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Globs of fluorescent orange swirled about, listlessly colliding with each other before separating again to further swim through the illuminated red fluid, fated to collide again and again in a hypnotic and dazed cycle of malaise, and as Laura Merlbann stared at the lava lamp, she had an epiphany.
I’m in the same loop as that lava lamp, aren’t I?
The ‘special remedy’ joint she had smoked had fully kicked in, so that meant the blaring Van Halen LP wasn’t any more to her than white noise, nor was the rattling heater. Nothing could break her gaze. She was comfortably numb, thrusted forward and back and unphased by the grunting behind her until it stopped abruptly, with David waving a hand in front of her.
“Babe, you okay?”
“Yeah, why? What happened?”
“What hap- I... I asked you where you wanted me to finish and you... Nevermind.” David jumped off the bed and hurried into the bathroom.
Laura just kept staring at the lava lamp, unaware of the minutes passing until David returned and handed Laura her shirt and panties.
“This is why I asked you if you were sure,” He walked over to the record player and lifted the needle. “I knew it was a bad idea.”
“I’m sorry,” She sluggishly put her underwear on. “You could’ve just came. It’s okay, I wouldn’t have cared.”
“That’s the point, though, Laura. You don’t care about anything right now.” David lit a joint and took a hit. “And I get it, right, but like... Look, the shit you’ve been through? Man, no one knows how to help you with that, and obviously this isn’t the solution.”
“It’s not not the solution, either,” She pulled her shirt down and took the joint out of his hands. “I’m just living, man. Besides, I thought guys didn’t care, as long as girls say okay.”
“No, I care, I care about you. I picked you up tonight to help take your mind off of things, enjoy Richie’s new stuff, but I didn’t realize... Look, have you maybe thought about speaking to Mrs. Furman?”
“Our old guidance counselor?” Laura retrieved her jeans from the floor. “We graduated well over a year ago. Like hell I’m going back to talk to that old hag. I’m not that fucked up.” Once her jeans were on, she reached for her boots. “Look, I’m not going to be making any sense any time soon, so don’t be expecting me to be kissy kissy woo woo, alright?”
“Alright.” David folded his arms. “I’m here, okay? You know that, right?”
“I know you’re here. That’s why I came here,” She threw on her winter coat. “And that’s why I’m going.”
David skidded across the apartment, trying to beat her to the door. “You want me to drive you home?”
Laura scoffed. “It’s Kokomo, Indiana, David. Not Haddonfield. I’ll be fine.”
“Haven’t you heard the news about the cemetery?”
Laura’s face was expressionless.
“Seriously?” He weaved his head trying to make eye contact with her as she tried to get around him. “You sure?”
She stopped, looked straight at him, offered a faint smile, then brushed past him and opened the door. “See you around.”
The frigid night air passed right through her coat and chilled her skin, hampering the ‘special remedy’s’ goal of keeping her serene. As she trudged through the snow to the sidewalk, oblivious to her bell bottoms getting soaked, she began to realize how exhausted she really was.
Maybe I should’ve taken the ride.
As she cut through the empty Woolworth parking lot across the street, Laura passed a newspaper dispenser at the corner, catching the headline. ‘Worst of all killers in custody.’ Mugshot below said his name was John Wayne Gacy. No question he’s a piece of shit, but worst of all? He’s not the reason my brother’s gone. Clutching her coat sleeves tight, she pressed on at a faster pace. The church around the corner signaled the beginning of her neighborhood. The sign out front read ‘Do you know where your children are?’ Laura and her friends used to ridicule the sentimentality. Now she loathed it. Doesn’t matter where they are if their mothers are nutjobs.
Wherever it is, it’s safer.
Normally the four streets between the church and home were not the best lit, but Christmas lights adorning almost every rooftop along the road helped compensate for the weak streetlights. With each step the snow crunched under her feet, and the sound seemed amplified by the absence of any other activity. Instinctively she second guessed if perhaps she should walk gingerly, but she didn’t care. She might wake up neighbors but so what? Coming home in the middle of the night three months ago and my parents would’ve called the police in a panic. But now...
She stopped in front of the only house not decorated for the holidays. Her house.
Maybe I don’t go in. Maybe I keep walking. Don’t look back, just... just march on down south until I get to Miami.
Laura stared at the front window where, in previous years, passers-by could glimpse the family’s ornamented tree. For a brief moment, she pictured herself next to the tree, wrapping silver tinsel around her younger brother. As a tear rolled down her cheek, Laura fished her keys out and continued forward to the front door.
