Chapter Twelve

Something’s Wrong with Him

THE CERTAINTY, THE fear in Sam’s words, had stopped Vincent midstride in the hallway.

We fucking buried you.

Her steps echoed in the stairwell. Bare feet on hardwood, growing more distant by the second. Maybe she just needed time to process what she’d seen. Slap. Then again, she could tell Tyler about it. Slap. Or call the police. Slap. Silence filled the air for an unbearable moment before her door opened and slammed shut.

In truth, he wasn’t sure what she’d do.

“Fuck.” Vincent turned to James for answers to the terrible questions filling his mind. James was frozen in place. His slack expression was strangely devoid of emotion, as if her words had hollowed him out. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” James’s eyes focused on him.

Vincent rubbed his arm, trying to thaw him out. “You okay?”

After a long pause, James managed a “Yeah” that only confirmed he was far from it.

Vincent was on his own with this one.

“I gotta go talk to Sam before she—” Vincent stopped himself. James had enough to manage without being provided with a detailed report of all the ways their predicament could end badly. “Well, I’ll be right back. You stay here, okay?”

“Okay,” James said. Vincent wasn’t sure if James had understood him or was merely repeating what he’d heard, but he couldn’t wait for a more concrete answer. He had to get to Sam before she talked to anyone about what she’d seen.

He hurried down the steps to her door, one hand cupping his sore ribs and the other clinging to the railing. Images swirled in his mind of government workers in white hazmat suits poking and prodding James with metal instruments. When he reached the door, he didn’t bother knocking. He twisted the knob and went into the apartment.

Sam and Tyler’s apartment had the same layout as his and James’s. He rushed down the hall into the living room. Tyler didn’t materialize to throw him out. Neither did Sam. The lights were on in the living room, but it was empty. Had Sam gone out the front door? The bathroom door was open, and the light was off, which left the bedroom. The door was cracked, but he didn’t hear anything.

“Sam?” he called.

No response.

Oh God, had she already told Tyler? Was this silence from the shock of the news? He pushed open the door. Sam’s back was to him. She was riffling through a stack of papers on her desk. Tyler was nowhere in sight. A fleeting moment of relief, lasting the lifespan of a shooting star. He didn’t have to deal with Tyler. Just Sam.

He approached her. “Sam?”

She didn’t say a word.

“Sam, we need to talk.”

“Can’t,” she said in a surprisingly level tone.

“Look, what you have to understand is—”

She whipped her head around to face him. Her cheeks were red and wet with tears, but her jaw was clenched. “I don’t have time for this. I have more important shit to deal with.” She brushed past him to search another pile of papers on a nightstand beside the bed.

Shock? Denial? Vincent wasn’t certain, but he couldn’t let her leave until he was sure she planned on keeping James’s survival to herself. “How about we just sit down and chat for a minute?” he started, and when she tried to interrupt him, he spoke over her. “Just for a minute. I know—”

Sam tossed aside the papers in her hand. “I was supposed to leave an hour ago to go study. I have an exam tomorrow—not that you’d care. So, I’m leaving as soon as I find my fucking notes.”

Vincent raised his open hands in an attempt to show her he came in peace. “Listen, I know you’re upset, and you have every right to be. But what you saw up there, you can’t tell anyone about it. Something happened, and until we figure out what, we can’t risk it.”

Sam rubbed her temples. “Why would I tell someone about that? That’s crazy. I lost it for a moment—we both did, but he wasn’t real. He can’t be. James is dead.” Tears flooded her eyes, and her breath hitched.

She wasn’t making any sense.

“Sam, we both couldn’t have imagined the same thing at the same time. That’s impossible.”

“I need to leave. I’m not going to fail out of school in my last semester. I am going to study. And you? Well, you can go enjoy your fantasy or whatever the hell is going on. You clearly don’t need me.” She resumed her search.

The sharp edge of her words took him aback. This was a lot to handle, but he wouldn’t let her lie to him. He snatched the papers from her hands. “He’s alive. You saw him.”

