Growth (15 page)

So that meant that Jerm would likely hide the gun while he was in school, then retrieve it later. And the most obvious choice was somewhere safe, somewhere close to home.

When the shadow of the water tower had reached the pitcher's mound, Kevin hopped on his bike and pedaled out to the southern edge of town. Along the way, the houses went from colorful two-story Victorian ladies down to cheap ranch-style homes decaying behind dead lawns.

Jerm lived with his mother and older brother in the trailer park. The place was full of empty double-wides, high weeds, and garbage cans that always seemed full. The owner had worked at the big tractor factory in Peoria until he was laid off or fired, nobody knew exactly which. Now he sat out on his deck that overlooked the algae-choked pond at the front of the property, drinking beer and fishing. Fishing, in this case, consisted of watching a faded red bobber float listlessly in the green water all day and listening to the Cards games on the radio.

Kevin knew that Jerm lived here because he had once ridden along after his mom had picked him up from school. The owner had been trying to deliver an eviction notice, but Jerm's brother had threatened the man. Sandy had gone over to smooth things out, to try and work out a deal. She got the owner to give the family another month to pull together enough money, but it had never sat well with Jerm. He saw Chief Chisel as the one who wanted to evict the family. It didn't matter that Sandy had been trying to help the family out; Jerm was convinced that Sandy was responsible. Kevin had been left waiting in the front seat of the cruiser, and been in plain view when Jerm came storming out of the trailer. From then on, Kevin had been marked.

Kevin walked his bike along the fence line, ducking out of the owner's line of sight. He left his bike behind when he got close to Jerm's trailer and waited for any movement. There was still a chance that Jerm hadn't gone to school; he may not have been able to resist the temptation to stay home and play with his new toy.

After watching the trailer for a while, Kevin was satisfied that Jerm probably wasn't home. He ran across the little blacktop road and flattened himself next to the front steps. He waited a few seconds, hoping his heart would stop hammering in his chest just a little, then climbed the warped wooden steps, keeping his knees flexed and bent.

He saw that the front door was open, with only the screen door shut. The screen was full of rips that had been repaired at some point with gray duct tape. Now, the duct tape was curling up off the mesh from the summer heat, leaving gaps big enough that Kevin could stick his fist through. It didn't look like it did a very good job of keeping the mosquitoes out.

The breathless audience inside erupted in orgasmic applause yet again.

Kevin slowly twisted the screen-door handle, cranking the lever down. It clicked, and he eased it open, dreading squeaks and squeals. It swung open fairly silently, and he stuck his head inside the stifling heat of the trailer. It took his eyes a moment to adjust.

The noise from the TV came from off to the right, the front of the trailer. The kitchen was directly ahead of him, which meant the bedrooms waited to the left. He could only make out a few dark blobs from the living room. A couch or something was between him and the TV; he could only see the flickering blue light sizzle around the lumps of furniture.

Kevin stepped slowly inside, gently guiding the screen door shut behind him. He straightened, squinted at the TV. He still couldn't tell if anyone was up front or not. Part of the furniture grunted at something witty that the host had said, and Kevin realized that there was a very large woman sprawled on the couch. It was clear she was focused on the TV, and did not realize some ten-year-old kid had just stepped into her trailer.

Kevin felt his mouth go dry. He crouched, and moved in a kind of duckwalk back to the bedrooms. The first doorway on the left was the bathroom, and smelled worse than any Porta-Potty he'd ever used. He figured that the doorway at the end of the hall led to the mother's bedroom, and so that meant that the room off to the right was probably Jerm and his brother's.

He was right. Beer advertisements featuring bikini-clad women and
Playboy
centerfolds had been stapled to the fake-wood laminate walls. The single window had been covered with an old black sheet, anchored to the top of the window with thumbtacks. It kept the room in nearly total darkness. As his eyes adjusted, Kevin saw that the two beds were simply a couple of mattresses thrown into opposite corners. The brothers apparently shared a single dresser, built out of particleboard, but most of the laundry was scattered throughout the room. Kevin wasn't sure if he was more scared of running into Jerm, his brother, or the mother, but he still crawled into the room and started feeling around for the handgun.

Ten minutes later, he was convinced that Jerm had not hidden the gun in his room, and he really wanted to wash his hands. Kevin was disappointed, but not surprised. He didn't think Jerm would hide the revolver someplace where his brother might find it. Still, he had to try. He eased back into the hall.

The talk show had been replaced by some Hollywood gossip show. The dark shape in the flickering shadows of the TV moved. A thick, sleepy voice said, “Who's that?”

Kevin froze, blood coagulating into ice.

“Who is that?” the voice asked again.

“Just uh, looking for Jerm,” he croaked, staring at the stained carpet.

