New Title 3 (3 page)

Apparently everyone down under was as obsessed with the Reaper as we were, because Mom asked me if I was holding up okay. She also wondered if I needed her to come home early. I told her that I wasn’t bothered, and that I’d rather she enjoyed her well-deserved vacation. We discussed my exams and college applications. I told her that report cards hadn’t come in yet, and I’d cut the grass tomorrow.

“
Well, you have my number here, Joel. Call me when you have a minute. I love to hear from you. Love you.”

“
Bye, Mom. Have fun, okay? Love you too. Bye.”

I hung up. An eerie feeling overwhelmed me.

“
What is it, man?” Connor called. “Is everything alright with your mom?”

“
Yeah, she just got a little worried about that Reaper shithead.” I pointed at the television. The most recent post from his website scrolled across the bottom of the screen. “She was wondering if she should come home.”

My heart sank. I was suddenly nauseous and I didn’t know why.

S
unday came and went. I wrote my first exam on Monday, and four more on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Thanks to Sara’s coaching, I thought that I did pretty well. My world seemed to be a perfect one, outwardly at least. Inside, my mind periodically raced with the anxiety the Reaper had instilled in me, in all of us. I hated him for that.

My chief concern was for my mom. I just wanted her to enjoy herself. Managing Dad’s business had worn her out, especially with Jake’s dad constantly screwing things up. At least she could relax with Connor’s brother running the place while she was gone. He was a godsend. That was what she called him.

Mom missed Dad terribly- that was why I liked her to get away from it all once a year and just live. But now this asshole Reaper was messing that up. God, I hoped that they would get him soon. It would be awful if he really had the means to carry out his threats. Maybe that was why the government didn’t appear to be concerned about him; maybe his claims were so ridiculous that they couldn’t possibly come to pass. That was a comforting thought.

On Wednesday afternoon I took my mother’s car into town. I thought I might as well pick up what groceries I could for the camping weekend and save us from subsisting on the overpriced chips and hot dogs that the country stores tried to sell to campers as perfect outdoors food. When I returned home, rain began dotting my windshield. Again! “Why doesn’t it let up already?” I wondered.

I rolled down my window and yelled up to the addition. “Hey Kev, get out here and help me unload this shit.” I saw his face press against the rain-streaked glass, followed by a thumbs-up.

When everything was put away, Kevin led me into the addition to study his newest piece. He wasn’t happy with it. He was on a dark symbolism streak that began in school, and even though he’d been accepted to art college, he couldn’t seem to shake the dire imagery.

“
If you’re having trouble coming up with disturbing shit to paint, I should let you get inside my dreams.”

“
Do tell Joel, what sort of things are you dreaming about these days?” So I told him, and predictably, he was quite taken by the imagery of skunks and storm clouds. “Would you care if I used those? I’ve got great visuals in my head for them.”

“
Sure. You can copyright them for all I care.”

I left Kevin frantically sketching in his book, and went out to the back yard to cut the grass, as the rain had tapered off for the moment. Just as I was starting up the ride-on lawnmower, I saw the three-legged skunk standing only thirty feet from me, staring. A shiver ripped down my spine.

“
Okay, this is really starting to freak me out,” I said aloud. He broke his stare and began hopping toward me. Jesus- was that thing rabid? I threw the mower into high gear and fled. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Stinky gaining on me. Suddenly the mower stalled. I jumped off, slipped in the wet grass, and fell on my face. It was just like something out of a bad horror movie. I looked back, and there he was, right beside me. Now I was sweating. What the hell was I supposed to do?

Suddenly Kevin’s dog barked from the house. Stinky looked up and bolted. Blessing that dog and her future generations, I scrambled to my feet and ran into the house, where I made a beeline for the liquor cabinet and poured myself a stiff drink.

“
Do I smell a skunk?” Kevin came into the kitchen.

“
What!” I lifted my wrist to my nose and sniffed. I didn’t remember getting sprayed.

