Brian Keene - Terminal

“You’re making fun of me.”

“No, I’m not. Really. I’m serious.”

“It’s insane,” Kim interrupted. “I mean, no offense, Sheila, but we’re all under a lot of stress here. Maybe you’re just—I don’t know, maybe this is how you’re dealing with it.”

“That wouldn’t explain how he healed me,” Roy interjected.

“It’s crazy,” Kim insisted.

“It’s not that crazy,” Oscar said. “There are millions of cases of people healing others by the laying on of hands.”

“How do you know that?” Sharon asked.

He shrugged. “I read Fortean Times and Fate magazine. My comic book shop sells them.”

Benjy sang softly, oblivious. I recognized the tune as one T.J. had also sung around the house, something from a Japanese cartoon. I missed my son. At that moment, I would have traded all the money in the bank for another chance to hug him.

“So what else can he do?” I asked Sheila.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know—can he like turn water into wine and levitate and all that stuff? Part the lake maybe?”

Kim joined in. “And turn one fast-food Kid’s Meal into thirty?”

“No. He just heals people; that’s all. He can tell when somebody’s sick and he makes them better.”

An idea occurred to me.

“Can he—you know, raise the dead?”

“No! Of course not.”

“How did you first find out about his abilities?” Roy inquired.

She paused, collecting her thoughts.

“He was about three months old. We were living in a one-room efficiency apartment down on the square right overtop the old pawnshop. I didn’t have anybody else to help me with him—

my parents kicked me out when I told them I was pregnant. They said I was a slut and that I’d ruined their precious lives. Anyway, Benjy woke up around midnight and wanted his bottle. I had like one eye open, you know? I wasn’t just tired—I was exhausted. I put a glass bowl of water in the microwave to heat it up, so I could warm the bottle in it. Benjy was crying and I wasn’t paying attention and the water got too hot and when I went to pull it out, the bowl burned my fingers. Not badly, but it really hurt. I finally got the bottle heated and as I was feeding him, Benjy wrapped his tiny little fingers around my own and the pain went away—just like that.” She snapped her fingers.

“I didn’t really think anything more about it at the time. Figured it was just one of those things, you know? But then, when Benjy was three, I saved what little money I could and got him a dog from the animal shelter for his birthday. We named her Sandy, and she was the cutest little beagle that you’ve ever seen. She was really good with him. Gentle. Benjy pulled on her ears and her tail and Sandy just sat there and let him. You love that dog, don’t you, baby?”

He nodded, aware now that he was the subject of conversation.

“A year later, I got a few months behind on the rent. The landlord was a real asshole—wouldn’t work with me at all. One morning, in the middle of winter, two sheriff’s deputies showed up with an eviction notice. They threw us out in the street while it was snowing. I remember it was so cold and I didn’t have any idea where we would go. I was afraid to go back to my parents.”

She paused, her voice choked with emotion.

“The deputies gave us time to pack a bag and that was it. While they had the door open, Sandy got out. I guess she was scared by all the commotion, because she ran out into the middle of the street, something she’d never done before, and got hit by a car. It was horrible—the screech of the car’s brakes—and then there was this horrible thump and she was yelping and flopping around on the pavement. I remember thinking that. ‘She looks like a fish on land.’ The driver of the car didn’t even stop. He—the bastard just kept going. Before I could stop him, Benjy ran toward the curb. I chased after him, afraid the same thing was going to happen to him.”

She took a deep breath, clearly upset.

“When we reached Sandy, I saw right away that there was nothing we could do. Even if we’d had the money for a vet, she was dying and the vet wouldn’t have been able to save her. There was blood coming out of her nose and mouth, and her belly—her insides… they were sticking…”

She shuddered, unable to complete the story.

“I made her feel better,” Benjy picked up where his mother had left off. “I touched Sandy and her insides went back into her tummy and the blood stopped coming out. In a few minutes, she was all better again. I love my Sandy.”

He craned his head up to Sheila.

“Mommy, when will we get to see Sandy? Soon? She’s all alone at our apartment, and I bet she’s hungry. I bet she has to go potty. I do too.”

“Pretty soon, baby. Pretty soon…”

“Don’t count on it.”

Sherm stepped back into the vault. I noticed that Keith wasn’t with him and I thought again about the thumping sounds.

“Nobody’s going anywhere unless they want to leave in a fucking body bag. At least not until the cops give us a way out of here. Then maybe a few of you can go with us. If the kid’s got to piss, then make him cross his legs.”

He winked at Kim and she scowled back at him. He stared at each of them in turn.

“So what’d I miss?” he asked me.

“Nothing much. Just chilling out, keeping this pressure on this bullet hole in John’s stomach, trying to keep him from bleeding to death.”

He ignored my sarcastic tone.

“What about you?” I asked. “What’d you tell the cops?”

“Made sure they understand who the fuck is in charge around here.”

“And who is in charge?” I asked.

“We are, dog. What’s up with that tone in your voice?”

“Just seems like you’re the one that’s suddenly making all the decisions. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Yo, I’m just trying to get us out of here, Tommy. Feel free to jump in anytime.”

“Don’t sweat it.” I sighed. “What else did you tell the cops?”

“They’re supposed to call back in half an hour for our list of demands. All they know right now is that there’s six of us, armed to the teeth, and that we’ve got a dozen or so hostages.”

“Your math’s a little fuzzy, isn’t it, son?” Roy asked.

“Shut the fuck up, you old fart. Who asked you? What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

“Where’s the manager?” I prodded.

“Keith? He’s in the other room. Don’t worry—he ain’t going nowhere. I got him taped up good and tight.”

He stalked around the vault like a caged animal.

“I’m hungry. Kim, you ladies got an employee refrigerator or something like that?”

“No. We go out during our lunch breaks. All we have is a watercooler.”

“Shit. It figures.” He pulled out his smokes, shook one out of the pack, and snapped his lighter open. The click echoed in the silence. He inhaled, tapping his foot nervously. Then he snapped the lighter shut. Then open again. Then shut. He repeated it over and over, seeming mesmerized. All the time, his restless twitching increased.

“I tell you, it’s the work of the Devil,” Martha spoke up. “Satan is among us. Just as the pastor at my church said he would be. The Imp is alive and well and his acolytes walk our very streets. They hold us in bondage. These are the end times.”

“Be quiet,” Sharon admonished her. “We don’t need that kind of talk right now. It’s not doing anybody any good, so just be quiet.”

“I will not be quiet! These men, that boy—they are evil. Their unholy influence is spreading amongst you. Already you are tainted. It will all end in blood. Only blood can wash it clean, just as it did in the Old Testament. The blood of the innocent is required. The blood of the lamb.”