Falter Kingdom (23 page)

I ask him, “Why do you think you can be some gangster or something?”

He can barely look at me. Jon-Jon's looking for a weapon. He's walking away from me, and it's clear that he sees me as a monster.

I'm a monster, why?

“How about a beer?” I ask him.

“Sure,” Jon-Jon stammers.

I won't be where he thinks I am when he gets to that knife.

He looks around. The knife in his hand makes it easy to notice that he's trembling.

“You scare easy.”

He hears me, but he can't see me.

I think I'm getting used to this haunting stuff. It's true that it's hard for people to not notice you when they're absolutely freaked the crap out. Maybe they're just intimidated. Either way, it really gets people looking. It gets people in a state where they can't just turn you down as something they don't care about.

And then I ask him, just because it feels right, “Where's my beer?”

He keeps a whole fridge full of stuff. He's always got a cooler somewhere.

“Then a smoke? Can't a loyal bud get a smoke?”

He grows plenty under one of those lamps in that closet, the one near the entrance of the guesthouse. The door to the closet opens on its own. He turns and looks, which gives me time to steal the knife from him.

“Shit...”

I tell him, “No knives.”

He's thinking, “Where the hell are you?”

He's thinking, “How is this possible?”

He's thinking, “Why isn't he dead yet?”

Because Jon-Jon figured I wouldn't last, right? He figured I'd end up like the rest, totally brain-dead. Like, just a body and no one else.

Indeed.

But how much of that is true?

It is accurate, in parts.

Which parts?

Consider this—if they banished me back to the kingdom, wouldn't you follow?

Yeah, I think so. I mean, I'd be afraid, but I wouldn't want to live without you around.

Indeed. And vice versa.

So he figured I'd be done, finished.

This is where I walk right up to him and ask, “How much of a gangster are you, on a scale of one to ten, ten being a crime lord?”

No answer. He just stands there, trying to hold it all together. He looks right at me, eyes wide, a single tear forming in his left eye.

I watch as it runs down his face, and then I answer for him: “Two. At best.” I shake my head. “I'm Hunter, who are you?”

Not saying anything. He's scared stiff and shaking.

“Jon-Jon?” I shake my head again. “You're just like anyone else, but you just think you're bigger, more important.” I dangle the knife he was going to use on me in front of his face. “I mean, really? You were going to attack me? Like some kind of monster?”

I drive the knife into one of the couch cushions.

“That's not meant for anybody.”

And then I tell him. I tell him everything you've told me. I tell him about his future, about how he'll keep riding out that idea of being some kind of dealer, some kind of gangster, some kind of self-proclaimed badass or something. I tell him about how he's racking up the enemies.

“I'm one of them. Big surprise, I know. But I am. I've always hated you.”

He's turning people against him, secretly. Only reason they're not lashing out and just ruining him is because of all the dirt and money he has on them. He gets us all warped around this idea that he might be powerful, able to really ruin us. But what's he doing? He's not doing anything.

He can't do a thing.

Jon-Jon is just an idea. Nowhere near being alive. Can't be alive if living takes some degree of care.

“You don't care,” I tell him. “You won't care at all unless you're forced to, like, care to get out of what's happening here!”

Let's get out of here. I can't stand the sight of him. He's the one who looks completely insane. He's like this impossible idea that

somehow exists just because so many people pretend that it's real. Like a crackpot theory that continues to go around
from circle to circle because it's, I don't know, somehow believable to people with a certain kind of mind-set.

I mean, I guess.

He's just a guy, and a guy not really worth knowing. He owes me a lot, but I'm not even going to bother. Unless you want to mess with him?

I'd rather not.

Yeah. He's not worth a damn. I said no to people who made me want to be less like myself when I dumped Becca. I'm saying no a second time.

People like Jon-Jon are the real demons.

I'm just tired of being something I'm not. You know?

I know well.

Yeah. You and me, we're the same.

