Velvet Rain - A Dark Thriller (47 page)

“He blamed himself,” Kain said. “He was on the road when Mom died. For years, I blamed him, too.”

He stoked the small campfire.

“It kept me alive,” he told her. “When they took me … all I could do was cling to the hope that someday I could find that picture. I don’t know why. I guess it was all I had left. When I finally worked my way back to Newark, I was so afraid. That maybe the house was sold. Even if it wasn’t, what were the odds it would still be inside? But it was. It was.”

He sniffled. He could still see his mother, broken and screaming, unable to even claw at the glass as the car slipped deeper into the cold of the river. Into the blackness. The
nothingness.

“No one heard her,” he whispered, his voice on the verge of breaking. “No one heard her screams.”

“Kain …”

“I heard them. I still hear them.”

~

He sat ever so still. The screams eventually slipped away, drowning in the dreariness of the rains.

“Do you remember what the old man told me? About when I Turn?”

“He told you not to—” She stopped herself. “You didn’t. You
did.
”

He swallowed something cold and raw. “I saw her die.”

~

“I don’t understand,” she said. “How? I mean,
when?
”

“Do you remember your dream? The one where Ryan killed Mortimer?”

“Like it was yesterday.”

“It wasn’t really a dream, Lynn.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t Mortimer.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying your memories were just messed up. What you dreamt … what you saw … it was Costello.”

“Costello? But … but that’s not—”

Lynn Bishop stopped herself. Something stirred in her mind. Something dark.

“I remember,” she said, the words barely there. “Oh my God, Kain. I
remember.
”

~

Gramps had a name for it: he called it the Coming.

“Are you saying … I saw the future?”

“It is possible,” he said, hesitantly. “But only a few with the Sense can.
Very
few. It rarely happens, of course. And even when it does, you may not realize it at the time—the mind can play a lot of tricks on you in a Turn, believe me. The thing is, the Coming could surface later, like any other memory.”

“Like in a dream.”

“Yes.”

“And you? You can do this, too? I mean, with your mother—you had a dream?”

He didn’t answer. But it was all over his face.

“You looked on purpose?” she said. “Why? Why would you do that?”

“I was young,” he said. “Young, and way too curious.”

“Ohhh, Kain.”

“Gramps thought I was afraid of the dark,” he said. “In a way, he was right. All you see is darkness.”

She held his hand.

“Night after night I kept having bad dreams. Horrible dreams. He’d come, and every time he’d stub his toe on the end of the bed. Just to make me laugh. He’d wrap his arm around me and tell me everything would be all right. I don’t think I’d ever been so scared. He’d go to the closet and pull it open. You know, to show me there was nothing there. I never told him what was wrong. I never told him I looked. I couldn’t.”

“But Kain … that was over twenty
years
before it happened. Is that even possible?”

“Time isn’t linear,” he told her, and he could see she did not understand. “A clock … it’s just something we use to keep track of it. Something the human mind can grasp. In reality, it can’t really be measured. It follows its own rules.”

“Time flies?”

“Exactly,” he said. “And sometimes it stands still.”

“Like when you’re waiting in line.”

“Yes. But it’s much more.” He spread his arms out. “Imagine your whole life is like a movie. Every frame laid out in front of you on this big wall. You can see it all at once, or zero in on a single frame. Like a photo album. You can flip back if you want. Or look forward.”

“But I thought—”

“No,” he said. “I can’t
go
forward. I said,
‘look’.
”

“But your grandfather … he said the future hasn’t happened yet,” she said, sounding utterly confused. “You … me … we can really see it?”

“A version of it. A
possible
outcome. It doesn’t mean it’s carved in stone.”

“Beakers,” she said, after some consideration. “I guess it isn’t.”

“I should have warned her, Lynn. I should have, but I didn’t.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said. “You couldn’t have known it would happen. And what would you have said? She would have never believed a word.”

“I shouldn’t have listened to him,” he said, the mantra growing in his mind like a tumor.

