It was a picture of Sara, laughing at the camera as her body jutted in one direction and her hair in the other, dancing at The Factory. Her smile seemed to transcend the boundaries of the frame, spreading far beyond the paltry limitations offered by the eight-by-ten cage. It came out and took a light all of its own, so good and full of life.
The candle beneath next to her picture flared up, almost touching his palm and making him flex back. The sensation was gone instantly, the image instantly becoming just another picture among the dozens lined up in the gym. Each had their own candle and their own space on the table for friends and loved ones to leave poems, cards, flowers and whatever else they wanted.
“Hard to believe,” came a voice from his side, sweet and soft.
He turned toward Cathy, having almost forgotten she was there while in the trance of the picture. “What is?”
She laid a folded white letter next to Sara’s photo, her name scribbled into it in purple ink. She stared at the image for a long moment just as he had, then turned back to him, brushing her hair back behind her shoulders. “Everything.”
He paused, nodding as he took her hand in his own, gently guiding her away from the photo as more people started to come close.
“Xander should be here,” she said suddenly, letting out a small sigh.
“No. He shouldn’t,” Mike replied, casting his gaze over the more than forty framed photos mounted around the room. His eyes landed finally on Tommy, walking from the other side of the room with Sud close in tow. He stopped dead in his tracks, followed by Cathy a moment later.
“What?” she said, almost tripping. She followed his glare to Tommy, coming down upon them with that gangly, determined strut of his. “Oh, no.”
“Hey, you guys all right?” came a high-pitched voice from behind them.
Cathy jumped a little, her heart racing before she turned and took a sigh of relief. “We’re fine, Derek.”
“Yeah,” Mike swallowed, keeping one eye trained on Tommy as he greeted his friend. “Just trying to avoid some trouble. Know what I mean?”
Derek laughed, leaning forward and clapping Mike on the back heartily. “I can honestly say I don’t, friend.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN:
AN ENDING
“Hey,” Tommy grunted, spinning Mike around by the shoulder until their noses were only inches apart. “We need to talk.”
Mike scoffed, gritting his teeth as he looked Tommy up and down, paying close attention to how the boy’s fingers twitched over his right jeans pocket. “I’m not in the mood, Tommy,” he said, starting to turn away again.
“Don’t you turn away from me!” Tommy snarled, grabbing Mike by the wrist and twisting.
“Get off him, Tom!” Cathy cried as she pushed the taller man against the shoulder, making him step to one side.
Derek stepped forward, hitting Tommy’s hand away.
Tommy backed up a pace, checking over his shoulder to make sure Sud was still behind him. “What the fuck’s your problem, Smith? Why you gotta get involved in this?”
“My Pop used to say things about men like you out on the farm,” Derek smirked, chuckling a little to himself. “‘Bad stock of corn’s not even worth trouble’a harvesting.’”
Tommy frowned, his shoulders falling slightly.
Derek nodded, turning back toward Mike and Cathy.
They stared at him with ghostly white faces, Mike stepping out in front of Cathy but otherwise staying perfectly still.
Derek looked at them for a long moment, clicking his tongue against the back of his teeth. “Gramp’s not really a farmer,” he admitted after a moment, smiling.
Mike tried to bring his hand up. He imagined plowing it into Derek, the boy’s skull collapsing under the force of his fist... but for the life of him, he couldn’t even summon the strength to make his fingers twitch. Cathy quivered and shook, her legs turning into rubber rods that were barely able to hold her weight. A quiet, hushing sound came from her lips every few moments and someone would have had to have their ear right next to her ruby lips to have recognized it as the world’s quietest scream.
“Would it help if I said I was sorry?” Derek laughed, slowly moving his hand into his pocket.
“How could you?” Mike said after a moment, finally finding his voice. “Why would you?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Tommy huffed, stepping forward to come between them again.
“Probably this,” Derek piped, swiping his blade clean across the back of Tommy’s head.
Tommy fell forward as Mike and Cathy backed up quickly to get out of the way, the back of his head streaming blood as his nose hit the concrete floor of the gym and produced still more of it. The crowd let out one scream after another as a circle parted itself around the five of them, all eyes glued on the knife that now spun lightly between Derek’s fingers, reflecting the glimmering light of the candles and sending it off in different directions.
The color returned to Mike’s face slowly as Tommy groaned, trying half-heartedly to get up.
“How can I?” Derek smirked, bringing the knife around and pointing it at Mike. “How can I? How can I not? This town’s been begging for it for years. Every time anything bad happens, you all gobble it up like pigs. Newspapers and terrorists and horror novels and video games... how ‘bout a little good news? How ‘bout, someone finally gives these people,” he paused, waving the knife at the crowd. “What they really deserve?”
“You killed them? All of them?” Cathy gasped, her eyes fluttering briefly
