Joe (25 page)

Chapter
Forty-One

Mina

“So,
have you ever had to
kill
anyone?” Dominic asked.

Mina gasped. Beside her, Davis chuckled.
She shot him a warning look turned back toward her younger son. “Dominic,” she
said, “that’s not an appropriate question to ask someone.”

Russell smiled at the boy. “Ah, it’s
alright. I was curious as a boy myself. But, to answer your question, no, I
haven’t ever had to kill anyone. I haven’t ever had to fire my gun, either.
I’ve had to draw it a time or two, but that’s all.” He gave the boy a gentle,
but serious look. “And I thank God for that.”

The four of them were seated around
Mina’s table in her dining room having dinner. After the incident at the
carnival, Mina had found herself unable to stop thinking about Russell. She had
invited him over for lunch today, and he ended up staying through dinner. She
couldn’t believe how well her sons had taken to him, Dominic especially.

Russell and the boys helped her clean up
after dinner, and before she knew it, it was time to put the boys to bed. It
was a school night for all of them. Davis, of course, would be going to UMMS
with her tomorrow, and Dominic had preschool. Mina asked Russ to stay awhile
longer, and he seemed more than happy to do so.

After the boys had fallen asleep, both
of them curled up and peaceful in their beds, Mina kissed them both on their
foreheads and thanked God for them. Sure, they could be pains in ass, but they
were hers, and she wouldn’t have traded them for the world.

Russell was waiting for her in the
living room. She smiled when she saw him. He was truly an exquisite man, a
gentleman, and easy on the eyes, too. Mina couldn’t believe how lucky she was.

When she took a seat next to Russ on the
couch, he put a strong and comforting arm around her shoulder and held her
close. Mina rested her head on him and sighed at how right it felt to be in his
arms.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m not
sure if I said it before, but thank you again anyway.”

Russell kissed her forehead. “It’s no
problem at all. You’ve got two great boys. And you’re not too bad yourself,” he
said, giving her a slanted smile.

Mina gave a sly grin. “Oh, I don’t know,
sometimes I’m bad.”

He looked down at her, his slanted smile
still present, but intensity smoldering behind his eyes. “Is that so?” he
asked.

She nodded, and he took her face between
his hands and kissed her. And it was great.

At some point, she invited him into her
bedroom, and that was great too. As Mina drifted into a deep and peaceful
sleep, his strong arms wrapped protectively around her, she thought to herself
that this was a great way to spend a Sunday. Or any day, for that matter.

It was a night during which one could
not find the care to think about the worries of tomorrow.

And, yes, it was a good way to spend the
Sunday, indeed.

Chapter
Forty-Two

John

While
Mina was putting her children to bed and kissing them goodnight, John stood in
front of the long mirror that hung from his bedroom closet. His parents were already
in bed, but he was too excited to even sit down, let alone sleep. Tomorrow he
would see his Jodie again, even if only once. He had decided it didn’t matter
what happened then. At least seeing her one last time, he might be able to
erase his last image of her crying and screaming his name as her father dragged
her into the old house and shut the door forever. If he could just get rid of
that image, that would be enough. Maybe he could move on then, cut his hair,
start fresh. Or maybe—he was afraid to even consider it—but maybe she was
coming to return his love. It was a possibility, even if it was far-fetched.

He had rummaged through his closet and
decided on a t-shirt with a button-up gray sweater and gray slacks for
tomorrow. It was the nicest outfit he owned, even if it was from the thrift
shop around the corner. It wouldn’t matter anyway. His Jodie had never been the
judgmental type.

So, as Mina was kissing her kids and
cozying up to a fine man named Russell, John stood in front of his long mirror
in nothing but his tightie-whities and a pair of orange socks. His long black
hair hung all the way down his back, and his long fingernails hung at his
sides. Music with no lyrics, just sounds of the wind and whistles and small
instruments, played lowly from his iPod, and John swayed and gyrated in some
sort of happy love-dance as he thought on and on about the return of the
lost-girl he loved.

