abe asks.

She shrugs. “Couldn’t hurt. Having Dougie do the same up at the diner. I don’t think we’ll be seeing any out-of-towners this year. Probably would get stuck here if they tried. Roads are supposed to close all over the place.”

“No way in or out?” Abe says with a frown. “I don’t know why they just don’t postpone the festival until next weekend. It’s not like it’ll do anything for the economy if no one shows.”

“I thought the same thing,” she agrees. “But you know Walken. A stickler for tradition, that one. Third Saturday in May, just as it’s always been. Eh. The town’s seen worse, and I’m sure the weather reports are being overblown as it is. We’ll survive.”

Cal looks agitated and is about to open his mouth—to say what, I don’t know. “We’ll see you down there,” I reassure him. “Maybe I’ll even close up a bit early. Probably won’t be too many others coming into the station.”

The bell rings overhead as Rosie pulls him out the door before he can protest. She says something that makes him chuckle softly, a sound I can hear before the doors shut and they disappear down Poplar Street.

Abe huffs out a laugh before staring at me pointedly.

“What?” I say.

“Boy, if you don’t know, then I don’t know what to tell you,” he says with a smirk. “I just wonder what Cal wants to tell you tonight.” He starts walking back toward the office, most likely to pick up the old half-finished crossword book he’s been working on since 2006. “I just hope you’ll say the right thing back.”

I gape after him.

It happens
sixteen minutes later.

Only a couple of people come into the store after Cal and Rosie leave, grabbing a few last-minute necessities. Soda. Ice. Potato chips. It’s twenty past eleven, and I think I’ll close up the store. Abe is bent over the counter, trying to figure out what twenty-six down is with a clue for an eight-letter word that means
a certain angel
. He has the first letter
G
and the last letter
N.
No wonder he’s been working on this book for six years,
I think with a shake of my head as I walk toward the front door, getting ready to switch over the sign to “Closed.” “Hey,” I call over my shoulder. “Let’s head down and—”

A Strange Man stands across Poplar Street, watching me.

He’s different than Dark Man and Light Man were. He’s completely bald and his white skin is luminous in the weak sunlight that appears from behind a drifting cloud. His face is smooth, and for a moment he reminds me of Nina with her sweetly cherubic face. But the Strange Man is nothing sweet. Although I can’t quite place if he actually looks menacing or if it’s just the memory of his counterparts that comes roaring to the forefront of my mind. He’s dressed in the same dark suit and skinny tie over a white shirt. He looks to be a bit taller than I am, and even with the distance between us I can see his eyes look flat and black, like they’re dead.

He’s flickering in and out of view, like he’s a malfunctioning projection. For a split second he disappears, and then he’s there again, on and off, on and off, just like the lights were in the freezer that stored my father’s body so long ago. I don’t know why my mind makes this connection, but it does and my skin feels instantly clammy. For a moment, I wonder if the Strange Man will suddenly flicker out of existence, only to reappear right next to me, his fingers turning to claws, his face stretching into a horrible shape.

But he doesn’t. He continues to flicker in and out and cocks his head, watching me.

Once you catch sight of the Strange Men,
Michael whispers in my head, his voice a memory,
you will know I have assisted you and that you should follow
.

Michael’s sign.

“Abe,” I say, not turning around. “I have to run home for a minute. Do you mind closing the store?”

Silence from behind me. Then he says, “Why do you have to go home?”

The Strange Man holds his hand out in my direction as if silently asking me to take it in mine. “Need to get some plywood to board up the windows just in case.” It’s easy, this lie.

Footsteps approach from behind me. “What are you looking at?” Abe’s voice is hard, as if he doesn’t believe a single word coming out of my mouth.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him follow my gaze across the street to where the Strange Man stands, having not yet moved from the same spot. His eyes do not widen. He doesn’t gasp; he does not start to tremble. He looks confused and darts his gaze up and down Poplar Street. He can’t see the Strange Man.

“Why are you so pale?” he asks me quietly.

“Worried about the storm,” I say. “Don’t want anything to happen to the store.”

“And that’s all?”

“Yes.”

He grabs me by the shoulders and forces me to turn and face him. “You’re lying,” he snaps at me. “What is it? What do you see, boy?”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Nothing,” I say. “I told you, I just need to go get some plywood.”

