Dead Roots (The Analyst) (27 page)

“I thought you died, man. I thought you
died.
”

“
I
thought I died,” Tom added dumbly. Artie swung Tom's arm around his own shoulder to help him walk. Tom indulged himself, leaning against Artie and plodding along the bank with him.

“Where's that ambulance?” Artie demanded of Heather as she approached.

“I'm actually fine,” Tom said. “Don't... don't worry. Look. I'm fine.”

“The hell you are,” Heather said, her voice trembling. She shined her flashlight in his face. “You look like hell. Your eye is the size of a tennis ball.”

“
Uhhh.
I was wondering why I couldn't see out of that one.”

“We need to get back to the car,” Keda said simply. “The sooner we get away from these woods, the better.”

“You fucking said it,” Heather agreed. “Come on, there's a long way around. No way in Hell am I going back in those woods.”

Tom kept a brisk pace with the others. His head swam with all kinds of questions, none of which he had the fortitude to contemplate. He was content listening to the running of the river and the footsteps against the bank as the four of them made their way around the forest.

Some half a mile down the bank, Tom felt his phone vibrate. He reached into his pocket and lit up the screen. Five messages from Margaret.

Tom please. Are you ok?

He only answered the latest one.

Fine. Call you in the morning

9

“Roots”

Heather's place was a two-story cabin a couple of miles from the hotel.  The squad car pulled up in her driveway and hummed to a stop. Tom had insisted they not go to the hospital forty miles out of town. Heather had determined that a couple of home-administered stitches and some ice would clear his face up, and the rest of him seemed otherwise untouched. Artie had called it nothing short of miraculous.

With the events of the evening, Heather had not been comfortable sending the men back to the hotel. That,
Tom had mused, or she wasn't comfortable going back into town herself. After hearing the story, he didn't blame her. Things were coming to a head, and it had become clear to Tom that he was not leaving this case, Margaret's orders or not.

“Take your shoes off inside,” Heather said simply. “I've got beer and a phone if y'all need to get in touch with your boss.”

“We appreciate it very much,” Keda said with a smile.

Heather nodded. “I'm sleeping upstairs, so that one of you shitheads dies first if the whole station comes knocking in the middle of the night.”

“Seems fair,” Tom said with a sardonic chuckle. He cast a cursory glance down the path leading back to the main road before following Heather and the others inside. “What's the policy on smoking in the house?”

Heather fumbled with her house keys. “I have been through entirely too much bullshit tonight to give a rat's ass where you smoke,” she said with a groan. She pushed the door open and flicked on the light. “Share them with me and you can light them on the stove and smoke them out of your assholes for all I care.”

“I would completely do that if I could,” Tom jibed.

“You gotta buy your own pack tomorrow,” Artie said with a guffaw.

“Fuck you, I quit smoking.”

Tom's ears perked up. He heard a scuffling coming from inside. He was on his guard in an instant, fingers playing at the handle of his pistol.

“Aloysius,” Heather cooed. Tom relaxed. Of course; she’d mentioned she had a dog.

“Alo-- oh my God.” Artie barely contained his sniggering.

“
Al-o-ish-usssss,
” Heather drawled affectionately. “Come here, my baby,” Heather fawned, leaning down as a large chocolate Labrador came bounding up to the doorway. It made as if to leap on her, but then took notice of her company, and started barking frantically.

“Shut up, stupid,” Heather shouted over the din. Aloysius whined loudly and continued to bark. Heather bent down to one knee and gripped her pooch’s head with both hands. She pulled the dog's face forward to kiss him. “Shut up, stupid,” she cooed. “So stupid. Why you gotta be so stupid?”

“It's love,” Tom chuckled, as he stepped past Heather and her dog into the living room. There was a staircase just to his right, an open door leading off into a dark room that he presumed was a kitchen, and another one which was closed. A flat screen TV hung on the wall to the left, and what looked like a couple of the most comfortable couches ever made sat to his right.

“Cozy,” Artie said appreciatively. “Reminds me of my old place.”

“Spare room and bathroom's over there, kitchen's there, I'm up there,” Heather said wearily. “Beer's in the fridge. Make yourselves at home while I get changed.”

“Thanks again, Officer,” Tom called to her as she ascended the stairs. She waved her hand dismissively. Tom took an eyeful of her behind as she went. Aloysius bounded after her, his paws thumping heavily on the stairs.

