Chapter 36
Greg kept his silence while Dustin drove them back to Cathy's house. When they reached their destination, Dustin turned off the engine and didn't move for a moment. Then he looked at Greg.
“Let me do the talking,” he said.
“Okay.”
“I mean it. If she asks you something, don't answer. Look at the floor. Count something.”
Greg understood why. If Cathy asked him a direct question about how the deal was broken, he would tell her. Not because he wanted to, but because he'd never really figured out how to lie convincingly. “Okay,” he said again.
They got out of the truck.
Dustin knocked.
Nothing happened for long enough that Greg wondered if Cathy was asleep.
Finally, the door opened.
Cathy wore a bathrobe over a faded t-shirt. Her eyes went to Dustin, then Greg, then Dustin.
“How did it go?” she asked.
“Let's move to the kitchen,” Dustin suggested.
She looked at him for a few seconds and then she stepped aside.
Together, they went into the kitchen. Cathy didn't offer coffee this time. She leaned back against the counter, crossed her arms, and waited.
Dustin sat. Greg took the chair beside him and put the clipboard face-down in his lap. He didn't want to see the blank page again. He didn't want his expression to betray him.
“It's done,” Dustin said. “The deal is broken.”
Cathy didn't move, but her breath caught. “How?”
“I had a nice chat with the demon.”
Cathy's hand found the counter behind her. “You talked to him?”
“Yeah. He agreed to void the contract.”
The clock ticked. Greg stared at the floor. Beige linoleum. There was nothing to count.
“He just agreed?” Cathy asked in disbelief.
“Sure did.”
“I don't understand.”
Greg kept his eyes on the linoleum.
“I gave him a good reason,” Dustin said. “I told him I didn't want the protection. That I wanted to be mortal. That I had things I needed to be alive for.” He paused. “I think he liked that.”
None of it was a lie. Every word was true. Dustin had said those things, the demon had responded to them, the contract was voided. There was just a piece in the middle that Dustin had left out, and because nobody had asked Greg directly, the omission sat in the room untouched.
Greg touched it, though. He felt the shape of it in his lap where the clipboard was.
Cathy unfolded her arms. Slowly. “What about my soul?” she asked quietly.
“It's yours,” Dustin finished.
Something moved across Cathy's face. For a breath, Greg wondered if she was going to cry, but the moment passed.
“I also pulled out of Devil's Needle,” Dustin said.
Cathy's eyes sharpened. “What?”
Dustin shrugged as if it was no big deal. “Like I said, I have things I need to be alive for.”
Cathy's face crumpled.
She pressed a hand over her mouth and turned toward the counter. Her shoulders shook.
Greg should not be watching. He directed his gaze back at the linoleum but he could still hear Cathy's ragged breathing, a sign of her struggle for composure.
Dustin's chair scraped as he moved across the kitchen.
“I'm sorry,” Dustin said. “I'm sorry I scared you. I'm sorry I've been —”
“Don't.” Cathy's voice was muffled. “Don't apologize. Just stay.”
“I will,” Dustin promised.
And Greg tried hard not to think of his clipboard.
All he could do was to remain very still while Dustin hugged his mother and made plans he wasn't sure he could keep,
After a while Cathy pulled back. She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand and looked over Dustin's shoulder at Greg.
“Thank you,” she said.
Greg's stomach dropped. “I didn't —” He stopped himself. I didn't do anything was a lie. He'd done something enormous. But you're welcome was wrong too, because she was thanking him for the wrong thing.
“Dustin did the hard part,” he said.
His left eye twitched.
Dustin glanced at him. Greg looked at the floor.
“He helped,” Dustin told Cathy. “I couldn't have done it without him.”
Cathy studied Greg for a moment. Then her shoulders loosened. “We should all probably get some sleep.”
Sleep sounded really good just about now.
They bade Cathy good night and went back to Dustin's room, which looked exactly as they had left it earlier.
Dustin sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots. He moved slowly, like the night had finally caught up with him — the cemetery, the demon, the phone call, all of it settling into his body at once.
Greg set his clipboard on the desk. Still face-down. He undressed and got into bed beside Dustin, who pulled him against his chest, his arm across Greg's ribs, his nose against the back of Greg's neck.
“Stop thinking,” Dustin murmured. “Whatever it is. Stop.”
Dustin's breathing slowed and his arm got heavier and the room was dark and warm and quiet. Greg almost waited for Dustin's hands to move, for Dustin to demand something more.
He didn't, though. Dustin just held him and slept.
Greg closed his eyes.
When Greg woke up again, something was wrong.
The feeling originated from his clipboard.
