Superman's Cape (20 page)

Jill bit her lower lip as she worked her way to the back of the news van. The throb became more manageable and she thought she might be okay.
At least until we get Jacob,
she told herself. With the cell phone open, Jill saw the first of the green-black bars blink on and then off. The hot metal she felt turning inside her knee reminded her to slow her steps. She grimaced and moaned as she moved. Two more green-black bars blinked on her cell phone. She remembered, a single green-bar was just enough for anyone. It’s
digital – right?
She questioned, and then dialed the number to the station and Andy’s office. The faintest of rings told her the phone was trying. She didn’t hear the second ring of the station’s phone. She heard raspy static and hisses one second and in the next, Andy’s voice spoke to her.

“Andy? -- Hi. Yeah, it’s Jill,” Jill pulled the phone from her ear and steered a smile toward Steve as Andy grumbled loud enough for the both of them to hear. He carried on about what time it was and wanted to know where the report was.

“Steve is setting up the link now and should have the report over in a few minutes,” she yelled. Steve gave her a thumbs-up.

“Listen. Hey Andy, listen to me,” she continued, and stopped as Andy asked more questions.

“No. No, Jacob isn’t here. He’s still at the Connely’s place,” she yelled and then turned to put a finger in her ear as a passer-by slowed his truck on the road. For a moment, pride masked the pain in her knee. They were ready to spit up the soup of digital ingredients she and Steve put together.

“We couldn’t get a signal. So we drove back until we could send up the story. Once the story is in, we’re going back to get him. Andy, listen to me. He’s sick, Andy,” Jill spoke and then paused as emotion crept up on her when she heard her words aloud. From the corner of her eye she could see Steve rolling his hands forward, telling her to keep going.

“Andy, he had another seizure. It wasn’t as bad as the other ones, but still…”

To Jill, Andy sounded anxious. She pushed the phone closer to her ear as he spoke up. “What’s that Andy?” she asked as her tone rose.

“Huh? What?” She listened. Jill’s eyes widened then narrowed. All of Steve’s activities ceased. And now he listened. “Okay, Andy, I hear you. We’ll get the feed out and then pick up Jacob … Yes. Okay. Uhh-huhh. I’ll call back and check in again in a few,” Jill told Andy as a frown formed and she hurried the call before hanging up. By the end of the phone call, the pain in her leg was a dull ache. She felt panicked by the news Andy delivered. And she could see Steve was hungry to know the news too as he motioned with his hands.

“What’s going on? What is it, Jill?” he asked with full attention.

“Andy said something about that hurricane. Hurricane Dani I think … and the latest forecast,” she answered him and started mouthing numbers as if counting.

“What?” he yelled.

“Governor is going to evacuate.”

“Where?”

“Andy said … everywhere. We need to get moving. We need to get Jacob and get out of here.”

Minutes faded to more minutes and then they faded into hours. Kyle opened his good eye for a moment and then closed it. The morning’s damp air left him feeling wet and cold. How long had he been asleep? How long had he been in the woods? It seemed like days or weeks maybe. But he knew that couldn’t be right. Was there really a baseball game? Kyle thought so, but as the cold wet of his clothes urged him to pee, he wasn’t sure. He reached across his chest and laid his arm there while he tried to decide what he wanted to do. Maybe he should go back to sleep.
Asleep
, he thought. There he was safe from the monster that was the forest holding him captive.
Just five more minutes,
he told himself. Another minute passed and his reservations faded. He felt the heat from the cut that swelled his arm. He was only vaguely aware of peeing as warm urine grew beneath him. He did feel relief, like the emptying of his bladder, the pain in his arm was almost gone.

But now, lying on his back, something was wrong. Instead of pain, he felt something else. He felt what he thought were butterfly wings that fluttered air kisses inside his arm. He felt as though something was in the Boar cut. And that it was exploring, moving and twisting about. A tickle begged him to scratch the cut. The tickle told him to start scratching until the cut lay wide open – spilling out blood and butterflies and whatever else. And keep scratching, the tickle insisted, just as long as the itch stays away.