“Picture'll last longer,” Artie snorted. He slumped down onto one of the couches and lit a cigarette. “Get me something to ash in, would you?”

“I almost died,” Tom said indignantly.

“Yeah, you're right. Keda, get us something to ash in,” Artie said tiredly, laying his socked feet up on the couch.

“Over a hundred years of progress and still nothing but a Chinaman to you hillbillies,” Keda lamented as he strode into the kitchen.

“Hey…” Artie sputtered to himself.

“He's got your number, Artie.” Tom knew Keda was joking around, but Artie hadn’t been around the Medium long enough to pick up on his dry humor.

“Where's the damn remote?” Artie grumbled. He got up and fished around the TV.

Tom followed suit and plopped his weight heavily into the other couch. He took off his wool jacket and fished around in the front pockets for his cigarettes. His lighter had evidently flown out of his coat in the crash.

“Got fire?” he asked as Artie returned to the couch. Artie leaned over and lit Tom’s smoke for him. Tom took a deep drag off it and breathed out contentedly. He still felt like he had a nail stuck in the side of his head, but after some nicotine he could tolerate it.

“Catch,” came Keda's voice. The Medium emerged from the kitchen and tossed a beer at Tom. Tom didn't react quickly enough, and the bottle bounced against the couch cushions. He picked it up and twisted the top, gulping from it greedily.

“Shit yes,” Artie said. His surfing had yielded a brightly colored channel. “Fuckin' cartoons.”

“What,” Tom said with a sneer.

“You go fuck yourself, Thomas Bell,” Artie said. He twisted the cap off his beer and took a long swig. “I nearly killed myself tonight to pull you out of a car wreck in a God damn river, and I am watching some fucking cartoons.”

“Fair enough.” Tom slurped his beer again. The show was some kind of anime. The voice acting made Tom cringe, but he settled in and shut his mouth.

“Good stuff should start in an hour,” Artie reassured them. “These all-ages shows are on first.”

“I know this one,” Keda said with a small grin. He sipped his own beer delicately as he sat down next to Artie. “Isn't this
Inuyasha?
I used to watch this back home as a child. I prefer the English dubbed version, strangely enough.”

“Fuckin' a right, it's
Inuyasha,
” Artie said with his signature chortle. “True entertainment from Glorious Nippon. Thomas Bell can suck a hundred dicks.”

“What-ever,” Tom said with a snort over his beer. Something ridiculous was happening on the TV. He didn't care to try and decipher it.

Artie scratched his chin thoughtfully while he took a drag from his cigarette. He flicked the ash into a wide-mouthed glass cup that Keda had brought from the kitchen.

“Hang on,” said Artie. “This show didn't start until 2000. You didn't even live in Japan then.”

Keda gulped his beer. Tom perked up.

“I'm mistaken,” Keda said quietly. “I used to read the manga, in the nineties.”

“Is that true, Artie?” Tom started. “Are you positive about that?”

“Well... I mean yeah, I'm a pretty big nerd for this kind of shit,” Artie said. “I can check it on my phone's browser, if you want...”

“No, it's fine. Keda, you haven't lived in Japan in over ten years. You hadn't even
been
back home until we went there last week.”

“That's-- no, I go back to visit my parents, Tom, calm down.”

“That's not what your file says,” Tom said. He leveled his finger accusingly. He'd caught the bastard.

“Oh,” Keda said with a small sigh, sipping his beer.

“Yeah,
oh,
” Tom said, standing up. “You've been lying to me about all this since I met you.”

“Tom...”

“Enough, Keda. There's no little visits with your parents, no trips back home. Anytime I'm around you I have nightmares, you keep things from us, you lie about your family--
who are you, Shinichiro Keda?
”

Artie had hunched his shoulders up at this point, leaning back into the couch, trying to stay out of the crossfire. Tom blew out a cloud of smoke and stood on his haunches, waiting for Keda to answer. Keda gave him a long look, and then sighed. Keda sipped from his beer again and looked down sadly.

“Okay,” Keda began.

“Okay what?”

“You're right, I haven't been home in a very long time,” said Keda, defeated. “I'm sorry I was dishonest. I don’t enjoy sharing my baggage with strangers.”

“I'm a stranger?”

“I've known you less than a week.”

“Well, cough up, because I've done my homework.”

Keda shrugged sadly.

