Nemesis - 7. Chapter 7: Pink Cadillac

Pink Cadillac

Nemesis

Gary and I were in the living room. It had been snowing since we got back from the museum. Gary struck flame to the lighter pine, resinous kindling at the base of hardwood logs stacked on the andirons. He looked toward the couch where I sat, and grinned, as if pleased by this proof of his mastery of fire.

“Can I have a hug?” I asked.

“Actually,” Gary said. “I was hoping for a cuddle in front of the fireplace.”

It took me, like, zero time to get to Gary. We had a good cuddle. It had become easier to shunt aside the 46-year-old man and exist as a 12-year-old boy. More and more I was depending on Gary. Not just to feed me and keep me warm, but to comfort me. Like now.

“Did I do the right thing … killing that man, I mean?” I asked.

Gary already held me in his arms. He could hardly have hugged me any tighter. “Did you know what would happen?” he asked. His voice was soft, with no hint of blame.

“Not really,” I said. “I just reacted … if I thought at all, I thought I’d knock the baton out of his hand, maybe.”

“This is the first time you’ve used the sword,” Gary said. “Except to frighten away those fake US Marshalls. I never thanked you for that, by the way. Thank you.”

I managed to hide my surprise; I didn’t know he had seen … Gary was still talking.

“You couldn’t have known. And, you had only two choices: defend the boy and yourself, or leave the man free to hurt both of you, and then do again what he tried to do. I don’t believe this was a spur-of-the-moment thing for him. He was stalking the schoolboys; he knew about the emergency exit in the restroom.

“In this situation, there was no in between. I really don’t think you had a choice, really. You did the right thing.”

I didn’t know which felt better: Gary’s affirmation that I had done the right thing, or his strong arms holding me. All I knew was that I felt really, really good. Until I felt a call.

Gary and I waded through snowdrifts into an alley. He had taken me as far as his four-wheeler would go. I let Gary break trail through the drifts and crust of the snow, even though I was stronger than he was. It felt right for me to depend on him—and to make him feel that I needed him.

Gary called. “Here! They’re here!”

He picked up a little boy, perhaps eight years old. Gary opened his parka and pulled the kid close to his chest, trying to warm the little body. I brushed snow from the second one. I knew, even before I heard the crunch of tires on the snow, it was too late. The other boy—maybe six years old—was already dead. I turned and saw a black Mustang. I moved away from the body.

Death looked at the little body, and then reached—gently, I thought—into the boy’s chest and removed his soul. It was white and pure. Death lifted it above his head. It seemed to take wings and fly toward the sky.

“You two … you’re still together?” He addressed this question to Gary, who was struggling to zip up his parka with most of the little boy inside.

“Yeah,” Gary said. “It seems to be working.” Then he surprised me … and, I think, Death.

“How have you been?” Gary asked.

Death stood silently for what seemed a long time. Then, he said, “You do not fear me?”

Gary shrugged. “You have a job to do. I think I understand it, and I think I know what it is. I could never know the toll it must take on you.”

Death looked at him. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for understanding that. Please take care of Benji. He’s the one inside your coat. He’s got a lot of years to go, and he’ll miss his little brother, Jeffie.”

Gary nodded and then stuck out his ungloved hand. Death looked at Gary for a moment, took the offered hand, shook it, and then got back into his car and drove off.

“Wish I knew what kind of tires he had on that thing,” Gary said. I knew he was trying to lighten up the moment. It didn’t work; he knew it.

“Come on,” he said. “We need to get Benji home.”

Not “the” home, not “a” home, but, just, “home.” Gary understood the difference.

Death

He feels something, but he doesn’t remember. Maybe he never will. I remember, though. I remember them all.

There was nothing glorious about war. It was dirty, and it stank of the odor of men too long without bathing, of uniforms stained with sweat, of wounds festering, and of bodies rotting in ditches and under the thin soil of mass graves. A man lay in one of the ditches. He wore the uniform of the Army of the USA. His left leg was shattered. Blood pooled around his thigh. Too much blood. His body was shutting down.

