Old Bones: A Collection of Short Stories (9 page)

GAME OVER—0 POINTS
.

He tried again with
Ctrl
and
Alt
. The centaur sent an arrow into the dragon’s tail. It
screeched and banked away into the yellow glow of a full moon. Then
it veered back. Little people ran. The centaur shouted orders to
unseen comrades. A maiden stepped from an armament shop and gave
the centaur a blue arrow.

“Shoot at its heart,” the dark-haired maiden
said.

Leo was stunned to hear Emily’s voice come
from the computer’s speakers. He looked up. Frank had pulled his
attention from Kathy and was looking over at him.

“What’cha doin’, Nash?” the almost-bald man
called out. “Playing one of those new computer games? I’m
surprised. I took you for a book nerd only. Never thought you were
a game nerd too.”

“Well, I … it’s a birthday present,” Leo said
and smiled modestly.

“From Emily Umberto,” Kathy said from a
disapproving face. “They’ve been dating.”

“Dating? No way.” Frank came and clapped Leo
on the back. “You dawg! Good for you. No more blisters on your
putting hand, if you know what I mean.”

Leo stabbed the
Pause/Break
key on the
keypad and wished he had a button that could pause Frank’s nasty
mouth too.

Kathy joined Frank and stood on the other
side of Leo. She admired the computer, though her face looked like
she had just tasted something bitter. Frank, on the other hand,
looked like a kid in a toy store.

“What’cha playin’?” he asked.

“It’s called Dragon Slayer.”

Frank leaned over and touched the keypad.
“What’s this button do?” He thumped on the spacebar with a middle
finger. “Make it work. I wanna see what this game does.”

“It’s on pause,” Leo said. “Stop hitting
it.”

Frank pulled the laptop away. “Lemme see it
for a moment … I’ll give it right back.”

Leo sighed and resigned the computer to
Frank. Kathy smirked at the fat man. “You? A dragon slayer,
Frankie? Yeah, right!” She chortled and returned to her seat and
the three-year-old copy of
Readers Digest
. Frank followed
with Leo’s computer and returned to his spot next to her.

“Whoa! Check out the dragon and these
characters,” he said. “These graphics are awesome.” He attacked the
keypad and made explosion sounds with his mouth. “Take that,
dragon. And that … and that.” His stumpy digits blurred. Bombing
noises from his flatulent lips and cheeks drowned the sounds of the
game. Spittle showered the computer in his lap. The dragon sounded
angry.

Leo looked at the door. Emily would be back
any moment. What would she think if she saw Frank with his
gift?

“Okay, Frank,” he said, his voice barely
above a whisper. Then he raised his voice. “Okay, Frank. I think
it’s time you give it back.”

“In a minute.” Frank bounced in his seat and
made more bombing noises. Then, “Crap, I’m dead … I mean, you’re
dead, Nash.” He thumped at the keypad and said. “You were playin’
at the Beginner level, for cryin’ out loud. Everyone knows you
don’t learn a game ’less you go full speed. Lemme show you what a
Master can do.”

Frank returned to attacking the computer with
his hands and spittle. Leo winced and waited for Frank to
finish.

“Damn,” Frank cried, “I’m out of arrows.” He
thumped the
Enter
key. “Hey, this maiden with more arrows
looks like Emily,” he said and sounded delighted.

“Shoot at its heart,” the computer said in
Emily’s voice. Frank looked over at Leo and grinned. “Awesome,
dude.” Then he looked at Kathy. “Why don’t you do something like
that for me?”

Kathy frowned and glowered at Leo. He looked
away. She flipped a page of her
Readers Digest
and returned
to reading.

“Shoot at its heart,” the computer repeated.
“Hurry, before he kills you.”

“I’m tryin’,” Frank said.

“Hurry,” the computer said. “The dragon is
coming for another attack. Shoot!”

“Shut up. I’m hurryin’.”

“He’s coming.”

“Shut up I said.” Frank’s fingers were a blur
once more. Sweat appeared on his cheeks.

A terrible roar sounded from the computer.
Kathy jumped and looked annoyed. “You guys and your stupid toys,”
she said. She glowered and Leo looked away again.

“It’s not a toy,” Frank said. Sweat covered
his reddened face.

“Kill the dragon,” the computer demanded.