“
Whoa, relax, Joel! I’m talking about my beer. Here, smell it. I think it’s past its prime.”

I took the bottle and inhaled. “Yikes! Yeah, that’s nasty! You must have gotten a bad bottle. Look, sorry if I freaked you out just now. I ran into old Stinky outside and he almost got me. I swear, I am having nightmares about that thing.”

“
Speaking of your nightmares, I have some roughs done for you to see. Come on up.”

That should be interesting. We went upstairs and into the addition, where he handed me his sketchbook. Flipping through it, I suddenly stopped cold. There, on the page in pen and ink, was a scene that I’d been seeing in my dreams for almost a month.

A cross stood alone on an empty desert terrain. The moon cast a long red shadow of the cross, like a red carpet rolling off the edge of a cliff. My face darkened. Kevin, thinking that I didn’t like it, asked if I was okay.

“
Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Kev, this one in particular is phenomenal. It’s exactly what I’ve been seeing.”

“
Thanks, man. I’m going to do huge canvas of it. I call it ‘The Path to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions.’”

“
Perfect.” I breathed deeply and willed myself to relax. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, man. Everything seems to be freaking me out lately. I think I’ll go lie down for a bit and see if that helps.”

I left the addition, shaking my arms to release the anxiety that was creeping into my waking world, leaving Kevin with more questions than answers.

My bedroom had always been a refuge for me, so I went there. After closing the door, I approached my oldest friend, who watched me from his post on my desk. Rex was not a person, though, or even a pet. My long time confidant, the one party who knew me better than my mom and Connor, was a Popsicle-stick Tyrannosaurus Rex.

I made him for my dad at summer camp when I was six. He stood a foot high, was painted green, and represented my proudest childhood achievement. If Rex could have talked, he would have spoken volumes about my life, but he couldn’t, so I told him everything.
You can’t trust your closest friend with secrets.
That’s what my dad used to say. He knew how much I loved my dinosaur, so he urged me to use Rex as a sounding board whenever I needed to express my deepest thoughts or sweep out my darkest corners. “He’ll never question or judge you,” Dad said. Talking to Rex would be akin to holding a conversation with your conscience, with yourself. Of course I didn’t quite grasp the concept at the time, but Dad knew it would sink in later.

Sitting on my couch, I looked Rex in the eyes, eyes I had chosen to colour a bright piercing red. I took a deep, concentrated, breath.

“
Something’s going on with me. This Grimm Reaper shit – the skunk, I’m on edge.”

I picked Rex up and bounced him on my lap.

“
My nightmares – they started the day I heard about the Reaper. It’s gotta be bullshit. But I can’t shake this feeling.”

Just as I finished my thought, Connor walked in.

“
Joel? Talking to yourself? Freak! Just stopped in to grab my bag of shit, I’m going home tonight.”

“
I’ll walk you out.” I glanced at the clock on the wall as we descended the staircase. It was only 7:30 p.m., but I was exhausted. After seeing Connor off, I returned to my room, saluted Rex, and collapsed onto my water bed, the water sloshing around me. It had seemed like a good idea when I was 12. Now it was just a noisy, nauseating pain in the ass.

Kevin peeked in. When he saw me stretched out, his brow furrowed. “Joel, it’s only seven-thirty. Are you crashing now??”

“
I thought I might try an early night. Today’s been intense, man.”

“
Okay, I’m off to paint. See you tomorrow then.”

He took his leave. Later, I could hear music through the walls, something instrumental, a beautiful lullaby. Kevin took much of his inspiration from music. Said it helped him create. I liked it.

*****

I spent most of Thursday preparing for our camping weekend and involuntarily listening to the Grimm Reaper updates. The media loved this asshole because he was such a ratings booster. The more scared people got, the more they hovered around the television and radio.

