Page 71 of The End of the World As We Know It
“No.Fangoria,” said Alan. Bill’s stare became somehow blanker. “It’s a magazine.”
“You read this magazine?” asked Bill of Derek.
“I fall asleep like three pages into reading anything,” joked Derek. “This is all new to me.”
“Look,” said Alan bluntly. “If you like someone, a character, you get scared for them. You get scaredwiththem. What the Greeks called tragedy. When you don’t like someone, like a character you fucking hate, like someone who reminds you of that dick from work or a jackass neighbor, you enjoy watching them die, getting their just desserts. What the Greeks would pair with comedy.”
“What does any of this have to do with slasher killers?” asked Bill, becoming more confused by the minute.
“What all this means is that sometimes it’s okay to like watching slasher killers kill the fuck out of some annoying prick in a wheelchair like Franklin, and at the same time be scared for Sally. These guys become not just the figures in our nightmares, but expressions of our frustration and rage at how unfair life is.”
“Wait,” said Bill, struck by a bolt of inspiration. “You’re saying the slashers are us. And the guys chasing us.”
“They can be, yeah,” said Alan. “You know… metaphorically.”
“Fuuuuuck,” Bill said, sighing out the entire middle of the word.
“Shit, man,” said Derek. “You got all that from a magazine?”
“Where the hell else am I gonna get it, doofus?” Alan smarted off.
“Fair enough.”
Bill nodded. “Y’all mind if I just sit here for a spell?”
“Mi casa, you casa,” said Derek.
No one moved, and for ten minutes they all sat in silence, sipping their beers, Alan and Derek growing ever more nervous as each wordless minute ticked by. The tension grew so thick, it boiled over inside of Derek and words just burst out of his mouth. “So, what would you do differently?” he asked.
Bill and Alan looked up. Derek was looking right at Bill, so everyone knew who he meant.
“Do what differently?” he asked in return.
“You know. With all this Captain Trips nonsense. If you had things to do differently, what would you do?”
“Nothing,” said Bill.
“Nothing at all?”
“Derek,” said Alan pointedly.
“No, it’s okay,” said Bill. “I know what he’s asking.”
“Yeah, but it ain’t any of our business,” said Alan.
“The hell it ain’t. Y’all invite me into your home, take me in as one of your own. Hell, I’ve spent more time with you two beautiful clowns than any other grown man I’ve known in my whole adult life. Least I can do is answer a real question like that. You mean Sophie and the girls. Knowing what I know now, what would I do to protect them?”
“Yeah,” said Derek. “Yeah. That’s about the size of it.”
“Nothing I could do. You, me, Alan. The three of us are just immune or something. God’s will, I guess. Whatever the fuck that is. I’ve never been the churchy type. But God, no God, that sickness was gonna take ’em one way or another. They was just born in the wrong fucking place at the wrong fucking time. But I reckon that was always gonna be the case.”
“Does that make you mad?” asked Derek.
“Every goddamned day.”
Derek nodded and the three sat in silence finishing their beers.
Before he left, Bill looked at the boys and cocked his head a little,like he was conflicted whether or not to even speak. Then the thought got the best of him, and he scratched his neck, squinting his eyes, trying to make his most intrusive thoughts sound casual. “Y’all…” he began, taking a long pause. “Y’all been having strange dreams or anything?”
