Monthly Archives: January 2012

I’m Not Batman

You know what’s funny? Writing a post wherein I claim to be a borderline workaholic, then spending the next three afternoons rotting my brain in front of the television because my motivation flew out the window like an expensive parrot left out of its cage. My life often takes a turn toward the comedic, so I shouldn’t be surprised, but still how is this fair?

Alright, I’ll confess that I haven’t really been as unproductive as I’m letting on. Every morning, I burned through mountains of tasks like so many plague victims before letting my ass take root on the sofa. Except for yesterday, that is. Yesterday I was a couch potato from start to finish, with only twenty minutes of half-hearted editing thrown in as a token attempt to not be entirely useless.

To me, motivation comes like the tides. Highs and lows, feast or famine, with very little territory in between. Some days I can dive into whatever it is that needs diving into and get things done at a pace that impresses my friends and frightens small children. Other days it takes effort even to breathe. Worse, I spend most of my bad days beating myself up for not having a good one.

I’m told this is all perfectly normal given my illness, but that’s about as comforting as a walrus down the trousers. For all the money I’ve spent on mental health people, and all the time I’ve taken to consider my situation, I really have only one plan of attack for dealing with my inconstant ambition. On a good day, I work as hard as I possibly can without collapsing, because I never know when the next bad day will come along, or if that day will stretch into weeks.

As plans go, it’s certainly not the healthiest.

I’m trying to find better ways of dealing with my good days, while at the same time trying to find strategies to better cope with the bad, but I know I’ll never find a magic wand. That said, here are three things I try to keep in mind whenever things take a turn for the worse. Maybe you can get some mileage out of them too.

Perfection is a hideous monster that feeds on my dreams and shits on my best work. You know the drill, you work hard to accomplish something, maybe even see it through to the end, only to hear your inner critic start screaming about how badly you’ve failed. Worse, you’re so convinced of your failure that you never even get started. Never let perfection become the enemy of the good.

“Fuck it,” is a perfectly acceptable response to a shitty day. I pick my battles carefully, and am always on the lookout for those times when I’m just throwing energy at a problem that refuses to be solved. Some afternoons I just don’t have the attention span to sit and edit something, or even to read a book. Rather than just keep pounding my head against the wall, I let it go and find something else to do, even if that something is doing nothing at all.

I am not Batman. As much as it might pain me to admit it, I’m not a billionaire, crime-fighting genius with a gizmo for everything and I will fail from time to time. I won’t always get the bad guy, save the day or look awesome in my rubber pervert suit. And that’s okay, because no one expects me to.

Episode 13 – Jack

“Over here, Jack!” Cory’s order rang out like a bell thrown through a plate glass window. His voice was changing, sounding intermittently like nails on a chalk board and Barry White. Jack tossed the ball to his friend, but his eyes were nowhere near the target.

He was watching Jessica Mitchell and falling in love.

“Damn it!”

“Cory Wilson, watch your language young man.” Jack glanced toward the reprimand and saw Mrs. Cox standing near the side door of the school. She was fifty feet away from them, but her ears were finely tuned instruments. He smiled and waved to her, earning a stern frown and a shake of the head.

“Jack, did you see where it went?”

Jack sighed, took another look at Jessica sitting on the bench with Kathy Martin, then tromped toward the bushes to join Cory on his quest for the baseball.

“Sorry,” he said, as he bent down next to his friend and began parting the branches.

“Yeah, I bet. Why don’t you talk to her?”

“I don’t think she likes me,” Jack said. “I mean-“

“Got it!” Cory reached in and pulled the ball out. He stayed low though and glanced over his shoulder to the girls on the bench. “What do you mean?”

“You know, stuff. She looks at me funny.”

“I think that’s the girl version of leering.”

“No, it’s different. Like she’s, I don’t know. Sizing me up for a fight.”

“Huh? Why’d a girl want to fight you?”

“Okay, so maybe not that.” Jack shook his head and stood up. “Come on, there’s like two minutes left of recess.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I’ve got a test.”

Cory dusted off the ball and tossed it underhand to Jack. A moment later the bell went off and Mrs. Cox began clapping her hands together, throwing her own voice into the din of children’s groans.

“Everyone line up. That’s a good one, line up now.”

“At least we won’t have Mrs. Cox to deal with next year,” Cory muttered.

“No recess at all.”

“Yeah, but they have lunch outside and stuff.”

Jack thought his point would be lost on Cory so he said nothing further. At his advancing age of thirteen, his father was on his case non-stop with talks of responsibility, adulthood and living up to expectations. He suspected it was a Frost family tradition, a lecture handed down from father to son going all the way back to the Mayflower.

He was feeling the first painful grip of adulthood’s shackles, a sensation made even more urgent when he looked around the front yard of the school where he and the other older kids took recess. Few groups spent the period playing. Most just hung out, sitting in twos, threes and fours talking about one thing or another.

