The lost boys, p.11
The Lost Boys, page 11
Michael could feel his heartbeat. It was heavy inside his chest. His heart racked his whole body with its pulse, as if it wanted to break free of his rib cage and go bouncing across the pantry floor. He could feel the blood surge through his arteries and veins, pushing against the skin of his arms, his legs, his chest, his temples. He felt as if he might burst in a dozen places, great fountains of blood pouring from a dozen wounds.
Michael forced his head back down. He had to stop this somehow.
He saw a mouse in the comer. A large mouse in a trap, its neck slashed and broken, but not quite dead. It struggled feebly in the comer. And it bled. Bright red droplets fell to the kitchen floor.
The mouse pulsed and expanded, just like everything else around Michael. He didn’t care. All he could see was the blood. The mouse stiffened, eyes wide open, dead at last. Michael dragged himself over toward the dead rodent, heedless of the pain in his stomach and chest.
He reached out his fingers to the pantry floor.
He had to touch the blood.
Twenty
Her stomach was all in knots. She had the urge for a cigarette for the first time in a year and a half. She was too old for this sort of thing.
How long had it been, Lucy wondered, since she had been on a date? And a first date, at that?
She and Lance had gotten married right out of college. It had been the thing to do back then, get married right away. People hadn’t adjusted back then to couples just “living together.” Plus there was always that grand and glorious specter of Vietnam. You might as well do what you can today, whether it was to get married or drop LSD, because tomorrow the guys would get drafted and next month they’d be dead.
It was a different world now. And Lucy was out in it, entirely on her own.
Enough philosophizing, she told herself. Get into the restaurant!
She walked through the front door of the Sea Cloud.
Max was waiting just inside. He smiled his roguish grin as she entered the room and plucked a rose from a bouquet on a table against the wall. He presented the flower to her with a flourish. Lucy accepted and decided Max got at least a couple points for style.
The main room of the restaurant was a bit too dark, almost too intimate. The maitre d’ led them to a comer table with a window view of the ocean, far away from the noise and bustle of the other diners. Lucy wouldn’t be surprised if Max had planned that too. The maitre d’ left
them each with a menu. She had to squint to read it in the room’s half light. Still, she noticed right away that her menu didn’t have any prices on it.
Max put down his menu. The waiter was there instantly.
“Ready to order now, sir?”
Lucy closed her menu and looked at Max.
“I’ll just have the filet of sole.”
“No you won’t,” Max replied. He glanced at the waiter. “We’ll start with caviar. Caesar salad and your two biggest lobsters. And, I think, champagne.” He flipped open the wine list for the briefest of moments. “Dorn Perignon. Seventy-one.”
“Very good, sir,” the waiter replied, taking the menus and departing.
Max turned back to Lucy and frowned.
“Not impressed, huh?”
Lucy was flustered for an instant, surprised that her disappointment was so apparent. How could she explain it to him?
“Oh, I would have been” she said at last. “One marriage ago.”
Max grinned. “So, I’ve met the one woman who’s going to hold my success against me.”
Lucy sighed. She had so wanted this evening to go right. It seemed now like it was headed in completely the wrong direction.
“You seem like a terrific person, Max,” she said in an attempt to salvage something. “And I’m grateful for the job.”
“But it’s not really what you want to do, is it?” Max asked gently.
Lucy leaned across the table, intent on being understood. “I want to do anything that makes dragging Michael and Sam here to Santa Carla, against their will, easier on them.”
Max leaned closer too. “You’re a nurturer, Lucy, a protector.” He lowered his voice so that it was almost a growl. “A lioness with her cubs.”
Lucy laughed despite herself. ‘‘My cubs can’t wait to get away from this lioness. I think my mothering days are nearly over. ’ ’
Max took her hand.
“They don’t have to be,” he said.
He needed more.
The mouse had helped. The pain was gone. But he knew it wouldn’t last for long. He needed more.
He was calmer now. So calm. He needed to stay calm, away from the pain.
Rock music drifted down from the second floor. He climbed the stairs. The music grew louder, and so did the sound of his heart. His heart beat in time with the music as his feet glided up the stairs. His heartbeat grew stronger still. He reached the landing. He could barely hear the music coming from behind the closed bathroom door.
He walked toward the bathroom. His heartbeat was so loud. There was nothing but his heartbeat.
He stood outside the bathroom door.
He knew what his heart needed.
Sam sang along with the tape on his boom box. Clarence “Frogman” Henry croaked “I Ain’t Got No Home.” Sam croaked along. He might not have a home, but this bathtub was the next best thing.
He had spent the last ten minutes with shampoo in his hair, sculpting it as he glanced appreciatively at the full-length mirror across from the tub. The punk styles he got were ten times better than anything the Surf Nazis ever even dreamed of. Sam had to admit it, he was one cool dude. Nanook sat by the side of the tub, watching everything Sam did with fascination. Occasionally the dog barked approval.
It was great, sitting here in the bathtub, radio up loud, especially when Mom wasn’t around to tell him to turn the music down or to get out of the tub before he turned into a
raisin.
