Page 102 of The Executioners Three
“Sure,” Theo replied—because what else was there to say? They’d done everything for his mom too. But that hadn’t made a difference in the end. “Can I… see her?” He waved to the closed door.
Room 34, where somehow, in the hour since Aunt Rita had called, everything had gone horribly wrong.
“I’m afraid not.” The doctor wagged her head. “I’m sorry, but we had to move her body to the morgue already.”
Theo swallowed, searching for the right words to respond with. The doctor’s expression was so sympathetic it was starting to piss him off. It was like this woman expected him to cry—like she wanted him to beupset and howling and reacting more strongly than he was. But how could he freak out right now? None of this felt real. Not the plastic bag with beef jerky clutched in his left hand, nor the freshly busted knuckles on his right.
His grandmother might be a corpse cooling in the morgue, but all Theo had to go on right now were memories—and in those memories, she was very much alive.
So instead of a meltdown, Theo opted for a question: “Do you know where my aunt went?” There was no sign of Aunt Rita here, and he hadn’t seen her squad car in the parking lot.
“I’m afraid I don’t,” the doctor answered, her overdone sympathy giving way to overdone thoughtfulness. Squinting, she turned to the nearest nurse, a man focused on his clipboard. “Joseph, do you know where the sheriff went?”
“I haven’t seen her since we told her about her mother.” That was all Joseph said. Nosorry for your lossorI wish I could help you. He didn’t even look up from his clipboard.
Yet Theo found he preferred that blunt honesty to the doctor’s squinching pseudo-sympathy.
After gruffthank-yous for both the doctor and nurse, he left room 34 behind. The plastic bag rustled with each step. An awful sound. Overloud in Theo’s skull as he crossed the waiting room. As he boarded an elevator, thumb bouncing against his thigh. Then as he left the hospital entirely.
Maybe if you’d driven faster,he thought. Maybe if you hadn’t made out with Freddie Gellar or fought with those Berm High shits, then you could have reached her before she died.
All the way across the parking lot, the inner accusations spun. On the drive through downtown, past the lakeshore, and finally onto the Fortin Prep campus.
You were too slow, Theo. Too slow, too shitty, too behind.
He picked the farthest parking spot from the dorms. No lights. Only forest and shadows and untouched snow.
You were too slow.He parked the car.Too slow, too shitty, too behind. And now Grandma’s gone, and you’ll never get to say goodbye.
“Dammit,” he whispered, turning off the car. Silence thundered in.
You did this, Theo. Because everything you touch turns to shit. You did this, and now you get to live with it.
“Dammit,” he repeated, louder now. Then he snatched the plastic bag off the passenger seat and kicked outside. Cold poured over him. The snow had stopped falling, but there was enough sprinkled down to brighten the night to an eerie glow.
Theo stalked toward the nearest trees and launched the bag of beef jerky. Without waiting to hear if it landed, he stalked away. Past his Silver Sweetheart, as busted as it was, and toward the nearest path. He would go to the library. Not because he needed to but because it was better than sitting in his dorm room with the empty walls and people like Davis lurking next door.
Theo’s footsteps crunched across the snow. It was slick, but he didn’t let that slow him. He walked faster. Faster. Until soon, he was flat-out running into the mausoleum gardens. Past snow-dusted roses and the lamppost where he’d met Freddie Gellar a lifetime ago.
The loose brick got him. The one he’d warned Freddie about. It seemed to leap up and knock him down.
His footing failed. He flew toward the sign. His palms hit the marble. His chin too. And just like that, he was on all fours, his face right against the wordsLe pouvoir réside dans le service.
“Dammit,” he wheezed between breaths. Snowmelt wet his fingers. His chin throbbed, and he wanted to scream that none of this should be happening.
Why him? Why now?
Theo shoved roughly to standing. He wiped his wet hands on his pants. Then dragged a sleeve over his face. He wouldn’t cry here. He wouldn’t feel. He’d just get to the library and lose himself in the cellar where everything made sense.
Yet as he limped away from the sign, he spotted the brick that had tripped him.
It had torn free from the path and now rested a few feet away. Frowning, Theo’s gaze shot to where the paver had been, to the dark hole now gaping upward.
Something glittered inside. It made Theo swallow, and, for a brief flicker of time, he forgot all about the ringing ache in his palms or the snow that had soaked into his pants.
In fact, as Theo approached the hole, a new feeling swelled in. A piercing sense that there was something he ought to be doing right now. Something important that he’d forgotten about. Like maybe he’d hidden this thing here a long, long time ago in hopes that he would one day be able to use it.
He slid his hand into the gap in the bricks. His fingers touched cold iron. Then he curled his grip around it and pulled the fist-sized item free. Moonlight glittered over it. Dirt too, since it had been hidden beneath a brick for who knew how many decades. Perhaps it had once had a shape—one that was distinct and recognizable—but now it was just a worn-down lump of freezing iron.
