Mayday (10 page)

Crow looked at me. “No!” she said. “Go away.”

“What have you placed in front of this door?” The bed and dresser shook as the door opened and closed an inch.

“He's pushing,” I hissed. “He's going to get in soon enough.”

Crow's wide eyes scanned the room. “My knife.”

“No, that doesn't stop him. Trust me. We need to get out.” I jumped off the bed, raised the blinds. Rain pounded on the outside sill. “We all race to the tree house. He can't follow us up there. He doesn't fit.”

Crow hopped off the bed and threw open the window. Rain splattered into the room, and more thunder shook the house. She scrambled beside Adele, shook her shoulders gently. “Sis, I need you to wake up.” Slowly, Addy sat and rubbed her eyes.

The dresser rocked and jiggled, inching farther into the room. Jude's fingers reached in. “Open this door!”

“What's happening?” Addy stared at the shaking furniture.

I pushed back against the dresser, but my weight was no match for Jude's strength. “Follow me.” I bounded across the room and climbed out the window into the pouring rain. I turned and stuck my head back inside and reached out my hands.

“Addy.” Crow lugged her off the bed. “Do you see Shane? I need you to go to her. She's going to take you to the tree house. It's not safe here. We need to get to the tree house as fast as we can.”

She shook her head and grabbed Crow around the neck. Thunder boomed. “I'm not going out there now.”

“You are.” Crow hauled her toward the window. “Trust me. You need to trust me that it will be all right. Shane in front of you; me behind you.”

“Give me your hand!” I screamed, and reached for Adele's arm. “That's good. I'll be with you the whole way.”

Behind them, Jude's head poked through the door. “Do not go out that window!”

Crow turned, saw him, and lifted Adele. I pulled and Crow pushed, and we squeezed Addy through the opening. She landed with a wet thud and ducked beneath the eaves. “I want to go inside! This is insane!”

Crow squeezed out the window, grabbed Adele around the shoulder, and the three of us scrambled across the lawn beneath the strobe-light sky.

“I hate this! What are we doing this for?” Adele wriggled and hit and pulled free as Crow slipped to her knees. Addy raced back toward the open window of the house.

“No, Adele!” I chased after her, watched in horror as she stuck her head back into the room. Strong hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her inside. Jude's satisfied face slammed the window and pulled the shade.

Crow beat on the glass.

“Addy. I'm coming, Addy!”

I scanned the backyard, came up empty, and ran to the side of the house. I scooped up a paving stone, stumbled back, and yanked Crow aside. I flung the stone, and shards exploded into the night.

“Stop! No, that hurts!” Addy screamed from inside.

“He's got the bookshelf in front of the window!” Crow's eyes were frantic. “Bathroom!” I ran for another paving stone, sloshed back, and handed it to Crow.

She ripped off the screen and smashed the glass. She struck that window, again and again, until a large hole, jagged and dripping, appeared. Crow leaped up and disappeared. I struggled after her, tumbled to the bathroom floor, and raced into the hall.

And paused.

The sound was so foreign to the home, I hardly recognized it. A weeping, heavy and terrible. Jude's sobs filled his room, forced their way through the closed door and into the hall, rising above the din of the storm.

The Monster wept.

I broke free and charged toward our bedroom. I squeezed into the room and froze.

The bookshelf by the window had been pulled away, and Crow's torso stretched outside. In the distance, faint and thin, Addy was calling.

“Crow? Where are you, Crow?” Over and over in the storm. I heard her name, my name. Crow jumped back out, and I walked, stiff and gasping, to the sill. A numbness I knew so well returned, and I leaned out into the rain, let myself fall forward onto the ground. Droplets, once warm and firm on my skin, turned cold.

“It can't have happened. It can't—” I looked up, while the entire night wept. In the middle of the yard, Addy stumbled toward Crow, her pajamas ripped, her legs wobbly. Crow caught Addy in her arms, and the thunder stole Addy's words.

But not the look on her face. Each flash of lightning showed the pain.

My sister in pain.

“What did he do to you?” Crow screamed.

Addy shook her head and squeezed Crow tighter.

“Get her into the tree house!” I called, staggering to my feet.

Crow stared at me.

“Go! Go!”

She led Addy to the ladder. Addy climbed up, and Crow glanced at me again . . . and collapsed, splashing face-first into a puddle. She did not move. I ran toward her, lifted her face out of the mud, and stroked her hair.

“Oh, Crow—”

“She slipped through my fingers. I had her safe in my hands. . . .” Her face darkened. “I need my knife.”