A burst of warm air greeted her as she entered the house, though it was the only thing that greeted her. Laura’s father, usually passed out on the couch in a drunken stupor, was absent.
She set her purse down on the kitchen counter, next to a small pile of newspapers. The headline of the more recent edition on top read ‘Grave Robbers in Kokomo.’ Underneath it was an older newspaper, one her father refused to trash despite Laura’s pleas. The headline read ‘Mass suicides in Jones cult.’ As she stared at the photo of Jim Jones underneath the headline Laura felt her hand tense. The temptation to rip the paper to shreds and purge it from their house was about to overtake her when she heard a loud knocking at the front door. Oh my God! Who would be knocking in the middle...
Dad.
Laura answered the door, then quickly stepped back as her father tumbled forward, almost knocking over the coatrack.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Her father slurred.
“Likewise.” She got a better look at her dad’s face and noticed he had a black eye. “What the hell happened?”
“He got into it with a regular asshole,” said a tall, bearded man standing behind her father. “Jerk who was spouting off about cult victims deserving it and, well...”
“Piece of shit almost got a broken glass shoved down his throat.”
“Dad!”
“I told him to head home hours ago.” The Bartender said. “So, maybe if he had? Yep. Anyways, once it was time to close up, he left me no choice but to drag his ass here. Besides, with all that’s been going on, I wanted to keep an eye on him.”
“I take it you’re the Bartender?” Laura asked.
“Right now, I’m just a concerned friend.”
“Well, I don’t need a friend,” Laura’s father tried walking to the kitchen. “I need a drink.”
“No, you need to lay down and sleep it off, dad.” She tried to take his hand and steer him away from the fridge.
The Bartender took the other arm and helped Laura escort her father down the hall to the master bedroom. “Just a few more steps...” Once they reached the doorway, they both let go and Laura’s father nosedived into his bed. The Bartender let out a sigh of relief. “He’ll be fine in the morning, kid.”
“Sure. Then he’ll be back in your place by sundown. Wash, rinse, repeat.” Laura walked the Bartender back to the front door. “At least I know where to find him. Or jail I guess if another fight breaks out.”
The Bartender adjusted the coatrack. “Before that asshole opened his mouth, your dad was telling me about a time the four of you had gone on a road trip to SeaWorld.”
“Really? That was like four years ago.”
“Doesn’t matter. What matters is he actually smiled for a moment.” He buttoned up his coat as he reached for the door. “I think remembering... look, grief is a complicated process, but the talking helps, I think. And if you ever need a good ear, I won’t ask to see your ID.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Anyways, thanks for bringing him home.”
“No problem. Well... Uh...” The Bartender cleared his throat. “Merry Christmas.”
Laura nodded gently and closed the front door behind him. He probably means well and all but talking won’t change anything.
It won’t bring Brian back.
With that thought looming in her head, she trudged towards the hallway, stopping in her tracks for a moment. A morose and sinking sensation traveled through her body, like perhaps the last iota of her heart had left. Laura turned her head towards the hallway closet. She opened it and reached up to the top shelf, feeling around until cold metal touched her skin. She pulled down her dad’s Smith & Wesson and just stared at it for a moment. She remembered the day her dad brought it home, he was rambling about two men arrested in Rockville for killing a schoolteacher and her four-year-old son. He said to them all that the gun was ‘a responsibility to protect each other from being taken away by evil.’ Laura grinned her teeth. Mom and Brian were still taken away from us, by evils we couldn’t shoot bullets at. So maybe... maybe it’s for stopping a different pain... The sinking sensation intensified, and for a brief moment, she almost felt as if she was holding the answer. Laura closed her eyes.
It still won’t bring Brian back.
She replaced the gun onto the top shelf where it was kept and headed for her bedroom.
On the way to her bedroom, Laura felt compelled, as she was every night of the past two months, to stop in Brian’s room. It remained as he last left it. Worn socks piled in the corner, Star Wars figures on the floor and comic books spread out on his bed. Laura made sure not to crush any Jawas under her feet as she crossed to the bed, lifting up the comics before sitting down. She stared at the cover of the top book, an issue of Detective Comics with The Joker holding two fish like they were guns. The Laughing Fish? God, he loved this dopey stuff.
As she set the comics down on the nightstand, she noticed the stuffed penguin next to his pillow. It was his souvenir from their trip to SeaWorld. Laura remembered teasing him on the way home, threatening to drop the penguin out the window if Brian didn’t share his candy with her. He was so gullible.
