Jon Merz - Vicarious

“Whatever can do this,” said Kwon. “Or whoever — I'll tell you what: I’ve never seen anything like it. There's no medical precedent. As far as science is concerned, this crap-” he pointed at Harry. “-just does not happen.”

Curran nodded. “Which leaves us where?”

“Pretty obvious to me,” said Kwon. “Might be time to look a little closer at the supernatural theory.”

Just what he did not want to do. “You know where Harry died?”

“In your office, right?”

“Yeah.” Curran’s heart hammered in his chest. He needed a cigarette. “He died last night while I was working late.”

Kwon’s eyes opened wider. “Steve-“

“Yeah. That’s what I’m saying, pal. Harry here died while I was sitting only a few feet away.”

“That means-“

Curran nodded. His head hurt. Everything hurt. “The Soul Eater paid me a visit last night.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you smoke too many cigarettes?”

Lauren watched the expression on Curran’s face change from serious to wry. “Everyone I’ve ever known.”

“And yet you still smoke.”

Curran shrugged. “Maybe I’m not ready to imagine a world where man has no vices. Maybe I think everyone has something they do that’s not altogether wise. Some type of activity that they ought not to do, but do it anyway.”

“The good can’t exist without the bad, is that it?”

“Deja vu,” said Curran.

Lauren glanced around Newbury Street. Throngs of people shoved their way toward the subway station while panhandlers held their cups out hoping for a brief glimpse of salvation. Most of the people walking by ignored them.

She glanced back at Curran who ground out the butt of his cigarette. “What’s happened that you called me down here again?”

“You don’t enjoy coming here?” He gestured to the street. “This place doesn’t do it for you?”

“I don’t enjoy seeing the amount of misery the city inflicts upon others. I don’t know if I was made for city living.”

“Not like you grew up in the country.”

“No.” She watched another businessman shove past a beggar, the look of contempt clearly evident. “But a move there might be just what I need.”

Curran stayed quiet for a minute, the weight of indecision evident on his face. “I think this guy — this Soul Eater — paid me a visit last night.”

Lauren felt her chest heave. “What? Are you kidding?”

“Wish I was.”

Lauren listened as Curran told her the details. When he finished she simply stared at him.

“You named him Harry?”

“Wasn’t my choice,” he said. “Sometimes cops aren’t very imaginative.”

“And Dr. Kwon did an autopsy on it? And the brain was green as well? Just like my brother?”

“Yeah. And all those other people this Soul Eater guy has killed.”

“Does Kwon have any idea why it turns green?” There hadn’t been any mention of the green brains in anything she found at the library.

“Says there's nothing he's ever seen that explains it. Aside from the supernatural.”

Lauren could see the frown etched across Curran’s face. “Why is it so difficult for you to accept the idea that he might not be of this world?”

“You’re making him sound like he’s an alien.”

“Alien in the sense that he doesn’t belong here.”

Curran sighed. A stiff cold wind blew a newspaper past his feet. “You don’t think this guy is human even?”

“I’ve never known any humans that could rip the soul of a man right out of his body.”

“Neither have I. That doesn’t mean it can’t be done.” He shrugged. “Maybe I’m just not ready to accept the idea that he might be some kind of…I dunno…a demon.”

“Demons come in all shapes and sizes, Steve.” She tried to smile. “I’ve wrestled with quite a few of my own over the years.”

He chuckled. “And here I thought they’d all have scaly skin, horns, and smoke coming from their noses.”

“Sometimes it’s the ones who look the most like us that are the worst.”

Curran nodded. “Wish I could embrace the idea as easily as you seem to.”

“Something’s keeping you back.” She touched his arm and felt him jump a bit. “What is it?”

She watched him look up at the sky. Thick gray clouds streamed in from the west. There’d be more rain tonight. November’s cold soaking rain.

At last Curran sighed again and reached for a cigarette. “Happened when I was a kid.”

“What did?”

Curran’s lighter clicked a small blue flame into existence that he touched to the tip of a fresh butt. She watched him close his eyes and inhale. When he exhaled, his eyes opened but they were already far away.

“I had a friend. Named Joey. Joey and I, well we were about as close as two guys could be growing up. Played baseball, hung out, pitched cards, you name it, we did it. We got to the point where there wasn’t much need to do a lot of talking. We could just look and know what the other was up to. Pretty cool when you have a friend like that in your life.”

I wouldn’t know, thought Lauren. I’ve never had anyone like that in mine.

“Joey’s family, you know they were old school Italians straight over from Sicily. Very church-going. Every Sunday. Holidays. Feast of Saint Anthony’s — the whole nine yards. Joey, you know, he kind of poo-poo’d the whole thing being we were kids and all, but I knew he had a lot of respect for the Church.”

“Did your family go to Church as well?”

Curran shrugged. “We were German Protestants. I think the only time we used to go was midnight mass on Christmas. Otherwise, we were pretty relaxed about our religion.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” said Lauren.

“Well Joey and his family — to them it was wrong. To them, we weren’t being respectful to our faith. They used to parade the fact that Joey was an altar boy and try to make it seem like my family was less than perfect for not going every Sunday.”

Curran smirked. “My old man, it didn’t bother him a bit. He was like that — couldn’t give a damn what people thought of him. As long as he put in an honest day’s work and took home his pay to support his family — that was fine in his book.”

“Did you ever wish you’d gone to Church more often?”

“All the time. It would have made it easier visiting Joey, that’s for sure.”

He paused and sucked down the length of the cigarette. Lauren watched his eyes narrow. “What happened, Steve?”

“Joey changed.”

“What — like you two grew apart?”

Curran shook his head. “No. He changed. Instead of laughing and pal’ing around the way we used to, he got really…weird.”

“Weird?”

“I asked him about it, but he wouldn’t say anything. Just accused me of being paranoid. But I knew. I knew something was going on. We hadn’t been best friends for years for nothing. I could see something was bothering him. Bothering him bad.”

“Did you find out what it was?”

Curran’s jaw tightened. “Yeah. I found out.” He exhaled a long trail of smoke into the darkening air. “The next Sunday I went to church on my own. And I saw Joey do his thing at the altar. I watched the folks going up for communion, listened to the sermon by the old priest, and hung out. Joey didn’t know I was there. Why should he? I’d only ever gone once a year all those times before.

“When the service was over, I hung back. I hid in a pew and waited until everyone had left. When it was just the priest and the altar boys there.”

Lauren’s heartbeat increased. Oh God, she thought.

Curran nodded. “You know already what I’m going to tell you. Well, it’s true. That damned priest took Joey into his office and raped him. Bent him right over his damned desk and had his way. Then the priest saw me and started to come for me. I ran. I ran so freaking fast I thought my legs would fall off.”