“No.” My head fell onto her chest. “Not tonight. Tonight, Addy needs us.”

Crow's eyes opened wide, and she stumbled to her feet and climbed the ladder.

I followed without words or purpose. There was nothing I could do, nothing I could say.

How could I have failed again?

I crawled out of the rain and into a lonely place and grabbed the top blanket off the folded pile.

I sat where I first had met Crow. My vision blurred, and I blinked and looked around the tree house. Mittens from Sadie balled up in a corner, while the two sisters huddled together.

“Please, Addy,” Crow choked through tears. “What did he do to you?”

“I don't know.” Addy sobbed. “I don't know. He held me on his lap. His hands, they were everywhere. On top . . .” Her shaking hand raised to her mouth, and she whispered, “Underneath.” She peeked down at her ripped pajamas. “Then glass broke, and he screamed and dropped me and ran out. I wish Mom was here.”

My head fell back with a thud. Had it not been for my theatrics this morning, Mom would have been.

Mayday came after all.

“Addy, I should have told you so much more.” Crow stroked her sister's hair. “I should have been clear. I knew what he wanted, and I thought I could keep it away and didn't want you to live worried. But maybe if
you
would've told Mom, she would have listened.”

Addy nestled in tighter. “You knew he would try this? The knife, it wasn't for all those sandwiches you brought into the room?”

Crow squeezed tight her eyes.

“And the bed, you weren't really afraid of sleepwalking. That's not why you moved it.” Addy whispered, “And I bet you're not afraid of the dark.”

Addy looked up, grabbed a blanket, and drew it close. She breathed deeply. “Crow, I love you.”

Fresh tears traced down Crow's cheeks, and we sat, hurting and healing, beneath the storm.

“Finish the story,” Addy said. “The boat one. The maiden and the troll were in a raft. They're safe.”

Crow glanced around the tree house, her gaze skipping over me. “Now? I don't think I can—”

“Please.”

I scooted around the tree house next to Adele. My locket felt extraordinarily heavy, like a boulder in my pocket. I lifted it out and flipped it open.

Yellow. All hint of green was gone. Half done. Sadie said yellow meant half done. But there was nobody left to save. I reached my arm around Adele and felt nothing.

“It was Shane.” Crow sighed. “In the raft? That was supposed to be Shane.”

“No,” I whispered, and crawled directly in front of Addy. I tried to draw her near, tried to grasp Crow's hand with my own, but all sense of touch had faded. I was drifting into shadow.

“Addy? Crow? I'm here. I'm still here.”

“Shane. Of course it was. Where did she go?” Adele dropped her gaze and pressed harder into Crow.

“She must still be in the yard. You know her. She'll be up soon. She always comes at the right time. Unlike me.”

“I'm right here!” I yelled, and buried my face in my hands. When next I moved them, Sadie's face leaned over mine.

“I know, child. I know.”

Sadie straightened and reached for her knitting. The back of the ambulance was as I left it—rain pounding down on the roof, Shane lying beside me. I propped myself up on an elbow. I was dry, and I was Crow.

Sadie stared over at Shane, her body wet, her arm sliced from shards of window glass and caked in blood. Sadie reached over and touched Shane's face, frozen in a look of panic.

“You sure done put your loaner through it. Appreciate you bringing her back, though.”

“It wasn't my choice. You pulled me!” My voice cracked. “One thing. All I had to do was one thing. And I did nothing. I failed Addy again.”

“You still missing the point. I told you before, you wasn't making the trip for her. It's a dicey proposition to alter events for others. You was introducin' too many variables. I had no choice but to bring you back. I told you, best stick to your own affairs.” She looked up from her scarf. “Though in that respect you done good.”

I swung to a sitting position, and the world spun.

“Take it on easy now. The process doesn't come without a bit of dizziness.”

“What did I do for Crow? For me?”

“I saw a hardened girl start believing in someone again. She started believing in you, which means Crow started to believe in herself. I saw a girl full of guilt from her daddy leavin', her whole life so sure she played the main role. I don't see that anymore. She's starting to feel the truth. That's plantin' seeds. That's progress.” She bustled into the front. “Come up here.”

I climbed after Sadie, and together we stared at the display. Nothing had changed with Lifeless. Jude and the doctor stood at the bedside, lost in serious discussion. Adele was there, too.

“Watch.” Sadie whispered.

Dr. Ambrose handed Jude a clipboard, and Jude took a pen from his pocket. Adele screamed and flew toward them. She slapped Jude across the face, then slapped the doctor. While both men bent over, palms to cheeks, she snatched the paper and ran from the room.

