13: Dead Inside

Sunday 27th September 1998

It was so early in the morning that it was still late at night. In the living room, Lisa was sleeping uneasily on Jack's couch. Something horrible was haunting her dreams - something malevolent, lurking just out of sight of the mind's eye and casting an ominous shadow over what would otherwise have been a very pleasant dream.

In the murky, misty world of dreams, she was standing on the little decorative bridge in Raccoon Park, with Jack at her side. It was a warm summer night, the stars were out, the moon was shining on the water and the air was heavy with the scent of roses. She was looking up at Jack, secretly liking his eyes, his smile, his look of utter devotion, even the fringe of blond hair that he'd deliberately cut to eye-length because she'd once said it looked cute.

Lisa wondered if his eyes looked as beautiful as that in real life, if they really were such a deep, hypnotic sky-blue, or whether it was just the effect of the dream. It occurred to her that she'd never really looked before. Up until now – he'd just met her gaze, and those eyes were so blue, so compelling, she just wanted to lose herself in them forever, to fall and drown in the deep blue.

"I love you," he said, very softly – her brain registered it as Spanish, but her ears swore she'd heard it in English – and suddenly she found herself drawn irresistibly towards him, like a helpless moth to a brightly burning flame.

The kiss felt so good - deliciously, almost painfully sweet. But something didn't feel quite right; all the while she sensed something dark and dreadful behind her, something she couldn't see but could certainly feel. Whatever it was, it was unmistakeably evil.

Lisa turned round, and saw a huge creature, man-shaped but hideously deformed. Its eyes were blank and unseeing, its mouth a cruel snarl, its skin rotting off its enormous form. It gave a roar, grabbed Jack by the throat before she had a chance to react, and hurled her would-be boyfriend into the pond. She screamed as it reached towards her…

…and woke up, still screaming. When she saw an unfamiliar man standing next to her, she screamed even more.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" she yelled.

"Hey, hey! Calm down, kid! I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry, the door was open, and I thought Rosa was in. I've come to see her, is she here?"

"No," said Lisa, breathing out again – she didn't even know that she'd been holding her breath. "No, I'm sorry, she's not. She died at the hospital a few hours ago. You won't find her here."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said the man, looking disappointed. "Well, I guess it explains why her kid's drinking my favourite bar out of business."

"What?" said Lisa, confused. "But Jack's here – isn't he?"

"Nope. He's sitting in the Blackjack bar in uptown, working his way through every bottle of beer in the building. Barman'll be pleased. The curfew's hit business pretty hard. Only a few defiant folks like me out tonight. Well, if Rosa's not here then I'd better go. And you'd better shut that door, kid. It's not safe to sleep with it open all night. Some crazy folks have been walking round here lately. Bye, then."

The man departed, closing the door behind him, leaving Lisa wallowing in a sea of bewilderment. Why had Jack gone out, when he was so worried about being alone, and worried about her being out alone in the dark? Well, she couldn't just leave him to drink himself into a stupor; she had to go and bring him back home again.

Lisa got off the couch and checked the other rooms of the little apartment just to make sure that Jack wasn't there – the man was right, Jack definitely wasn't home. So now she had to brave the possible dangers that the downtown streets held late at night.

"He'd do the same for me," she told herself firmly. Pulling on her coat, she took a deep breath to steel her nerves, and set out to look for Jack.

Exactly seventeen minutes and fifty-one seconds later she found him slumped at the counter of Blackjack, surrounded by empty beer bottles, just as the man had told her.

"Jack!" she exclaimed.

"Lise?" said Jack muzzily, raising his head. "Why you here?"

"My God, how much did you drink?" said Lisa, aghast.

"Uhhh… eight b'ttles, think," he said vaguely, swaying in his seat.

"You let him drink that much?" Lisa shouted at the impassive bartender. "My God, what the hell is wrong with you? It's two o'clock in the goddamn morning and here you are, letting a sixteen-year old kid try to break the record for most liver damage achieved in twenty-four hours!"

"I didn't know he was underage," said the bartender, shrugging. "And besides, business has been dreadful. I have to sell to someone, or my kids go hungry."

"So that makes it okay to let another kid get himself so drunk he can barely speak?" Lisa demanded to know. "Look at him! You tell me how he'd be able to get home safely in that state! If it wasn't for me he'd probably have woken up in a dumpster somewhere, trying to remember who the hell he is and where he lives!"

"Well, you're here," said the bartender shortly. "Now pick him up and get him the hell out of here before I lose my liquor license."

