LAST WEEK: Jim comes to San Francisco to visit his brother Jackson, and steals one of Gabriel’s necklaces from the Fates’ occult shop.
Read last week’s installment here. See all installments here. Read the next installment here.
Chapter 81
River
San Francisco — 1985
Faith
It is 2:00 am at Bert’s. Thanatos has left. Jackson and his partner are not at their usual table. Except for two high school kids whispering in a distant corner, Pam and River are alone. Pam pours River coffee. Over the handle of the sturdy China cup, their hands meet.
“This really is dreadful coffee, you know.”
Pam dimples. “We have special terrible-coffee-making classes at Bert’s. It takes a lot of practice to make coffee this bad.”
“Well, you’re real good at it.”
Pam giggles.
“I brought you some raisin oatmeal cookies,” River says, with absolutely no hope that Pam will taste them, even though he has mixed in memories of a night so sweet, just thinking of it might leave you breathless.
“They look like chocolate chips,” Pamela smiles. “Raisins where chocolate chips should be are one of the reasons I have issues with faith.”
River is about to remind her of the chocolate chip cookies she had refused only last week when she leans across the counter and kisses him. Her mouth tastes fresh and cold. It makes River think of the mist that hung in the redwoods, so impenetrable the truth could be right in front of you and you wouldn’t even see it.
“Wonder where Jackson is,” River says, crumbling up a saltine for Huck. “Maybe with all the crime in the city, he has to cut down on the donuts, and his silent partner has to wake up. I swear I’ve never seen his eyes open.” River considers. “I must have seen him awake when he and Jackson questioned me, but I can’t remember. I guess my mind was otherwise occupied. Hey, you must see him walk in or out. What does he look like?”
“His eyes are glazed,” said Pam.
“So long as they don’t have sprinkles on top…”
A night wind blows into the diner, ruffling the napkins and leafing through the pages of Pam’s order pad. Jackson stands in the doorway, wind whipping round him like a cloak. His eyes are wide and unseeing.
“What—” River begins.
“We found another body,” Jackson says. He’s swaying as if he has no center, as if he might fall at any moment and never rise.
“Oh, that’s terrible!” Pam says. She and River exchange glances. Jackson, after all, has seen many bodies, especially lately. The scene must have been unique to make him react so strongly.
“Are you okay, buddy?” River asks. The policeman looks lifeless. River walks over to Jackson, propelling him gently inside. The large man allows himself to be led to the counter and pushed onto a stool. He buries his head in his hands.
“I found him,” he says. “It was Jim. Jim, my baby brother, drained of all his blood, with two goddamned puncture marks in his neck, and chain marks around his throat, just like the rest. He came out here because he wanted to see me.” Jackson’s shoulders shake. “I never even got to see him,” he rasps. “My baby brother…. Never got to say good-by…. Or even hello.”
River pats his shoulder awkwardly.
“Here,” he says, reaching inside his coat pocket and pulling out a crumpled packet of five-spice walnuts. “This will make you feel better. Really.”
Jackson’s eyes are full of tears. “I don’t want no goddamned sweets, River,” he says, but he unrolls the packet and pops a walnut into his mouth. His eyes grow dreamy. He smiles, sad and calm as an autumn sunset.
“I remember when he was born. He used to whimper at night… when he grew up, he was wild, but he could make you laugh… Mimic people… the way they’d talk, the way they’d walk.… He’d have us laughing so hard, we’d cry. He’d imitate Mr. Meggers, the Dean, even Pop sometimes… I would try not to laugh…Try to be tough… like Pop.… Tried not to show him how God-damned funny he really was… and now he’s dead.” Jackson’s face crumbles.
“Go home,” River says. “I’ll drive you.”
River gently puts an arm under Jackson, raising him to his feet.
“Maybe,” Pam says, “he’ll visit you in dreams. Sometimes my old nanny visits me. Once, we spent a whole lifetime together in a single night. And maybe we really did. Maybe we are the dreams, and they, the dreamers. Maybe dream time is simply another reality?”
“Nightmares are more like it,” growls Jackson. But his face is peaceful.
In the wind, Jackson hears a voice. “Don’t regret the past or mourn the future,” says Jim. “Take joy in the fact that you reached out to me across years of misunderstanding, and for one brief moment, I touched your hand.”
Jackson stands unmoving. He feels a touch and hopes it’s not just a breeze.
“I’ve got just the thing for dreams,” River says, propelling Jackson out into the night.
Huck flies behind them. “Jackson,” he caws mournfully.
Jackson leans against the door of the patrol car. River wonders where his silent partner is, but this seems no time to ask.
“I don’t think you should drive,” River says. Jackson reminds him of a deflated balloon.