He thought about it as his feet assumed the responsibility of navigating his thin frame into the line for the march back into the building. Ten feet from the door, Jack felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. He turned his head and looked up into Mr. Howard’s eyes.

“Morning, Jack,” the principal said. His mouth was set in a wide smile but his eyes were anything but happy or friendly.

“Morning, Mr. Howard.” Jack saw Cory’s head snap around, his redheaded friend giving him a look of profound sympathy laced with fear. Mr. Howard led Jack out of the line.

“Can you come with me for a moment?”

“What’d I do?”

Mr. Howard laughed. “No, it’s nothing like that. It will only take a minute, then I’ll have you back in class.” Jack felt the hand on his shoulder tighten and knew the principal wouldn’t be taking no for an answer. He let himself be led away from the door, the older man guiding him not-so-gently to the parking lot.

***

“Over here, Jack!” Peter shouted through the sound of the wailing car alarms, but his voice was nearly a whisper to Jack’s ears over the chaos. Jack had made it half-way across the road when he had to jump out of the way of a speeding Volkswagen. The driver made no effort to avoid him, missing Jack’s hips by less than an inch.

He looked up and saw his friend holding open the front door of the hotel they’d seen from the car. Peter’s arm was moving in frantic circles, trying to conduct him into the building as if he were a symphony. Jack went in and Peter followed.

The lobby was small, but fine, like a New York City hotel done in miniature. Jack saw two men standing behind a large counter to his left, with several men and women milling about the room with looks of fear and confusion on their faces.

One woman stood out from the rest. She was blonde, her hair pulled back in a loose bun. The clothes she wore looked completely out of place among the designer labels the other people sported. She had on a white tee shirt, faded blue jeans and had a white and black checkered shirt tied around her waist.

“What’s going on out there?” The question belonged to one of the men standing behind the desk. Jack turned to speak, but Peter jumped in.

“We’re not sure, but the important thing is that we’re safe.”

“Safe?” A woman in her fifties, wearing a dress far too young for her, spoke up. “What’s happening?”

“Do you have a phone?” Peter asked, ignoring the woman for the time being.

“Of course we have a phone,” the guy at the front desk replied. Jack took an immediate dislike to him. “Not that it will do any good. It went out about ten minutes ago.”

“Land line?”

“And the cells,” the woman in the tee shirt added. “We’re cut off.”

Jack turned back to his friend. Peter just stared for a moment, then shook his head and looked back out through the glass to the street beyond. They heard another gunshot, this one closer. Jack took a step closer so he could speak to Peter without being overheard.

“Cellular service, landlines and satellite communications. All of them cut?”

“Impossible,” Peter said. “There’s nothing that could do that.”

“There’s one thing, isn’t there?”

Peter looked at his friend, his lips turned down into a tight frown. He shook his head again. “The pulse from a nuclear weapon would have shut down all the electronics, not just communications. Besides, it’d be pretty hard to miss a mushroom cloud.”

“So where does that leave us?” Jack asked. Peter looked outside again. A long minute later, he spoke.

“I think we’re in your territory here, Jack,” he said. “I hope to God you’ve got a theory now.”

***

Once out of the view of the teachers and students, Mr. Howard’s face lost its smile and took on a look of frustration, purpose and anger. The principal had told him he’d done nothing wrong, but Jack saw just the opposite in the man’s face. It was a look that meant trouble with detention to follow.

They strode into the parking lot and made their way between the cars until Mr. Howard’s hand yanked Jack’s shoulder back, drawing him to a stop before the principal’s brand new Pontiac. The young man looked at the car and groaned audibly.

The gray paint hadn’t just been scratched, it had been destroyed. In some places, the gouges were nearly a quarter inch wide. There was no pattern to the marks beyond sheer enthusiasm.

“This!” Mr. Howard pointed to his car with the hand not holding Jack in place. “You tell me who did this!”

Jack looked down at his feet. “I don’t know, sir.” The principal’s hand gave him a shake.

“That’s a lie, Jack. You know damned well who did this.” The curse word surprised him. Mr. Howard kept a strong hold on his tongue even for the worst offenders. But then gum chewing, class cutting and fights weren’t the same thing as having your new car’s paint job stripped.

“How could I know?” Jack said, the man’s fingers digging savagely into his shoulder. He’d have bruises there for sure. Mr. Howard brought his face down to his level, his lips in line with Jack’s ear. Jack was tall for his age, but the older man had been a star basketball player in college and easily beat his height by a foot.

“You listen to me, you freak, and you listen good. You’re gonna tell me which of the little bastards did this to my car. ‘Cause if you don’t, mister, I’m taking this out on you.”

Jack struggled not to cry, fought to remember his father’s words about weaknesses the young can get away with but are off limits to teenaged boys.

“Who the fuck did this to my car?”

Jack closed his eyes and reached out a trembling hand. Mr. Howard shoved him forward so his shins barked off the front bumper. Jack’s hand hit the hood and he began tracing the lines left by the vandal. He opened his eyes, feeling tears spill down his cheeks. In spite of the iron grip Mr. Howard kept on him, and his own fears, Jack felt himself begin to relax.