You know I really want to. I know you think it's not worth it and that it's just because it's her—Nikki Dillon—that I want to see. Just a glimpse though. You never do that, do you? You never just take a peek?

I don't follow.

Guess not. It's, well... anyway, you got to know that I'm interested for more than just that. I just want to see what the real Nikki is like. I've always had a crush on the girl. From a distance, she seems perfect. But then I found out that she's more like everyone else. But part of me just wants to be able to see, you know? I mean, I'm fine if you don't want to go, but maybe I need this just for closure. She was the reason I liked being haunted.

Stupid, I know.

It was before people started showing their true colors and stuff.

No reason not to, given that we're already outside her front door. But then should we be, like, more covert about it? Spy agent style or something? Should it be straight haunting? Huh?

I know, I know. It's up to me. But help me out. Be a friend. Am I scary enough to her without all the haunting and stuff?

It appears as though standing at her door for an inordinate amount of time would be enough of a fear-inducing proposal.

Ah, shit, fine. I'm ringing the doorbell. Here goes nothing.

I'm still nervous. After all that's happened, I'm still so fucking nervous. I could be shaking, I'm so nervous. I don't even know. Am I shaking?

Yes. You are shaking. Stop shaking.

I'm trying. She's not answering.

She'll answer.

But she's not really answering. I bet it's because she sees me at the door.

Ring the doorbell again.

Okay.

This looks pretty creepy, just standing here. That's kind of the point though, yeah? I guess I'm sort of hoping she's different when she's not surrounded by people. Like Brad and everyone else—kind of hoping it's like, “Hey, you're actually not a coldhearted bitch.”

Ring the doorbell.

I just did.

Keep ringing it. Do not stop.

Oh, I get it. Eh, might as well go that way. This is creepy as hell. The parents are probably going to call the cops.

The parents will do no such thing.

That's reassuring.

But not as much as when she opens the door and acts like everything's okay. It's like,
What are you driving at?
I hear the locking mechanism slide open, and there she is, standing there like she would at school. And it's like,
Hey, it's been a while.

She doesn't look at me like I'm a disaster, doesn't look at me like something went wrong.

Nikki sort of eyes me up and down and says, “Hunter.” And then she looks past me and says, “I guess you'll want to step inside.”

Not going to say no to that. Nikki walks over to where she was sitting before, next to her parents, who look at me and act like I wasn't actually ringing the doorbell like crazy, like I'm not that kid who has the demon, like I'm just someone from school stopping by to say hello.

So I say, “Hello.” Guess that's as good as anything else to say.

Nikki motions over to an empty spot on the couch and I sit down. She offers me a drink and then fetches a glass of water that I don't actually drink.

Nothing about this seems weird though.

Like, everyone sitting here—they are already so far away from caring it's kind of like they're all still alone. There're the parents, yeah, but Nikki's that way too She looks tired. She looks bored. She looks... I really don't know.

So I ask her, “How's it going?”

She kind of nods. “Same.”

The parents both ask me, “How do you know Nikki?”

Well...
But instead I say, “We go to Meadows. We have a class together.”

But then Nikki says, “No, we don't.”

Her mom smiles. “That's nice.”

Her dad says, “It's important to keep friends close. It's crazy out there. Lots of demons just looking to run you down...”

Are you weirded out by what's happening?

It is mildly disconcerting.

Yeah, this is creeping me out. Shouldn't they be all like,
Get the hell out?
They should be looking at me like I'm insane. That's what I've expected it to be. But now... Well, one thing's for sure: Nikki's definitely different outside of school. It's like the life's been taken out of her.

What's going on? I can't help but get the feeling that—

You feel it too, don't you? Of course you do. So what do we do?

I guess I shouldn't have to ask. It's kind of obvious. Got to get out of here. I guess they all knew.

I don't know. I'm just...

I'm nervous, okay? I'm nervous.

They're acting like nothing's wrong. They had a plan all along.