“Shut up already,” Frank said. He panted and
pounded the keypad. The screen emitted a green glow that billowed
like a sudden fog around Frank’s body. Kathy spun in her seat and
shouted at Frank, but no sound came as the glow swallowed her as
well.

Leo stood, transfixed by the glow until it
exploded in a flash of white light that sent Leo falling backward
over his chair. When he scrambled up, Frank, Kathy and the green
glow were gone. His computer rested on the cushion where Frank had
been sitting.

“Game over,” the computer said. “You lose.”
He thought he heard Emily’s voice snicker.

He stared at his gift, uncertain of whether
to go near it.

He picked up his overturned chair, sat, and
watched the door.

Why wasn’t Emily back yet?

I need answers!

He waited for her, uncertain if what he had
seen had really happened. But it must have. There was Kathy’s
Readers Digest
next to his computer.

He replayed the scenario in his mind several
times and shook his head every time. What kind of computer does
that to people? How?

Questions riddled his mind while he watched
the door and waited. Five minutes later, he paced the room.

Maybe he should go look for Emily.

He started toward the door and stopped.

Should he leave the computer here? Would
Emily be upset with him if he did?

He paced and pondered what to do.

He jumped and held back a cry when the
faculty lounge door opened. Emily smiled at him as she strolled
inside. The smile froze. Then it vanished as she stepped back and
studied his concerned face. “I’d never do anything to hurt you,”
she said.

“But Frank and Kathy … what happened to
them?”

“It’s okay. It’s only temporary.” Emily
pointed at the computer. “They’re safe. Inside. See?”

She waved a hand and the computer turned
until Leo could see that the game had started again. Frank was part
of the game now; he busily shot arrows at the red dragon.

Leo peered at Emily. “What are you?” he
asked.

“I hope I’m the best thing to ever come into
your life.” She laughed a sweet laugh.

Leo looked again at Frank.

“Die, you bastard,” Frank screamed at the
dragon that flew above him. Then he turned and looked at Leo from
inside the screen. “I don’t know how you did this, you geek,” he
said, “but I’m gonna—”

“Shut up, Frank,” Emily said. “You just fight
those dragons and try to rescue Kathy if you two ever want to get
out of there.” She winked at Leo, but he still frowned at her.

“Don’t be frightened,” she said, “or mad at
me. I promise no harm will come to them … or you. I love you, Leo.”
She took a step toward him and he backed away. Tears welled in her
eyes. “Do you love me, Leo?”

Leo rubbed his forehead. “I … I—”

“Answer the bitch,” Frank yelled. “I want
outta here.”

Leo looked at tiny Frank Hallstead ducking
from a stream of dragon fire. He suddenly needed to laugh. “Yes,”
he said to Emily amidst his laughter. “You are the best thing to
ever come into my life.”

Emily rushed into his embrace, her lips
meeting his.

“Get a room,” Frank yelled.

Leo went to his computer and closed the lid.
Frank and the game were silent. “Shut up, Frank,” Leo said and
laughed again.

“You have a contagious laugh, Mr. Nash,”
Emily said. “You should use it more often.”

Leo nodded. Emily took him by the arm and led
him to the door. He saw by the old clock on the wall that last
period was almost over. He looked at the computer and said, “As
much as part of me doesn’t want to, I think it’s time to let Frank
and Kathy out.” He sighed. “Frank’s never gonna stop harassing me
over this.”

“Don’t worry,” Emily said. “They won’t
remember a thing that happened. And every time Frank gets out of
line, I’ll send him back inside to fight dragons.” She opened the
door, waved a hand, and then took him by the arm again and led him
into the hall.

Before they left, Leo glanced into the room
and saw Frank and Kathy reappear on the sofa. There was no green
fog or white light this time. Both yawned and stretched and looked
like they had awakened from a nap.

Leo and Emily went arm in arm from the
school, almost skipping into the warm afternoon air and sunny
daylight outdoors, and laughing the way all lovers do when their
futures look brightest.

#

A
Matter of Time

THE BEST WAY to describe the room is that it looked
old—ancient-20th-century, single-bare-light-bulb,
yellowed-wallpaper old. The room was small and square, sans any
windows to clear away the smoky light that filled the place with
nothingness. It smelled of dust and rotted upholstered furniture,
but there was neither to be found. The wood floor with warped slats
that held two wood chairs facing each other was clean. It was
always clean, yet no one cleaned here. Ever.

