Thoughts sticky in his head. Couldn't think. He walked to the bus station, not feeling the cold. Not feeling anything.
On the bus Craig laid his head against the window, closed his eyes, saw the blood spattered on the wall and his father's lifeless form. He squeezed his eyes shut but the image wouldn't go away. He moaned, a low moan of pain from deep in his chest.
Like yesterday, only yesterday standing on the railroad tracks with the train rushing toward him, the roar of the train filling his head with salvation, the thought of suicide crept in again.
The gentle rocking of the bus lulled him, made him feel almost sleepy. He hadn't slept in well over 24 hours, running on burned out adrenaline.
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"Sean, maybe we should tell someone," Emma looked at him, tried to catch his eye, but he was looking down.
"I don't think so,"
"Why? What are we gonna be able to do alone? We probably won't even be able to find him," Emma's ernest voice almost getting through to him. And she was right. What could they possibly do alone?
He shook his head, looked up.
"I know you're right. But it doesn't feel right. We've got to go alone. We could find him. I know it,"
It was crazy. Emma knew, she knew, but Craig was awful cute and trying to find him would be a fun little forbidden adventure.
"Okay, Sean. I'll go with you,"
At the next bell as the hallways flooded with kids Sean and Emma blended in with them, then slipped out the side door when no one was looking.
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Joey drove with his usual steadiness, gave the side mirrors quick little adjustments. He felt much better having Snake in the passenger seat.
"Maybe he's lying," Snake said.
"I don't think so. You should have seen him. White as a goddamn ghost,"
He pulled up to his house and parked the car, and exchanged a look with Snake that reminded him of when they were in trouble as kids, the look said, 'what the fuck are we going to do?'
"Craig!" Joey blinked, looked around, called to him again, "Craig!" He'd expected him to be right where he left him.
"I don't think he's here anymore," Snake said.
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He did sleep. The bus rocked him to sleep, and it wasn't so much falling asleep as being sucked into sleep, and in his dream he was in the cemetery again and then at his house. Only this time his dad held the gun pointed at Craig's chest, and he stared at him with his narrowed little eyes.
"When I say six o'clock I mean six o'clock," Albert Manning said, and in his sleep Craig flinched.
"I don't care how great the light is," and he pulled the trigger. Craig jerked awake and was completely disoriented, blinking and looking around, unable to make sense of his surroundings.
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"Let's call him, maybe he's just home sick or something," Emma said. Sean nodded, hoping sickness was why he would be home and not a concussion and broken bones.
The phone rang and rang, and Sean shook his head.
"Well, maybe no one is answering. Before we go to British Columbia we should at least see if he's home," Emma said. Sean nodded.
"I guess you're right,"
Neither knew where he lived but they called information and found out. Looking for the house among all the manicured lawns and elegant houses Emma whistled.
"Nice part of town," she said. Sean smiled a crooked little smile. It was nice, alright. And it was nice to see that rich people had problems, too, something that hadn't occurred to him before he met Craig.
"This is it," Emma said, seeing the number on the mailbox, and the shiny metal letters that spelled out Albert Manning, M.D.
They knocked and no one answered. Emma shifted from one foot to the other. They knocked louder and still no answer.
"We could break in," Sean said, eyeing the windows that were low to the ground.
"There's probably an alarm. Look at this house, Sean,"
"Try the door, then,"
It opened, and they stepped inside. They blinked in the dim light, took in the gleaming oak furniture, the paintings on the walls, the thick beige carpet.
"Do you smell something?" Emma said, wrinkling her nose.
"No,"
They walked slowly from the front hall to the kitchen.
"Craig!" Sean said. Silence.
"Craig, are you here!" Emma said, her voice projecting like she was on a stage.
"He's not here. I told you," Sean said.
"Maybe he's in his room," Emma said, "let's look upstairs,"
The stairs went up and then there was a landing and they turned. At this landing Emma saw Albert slumped over and bloody, blood on the walls, his eyes open and staring like a doll.
"Oh my…oh my God," she said.