“He ain't here. He's at school.” A spark from a lighter. “You'll find him there.”

Kevin smelled sweet and sour smoke, like burning rotten fruit. He said, “Okay.”

The shape held her breath. Exhaled. “Be a sugar on the way out and make sure you close that screen door. Bangs when the wind blows if you don't click it just right. Drives me fucking nuts.”

“Okay, sure, no problem,” Kevin said, already through the doorway. He shut the door with a solid click, pushed against it to confirm the door handle had engaged the doorframe. He started down the steps. He had no idea where he was headed next. It didn't matter. He was too relieved to care.

He'd figure it out on his bike, once he was long gone.

A pair of hands so white they may have been wearing bleached latex gloves lunged out of the darkness under the trailer and yanked him off his feet. He tried to scrabble backward, but one of the hands closed over his shoe. Jerm's gray face swam into view. “What . . . Why are you here?” His voice sounded garbled, like his tongue was swollen.

“I . . . I . . .” Kevin couldn't form words, let alone explain himself.

Jerm didn't act like he heard anything anyway. His head lolled around on a loose neck, like it was too heavy to hold upright and still. Something was different about his face, but he kept it pulled back from the light, so Kevin couldn't get a good look. He kept talking, mostly to himself. “Thought I shot you at school already. Wanted everybody to see it.”

Kevin tried to pull his foot back, but the movement caught Jerm's attention. “Fuck are you doing here?” Jerm nearly shouted, yanking him deeper under the trailer. He leaned over Kevin, and in the dim light, Kevin could see that Jerm's skin had broken out even worse than usual. Much worse. Sticky-looking blackheads had exploded across his face, lining every crease and fold in the puffy skin. Jerm curled his lips back, revealing yellow teeth and a black tongue. His nostrils were plugged completely with solid-looking gray snot. And his eyes. Something was wrong with his eyes.

They bulged unnaturally, as though reacting to some uncomfortable inner pressure. Tiny gray buds were growing out of his eye sockets, near the inner corners, pushing the eyeballs out of the way. Kevin got the distinct impression that Jerm was looking in two different directions at once, and it was confusing the hell out of him.

“Thought I shot you already,” Jerm repeated. He reached down and when he pulled his hand back up into the faint light, Kevin could see Jerm was now holding his mom's Smith & Wesson. Jerm clicked the hammer back and it sounded so loud in the cramped, dusty shadows under the trailer that Kevin was worried his bladder might give out.

Kevin flopped flat on his back and kicked out frantically with his free foot, driving his heel into Jerm's chin and nose. The sole of his sneaker smashed against the blackheads, popping the ripe mounds, releasing a stinking black paste. Jerm grunted and let go of his other foot.

Kevin twisted and scrabbled toward the sunlight. He had nearly reached the edge of the shadows when he felt, rather than heard, some explosion behind him, and at the same time, a sledgehammer came down on the back of his head and darkness overtook him and he knew no more.

The Fitzgimmons were expecting Sandy. The front gate was wide open. She'd been toying with the idea of running along on a code 10-39, which meant full lights and siren, letting everybody know they needed to get the hell out of the way. Then, when she got closer, she could switch to a 10-40, running silent without lights and the siren. Sandy changed her mind because with the Fitzgimmons, sneaking in unannounced might be a good way to get shot. It was better to give them as much advance warning as possible.

Still, they wouldn't have been able to get the gate open in time if they were just now hearing the siren. They knew she was coming and were ready. She slowed to a more respectable speed and turned off the siren.

When she got closer she saw that the tow truck from the garage where Axel worked was hooked up to a white pickup. The back end was off the ground, and Sandy could see large ruts in the driveway where the pickup had tried to drive away. The pickup had a USDA logo on the door; the back was enclosed with multipurpose storage compartments, almost like something the vet drove around to ranches when he was checking on large animals. The driver was still inside the cab, waving frantically at her.

Edgar sat on the hood of the pickup; Axel was behind the wheel of the tow truck. Purcell was standing off in the shade of the oak trees. Sandy shut off the engine and climbed out, trying not to make it obvious she was looking around for Charlie. Purcell's truck was parked over by the barn, so Charlie had to be around somewhere.

Purcell stepped out of the shade and took his time meandering across the driveway.

Sandy stepped over to the pickup, said to the man inside, “Sir, would you mind stepping out of the vehicle?”

“You tell these psychos to unhook me and I'll think about it.” He looked to be in his fifties, with a neatly trimmed gray beard. His eyes had narrowed and he jabbed his finger in random directions to punctuate his words. “Fact is, I'll feel a whole lot better when you arrest all of them. You get them facedown on the ground in handcuffs and then I'll get out.”