“Listen to what you’re saying,” she said, her voice wavering. “I mean, I went to his funeral. Put a rose on his casket. Watched them pile dirt on it.”

James, covered in blood and dirt in Schenley Park, flashed in his mind. He pushed the image away. “Did you see him? At the funeral?”

“No. It was a closed casket, but—”

“Exactly. ’Cause he wasn’t in there.”

“Why would they have a funeral, then? Huh? Did he fake his death? Does he have some sort of amazing life insurance? Were those men in on it too?” She took her papers back.

Vincent didn’t even know how to respond to that. James wasn’t some maniacal villain; he was a victim. “Do you really think he’d do this to me? I mean, look at me. Look!”

Sam surveyed his broken body. Something close to pity flickered in her eyes. “What does he say happened?”

“He doesn’t know.”

“Well maybe you should find out.” She set the papers back on the nightstand and knelt to look under the bed. She pulled a black plastic box from under it, set it aside, and reached back under.

He chewed on her words. James wasn’t lying to him. He had been through a lot, and he couldn’t remember it all. Hell, Vincent could barely remember what had happened that night. And while they argued, James was staring off into the distance upstairs, his mind lost in who knew what. “You don’t understand what state he’s in.”

“You’re right; I don’t,” she said, still under the bed. “Because no one bothered to tell me he’s alive.”

Vincent’s blood pulsed in his ears. She couldn’t even face him. He’d had about as much of Sam as he could take. “Get up!”

Sam froze.

“Get the fuck up!” The anger, the forcefulness in his voice surprised even him.

Sam got to her feet, her eyes wary. “What?”

“First of all, he didn’t tell you because he wanted to protect you from the shitstorm that has surrounded us since that night.” Vincent wiped away the tears blurring his vision. “And second, you’re supposed to be his best friend, his sister. And he needs you. He needs us. Because he’s alive. And he’s not okay.”

“I…I can’t” was all she managed to get out before the tears overwhelmed her.

Vincent waited. He wanted to hear why she’d rather mourn James than help him.

“What the fuck is going on?” Tyler stood in the doorway. He had a gym bag over one shoulder, and his skin shone with sweat.

Sam was crying too hard to answer him.

Vincent looked down at his bare feet. Even someone as daft as Tyler could put together Sam’s tears and Vincent’s presence. Still, he said, “Nothing.”

Tyler shrugged off his bag, and it fell to the ground with a deafening thump. “I think it’s time we had a talk.”

But Tyler didn’t look like he wanted to talk. He looked like he wanted to strangle him. His nostrils were flared, and his eyes were narrow. Vincent fought against the urge to make a run for it. Even before the attack, Tyler could’ve caught him, and he stood between Vincent and the door anyway.

“Tyler, don’t,” choked Sam between sobs.

Her words only seemed to add to his fury. He advanced, a rabid attack dog ready to sink his teeth into Vincent’s Achilles tendon. “You know what I don’t fucking understand? Why is it that Sam goes above and beyond to help you, and she always ends up in tears? Huh?”

Tyler was so close to his face Vincent could smell his sweat. Made it hard to breathe. What could he say that wouldn’t piss Tyler off more? He might’ve snapped at Sam when she brought over that casserole, but this was different. A misunderstanding that had been blown out of proportion. One he couldn’t explain to Tyler without revealing that James was alive. But Tyler wanted answers, and he looked like he was ready to break open Vincent’s jaw and forcibly extract them if necessary.

Vincent took a step back. He was shaking so much he was surprised he could carry his own weight. “Sam?”

“I’m talking to you!”

Tyler’s words were so close, so loud, Vincent stumbled back, attempting to distance himself from a strike that was sure to come. Whatever he stepped on shot out from under him. He fell. He screamed as he bashed his head on something before he hit the floor and the pain exploding in his chest silenced him.

Papers rained down around him from the desk that was now overhead.

“Stop!” Sam cried.

“I didn’t even touch him.” Tyler threw his hands up in frustration. “The klutz fell.”

