Shadow Man (9 page)

I heard metal crunching. I felt my left front fender cracking like an egg, but I didn't care. That shiny little toy was scrunched down to nothing. Maybe I was hurting, but James was destroyed.

Everyone comes running. You should see their faces. Mouths wide open, their eyes so shocked. I can't help laughing. I get out of my truck. Now James comes running from the liquor store, his face crumpled up like his little toy bike. Then we hunch and hug and punch each other, and for the first time today I know I'm going to be all right. It doesn't matter what's happened, it doesn't matter, Ma hurting, it doesn't matter my father keeps kicking me in the butt, kicking me, kicking me, trying to make me cry. You can kick me till I die, but I'll spit in your eye. You're not going to break me. You can go to hell.

There are people all around us, but they don't try to stop us. James's face is one big eye. I close it.

29

Sheriff Kevin Reese

Soon as I heard the news about Gabe, I figured that something like this would happen. I've got Gerald locked up. James is going to be okay. His nose is broken, but he did some damage too; Gerald's face looks like a pound of beef.

I was just back there, trying to talk to him, but it's like talking to a dog. A mean one.

He was stretched out on the bunk with his face to the wall. “I've got nothing to say to you,” he said.

“You sure as hell do. Hasn't your mother got enough trouble, without you doing some stupid thing like this?”

“Get ahold of my father. He'll bail me out.”

“You're going to the county jail,” I said, “soon as I can arrange transportation.”

He was on his feet, his hands on the bars. “What for?”

“Assault with a deadly weapon.”

“He wasn't even on the damn bike!”

“I'm just telling you how it is,” I said. “There's rules, you know, Gerald, and you broke them.”

“What about that bastard? He killed my brother!”

“Quit blaming everybody else. I'm going to tell you something, Gerald: You better get yourself together. This is pretty serious business.”

I gave him a smoke. He was all hunched over. He must've been hurting, but he wouldn't admit it. The funny thing is, I felt sorry for the kid. I've watched him grow up, through those bars.

I could've told you how that family was going to turn out. It was like a book you didn't need to read to know the end. I must've stopped Frank and David for driving drunk a hundred times. I'd say: You want to kill yourselves? Fine, do it at home. Don't go involving a bunch of innocent people.

David's never been the brightest part of the day, but he'd hate like hell to hurt anybody. He doesn't have a license now and Frank quit drinking. Or had until today. I expect later on I'll get a call from some bar, saying he's drunk and tearing the place apart.

He loved that boy. We all did. Gabe was a funny kid. Funny, as in he could make you laugh, and funny odd too, the moods he'd get in. That reminded me of his father. One second they'd be laughing and smiling; the next second their eyes would be blank.

Seemed like I pulled Gabe over every other day. That truck he drove was ancient, the same age as Frank's, and it was always missing a taillight or something.

Last week I flagged him down just outside town. When I walked up to the window, he said, “Howdy, Sheriff!” like I was just the guy he'd been wanting to see.

I said, “Gabe, I noticed your turn signal's out, the right one. Unless you just forgot to signal.”

“I'd never forget a thing like that,” he said. “It must be the bulb. I'll fix it.”

“Man,” I said, taking a good look at the truck, “this thing has seen better days.”

“Yeah, about thirty years ago,” he said. “I'm restoring it to its original condition: a hunk of metal.”

I laughed. I said, “I also noticed your brake light's out. How's the emergency brake?”

“Just fine. Take a look for yourself.” He pulled the brake handle out and handed it to me.

He was a good kid. No matter what he did, you couldn't stay mad at him.

I asked Gerald if he wanted me to call his uncle Tom, who could maybe get him a lawyer. He was going to need one.

“No.” He looked disgusted. “He wouldn't help me.”

“Your father's not home now. What about David?”

Gerald snorted. “He can't even dial the phone.”

“Then you'll have to sit tight till I find your dad.”

“Check the bars,” Gerald said, sneering.

I went back into my office and called up Tom. He said he wouldn't come down to talk to Gerald.

“Leave him there,” Tom said. “That's where he belongs.”

