Ghosted - A Novel Part 30

He tries the other hand.

Nothing.

"She'd have followed him anywhere."

He slides down the wall, sitting with his back to the window.

He can see her now as she circles in the clearing, Warren's dark mane flaring out. They turn, then straighten. She looks once at Mason, who is on the back of Zevon, grinning at the edge of the cliff. She digs her heels in. "Yahhhh!" she shouts, but the sound is swept back as she charges. There's no expression on her face. Her eyes flash silver, and Warren just gallops-straight past Mason, into the air.

The noise is awful, like an avalanche of horse-the hooves cutting downward through rock and soil, the whinny a desperate wail. But Sarah is silent.

Mason sees the fall-Warren tumbling, hooves over head over Sarah-a monstrosity of limbs, hair and eyes flas.h.i.+ng in the moonlight, the sickening crunch as the whinnying stops.

He slides off Zevon's back-then down the cliff on his a.s.s, a gutless, moonlit descent.

61. I'd like to see myself through someone else's eyes.

"You know what I think?" says the voice of Chaz. says the voice of Chaz. "It's not about Sarah at all. She was in the hospital for a while. They thought she might be paralyzed, but it turned out better than that. She's not going to be in the Olympics or anything, but she can walk. The horse died, but it's not that either. It's all about him." "It's not about Sarah at all. She was in the hospital for a while. They thought she might be paralyzed, but it turned out better than that. She's not going to be in the Olympics or anything, but she can walk. The horse died, but it's not that either. It's all about him."

"How?" says the doctor. says the doctor.

"You spend your life jumping off little cliffs, but there's not always someone watching, and then you're landing badly, and it starts to hurt. Finally, after years of busting yourself up you get to the big cliff-but it's someone else who goes over. And then everyone pays attention, but now you're not the hero. Not by a long shot. So then what happens? You start busting yourself up for real."

Chaz takes a drink, a long slow one. Then his voice is lower.

"Mason's been going over the edge since the day he didn't. But it would have happened anyway."

The doctor speaks: "What do you mean?" "What do you mean?"

The song is almost over.

"The swallows, Sarah, Warren going over the edge-they're all real, but they're also a story. Without them, there'd be a different story. Sooner or later, he'd have found a way to fall. Anti-hero is a lot easier than hero. And if those are the only choices you've given yourself ..." Sooner or later, he'd have found a way to fall. Anti-hero is a lot easier than hero. And if those are the only choices you've given yourself ..."

The doctor cuts in. "Is this what you'd tell him, if you were his doctor?" "Is this what you'd tell him, if you were his doctor?"

There is a pause. "You know what I'd tell him?" "You know what I'd tell him?" It sounds like Chaz is taking a sip. It sounds like Chaz is taking a sip. "You're f.u.c.ked up and haunted, but not by what you think you are. And if you ever get clean, you might have a chance." "You're f.u.c.ked up and haunted, but not by what you think you are. And if you ever get clean, you might have a chance."

"Ghosted," says Dr. Francis. says Dr. Francis.

"What?"

"He's been ghosted...."

There is a boom boom, and then it all goes quiet.

Mason is on his feet, a dented can of beans in his hands. There is no more talking, no more music. The intercom system is pulverized. He stands there shaking.

And then a voice behind him. "Come here to me," w.i.l.l.y says.

He turns and walks towards her. He drops the can and climbs beneath the sheet, curling into her.

"It's going to be okay," she says.

He s.h.i.+vers.

"What song was that?"

Fire Lake, he tries to say.

66.

When they talk it sounds like ghosts having a conversation-slow, ethereal, disjointed-but ghosts who like each other....

"What happened ... to your throat?"

"Crushed windpipe ... stupid bar fight. Are you all right?"

"Yes."

"How did Chaz find you?"

"You're the one who left, silly ... I've been here the whole time."

"Here ... behind the wall?"

"Here behind the wall."

"I thought you were ... with Bethany."

"I wanted to get clean for you."

"Me, too...."

"We can do it together."

"All right."

"You seem sad, or angry."

"Not at you ..."

Their voices move in the dark together, stumbling and drifting along.

67.

This time he is standing, and partially dressed-jeans and cowboy boots-holding onto the bed. "I demand our release!" he announces.

"You got your voice back!" says the doctor.

"Then I guess you heard what I said."

Chaz laughs, but Mason doesn't look at him.