He watched himself in the mirror, but
instead of seeing his gangly body and flowing hair sway and roll, he saw his
Jodie smiling back at him. John couldn’t think of a time when he had been
happier or more excited.

It was one of those days when the
promises of tomorrow are so great that they wipe worries and fears right out of
existence.

And it was a good way to spend a Sunday.
Despite the fact that tomorrows are notorious for not living up to their
promises, it was
still
a good way to spend a Sunday.

Chapter
Forty-Three

Claire

While
John gyrated, Claire sat on the couch in her apartment and stared at the
television screen without really seeing anything on it. She had eaten nothing
but junk food and ice cream all day. And somehow that was okay. Claire didn’t
consciously know it, but it was sort of a “last meal” kind of thing. She had
always had a major sweet tooth, but she normally avoided the sugar to keep her
figure. Today she indulged her cravings. Because…
why not?

The noise of the television was nothing
more than a low drone in Claire’s ears. She had gone through several stages of
awful feelings today. First the heartache, as she thought over and over again
about how the father of this thing in her belly was going to marry some stupid
whore Claire used to consider a friend. She had cried and cried and screamed
into her snotty-tear-soaked pillow until her throat ached and her nose clogged.
Next the anger, when Claire seriously considered calling up the little whore
and telling her about how her fiancé’s child was growing inside of Claire.
Claire just bet that Brad hadn’t told the little bitch about that. She just bet.
And now, numbness. She preferred this stage over the others. She had cried all
the tears she had to cry and screamed all the curses she could scream, and
after releasing all that poison, she realized it had been the only thing inside
of her. Now she was just an empty, senseless shell. And numb, so very numb.

Behind her, the door to the apartment
opened.

Looking tired but happy, Nikki tossed
her suitcase and purse aside and came to sit beside her sister on the couch.

“How’d it go?” Claire asked.

“It was so amazing!” Nikki said.

Claire looked over at her sister. Nikki
was practically glowing. For some reason, this deepened Claire’s numbness.

“Three different agents asked to see my
manuscript! Not only that, the keynote speaker asked to see it, too! I’m going
to do some final edits and send it out. I just know that once they read it,
they’re going to love it.”

Claire could feel the smile on her face
stretching her lips upward, but that void was still behind her eyes. Nikki
stared at her for a moment, worry sweeping the excited expression right off her
face.

“What’s wrong?” Nikki asked.

To her credit, Claire took a small
amount of time to think before answering. Something inside her knew that if she
was ever going to back down from the ledge, this was her last chance. If she
was going to let Nikki steady the plank under her shaky feet, now was the time
to do it. Claire tried for a moment to remember how she had felt last night,
when she had all but decided to spill the beans to her sister, release the poisonous
secrets that had brought her to this final state. But, the poison had already
been spilled, and Nikki had missed it. Claire made her final decision. The only
decision an empty shell like her could have made. And surprisingly, she felt a
weight lift from her shoulders as her resolve grew strong and certain.

Claire smiled. “Nothing,” she said.
“Tell me more about the conference.”

After only another moment’s hesitation,
Nikki did. She was too excited and bubbling over to notice that her sister’s
nods and smiles were just movements, that her I’m-so-happy-for-you’s and
congratulations were just words.

It was one of those days when you take
comfort in the belief that things could not get any worse—when you think to
yourself that this is the most pain you will ever feel, and soon it would be
over anyway.

But Claire, so young and naïve and
green, was about to learn an important life lesson.

Things could
always
get worse.
Always.

Chapter
Forty-Four

Joe

I
climbed the steps to my apartment, sparing one last look at Michael in his car.
I wondered briefly what he thought about all the things that had happened
today, and what he thought about the last stupid comment I had just made to him
about when he would see me again.

“That, even I don’t know.”

