The Puppet Maker's Bones (27 page)

“What’s that?”

“Being burned alive.” Mr. Trusnik had no irony in his voice when he spoke.

“They did that with witches,” said Kevin

“And others. Others who were different. Others who, through no fault of their own, were born with something that frightened the majority. An extra finger, a mole, different colored eyes, a pair of wings.” Mr. Trusnik moved away from Kevin and over to the pottery kiln, where he adjusted the controls.

Kevin snorted in laughter. “That never happened. So, if you don’t believe in the death penalty, what is it that you’re doing to me?”

“I don’t know.”

“What is that supposed to mean? You change up the poison?”

“You are making me repeat myself like a broken record. I told you, you weren’t poisoned. The cut you received was from a knife treated with the sap from a root that was to put you to sleep. But you got too far inside the house and touched things that do not belong to you. You got too near me. Do you think a house can take on the emotion of its inhabitants? There is so much grief here. So much sadness. Such loneliness. I am not so old and lacking self-awareness that I do not know what emotions pour out of me day after day, unchecked, for decades. Alone. People need contact with others. Being in solitary confinement from any of it for decades… well, although you are a despicable human being, you are still a human being and I have not been in close contact with one since well before your parents were born.”

Kevin felt faint. Clutching the scalpel, he leaned on the bench.

“Kevin, you are getting quite pale, and you should sit down. You may try to get close to me to cut me with your scalpel. You will have to slash my throat when that happens, by the way. It is necessary that I completely bleed out if I am to actually die. One deep cut. Ear to ear should do it.”

Even as the old man described the way to kill him, he approached Kevin, reached over and took the scalpel away from him. Kevin was too weak to fight him. He gently carried Kevin to the wall and sat him upon the floor with his back propped against the wall. He then put the scalpel back into Kevin’s hand and backed away.

“What are you saying?” asked Kevin, bewildered and disoriented.

“In 1942 I committed a crime. Not the normal kind of crime that you read about in the newspaper or that is even on the law books. But a crime, nonetheless and many people died because of me.”

“You killed people?”

“Not like you. Never like you, Kevin. For my sentence, I was given a choice between two things. I chose the more difficult of the two, thinking I deserved some grand and enduring penance because my other choice would have been a swift and humane death, which as I said, I am against.”

Mr. Trusnik opened up the pottery kiln and placed objects into the pile he’d collected. The net was one of the things to go in first, followed by the animal snare.

“Did you go to prison?”

“This has been my prison. I have been here since that day. I do not leave, I do not take visitors, though my dear friend visited me once, unannounced, and that did not end well for us. No, I have no contact with the outside world. Everything is delivered. Workmen are dealt with over the phone or Internet. Everything else is handled by the businessmen I told you about.”

“1942. That would make you—”

Mr. Trusnik put one finger to the side of his nose. “Exactly. Three hundred years old. This year.”

Kevin’s eyes followed the old man’s movement as he put Kevin’s digital recorder into the kiln. In Kevin’s weakened state, he chose to listen and did not attempt to respond.

“You are the first human being I have been in close proximity to in seventy years, and I have to say I am feeling quite overwhelmed. My heart is beating rapidly, my pulse is very fast. I am perspiring. I can’t remember the last time I did that. I am experiencing some form of passion—I suppose because I actually have a guest? My affliction has always been that harm comes to people when I experience passion. I did not poison you, Kevin. You are dying by being near me.”

“Are you going to try to tell me you are some sort of vampire?”

The old man placed more items in the kiln. One item was similar to the small knife the puppet used to cut him. He turned back to Kevin.

“No. I am not a vampire. You and I both know that vampires are utter nonsense. They make for good novels and movies, however. No. Perhaps my isolation here in this house has made the house like me. I asked before, how many things did you touch when you came in here? When you touched them, did you feel something? Did anything happen?”

Kevin touched his hand, again remembering the tingling sensation in his hand that he shook off as he crept through the kitchen.