The chairs were straight high backs, their
cheap wood painted oily black except where the paint was chipped
away like aging wounds. In one of the chairs sat a man in a dark
gray suit, silver tie and black loafers. Gray argyle socks peeked
from between the shoes and pants cuffs where his ankles were
crossed right over left. In the other chair, a woman sat upright,
her hands folded elegantly in the lap of her black, strapless gown.
Her hair was as dark as her dress and her skin glowed ivory. She
was studying with doe-like eyes the man in front of her.

He drew his large left hand through his
short, thick brown hair, then brought the hand to the back of his
neck where he stopped and rubbed it. Behind him was a door as old
as the room. It was closed. Its handle was round, smooth and bone
white. There was a keyhole below where light never passed through
from the other side.

“The prosecuting lawyers think Don Calloway
killed his wife,” he said with a tired voice. “Calloway says she
fell down the stairs, but the lawyers think she was pushed.” He
paused to reach for a cigarette from his shirt pocket, then
remembered he had quit. He thought of having a cup of coffee, but
the thought evaporated when the woman spoke. Her voice was sweet
and ever fresh.

“What do you think?”

“Only matters what the jury thinks. Court is
nothing more than a room of debaters.

Whoever presents the better argument wins. Or
loses.”

The woman brought a delicate right hand to
the white pearl necklace around her throat. “Mr. Calloway grew up
in Ridgewood,” she said with lips as red as scarlet, “prospered in
high school and college events with the help of his banker father,
and became prominent in New Cambridge as a TV news anchor. Lived on
the north end in that ugly brick house with sandstone trimmings and
cast-iron fence. Right next to the Methodist Church that he and his
wife always attended, and where their only child was baptized.”

“What’s your point?”

“He’s got money.”

“But remember the circumstances,” the man
went on; “Calloway was seeing that New Cambridge shrink Maxine
Green, and not on a professional basis if you know what I mean. And
the wife, … well, suspicion turned for a while on the young man she
was seeing. Police had seen him hanging about the house after ‘the
scene.’ He gave them the slip and hasn’t been seen since.”

She looked past him at the door and he turned
slightly. They waited as if anticipating someone’s arrival but no
one came. After almost a minute, the woman looked back at him.

“You think the boy did it?” she asked.

“Did what?”

“Push Mrs. Calloway down the stairs.”

He folded his arms and leaned against the
back of his chair. “Nah. His tender relations with an older and
married woman were harmless and easy to explain. But running like
he did only made him appear to have much to hide.”

The woman nodded. “The fellow next door … Ted
Jackson. He said he heard a crash just before Mrs. Calloway
screamed, yet no one found anything broken.”

“Just her neck.”

She looked at him and frowned. “Did you know
their house has a history?”

He smiled. “It’s been mentioned. Some story
started years ago by some crazy writer.” He laughed and saw her
scolding him with another sharp look. He stopped and licked his
lips.

She dabbed twisted fingers to the corners of
her mouth. “A Dr. Geddes once lived there, back in ’59. He killed
his wife Sarah in the kitchen—stabbed her to death after they
returned from a party. He thought she had been having an
affair.”

He waved impatiently and frowned. When he had
settled, she continued.

“Then in ’72, a family named Walker moved in
and reported that the house was haunted by Sarah Geddes’s ghost.
The grandmother, Ethel Walker had a seizure and was taken to the
hospital. Right after that, the Walkers moved out and the place
remained empty until Mr. Calloway bought it.”

He shrugged and their conversation stalled.
He looked bored and ready to take a nap when the woman interrupted
his slumber.

“She had on a black dress,” she said.

“Who?”

“Sarah Geddes. A black strapless evening gown
like mine. Like the one in the newspaper article my mother has in
her scrapbook.”

He coughed, then shifted in his seat. “They
let you go to your mother’s?”

She bit her bottom lip. “Just once. A long
time ago.”

He nodded and sighed. “Me too, but I can’t
remember why.”

Then he shrugged and unbuttoned his jacket to
reveal a blue vest. Except where it was stained a black, inky
color, the interior jacket was three shades lighter than his suit.
He pulled out a gold pocket watch and clicked it open.