It was a reckless thing to have said to
him. Really, though, what did it matter? It’s not like Michael was going to
jump straight to the conclusion that I was clairvoyant. He may think I’m
strange, but again, who cared? Well, me, I guess. I cared. I wanted him to like
me, but the harsh reality was that if he couldn’t accept my strangeness, then
we were wasting our time anyway. Also, there was tomorrow to contend with. If
things went poorly tomorrow, I wouldn’t have anything left to worry about. I
would be dead.

Morbid thoughts, I know, but legitimate
nonetheless. I paused when I reached the landing that served Mr. Landry’s
apartment and my own. I felt drained and tired, but I was under no delusion
that I would be able to get any sleep and I was anxious to hear what the old
man had to say. Better to get it out of the way. I had other plans to make,
unless I wanted to improvise, which I didn’t.

I knocked on his door twice, the sound
of my fist small and timid against the wood. I was suddenly overwhelmingly
nervous, almost hoping that Mr. Landry wouldn’t hear my knocks. I waited. I
counted to ten in my head. Just as I was about to turn away and head into my
own apartment, the door in front of me swung open.

“Joe,” Mr. Landry said. He wore a clean
pair of slacks and a short-sleeve button-up shirt tucked into his pants. He was
still wearing his loafers. I wondered if he ever wore more casual attire.

“Huh-how’s it guh-guh-going, sir?” I
asked, my stutter growing stronger as my heart increased its pace. Mr. Landry
had that same strange look on his face. The one I hadn’t been able to place. I
wasn’t sure I liked it.

“Just fine,” he said. “Come on, come on
in. Don’t want to be cooling the whole neighborhood.”

Mr. Landry left the door open and sat
down at his kitchen table. I stepped in, shut the door behind me, and joined
him at the table. For a long moment, neither of us said a word. We just stared
at each other, and I began to grow more and more nervous. I could think of
nothing to say.

Finally, just before I was about to
stand up and leave, Mr. Landry said, “I feel like I owe you…well,
a lot
for
the way you’ve helped me out over the years.”

I waved a hand in dismissal. “It’s no
puh-problem, sir,” I said. “I duh-duh-don’t mind the wuh-wuh-work at the shop—”

“That ain’t what I’m talking about and
you know it,” Mr. Landry said, cutting me off. He leaned forward, resting his
forearms on the kitchen table. “I’m gonna be straight with you, because I don’t
really know no other way to be, and we both know that you have
helped
me
out on many occasions that have nothing to do with the shop. Hell, just the
other day you saved me from a spill down them stairs, didn’t you?” He stopped
and gave me a deadpan stare. I shifted in my seat, my thoughts flying in a
million different frenzied directions.
How much did this old man know?

“So,” he said. “Are we at an agreement
about how you’ve helped me out in the past?”

I nodded, my hands clenching into
nervous fists.

“Okay, then. Like I said, I feel I owe
you, and so as much as I don’t like getting involved in other people’s
business, I can’t sit by knowing I can help you and not doing it.”

I swallowed. “S-s-sir, I-I-I-I duh-don’t
understand.”

Mr. Landry sighed and stood up. “Hold on
a second. I’ll be right back,” he said, and grabbed his cane from where it
leaned against the wall. He left the kitchen and returned a few very long
minutes later holding a blue plastic case. He set in on the table in front of
me.

I looked up at him, asking the question
with my expression.

Mr. Landry resumed his seat at the table
across from me. “It’s a gun,” he said. “The first gun I ever owned, actually,
and it doesn’t have any serial numbers. I got it a long time ago. It’s a forty
caliber Smith and Wesson. The kick ain’t too bad, and it’s easy to fire. It’ll
get the job done.”

I stared at the weapon on the table in
front of me. Then I stared at Mr. Landry. What the hell was going on here?