Mr. Trusnik mused. “How many items that may have been touched by me? It used to be that I would have to have some form of physical contact with someone to harm them. But that is not true. The others can do it without touching. I remember a small flu epidemic, not started by me. However, it was started
because
of me. I had to know the extent of the damage I’d caused. I asked questions. I found answers. Yes, they touched people, but they also touched
things
, that’s how powerful they are. I imagine they envision that alternate outcome for you. I admit I did not think about what might happen to you if you came in here and placed your hands on anything.”

“Are you human?”

Mr. Trusnik did not answer, but walked over to the female puppet in the silver-blue lace dress and traced her face with his fingers.

“You’ve lost blood and what little you have left is turning to water. I need you to do me one favor before you expire.”

Kevin had never been so helpless, so frightened. He stared at the old man, who stared back with an expression that Kevin thought looked almost sad.

“Good. Slow your breathing if you can. It will help. I told you I was under house arrest, and that I was forbidden to come in contact with anyone for the rest of my natural life, which could very well be another hundred years or so. Can you imagine being completely by yourself for that long a period of time?”

Kevin watched Mr. Trusnik. He did not believe half of what he was saying, but believed the old man was convinced it was true. Kevin had no idea what he had been poisoned with, but it was having an effect. He took another wipe at his nose and peered again at the cloth—it looked like clear mucus with a little blood in it. Good. The bloody nose was stopping.

“As I said, Kevin, your blood is becoming water. Or something similar to water.”

Did the old man read minds? Kevin said nothing.

“I was told that the punishment for breaking the bonds of my house arrest and having any contact with another human would be that I was to be burned alive. That was
my
choice. My option.”

Kevin’s speech came in halting efforts, his breathing labored. “Burned alive? No one does that.” Kevin eyed the scalpel that lay in his useless hand.

“In my world, they do. As a lesson to others. And I cannot fathom anything more horrible. I admit to having become a coward. I chose this, solitary existence, instead of the sudden death I was offered at my original sentence, because it was not the quick and easy way out that sudden death would bring. I wanted to be punished. And I have been. I don’t know why they chose fire to be my punishment if I was ever to have contact with someone again. I stopped trying to figure them out ages ago. So I must ask you to kill me. You were planning to, anyway. This way will not provide you the
music
you were hoping for, but you are here and it is what you came to do. I ask that you do it. Consider it an act of mercy in an attempt at contrition over your many other more heinous acts.”

Kevin thought the old man was rambling nonsense, but was in no position from his helpless place on the floor to do anything other than humor him.

“But I broke in. You didn’t mean to have contact with me. Can’t they do anything, these people of yours? It wasn’t your fault.”

“Kevin, are you trying to defend me? Or are you trying to save yourself? You can’t possibly be trying to find a reason not to kill me.”

“I. I don’t know. I—” Kevin made one last effort to get to his feet and collapsed back against the wall.

“No. Kevin, I need you for one last thing. I need you to hold on a while longer.”

“Mr. Trusnik, I—”

“Oh let us not be formal
now
. That is inappropriate. They will be here soon. The ones that can enter. The ones like me. They will come in here and then they will take me out of my home. They will take me away from my family. They will do this terrible thing. I want to die with my family. At home. You
have
to hold on.”

“Your. Family.” Oh my God. The old man meant the puppets.

“They will find them. They will know.”

Mr. Trusnik walked over to the wire where the puppet of Robert Lamb was attached. He took the puppet down and held him close to his chest, then walked over to the cabinet on the wall and released his close hold on the puppet, placing him inside. “Thank you, Cheidu,” he said.

The old man then went back to the workbench where he had placed the skeleton and the waltzing woman puppets he’d used to taunt Kevin in the hallway. Kevin studied them in the light.

“Those look like real skeletons,” Kevin said.

“They were my parents,” said Mr. Trusnik.

Kevin squinted to see them more clearly. They were indeed skeletons. Kevin could not help but feel a certain fascination for this man.

“When you get to be as old as I am, I don’t think some of the same social mores can apply any longer. There is no rule that I am aware of that when a person dies that they
must
be buried or cremated or disposed of in some place. Where better for a puppeteer and his family to be other than immortalized in a puppet theatre? My father referred to me as an escaped puppet who found his way home. He called me that until he died. When my parents died I realized that they too, were puppets that needed to escape and find their way home. I helped them come back. That is all.”