She couldn’t hold back anymore. Tears began to flow steadily, so she took the penguin and held it close as she laid her head on the pillow.
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KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
Laura lifted her head off the pillow and mumbled gibberish to herself.
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
She forced her eyes open, and, after realizing she had cried herself to sleep in her brother’s room, stumbled to her feet and trudged out of the room. She peered down the hall to see her father’s room was empty.
You better be at work, dad.
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
Doubt began to race through Laura’s mind. Should I go get dad’s gun?
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” As she reached the living room, Laura brushed the hair out of her face. Second thought, it has to be dad. I mean, who the hell else would be coming here so early... The clock on the wall read half past twelve. Nevermind.
When she opened the front door, a tall man sporting a black eye and dressed in a leisure suit stepped back. Seeing Laura disheveled and half awake, he chuckled nervously as he scratched his blonde mustache. “Apologies for dropping by like this unannounced, but I’m looking for Richard Merlbann?”
“It’s lunchtime on a Friday, man. He’s at work.”
“That’s right, he did say he found work.”
“And you are?”
“Oh, where are my manners? Russell Orcen.” He offered Laura his hand. “Your father and I met last night at the bar.”
Laura refused to shake his hand. “Where he gave you the black eye for talking shit about my family?”
“Yeah, that... uh, that was taken out of context. I proposed something to your father and he was not particularly receptive.”
Laura arched her eyebrow.
Russell chuckled nervously again. “May I come in?”
Laura shook her head no.
“Fair enough. Let me ask you this: What would you do if he could come back?”
“My dad? He’ll be back later. Eventually.”
“No, I meant Brian. Your brother.”
The SeaWorld memory having been so recently recalled, Laura felt her heart skip a beat. “Excuse me?”
“If there were a way to bring him back to you, is there anything you wouldn’t do?”
I’d do anything. I’d switch places with him in a heartbeat if I could. But this is reality. Laura pointed to the sidewalk. “Get the hell out of here before I beat your crazy ass-”
“I’m not crazy,” Russell put his hands up. “Just hear me out, okay. I know it sounds... I know how it sounds, actually. I may not look it, but I’m a bit older than you may think, and I have seen and heard things you wouldn’t believe. And I know a lot.”
“Bullshit.”
“I know that when the Central Indiana Chrysler Corp transmission plant in Kokomo laid off 600 workers your father was one of them. I know the stress it put on him, the stress it put on everyone, including your mother.”
She folded her arms. “That happened to a lot of people in this town.”
“Yes, but only your mother felt desperate enough to reach out to her old friend in San Francisco. June, her name was? Ran off years ago, enamored with a certain man named Jim Jones.”
As the man on her porch forced her to relive the events, Laura felt her stomach churn. I’m not doing this right now...
“And although they were states away, June preyed upon your mother’s vulnerability, feeding her Jones’ rhetoric. Your father eventually found work, but it was too late. Your mom had been indoctrinated, and when Jones’ cult-”
“Don’t.”
Russell cleared his throat. “Your brother deserved better...”
Laura started picturing him in her head. When she’d flick his ears... when they’d make goofy faces at each other... when he’d make her laugh.
“He was too young, too trusting of your mother-”
“Stop!” Laura screamed with tears cascading down her cheeks. “Please, just stop.” She braced herself in the doorway, trying not to lose her balance as she wept. God, why did you let this happen to him?!
Russell took her hands, helping her stand. “This grief... this pain, it isn’t the type that time heals. People have to carry it for the rest of their lives. But you don’t have to. Not if you let me help you.”
Reluctantly, she looked into his eyes. He seemed sincere. “It’s impossible.”
“It’s the Season of Miracles, Laura. Anything’s possible if you want it enough. And I know how bad you want Brian back.” Confident she was stable, Russell reached into his leisure suit’s inside pocket and produced a card. “If you change your mind, I’m at this address. You can stop by any time of the day, I’ll be there.”
As he started to leave, Laura wiped her cheek. “If I change my mind... You said you proposed something to my dad, asked what I wouldn’t do... but you didn’t say what exactly.”
Russell turned around for a moment. “All I need is a totem of Brian, something you associate with him. The rest? Call it magic.” He flashed a smile and was on his way.
Laura took a deep breath. What a weird fucking morning... She looked at the card. Nocimo Books and Records. A new record store I missed? Huh.
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“I can’t believe Keith Richards actually confessed to holding.” Laura’s friend Richie was dumping out a Nehi fruit punch can. “Like, why, man? You don’t tell the fuzz you have heroin.”