There was no baseball game. He knew that now. There was something wrong with his arm. He knew that too. Kyle felt the heat of his skin on his fingers. He pushed against the crust of the wound just enough to turn the itch to something more painful. He could deal with the pain.

Warm liquid moved out of some of the scabby openings and cracks. It wasn’t a clear liquid. Not anymore. The leaky goo was clouded and yellow or maybe green and it felt sticky.

“Indeckded,” he mumbled as tears began stinging his eye.

He had a memory of winter fevers. Like the ones he felt come up under his arms and sometimes around his chest. The thermometer in his mouth blinked a hundred or more and his mom would say, “You’re home to heal.” She’d tell him no school for you. And that means, no xBox, no Nintendo DS, no Internet. You can read and maybe some TV,
but you’re home to heal
.

“Hone to heal,” Kyle whispered as he moved his hand under his shirt. He felt around his chest and then under his arm. And when his skin felt normal, he moved his hand to where his Mom always checked first, his forehead. Only she used her lips. A gentle and magical mom-kiss that told her everything about the type of sick that made her boy ill. He imagined his mother’s lips against his forehead as he pressed the tips of his fingers to the skin above his eyes.

“Tenderture normal … I dink, not dure,” he mumbled an announcement to the trees and the animals scurrying about. Relief was only brief. Something moved in his arm. From the scabby cracks leaking infected goo, something moved under his skin. Pus oozed and ran down his skin leaving a cold trail while fear and disgust rose inside him.

Terror tripped his heart and settled in his belly as he tried to catch his breath. His good eye sprang open wide as a realization hit him. The butterflies he imagined were real after all. Kyle shot his eye back and forth trying to see what was moving beneath his skin. Maybe it was raising the heat in his arm or maybe it was working up that old food smell he caught through his broken nose. More movement came from under his skin. His stomach rolled. A need to vomit passed in a small heave of hot liquid that spewed steam and made his face hurt.

The burn and itch was growing again. The nausea and some of the terror passed as the itch began to consume his thoughts. “Dis is gonna hurd”, he warned. He slammed his hand over the Boar cut. At once the tickle was slapped away while more infected ooze trickled out of the cut. Red pin stripes painted lines on the cold path alongside the yellow ooze. Movement under his skin slowed and he thought for a minute it maybe stopped.

Kyle’s mind raced to vampires and sunlight and he imagined this must be what they feel when the sun comes up. He almost expected as more daylight filled the space around him, he’d see wispy streams of gray smoke drift up from his arm. He even considered it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. And that he might like it. Plumes of the decaying smoke would erupt through little portal holes that opened as the daylight touched his flesh. He’d see his arm ignite in a fireball of red and orange flames that danced and crested in blue. He’d see the remains of his burning and charred arm breaking under the strain. It would fall to the ground and ignite the floor of the woods and burn every last thing. All around him would burn down so that none of this sheathed prison of brown and green would remain standing between him and his momma and Jonnie.

He hit his arm again as more movement and itching pulled him from his vampire and ash fantasy.

“Mom,” he mumbled, and started to cry as all of it, every last bit of it, was eroding his state of being to the point of his wanting to forfeit. Except it wasn’t just about forfeiting five more minutes in bed. He wanted to lie down and go back to sleep and he didn’t care if he ever woke up. His belly grumbled, but he no longer felt the same hunger. It stirred an empty reminder like the tree tops were doing. They rumbled concern over winds that pressed heavy on their branches. The pain in his arm and the fear of what might be living in there grew a web of craziness that was contagious. He couldn’t comprehend all of it. Not with the starved mind of a twelve year old. An hysteria was evolving and it was becoming more the norm from minute to minute and altogether replacing who he was.

An uncomfortable silence invaded the trailer as Sara sat across from Jacob. He guessed from the stillness that blanketed the room, she was trying to understand what was happening. It was quiet. Too quiet. The tick-tock of the second hand from a wall clock pulled his eyes. The clock didn’t fit. It was beautiful, and he guessed expensive, but it was out of place. He considered the photo on the table. The one that showed him Sara’s family. They stood in front of a large house holding a bright red SOLD sign. Maybe the clock was a leftover from their home in the photo. Maybe it was one of the few pieces they kept from a time that was no longer theirs.