It’s not our place … it’s not our world.

“That god damn bird,” he said.

“Kain … you have to stop this.”

“
Why?
Why do I have to?”

He had raised his voice; it had frightened her.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

“The old man made me a secret,” he said. “He made me a ghost. And my mother died because of me.”

~ 24

For a moment, he slipped into that black abyss of what was, the horror stirring in his mind. Even now, years later, the memories felt as real as the terrors from a nightmare. As close.

“I tried to go back,” he said. “Before the accident.”

“What? Can you do that? That far?”

He turned to her. Stumbled to find the words. “It was hell on Earth,” he confessed, saying it in that same devouring tone he had used when he had said it to her son. “Like
The War of the Worlds
or something.”

He went on.

“The Turn … it’s like ripples in a pond,” he said. “Drop a small stone, you get small ripples. If I go back, say, maybe thirty seconds or so—time reverses in a very small area around me. Maybe a few hundred feet.”

“Like a bubble.”

“Yes. Exactly. But everything
outside
that bubble keeps going as it was. Clocks. Watches. Everything. Now—if I drop a big stone—if I Turn way back—the ripples in the pond are much stronger. And last a lot longer.”

“And reach a lot farther,” she said. “My God, Kain.”

“I didn’t just take
me
back a week,” he said. “I took the entire city—and a wide area beyond it, with me.”

“How is that possible?”

“At first—” He hesitated, uncertain of how to proceed. “Everything seemed normal. It was the day of the accident. I had about two hours. Like I said, things seemed normal. But I knew pretty quickly that I’d Turned too far.”

“People on the outside knew. People outside the bubble.”

He nodded. “After a few days, it was all over the radio. In the papers. How the city of Newark had slipped back in time.”

“I remember that! We all thought it was some kind of joke. A publicity stunt. But after a while we knew that something had gone on there. Something
wrong.
It was awful.”

“Local papers were a week behind,” he said. “And the local radio stations.”

“Wait a minute, Kain …”

“The clipping,” he said. He held it up in the flickering firelight.

“That … that shouldn’t exist.”

“Normally it wouldn’t,” he told her. “It was in my pocket when I Turned.”

Lynn considered. “It was outside the bubble.
You’re
outside the bubble.”

“Outside the
storm,
” he said. “In a way, it’s like I’m in the eye of a hurricane. Anything on me—my clothes, my shoes—
this
—they’re protected somehow. I don’t know why. It’s odd, though—I could rip my shirt, and it would still be ripped afterward. But if I cut myself? It heals. Anything changed with
me
goes back the way it was.”

Again she considered. “But sometimes you get side effects? Like we do?”

“I do,” he said. “Sometimes I get nauseous. Sunburned.”

Lynn struggled in her mind. It was all over her face.

“But other things—other people—they just go back to where they were? I don’t … I don’t see how that’s possible. It’s just not possible.”

He gave her a glance that told her. It
was.

~

“There was this banker,” he said. “A real straight arrow. Brentwood Thompson. Yeah. I know. I stink at coming up with fake names.

“Thompson had just gotten a big promotion. The day after the accident, actually. Apparently, he moved into his new office, spent the week having it redecorated. The next thing he knows, he’s back at his old desk two floors down, getting reamed by his old boss—his old boss who had died the week before.”

From her calm reaction, he could see that Lynn was beginning to take this in stride. The Turn. Death. Resurrection. Soon she’d believe that he
was
from Mars. Or snap.

“It was bad, Lynn.”

Her eyes widened. “Thompson has the Sense.”

“Stronger than most. He went public. Called every paper. Every radio station. Anyone who would listen. He knew. Knew so much he ended up lighting himself on fire at City Hall.”

“My God. I can’t imagine what he went through. But … yes … I guess I can.”

“Some feared the world was coming to an end,” Kain said. “There were riots. Looting. People hoarding food. Money. Whatever they could get their hands on. State troopers were called in. The
military.
”

“Brikker,” Lynn whispered.