“Who cares?” David shook his head. “The Stones are lame anymore.”
Every Saturday after work, Laura always wound up in the Wendy’s parking lot to meet with David, Richie and Laura’s best friend, Jamie, usually as a pit stop before whatever Saturday night plans Jamie had come up with. Saturday, Wendy’s, like clockwork. Christmas weekend was no different.
“Alice Cooper’s slouching too, man,” Richie was lighting a cigarette. “Not digging From The Inside.”
“What, were you out to lunch,” Trying not to drop her French fries, Jamie waved her hand in front of Chris. “It’s a concept album. He’s got holdups from drinking too much, and being in an asylum, too. I think it’s smart music.”
“I’m with Richie. Cooper was better before, when he was still lit.” David glanced down at the Nehi can Richie was flicking his cigarette ash into and David started to giggle. “Dude, I don’t think he likes your ash.”
Richie looked down at the Nehi can and realized there was a Happy Days logo and an image of Tom Bosley smiling on the side of the can. Richie started laughing. “Mr. Cunningham can eat my ash!”
Once both young men erupted into hysterical laughter, Jamie hopped up and tossed her trash into the can at the curb. “Bunch of nitwits,” she said as she tapped Laura’s shoulder. “We’ll be back.”
“Where you going?” Richie was trying to stop laughing. “The movie starts at ten.”
“Seriously? Ladies room.”
“Okay, well hurry up,” David finished his cigarette. “It’s gonna take us a few to drive over to Markland.”
Richie was still giggling. “Yeah, when we went to see Animal House we missed the beginning because you were like redoing your makeup.”
Jamie flashed Richie the middle finger as she started walking towards the restaurant.
Laura went to follow, but stopped next to Richie. “Hey, man. Do you have any more of that ‘special remedy’ leftover?”
Unsure what to say, Richie looked over at Jamie.
Jamie took Laura’s hand and pulled her towards Wendy’s. “Come on.”
As the two young ladies neared the restaurant door, Laura caught David watching her as she went inside. He’s not going to let last night go...
“Ok, spill,” Jamie shoved Laura into the bathroom. “What happened last night?”
Laura sighed. “What did he say?”
“It’s what he didn’t say, other than he’s giving you space. Now spill. What happened?”
“Nothing. I just wasn’t... feeling it.”
“Feeling what? Anything?” Jamie looked in the mirror to adjust her hair. “This isn’t healthy, girl. You can’t turn yourself off from everything. That doesn’t fix anything. Fucking will, and if there’s a horse you can hop on in this town, you hop on it.”
Laura leaned against the wall. “It doesn’t help, sorry to say.”
Jamie grinned. “Then find yourself a different horse.”
The horse isn’t the problem. “I’m not like you,” Laura fished a hair tie out of her purse and angrily put her hair up. “And besides, I know you’re trying to help, but you have no idea at all what I’m going through.”
“No, I don’t,” Jamie looked at her friend with enraged concern. “But I know closing yourself off from life isn’t the answer. Keeping stuff pent up... That’s what leads people to assholes like Jim Jones in the first place.” Before Laura could retort Jamie took her hand. “Richie, David and I are worried about you, okay? You can’t blame us for wanting to keep an eye on you, plus things are getting weirder all the time. I heard someone’s grave robbing now. Insanity.”
Sniffling, Laura shook free of Jamie’s hand. “I’m okay.”
“Listen, we’ve been friends for how long, huh? Trust me, please, when I say if there’s anything that’ll make you happy, no matter how ridiculous, do it. Take a risk, and you’ll feel alive. And if you feel alive, it’ll be like Brian’s with you.” Jamie saw Laura staring off. “Okay?”
Laura nodded.
“Alright,” Jamie looked back in the mirror to fix an eyelash. “Let’s get out there before they have a fit.”
Jamie and Laura zipped their coats back up as they went outside. Once the guys saw them, Richie started up his van so, once they both climbed in, he could dart out of the parking lot. When Jamie and Laura got in, the guys had moved on from records to movies.
“X-Wings looked real. This, I don’t know, man. A dude flying?” David shook his head. “You can’t turn comic books into real movies.”
Laura completely forgot they were seeing Superman. She immediately pictured her brother on his bedroom floor, flipping through his comics.
“Yes, you can. Just you wait. Afterwards, you’ll change your tune. Even Laura’ll like it.”
“Yeah, I’m...” David looked back at her. “I’m surprised you’d want to see this...”
