Page 57 of Whistle
“And the truth is, in a lot of cases, thatiswhat happens. Dumb luck. Fate. Their number was up. But it doesn’t happen that way often enough. Bad luck sometimes needs a helping hand. It needs to beenabled. Hold still. Just a little more off the top.”
He ran the shears over Gavin’s head, more lengths of hair landing on the floor. He turned the shears off, stood back, and admired his handiwork.
“If I had a mirror I would hold it up for you,” Edwin said, “but it’s as neat a job as I’ve ever done, which is odd, considering that the others were in a more compliant condition at the time. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been at something. You can always improve.”
“Are you going to kill me?” Gavin asked.
Without hesitation, Edwin nodded. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
“If you let me go, I won’t tell anyone. Nobody, I swear.”
“But Gavin, I need you. You’re material. It’s a two-step process, you see, and it’s ongoing. The layout there loses its potency without new material.”
“What were those bones? In that bin?”
Edwin chortled. “Those are bones. In a bin.” He frowned. “And, as you may have noticed before you nodded off, not nearly enough. There’s more work to do. And I would imagine your bones are every bit as good as your hair.”
“What are you talking about? What two-step process?”
Edwin thought about the question. “The first step in the process is to build my creation here. Sourcing the right materials. Like yourself, and others, or animals, or personal items I have liberated from people and worked into the project. The bones are like framing. The blood for coloring. The hair for grasses. A lost comb is fashionedinto a miniature rake. A pen is an electric pole. That way, it all becomes veryorganic. You see what I’m saying?”
Gavin, trying to buy some time, but also, despite overwhelming fear, undeniably curious, asked, “Like a living thing?”
Edwin laughed. “Well, not quite. But made up of whatwasliving, and what wasattachedto the living. That’s what gives it its essence, and when it has that, then I can run the trains through it, so thattheycan absorb that essence. It’s all very technical. I hope I’m not boring you.”
“No, go on. Tell me more. I’m... I’m interested.”
Edwin smiled, understanding that Gavin was trying to buy time. But he took pleasure in explaining what he did. “Quality control has always been something of an issue. It can be difficult to measure how much each train has absorbed, how much happenstance it carries, so you send it off into a household and you don’t know what you’re going to get. Will Mom get a simple paper cut, or will she fall down the stairs and break her neck? Will a toddler get his finger caught in a drawer or end up at the bottom of the pool? But something will happen, and that’s what matters.”
Edwin dropped into his chair again and crossed his legs. “I’ve been at this a long time. Have my own area of specialty. There are lots of us out there, working in the sliver. Finding our own ways to insinuate ourselves into people’s lives.” He smiled, waved an arm at his handiwork. “I chose this. It works for me. It meets... a creative need. Not that there aren’t other ways to go about it. And I’ll admit, I’m a bit tired. You might be inclined to think that someone—something—such as myself lives forever. That those of my ilk never die. That we have always been and always will be. Well, that’s simply not true, my friend. I wouldn’t mind turning over the business to someone else one day, but you need the right candidate. Theywouldn’t have to do it with trains. Art, perhaps. A lovely painting you could hang on your wall that made the magic happen.”
Edwin ran his hand over his face wearily. “I’ve made some mistakes lately. Getting older. I was sloppy with Mr. Tanner. Shouldn’t have left him at the side of the road where what was left of him could be found. I did better with Mr. Hillman. He’s over there, by the way.”
Edwin pointed to an outcropping of rock—about the size of a melon—that popped out of a hillside. It had, if this was possible, a kind ofprofileto it.
“Oh Jesus,” said Gavin.
Edwin leaned in close so he was almost nose to nose with Gavin. “I don’t expect this to give you a lot of comfort at a time like this, but you should know that you are part of something important. Something bigger than yourself. Something almost... cosmic. Am I getting through to you at all?”
“I—I could be your assistant. I could help you. Get what you needed. I could—I could work on the trains. I’m good at construction. Or—or I could be the one to take over for you. So you could retire. What about that?”
“As tempting an offer as that is, I’m afraid I’m going to have to say no. You don’t have what it takes. One day, the right person will come along, but it’s not you. I’m glad we had this chance to chat, but I must finish up.”
The lights flickered briefly.
Edwin looked at Gavin apologetically. “Still a few glitches tapping into the town’s network. Don’t want an electric bill that attracts too much attention, do we?”
The lights stopped their flickering, then gave up altogether, plunging the room into complete darkness. A red-tinted, battery-poweredemergency light tucked up into the corner of the room came on, casting a dim, blood-like glow for five seconds before power was restored and the lights came back on.
But during those five seconds, how Edwin Nabler presented himself to Gavin was altered. He was no longer that pixieish man in his silly railroad vest, but something else altogether. Silhouetted against the red light, he was a different shape. Taller, but round-shouldered. A face that seemed to have grown a snout, and were those... whiskers?
The lights flashed back on.
Edwin appeared just as he had before. But there wasonething different about him this time. He no longer had hair clippers in his hand. He was wielding something shiny. And sharp.
Gavin began to scream.
Nineteen