"He's angry," says w.i.l.l.y.

"You're not a prisoner here," says the doctor.

"Well, we can't get out of here. So what do you you call it?" call it?"

"Jesus Christ!" says Chaz. "I had to reset the scanner so she could get in and out." He nods towards the doctor. Mason just glares.

"You've been through a lot," says Dr. Francis. "It's normal to feel anxious, confused, even scared. It happens during detox."

"I'm not f.u.c.king scared."

"Would you rather not be here?"

"I don't f.u.c.king know."

"For Christ's sake!" says Chaz. "You're injured. You're both sick. The psycho's out there and he's got your address. But if you want to leave ..."

"No," says Mason. He looks at the doctor. "But things are going to change.... You'll scan our hands-both of us." He looks down at w.i.l.l.y, who smiles. "And what the h.e.l.l is she on?"

"Sedatives," says the doctor. "Both of you are. It's a difficult transition...."

"Well, give her less," says Mason, "so we can have a conversation. Like normal people."

w.i.l.l.y nods in agreement.

"And give me f.u.c.king none! No more drugs at all!" He looks at Dr. Francis. "We're in a f.u.c.king cave for Christ's sake! Can't you lose your licence?"

"We've all got things to lose," says the doctor.

Mason waves a hand, then takes the other one off the bed. He steadies himself and looks at them both. "From now on," he says. "I'll be the one looking after her."

Chaz steps towards him. "Are you f.u.c.king kidding me ...?" But the doctor cuts him off.

"All right," she says, looking at Mason, who is having trouble standing. "You're through the worst of it now-physically at least. If you want to play doctor, I'll show you what to do." She turns to w.i.l.l.y. "Is that okay with you?"

"Yes," says w.i.l.l.y.

The doctor fixes Mason with her eyes. "And you-are you committed to this? To getting clean and helping w.i.l.l.y?"

"Yes," he says.

62. I like the smell of burning rubber.

It feels like an alien ceremony-the scanning of the hands. No one knows just what to say. "Remember," says Chaz. "The right hand gets you in. The left one gets you out."

And after that they're left alone, Mason and w.i.l.l.y, in their cave within the Cave.

"I love you," says w.i.l.l.y.

"It's going to be all right."

Their hands seem to glow as they hold each other tight.

68.

He is still in the woods, but catches sight of the road ahead. He sees what it'll be like: painful, shameful, remorseful, lost, scary, grief-stricken and just plain sad. In some ways the road will be worse than the woods. But there will be good things, too. Even now there are moments of elation-and then just an emptying, water flowing from his eyes without any emotion at all: a pure physical purge that makes his muscles burn and his head pound, like vomiting without being able to stop. He knows w.i.l.l.y feels it, too, though hers is different. At one point, in her delirium, he hears her humming "Fire Lake." It is lovely and haunting. He presses against her and the emptying subsides.

When he's sure she's deep in sleep, he sets himself a mission-his first one out of the QT room. He locates the Sony tape deck on a shelf with the cans of beans. He picks it up and presses his palm to the panel on the wall. The door slides back and he rolls on through.

He's on the other side now. But for a moment he doesn't move-curled up behind the bar. Then he stands and turns and looks at the mirror. His own face shocks him-drawn and bloated at the same time. His eyes look intent-but on what, he doesn't know. He tries to look through, to see w.i.l.l.y behind the gla.s.s.

But of course he can't. Wouldn't know if she was screaming.

He limps across the floor. At the DJ booth, Bob Seger's Against the Wind Against the Wind is still on the turntable. He plugs in the Sony, takes out the Gowan ca.s.sette and finds a roll of masking tape. Thank G.o.d for old technology. Play/Record. He drops the needle in the groove. is still on the turntable. He plugs in the Sony, takes out the Gowan ca.s.sette and finds a roll of masking tape. Thank G.o.d for old technology. Play/Record. He drops the needle in the groove.

Scratch, scratch. Piano. Acoustic guitar.

When the singing starts, he starts to get dizzy: the heavy scent of booze and cigarettes, sweet sensory metal dripping down his throat. Five years and this is the longest he's been sober. It hurts like f.u.c.king h.e.l.l.

But man, this song is good.

The wall slides back and he gets up off the floor "Where have you been?" says w.i.l.l.y.

"I got you something." He plugs in the tape deck.

"I wish you hadn't left."