Nanook stood up, sniffing. The dog walked to the door, whining softly.
What was the matter with Nanook? The dog didn’t say. Sam went back to sculpting his hair.
Nanook whined again. Maybe the dog didn’t like the song on the tape.
He stood outside the bathroom door. He could hear nothing but his heartbeat. He didn’t want the pain to come again. He knew what he needed. So close, just the other side of this door. He reached for the knob.
And thought about his brother.
He pulled his hand away.
No! Sam was in there! Not Sam!
His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else.
He put his back to the door, trying to fight what grew inside him.
His hand reached for the doorknob.
He knew what he needed.
Nanook was really getting restless.
Maybe, Sam thought, I've spent enough time in the tub. Who knows, maybe the dog had to go to the bathroom or something. He hated to think how mad his mom would get if the dog peed all over the carpet. He’d get out of the tub as soon as this song was over.
The dog made another noise deep in its throat.
Okay. Okay. Time to rinse the hair. Sam held his breath and dunked his head under the water.
He knew what he needed.
The door was locked. He smashed at the knob with the side of his fist. He didn’t want the pain to come again. The door swung open, hard.
He was in the room.
The dog. He had forgotten about the dog.
The dog growled and leapt for him, pushing him into the hallway. The door slammed shut behind them.
What was that?
Sam had never heard such a racket before. It started just as soon as he had come up for air. Crashing and banging, growling and barking, it sounded like the villagers were fighting the Wolfman on the other side of the bathroom door.
There was another bumping sound. The villagers and the Wolfman seemed to have rolled down the stairs.
Then it was quiet.
Sam got out of the tub and wrapped a towel around his middle. What was going on out there? Michael must have had a real accident.
Then he realized that Nanook was gone. How had the dog gotten through the locked door?
He reached for the door and found that the lock was broken. The door swung open silently.
It was dark in the hall, but there was nobody there. Sam walked slowly down the stairs.
“Michael?” he called. “Are you there, Nanook?”
There was no reply. Sam swallowed and moved on down the stairs.
He stopped. He heard someone, or something, breathing heavily at the bottom of the stairs.
“Michael?” he asked.
“Don’t turn on the light,” his brother replied hoarsely.
What kind of trick was Michael trying to pull now? Sam turned on the light and screamed. His brother was huddled at the bottom of the stairs, his face and hands covered with blood.
“What happened, Michael?”
“Nanook . . His brother moaned.
Sam looked around. He didn’t see the dog anywhere.
“What about Nanook?” he demanded. “What have you done to Nanook?” Sam was getting angrier with every word he shouted. “What have you done to my dog, you asshole?”
“Nothing!” Michael responded a bit louder than before. “I didn’t hurt him. He bit me! This is my blood!”
Michael lifted his hand so that Sam could see the gash across his palm, a long, red, ugly thing. Sam took a step away. He heard Nanook’s dog tags jingle across the front room. The dog appeared out of the darkness to sit next to him. What would make Nanook do something like that to Michael?
“What did you do to him, Michael?”.Sam asked. “Why did he bite you?”
“He was protecting you" Michael retorted.
Protecting me? Sam thought. His brother didn’t make any sense. Protecting me from what?
Then Sam looked in the mirror. He realized, when he looked back at his brother, that his mouth was open.
“What?” his brother demanded.
Sam pointed. “Look at your reflection in the mirror!”
Michael looked and saw the same thing Sam had. Michael had almost no reflection at all. He looked like a ghost in one of those old movies, only faintly there. You could see the wall behind him, right through his body.
Oh, shit. Sam knew what it meant when you had no reflection.
“You’re a creature of the night, Michael!” Sam turned his accusing finger on his brother. What had Michael gotten himself into this time? Sam saw that his hand was shaking. “Just like the comic book! You’re a vampire,
Michael! My own brother, a goddamn, shit-sucking vampire!” He swallowed. ‘‘Just wait till Mom finds out!”
His brother stood up. Sam doubted that Michael believed him. The way he looked, Sam doubted that Michael knew what planet he was on.
Michael staggered toward the staircase.
“Stay away!” Sam yelled. He made a cross with his index fingers and ran quickly up the stairs. Nanook was right behind him. Once inside his room, he slammed the door closed and locked it, then did the same with the door that led from his room to the bathroom.
Michael had already broken the lock on the other door. Neither of these locks were any stronger. Sam knew he didn’t have much time.
He quickly found the vampire comic in the plastic bag. The Frogs’ number was on the back.
He heard Michael, outside, climbing the stairs.
Twenty-one
Sam explained the situation as quickly as possible.
“You did the right thing, calling us,” Edgar said on the other end of the phone. “Does your brother sleep a lot?” “All day,” Sam answered.
“Can’t stand light?” It was Alan’s voice this time. “Wears sunglasses in the house,” Sam agreed.
“Bad breath?” Edgar asked. “Long fingernails?”
Sam had to think about this one. “His fingernails are definitely longer,” he said after a moment, “but he always had bad breath.”
