Derek Landy - Desolation

“Need some help?” Virgil asked.

“Not from the likes of you!”

Virgil shrugged.

Javier rubbed his chin. “You sucker-punched me.”

“No, I hit you back.”

“Yeah, when I wasn’t expecting it. I might have concussion. If my brain swells tonight, you’re to blame. Everyone will know you killed me.”

“Not if I leave you out for the bears.”

“There are bears?” Javier said quickly, looking around like he expected one to come ambling through from the bathroom.

“This is Alaska,” said Virgil. “We have everything here. Javier, are you sure you don’t want any help getting off the floor? You’re a long way down, and it’s a long way up.”

“I can do it myself,” said Javier. “Look at you, talking like an old man. You probably need those handles in the tub, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” said Virgil. “I also have a seat in the shower.”

“Ha! Like an old man!”

“Says the guy who can’t get up off my floor.”

“I’m waiting for my second wind!”

“What are you doing here, Javier? Why’d they even let you out?”

“Let me out?” said Javier. “It’s a retirement village, not a goddamn prison camp! I leave when I want to leave! If I want to catch a plane, I catch a plane! Don’t you be treating me like I’m an old man. I ain’t dead yet!” Moving slowly, and carefully, Javier turned over on to his hands and knees.

Virgil watched him. “Did you travel across the country just so you could hit me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Javier wheezed, crawling to the wall. “Hitting you was a bonus. Hitting you made the trip sweeter.”

“So why are you here?”

“The mystery,” Javier grunted. Using the wall to steady himself, he started getting to his feet. Virgil stared at him. He knew about the murder? How the hell did he know about the murder?

“My doppelgänger,” Javier continued. “Want to … see him for myself. See if he … really is my double.” Finally, Javier was standing again. “Oh, thank Christ,” he muttered.

“Someone looks a little like you and you immediately get on a plane?”

Javier glared. “You said he looked exactly like me. That’s what you said.”

“I know what I said, but you couldn’t have known that I wasn’t exaggerating. You took my word on something like that? Why?”

“Because I want to see him, goddammit. Is that so hard to understand? If I have a double who looks just like me from years ago, I want to meet him. Comprende? ”

“You can’t meet him.”

“The hell I can’t! Where’d you see him? Just tell me where you saw him and I’ll do the rest.”

“He was in my neighbour’s house …”

“Well, okay!”

“… killing my neighbour.”

Javier paused. “What’s that you say?”

“You heard.”

“My doppelgänger killed your neighbour? That’s what you’re saying?”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“Well … why?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do the cops say about it?”

“That’s complicated.”

“In what way?”

“They’re in on it.”

“In on what?”

“The murder.”

Javier frowned. “You’re going to have to start at the beginning.”

“I was here. I looked into my neighbour’s house as your doppelgänger killed him. He snuck out, and before I could call them, the police turned up. The Chief of Police, actually. They took the body out in the middle of the night and covered up the whole thing.”

“Say it ain’t so.”

“I wish I could.”

“What kind of pills are you on, Abernathy?”

“Heart medication.”

“No pills that would make you hallucinate or imagine things or go crazy?”

“No crazy pills, no.”

“Cos it sounds like you’re on crazy pills.”

“I know how it sounds.”

“And you’re saying my double, my doppelgänger, is a killer? And you don’t know his name?”

Virgil hesitated.

“You do!” said Javier, eyes widening. “You do know his name!”

“I showed an old picture of you I got off the internet to the lady who delivers the mail, asked if she recognised this person. She said his name was Oscar Moreno.”

“My picture’s on the internet? Am I one of those internet stars I been hearing about?”

“No. As far as I can see, internet stars are cats and dogs and animals who do funny things.”

“Like Mr Ed?”

“I don’t think you’re quite getting it, but that’s okay.”

“And where does this Moreno guy live?”

“Across town,” said Virgil. “I looked him up in the phone book.”

“Just like you used to do on the show.”

“I guess.”

“Is that what this is?” Javier asked. “Are you falling into some delusion where you can no longer separate reality from fiction? Do you think we’re in an episode of the show right now?”

“If we were, you’d be Ernesto Insidio, evil mastermind, and I’d have to punch you again.”

Javier let a slow smile creep on to his face. “I think you might be nuts.”

“I really don’t care.”

“I actually think you might be losing your marbles. Do you know your own name? Tell me, are you Virgil Abernathy, washed-up television actor, or the Shroud, crime-fighting hero?”

Virgil looked at him, and shrugged. “I can’t be both?”

AMBER’S HANDS WERE GETTING better. They were still stiff, still discoloured, but the throb had reduced to almost nothing, and she could actually move her fingers now. She tested them on the walk from Main Street to the Dowall Motel, wriggling them a little in their bandages. The iPad was in the bag on her back and it bounced with every step she took. She was walking fast. After a day spent in her human form, she was ready to crawl out of her own skin.

She passed a park where little kids played on jungle gyms and swing sets while their parents looked on. The afternoon had turned to early evening, but it was still bright, still way too bright, and it was cold and getting colder, and they were all wrapped up in thick coats. Amber barely felt it. She started up the hill, keeping her eyes on the motel at the top. She envisioned herself walking into her room and stripping off her clothes and shifting, and had to bite her lip to keep from moaning.

A car pulled up alongside her, its window down.

“Hello there!” the driver said brightly.

Amber frowned at him and kept walking.

He was fat and balding, unexceptional, but his smile was intense in its friendliness. “I was wondering if you could tell me where Daggett Road is …?”