It felt horrible. His guts began to twist as a cold sensation formed in the pit of his stomach. He hated every second of that feeling which he sometimes got even without trying. It felt like an icicle was being worked up inside him, a hand turning it, winding him up.

“It was a wood chisel,” he said. He was faintly aware that Mr. Howard had taken a step back, his hand yanked away from Jack’s shoulder. Jack kept going. He didn’t have a choice anymore. Once he let that cold thing in, he had to see it through to the end.

“Rusty, old. He got it from his grandfather’s toolbox. It makes his hand smell like dirty grease.”

“Who, Jack? Who did this?”

Jack saw a flash of the vandal’s face and even in that emotionless place, he felt fear trying to creep in.

“Tim Johnson, sir,” Jack said, pulling his hand away from the hood. He looked at his palm and saw slivers of paint, some laying just on the surface, others plunging cruelly beyond the skin. His hand stung.

Jack turned and saw Mr. Howard watching him. The older man’s face had gone white, but his expression was blank. Finally, the principal forced a smile.

“That’s good Jack,” he said. “Very good. Thanks for your help. You can go on into class now.”

Jack nodded and walked quickly toward the school. As he passed the principal, Mr. Howard took a step away, putting an arm’s length of distance between them. It was a movement filled with fear, as though the idea of being touched by him filled the older man with horror.

Jack wiped his eyes, dusted his palm on the thigh of his blue jeans and ran inside.

***

“It’s another piece. But we’re still missing something.”

“Are we still talking about Frank?” Peter didn’t take his eyes off the scene outside, though there was little to see. Nothing moved outside, though the car alarms kept sounding. The chaos seemed to have moved beyond their block, abandoning the center of town for the outskirts.

“I think so.”

“How? How is this related?” To Jack, Peter didn’t sound incredulous, more confused. His friend’s manner frightened him, in some way, perhaps more than the riot they’d witnessed. Peter put his faith in facts and was now diving head first into Jack’s intuitions. It reminded him of the man in the business suit, throwing himself under the wheels of the van.

“I don’t know. I just know they are.”

“You said you didn’t even think that was Frank’s body,” Peter said. “So start with that, Jack. Who’s the guy in the morgue?”

“It’s not human. Doc’s autopsy proved that, we just didn’t want to accept it.”

“No internal organs.” Peter nodded, his face grave. When Doc Harley had cut open Frank Burns, they’d found nothing but a partial skeleton and what the medical examiner had called “undifferentiated tissue.” He’d been nothing but a mass of cells inside, like a giant human embryo.

“It was something made to look like him.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you mean, how?”

Peter shot Jack a look. “Fuck the how, Jack. Leave that for the scientists. I’m talking about motive.”

“Alright. Why? Well, what did they get? Two FBI agents.”

“Right. Assuming whoever or whatever…made that thing, assuming they knew Frank was FBI, they get this investigation.”

“What else?”

“Me.” A female voice made the two men turn around. It was the blonde in the blue jeans. She’d come up behind them as they were talking and had been listening in on their conversation.

“Excuse me?” Peter said. Jack knew he was annoyed by the intrusion.

“I said they get me,” she said. “You’re agents Peter Driscoll and Jack Frost, aren’t you?” The two men exchanged looks.

“How did you know that?” Peter asked. The woman frowned and shifted on her friend.

“I’m a journalist. I was tipped off to the Frank Burns case and came here to poke around.”

“Fantastic,” Peter said, shaking his head and resuming his vigil out the window.

“Tipped off to what?”

“That you found him in the lake, seventeen years after he and his wife vanished and that he hadn’t aged a day.” She shrugged as if that explained everything. “It’s a story.”

“For the tabloids, maybe,” Peter said with a chuckle that sounded too forced for even the most naive of people to believe.

“The tabloids don’t have a monopoly on the weird.”

“What’s your name?” Jack asked.

“Sam Devlin.” She extended her hand out of reflex. Jack smiled and shook it, finding himself more at ease with her than he thought he should be. Maybe it was her looks or the way she carried herself, but Jack knew instinctively that she was good at her job. She had a way about her that made you want to relax and open up.

“Nice to meet you.” Jack turned to Peter. “And I think we might have our answer.”

“How’s that?” Peter said.

“She’s right, it’s a story. It would bring a lot of attention.”

“Are we falling back on good old fashioned narcissism?”

Jack shrugged. “Maybe. How would we profile a killer in this situation? The body wasn’t weighed down, the victim-“

“Which there wasn’t,” Peter interjected. “I mean, if we go on the theory it was somehow created and not natural.”

“It still fits. The killer intentionally chose someone that would bring us in, and they chose circumstances that could bring national attention.”

Peter considered Jack’s words for a minute, listening to the howling car alarms. He nodded. “Attention sounds like a possibility. But what about the cold case theory?”