Nikki looks at the glass of water in my hand. “Would you like another drink?” And that's a signal or something. You're as aware as me. It's going to happen. But where, where will they enter? How will they get me? Why do they make me the insane one, when really I'm maybe just what they don't understand?

Look around. See anything?

Nikki just left the room. It's going to happen now, isn't it?

Indeed. It will.

Can we do anything about this?

There are a number of options—many of them resulting in capture. The lone choice is to invoke activity. Yet in doing so, it will result in quite the display of possession. It will not hold you in favor. It will accentuate their understanding of your situation.

Yeah. So we're cornered.

The whole thing felt wrong, you know, showing up here.

But it's kind of like I had no choice. I was going to show up here anyway. I needed to know. It's kind of like “I told you so.” I know that's the case. I know you told me not to come here. It's my fault. I'm weak, I'm human. I'm not actually weak, just saying. I really shouldn't have bothered. Yeah, there they are. There's Becca.

She knew. Not long but she knew.

They followed me.

Yes. In a moment, the priests will enter the room.

Becca won't even look at me. Nikki steps back into the room. Her parents remain seated, watching television.

Nikki says to Becca, “Hey.”

“Yeah.”

“You're doing this, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Bummer kind of day.”

Becca shrugs. “Bummer kind of week.”

Nikki looks over at the TV. “Bummer kind of life.”

Becca looks out one of the windows. “Okay, they're here.”

“Won't need anything else, right?”

Becca sighs. “No.”

Nikki nods. “Good, then leave. My part in this is so finished.”

Becca mutters, “Bitch.”

Nikki hears it but doesn't care. Becca isn't in the same league. Nikki did this because Becca found out about what happened between us. Becca blames Nikki, not me. Becca's made this into some kind of demon hunt or something, and I'm the one hunted.

I'm the one captured.

The priests sneak up on me. I was too busy watching them talk.

Dad's there too.

People narrow their eyes, make faces when they look at me. It's like,
Here I am, the demonically possessed. Ruined. In need of being cured. Because I'm supposed to be spared or, like, sacrificed or something.
They've caught me, and I could have easily listened and I wouldn't have been caught, would have been able to go back to Falter or something to figure things out.

But here I am, caught.

Led to a van.

Tied down as Father Albert sits next to me, saying prayers.

Father Andrew holds me down.

Dad drives.

Becca in the front passenger seat.

Mom nowhere to be seen.

Your mother had to work.

Yeah, what else is new?

Becca looks back at me, looks through me like I insulted her. And she says, “I can't believe you'd do something like that.”

Maybe she's talking about how I haunted her, but really she's talking about what happened with Nikki. Nikki didn't tell her anything. Becca assumes it was a whole lot more than it really was. But I'm not going to say anything. I don't need to say anything. Becca won't leave.

I'm beginning to think that I'll be the one who has to leave. You know, leave the entire situation. It might be necessary.

Indeed.

Nikki... why did I even bother?

Would you like to know how Nikki dies?

Yeah, sure. Why not?

Nicole Dillon will drop out of college during her junior year in order to marry a man, a doctor twelve years her senior. The marriage will last two years before ending in divorce. Without any income, and having signed a prenuptial agreement before marriage, Dillon will move back in with her parents. For five years, she will work retail. A year in, Dillon will try oxycodone for the first time. Dillon will decide to relocate in order to attempt a career in acting. She will experience a moderate degree of success, appearing in countless commercials, and will catch a break upon recording a voice for a cartoon character. Dillon will begin to settle into the life she assumed she desired. Yet Dillon will be unable to shake the demons born from substance abuse. Her health will decline sharply a few months after turning thirty-one. Unable to perform, she will live in fear. Meanwhile, Dillon will struggle to maintain her habit. She will attempt to find help from alternative medicine, going so far as searching for a demon to possess her. Dillon will lock herself in a five-star hotel room one summer afternoon. Spending her life savings for a five-night stay, Dillon will overdose by the third. Her body will be found an hour after checkout on the fifth day. A Do Not Disturb sign will have been her lone defense against the outside world.