Sandy turned to Purcell, who had gotten close enough to speak with. “Purcell. I'd been hoping I wouldn't have to be back here in a professional capacity so soon.”

“Chief.” Purcell gave her a nod in greeting.

“What's the problem?”

“What we have here, I suppose you could say, is a failure of communication. Charlie caught this man trespassing, so we decided to hang onto him until the proper authorities showed up.”

“I see. Did you call us?”

“Nah. Didn't see any point. Fella in there told us he was calling the cops a buncha times, so I figured that'd kill two birds, one stone and all that. And I knew you folks were busy with the funeral.”

Sandy resisted the urge to tell him it wasn't a funeral.

The guy from the USDA shouted through the windshield, “What are you waiting for? Arrest them!”

Sandy tried to open the passenger door. It was locked. “Sir, it would be much easier if you would just step out of the vehicle and we can all discuss this.”

“You know what they threatened to do to me? Do you have any idea of the kind of filth that comes out of their mouth?”

“We don't put up with trespassers on my property,” Purcell said. “You're awful damn fortunate we didn't just shoot you first, then call the chief.”

Sandy asked Purcell, “You say Charlie found him? Whereabouts?”

“Up in the north field.”

“We have to take samples if you want to be certified,” the USDA guy yelled. “What is wrong with you?”

Sandy and Purcell ignored him. She asked, “Any chance Charlie's around? Like to talk to him.”

“He's busy. He can talk later, if need be.”

“I'd like to talk to him now.”

Purcell hesitated. Sandy stepped closer, lowered her voice so the USDA guy in the pickup couldn't hear. “You and your boys are in some awfully deep hot water here. You want my help, you get Charlie out here now.”

Purcell put two fingers to his lips and gave a whistle that scared crows into the air at two hundred yards. Sandy figured her ears would be ringing until evening. It wasn't so much that she needed to interview Charlie immediately, but she wanted him in her sights so he wasn't sneaking up behind her again.

A few moments later, the barn doors creaked open and Charlie stepped out. He dragged a large chain across the door handles and snapped a padlock through the links. Sandy felt Purcell stiffen up beside her, and knew that Charlie had made a mistake. He shouldn't have made a big deal about locking the barn.

Now she was curious. She figured it probably was something that might compromise their chances of being certified organic, and filed the question away for later. Right now she had to deal with getting the USDA man off the farm without too much of a battle.

As Charlie sauntered over, shielding his eyes against the sun, Sandy's radio erupted. “Attention, all units. Attention, all units. Multiple reports of shots fired, Pleasant Prairie Trailer Haven. Repeat, multiple reports of gunfire. Please respond.”

Sandy froze. She knew she was at least fifteen, maybe twenty minutes away; all the officers covering the Morton service were much, much closer. As she reached for her radio, she heard Sheriff Hoyt's voice, “Ten-four. On our way.”

A flurry of other voices echoed Sheriff Hoyt. Sandy knew she should finish here first, then head into town to assist in any way possible. Still, she wanted to get there as soon as she could. She fixed Charlie with a cold stare and didn't waste any time. “Did you assault this man in any way?”

“Fuck no. He say that?”

“Did you threaten him with physical violence?”

Charlie scratched his head, shrugged. “Not that I remember exactly. All I did is stay between him and his truck until Axe got there with the tow truck. I might have mentioned a few things that could go wrong, him trespassing and all.”

She turned back to Purcell. “I'm doing my best to help you out, but you need to listen. This shouldn't be a surprise. You know damn well you cannot take this man and his vehicle hostage. Best you can do for yourself is turn him loose immediately. Longer you keep him up in the air like that, the worse he's gonna sue.”

That got Purcell's attention. “He can't sue me. He's the trespasser here. This is my property. Thought that would be clear as daylight.”

Sandy shook her head. “He's doing his job. You might as well have invited him over yourself.”

Purcell stuck his hands in his jeans and thought about it a moment. “What a pisser. Hard to get ahead when the game is rigged against you right from the start. Boys, you pay attention. There's a lesson to be learned here.”

Voices burst over Sandy's radio. “Shots fired! Officer down. Officer down.”

Sandy could not have cared any less about the argument between the idiots out at Purcell's farm, but it was her responsibility. It sounded like all kinds of hell was breaking loose in town, and she tried not to let the urgency show on her face. “Look, gentlemen. We need to wrap this up.”

Purcell nodded. “Axel. Let him down. Now. See if we can't work something out with the man.”

Axel didn't like it, but he flipped a lever and released the pickup all at once. The rear wheels crashed down, and the whole back end of the pickup bounced twice. Sandy knocked impatiently on the window. “Sir, you need to step out here now.”

“The hell I do,” the USDA guy said. “You people are crazy.”