Mr. Landry smiled crookedly at my
expression. “All right,” he said, placing a hand over the blue case. “I know
you have a lot of questions, and much as I’d like to avoid them, I suppose I
should answer a few. But time is short, Joe. I know you know this, and there
are other matters that need tendin’ to, so go on and ask them.

I opened my mouth, the first question
popping into my head easily.

Mr. Landry held up his hand before I
could get a word out. “I’m not so different from you. I’m…special, you might
say,” he said. Before I could ask what that meant, he answered, “Well, you got
your troubles and I got mine.”

I frowned, my heart thumping out of my
chest. Seeing that I needed him to elaborate, Mr. Landry did. Despite the fact
that in hindsight I could see it so clearly, I wasn’t expecting what he said
next.

He sighed, and the words looked almost
painful to say. I understood completely.

“Well,” he said, “you see things before
they happen, and I hear people’s thoughts. Fucked up world, ain’t it?”

I’m not sure which one shocked me more, Mr.
Landry’s admission, or his use of a curse word. You would think being the way I
am, I would have no trouble accepting the possibility of a telepath, but that
was not really the case. For what seemed like several long moments, Mr. Landry
said nothing, but instead just let me absorb what he had told me. When I could
finally think straight, I thought:
So I don’t have to talk and you can hear
me?

I wasn’t truly expecting an answer, but
I got one.

“No you don’t need to say nothing out
loud—probably make it easier. But I want you to know that I do my best to stay
out of your head, and everybody else’s for that matter, as much I can. Most of
the time I manage it, but with the thoughts and images you been projecting
these last few days, I couldn’t help but pick up bits and pieces of it. I
apologize for that.”

All sorts of things were flying through
my head. If Mr. Landry was telling the truth, that meant he knew
everything.
Amazingly, I felt a weight fall off my shoulders, and I found myself
smiling at the same time as a tear escaped my eye. I wasn’t alone. I can’t
describe how
beautiful
that thought was.

I’m not alone. I’m not the only one.

“No, you ain’t the only one,” Mr. Landry
said, and he patted my hand. A cough wracked his body, and he removed a
handkerchief from his pocket and covered his mouth. When he was finished, he
said, “I’ma be straight with you, Joe. You’re in some kind of pickle. I can
understand that, because my
gift
—if that’s what you wanna call it—has
got me into some messes in my own day. I wish I could help you more, but Ima
old man now, and I can help you, but you gotta understand that you’ll be the
triggerman.” He stopped and studied me. “You pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down?”

I nodded.

“Good. Then I’ll help you, because this thing
you’re up against is bad. Like I said, I only picked up bits and pieces of it,
so I need you to tell me what you know. You can just think it in your head if
that’s easier.”

It was definitely easier. My thoughts
are not impaired like my speech.

A psychopath is going to shoot up UMMS.
Tomorrow, I think. I don’t know for sure, but I just have a strong feeling that
it’s tomorrow. A lot of people are going to die if I don’t stop him. I have a
sketch in my apartment that I drew that shows the scene. You want me to get it?

Mr. Landry shook his head. “No, I’m
sorry, I don’t. I seen a lot of terrible scenes when I was on tour. I ain’t got
the stomach for the stuff no more. I don’t even like gory movies.”

I understand. Sorry about that, sir.

He waved a hand in dismissal. “Well, I
won’t even ask if you’ve considered calling the police. If you’re like me you
won’t risk them finding out about you, which is good by the way.” He leaned
forward again on the table, his voice old and wise and serious. “If you never
remember anything I tell you, remember this: there are people out there who
would love to get their hands on someone with your ability. That paranoid, gut
instinct you feel about keeping your secret, it’s there for a reason. You
understand, Joe?”

I nodded.
Yes, sir. I understand, but
I won’t lie to you, you’re scaring the spit out of me.

“Ah, well, never mind all that for now.
First things first. You know how to fire a gun?”

Yes, sir. I think so. My father taught
me how to shoot his when I was a kid, but that was a long time ago. All I
remember about the gun was that it was a Sig Sauer. I was a pretty good shot
with it, though.

