For I Could Lift My Finger and Black Out the Sun (17 page)

3

If there was a moment during that time when you could turn on the TV and
not
find coverage of Sol at the governor’s mansion, I must have missed it. Whenever I’d click on the tube to catch one of my shows, or pop on something Holly liked, I’d invariably have to switch away from the news. Mom seemed obsessed.

That
freaked me out. Sol was a good-looking guy, an attractive, charismatic guy. Was my mom interested in the story because of that? Of course not. That was a ridiculous thought.

Monday morning, the first Monday back in school after my fight with Bobby, I wanted to distract myself before heading out. I decided to catch a few early cartoons. This meant watching the preschool shows that Holly tolerated. Honestly, so did I. They were far beneath my so-called intellectual level. I didn't so much laugh at the jokes as groan, but it was better than nothing. As I turned on the TV, I saw the news instead and started to change the channel.

“Hold on!” Mom said from behind me as she came into the living room, setting down a bunch of colorful flowers tied up in a red bow. I looked at her, confused, then back to the TV.

The screen showed a wall of tanks, artillery, soldiers, all surrounding the governor’s mansion. But not idly. They were preparing something. The tension in the news reporter’s voice made that clear. The tanks and guns were obviously some sort of absurd show of force. I mean, were they really going to blow the governor’s mansion to bits to get one guy out? No way. Plus, Sol had already destroyed one of their tanks. I got the feeling they were testing him.

“Look…” Mom said, pointing at the screen. Sol walked out onto a balcony, seen from the high, shaky lens of a helicopter camera.

“We're seeing movement on the balcony. Sol has come outside. Perhaps he has something to say—” The reporter’s voice cut off abruptly.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
Gunshots? They sounded much different filtered through news microphones and TV speakers. Not the deafening blast I’d heard in the warehouse bay with Bobby. More like the startling but harmless sound of balloons popping.

Then I realized: They weren’t testing Sol. They were drawing him out.

It was hard to see clearly from the angle of the camera, from the distance, but it reminded me of the time I had shot Bobby in the stomach. Sol’s body seemed to open around the shots, several at once. He fell. The resolution wasn’t enough to say that’s what had happened for sure, but I could imagine. I’d seen it before.

“He’s down!” the reporter said. “It appears that military snipers have taken out the governor’s captor. Several shots — it sounded like three, total — have been fired, and Sol is down. I repeat, Sol is down.” Mom gasped. The view on TV showed troops rushing in from several sides.

Hold on
, I thought.
That couldn’t have killed him
.
Bobby shot himself in the head at point-blank range.
Assuming Sol was even more powerful…

The figure on the balcony began to move. Then he sat up. Mom made a small, surprised sound, barely audible.

The reporter noticed it, too. “Wait, there’s movement. Yes, Sol is now sitting. From this vantage point, it appeared that all three shots were on target, yet he’s sitting up. No — he’s getting to his feet, and…” The camera shook as it zoomed out, showing a view that included Sol standing on the balcony and the troops massing on the lawn just outside the mansion doors.

Beside me, Mom trembled, the fingers of one hand raised and covering her mouth. “I can’t believe all this is happening
so close to us
,” she said.

I turned. “What?” Was she shivering?

Absently, my mom waived her hand toward one wall. “I mean, the capitol is, what? Twenty-five miles that way? This… this looks like a war zone. It’s terrifying.” Her eyes remained locked on the television.

That way
…

I stared at the wall, the direction Mom had indicated, off toward the capitol. And felt it.

But what was I feeling? Something strange I hadn’t noticed before. Some compulsion, some pull.
That way
… Did it suddenly happen, or had it been there all along, unrecognized? I didn’t know, but what I did know is that it was there, like a splinter in my mind.

Sol is calling to me.

I shook my head. Despite the obvious reality of our powers, I felt like a fool. Calling to me? From so far away? Ridiculous.

I turned back to the TV. And he was staring at me.

Even through the shaky gaze of the helicopter camera, I would have sworn Sol was staring at me. Sure, he was probably just looking in the general direction of the camera. But if felt directed. At me.

Below him, the advancing troops broke ranks, Sol’s sudden resurrection throwing them into disarray.

No
, I thought at Sol.
Don’t
.

He did.

One soldier turned, fired at the man next to him, who fell. Two more soldiers took shots. The whole scene devolved. Random directions, bullets, people falling, blood. So much blood. Sol made them pay. For what? He wasn’t even hurt — I could tell that, even if the reporters and my mom were still confused. Still, Sol had his vengeance. There was blood. There was death. In the end, there was silence.

Even the reporters were quiet, which was possibly an awkward first in television history.

Mom turned off the TV without a word. Several moments passed. Then she turned to me.

“John,” she said, clasping my shoulders in a serious manner. “I need you to listen to me.” I nodded, and she continued. “This is
not normal.
What you see happening here is… well, it’s not something that will affect you.” I pulled back in a way that indicated I was scoffing at her, and Mom pushed harder. “Seriously. You go to school. You have a normal day, and forget about all of this.” She kissed me on the forehead, but I think I saw a tear in her eye.

“Mom…” I pulled away slightly. “Dad’s gone. Some crazy person is killing people on TV.” Then there was me. Bobby. Walter. The fact that I knew this Sol, this Jose do Branco. I almost said these things. Instead, all I said was this: “Nothing’s normal anymore.”