“I don’t know.” Jack shook his head. “That’s part of the missing piece.”

“What cold case?” Sam asked. Peter laughed.

“No, I think we’ve said quite enough for your ears.”

“Sure,” Sam said. She looked back at Jack. “But I think you’re right. I think someone wants to get Cedar Mills in the headlines.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I think someone else has been trying to keep it out of them.”

***

“I think Brenda likes you.” Cory’s words fell on deaf ears. Jack was too busy worrying about Tim Johnson and what he’d do when he found out who’d ratted on him. Tim was fifteen and built like a freight train. He’d been held back twice and was already shaving. Once Mr. Howard got through with him, Jack knew he’d come looking for payback.

“Did you hear me?”

“Not really.”

“I said, ‘I think Brenda likes you.’ That’s why Jessica’s giving you the evil eye.”

“Oh.” Jack looked up toward the front of the room and saw the two girls whispering. Jess and Brenda had been best friends for who knew how long, but while Jess had the face of an angel and the figure of a blossoming goddess, Brenda was sort of plain. She wore too-thick glasses and had a reputation for being a book worm who spent almost no time playing outside. She might be a little cute, sometimes, but that was it.

“So?” Jack asked.

“What’s got into you? What’d Mr. Howard want, anyway?”

“Nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing,” Cory said. “Was it about his car?” Jack looked up, horrified.

“You know about that?”

“What? I know he got his car keyed. That’s been all over the school since the opening bell.”

“Do they know who did it?”

“Don’t know. Don’t think anyone’s taking credit for it.”

Jack folded his hands on the desk in front of him and rested his chin on them. He felt a small amount of hope creep into his heart. If the kids all knew about the principal’s car, then maybe enough knew it was Tim Johnson to give him plausible denial.

“It was about his car, wasn’t it?”

“No,” Jack lied. He liked Cory, but when it came to keeping a secret, he was the last person Jack would tell.

“Oh man, Howard made you finger someone.”

“No, it wasn’t like that.”

“Jesus, that really sucks.”

“Shut up, Cory!”

“Jack Frost!” Mrs. Reed didn’t have ears like Mrs. Cox, but Jack’s voice was loud enough in that moment for the deafest of teachers to hear. “Maybe you can tell us what’s so much more interesting than photosynthesis.”

Anything, Jack thought. “Sorry,” he said.

The teacher clicked her tongue in disapproval and continued giving her lecture.

“Who did it, anyway?” Cory asked.

“I don’t know,” Jack said. “How could I?”

His eyes flicked in Jess’s direction and he caught Brenda staring. Her brown hair was held back in a blue ribbon, her thick glasses perched on her nose so that she looked over them to see him. She blushed and turned quickly away, making Jack smile in spite of his foul mood.

Jack thought he might be wrong about her. Brenda was more than cute when she blushed. Right then, he thought she was downright pretty.

***

As quickly as the chaos began, it stopped. All at once the car alarms cut out, the distant sounds ceased and the air was filled with a still silence that, to Jack, seemed much, much worse. Sam stepped past the two men and looked out the window next to them. Behind the three, Jack heard the other people in the lobby begin to approach, taking halting steps toward the front doors.

“Nobody go outside,” Peter said, his voice little more than a whisper, but it carried a sense of authority Jack knew the others wouldn’t question. At least not yet.

“Is it over?” Sam asked.

“Appearances can be deceiving. We still don’t know what it was.”

“I don’t see any movement,” Jack said. His eyes scanned the street out front, flicked between the windows in the buildings across the road and found no evidence of life. Even the wind was dead calm.

“Everyone left?” One of the men manning the front desk had stepped away from his post to join them. Jack looked at his face and saw fear, but the panic that had been writ large only minutes ago had gone from his expression. He glanced around the room, looking at the other people and noticed the same change.

“You feel that?” Jack asked.

“What?”

“The adrenaline rush,” Jack said. “The fear, the need to get away. It’s gone.”

“I can’t say it’s gone completely, Jack.” Peter gave him a look that said he was still struggling with his own emotions.

“But it’s not as urgent?”

“No,” Peter said, shaking his head slowly. Now his eyes drifted to the others and he seemed to pick up on Jack’s thoughts. “There’s no sense of panic.”

“Speak for yourself! What the fuck’s happening?” A man of about twenty-five spoke up. He had wrapped his arm around the older woman wearing the low-cut backless number that belonged on someone half her age. His gesture might have seemed protective to some, but Jack read it as possessive and controlling.

“We’re not sure,” Peter said, turning to face the group. “Right now, we’re all going to stay here and plan our next move.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“My name is Special Agent Peter Driscoll. Now let’s just all take it easy and remain calm.”

Jack watched Peter begin to work crowd control. He’d seen the act dozens of times but it had never felt this forced. His friend was attempting to gain the group’s trust and respect, while implanting the suggestion that he could enforce his words if it came to that. In other situations, Peter could get a much larger crowd to cooperate eagerly, but even this small group was too scared to hear anything but Peter’s uncertainty.