“I haven't been home, because I'm not welcome there,” Keda explained flatly. “My mother and father disowned me some time ago, after I told them I was homosexual.”

Tom felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He stood poised for a long moment, but then slumped down, deflated and embarrassed, on the couch.

“Jesus,” Tom groaned. He slapped his forehead.

“It's alright, Tom.”

“No, it’s not. God, I'm a fucking
asshole.
I'm
so
sorry.”

“It's really fine,” Keda said. He offered his small, placid smile. Tom rubbed his face in disgust. He gulped his beer, smoking quietly.

There was a long silence. Keda just folded his hands and watched TV without a word. Artie reached over and patted him on the shoulder. Keda turned his head back and smiled. It was a wide smile, showing his teeth, reaching his cheeks. Tom had never seen him smile that way.

“I'm so sorry,” Tom said again.

“It's fine,” Keda repeated. He sipped his beer, keeping a small, contented grin.

Tom looked up when he heard Aloysius come bounding down the stairs. The dog was in his lap in an instant, woofing at him curiously.

“Oh, stop it, stupid dog,” came Heather's voice. She descended the stairs wearing a loose-fitting t-shirt and some boxer shorts that showed her upper thighs. Artie let forth a sharp whistle of approval.

“Fuck you, hillbilly,” she said with an amused sneer.

“Fucking pot to the kettle. What is with that word tonight?” Artie asked indignantly. Tom was rubbing Aloysius' head furiously.

“He's just a big sweetheart,” Tom affirmed. “Aren't you?”

“He thinks you'll feed him,” Heather said sourly. She snapped her fingers and pointed at the floor. “Down.
Git.
”

Aloysius barked at her. Tom gave Heather a goofy smile. He cradled the dog's head affectionately as if to present it to her.

“How can you say that to this face?”

“Ally,
git
,” she repeated to the animal. Aloysius barked at her indignantly. He laid down flat on his stomach, and placed his head on the floor with an indignant groan.

“Hope you've been drinking,” said Heather. Tom looked in her hands and saw that she was carrying a first aid kit. She propped it on the couch and opened it up to pull out what appeared to be a sewing needle.

“Aw, Christ.”

“Be a man,” she said, pulling out some string. “One of you get me a beer, wouldja?”

********

“
Aaahh.
”

“Shh, don't squirm.”

“Can I smoke yet?”

“
No.
Hold still.”

Tom flinched as the needle broke the skin of his cheek again. Heather pulled the needle back towards herself and he felt the wound tighten. He hadn't even looked in a mirror since he left the ravine.
How bad could it be, really?

“Are you drowsy?” she asked.

“Not really,” he said. “I kind of passed out in the car.”

“I'm surprised you haven't gone into shock,” said Heather. She pricked his cheek again. “How on earth did you manage-- nothing is broken. You have a few cuts and bruises, and then the rest of you is fine.”

“Man of steel,” Tom said with a smile. He regretted the grin instantly as the needle shoved through his skin again. “Ow.”

Keda finished off his third beer and stood up, stretching his back.

“I think I'll get to sleep,” he offered with a smile. “Thank you again, Heather.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Good night, Tom,” Keda said with a deliberate glance towards the Analyst. Tom did his best to grin back through his impromptu surgery.

Keda shut the door to the spare room behind him. Tom and Heather were the only ones awake, now. Artie had long since fallen asleep, still clutching his last near-empty beer, and was now snoring gently on the couch.

“So how do you get into a line of work like this, anyway?” Heather inquired.

“Like I said, it's not something I can really talk about.”

“Oh, come on. I pulled you out of a car wreck,” Heather probed. Another prick in the cheek.

“It's a non-disclosure thing. Government work, you know.”

“What, so I don't find out that there are monsters and ghosts living in my town?”

“Hah. I guess you have a point,” Tom snorted.

“Come on, just give me a hint. I won't tell.”

“Well. My house was haunted pretty badly when I was little. I got put into therapy for a long time. They tried to put me on a bunch of different medications. Some of them I took, some of them I didn't, most of it either made me worse or made me feel, just… completely dead, emotionally. I couldn't reconcile what had happened to me with a bunch of doctors telling me it wasn't real. Part of me felt like, I guess… yeah, I
knew
what I'd experienced couldn't have actually happened, but... I don't know. I guess it just stuck with me.”