Lisa glared at him, then turned her attention to Jack.

"Come on, hon, let's get you home, huh?" she said, helping him onto his feet. She staggered a little under his weight at first, but managed to support him.

"Who's going to pay for this?" the bartender demanded to know.

Incensed, Lisa slammed a ten-dollar bill on the counter, then helped Jack to stagger out of the bar, throwing the bartender a dirty look as she left.

----------

"Nearly home, Jack," Lisa reassured him, as they turned into Jack's street.

"Thanks, Lise," said Jack indistinctly. "You the greatest inna whole worl'. You prob'ly real mad with me. I know 'm drunk… 'm sorry. Real sorry."

"That's okay," said Lisa. "I'm not angry with you."

And she wasn't. Nobody was more surprised at this than she was. But he'd just lost the last member of his family, and he'd soon be kicked out of his home. As far as she was concerned, he was quite entitled to drown his sorrows in these circumstances – even at two o'clock in the morning.

"You no mad?" said Jack.

"Of course not," said Lisa. "I was worried, though," she added.

"'Bout me?"

"Yes."

"Sorry I scare you."

"Never mind. I'm just glad you're okay. Just don't do it again, right?"

"'Kay. Lise?"

"What?"

"You most beau'ful girl inna world… universe, even. An' I love you."

Lisa couldn't help smiling. She didn't know how much was truth and how much was the beer he'd had, but it was sweet all the same.

Her thoughts skipped back to the dream. Kissing him had been wonderful. Would it be like that in real life, though? The answer was probably not. Now she was almost certain that he loved her, but she wasn't sure if it was the other way around. And it wouldn't be fair to kiss him now, when he was drunk and she didn't even know if she really felt the same as he did.

Even if she did love him, it probably wouldn't work out. They were from two completely different worlds – she was a wealthy uptown girl who'd never wanted for anything, and he'd seen nothing but poverty and hardship in his life. Her parents would never speak to her again, and – well, it just wouldn't be fair on anyone.

It was disappointing, though, to just dismiss any chance of being with him. Part of her thought it would have been really nice to call Jack hers, to be his, to be together for who knows how long.

Oh well. It was nice to dream. But she had to wake up and smell the roses – and not the ones in the dream, either.

Lisa opened the door, and helped him up the stairs to his apartment and through the door into the living room.

"Aunt Rosa, 'm back," Jack called, then through a drunken haze he remembered that she was gone. Although he was back, she wasn't, and she never would be.

"She's gone, Jack," Lisa reminded him gently.

"I know," he murmured. "I jus' rem'ber she be dead. Man, Lise, I feel dead inside. Like those zombies they say be walkin' roun' town. Jus' walkin' round, feelin' nothin'. No happy. No sad. Nothin'. Jus' – blank. Empty. Numb. I no can cry or nothin'. I dunt feel a thin'. That normal?"

"I wouldn't know," said Lisa. "I've never lost anyone before. Come on, Jack, you'd better go to bed and sleep it off."

"Yeah. Got school mañana."

"No we haven't."

"How come?"

"Sunday. And we don't have school on Monday either, because they closed the schools when they declared martial law."

"Right," said Jack sleepily. "Hey, I ain't got a present for you birthday! The shops no be open Sunday… oh, jeez. Sorry."

"That's okay. Buy it Monday morning and come and see me before the party – or after, if you want. Don't worry about my parents being home, they haven't come home from work for days," Lisa assured him. "Now forget about it and go to sleep."

"You ain't gonna go, are you?" said Jack.

"No," said Lisa. "I'll be right here if you need me."

"Right," said Jack again. "'Night."

"Sleep well," said Lisa. "And don't sneak out again. I'm not coming out to look for you twice in one night."

"I won't," he promised, and went to bed.

Since she was no longer tired, having been woken up, Lisa sat down on the couch and watched television for a while. There was nothing on – no change there, Lisa thought – but watching television late at night always made her tired.

Just before she attempted to go back to sleep, Lisa went to check on Jack. He was sleeping soundly in his bed, showing no sign of wanting to wake up any time soon. There was an expression of peace and contentment on his face, as if he was dreaming about something nice.

On a sudden impulse, Lisa bent down and kissed him on the forehead.

"The hell with it," she said fiercely. "I don't care what they think. I don't care if you're from downtown and I'm not. And I don't know if I love you, Jack Carpenter, but I intend to find out."

She left Jack's room, angry with herself and the whole world for letting her think she couldn't have him. She never saw Jack smile in his sleep as the kiss on his forehead filtered into his dreams.