The Serophim Breach (The Serophim Breach Series) (3 page)

He smiled to himself, thinking how shocked those same tourists would be if they took a short bus ride out of Waikiki and inland. The huge manicured palm trees disappeared from sight almost immediately. Out in Trent’s neighborhood, where Miles usually scored, shabby houses and rusted-out cars replaced the perfectly aged architecture of the Waikiki hotels and the sleek rentals that lined the streets.

Now, inside his dealer’s house, Miles chewed on a hangnail, shifting his weight slightly while Trent dug out the right-size bag. The air in the room smelled dark, tinged with cigarette smoke and chemicals. The muted television was the only light source in the room. Flickering colors bounced off the foil-covered windows, making Miles feel as though someone were standing behind him, moving in and out of the light too quickly to really be seen. He glanced over his shoulder briefly, making sure they were still the only two in the room.

Trent turned on the desk lamp so that it shone into the open drawer; sweet-scented smoke curled around the bulb, moving like ink in water. He finally plucked out a baggie and held it up, fingers pinching the ends of the cellophane. Miles held out his hand, noticing briefly that he had ripped the hangnail and started to bleed. He shoved the baggie in his pocket and stuck his thumb in his mouth again.

“Thanks, man,” he muttered around the digit.

Trent just jerked his head and returned to flop down on the sagging plaid couch. Miles wasn’t sure if the motion was a response or an indication to get out. He stuck a cigarette between his lips and lit it slowly, waiting for more direct instructions from Trent. After a moment, he took a few steps back, then turned and walked down the short hallway to the front door.

He squinted and lowered his head as he opened the door into the setting sun. Trent’s house sat at the top of a gently sloping street that faced directly west, and the rain that had been falling when Miles arrived left a sheen on the street. The wet asphalt shot sharp gold shards of light into his eyes, and he blinked rapidly a few times to clear his vision. He pulled the moisture-laden air through his cigarette, down into his lungs, and held it there, feeling the heat and ache of the smoke settle deeply into his chest.

For a minute he concentrated on the feeling of his pupils contracting, squeezing against the stabbing sunset. He was trying to place the feeling with another memory when he was distracted by frantic motion on the driveway. Miles blinked to clear his vision, and saw that a figure lay twitching on the ground, silhouetted by the sun. It was difficult to tell, but he thought he saw foam on the figure’s lips and chin; he heard swallowed cries, as if the figure’s throat had closed around his voice.

Without looking away, Miles called over his shoulder, “Hey, Trent, you got somebody tweaking on your driveway.”

There was no response from inside the house. Miles took a step forward onto the sparse lawn. Down the street, the sunlight flickered like the television, as if a shadow had passed in front of it. The movement of the light only registered in Miles’s peripheral vision, and once again he was struck by the feeling that someone was moving behind him. On the driveway, the tweaker convulsed again, thrashing this time, and let out a long, gargled wail through clenched teeth. Miles flicked his cigarette away.

“Hey, man, you need an ambulance, or what?” Trent would not be happy to have sirens pull up at his house, but he’d be even less thrilled if they were attached to a police cruiser.

A trash can fell off a curb a few houses down, and Miles jumped at the sound. His eyes flicked up for a moment, then returned to the tweaker. Another long shadow flitted across the shining road, but Miles was too engrossed with the man on the driveway to notice. He had never seen an overdose quite like this before; he was rooted to the spot, morbidly fascinated. Suddenly the movements changed, became more violent, and the tweaker threw his head back and let out a choked scream.

At that moment, Miles knew what was meant by the term “bloodcurdling.”

