“My daddy kills weasels when he goes hunting. He says they’re vermin. Maybe I should get his shot gun and blow your head off!” I screamed like a man possessed and tried to scramble away from them, but like it always was in dreams when you were terrified, I felt like I was running in quicksand, and the zombie children were creeping ever closer.
“Bess! Bess! Where are you? I’m frightened!”
The children began to sing.
You killed us, but we’ll never leave, we’ll torture you forever. Shoot a bullet in your head, pop goes the weasel!
“Caspian! Over here!” Bess was waving frantically at me from the trees. I tried to concentrate and used all of my strength to escape. All of a sudden, I fell to my knees, wincing as the gravelly ground dug through my pajamas into my kneecaps. The children were no longer there and now I was at some train tracks, on a disused stretch of line. Rusty dilapidated carriages were abandoned on the disused sidings, left to rot. I shivered. The place felt ominous and unwelcoming. I heard shouting and screaming in front of me and there, like I was watching a forbidden movie wasSavannah laying in the dirt, being raped, spat on and degraded by my parents and several other members of our prestigious community. I spotted Briar’s parents and also several other parents from kids in my class. Fuck! Now I knew who they all were. I was rooted to the spot in shock for a moment. Then I blundered into the fray, but my hands passed through them like they were holograms. I tried and tried to pull them off of Savannah, but it was no good. All I could do was watch her being raped and stabbed. When it was over, I crouched down, staring at the semi-conscious bloodied girl and gently touched her face, even though my hand passed right through it.
Then I became angry, pounding the ground with my fists until my knuckles were scuffed and bleeding. Bess wriggled out from under one of the old carriages, sniffling and trembling like a terrified child. I picked her up and rocked her, trying not to baulk at the stench of her singed hair.
I woke up trembling and freaked out when I discovered that I wasn’t in bed, but laying in the dirt next to the train tracks, Bess nestled into my chest.
“Fuck!” I said in anguish, as I staggered around trying to get my bearings, wincing as I stood on sharp stones in my bare feet. I saw my Land Rover parked just ahead and realized that I’d driven there. It was a wonder I wasn’t dead. I could hear the ghost giggling and wailing of dead children coupled with Savannah’s screams for mercy. I put my hands over my ears and screwedmy eyes shut.
“Leave me alone! Get out of my head!” I howled. Overtaken by a rush of guilt, I got into my car and drove to the police station, getting several concerned glances as I wandered in dressed in my pajamas, looking disheveled and wired. I approached the thin, pockmark skinned officer in the creased uniform, who was slumped over his desk that was littered with files.
“I’ve come to turn myself in,” I said defiantly.
“What for?” he said, in a bored tone.
“I set fire to the bus that killed all those school kids.”
“Haha, no you didn’t,” he said in a vicious tone, “if this is a prank it’s not fucking funny.”
“But I did officer!” I exclaimed.
“Look, get your ass out of here. We know who did it. They’ve been charged,” he snarled, getting up, scraping his chair across the floor and gripping my arm to lead me out.
“But who was it?”
“Check the papers. It will be front page news.” Perplexed, I left the station and drove home. My mom came running out of the door when I parked up.
“Caspian! Thank goodness! I was worried! Come on come inside and let Florian fix you some breakfast.” Why the fuck was my mom so uncharacteristically worried about me lately?
“I don’t want any breakfast mom, I just want to grab ashower,” I said, walking upstairs and turning my back on her. She was up to something; I was sure of it.
“Nevertheless, you shouldn’t be wandering around at night in your pjs barefoot. I will ring Doctor Phelps and get some sleeping tablets for you.”
“OK, whatever,” I said as I reached the top of the stairs.
* * *
Later that day, I went and grabbed the daily paper. The headline jumped out at me,Jilted Lover Massacres Innocent Children…According to the article, the bus driver was having an affair and when he ended it, she went psycho and decided to murder him and the bus full of kids. They found her wandering around, her clothes soaked in vodka and the blood of Miguel the driver. Man, that was all bullshit. I didn’t know what occult forces were in play to get me off the hook, but I believed that I had killed those kids, well, the weasel had. But had I just dreamt it? Feeling as always, totally confused and at the brink of mental collapse, I went back home.
* * *
“Your mom gives great head,” Sawyer Pellegrino said, as he lit a cigar. He was sitting smugly at my dad’s old desk. He had called me into the office at the top of a glittering glass skyscraper in Hartford. I hated being in the city. There was too much noise and activity. I much preferred the leisurely pace of the suburbs andthe coast.
“Huh?” I said, feeling appalled.
“She came in a couple of days ago, angling to get me to convince you to sign the company over to her once you hit eighteen,” he said, clearly enjoying the drama of it all the prick.
“Did you tell her about our deal?” I asked, realizing why my mom had been so motherly to me lately, to butter me up.
“No of course not. I thought I‘d give you the honor. Anyway, you just have this last document to sign and then the money can begin the process of being transferred to your bank. What a great birthday gift!” Sawyer chuckled. I grinned, saccharine like, fighting the urge to let the weasel out to cut the smarmy smile off of his face.
“There’s no way I’d ever sell dad’s company to my mom. She would never give me a deal like you have; she’d expect it at a discount. Plus, I would never let her have that sort of success. My dad left her everything, she’s not having his company too,” I said as I signed my name with a flourish. I didn’t love either of my parents, but I hated my mom more. There was no way I was going to let her and Youri turn the sports network into some pompous channel to chatter about “feelings.” Oh well, another reason that when the time came I wouldn’t give a fuck about making my mom pay.