The latest news was that the Reaper had a following of religious crazies who agreed that it was time for the planet to be “cleansed.” These followers called themselves the Church of the Four Horsemen. The four horsemen of the apocalypse, no doubt. I wouldn’t disagree that the world was a ruthless place where money and self-interest took priority over everything, but it had been that way since the dawn of civilization. The only way to change things would be to rip humanity up by the roots and plant new seeds, so to speak. I just didn’t see how it was possible unless….

The music station I was listening to while polishing the car suddenly interrupted its programming with a news flash. “This just in off the Reaper’s web page,” the announcer declared. “Money is not the root of all evil. Possessions are. We as a society strive to have more of everything. More than our neighbour, our brothers and sisters. Money buys us these possessions, and if we do not have the funds with which to purchase these material things, greed and want pushes us to steal in order to possess. In many instances one man will kill another in the attempt to possess that which he does not have.” She stopped. “I don’t know about our listeners out there, but that really hits home for me. Just yesterday a couple in my building had a break-in, and the man was beaten beyond recognition.” She paused. “Is anyone else out there starting to like this guy?” Suddenly music came back on- the management must have stepped in.

I shook my head as I resumed polishing. “Sounds like the Church of The Four Horsemen just signed up another member.”

When the music began to suck, I tried other stations, but half the time, I’d just catch another news broadcast about that shadowy son of a bitch. Speculation abounded on the subject of the Reaper’s identity. One theory was that he was not a single individual, but a façade created by the Chinese or North Koreans to draw attention and accusation away from themselves when they commenced nuclear warfare. Others thought that he might be the Internet face of a group of Islamic extremists. Who would know before it was too late?

I
t was now Friday morning and my duties pertaining to the weekend were finished. All that remained for me to do was wait for Connor and the girls. The rest of the crew would meet us up at the lake that night.

I had about four hours to kill before they arrived in Connor’s four-runner, so I decided to lounge at the pool to escape any more media shit on the Reaper. The day couldn’t have been more perfect. The sky was an intense blue, like the water. A soft breeze fluttered through the forest. My palm stroked the grass as I sat cross-legged on the lawn. My anxiety diminished.

Connor and the ladies arrived right on time.

“
Ready to roll, Joel?” Julia sat on the diving board and splashed her feet in the water.

“
Just say when.”

“
I loaded all the stuff you had in the front hall into the back of the truck, buddy,” said Connor. “Beer in the fridge?”

“
Uh, yeah, it’s in the basement fridge. There wasn’t enough room in the kitchen.” I closed my arms around a smiling Sara and kissed her.

“
You ready to go, lover?” She grinned.

“
I’m ready if you are.” I stared at her face- she had such beautiful green eyes.

“
Oh, I’m ready,” she answered. She turned toward the truck, but I caught her hand and spun her back to me.

“
You know, you’ll never want to leave. Nobody ever does.”

“
Then maybe we never will.”

Once the truck was loaded we paused for a beer, and soaked in the last of the sunlight, faces angled upwards, eyes closed. Then we were on our way.

I settled into the front passenger seat. Just as we were backing up, I glanced toward the side of the house and saw the three legged skunk. He was staring at me, singling me out as if to say,
I’ll see you when you get back. I’ll be here, waiting
. It almost made me sick, literally. I turned to Connor. “Let’s get the hell outta here.”

“
I hear that, old man, I hear that.” He backed out and took the corner just a little harder than usual, and I left the skunk and the Reaper and thoughts of report cards behind me. I’d deal with all that crap later.

*****

The drive seemed longer than I remembered, but I willed myself to be patient. Soon we’d be setting up camp and opening our first pints around the lake. The thought made me smile with anticipation. God, how I needed to get away.

Finally we approached the long-hallowed spot. The lake glistened as the moon rose and the sun was put to bed. Trees surrounded us: we passed one that I knew bore my and Jill’s initials. Jill had been a sweet girl, but Jesus, what a temper! And jealous! She blamed our breakup on another girl. Of course she did- she never considered that her attitude might have been the issue.