94. What’s Your Deal?

“You know what that thing was?” Brick asks. We’re on the deck of my cabin, and he’s cleaning the blood off his ankles and feet.

“No.”

I got some bandages from a first-aid kit inside. Thankfully Mom is working and the house is empty.

“But you’ve seen it before?”

“Yeah.”

I’m a bit dizzy from the whole experience. I haven’t had time to make sense of the vision I saw, and meanwhile I’m trying to keep Brick from completely freaking out.

“Man, I feel like I’m tripping, you know?” he says.

I can’t really tell him anything.

All I know is that the person I went to see was missing.

While Brick was attacked by the wild beast that mysteriously vanishes into thick and stinky air, leaving behind a coating of goo.

“Man, you’re into some weird stuff,” Brick says. After he wraps up both of his ankles, he takes a cigarette out of the pack and lights it. “Sorry—my last one.”

“And I might have said yes.”

We sit there on the deck under the warm noon sun and stare at the trees below.

“Well, that pretty much tops the weird stuff I’ve seen around here,” he says. “And I’ve seen my share.”

“I think everybody has,” I say.

“What’s your deal, Buckley?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. What’s the scoop with you? Weird stuff has been happening around you ever since you came to town.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Just tell me you’re a good guy.”

“What’s that even mean?”

“That you’re not part of them. The ones who dress up and play Ku Klux Klan.”

“You’ve seen them?”

He nods but doesn’t act like it’s some big information.

“I’m not a part of them.”

“Good.”

And that’s all he says.

I’ve already gotten him involved enough. Neither of us wants any more.

“Thanks for looking out for me,” I tell him.

“No problem, man. Anytime.”

I wonder if he seriously means that.

Staring at him, I think he really does.