Sandy said, “Next time, I'd research my clients a little closer. Might not be a bad idea to find out if they're liable to shoot trespassers on sight.”

Purcell leaned on the hood and waved through the windshield. “Sorry about this little mix-up. Hope this doesn't screw up our certification chances.”

“Fuck you!” the USDA man yelled and cranked the engine over.

Sandy's radio crackled. “Suspect is a young male. Thirteen to fifteen years of age. Armed and dangerous.”

A cold, spiky feeling grew in the center of Sandy's chest. She pulled out her cell phone and quickly found the contact number for Kevin's school.

The USDA man hit the gas and tore out of the driveway, spraying gravel in his wake. He barely missed Sandy's cruiser and was gone in a cloud of dust that hung in the air like a brown fog.

Sandy heard the prerecorded message and hit the button to speak with the office.

“District seventy-nine, how can I help you?”

“Hi, this is Sandy Chisel. I would like to speak with my son Kevin, please. He is in Mr. Humpher's math class.”

“One moment.”

Sandy turned to find Purcell and his sons watching her. At that moment, she had no idea what to say to the Fitzgimmon men.

The office secretary got back on the phone and said, “I'm sorry. Kevin is not at school today. His teacher reported him absent.”

Jerm could have sworn he'd already shot the little shit. Several times. That wasn't the only thing he was confused about. He had no memory of coming home last night. The last thing he remembered was that police cruiser whispering out of the darkness and scaring the shit out of him. There was something after that, something about hiding out in a big pipe, but then . . . nothing.

He couldn't tell if he'd been to school already. Wasn't sure if he'd taken the gun. Vague images of floating down the hallway, shooting a bunch of people, especially all those cocksucking teachers, drifted through his head. Something about putting the barrel of his new handgun between Kevin's teeth and pulling the trigger, watching the prick's brains splatter all over the lockers.

Was it real? Was it a dream? It was all getting kind of slippery.

Dream or not, the little fucker was dead now. At least, as best as he could tell. Jerm's eyes weren't working so well. Everything was sort of stretched from side to side. Nothing lined up like it used to. He'd felt and heard the gun going off, no question about
that
. But it wasn't like the memory of when he shot Kevin back in the school. There was no clear moment this time where he saw the back of Kevin's head explode.

He crawled forward. There. There was the punk-ass bitch. Sprawled out across the front sidewalk. Wasn't moving. Looked dead enough. Jerm shrank back. The light bothered his eyes. Daylight made everything—the headache, the weird shit going on with his vision, his memory—made it all worse.

He heard thumping in the trailer above. Heard his mom yell, “What the fuck was that?” She stomped over and kicked open the screen door. He heard her give a girlish little shriek when she saw Kevin's body. She came thundering down the front steps, yelling, “What happened? What the fuck happened?” She caught her breath and managed to bend over and peer into the darkness under the trailer. Jerm was surprised she'd gotten off the couch in the first place. She yelled at him, “What the fuck are you doing?”

Jerm didn't think. It was all a dream anyway. He felt curiously outside himself, as he was merely a casual observer, peering in through some dim windows at someone else's fantasies. Saw himself raise the handgun and squeeze off a round. His mom's face jerked, crinkled somehow, as if she'd just taken a big bite of a sour lemon, and her nose disappeared in a burst of red.

Blue gun smoke swirled hypnotically in the space between the light and shadow. He liked that. Took a breath, pursed his lips, and blew a stream of heat out into the smoke, creating a roiling vortex.

He'd be lying if he said that shooting his mom didn't feel awful damn good. He liked the weight of the gun. Liked how he could simply point the barrel, pull the trigger, and shit in his life went away. It made him feel so good that he crawled out of the darkness and out into the daylight. He didn't like how the light and heat had a sharp edge that peeled him open, but he wanted to feel that sensation again, to feel the gun jerk in his hands, watch the blue smoke circle his head, as he basked in the knowledge that he'd just erased more goddamn useless pain and bullshit from his life.

Jerm walked to the front of the Pleasant Prairie Trailer Haven. Saw that asshole Raleigh standing on his deck, yelling something. Jerm drifted closer, raised the Smith & Wesson. Watched the man's expression change from hatred to fear. Squeezed the trigger before the asshole could run back inside.

Raleigh spun, a sudden red flower blooming on his chest, and went crashing through his lawn chair before toppling off the deck into the pond. The wide-open blue sky came down and wrapped Jerm in a soft blanket and he sighed, perfectly content.

He wanted more.

He kept walking, straight down the street.

The blast of someone's horn shook him out of his reverie. He blinked and tried to look around. The world still wasn't falling into place like he hoped, but he could manage to make sense of the images his eyes fed his brain, however nonsensical they might look.

That was a dream for you.