Jamie saw Laura wasn’t paying attention and tried answering for her. “She’s seeing it for Brian. Right?”
Laura nodded.
“That’s cool, man.” Richie said. “I don’t know if I’d see Grease for my sister, though. That music is poppy garbage, and I swear if I hear that record one more time-”
“Hey, Richie, you’ve been to every record store around here, right?” Laura asked.
“Probably every store in the state, sister.” Richie proudly responded as he pulled the van into the mall’s parking lot.
“Have you heard of Nocimo Books and Records? Just opened?”
“Nah. Never heard of it. You gonna scope it out? Cause if you do, let me know if they have AC/DC Powerage. My copy got wasted and I need a new one.”
“No, haven’t scoped it out yet. But I think I will.”
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Every building on the street was darkened, abandoned or in disarray, most having suffered damage from the Palm Sunday tornado a decade earlier. All except one lone building, Nocimo Books and Records. The lights from the store sign and from inside the establishment were casting an unsettling glow onto the sidewalk snow at Laura’s feet.
What am I doing here?
For two hours, Laura had sat in the theater, watching Christoper Reeve fly about in spandex, all the while stifling tears as she thought of Brian. It was almost one in the morning by the time Richie had dropped Laura off at her house. She hurried inside, hoping not to wake her father who had passed out on the couch watching Fantasy Island. She went straight to Brian’s room and grabbed the stuffed penguin, then quickly left the house. The entire walk she was questioning the rationale of running off in the middle of a December night with a toy to give it to a stranger in an unknown record store. Yet she still went, emotionally drained and wrought, holding her brother’s stuffed penguin close to her chest and standing outside Nocimo Books and Record in the earliest hours of Christmas Eve.
The season of miracles...
As she approached the door, she could hear muffled music from inside. Although the ‘Sorry, We’re Closed’ sign hung in the window, the door was unlocked. Laura stepped inside the vacant storefront. Rows of vinyl and shelves of books lined the walls but no one was on the sales floor. She slowly continued towards the counter, the lyrics of Only Yesterday being played in the backroom growing louder with each step.
“...Only yesterday when I was sad and I was lonely you showed me the way to leave the past and all its tears behind me...”
Laura stopped at the counter. From there she could almost see into the backroom, but the only thing she saw past the doorway looked like a bowling trophy on a table. “Hello?”
A moment later, Russell rounded the table and emerged from the backroom, still dressed in the blue leisure suit. “Hello, Miss Merlbann,” He glanced at his watch. “Mighty late for you to be out on the town.”
“You said... you said any time...”
“That I did,” Russell took notice of her puffy eyes... and the penguin toy she was embracing. “Was that Brian’s?”
Laura sniffled as she looked at the penguin. “I... I used to tease him that he had it... but the truth was... our parents fought the whole trip. And I bought this for him to distract him... cheer him up, you know? And even as he got older, he still kept it. And I never considered what it meant... what I meant to him...” As she looked down at the toy again, she found that she couldn’t hold it back anymore. She was sobbing uncontrollably. “Can you really bring him back?”
Russell gently laid one hand on her shoulder. “Yes. Yes, I can.” He then opened his other hand and reached for the penguin.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, Laura took one last glance at the stuffed animal and handed it over to him.
“Tomorrow morning, you’ll wake up to the greatest Christmas present you’ll ever receive, Laura Merlbann.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, go home and get sleep,” Russell escorted Laura to the front door. “It’s very late. You don’t want to worry your father.”
He’d have to be sober to be worried.
Laura stepped outside and waved goodbye as Russell locked the door behind her. She watched as he rescinded into the backroom and turned off the sales floor lights. Now the only lights on the street were the dim street lamps above. Laura looked up at the moon and closed her eyes.
Brian...
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“...and thirty-five cents is your change.” Laura dropped the coins in the woman’s hand and handed her the bag. “Have a nice day.”
“You, too, dearie. Merry Christmas.”
Yeah, we’ll see.
With no other customers in her line, Laura leaned back and took a sip of the Shasta she stowed on the shelf underneath the register, then withdrew her tattered copy of The Amityville Horror from the same shelf. She turned to where she left off but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t focus on the words. She looked over her shoulder and checked the wall-mounted clock above the exit door. Twelve after three. Less than an hour before I can get out of here. I probably should stop at Kentucky Fried Chicken before they close. Otherwise, dad and I’ll be eating grilled cheese for Christmas...