“Calm?” The older woman’s face was a mask of scorn. “Why are government agents here?”

“We were here on an unrelated matter, ma’am,” Peter said. “Now if-“

“Bullshit!” Her male companion had jumped in again. “No, you fuckers knew something was going to happen.”

“Experimenting on citizens!” Jack didn’t know who had said this last, but it didn’t matter. Panicky people are ready to believe anything and it was clear that Peter was losing control of the situation before he’d even gained it. Besides the two agents, there were nine other people in the room and most of them began to speak all at once.

“Enough!” Sam hollered, her voice cutting down the waves of protest. “Jesus, let’s not string anyone up yet. Who’s got a cell phone?”

“They’re all dead,” explained the desk clerk standing near them.

“Mine’s dead,” Sam said. “Yours is dead. What about everyone else? Pull them out, maybe someone has a signal.” Less than a minute later, they’d had no such luck.

“What about you two?” Sam asked Peter. “Uncle Sam give you any gizmos? Ear buds? Anything?”

“Cell phones and a laptop with a satellite uplink. All dead.”

“Landline is out too, along with our internet.” The clerk remaining behind the counter called out after checking both again.

“We’re wasting our time!” The man dropped his arm from the woman and took a step forward. “We’ve got to get the fuck out of here while the coast is clear!”

“I don’t think that’s the smartest move,” Peter said.

“I’m with Derrick,” the woman said, putting her own arm around the man. Jack couldn’t work out the relationship between the pair, but the man was obviously the dominant personality. He shrugged off her arm almost violently and pointed toward the door.

“My wife and I are leaving.”

“Who here has counter terrorism training? Raise your hand!” Sam was shouting again. She stared at the agents and Jack nodded, trying to not smile in spite of the circumstances. He’d already decided he liked the journalist more than he should. “What about weapons training? Tactical maneuvering? Riot experience?”

“There’s nothing going on out there!”

“You see anything moving outside?” Sam gestured to the window. “Take a look! It’s fucking dead out there. Nothing! I can’t even hear anything, can you? Are you really that fucking eager to leave this room?”

The man and his much older wife said nothing, nor did the others.

“My point,” Sam continued, “is that right now these two men are the only ones even remotely qualified to make a decision and I say let them have it. We stay here, calm down and figure out what the next move is.”

“Is there anyone else in the hotel?” Peter asked the clerk behind the desk. The man nodded.

“A few. Some staff and three other guests, although I believe the guests might have gone out. I mean, before.”

“I’ll do a sweep of the building,” Jack said, turning to the man standing next to him. “Mister…”

“Todd Healy.” The clerk reached out his hand on instinct. Jack gave him a quick shake.

“Todd and I will start at the top and work our way down, get everyone here. We’ll bring some food and something to drink when we get back.”

“I’m not sure if I’m authorized to do that,” Todd said. Jack smiled.

“It’s alright, I’m sure the owners can write it off.” He looked at Peter and Sam. “The two of you going to be alright?”

“We’re fine,” Sam said. Peter stepped up and whispered in Jack’s ear.

“I heard gunfire and saw a lot of people not in their right mind. Be careful.”

“Understood.” Jack turned to Todd. “Lead on. We’ll take the stairs.”

***

When the final bell rang out, Jack headed home. If he’d run into Cory his friend would no doubt have protested and tried roping him into an after school romp through the nearby cemetery or otherwise waylay him. As it happened, Cory was nowhere to be seen once Jack hit the wide front steps of the school. He was happy to have avoided him.

By one o’clock, the school was abuzz with the news that Tim Johnson had been kicked out of school for wrecking Mr. Howard’s car. Worse, more and more eyes began to fall on Jack as he went from one class to another. Whether it was Cory’s big mouth spreading the rumor, or his own guilty face that had given him away, Jack felt like a marked man. He wanted to get far away from the school and back to the safety of his house.

He kept his eyes down as he crossed the lot and hit the sidewalk, doing his best to remain invisible. Once on the street, he walked quickly to the corner and crossed, taking Church Street which led past the big white Temple of the Blessed Virgin. Jack thought of the route ahead and decided cut around Spring Street. He usually walked that way, but it led past the library and a lot of the bigger kids like to hang out on its back lawn.

Big kids like Tim Johnson and his high school friends.

Why’d I have to say something? He wondered to himself. The principal had threatened him, but he could have bit his tongue and refused. His father was a respected officer in the Seattle Police Department and Mr. Howard’s words would have been only that: words. He could threaten a thirteen year old, but couldn’t have done any real harm.

Jack knew that was bullshit even as he thought it. He still had a year to go before he’d be out from under Mr. Howard’s watchful eye. The principal would make his life hell at every opportunity. Mr. Howard was one of the few people who knew about him, and as they say, knowledge was power.

“Hey, fucker!”