Mom looked up at the ceiling, eyes closed, tears streaming, but she didn’t say a word. After a long hug, she let me go and I was off to school.

Where I was still terrified Bobby would try to kill me.

* * *

Bobby.

At school, I was a mess. I tuned out all of my teachers. Every slammed-shut text book, every dropped binder was Bobby appearing behind me.

Oddly, my body seemed to ignore the perceived threat. My skin didn’t turn to stone at every sound. Although I was too afraid to realize it at the time, that was an interesting turn.

I was scared, but my body seemed… ready.

Through third period, I hadn’t seen Bobby anywhere, which was very strange. As the bell rang, I gathered my notebooks and backpack, heading for the hallway.

A hand slammed down on my shoulder and I nearly dropped everything. Hell, I nearly peed myself.

It was Steve. “Hey man, I kinda forgot to do the homework for Social Studies. Can you…
ya know
?” He pointed at me and winked. Yeah, sure, I
knew
, but I was busy with other issues.

“Have you seen Bobby?” I said.

Steve rolled his eyes. “No, remember? He’s
your
girlfriend, not mine. I don’t even have his number.” He paused, waiting for a laugh that I didn’t have inside me. “Besides, man. Haven’t you heard? Everybody’s saying he ran away from home.”

My mouth opened, closed. I must have looked like a bass fresh off the line. “What?”

Steve threw up his hands. “Sorry, man. I would’ve thought you’d have known. That’s the word. Bobby Graden is
gone
.”

4

The roof. I had to check.

I mean, I
thought
he’d been breathing when I left, but… Anyway, I had to check. I climbed the rusty ladder, took the stairs as far as they went, then a final ladder to the roof itself.

Just shy of the top, hanging from the last rung, I waited.

Bobby was my friend
, I thought. Then I shook my head.
Was?
Did I think he was already dead? I
knew
he was alive when I left. Or at least, I thought I knew it.

I peered over the edge.

The roof was empty.

I let loose a huge sigh of relief, so much that I lost my grip and nearly fell backward off the damned ladder. I shouted some curse word or other, slapping and then grabbing the rungs to regain a solid position.

So he wasn’t dead. Or he wasn’t dead on the roof where we’d fought, at any rate. Where else might he — ?
The warehouse bay
, of course. I rattled down the fire escape to the pavement below.

At first I ran flat-out, heading toward the rows of bays behind the lumber yard without a second thought. But as I got closer, I realized something: I hadn’t been back to the place since the
accident
. Out on the road, at the end of the long straightaway, I could see the hill. The same hill my dad drove over just before he died.

Taking in the view, I imagined the moment. My dad, expecting nothing more than a few minutes’ drive before seeing his family, maybe wondering what was for dinner, or thinking about something that happened at work that day. Then the hill, the realization that a car was blocking the way, the swerve. Never knowing that I was the one who’d put the car there. I jammed my eyes tight, trying to wish the tears away. I had things to
do
.

Finally, I opened my eyes. I was going to go to the warehouse and look for Bobby, and that was that. If I never set foot on this ground again, I’d have been happy, but I had something to
do
. I walked toward the intersection with the little side road, the one that led back toward the warehouses.

But to get there, I had to walk right past the place where it happened. Where Dad’s car ended up. I saw a small blot of color by the side of the road, something red flapping in the light breeze. Closing my eyes again, I thought,
Damn it. I know what that is.
The red ribbon. Flowers. Meaning my mom had left them, just hours before.

That was hard. I mean, me dealing with my
own
issues was one thing. But thinking about the pain my mom held inside, the daily struggle she went through with Dad gone. That was a mind scramble.

I shook my head and moved on, taking the turn toward the row of bays, then around back to the door of Bay 6. I knew it would be unlocked, and it was. But it wasn’t open.

With an echoing sound that was more moan than creak, I pushed the door out of the way and stepped into the darkness.

“Bobby? You here?” I thought either Bobby would leap out at me like the villain in a kung fu movie or I was talking to myself. I stepped forward, willing my eyes to adjust. “Bobby, if you’re here, I just want to talk, okay? No fighting.”

As the blackness turned to greyness, then eventually gained detail, I could see I was alone.

Except for a single sheet of paper left almost in the exact center of the floor, weighed down by Bobby’s gun. Sliding the gun to one side, I picked up the note and took a couple of steps toward the door, tilting the paper to catch the outside light.

* * *

J —

Not gonna write a lot here, since I don’t know who might find this, but wanted you to know I’m OK. Sorry about the fight we had. Geez, this sounds sappy. Anyway, I’m leaving. I’ve got a lot to learn and now I know how to start.

This thing we have makes us special. I have to use it. I know you have your reasons, but I hope you use it too.

You got skills, man. Knocked me out cold. Don’t worry. I’m not mad. Prolly deserved it haha

See you soon,

B.

* * *

I tucked the note in my pocket. As for the gun, I just kicked it into one of the darker corners of the bay. I didn’t figure I’d need it, since it didn’t do any good against people like me anyway.

Despite the fact that Bobby was gone, I smiled.
You got skills, man
.

Yeah, I suppose that was true.