As he stared into the face of the clock, he had a memory. But it wasn’t his. They bought the clock at a yard sale. It was a month after they’d moved and he remembered wanting to offer more than was asked. “Such a beautiful piece”, he said to the lady with the thinning hair.
Cancer treatments
, he remembered thinking when he saw that some of her hair was falling out. She told him to please put your money away. She said the clock was a wedding gift from her father. She said the clock aged a lifetime with her and her late husband. And that it was time to go to a nice young couple and start again. She handed it to him with a smile and he remembered smiling back and understanding what she was telling him.

The outside winds were picking up. It interrupted the memory and the tick-tock of the wall clock. Jacob tried to make sense of the time-piece and the old woman. Where did the memory come from? Maybe his gift was back and it manifested itself in a new form. Maybe it was Sara’s memory. He didn’t think so. On the other hand, his gift might be back and a hint of wellness lifted him. It was a small token, but it was something.

The young winds of the storm rapped on the metal siding. When Jacob felt the trailer shudder, he was certain Sara would start asking questions. Sara seemed oblivious to the storm. Even when a loose piece of the siding hit against the trailer like a broken bell, she didn’t move. Instead, she pushed her chair back from the table. Jacob watched with regret as she stood to leave.
I shouldn’t have reached across to her hands
. But it wasn’t his own doing – at least that’s what he told himself.

She didn’t turn back. She didn’t pause. Sara approached the door. Jacob opened his mouth to say something. Anything. But then didn’t. Sara hesitated before turning around. She held her hand and the ring on her finger. Her eyes darted around until they settled on him. She sighed and said, “I don’t know what is going on here, but … it is something.”

“Please …” Jacob started, but when she lifted her hand again, he stopped and let her continue.

Hesitant and uncertain, she started, “I … I don’t know you, and you don’t know us. I think whatever might be happening here, is
real
. And it isn’t a bad thing. It may even be a good thing. Maybe something that can help me find my son, Kyle,” she explained as though she were trying to convince herself.

Sara paused and stole a breath before saying, “I do know that whatever brought you here, whatever it is that is
in
you, or
is
you, it reminds me of Chris, my husband … ” she continued, but then caught her voice as it began to shake. She raised her chin.

“… and I want to see more of it,” she finished and raised a trembling hand to her mouth.

Jacob saw the tears as she swiped one away. He felt both guilt and relief. She did believe that he wasn’t crazy. But at the same time, he was causing her more pain. Jacob dropped his eyes at this last thought. When he went to say something he saw that Sara had already put her hand on the door’s handle and was leaving.

“Where is my momma going?” a tiny voice asked from behind him. The question startled Jacob. Jacob turned and moved toward the boy. He smiled as Jonnie’s small hands rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Gently, he answered, “She is going to check on your brother.”

“Are you going to …” Jonnie started as a yawn broke his words, “… stay with us?” he finished.

“Just until my friends get back --” Jacob replied, and then considered what Sara had asked.

“-- or, I might stay until we find Kyle.”

“My brother is missing. He went out the door when he broke the picture and he was crying and my momma was crying and the glass was on the floor and then he was gone,” Jonnie rattled out words as daylight from the window replaced the sleep in his eyes.

Jacob looked at Jonnie’s green eyes – and like Sara’s, they were familiar to him.

“You have your momma’s pretty eyes,” Jacob whispered.

“My eyes are green. My momma’s eyes are green, but they’re my momma’s eyes and these are my eyes,” Jonnie said smiling. The boy’s smile warmed Jacob and he returned his own grin.

Jacob pressed against the side of his head. A thump pushed more memories that he didn’t recognize. And then he was back at the door where the light bled into the hallway. It was there he saw the shoes breaking the light beneath the door. The door thumped again while he watched Jonnie continue talking about things boys his age rattle on about. The door thumped again. Jacob realized that it might be his decision as to whether or not he should open the door. The door thumped a fourth time and all he could think to do was run. Jacob closed his eyes and ran from the corridor. He ran from that place until the thumping went away.