“Okay, that's not . . . Adele would never do that.”

“That's the thing, child. You entered, set a chain of events in motion, and disappeared. Your main effect was on you, but I wouldn't bet that you was as hopeless as you thought, even with Addy.” Sadie reached out her hand. “I need you to return the locket, Coraline. Wherever you end up, it can't go with you.”

I stared down at it, flipped it open to be sure. “Yellow. Wait, you said that was halfway. In the dream, plenty happens after it turns yellow. I have more time.” I stared at her. “Send me back again.” I grabbed Sadie's knitting, stuck the locket in her face. “Are you listening? It's still yellow! I have time! You said that until the color fades to black, I can change.”

“Walkabouts is intended to be second chances, not thirds or fourths.” Sadie whispered. “They're gifts, really. Besides, why should I give loaners to folk who will not follow direction, who focus on everyone else's life but their own?”

“Okay, I get that, and this
is
about my life!” I lowered my voice. “Listen, please, that wasn't the only Mayday disaster. I couldn't stop the first one. I can still stop the second.”

Sadie gently reached for her needles. I snatched them out of her grasp.

She sighed. “I know what happened, saw your accident with my own eyes. But we don't use walkabouts to cheat death. We use them to make better on life.”

“I can do both. Send me back and I'll give you back your knitting stuff. A trade.”

My, how out of my league I now see I was. The arrogance. The folly of playing cat and mouse with Sadie's knitting may be my single dumbest act. But she was merciful.

“Supposin' I was to send you back again, when would you—”

“Winter, senior year.”

“Your last year. We're clear that this is the year of
your
crash.” Sadie clicked her tongue and gave a knowing nod. “If'n I send you back, I'd have some explainin' to do.” She exhaled loud and long. “But you are right. The locket's at yellow. You have some time.” She paused. “But not much. Be still.”

This command made no sense until I tried to move. Muscles no longer obeyed. Inside my chest, there was a vacuum. No heartbeat. No breathing. I sat there every bit the mannequin. Sadie reached over and plucked her knitting from limp hands, and I was released.

She raised her yarn in front of my face, and her eyes flashed. “Some liberties best not to take. Get in back.”

My eyes widened, and I leaped through the door.

And winced.

“Now, there's a guy back here. I'd say he's eighteen or nineteen. He's good looking but, wait, no. You're not sending me back as a guy? That's uh, not going to work.”

“It'll work just fine. While you was frozen up front, I done searched for a young lady, but we's fresh out of suitables right now. But don't you fret. Like I said last time, we've altered the body.”

“Can't you alter him to a female?”

Sadie turned somber. “We can only go so far. Here's a scarf for the trip. It'll be even colder.”

I eased down onto the cot. “Does he have a name?”

“He did. But I suggest you keep using Shane, for ease. Remember, when red turns black, you're coming back, this time for good. No argument.”

“Just give me until Mayday. I can make things right.” I peeked over at Shane. “I think.”

For a second time, I joined hands with a corpse.

“Good-bye, Coraline.”

THE THOUGHTS OF C. RAINE

See things from the boy's point of view.

Sir Alec Baldwin

COLD. I FIRST FELT IT ON MY ANKLES AND WRISTS
—a surrounding, aching cold—and I, Shane, opened my eyes.

All was white, and my mind traveled to Mexico.

During my junior year, three disciples and I traveled there for spring break. The others were in it for the guys. They flew thousands of miles to tan their bodies by day, and slowly lose their minds—and then much more—by night.

I kept my skin covered and shielded by black.

After all, I went for the ocean.

The raw power of waves splashing forever toward me, crashing on the rocks, pooling, spraying, caressing. Then leaving—no commitment sought, no damage done, no defilement left.

Chekov said, “The sea has neither meaning nor pity.” I don't know. I could do an ocean.

A twisted idea? Sure. But Minnesota inclines the soul toward the coasts.

Now snow—that was common as spit. I was born beneath it, raised surrounded by it, expected to shovel it and trudge through it, only to watch it turn dirt black along the roads. White disappeared. Dirtied, defiled, contaminated. Every flake abandoned me when air turned warm. Snow, the ultimate tease.

But today, that did not matter. I spread wide my arms and opened myself up, let the cool flakes fall on my warm tongue. This seesaw of sensation made every chill glorious.

I glanced down to where I stood, my feet atingle in twelve inches of powdery white.

But my neck was warm, toasted by a scarf.

“Thanks, Sadie . . . Oh, no.”