Jack froze, terror filling him with unbreakable paralysis. It took every ounce of willpower he had to even look up. He’d been on autopilot again, not thinking where he was going. He hadn’t turned off his normal route and now stood on Spring Street behind the library.

Tim Johnson had called out, with three of his friends and two of his older brothers standing near him. The fifteen year old kid had the body of a linebacker and he was walking right toward him, down the gentle slope of lawn that ran like a skirt around the small library. Jack didn’t even have the presence of mind to run.

“You got me kicked out school you little bitch!” Tim’s fist was fast, too fast for Jack to notice it move. It collided with his nose and sent an explosion of stars through his head. Jack remembered falling on the ground, sprawling awkwardly over his backpack. His head hit the curb, narrowly avoiding the front bumper of the car that was parked there.

“Fucking faggot!” A foot came down on his stomach and all the wind in Jack’s body flooded out of him.

He didn’t remember anything else from that day.

***

“So why are you guys here?” Todd asked after explaining the situation to a maid they found on the third floor. She had hidden in a linen closet and refused to open the door until Jack had assured her it was safer in the lobby. He didn’t believe his own words, but she did and she hurried down the stairs to join the others.

“We’re investigating a missing person case,” Jack said.

“Have anything to do with that business at the lake the other day?”

“Yes.” Jack didn’t feel the need to elaborate and Todd didn’t ask him to. The clerk simply nodded and led Jack from room to room. The guests that had been unaccounted for were all checked in on the third floor and were nowhere to be found.

“How many more on staff here?”

“Three. Another maid and two guys in the kitchen.”

“Do you get much business?” Jack wasn’t interested in the answer, but Todd had stuck to his job downstairs. He’d questioned his authority to hand out free food and drinks, which might have been laughable, but Jack took it for what it was. It was a defense mechanism. Todd took comfort in his duties, so Jack chose to lead the conversation in that direction.

“This is our busy season,” Todd said, jumping at the chance Jack offered. He was obviously eager to talk about anything normal. “Fall foliage. It’s a little early this year, but we usually hit eighty percent capacity by the first week of October.”

“Only eighty percent?”

“We’re almost never full, which we like.”

“Why is that?”

Todd’s expression became a mix of pride and privilege, the look of someone who believed he was much better than others and leagues above his true place in the grand scheme of things.

“We pride ourselves on not being a tourist destination. Such places have a lack of character and true charm. The J.B. Hodgeman, and Cedar Mills as a whole, enjoys an air of private dignity.”

“I see,” Jack said. “The guests feel this place is special, undiscovered.”

“And unspoiled. Some towns would prefer to have thousands of tourists tramping about the streets, but with them would come gift shops and street vendors.” Todd adjusted his black coat, the same uniform worn by his companion downstairs. “We much prefer to keep our charm.”

“I can appreciate that.” Jack held open the door to the stairwell and followed Todd down to the second floor.

***

Jack woke up in the hospital four days later. Tim Johnson had given him two broken ribs, a broken nose, a concussion and a collapsed lung. After that, he was later told, Tim’s brothers and friends took turns. Years later, Jack would understand how close he was to dying when Mr. Miller, the head librarian, came out and dispersed his attackers.

“Jack?”

“Cassie?” His vision was blurry and he could only see out of his right eye. He saw white and what looked like blue sky. A window. A moment later, a dark shape came over to him.

“Jack?”

He didn’t know how long it took, but his vision cleared enough to make out his sister’s face. She was only two years older than him but in that moment she might have been thirty. Dark circles surrounded her eyes like she hadn’t slept for a week. Her hair was a mess and she hadn’t put on any makeup. Jack didn’t mind the last bit; he thought she wore too much.

“Hey sis,” he said. She smiled and he thought she was crying. “What happened?” He tried to get up and his body was wracked with pain. Cassandra’s hands moved to his shoulders and held him against the mattress.

“Shh,” she said. “You just lay still. I need to get the doctor.”

“Was I in an accident?”

“No hon,” she said. “Not an accident.”

Tired, Stressed and Weirdly Productive

Over the last few months I’ve discovered a disturbing trend. Not only do I seem able to work long hours writing, editing, reading and doing the occasional bit of semi-shameless self-promotion, I actually seem to enjoy it. In fact, whenever I’m not doing something that pertains to this writing business, I feel like I’m being lazy. I get antsy, self-deprecating and generally unhappy. Of course, there are exceptions to this rule.

About once a week I feel the need to just push aside a few hours to let the television abuse my gray matter, chat with friends on the phone or go out into the world in an attempt to be social. Also, whenever I get to hang out with my daughter I spend 99% of my time with her and enjoy every sacred minute of it. Outside of these pleasant distractions though, I’ve found that I’m only truly happy when I’m working.

As I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, I slacked off around the holidays and entered 2012 with a feeling of being two laps behind what I should be doing. Since then I’ve been pushing my engine into the red and trying not only to “catch up” on the things I should have done, I’ve been trying to add even more things right on top of it. Part of this effort involved getting back on a reasonable sleep schedule, where in this case that means the sort of a sleep schedule a turn of the last century farmer might have enjoyed. I can now report a resounding success, despite the rather depressing transition.