And then a sudden, brutal impact hurled him to the ground, knocking the wind out of his lungs. He tried to shout, struggling against his attacker and wondering briefly if Trent had let his dogs loose. There was a snarling in his ear, and then teeth sank into the flesh at the nape of his neck. The pain was unlike anything he had ever felt. It exploded like a fireball and ran in shuddering torrential waves down his shoulder and over his scalp. Under the razor-sharp agony, he felt the crushing, choking pressure of the teeth as they sank deeper into his flesh. A gulp of air reached his lungs, and Miles screamed like an animal caught in a trap. Desperately, he swung an elbow up, trying feebly to knock away whatever had him pinned. He connected with soft flesh and heard a grunt. Between waves of panic and pain, he realized, horrified, that his attacker was human. Before he had a chance to move or react, two fists grabbed clumps of his hair and slammed his forehead into the pavement. White, searing pain exploded behind his eyes, and he let out a weak, terrified shout for help. But in the back of his mind, he knew the people who lived in this neighborhood kept their shades, and mouths, shut.

I’m going to die.
The thought rang through the agony like a bell.

With a desperate surge of energy, Miles bucked hard and managed to toss his attacker to the pavement. Shaking with adrenaline and shock, he pushed himself onto his hands and knees, scrambling for Trent’s front door. It was like a nightmare. Panic left him sobbing and unable to cry out. He could barely move, and all around him he saw smears of his own blood. A snarl rose up from the driveway behind him, and he looked to see his attacker regain his footing. Miles had expected some huge, hulking PCP addict. Instead, he saw a middle-aged man with thick gray hair, wearing what had probably been a white lab coat. It was now covered in dirt, and a large dark spot spread across the crotch of his pants. Shoving away his confusion, Miles continued his panicked scramble toward the door. The attacker bared his teeth and jabbered at Miles as he advanced. A small detached part of Miles’s brain saw that the attacker was missing most of his right ear and wondered if that meant he wasn’t the madman’s first victim.

Miles jerked his head at the sound of another gurgling cry. Behind them on the driveway, the tweaker he had so quickly forgotten was struggling to follow. He too was shouting incoherently, working his jaw from side to side as he clambered across the pavement, swiping at Miles’s feet. He couldn’t form any coherent thoughts through the pain; the last of his strength drained out of him as he realized that he would not make it to Trent’s door.

The last thing he saw clearly was the attacker lunge forward, mouth gaping. The force of his assault slammed Miles’s head into the pavement again. His vision shrank to the size of pinholes. As the day darkened around him, he felt his skin tearing away, the pain reaching him slowly, as if from a great distance. He was conscious much longer than he wanted to be.

Honolulu, Hawaii—October 17

Kai could taste the familiar tinge of frustration in the back of his throat as he pulled the second large suitcase out of the truck bed. His father stood on the curb, checking his tickets, and Brandon leaned against the driver’s side door, staring into space. The airport in Honolulu was an aggravating place to visit for any local, and Kai was doing his best to ignore the tourist chatter that flooded in from all sides. He caught the scent of plumeria for a moment as a young couple walked by, decked out in leis, heading for the huge red bus that belched smoky fumes into the air.

“You could help out, dumbass,” Kai grumbled at Brandon.

His younger brother moved slowly, bringing his fists to his eyes and grinding them into the sockets as if he were a two-year-old waking from a nap. Kai dropped the bags at his father’s feet, and the older man started, then smiled at his son, embarrassed. Clearing his throat, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and peered at the screen, saying, “Mike called. Can you pick up the feed on your way home?”

Kai pushed his hair out of his eyes, nodding. “Sure, Pop.”

His father looked around vacantly, patting all his pockets starting at his chest. Kai grinned.

“Dad, don’t worry about it. We got it under control.”

He reached out for his father’s hand and shook it, squeezing as hard as he could. He could feel the older man return the pressure, and they both grimaced at each other. Then his father yanked him into a bear hug. For a moment, he felt like he had when he was small, and his father had been a giant.

“See you Sunday,” Kai said.

Over his father’s shoulder, he saw Brandon look up, bleary-eyed. He blinked a few times, eyes starting to clear. He pushed away from the truck and stuck his arms out to hug his father.

“See you in a week, Gary,” he said, smiling quietly. The two men exchanged a stiff embrace, and then Brandon shuffled away, heading back to the passenger side door. Kai watched his brother go, his brows knitted together. Next to him, his father said quietly, “Why do you think he’s doing that? Is he upset with me?”