“...why would you believe something like that, mom?” An irate woman scolded her elderly mother as they headed for the exit.
“This is my first Christmas without your father,” the older woman was fraught, “Just the thought of it that was too much to-”
“Merry Christmas!” The daughter waved to Laura, if only to prove they were leaving empty handed and were not shoplifters. She opened the door for her mother and continued berating her. “Honestly, mom, I never thought you so gullible. Now dad’s bowling trophy’s gone...”
Bowling trophy? So... Wait, is Russell helping her, too?
Laura surrendered her novel, convinced she wasn’t going to make any progress. Her mind started racing, the conversation she had overheard was sobering.
What if Russell is a con man? Just talking people into giving up valuables and then pawning them? How could I be so stupid?
“Laura!” The manager was marching down the aisle. “There’s a call for you.”
“What about the register?”
“I’ll watch it, but be quick,” he said as he switched places with her. “We may still get another rush before close.”
Who would be calling me here? Dad knows I’ll be home in like an hour...
Laura navigated past Health & Beauty to reach the back office where the phone was off the hook. She picked up the handset. “Hello?”
“Hi, Laura. Sorry to bother you but it’s your dad.”
The Bartender?
“I need you to come pick him up before he gets himself hurt.”
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The tavern reminded her of Richie’s parents’ basement. A fog of smoke, low lighting, the smell of spilt beer and the blare of Joe Walsh out of the speakers. It was comforting...
Until Laura saw her dad lob a beer bottle across the floor.
“I know it was one of you!” Richard loomed over a pair of older men sat at the end of the bar. “What if it were one of your grandsons? Huh, old-timers?”
Laura marched to the bar and pulled her dad away from the senior barflies. “Dad, what the hell?”
He instinctively resisted at first, but as soon as Richard saw his daughter’s face, his demeanor changed. His usual alcohol-fueled bitterness and rage he used as a front collapsed, and for the first time ever, Laura saw her father weep.
“He’s gone, baby! Your brother’s gone.”
She looked over to the Bartender, who was concerned but looked just as unsure as Laura. She took her father’s hand. “Dad, let’s go home, okay?”
“Some fucking evil shit took your brother!”
He’s called mom a lot of things, but-
“What kind of scum robs graves?!?”
“Dad, what are you talk-” Laura stopped herself mid-sentence when she somberly realized what her dad meant. The newspaper headlines, her friends’ concerns - it wasn’t a rumor. Someone in Kokomo, Indiana really was robbing graves...
... and her brother was the latest target.
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Taking her dad’s Skylark, Laura drove them both home. Neither spoke much. She offered to pick them up Kentucky Fried Chicken for dinner, but her dad wasn’t hungry, and neither was she. Neither of them could think about anything else but the cold, torturing reality that Brian was no longer at peace.
And it was all her fault.
Shit! Shit! Shit! How could I be so stupid? A new record store opens up in town around the same time as this grave robber? And Russell magically appears offering to bring Brian back right before his grave is dug up? And I... I just hand him the only thing of Brian’s that matters... Jamie was right. My head hasn’t been in the right place, and now...
God, what have I done?
She pulled into the driveway and helped her dad to the couch. As he crushed into the cushions, she turned on the TV and adjusted the dial. “You want me to see if there’s a new episode of Battlestar Galactica on?”
“It’s not on, sweetheart. Christmas Eve,” Richard’s eyes were closing. “But maybe they’ll air that Star Wars Holiday Special again. We missed it...”
“From what Richie said we didn’t miss anything, dad,” Laura tried the four stations. She settled on It's A Wonderful Life.
No, Jimmy Stewart, it’s not.
She turned around to see her father had fallen fast asleep. Signing relief, Laura walked down the hall, stopping in front of the closet. I can’t let that scum do this to Brian. She opened the closet and reached for the top shelf, for the Smith & Wesson. I have a responsibility to protect the one I love from being taken away by evil...
So we can both find peace.
––––––––
As Laura approached the abandoned store block, what she remembered as the location of Nocimo Books & Records from earlier that morning, a sense of dread consumed her. Every storefront stood in their quiet, gutted, abysmal state...
Including Nocimo Books & Records.
Laura pulled the Skylark over, staring in disbelief and horror at the store she vividly remembered visiting, a fully stocked and furnished store, which stood before her as bleak and dilapidated as its neighbors. Was it a bad dream? Laura thought. Did I go somewhere else with the penguin? Did I give it to some other dude in a leisure suit in the middle of the night? She turned off the car and reached into her pocket, double checking the gun. No, I came here. I may not have been myself since... I’ve been detached, heartbroken, traumatized...