As futile and self-feating as all this might sound, I think I’ve pulled it off. I’m out in front of the pack with nary a pit stop between me and the finish line. We’ll see how things go.

Anyway, the most noteworthy thing going on this last week was seeing my mother trucked off to the hospital in an ambulance. If you follow me on Twitter you might have seen me worrying about it while trying to not worry about it. The details are many and not what I’d consider entertaining, but I felt the need to thank all of you who sent me encouraging words as well as give you a quick update.

My mother was having severe chest pains, shortness of breath and a variety of other symptoms that were frightening to say the least. She was transported to the hospital and spent a night there. They kept her under observation, gave her a bunch of meds and conducted a battery of tests for which they drew twenty (yes, twenty, I kid you not) vials of blood. Given my mother weighs roughly one hundred pounds, I can only assume they had to wring her out toward the end.

After all that and a sleepless night for those concerned, the conclusion is that she didn’t suffer a heart attack. They sent her home and said we should all “keep an eye on it.”

That’s some impressive bullshit medical advice, right there.

And now some stuff I found on the internet:

  • Eluveitie – A Rose For Epona – I like a great many of this band’s songs. This is one of them.
  • 27b/6 – Funny as hell, but in no way safe for work.
  • The Restart Page – I saw this a while ago, but stumbled on it again this week. Funny if you’re a geek, otherwise you’ll just wonder what the point is.
  • Blogging from A to Z April Challenge – An interesting challenge wherein bloggers commit to writing one post a day, for nearly every day of April. From the site: “Using this premise, you would start beginning April First with a topic themed on something with the letterA, then on April second another topic with the letter B as the theme, and so on until you finish on April thirtieth with the theme based on the letter Z.”

I’m spending the rest of the weekend working on a short story. I also have a bunch of revision work to do, but since there’s always more revision work to do, I don’t even know if I should bother mentioning it.

Have a great weekend!

Waking Up Is Hard to Do

I need a new delivery system for my morning dose of caffeine; perhaps an intravenous drip or nasal spray. Either way, getting up in the mornings has been torturous this week. I’m back to setting my alarm for six again, under the theory that less is more. If I get less sleep, I’ll have more time to do things.

Actually, that’s a bit misleading. Apparently thirty-four is the age at which my body has decided to turn me into a senior citizen. Not only are my various bits and pieces going out of warranty–bad back, bad knees, bad ankles, smoker’s cough, delicate eyes which fear Mr. Sun–I also find it difficult to stay awake much past ten at night and would gladly spend the early afternoon taking a nap. All I need now is to buy a pair of short pants with suspenders to match and cultivate a deep love for shuffleboard.

Anyway, using my fingers, I determined long ago that by going to bed at ten and waking up at six, I get a perfect eight hours of sleep. It’s a pattern I’ve adopted before, and within forty-eight to seventy-two hours I’ve always managed to pass through all five stages of grief.

  • Denial – “Ack! Make it stop! That can’t be the alarm already!”
  • Anger – “Why the hell am I doing this to myself? It’s not fair! Other people get to sleep in!”
  • Bargaining – “Maybe I’ll go to bed early tonight, squeeze another half hour in since I’m usually worthless in the evenings anyway.”
  • Depression – “Why am I even bothering to wake up that early? What’s the point of being awake at all?”
  • Acceptance – “Wow. I got all my work done and it’s not even time for lunch. I can totally read all day!!!”

For reasons beyond my understanding, I’ve woken up at six for the last four or five days in a row and still haven’t passed out of stage four. I feel wrecked, worthless and miserable. By the time the afternoon rolls around, it’s a struggle to keep my eyes open no matter how irresponsible I get with the coffee pot.

I’m going to keep to my self-imposed schedule for another day or two, in the spirit of never giving up, but serious doubts have crept into me. I’m such a zombie throughout most of the day that I can’t help but think that letting myself sleep in would give me more hours of useful time. Then again, maybe I’ll just go out for a few walks despite the weather, on the theory that more exercise leads to better quality sleep.

Hopefully I won’t stagger into the path of an oncoming car.

Review of the Kindle Touch

I’m floating a few degrees off course with this review, opting to discuss a device that lets me read books, rather than an actual book, but don’t blame me. Blame the last three books I tried to read. Each one was so unbelievably bad that I couldn’t finish them.

I hate when I give up like that, it feels like I’ve joined a foot race with nine other out of shape smokers and, upon noticing I’m running dead last, I say to hell with it and trot to the nearest KFC. Sometimes it can’t be helped, though. You read a few paragraphs like these and feel the need to shake something (I’ve changed the words for the dubious purpose of protecting the guilty, but kept the spirit):

Sandra gingerly pushed the small button on her shiny keychain, hearing the gentle “thud” of her car’s door locks. She grasped the handle, pulled open the driver’s side door and slipped quickly behind the wheel. A few moments later, she was guiding her car down the sloping driveway, her eyes flitting alternately between the side view mirrors. She slowly backed into the street, braked suddenly and drove north, toward the center of town.

