WISHBONE (35 page)

In the barn, he flipped the light switch illuminating the building with an incandescent glow. He glanced around fearfully of Jérome. He rushed up the ladder and found the files of information he had hidden. He would show it all to Rachael tonight. For better or for worse, he was not leaving his wife behind and if they were to be the next victims of Arlette’s terrorism, he refused to go out without a fight.

Julien shut the lights behind him and found his way back to the house. He could hear Rachael washing dishes in the kitchen. With the serving platter remaining on the dining room table he assumed she had yet to notice the missing bone. He quietly slipped up the staircase.

Rachael returned to the dining room to clear what remained. She piled the last plate with flatware and picked up the platter with the scattered chicken bones. As she returned to the kitchen her eyes scanned the plate. The wishbone was gone. She stopped at the counter and put everything down. She tossed the bones from side to side searching madly, but it was not there. She looked out into the darkness then toward the barn. The structure was dark; she hadn’t noticed Julien return…
where is he?
She backed up slowly.
The baby!
Turning on a dime she collided with Julien standing directly behind her. He held a folder at his side tucked beneath his arm, the wishbone in his hand, and Jessica sleeping peacefully against his shoulder.

“Sit down, Rachael,” he said calmly. “We need to talk.”

Rachael’s mind raced.
What could he actually do? What had he planned with Sarah?
She moved blindly to the side and slipped into a chair at the kitchen table, both cautious and obedient.

She rambled nervously, “Okay Julien, can’t we…”

Julien tossed the folder onto the table interrupting her. She caught it from sliding off the other side and he continued, “I need for you to hear me out, but first… I want you to read.”

Rachael opened the folder but seemed to be keeping one eye on her husband and daughter.

“You can’t make a wish without me.” she challenged. “Every time I think I should trust you…why Jules? We
can
have our cake and eat it too. Don’t you see?”

“Read it.” He twirled the bone between his fingers.

“You can’t wish without me.” she repeated calmly.

“Believe me.” he said. He wouldn’t lie to her, but forcing her to question what she thought she knew was not beyond his moral code.

Rachael knew anything was possible in this game and feared pushing him too far. After all, only Sarah knew for sure how those bones worked.

She sighed, “What? What am I reading?” She skimmed the pages with her eyes. Name after name, nothing was familiar, until she realized each of those names were listed as occupants of their current address. 

“What is this?” she asked. Frustrated and incapable of consentrating, she shoved the folder toward him; she wanted Jessica back in her arms

“We do not own this house. Those are all previous tenants of the property. They are all dead or missing.” He laid it out for her as fast and accurately as possible.

Rachael snatched the folder back and opened it again. She read the information more diligently this time, turning each of the pages and taking a moment to actually absorb a line or two here and there. The last page showed Arlette Vandermark as the current and long standing owner of the property. Rachael looked up at Julien. She laughed, but he could see the confusion and insecurity in her eyes.

“This is impossible,” she uttered. She wanted to believe her own statement, but for the first time in months, she believed Julien. She knew him well enough to know he had done his homework and was not creating a sensational story to draw her over to his side. She struggled with her greed, longing to find a solution that would allow them to stay on the property and continue to have their wishes granted.

“We could make a wish. We could,” she paused, “we could turn it on them.” Her eyes grew bright again, her voice animated, “Sarah adores you. She would do anything—”

“Rachael,” he cut in. The baby stirred in his arms and he lowered his voice. “We are going to die here.”

Rachael’s lip quivered. “I don’t want to leave. I can’t.” She shook her head, forlorn.  “I can’t go back to that.”  Her eyes fell upon the baby.

Julien walked around the table and as if an offering, he handed Jessica to his wife. He knelt down and looked into Rachael’s eyes. “Do you trust me?”

With tears rolling down her cheeks she nodded.

“I can get tickets and we can leave for Paris tomorrow.” he offered. 

Rachael wiped at her face with her sleeve. “What if she just wishes us back? What…what makes you think it’s that easy?”

“I don’t think Arlette will be sorry to see us go. I think they will sway Sarah back into their control tonight and try to keep her away from us. I don’t have any other solutions. We can try, no?”