“There’s some in the back,” he says, giving me a little shake.

“Not enough.”

“It’s Michael, isn’t it? It’s that bastard Michael. What did he say to you? What did he ask you to do? What did he promise you?”

He told me he would help me find the truth. And I can’t tell you because I need to keep you safe. This is not your fight. This is not Cal’s fight. This is mine. Stay away, Cal. Stay away.

I open my eyes. “This has nothing to do with Michael, Abe. I’m asking you to trust me on this. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“At least tell Cal! Have him go with you!”

“
No
,” I say, startled at the anger in my voice. Abe flinches. “Leave him out of this.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”

“Abe….”

He shakes his head angrily. “You can’t lie for shit, boy. You aren’t going back to your house. You see something out there, and by God you aren’t going wherever you think you’re going without me attached to your ass.”

“Abe, just listen to me for a second.”

“No,
you
listen. The day your daddy died, I got down on my knees and I prayed. I prayed for his soul to rest in peace. I prayed for you and your mom to receive strength. And I made a promise. Do you know what I promised, Benji?”

I don’t know, but my heart already hurts.

“I promised him,” he says roughly, “that I would do my
damnedest
to watch out for you, to make sure that nothing happened to you. I’ve let you grieve and I’ve grieved along with you. I like to think that you are my own because you
are
my own. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I let you walk out that door without me, you can bet your ass on that.” He stops, glaring at me defiantly.

“I can’t risk you getting hurt,” I say weakly.

He nods. “And I can’t risk you going off on your own. Not when I can go with you. No arguments.”

Shit
. “Strange Man, across the street.”

Now
his eyes widen.
Now
he gasps. He looks over again, out the windows. “There’s nothing there,” he says, sounding confused.

“Oh, he’s there. You can trust me on that. Michael told me he would send him.”

“To do what?”

I look back at the Strange Man, who cocks his head again, so like a bird. He’s flickering even more now, as if my indecision is causing his existence to wane. Michael said he would send me a sign, but he didn’t say for how long.

“To do
what
?” Abe asks again, giving me another shake.

“To show me the truth,” I whisper as the bald man frowns.

Abe sighs. “And Cal? He needs to know, Benji. He needs to know, because if he doesn’t and something happens to you, it’s going to destroy him.”

“No. I can’t risk him. I can’t take the chance. He’s becoming human, and I can’t take the chance.”
Stay away, Cal. Stay away. Calm. Hush.

“Human?” he says as he bows his head. “Oh, Benji… he’s becoming human?”

“I can’t risk him,” I say again. Because I can’t. I won’t. Once this is done, I will find a way for him to survive and stay with me forever. I will find a way to keep him with me at Little House and the world—be it Griggs or be it angels from On High—will never bother us again. We’ll live out the rest of our days as everything passes us by.

“He’ll find you. The threads. He’ll see.”

“Abe.”

“What?”

“The Colt .38 Super. In the office lockbox. Get it and the ammo. Quickly. If you’re going, we need to move. I don’t know how much longer Michael will allow the Strange Man to stay.”

He doesn’t move.

“Abe.
Now
.”

He hurries to the back office.

Stay away, Cal
, I think.
I can’t let you get hurt. Stay away.

The Strange Man begins to smile.

a thousand needles in your eye

We drive
down Poplar Street in the Ford, away from the festival. As we pass the diner, Dougie opens the front door, having finished boarding up the windows. He sees us and waves as we drive past him, a questioning look on his face. He’s obviously headed toward the festival, and I hope he gets distracted and doesn’t run into Cal to ask where Abe and I are going.

I don’t know where we’re going. As soon as we hopped into the Ford, the Strange Man disappeared, only to reappear farther down Poplar Street, headed toward home. Or Lost Hill Memorial. Or the Old Forest Highway, which would lead to mile marker seventy-seven. I follow him, and when we get within twenty yards, he vanishes and then returns, farther down the roadway again. Every time he reappears, it looks as if his smile gets a little bit bigger.

“Don’t know how much time we’ll have now,” Abe says as he waves at Dougie. “Cal’s going to find out one way or another. You sure about this, Benji?”