Kevin pointed with his head toward the puppet in the dress.

“Then who is the one you were dancing with. Your
wife
or something?”

“Yes. My beautiful Juliet.”

“Her name was Juliet?”

“Her name was…” Mr. Trusnik seemed to lose his train of thought. “Wednesday’s child is full of woe,” he muttered. “Her name was—”

“You don’t remember your wife’s name? What’s wrong with you? Do you have Alzheimer’s or something?” Kevin held the cloth to his face.

A knocking sound from deep in the house startled them both.

“I expect they have finished with your home and are here to collect you and take me to wherever it is they take someone with my particular crimes.”

“Will they get me to a hospital?” the boy asked.

“I don’t think you will make it to the hospital,” Mr. Trusnik said. “Is there anything you wish to say? Any regrets? How many people
have
you killed, Kevin?”

Kevin shook his head. Mr. Trusnik nodded. The boy was not going to confess anything to this.

Mr. Trusnik moved toward Kevin. “I think it is time to make you a little more comfortable.” He leaned further in toward the wall where Kevin leaned, and Kevin lashed out with the scalpel. Mr. Trusnik took it from Kevin’s hand for the second time that evening, and for the second time, Kevin did not have the speed or strength to stop him.

“I’ll take that now. You no longer have the strength for what I need.” Mr. Trusnik held Kevin’s hand for a moment and gave it a pat. Kevin inhaled roughly and looked into Mr. Trusnik’s eyes for the first time.

“Your eyes. They are not—”

“Human?” asked Mr. Trusnik. “I think I am far
too
human and that has been my greatest flaw.”

Mr. Trusnik placed the scalpel on the workbench and left the workshop, returning moments later carrying Kevin’s duffle bag. He emptied the contents and placed them on the floor around Kevin.

“What are you doing?” Kevin rasped.

“You
did
intrude upon my home with the intention of doing me great harm. You are not an innocent. They will have to know. They must investigate you. Determine your other crimes so that people can have their closure.”

“Closure. What is that? Doesn’t look like you got any closure. You turned your family into a bunch of freak dolls that you
play
with.”

Mr. Trusnik gave Kevin a sad smile.

“I do not expect you to understand the working of my mind any more than I can begin to fathom the workings of yours.”

The knocking sounded again. Pavel cocked his head in the direction of the sound.

Kevin gave a feeble chuckle, saying “You gonna answer that?”

It was the last thing Kevin would say. A large volume of clear liquid burst from his nostrils. He inhaled one final, ragged breath, then died.

***

“So soon,” said Pavel, regarding the boy seated on the floor whose eyes were blank, open.

The knocking grew more insistent, and Pavel heard someone trying the knob on the front door. Soon they would go around to the kitchen door and find it unlocked. Pavel walked over to the puppet made from his wife’s bones, and picked her up, placed her back in the cabinet with the puppet of Cheidu. He walked over to the workbench, picked up the scalpel and placed it back in Kevin’s hand.

Pavel made a hasty inspection of his home, clearing away evidence of his theatrical show earlier. He placed his parents’ puppets back in the cabinet and closed and locked the door. He placed his hand against the closed door of the cabinet. “Goodbye, my dearest escaped puppets. Goodbye.”

He picked up the digital sound and light board he created and put it in the pottery kiln with the other objects. He moved with great speed around the areas of the house and workspace where he had items that might be of interest: his computer, his phone book and other items. He placed those in the kiln as well. He adjusted the temperature, closed the kiln and turned it on. Once closed and on the heat cycle it would not unlock again until it was done and cooled down. What didn’t melt would be unrecognizable as anything that might be considered evidence when the kiln was opened. He turned on the power, but turned off all lighting, plunging the house into darkness. He turned on the stereo. Mahler’s
Ninth Symphony
. How fitting, he thought. The men had reached the back door of the kitchen, and Pavel heard them enter the house.