Vincent rubbed his chest and tried to breathe. Through the blur of falling paper, he saw a pair of legs in the bedroom doorway. Sam and Tyler must have noticed the person, too, because they’d fallen silent. The papers cleared. Vincent propped himself up on his elbows to find James stepping into the room.

“James?” Vincent tried to process the scene playing out in front of him. James was supposed to wait upstairs. They couldn’t risk anyone else learning the truth. But Vincent had fallen over, and he had screamed, and here James was, his eyes locked on the man standing over his boyfriend.

Tyler looked from Vincent to James and back, as if he was ensuring he wasn’t the only one seeing the man in the doorway. His jaw dropped, and Vincent readied himself for a scream, but when Tyler spoke, it was barely above a whisper. “What the fuck?”

James didn’t say a word. His face was carved from stone, cold and unemotional. He marched over to Tyler, grabbed him by the collar of his jersey, and somehow lifted him into the air. “If you ever lay a hand on him again, I’ll end you.”

“James!” Sam reached out a hand like she wanted to do something to stop him but wasn’t sure what she could do.

Tyler kicked and screamed, struggling in vain to break free. He didn’t look so intimidating now. In fact, he looked like a scared little boy. A dark spot expanded from the crotch of his gray sweatpants and ran down his leg. James shook him. “Understand?”

“Yes!” Tyler said through tears.

James let him go. Tyler hit the ground hard with an awful moan before he curled in on himself like a dead bug. Sam checked on him. Vincent had been so caught up in what was happening that he’d forgotten himself for a moment. The fog dissipated, and it was clear to him that he needed to get James out of there. Now.

Vincent scrambled to his feet. He almost slipped on some papers, but James caught him. Vincent looked into his eyes. “James, we need to go.”

James didn’t respond. He was lost in that far-off place again.

“Now!” Vincent grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door. He didn’t stop or look back or try to explain anything. The situation had escalated far beyond words. The best thing he could do now was put distance between them and Tyler until everyone had some time to cool off.

He’d almost made it to the hall when the metallic click stopped him in his tracks.

Somewhere behind them, Sam screamed. “Oh God! Tyler, stop!”

Vincent turned around. The black box that Sam had set aside before was open. Tyler held a deep-blue pistol in his hands, and it was pointed right at them. “Nobody move!”

Vincent was no longer in their bedroom. He was in the tunnel, clasping James’s hand, staring into oblivion. Only, the man holding the gun in front of them wasn’t full of disgust; he was full of fear. The gun shook in Tyler’s unsteady hand, the blue metal shining in the light. Vincent and James had survived death once. He doubted they could slip through its grasp a second time.

“What the fuck is going on?” Tyler said. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

Vincent tried to explain, but he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs to speak. Sam’s words were unintelligible between her sobs. James was silent. He let go of Vincent’s hand and stepped toward Tyler. Vincent grabbed him. They needed to get the hell out of this apartment before Tyler killed them both.

Tyler backed away toward Sam. “You stay the fuck away from us.”

James was getting closer, pulling Vincent along with him. Vincent had to put an end to this now, or they’d both be dead. He forced air into his aching lungs and managed, “He’s James.”

Tyler started to lower the gun, but after a moment, he raised it again. “No. James couldn’t do that. Something’s wrong with him or it or whatever that is.”

“Put the fucking gun down!” Sam pushed the barrel toward the floor.

Vincent leaned back so that his entire weight pulled on James, sending pain ripping through his chest. “Stop!”

James halted, turned around. His eyes focused.

“We need to go!” Tears ran down Vincent’s face. They didn’t have a choice in the tunnel. But they did now. They could leave. He wouldn’t lose James again.

Finally, James relented. He backed away. Followed Vincent out of the room and down the hall.

“You okay?” James asked him.

“I will be.” Once they were far away from Tyler and behind their locked and deadbolted door. Once he could sort out what had just happened and what could happen now that Sam and Tyler knew the truth.

They were almost out of the apartment when Tyler yelled from the bedroom, “Stay the fuck away from us!”

Vincent slammed the apartment door shut behind them.

He didn’t look back.