I wore a uniform, too. Desert camouflage, like the man’s. Unlike his, mine was crisp, clean, starched. The creases were knife-sharp. I drove a HUM-V, but mine was black. They didn’t see me; they didn’t see me or the HUM-V until it was too late.

I stepped out of the vehicle and walked toward the man in the ditch, ready to take his soul. Before I reached him, a soldier with a red cross in a white circle on his armband jumped into the ditch. I watched the soldier wrap the man’s leg in a pressure bandage and then hook an IV to his arm.

I hesitated. It was for only a second, but that was enough. Perhaps it was the IV solution or the pressure bandage. Perhaps it was the unvoiced plea of the medic—the plea I heard: Please, please don’t let me lose another one!

I remembered the medic, too, and I knew who he was thinking of. Nine months ago. An 18-year-old soldier. Redhead. Looked younger. He had bled out, too. The medic got to him before his heart stopped beating, but it was too late. The boy was brain-dead. The memory haunted this particular medic. I pushed it aside. There were many worse memories.

I knew Mars was there long before I heard him striding across the battlefield. He and I exchanged glances. He spoke. I nodded. The heart of the wounded soldier continued beating. The brain that had been about to die from lack of oxygen woke, intact. The man opened his eyes. He saw the medic. He also saw Mars, me, and my HUM-V.

The man closed his eyes and lost consciousness. The scene had been burned into his memory, but it was a deep memory, one that would not easily be recovered.

Nemesis

The snow had gotten deeper. I followed Gary back to his car.

There was a pink Escalade parked behind Gary’s car. A grandmother wrapped in furs stood beside it. Dike sold cosmetics? No … it was like Death’s Mustang … the Escalade wasn’t real, not “real real” but just “god real.” Hard to explain. Wait a minute! I was a god! I wondered if I could get a car, too. I was thinking a cobalt blue BMW Z4. I think Dike sensed that. She looked at me, and frowned.

“Why did you drive here?” Dike asked. She didn’t say it aloud; I heard it in my mind.

I started to say because it was too far to walk, but stopped myself. The guy whose place I’d taken warned me not to piss her off. So, I tried to just look puzzled. Dike took my hands, briefly, and explained. Then, she spoke to Gary.

“I’m pleased that you are working together,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Gary answered. “Death seemed surprised, though. We need to get this kid home.” It was clear that Gary didn’t plan to take time to talk to Dike. She seemed to understand this.

“I’ll meet you, there,” she said. Gary nodded and said yes, ma’am again, and we got into his car. I drove. I was forgetting—or putting aside—a lot of what I knew as an adult, but I still remembered how to drive. Gary and I had learned that no one paid attention to us when I was driving … no one wondered why the driver looked so young. Gary turned the heater to “high.”

Benji

I wasn’t sure if I was being smothered, or cuddled, but it was one of those, for sure. I hoped it was cuddled. I heard a zipper, and saw light, and stopped worrying. For a minute, that is.

I was in a doctor’s office. There was an old lady who looked kind of like Arpie’s grandmother. There was a boy wearing a torn T-shirt. There was another kid in school clothes. And, there was a guy in a parka who was holding me. Tight. Warm.

What’s going on? Where is Jeffie? I panicked. “Where’s Jeffie? Where am I? Who are you?” I demanded.

“Benji, my name is Gary. I’m sorry, but Jeffie is dead. You are in a safe place. These people are friends: D … Candi, Nemesis, and Bobby.”

Jeffie’s dead! How can that be? I started crying. The man who was holding me kissed my cheeks and then handed me to the grandmother lady. Wow! She was strong. She cuddled me, and kissed my forehead, and after a while, I quit crying.

“I’m sorry, too, Benji,” she said. “But Jeffie wants you to be happy. We are your new friends, if you will let us be.” She looked at the man who had been holding me. I thought I saw something come out of her eyes. The man nodded.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “We are your friends, Benji.”

Gary

I thought it was coincidence that Bobby was on duty in the infirmary when we brought Benji to Erewhon. Bobby wasn’t expected to do much except call the nurse when somebody came in, and then help the nurse wash cuts and scrapes; it was one of the little jobs the boys of Erewhon could do to earn extra spending money.