But I am not crazy.
Laura got out of the car and approached the sidewalk, cautiously venturing inside the condemned version of the record store. She half expected to still hear The Carpenters, but what she heard instead as she drew closer was chanting of some sort. Taking care not to make a sound, gentle footsteps and controlled breath to restrain her fear, Laura eased towards what would have been the back of the store. Orange flickering suggested candlelight. She hid behind an exposed wall and peered towards what had been a small loading dock in the rear of the building. She found the source of the chanting. It was Russell.
No longer wearing the leisure suit, Russell stood in the center of the area dressed in a dark robe, flecks of purple about the material and ornamented with gold trim. In his hand he held an aged book, which Laura assumed was guiding his chants. On the floor in front of him, laid out in a row, were four unearthed caskets, mud and dirt caked on their lids, with a single item resting on each one: a coffee mug, a necklace, a bowling trophy...
And a stuffed penguin.
Once Laura saw Brian’s toy, the fear and anxiety were overpowered by determination. She pulled the gun out of her pocket and jumped out into the open. “Stop!”
Russell ceased his chanting and slowly turned around to face her. “Miss Merlbann. Too anxious to wait for Christmas morning, I see.”
“Whatever creepy ass, Hammer films, B-movie shit you think you’re doing here is over. I want Brian’s penguin back. And, and everyone else’s stuff, and I’m taking you to the police station. Right now.”
“And you’ll tell them what, Laura?” Russell grinned. “That you apprehended a necromancer, trained in the dark sorcery of his ancestors, who was single-handedly responsible for exhuming four graves, including that of your younger brother?” He shook his head. “They’ll take one look at you, a known pothead, the daughter of a drunk, a girl who’s been batshit and disconnected from reality ever since her mother served poisoned Flavor Aid to her brother, and they’ll believe every word you say. All the while they have you committed before you become just like your mother.”
Oh my God... he’s right. The police...they’ll never believe me. And if I shoot him... they’ll think I’m a murderer... Laura didn’t lower the gun, though. She looked past Russell at Brian’s casket. “Just give me back the penguin,” She stifled her tears. “Just give me back my brother.”
“That’s precisely what I’m trying to do, my dear.” He held up the book. “I’ve spent my whole life learning this book, the secrets it held, secrets my family squandered and misused.” He started to walk towards Laura. “But I will break the cycle. I will see my destiny fulfilled.” He placed his hand on the barrel of her gun. “That is, if you lower your weapon.”
She didn’t want to. She wanted to pull the trigger. She wanted to risk the fallout and cut down evil in its place. But deep down, more than anything, she just wanted her brother back.
Brian...
Laura lowered the gun.
Russell nodded, then opened his tome and resumed his chanting.
Laura’s heart began racing, instantly hating herself for succumbing to irrationality. But what if it was the season of miracles? What if in just a few moments she and Brian would be reunited?
I’d never forgive myself if...
She felt a crackle of electricity in the air, air that began to smell of sulfur and mulch. She wrinkled her nose, and as she watched Russell’s chanting become more intense, as everything began to feel off and wrong, she immediately justified her self-hate. Her initial instincts were right. What she began to witness was unnatural.
The ground beneath her began to tremble. The caskets began rocking, so much so that they almost appeared to be lifting off the ground. The candlelit flames seemed to grow brighter. The look on Russell’s face was unsettling, and for a moment, Laura thought she saw his eyes turn a sickly yellow.
No. No. No!
And just as she conjured up the will to intervene, everything stopped. All went quiet and still. Laura looked on with trepidation, Russell looked on with excitement.
Did he actually do-
A hand violently breached through one of the casket lids, spraying small shards of wood and knocking aside the bowling trophy that laid atop.
Laura let out a scream as the lid was abruptly ripped off from the inside, but her next scream was a silent one. Chills ran through her body as what emerged from the casket laid eyes on her. It was not that older customer’s husband, but instead was his corpse reanimated.
Dear God...
Another casket started to come apart. Laura tightened her grip on the gun. “What are they? They’re not human!”
“Yes, they are,” Russell chuckled, amused by the undead man who seemed entranced by Russell. “Resurrected flesh, brought back from the abyss through their connections to our plane, the mortal coil they’ve shuffled off.” He lifted his hand and watched as the animated corpse mimicked the movement. Russell grinned, stepping back as the third casket began to flail about. “Connected by items soaked in heartbreak and desperation, and given new life as puppets...” Russell hugged his book. “And now I’ve proven it works!”