This was not a passing morning voice. My words rumbled husky and low. I cleared my throat and looked myself over. “Seriously?”

I peeked down at my jeans, unzipped my fly, winced, and took a peek.

“Whoa. That's just not right.”

“Is there a problem, young man?”

I whipped around, hands still clasped on my briefs. Officer Dewey and an unfamiliar cop frowned from inside their squad.

“You lose something?” Dewey chuckled. Totally a Basil thing to say.

“No. I, uh, I found something.”

Dewey nodded. “I certainly hope so. It's the spot I would have directed you to. It sure appeared as if you were on the way to dropping your drawers. You know there are some rules against that, son?”

I rezipped my pants and tucked in my shirt. “Yeah, I'm good. Just a little cold is all.”

Dewey opened his door and pushed out. I faced him eye to eye. A very cool feeling.

“No jacket.” He circled me one way and then the other. “Do you have someplace to go? Maybe a name, son?” Dewey paused and held out his hand. “I'd like to see some ID.”

“It's Shane, and I, uh, no to the ID part, but yeah to the someplace-to-go part.” I glanced around.
Where am I?

Here, I struck a bit of fortune. Yes, the road looked familiar, but there were no houses. Just snow-covered buildings and a small sign:
HOPE HOME FOR BOYS. OPEN DECEMBER 1
. The boys home had indeed opened its doors during my senior year. That's all my memory needed.

• • •

Our neighborhood had fought against Hope Home's construction. Consensus was the build would transport “troubled and violent youth” into the area. The Monster had, ironically, been one of the project's most vocal critics.

“The people of this fine community pay plenty in property taxes.” Jude waited for the mumbled agreement to hush, and he peered confidently around the City Council room. “We work hard to see that our standard of living remains unblemished.”

Unblemished. A nasty word—just a side note.

He continued, “We understand the plight of the boys. We feel their pain. And we feel it's in the best interest of everyone to let the boys run around elsewhere. Perhaps across town in a less-established neighborhood.”

I sat in the back of the council room. I loved the drama, but the sight of Jude made me gag.

“You'd rather see a pack of boys loose in the streets than monitored in a decent home with a curfew?” I called.

Heads turned, and neighbors murmured. Afterward, Councilman Harris told me my comment shifted the direction of debate. It also would end my life as I knew it, but foresight's never twenty-twenty.

The neighborhood lost. The home was built, completed before Christmas.

• • •

I stared, wide-eyed, at a waiting Officer Dewey. Mayday was five months away.

Basil and Mel were still my friends.

Crow was a living, breathing girl.

Adele was getting cozy with Will Kroft, the most infamous resident of Hope Home.

Do I ever have someplace to go!

I poked over my shoulder. “I'm heading in to apply at the new Hope residence. What do you think?” I stroked Sadie's gift. “Was the scarf a good interview choice?”

Dewey's partner spoke up. “Gloves and a coat might've served you better.”

Both officers slowly climbed back in the squad car. “Suggestion. Keep your hands off the fly. Makes a bad first impression.” Dewey slapped the outside of the car and pulled away.

I watched their squad car turn out of sight, lifted strong arms to the sky, and shouted. I pumped my fists and hollered again.

Is this primal thing what all guys feel?

I checked my hands, callused and worked. “What did you do, Shane? When you were living. What did you do?”

Good-looking guy. I bet he did it well.

“Okay, here it starts.” I trudged toward the Hope Home office and jammed my hands in my pockets. My right hand found the locket, my left a crinkled five-dollar bill.

I'm not thirteen anymore, Sadie. This isn't enough for a gum ball.

• • •

My psychology teacher once erupted on a gender rant. “Females and males are exactly the same. Same, same, same, except for body parts.” I had no information to counter the assertion—our biology dissection schedule didn't include boy and girl brains.

Yet I'd done a fair amount of thinking, and the idea struck me as wrong. Give a girl and guy the same parents. Feed them the same food. Discipline them equally and throw them into the same school. It didn't matter. The guy would end up, well, a guy. The reason for this aside you will now see.

I reached the main office and stepped inside. I stomped snow off my shoes and brushed off my jeans. Frozen feet screamed to prickly life. The office was warm and pleasant enough, with plush chairs, nice pictures, and a cute receptionist.

I blinked hard, and she smiled at me over the counter, gently biting her lip and twirling her hair.
That lip-biting thing does work.

Her gaze fastened to me, wandered up and down, and I peeked to make sure the fly was upped. Good there.

I straightened and swaggered up to her.

Dammit, Shane. You've got to be kidding.