After Dike looked at me, and I felt her concern for Benji, I figured it probably wasn’t coincidence. Somehow, Nemesis, Bobby, and I were linked. I had figured that out. Now, Benji was part of our … our circle.

Dike seemed surprised when I offered her coffee, but followed me to the staff lounge. The coffee had been on too long; the stink greeted us when we walked through the door. Still, I poured two cups and handed her one. “Creamer and sugar?” I offered.

She set down the cup. “Neither … and not the coffee, either. What’s on your mind?”

I was half afraid she was going to morph into her goddess form, but she didn’t. Barely.

“I’ve got a problem, ma’am,” I said. “What Nemesis and I did, tonight—rescuing Benji—that was right by any legitimate measure of rightness, except that which we humans live under.

“We took an 8-year-old boy out of a snowdrift and saved his life. I don’t know where he came from, or where he needs to go. We left his six year old brother dead in that snowdrift. Even if no one saw my car, I’ve got some explaining to do.”

I brushed my hair back. “Ma’am, I want to help Nemesis, and I want to help the thousands of kids who need help, but I’ve got to operate within human law. With Nemesis, that isn’t always easy. This isn’t the first time, either.” I explained about the two dead men.

Dike nodded, and pulled out her cell phone. She only pushed one button … it was someone on her speed dial.

“Hello, Ben, this is Judge Everhart. I know the snow has you busy, so I will be brief.” She spoke an address. “I received a call; I called a friend. We found one dead child, and one live one. We didn’t have time for the niceties. We brought the live child to Erewhon … Yes, he’s okay and they will notify Family Services … but we had to leave the … the other one. Will you handle that, please?”

There was a pause. Then Dike said, “Thank you, Ben. My friend is Garreth Walters … yes, Gary … yes, that one … certainly.”

She snapped the phone shut. “Ben Marlburg. Police captain. He will take care of Jeffrey’s body, and make sure the coroner doesn’t just dump him. It will be up to you to make funeral arrangements. You must also contact Family Services about Benji. Let Captain Marlburg know if you encounter any problems there or elsewhere. He knows who you are. Take his number … ”

Garreth

I was humbled. That’s the only word that works. I tried to tell Dike that, but she just patted my cheek and said I was a good boy. It was … disconcerting how she changed from goddess to Superior Court Judge to Jewish grandmother in the span of a few seconds. I think that’s part of why I was humbled … she had so many roles, and she managed to play them all well. Is Nemesis going to become like that? I wondered. I wasn’t sure how I’d deal with it if he were.

After she gave me the police captain’s phone number, she got a faraway look in her eyes, and then said, “Take this down.”

I grabbed my iPad and opened the UYH app. She spoke a name and address.

“That’s where the father lives. There is no mother. It’s not far away from where you found the boys. Tell Nemesis.”

I watched the goddess fade from her eyes. The Jewish grandmother stood. I rushed to help her from her seat, and she smiled. “Thank you, Garreth. You’re a good boy.”

She patted my cheek, again. Then, she disappeared. I don’t mean walked out. I mean vanished. I shrugged, and thought, at least Nemesis doesn’t pop out like that.

Dike

Garreth was becoming frustrated. I was afraid it would interfere with his work. He’d come to accept Nemesis. It would have been hard for him not to: Nemesis was a cute, 12-year-old boy who cuddled with Garreth, satisfying Garreth’s need for love—and, more important, his capacity for love—without creating guilt. Garreth had a little boy to love; Nemesis had a man who loved him. It was a good match. I knew it would be. Still, their relationship was not complete. It would continue to evolve as Nemesis changed to fit his role, and there would be problems.

Garreth accepting me less easily. On the other hand, he seemed to understand Death. I saw their meeting earlier today. Actually, I thought he and Death might become something more than just colleagues. And I knew that Death and Mars had made some sort of deal on that battlefield.

Was it time to tell Garreth about that? Perhaps, but first, I had to find out what the deal was.