“Turn them back! Now!” As she shouted, all three looked at her. Their eyes were void of life, their skin gray, almost black. They looked just like the zombies in the old black and white movie her dad used to watch at Halloween. “Please, turn them back! Turn them back before-”
The casket with the penguin started to move.
Laura began crying hysterically as the smaller casket rolled onto its side, the lid falling open. The body that had belonged to her brother lifted itself up onto its hands and feet. Still dressed in Brian’s favorite Incredible Hulk t-shirt, the reanimated boy turned to face Laura. She saw no recognition in those eyes. No life, no love.
This is so wrong! This... Brian...
“Merry Christmas, Laura Merlbann,” Russell raised his arms, and the three adult zombies followed suit. “Reunited with your brother as promised.”
“That’s not Brian!” Laura tensed her arm. “That thing doesn’t have his soul!”
“Well, of course not. Your brainwashed mother’s insanity saw to that. But now your brother, these three other subjects, as well as many more now to come will help me in changing this world, in changing-”
Laura had taken a shot at Russell but instead blew off one of the zombie’s arms instead.
Fuck, I missed!
“How dare you!” Russell threw his book to the ground, startling his undead puppets. “You ungrateful, small-minded little bitch! I offer you something special, something sacred. The opportunity to be the first person to actually reconnect with a lost loved one. But instead you have the audacity to judge the results? To judge me? If you can’t see the grandeur of what I’ve accomplished, then you leave me no choice.” Russell snapped his fingers. The three adult zombies snarled, then lurched towards Laura.
She didn’t have time to think. She didn’t have time to concentrate. She didn’t have time to fear. She squeezed the trigger three times, and each bullet found its way into each of the zombies’ skulls.
As the bodies went inert, Russell’s eyes widened. “No... no! No! No! You fucking whore!”
This time she could think, but the result was the same. She pulled the trigger again, hitting Russell center mass and dropping the necromancer to the floor.
Go to hell.
Laura heard a faint moan and reluctantly looked to her right. Crawling towards her was what once had been her younger brother, now just an abomination, a creature she selfishly allowed to be damned into existence. Her gun hand began to shake as she grappled with the action she had to take. She reminded herself that it wasn’t her brother, that what inched towards her was unholy, evil, and that’s what she brought the gun for.
Goodbye, Brian.
With her remaining bullet, Laura shot her undead brother in the head.
Laura sat there on the cold ground for a few minutes, getting all the tears and shock and grief out of her. As her hands finally stopped trembling, she looked at the scene - opened caskets, decaying bodies, candles and a dying lunatic- and Laura realized any attempt to relay the event would fall on deaf ears, met with skepticism and disdain. She needed to leave.
But what if this would happen again?
Standing up, Laura looked down at Russell, lying in a pool of blood, his breathing thready. He tried to talk but nothing came out. Laura ignored him and instead collected the four totems of the victims. She planned on checking the papers at home to figure out who the families were so she could return them, so that three houses would find feelings of relief on their doorsteps Christmas morning. But as she collected the last item, the stuffed penguin, she noticed near her foot lay the old book Russell had used to perform the ceremony. Next to where the book had fallen was one of the lit candles.
Never again.
Laura stood up, and as she departed, looking over at the dying Russell, she kicked over the candle. She paused her exit, wanting to be sure the flame caught the book on fire, and just as she feared it wasn’t enough, a gust of winter wind passed through and fanned the flame. With the book’s ancient pages ablaze, Laura cuddled Brian’s penguin, relieved no one would ever disturb the departed again. And when the flames spread towards Russell, Laura spared herself from another violent image and turned her back, marching outside of the dilapidated store and into the street.
Approaching the car, she had to juggle the totems while fishing through her pockets for the car keys. As she produced the keys, something else in her pocket fell out and floated into the street. She didn’t notice it, but what she did notice as she got in the Skylark was that the store itself had now caught on fire. Maybe now it’ll finally clear all this out, Laura thought. So we can all start fresh.
She looked down at the items she placed in the passenger’s seat, specifically the penguin. As long as I hold on to this, my memories of him, then he’s not gone. This is how we’re meant to reconnect.
Laura started the engine, and with the fire spreading to the next decrepit storefront, she pulled out onto the street and raced home, leaving only what had fallen out of her pocket behind.
It was Russell’s business card, which read: ‘Nocimo Books & Records. We Help You Find and Revive That Long Lost Love!’