Something was clearly wrong with Brandon. It had only been a few months since they had picked him up at this same airport, college diploma in hand, and he had been brimming with enthusiasm. He had talked nonstop the whole way back home, telling his father about breeding hybrid fruits, watering schedules, soil additives that would bring their farm into its own. For a month he had worked at breakneck speed, showing them different aeration techniques, ways to speed plant growth and increase fruit size, trying to get their fervor to match his own. But recently, everything about Brandon had slowed down. And only last week he had started calling his father “Gary.”

Kai just shrugged. “I’ll talk to him about it.”

They watched from the truck as their father headed into the terminal, then Kai pulled out into the street. Once he had woven through the tourist busses and taxicabs that choked the road, he pulled off onto a side street that would lead them back to the highway while avoiding the worst of Honolulu traffic. He took a deep breath, letting the airport tension go, and thought about how to start the conversation with his brother. He glanced to his right and saw that Brandon had fallen asleep.

Shaking his head, he wondered how they had ended up in such an awkward relationship. At twenty-six, Kai was the oldest of the four siblings, and closest in age to Brandon. His younger brother and sister, still teenagers, had been very young when their mother left; they had almost no memories of their family as anything other than the way it was now. But Kai and Brandon had spent a good part of their childhood with both parents around, and so experienced the same grief at their mother’s departure. They had shared a close bond throughout their childhood.

That was part of the reason Kai had chosen to stay in Hawaii after finishing high school, rather than take advantage of the baseball scholarships offered to him by several decent universities on the mainland. He couldn’t bring himself to leave his siblings behind, especially Brandon, who was just beginning high school. So he had played for the University of Hawaii for a year and lived at home, until a torn ligament left him benched for his sophomore year. He had ended up dropping out of school and working full-time on the farm.

Kai knew in the back of his mind that Brandon would have done the same thing if their dad hadn’t found the acceptance letter from Purdue and announced it at the dinner table. Although his father had been grateful for the extra help at the farm, he had clearly been disappointed when Kai turned down the opportunities on the mainland. He vividly remembered the look on his father’s face as he stuck Brandon’s acceptance letter to the refrigerator.

The first year away, his brother had called weekly and visited as often as they could afford to bring him out. But as he spent more time at school, he called less and was soon spending summer vacations with friends who had homes nearby rather than returning to the island. After a while, the family had adapted to his absence, and everyone had naturally assumed he would remain on the mainland to start his career. When Kai found out Brandon was moving home after graduation, he was surprised to feel nervous and a little resentful.

For the first month or so of Brandon being home, the family worked hard to keep up with his enthusiasm, maintained a cheerful demeanor, and ignored the undercurrent of tension at the dinner table. But as time wore on and Brandon’s energy waned, dinners got quieter, and they stopped trying to converse as they worked outside. In recent weeks, Brandon had even stopped joining them at the table and spent most of his time sleeping upstairs.

The deterioration of Brandon’s mood had affected their father most. It was almost painful to watch him try to converse with his son; he would clear his throat and shift uncomfortably, looking for new topics to pique Brandon’s interest, all the while trying to hide the hurt and confusion in his eyes. Kai, on the other hand, simply ignored his brother and went about his days as he had before. But with his father out of town, now was the perfect time to hash things out and try to get them resolved.

As Kai merged onto the freeway, he began planning the conversation he would have to have with his brother before their father returned home.

~

Sarah kept one eye on the window and one eye on the television. Kai would not like her watching MTV, but the VMAs would be all anyone was talking about at school on Monday, and she figured he hadn’t said she
couldn’t
watch. Both she and Lani were still in their pajamas, curled up on opposite ends of the couch, with their blankets and pillows in disarray.

She was beginning to remember why she had stopped having Lani over for slumber parties. They had slept downstairs so that they could stay up late without their chatter keeping the men in the family awake. But Lani had complained about the lumpy couch until late in the night, then snored loudly once she had fallen asleep. She was considerably larger than Sarah as well, which meant that there was not much room on the couch, even for Sarah’s legs. She had eventually moved to the floor.