Rachael shrugged. There was no other solution but to try to runaway. If what he was saying was true, the wishes would be ending soon anyway; as would their lives. Staying would be pointless. She had seen Sarah in action tonight and knew it would be only a matter of time before that power was turned on them. Watching Julien dying in the grass, she had felt the confusion and guilt, and now her mind was clearing. No inner turmoil, no tug-of-war between greed and conscience, she knew he was right and that they were in trouble. 

Julien leaned forward and kissed the top of her head as he got to his feet. “I will figure the rest out by morning. I need some time to think.”

He took his wife’s hand and led her up to their bedroom. As the baby slept between them, they lay facing one another; Rachael drifted off while Julien hashed out a plan. He wondered if she had been right in that Sarah would find a way to keep them there. Eventually his eyes grew heavy and he too gave into sleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

So cold.

Julien lay shivering in bed, his body trembling beneath the blankets. He reached out for Rachael, wanting to pull her closer for warmth. She wasn’t there. Suddenly he realized his pillow was wet, saturated; he tried to turn away. Pain coursed through him, a sensation like a drill shredding through the bones of his leg.

No…

His eyes shot open and he slapped his hands to the top of the headboard for leverage.

No, no, no…

He struggled to sit up, groaning through gritted teeth, but Sarah pushed him back down. 

Julien froze, unsure of what would come next. Sarah hummed softly as she dabbed at his face with a damp cloth. He tried to push her hand away, but he couldn’t find the strength. She narrowed her eyes and he felt the pain intensify. He dropped back and attempted to yell for Rachael, but he couldn’t find it in him to power his voice, which allowed for no more than a weakened, graveled whisper. The sheet blanketing him from the waist down took the shape of the horrific device he once again adorned.

He turned his upper body away from the girl. If he could have crawled away, he would have. Sarah rubbed the small of his back and he lay there ignoring her, devastated and as angry as he was dejected. He remembered the night prior and his conversation with Rachael, so they couldn’t have gone back in time.

Rachael? 

We had a plan.

Why would she do this?

“Sarah.” He tried to look back over his shoulder, but every move he made caused the room to spin. “Please, it doesn’t have to be this way. What did Rachael tell you? We will take you with us.” He needed to face her and look into her eyes.

Sarah, her anger so flippantly turned on and off, helped him move onto his back. She would remain gentle and attentive as long as he would cooperate. Julien felt his eyes growing heavy, wanting to close again. He tried to stay awake, to make sense of his situation, but his thoughts were muddy and hard to keep focused. They had not only wished him back into the device, but also somehow rekindled the festering infection, which had coursed through his system the day he woke on the sofa.

Why?

What is the point, Rachael? 

“I know you don’t understand this,” he said with immense effort. “They are going to take us away from you, Sarah. It is not mattering… I am either going to die or they will kill us.”

He looked for subtle signs of comprehension, but Sarah only hummed and fussed with the blankets tucking him in neatly.

“I never meant for you to feel like I did not want you here. I didn’t mean to insinuate that you were no longer needed.”

She looked around for anything she could use to continue interacting with him. She took a cup of water from the nightstand and brought it to his lips. Dehydrated, he took one sip and then another.

Sweat pooled at his sternum. “Where is Rachael?” he asked. His breathing was labored and he gasped for air between gulps of cold water and words.

Sarah finally met his glassy eyes with her own empty gaze. She furrowed her brow displeased by his question.

“What, Sarah? What did she do? Did she make you do this to me? You don’t want to do this to me again, do you?”

Her posture sank and he saw a glimmer of guilt in her eyes. She moved away from him, sliding along the edge of the bed. She looked down at the blankets then tossed the sheet off his leg. Julien cringed and looked away. Whatever they had done to him was so much worse than before. His flesh, bloated and discolored, was oozing blood-tinged fluid from necrotic wounds surrounding the screws.

I’m going to die. 

There is no way out of this nightmare.

This time, I am going to die.

