95. Manubrium

MENSHEN GENERAL STORE ESTABLISHED 1966, BEER - FOOD - LOTTERY - AGENCY LIQUOR STORE - FUEL - HARDWARE - PROPANE - SPORTING GOODS.

There was no wind. Outside the air was so cold and clear it felt like there was no atmosphere, nothing between them and the stars. The faint sounds of televisions and conversations from the other rooms faded away as they walked across the parking lot. Freya and Dan could feel the weight of the silence, heavier with each step. This was nowhere.

Somewhere over the hills they could hear an engine coming, long before they could see headlights. They stopped and listened, the pickup truck whipped past them, painting the road red with its taillights as it rumbled away. It reminded Dan of a time when he was fourteen. He’d gotten really high in his room and lay with his head hanging off the edge of his mattress, listening to cars hiss by in the rain outside. As they relived his memory, Freya caught a sense of that elevated feeling, she was curious, she’d never gotten high before. But Dan gently pushed the memory away.

This is better, Dan assured her. He took her her hand, and she trusted him completely. They crossed the road, headed for the yellow floodlights of the Menshen General Store. It was an old farmhouse with a long porch running along its front, there were scabs of rust seeping down the steel roof where snow had scoured away the galvanization. The front door was was guarded by two taxidermied black bears rearing up on their hind legs. They might have looked imposing, but some wit had put baseball caps on both, the left one wore a bright red Maine Roller Derby Cap, the right had a faded Bangor Blue Ox hat.

Hiiiiiicks, Freya thought, and she expected to be chastised for the uncharitable thought, but Dan began to hum Dueling Banjos. She laughed out loud, and gave his shoulder a little shove, he was grinning ear to ear. They were struck by the way the joke had surprised them both, it reminded Freya of improvising with her guitar, the way ideas just popped full-formed out of her skull like Athena.

Dan didn’t know who Athena was, and Freya was explaining to him when they were illuminated by headlights. They’d been so wrapped up in their thoughts they hadn’t heard the truck coming, and they moved to get out of the way of the gas pumps.

Then they heard the engine roar.

For an instant they froze, blank as deer. Freya snapped out of it first, she grabbed Dan’s arm and wrenched him out of the way an instant before the truck hurtled through the space where he’d ben standing. Dan was caught off balance and fell, she could feel the asphalt digging into his hands as he caught himself awkwardly. Brakes screamed and the stink of burning rubber rose.

He almost killed us!

They were struggling for an explanation, it had to be some drunk driver. The ham of Dan’s palm had been worn raw by the dive, everything hurt more in the stinging cold. He climbed to his feet, as Freya was glaring at the culprit.

It was the black Tahoe. It couldn’t be, they were in the middle of nowhere, miles away from Sillas. But Malcolm Lewis climbed out of the Tahoe, the revolver was in his hand. He was unsteady on his feet as he walked towards them, a drunken roll in his gait. The harsh floodlights cast his face into shadow, his eyes were sunken into sleepless pits.

Freya drew Randall’s gun. She had pictured this moment a thousand times, her thumb flicked off the safety, she stepped into a two-handed stance and took aim at center mass. Malcolm didn’t even seem to see her, his eyes were locked on Dan, who was standing with his bleeding palms up.

Freya tried to shoot Malcolm, but she couldn’t do it. Everything in her was willing the gun to fire, but the cords had been cut, her finger would not pull the trigger. At her side, the Starball was a blazing mote of pain. Nausea churned in her, and she could feel the same thing in Dan, amplified by Unity.

Starsickness!

Freya choked with disbelief. The orb hadn’t warned them! It was paralyzing her instead, she couldn’t fire. Malcolm raised his gun, pointing the revolver at Dan. They had been betrayed.

“Malcolm! STOP!” Freya found the will to shout, her voice came out sounding half-strangled.

“I can’t!” Malcolm croaked back.

There was something terribly wrong with him, his face was twitching, his shoulders were shaking.

“Don’t do this,” Dan pleaded. His fear was volcanic and there were flashes of white behind Freya’s eyes while she was screaming inside for control.

Malcolm pulled the trigger.

The gunshot was deafening. For a moment neither of their brains worked, they’d been scrambled by the explosion. Pain flooded in, burning hot and unbearable. Dan was touching his body, trying to figure out where he’d been hit, everything he touched hurt.

He shot me! They thought, and there was a clack as the revolver slipped from Malcolm’s hand to clatter against the asphalt.

He shot me!

There was something wrong with time, it was going slower for Dan and faster for Freya. The command she’d been screaming into her fingers finally registered through the lag and she shot Malcolm three times. She kept firing as he fell to the ground, the gun was empty and she was still pulling the trigger over and over. Randall’s gun was burning hot in her grip but it was overridden by a crucifying pain in Dan’s palm. The bullet had gone through his hand before it struck him in the chest.

DAN!

Freya flung the gun away and rushed to Dan, he was crumpled on his back, gasping for air. The hole in his coat was far too small for the red agony they felt. She tore at it, ripping his zipper apart, there was so much blood underneath. The bullet had struck just below the hollow of his neck.

Help! Dan was begging her, and she didn’t know how. Neither of them could breathe. Dan’s lungs were filling with blood, he was convulsing and her own chest was heaving, in synch with his. The ringing in their ears was drowned by a static roar, and it felt like they were being squeezed by an enormous crushing fist.

There was a terrible shock in Freya’s chest as her heart started again. She felt no answering beat from Dan. His pain was growing distant, he was trying to reach out for her, but darkness was swallowing him. The last thing she saw through his eyes was her own face, contorted in a scream.