“His mother's got one boy at the funeral home. She doesn't need another one in jail.”

“Gerald should've thought of that!”

“Gerald doesn't think,” I said. “How's Katherine doing? I hear she's in shock.”

“I don't know how she's doing! I haven't been out there.”

“There's no need to yell, Tom. I just wanted you to know that I've got Gerald.”

“Well, keep him.” He hung up.

Gerald must've heard my side of the conversation. He laughed and said, “I told you he couldn't care less! Who needs him?”

30

James Wilkins

I'm going to get me a lawyer and sue that bastard for everything he's got. Busted up my bike, squashed it like a bug, standing there laughing like it's some big joke. Gerald thinks he can act as crazy as he wants and get away with it.

No go, Joe. The party's over.

My damn nose is killing me. My brother said, “If you feel like you look, you're hurting.”

He says I should get a lawyer and sue for the bike and all my pain and suffering.

Gabe's the one who should sue for pain and suffering! He had to live in that family. Crazy as loons, the whole damn bunch of them, and he was crazy for staying. He should've run away. Anything was better than what they done to him.

One time he came over here, years ago, maybe we were nine or ten. His nose was bloody and his eye was puffed up. He didn't say nothing; he just stood on the porch.

I said, “Your old man whipped you, didn't he?”

“No,” Gabe said. “I fell off my bike.”

“That's not true. Your old man hit you.”

“No,” Gabe said. He kept saying no. But he didn't say Gerald or David did it. So I knew it was his father, and it made me mad that he'd bullshit me like that.

“You're a liar,” I said. So we got in a fight, and all the time we hit each other, I kept saying, “Liar, he whipped you,” and Gabe kept saying no.

Then my mother came out and broke it up, and Gabe came in and had dinner. He ate at our house a lot when he was little. My mom never liked to send him home. She thought the way they treated him was wrong, but there wasn't nothing she could do. He was their kid, they could treat him any way they wanted.

Gabe's never going to show up at the door again. He's never going to tell me I'm so ugly it's pathetic. We're never going diving or hunting or fishing.

It took a long time, but they finally killed him.

31

Donald Morrison

I used the phone in the upstairs hallway. The door to my mother's den was closed. I could hear her laughing. She watches a channel that features reruns of old comedy shows. Supposedly she's in there doing the ironing. She hardly ever leaves that room, or the past.

The first number I dialed was in Mendocino. A man's voice answered.

“Hello,” I said. “I'm calling for Skedaddle the clown.”

“This is Skedaddle,” the man said.

I pictured him wearing a big wig and red nose, but he probably doesn't hang around the house like that.

“This is Donald Morrison, from the Morrison Funeral Home.”

“My God!” he gasped. “What's wrong? What's happened?”

“Nothing's wrong,” I assured him. “I just wanted you to know that the Sea Horse Festival will be postponed. One of Willow Creek's finest young men has died, and it wouldn't be right to hold a celebration now. Mr. Clyde Bridges asked me to inform you.”

I felt like a tiny boat way out on the ocean. Each word I spoke pushed me farther from shore. Maybe my father was right, and I was weak and soft. Or maybe he was wrong and I was finally on my own.

“He told me he'd pay me, rain or shine,” Skedaddle said.

“Mr. Bridges's word is as good as gold. And of course he'll want you there when the festival is rescheduled.”

“Tell him he's got to let me know in advance.”

“I imagine you're a pretty busy clown,” I said.

The top of my head felt tight and tingly. A smile kept twitching at the corners of my mouth. If I'd looked in a mirror then, I would have seen a stranger, or maybe Gabe's eyes, peeking out of my own.

I called the singer in the band that was supposed to play, a country-western group called Patty and the Posse. Patty was amazed that Clyde was canceling the event.

“Who would've thought?” she said. “He hardly seems human.”

“People are full of surprises,” I said.

I arranged for a sign to be painted and displayed downtown. It would read:
IN LOVING MEMORY OF GABRIEL MCCLOUD, THE SEA HORSE FESTIVAL WILL NOT BE HELD TODAY
.