She was pretty. Really pretty. I put her at twenty and wondered where she lived. If she lived there alone.

She's a girl, you stupid body!

“I'm looking for something to do.” I rested an elbow on the counter and flexed a bicep. Totally posing. I wanted to throw up.

She tongued the inside of her cheek (a squirrelly maneuver with no seductive effect), reached down, and raised a stack of papers to the counter. “I have an opening. New in town?”

“Back after a long absence.”

“What about a place to stay? Here could be good.”

I pulled the papers close to me. “I just need work. This is the application?”

“Yeah, it is. A cottage on site comes with the job, you know.”

I cleared my throat. “So I could live right here.”

“Alone,” she said, her lips curling. “Could be interesting, don't you think?”

“Family teacher assistant.” I read the job description. “I don't think this is for me.” I held up my palms. “I think I work with my hands. Repair or maintenance? Got anything like that?”

She reached over the counter and gently took hold of my hands, cradling them in her own. “Oh, I'll find something to do with these hands.”

Is this double entendre making you sick? To recount it now, yeah, it has a nauseating effect, but I tell you, then I was into it.

“The house needs the position filled soon.” She sat back down. “Mr. Loumans is desperate for some help. We opened early, and the kids are time intensive.”

A place to stay at Hope Home for Boys, a chance to keep an eye on Will, who by now had hooks in Addy? I grabbed a pen and attacked the paperwork.

Name
:
Shane Owen

Age:
I scanned myself and shrugged.
Eighteen

Education:
Central High School

Home Address:

Work Address:

References:

“These questions get tougher.” I muttered. “I can't do this.”

The girl stood and looked over my paper. “Those hands of yours will stay unemployed with an application like this. We need to make you even more, well, desirable.” She crossed out eighteen and wrote twenty-one.

“Let me handle you and your app.” She flipped over one of her cards. “Just give me a number where I can reach you.”

My gaze darted. “Well, that depends on when you're going to call. Could I just check back tomorrow?”

She set down her pen and cocked her head. “You're kind of a mystery.”

“You have no idea.”

Moments passed, and finally she raised her brows. “Okay, Shane Owen. Tomorrow it is. Wait, are you really still in school?”

“That depends on whether or not I land this job.”

“Love that.” She flipped over her card and slid it across the counter. “Keep my contact. In case something comes up, or if it doesn't.” She reclined in her roller chair. “Call my cell.”

“Right.” I grabbed the card and backed toward the door. My heel caught on the doormat and I stumbled, regained my footing, and offered an awkward grin.

That girl shook her head, breathed deep, and beamed from ear to ear. “Perfect.”

Tripping makes me perfect? Or my grin is perfect? What are you thinking?

I'm a guy. No wonder I'm suddenly clueless.

I pushed out and pocketed her information. Wind howled around me. The number on the card could well provide me a place for the night. But that seemed way wrong, at least to the Crow part of me.

Where to sleep . . .

“The Shack.”

I trudged toward the bus stop, replaying my stumble, wondering why two minutes with a no-name receptionist now captured my thoughts. But somewhere during the walk, my mind hopped off that track and I dug for my Abe Lincoln.

A fifty would have been much more thoughtful.

Here my mind cleared, focused. Sadie's warnings aside, there were things to undo by Mayday. A twisted chain of events must be broken. Unlike my first walkabout, the list of those involved was long. Yet, alter the course of a few lives, and links in that chain shattered.

Any links would do.

Busted links mean a prevented accident.

My mind replayed the causes of my demise, and the steps to my survival.

Given: Will had bragged about what he wanted to do to Addy on May 1, prom night.

Given: Only trusting Addy believed it was a rumor, forcing me to take action.

But.

1. If Adele doesn't date Will from Hope Home, Crow doesn't need to protect her from him.

2. If Crow doesn't need to protect her, she won't need to speed Will away from Addy on the night of the prom.

3. If she doesn't need to speed him away, she won't clip the train.

4. And Lifeless will never appear, and Crow won't vegetate, and she will have zero urge to flirt with female receptionists.

I peeked over my shoulder toward Hope Home, to where Monster Number 2 lived. Working with Will and keeping him far from Addy would truly be . . .

Perfect.

“I really need that job.”

The bus pulled up, and I stepped inside.

This would be a lot easier if I had some help. My plan was complicated; the number of people whose lives I needed to disrupt? Considerable. A stranger in my own past, I needed somebody I could trust, somebody with connections. A confidant, a smooth operator to lend a hand.

Only one person had access to all the players in this drama.

I knew just where to find him.