“Well, at least that sonofabitch did
something right,” Mr. Landry mumbled. Then he cleared his throat. “Sorry about
that,” he said. “I’ve known you for some time now, and even with my control
I’ve picked up some things I ain’t got no business picking up.” He shrugged.
“Story of my damn life.”

It’s all right. I understand, sir.

“Yeah, suppose you would.” He held out a
hand to me. “This’ll go faster if you just let me go in and see for myself
everything that you know, so I can know what we’re up against. But if you
prefer, if that makes you uncomfortable, I understand, and I’ll listen if you
just want to recount it all.”

I thought about this a moment, and came
to the conclusion that this wouldn’t bother me. After all, I’ve never wanted to
be judged for the way I am, so how could I shy away from Mr. Landry’s strange
capability? I wouldn’t. Also, hearing him say what
we’re
up against had
comforted me greatly. I reached out and took his hand.

I wasn’t expecting anything, and that’s
what I got. My hand didn’t tingle where he touched me, and I couldn’t feel him
rummaging around in my head. I will admit that it was a bit unsettling,
however, to know that someone else was floating around in your thoughts. I felt
a pang of sympathy for him then. I didn’t know whose curse was worse—mine, or
Mr. Landry’s.

He released my hand and sat back. “Oh,
I’d say we’re about even. Though I gotta admit, I wouldn’t want to have your
gift right now. This man you’re after is trouble. He means
bad
. I
couldn’t hear his thoughts, but I saw the man you saw at your school today in
your memory of him, and even from far off, I’d say your instincts are right on
key. I think that’s him.”

I shifted in my seat. It was scary to
hear my own thoughts and fears from someone else’s lips. Scary, but also a
relief. Even if I did have to face Shadowman tomorrow, at least there was
someone who I could talk to about it. The best part was, I didn’t even have to
talk.

Me to…So now what, sir?

“Now you have to listen to everything I
say, and listen carefully. I am an old man, and some of the things I say may
sound crazy to you. But if you plan on living as long as I have with that gift
of yours, you’ll take these things I’m about to tell you and you make them your
gospel. You take the instructions I give you and follow them no matter what.
You understand, soldier?”

I nodded, frightened a little at the way
he addressed me. “Soldier” was a name that fit. It made this all seem too real.
It made
tomorrow
too real. I was going into a battle. I took a deep
breath. Mr. Landry seemed to have been waiting for me to calm down, even though
I was sure I was showing few outward signs of the way I was feeling. I nodded
again, more firmly.

He continued. “All right, pay attention.
The first and probably most important thing I’m going to tell you tonight is
this: Don’t hesitate. In fact, we’ll call this Rule Number One. This situation
you’re going into is a hostile one, no doubt about that. The man you are going
to try and take out will be eager to push his coward’s fingers down on the
triggers of his guns. You got to be ready to do the same. You get your shot,
you take it. Don’t you think twice or totter. You got me? You get it, you
take
it.
That’s an order, Soldier, we clear?”

I nodded.
Yes, sir.

“Good. What’s Rule Number One?”

Don’t hesitate. I get the shot, I take
it.

“Good. You need to understand how important
Rule Number One is. A moment’s hesitation can be the difference between life
and death. You’re stepping into a war zone tomorrow, make no mistake about
that. And that means everything that you think you understand, but you
don’t—not until you actually go there. It’s gonna be loud. The shots and
screams and terror,” Mr. Landry stopped and took a deep breath. “It’s going to
be loud. And everywhere around you you’re gonna see people in a terrible state
of panic. There’s gonna be things you don’t want to see, people…
broken
around you, maybe, but your job is to take out the hostile. He is your first
priority, soldier. As long as he’s got his hands on those guns, he’s the number
one focus. If you can’t take him out, you can’t help nobody. You have to be the
one in control. No one else around you will be.”