“He was there,” Kain said. “I didn’t know it at the time, of course. But he was.”

“Did he know you were there? I mean, how would he?”

“No. He didn’t know who I was. But of course, he knew of the others. They were captured long before I was. And when this happened … well … it was just a matter of time.”

He chuckled nervously.

“That’s not funny,” she said.

~

Lynn had asked, and his gaze fell; the glow from the fire aged him.

“It’s like a nightmare that won’t end, Lynn.”

“What happened.”

“I called her,” he said. “I had an apartment outside the city. I told her I wanted to see her and that I’d be there soon. I found a note on her door saying she’d be back in a few minutes.”

“Oh, no.”

“Do you see? She never left a note the first time,” he said. “I didn’t call before. Already things were changing. I’d Turned so far that the world was unfolding a lot differently.”

“But not completely,” she said. “She still went out.”

“I drove as fast as I could.”

“Kain?”

He regarded her with the saddest eyes. “Even the weather stayed clear.”

“… You were too late.”

“Not late enough,” he said.

~

She died in his arms. The traffic had been thick and erratic, and the truck he’d been following had rambled onto the bridge, wavering over the center line. It nearly struck her head on, but she managed to swerve out of harm’s way, only to strike the guardrail. He had watched in horror as her body exploded from the windshield. The long fall to the river had broken her body, but God, the sick bastard, had kept her alive, long enough for him to make his way down and onto the ice. Long enough for him to hold her, long enough to watch the life drain from her eyes.

Impossible as it was, sitting here on the knoll under the stars, he could still feel her warmth; could still see her now. Could still see those eyes, those beautiful gems of blue.

In his mind, he kissed her, gently on the forehead.

She looked up at him one last time.

“My little dreamer,” she said. And that was all.

~

“The old man knew,” he said. “He never told me—he couldn’t—but he knew. He saw her death, just like I did. He tried to warn me … I just wouldn’t listen. In the end, I would have given anything to have those ten seconds back.”

She regarded him despondently.

“I couldn’t save her,” he said. “That first Turn nearly killed me. I tried. God I tried. But my mind—it just shut down.”

Lynn lowered her head.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “My father.”

She nodded.

“I didn’t see him after the funeral,” he told her. “I went back to my job. They found him a few days later.”

“You didn’t try to stop him?”

“I couldn’t, Lynn. I’d done enough damage. Gramps was right.”

“And Newark?”

“Once order was restored, what else could people do? They had no choice but to move forward.”

She took his hand and squeezed it gently.

“And so should you.”

~

The headache struck hard and without warning. She had to grab hold of him to keep him from falling over.

“I’m okay,” he said, weakly. “Okay.”

Lynn was in a panic.

“What is it?” he asked.

“You blacked out. You were out for a good minute.”

“
What?
But I—”

~

“I’m okay,” he said. “I’m all right.”

Lynn was in a panic.

“Lynn?”

“You blacked out, Kain.”

His eyes narrowed. “Wait … I … I saw—”

“It happened again,” she said. “The hiccup.”

Dizzied, he struggled to remember; it came to him.

He saw—

~

She put out the fire, and then led him by the hand as they made their way back. In the darkness, the going had been slow, and he doubled once, nearly lost his footing. She got him some water and brought it to him as he lay on his bed. She took up a chair beside him.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said. “It’s late.”

“You’re burning up,” she said, drawing her hand from his forehead.

He sipped some water. That hammer was still pounding on his brain.

“Back there,” she said. “When it happened … did you look?”

Kain shook his head. “I don’t know
what
happened.”

“But you saw something.”

“I don’t know how, I don’t know why … but I didn’t look, Lynn. It just … Jesus … am I losing my mind?”

“Tell me what you saw.”

“… I can’t. I’m sorry … but I won’t.”

“I guess I really
don’t
want to know. Do I.”

“No.” He closed his eyes a moment. Rubbed his temples.

“How did you get them?” she asked softly. “The scars.”

He didn’t answer. Not right away.