“I know,” he nods. “You drive.”
He hands River a black leather key chain with a silver badge.
I’ve always wanted to drive one of these, thinks River. I’d like to put on the siren and go screaming through the night.
“Go ahead, River,” Jackson says.
River starts. “What?”
“Go ahead, switch on the siren and floor it.”
River flushes. Had something in his face betrayed his desire?
“It’s okay,” Jackson says. “Every guy wants to. It’s like having a date with Marilyn Monroe. You’ve been a friend to me. River. That doesn’t happen much. ‘Specially with people I arrest. Besides, if not for you, I never would have written to Jim. We might never have connected.”
If not for me, River thinks, me and my damn muffins, Jim might never have come out here. He might still be alive.
“Anyway, I want to get home and sleep, so floor it, buddy.”
River doesn’t wait for another invitation. Flicking on a switch, he pushes the siren and accelerates. They soar through the night, painting the fog in blue and red. River throws back his head and whoops, startling grief away. Jackson grins.
River leaves Jackson at his door, giving him brownies that guarantee deep sleep and good dreams. After two brownies, a shot of scotch, and a Xanax, Jackson drifts away. In the night, in the darkness, Jim is waiting for him, young and strong.
He laughs at Jim’s antics. He knows everything Jim has done, and it doesn’t matter one bit. The bad boy from Healdsburg and the one who has done everything right are friends, brothers at last.
Jackson awakes, his face damp with loss. On his pillow lies a gold and silver coin and a crystal teardrop. It shoots kaleidoscopic prisms of light around his room, clothing the morning in memory.
Chapter 82
Jim
On the Banks of the River Styx — 1985
The Crossing
Jim is standing on the rocky shore of a dark underground river. The only sound is the constant thrum of pebbles which gently lapping waves draw back and fling up the high strand.
There is a whisper, the sound of a shadow gliding over hard round stones. Against the blackness he sees a man, tall and lean.
“Kristjan,” breathes Jim, “Oh, Kristjan, it’s you.” The shade raises hollow eyes to Jim. They do not glow in the darkness. This is no skinwalker. These are Kristjan’s eyes, sad pale caverns in his wasted echo of a face.
Beyond sight, something is making small circles in the dark river. Tiny waves beat against the shore. Out in the blackness, a golden light hovers. Its flickering glow reflects off the expanding swells, shooting beams of light around the cavern. Jim can just make out a dim outline lit by a lantern. A tall man is polling through the water toward them. He wears a cloak and stands perfectly balanced, not even swaying, in the small craft.
When he reaches the shore, the boatman holds out a skeletal hand, palm up, dark, transparent skin, like a night onion, stretched taut over bone. Wordlessly, he points to the coin around Jim’s wrist. Jim removes the coin, placing it in the ferryman’s waiting palm. He watches it vanish beneath the lucent flesh. Jim steps onto the boat. The boatman begins to pole away.
“No,” Jim whispers. “Wait.” He reaches toward Kristjan, who’s glowing like stardust in the night. The boat rocks violently. The boatman shakes his head. He opens his palm, it’s empty, but beneath his skin Jim’s coin flashes briefly, a sun under night skin.
Jim’s heart no longer beats, but it’s still warm. From under his shirt, he pulls his second coin and hands it to the ferryman. As it vanishes under his skin, Jim holds his hand out to Kristjan. He takes it and steps into the boat which glides smooth as glass, back into the waiting darkness.
Above the boat, the shades of crows and pigeons soar, night rainbow feathers beating silently. Shadows of wolves race over the water on weightless feet.
On a distant shore, small round huts dot the beach. Smoke wafts through the air, carrying memories of cold nights, distant falls, and forgotten winters. From the beach and woods, childish laughter rises, mingling with the haze like partials of happiness. In the shade of trees taller than memory and older than time, Amimi is waiting.
Watch the author read this week’s installment in the video below:
NEXT WEEK: River feels his absence like hunger. There is nothing, no touch of a caress in the gentle wind, no whisper from beyond. River is discovering places in his heart that did not exist until sorrow created them.
Edited by Mitchelle Lumumba and Sophie Gorjance.
E.E. King is cohost of the MetaStellar YouTube channel's Long Lost Friends segment. She is also a painter, performer, writer, and naturalist. She’ll do anything that won’t pay the bills, especially if it involves animals. Ray Bradbury called her stories “marvelously inventive, wildly funny and deeply thought-provoking. I cannot recommend them highly enough.” She’s been published widely, including Clarkesworld and Flametree. She also co-hosts The Long Lost Friends Show on MetaStellar's YouTube channel. Check out paintings, writing, musings, and books at ElizabethEveKing.com and visit her author page on Amazon.