I called up and informed Mrs. Louise Gates, whose church group ladies were catering the food for the event.

“Oh, Donald, it's no problem. We can freeze the cheese puffs,” she said. “Or maybe we could give all the food to his family, for the gathering after the funeral. They're having a funeral, aren't they?”

“I'm sure they will,” I said. “Some of the details aren't settled yet. The family is pretty upset.”

“Of course they are.” She sighed. “It's such a terrible thing. A nice boy like Gabe. Mind you, he was no angel, but who could be, with a father like that? Donald, I don't mean to pry, but I heard that, well, that Gabe had been … dismembered.”

“From his family, you mean?” I couldn't help myself. It always surprises me how even the nicest people can't get enough blood in their diets.

“I mean,” she said delicately, “how should I put this—I heard that Gabe had been decapitated. That his head came off.”

“Oh, that's not true,” I said. “As a matter of fact, we can't find the entire body. We think he went straight to heaven.”

There was a thoughtful pause. She couldn't disagree, believing, as she does, that such things are possible.

“It's a difficult situation,” I said. “Please keep it under your hat. I'll be in touch about the food.”

“Of course,” Louise said. “I think it's wonderful of Clyde to respond like this. Who would've expected it? He's already paid for the groceries and everything.”

“It's funny, but sometimes death brings out the best in people,” I said. “Wait, here's my father. He says they found Gabe. I'd better go now. Good-bye, Mrs. Gates.”

My mother was watching “I Love Lucy.” She laughed at something Ethel said to Fred. I wrote a check to Clyde, from my personal account, covering all his expenses. I left this on the front seat of his car. Then I headed toward the Hardings' house.

32

Gabriel McCloud

I am so sick of writing in this book. It seems like a waste of time. I'm not going to college. That's all Jennie talks about. She still has another year of high school. She could get a good job right here in town. She won't need to work I'll be making good money. That's the trouble with women they run you around. My mother's not like that she never had a job but latly she says she wish she did probly so she could leave us. I am sick of them fighting all the time. My father says something then she says something then David gets in the act because he hates it when they fight I think he has an ulcer or something his stomack hurts. I feel like yelling EVERYBODY SHUT UP but instead I leave the house and drive around or go see Jennie. She calms me down exsept when she talks about leaving town. I'm not scared to leave I like it here. She thinks she's to good for Willow Creek.

I feel bad today I guess you can tell. The new issue of Shadow Man came its going to be the last one it says in the back. They say it didn't catch on the readers wanted more action. They didn't even let him go back to his planet or put him in with the other super heros those guys are a bunch of jerks. They just killed him.

I can't believe they'd do that but they did. I keep looking and looking at it. Shadow Man gos to the Creator of Creation who gave all the super heros thier powers (not his parents they were only taking care of him) and the Creator sees how sad he is and says Shadow Man what's the matter? Shadow Man says (I'm copying it down so you can see the words I wish you could see the pictures) “I am cold, Creator, and I cannot get warm. I am hungry and I cannot eat. I am surrounded by crowds yet I am always alone. I am exhausted and I cannot sleep.” The Creator says “Ask for what you want, my son, and it is yours.” The Creator loves Shadow Man like his own son. And Shadow Man says “Let the fighting cease, all around the world, in every land.” The Creator looks real sad and says “With all my power, I cannot do that.” So Shadow Man says “Then give ME peace. Blind my eyes to sorrow. Fill my ears with silence. All I hear is weeping and screams. The world is a terrible place, Creator.” The Creator says “Sleep, my child; the world is only a dream.”

WHEN SHADOW MAN DIED THE HEAVENS WEPT WHILE THE EARTH SLEPT BELOW IN IGNORANCE.

That's how it ends and if you want my opinyin it sucks big time. Anyway its only a stupid comic I'm just really in a bad mood today sorry about that.

G. Mc.

Gabriel
:

Why don't you write to the editors and tell them your opinion? Publishers want to please their readers. If they hear from enough people, they'll bring
Shadow Man
back. The address is on the fan page or in the front of the magazine. Give it a try. Don't give up on Shadow Man yet
!