She took a left onto Church Street and glided past Eastlawn Drive. Sandra briefly stopped at the four-way intersection and looked both ways before turning onto Elm. She suddenly pondered stopping at the gas station for a cup of coffee and quickly decided against it. Too much caffeine made her extremely jumpy. She coasted by the gas station without giving it a second glance and turned right onto Terrace Lane.

Seriously? Are you really going to narrate every little detail of the fifteen minute drive from this woman’s house to her job at the post office? Unless the geography of this particular suburb, the character’s driving habits or her intolerance for caffeine play an important role in the story, just what in the blazes is this scene doing in the book? It’s called “rambling” and unless you’re attractive and buying me drinks, I have no interest in seeing you do it. And what’s with all the adverbs? Were they having a sale?

Of course, it’s difficult for me to write a review for a book I couldn’t finish. Sure, it might be informative for you to learn about those books I thought were so horrid as to warrant abandonment, but such a review couldn’t possibly offer more insight than “I didn’t like it.”

I’m sorry, but even when I write a bad review, I really do try my best to explain why I didn’t like it. When people criticize my own writing, I’m not looking for blanket statements like “it’s crap,” I’m looking for specifics. So despite getting socked in my literary testicles by three godawful books in sequence, I’ll refrain from playing the name game and share my experiences with the Kindle Touch.

I have to confess, when I first caught a glimpse of the e-reader craze looming on the horizon back in 2009, I was filled with dread. I like my books, love them as a matter of fact. In every place I’ve ever called home, I’ve had more bookcases than chairs and collected everything from the complete works of H.P. Lovecraft to more Stephen King novels than I would feel comfortable admitting in mixed company.

“Do away with real books?” I shouted. “I’d sooner shave with a waffle iron!”

Alas, as I said goodbye to 2011, I realized e-books were here to stay. I also realized that since so many independent books only ever see publication as electronic files, I would never be able to sample all the self-published works that were busy changing the literary market. It was very difficult decision, but in the end I decided to let go of my fear and embrace the new technology. I still haven’t told my book dealer friends, though, because they all know where I live.

After doing several hours of research online, I took a ride over to my local Walmart and compared the Kindle, Kindle Touch and Nook Simple Touch side by side. I settled on the Kindle Touch (with special offers) for several reasons. First, a Kindle Touch with the ads cost less than the Nook and the ads are so unobtrusive as to make me wonder what the hell Amazon was thinking. Second, between Barnes & Noble and Amazon, the latter seems to treat their independent authors better. From what I’ve seen, indie books are more noticeable in the Kindle Store than on the Nook’s equivalent and there are more of them. And finally, after twenty minutes searching through both devices’ stores, I found more free classics and out of print books on the Kindle.

Less than an hour after bringing the Kindle Touch home, I had downloaded thirty classics, several indie books and bought a Dean Koontz book I couldn’t find at my favorite used book store. I also realized that having one-touch access to millions of books isn’t the healthiest situation I could find myself in. I feel very much like a mouse in some cruel psychological experiment where I’m given two buttons, and once you push one, the system locks out both for six hours. If I press one button, I get to eat. If I push the other, I get heroin.

Now that I’ve established that the Kindle Store isn’t so much a marketplace as it is the drug pusher standing on the street corner you have to walk past every morning, let’s talk about the actual reading experience.

It took me about an hour and a half to get used to the screen size on the Kindle Touch, but after that it was no more difficult to read than a paper book. In fact, it’s easier in many cases because the first thing I did was jack up the font size to a reasonable level and no I’m not getting old so shut up! My eyes are just very delicate, thank you very much. Seriously, I’ve often come back from the bookstore with a stack of reading material only to find one or two books with print so cramped and light that reading the text took measurable effort. Never again.

That said, when you hear that the Kindle Touch screen gives you “no glare,” you might be wise to take that with a grain of salt. Depending on how I’m sitting, and where the lamps are in reference to the screen, I do get the odd bit of glare that makes me adjust how I’m holding the thing. It’s minor, but it exists.

And lastly, let’s address that battery life thing. Depending on which advertisement you’re reading, a single charge is supposed to last the Kindle Touch for a month. The fine print will tell you that it will last a month if you read for an average of one hour a day and keep the wi-fi turned off. If you’re like me, a person who reads at least three or four hours a day, then wi-fi or not you’ll be charging this thing at least once a week.

Overall, the Kindle Touch has turned out to be the perfect complement to my reading habit. I still hit my used bookstore every other week because the mainstream titles there are several dollars cheaper than the same title would cost as an e-book, but for the classics, indie books and whatever mainstream titles my friend doesn’t have, the Kindle Touch is wonderful.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a button to press.