Sarah gathered her supplies from a tray resting on the floor beside the bed. He couldn’t watch her as she methodically washed away the infected discharge seeping from the limb. He could feel his gangrenous skin tearing and falling away as she worked. He knew this was not the time to upset her and he struggled to suck up the pain and remain stoic for as long as he could. 

Sarah finally completed her task, changing contaminated pillowcases and returning his leg to a resting position. Freezing, his body was shaking so violently, he had to place a hand on his thigh to keep the device from vibrating against the bed.

“Your father, is he coming?” he asked throough wheezing breaths. “The injections, Sarah? Is your father coming to see me like last time?” 

He had no way of knowing if Sarah was responding as his eyes refused to stay open. Sarah patted at his cheek rapidly with an open palm as if to wake him.

His eyes shot open and he snapped at her, “P’tain! Sarah, knock it off.” He broke into an rattling cough; droplets of blood sprayed the sheets.

She folded her arms in a huff.

He panicked and toned down quickly. “Okay, I’m sorry. Don’t be mad. But you can’t do that,” he said. “I want to sleep. I need to sleep.” 

Sarah’s expression softened and she pulled the blankets up over his arms, tuck him in. She leapt over him, bouncing on the bed and further testing his tolerance.

“I need to talk with Rachael. Please get Rachael for me,” he instructed in a monotone pleading mumble. Sarah snuggled up close to him pressing her body against his. He lifted his head and tried to scan the room for the pair of crutches, but his vision was blurred by thousands of tiny black specks dancing in the air; animated illusions he knew were not really there.

I am dying.

“Pills, Sarah. Where are the pills?” his voice was  almost inaudibly now.

The room faded.

* * * *

Julien was awoken by his own voice rambling incoherently in French. He had managed to pull the blankets off his over-heating body and was lying in the darkness on saturated sheets. He could feel small streams of sweat drizzling down his sides. The room began to spin and the brief moment of lucidity dissipated. He lashed out, swatting at imaginary hands grabbing for him. His father knelt beside the bed and Julien, preparing to be struck, covered his face with his crossed arms. Jérome only cupped a hand beneath Julien’s chin, encouraging his son to look at him. He kissed his right cheek and then his left; a soft grin spreading across his worn face.

Julien felt peace wash over him. He opened his eyes and Jérome was gone. He became suddenly aware of the delayed thumping that echoed within his chest rattling his torso with each awkward beat of his failing heart.

I’m dying.

Get up. 

Get the fuck up!

In the darkness, he groped for the headboard, needing leverage to turn; his leg dropped from the pillows onto the mattress and he whimpered; so close to crumbling beneath the burden of his suffering. He grabbed for the nightstand, sending everything on top crashing to the floor. He pulled himself over, vertigo drawing him to one side. He struggled to grip the nightstand and keep from toppling over. He opened the drawer and felt around in the darkness until he found the large amber bottle of pills. He managed to open the cap, but his equilibrium was so distorted he couldn’t tell up from down and hugged the nightstand for dear life. He consumed three of the large capsules dry then laid there. His cheek pressed to the cool varnished wood feeling the room spin at top speed. He called out for Rachael with every ounce of strength he could muster, but there was no response. He listened to himself whimpering like a child but was so dehydrated, not a tear would form.

He gave one more weak-hearted attempt. “Rach?” He lost his grip on the table and fell forward, crashing to the ground on one shoulder.

* * * *

It was still dark beyond the bedroom windows, though the room was bathed in a bright light. Sarah darted around him. He couldn’t see her, but sensed her moving about the room. She crawled toward him. He heard water slosh then splat against the wood floor beside his ear. She unbuttoned his shirt humming softly.

Is this the same day?

I’m not in the bed.

“Please Sarah, I’m very sick.” He took a deep breath and felt fire in his flooded lungs. He broke into a hacking cough spewing more droplets of blood. Words came slowly; his endurance tested beyond anything he could ever have imagined even in his darkest nightmares. “Please…I need help,” he said.  “Rachael! Where is Rachael?” He tried to assume a tone of dominance. His cooperation was not helping him and an attempt to intimidate her couldn’t possibly leave him in any worse condition; death would be a relief.