“Salt sticks to the bottom of his feet,” Alan added. “Yeah,” Sam said. He’d almost forgotten about that. “He’s a vampire, all right,” Alan said with finality. “Get yourself a good sharp stake,” Edgar advised, “and drive it through his heart.”
“I can’t do that!” Sam exclaimed. “He’s my brother!” “Okay,” Alan replied reassuringly. “We’ll come over and do it.”
“No!” Sam cried.
“Well,” Edgar advised, “you better get yourself a garlic T-shirt, buddy, or it’s your funeral.”
Sam hung up. This was worse than he thought.
What could he do?
Maybe if he could just go to sleep, everything would get better. Maybe it could all turn out to be a dream.
Michael flopped down on his bed, exhausted. He closed his eyes and could feel himself drifting. His muscles were so tired that he could barely feel the bed beneath him. He felt as if he were floating, so full of fatigue that he couldn’t even fall asleep.
Something cold pressed against his nose. He opened his eyes. A long, white surface of some sort stretched before him. Was he dreaming at last? He blinked his eyes. It didn’t feel like a dream. Where was he?
He looked around to see his bed, six feet below. That white space above him was the ceiling. He was floating.
Michael’s heart wanted to stop beating. But this was impossible! How could he be weightless? His fright gave way to a cold determination. He was not going to let this happen. He still had some control over his life! He was going to turn himself around and get back down onto the bed.
He used his hands to push himself along the ceiling toward the window. Then, all he had to do was twist himself around and lower himself down with the blind cord. He pushed himself away from the ceiling and wall, trying to spin himself around so that he was facing downward.
There! He reached out his hand and grabbed the cord. But his body kept on spinning. His feet were moving in front of him now, straight toward the open window. Panic-stricken, Michael almost lost his grip on the cord. His fingertips brushed the windowsill as they passed.
Then he was outside the house, floating away on the wind.
What was he going to do? Sam couldn’t kill his brother, no matter what the Frogs said. But what if Michael tried to kill him? Where were Mom and Grandpa when he really needed them?
The phone rang. Sam jumped up and grabbed it. “Hello!” he shrieked into the receiver.
“Sam?” It was his mother’s voice on the phone. His mother! “Is everything all right?”
“Mom,” Sam replied, trying to calm his voice. “I think we’ve got to have a long talk about something.” “What’s wrong?” his mother demanded. “Tell me.” What could he say to her? That Michael had turned into a vampire? She’d only believe it when she saw it herself.
“We can’t talk about it on the phone,” he answered. How could he get her to come home? Couldn’t she hear how important it was?
There was something moving outside the window. Sam looked up. It was Michael, floating toward him.
“Oh, no!” Sam yelled. “Oh, God! He’s coming to get me! Mom!”
He heard the phone drop at his mother’s end.
Michael was coming right for him! Sam backed away. If his brother could fly, no place was safe.
Glass burst into the room as Michael’s foot crashed through the bedroom window.
“Help me, Sam!” his brother screamed. “Help me!” Sam looked back at Michael, who flailed in the air, halfway in the room, halfway over the back yard. His brother didn’t look much like a vampire out there. In fact, his brother looked totally out of control.
Sam decided to help him.
“Stay there, Michael!” he called. “I’ll get you!”
But the wind was back, a winter gale blowing through the window, so strong that it almost pushed Sam the other way. He fought against it, moving across the room with deliberate steps.
He grabbed Michael’s foot.
The wind was gone. Sam began to pull his brother inside. Michael had no weight at all. It was like pulling a balloon.
He dragged his brother’s head and shoulders into the room. Michael stared wide-eyed at Sam. He looked even more scared than Sam felt.
“We’ve got to stick together, Sam.” Michael’s voice shook as he spoke. “You’ve got to help me.”
“What about Mom?” Sam asked as he quickly hauled him in.
“Please, Sam.” If it was possible, Michael turned even paler. “Don’t tell her.”
“I don’t know, Michael.” Sam grabbed his brother’s belt. “This is not like breaking a lamp or getting a D.” He pulled on his brother’s knees and then his shoes. Now all he had to figure out was a way to get Michael back on the ground.
“Just for a few days, Sam,” Michael pleaded. “Give me a chance to work this out myself.”
Yeah, Sam thought, if he could learn how to use gravity again. But Michael seemed more like his old brother with every passing moment. Maybe he was right, after all, and there was still some way Michael could work this out.
It was certainly easier than driving a stake through his heart.
Something was wrong at home. Really wrong. Lucy ran straight out to the Land Rover. She’d have to explain it all to Max later. She just hoped he would understand.
Luckily the restaurant was on the right side of town, only a few minutes drive away from their house. Her father’s place was secluded, a bit off the main highways. Could there have been a burglar? Maybe she should have called the police.
But she hadn’t had any time to call the police, or explain things to Max. She’d only had time to react, to jump in her car and drive twenty miles above the speed limit for home.
She jammed on the brakes as the Land Rover rushed into Grandpa’s driveway. She was out of the car as soon as she could throw it into park, running for the house. The front door was unlocked. She rushed into the front hallway. Sam ambled down the stairs in her direction.
