Kevinexhaled slowly and waited for his heart rate to slow down before falling ontoall fours and pushing his way inside the doghouse. He crawled to the back, satwith his legs crossed beneath him, picked up the airplane and wept. He clutchedit tight against his chest and sobbed as all the years of guilt overtook him atonce. Kevin hitched and gasped for breath as he thought of his friend’slifeless body on the ground, and the way he’d jumped the fence and ran back tohis own house screaming for help, waiting to feel Butch’s fangs sink into theback of his legs and then rip him apart as well. He remembered the penetratinganger in old man Grady’s face when they removed Reggie’s body from hisbackyard, and the absolute hatred in his eyes when they took Butch away to puthim down. Kevin remembered everything.
“I’msorry, Reggie,” he whispered, gazing down at the foam glider throughtear-blurred eyes. “It was all my fault. I didn’t know the rope wasgoing to break. I don’t care about the goddamn plane. I wish I could have youback again. I’m sorry I let this happen.”
Hewrapped his left arm tighter around the plane, and with his right arm he triedto scoot back to the entrance of the doghouse, and then stopped when he saw theghost blocking the doorway. The thing with no face had trapped him, and besideit was the ghost of Butch, who had planted his haunches hard onto the ground asif ready to attack. Reggie’s face was missing, but the expression on the mauledand mottled specter still managed to exude terrible satisfaction. The slitwhere its mouth had once been slit open and the thing with no face shrieked invengeance.
Kevinclosed his eyes and waited for Butch to unite them forever.
Lost Boy
Bracken MacLeod
Outon the wastes of the Never Never—
That's where the dead men lie!
Therewhere the heat-waves dance for ever—
That's where the dead men lie!
That'swhere the Earth's loved sons are keeping
Endlesstryst: not the west wind sweeping
Feverishpinions can wake their sleeping—
Out where the dead men lie!
—BarcroftBoake, WHERE THE DEAD MEN LIE
Samtried to pay attention to his date, but the child at the other end of therestaurant wouldn’t stop staring at him. He looked at his plate, at his hands,at the tables to his left and right—anywhere but at the woman sitting acrossfrom him, because the gaze of the boy over her shoulder was relentless andunnerving.
Shefurrowed her brow and said, “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”
Heheld up his hands in protest. “I have. Really. You were telling me about yourco-worker who strapped their ‘Fatbit’ to a ceiling fan to win a step challenge.It’s funny.” He was listening. Joye was interesting. She was smart andwitty, told good stories, liked jazz and thrillers, and looked absolutelynothing like his wife.
“Whatthen? What is it?”
Helooked up from his hands, leaning slightly to the right to angle her head inbetween him and the inerrant gaze of the child. “It’s… nothing. I’m just…It’s…” He shook his head. “It’s me. I’m sorry. This is my first date in areally long time—like a decade. I’m rusty, I guess.”
Hecould almost see the red flag snake up the pole in her mind and flutter in thebreeze of her building judgments. Her eyes darted to his left hand resting onthe tabletop. He resisted the urge to pull it back and set it in his lap. Hedidn’t have a tan line, but when he looked, there was still a slightindentation where he used to wear his ring.
“Yourprofile doesn’t say you’re divorced.”
“I’mnot.”
“Butyou’re not married, right? Right?” She smiled, but it was unconvincing.Behind her eyes, he could see she was thinking of ways to end things early. Shetook a big drink of her wine, and set the glass on the table a little tooforcefully. The stem didn’t break, but a little of her pinot gris splashed upover the side of her glass and slipped down the side. In a few seconds, she’dpolish the rest of it off, and that would be the end of their date.
“Notanymore,” he said.
Shewiped at her mouth and folded her napkin, getting ready to push back her seat.“My profile very clearly says, no divorcées. I’m not interested in someone with—”
“I’mnot. Divorced. My wife… she died a year ago.” He looked around at the tablesnearest them. No one was looking at them, but it felt like the words he spokehad resonated through the restaurant, echoing off the walls and wine glasses.Saying those words always seemed louder than anything else he ever uttered,even when he whispered them. He felt like he was sitting at the epicenter of asonic boom and everyone was staring. But no one was. No one but the kid in theback. Still staring.
Hewanted to hold up a hand to encourage her not to leave, but instead kept themflat on the table so she wouldn’t see them shaking. He explained, “There wasn’ta box to check for ‘widower’. It seems like it should be a thing, you know, butI guess there aren’t too many of us on 30 and Flirty dot com. I’msorry.”
Heraised his arm to signal for the check. She reached out and pushed it back downto the tabletop, leaving her hand on the back of his. Her skin was dry andcool. She had thin fingers that didn’t get enough circulation, no matter whatshe did. He didn’t know that for sure about Joye. That was his wife, Liv’sexplanation. But, making the association felt good. Joye looked nothing likeLiv, but deep down, he kind of wished she did. When he’d filled out the onlinequestionnaire, he’d put in preferences that were opposite of the ones belongingto the person he’d married so long ago. As it turned out, a complete oppositewas as much a reminder of her as someone with a resemblance.
Heenjoyed the familiar sensation of her touch. It had been a while since anyonetouched him and let it linger. Still, as welcome as her touch was, it made himfeel that ever familiar tinge of loss that had been in him since Liv’s lastdays.
Maybehe