Nemesis

Gary came back without Dike. I wasn’t surprised. I figured she’d translocated to wherever she lived. That’s what she’d explained to me, and why she was surprised we’d driven to find Benji. It’s something I could do. She said the guy I replaced should have told me. I shrugged, and said he’d been too anxious to leave. I asked what else he hadn’t told me, but Dike went back into grandmother mode, and just smiled.

Benji was settled with the staff. We promised that we’d visit him, soon. Bobby said Benji could sleep in his room until he found a roommate, and that seemed to cheer up Benji a lot.

Gary

Nemesis was quiet on the ride home; usually, he babbled when we were stuck in traffic, and the snow had done its usual job of snarling Chicago traffic. I tried to draw him out, but he answered my questions with grunts, so I shut up and concentrated on driving.

When we got home, I pulled out my iPad.

“Dike said to give you the name and address of Benji and Jeffrey’s father. The weather’s too bad to go there, now—”

“Not for me,” Nemesis interrupted. “Dike showed me something … I’ll be back.”

He disappeared, just like Dike had disappeared from the staff break room. No sparkles, no whoosh, no nothing. Just disappeared.

Nemesis

Gary was waiting when I popped back into the living room. He’d rekindled the fire. I’m glad he’s so strong. I would have hit the floor, hard, if he hadn’t grabbed me. He knew something was wrong. He carried me to the fireplace and cuddled me.

When I stopped crying, he kissed the tears from my cheeks. I felt his love so strongly. I got harder than I think I’ve ever been. I wanted to run my hands under his T-shirt … and down his sweat pants but … I was afraid. I’m still a coward, and I was so afraid I’d lose him.

“I killed him,” I said. “Jeffrey and Benji’s father. He chased them out into the storm. He told me he thought they’d stay in the apartment building … under the stairs or in the laundry room or with someone. But he was lying. He knew they were too afraid of what he’d do if he found them … he had … he had beaten them both … the little one when he dared ask for food; Benji when he tried to defend his little brother.

“I was angry, and I killed him. I stuck my sword in his chest, and he died. It wasn’t like the guy in the museum. I knew this one was going to die.”

Gary

I nodded, and kissed his forehead. “My little boy … ” We were both crying. I felt his tears. “My little Nemesis. Twice today. That’s too much … you should not have to bear this burden. I’m going to call Dike—”

“No!” Nemesis said. “We can’t! Please … ”

“Yes,” I said. “She understands that what is right must prevail. She must, then, understand that what is not right must be corrected. You said you were both retribution and justice. Is it justice that you suffer, so?”

Nemesis sniffled, and shook his head.

“Then, I’m going to call her first thing tomorrow.”

Nemesis

For the rest of the evening, we talked. We talked about what justice meant, and how that was different from retribution. I told Gary a little … a very little … about my journey through Hell. I had to stop because it made him so sad. We sat by the fire until it burned out. The cold ashes had no clues for us.

We did agree not to call Dike unless things didn’t get better. Before we left for bed, I told Gary that we were going to have to help Benji and that he was going to feel real guilty that Jeffrey was dead.

I was crying, again. Gary kissed away my tears again.

“We will. You and Bobby and I will help Benji … and, I think he’ll help us, too.”

He hugged me, again, and then …

“Nemesis?” Gary said. “I was worried when you disappeared. I was frightened. I didn’t know where you were. You could have told me … I could have gone with you … I would have taken you … my car’s got four-wheel drive … even in this snow … ” He was babbling, but I didn’t hear the words. All I heard was what he was thinking: I love you. I want to be strong for you. I want to help you, teach you. Please don’t ever leave me. Now, he was crying.

There was a warm feeling in my tummy that didn’t come from the dead fire. It grew until it filled me to the brim. It was what I had been waiting for all my life. I’d never felt it, before, but I knew what it was. I kissed tears from Gary’s cheeks and then said, “I love you, Gary. I love you so much! I want you to be strong for me. I want you to help me, to teach me. I will never leave you.”

Gary squeezed me harder, and kissed my cheeks. He didn’t kiss my lips, and I knew better than to try to kiss him that way. Someday, maybe, but not tonight. Tonight was for love.