Greg stared at it across the room.
Then, slowly, he slid out from under Dustin's arm and walked to the desk. He picked up the clipboard and turned it over.
The page that had been blank was no longer blank.
WELLS, Dustin
Status: Active — Collection Scheduled
Death Date: Wednesday, October 23
Collection Window: 2:57 PM — 3:12 PM
Location: Garrett's Grocery, 414 Third St., Colorado
Priority: Overdue — Expedited
Greg read it twice.
October 23. That was…
That was today.
Dustin was scheduled to be collected today. With expedited priority.
Greg's heart stopped in his chest. He needed to breathe. He needed to fix this. But how… how?
There had to be something he could do.
Anything.
Trying very hard not to panic, Greg put the clipboard down and left the bedroom because he couldn't look at Dustin and think rationally at the same time.
He went into the bathroom and shut the door. Then he gripped the sink with both hands and looked into the mirror.
His reflection looked terrible. His hair was flat on one side and sticking up on the other. There were shadows under his eyes and his glasses were on the desk next to the clipboard so his face looked bare and wrong.
“Okay,” he whispered to his reflection. “Okay.”
The system was coming for Dustin.
What could Greg do about that?
An image of Sarah rose unbidden in his mind. Sarah Meadows. Dustin had saved her from collection.
Could Greg do for Dustin what Dustin had done for Sarah?
The system had skipped over Sarah and calculated a new death date for her after she'd evaded her death.
That might be the key.
If Dustin naturally evaded his death rather than his death being prevented by demonic means… would he be skipped as well?
Greg considered telling Dustin what he'd read on he clipboard. Death couldn't come for Dustin at the grocery store if Dustin never entered said store…
But the system would likely consider that cheating as well.
Greg drew air deep into his lungs.
No, he couldn't tell Dustin anything. He had to let things play out as they should and interfere at the last second.
He had to keep a secret.
Greg looked at his reflection and tried to arrange his features into an expression that communicated I am having a normal morning and nothing is wrong.
The result was deeply unconvincing. He looked like a man being held at gunpoint and told to smile.
He tried again. Less teeth.
Marginally better. Still not good.
This is fine. Everything is fine.
From the bedroom, he heard the creak of the mattress. Dustin was waking up.
Greg splashed water on his face, dried it with a towel, and went back to the bedroom.
Dustin was sitting up in bed, squinting in the gray light. His hair was worse than Greg's. His shoulder — the bad one — was held stiffly, and he rotated it once and hissed through his teeth.
“Hey.” Dustin's voice was rough with sleep.
“Good morning!” Greg said—much too brightly.
Dustin shot him an odd look. “You okay?”
“Yes. Very okay. Extremely okay.” Greg said with great conviction and an even brighter smile. He couldn't help it. He couldn't make his face look normal. Quick, he had to change the topic. “How's your shoulder?”
Dustin was still looking at him. “Fine.”
“You should ice it.”
“Nah.”
“I could get you ice.”
“Greg.”
“Yes?”
“What's wrong with you this morning?”
“Nothing's wrong. Everything is okay. Extremely okay!”
“You've said that before.”
“Because it's true!”
Dustin did not look at all convinced, but fortunately, he chose not to keep asking. Maybe he was too tired, or maybe he didn't have the energy to pry open another crisis after last night. “Okay, weirdo,” he said, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Come on. I smell eggs.”
Cathy stood at the stove with a spatula, and she was humming.
“Sit down,” she said when they entered. “Breakfast's ready.”
They sat. Cathy served them scrambled eggs, toast, coffee for Dustin and — after a moment's consideration — one for Greg too. With lots and lots of sugar.
“Thank you,” Greg said. “These eggs look wonderful.”
“They're just scrambled,” Cathy said.
“Yes, and they're very well scrambled.” Greg loaded his fork. Maybe if he was busy eating his face would turn normal. And he couldn't say stupid things.
Cathy sat down with her own plate. For a few minutes, the only sounds were forks on plates and the tick of the kitchen clock.
The kitchen clock read 9 AM.
Six hours.
“I need a few things from the store,” Cathy said between bites and Greg almost choked on his eggs.
“What things?” Dustin asked.
“Milk, eggs. A few other things. I can write you a list. I mean, if you two aren't doing anything.”
Dustin shrugged with his good shoulder. “Sure.”
“You don't have to—”
“Mom. I can buy groceries.”
Something crossed Cathy's face. “Okay,” she said. She got up and pulled a notepad off the fridge, held there by a magnet shaped like a chili pepper, and started writing.
Greg watched her write.
Milk. Eggs. Bread. Yellow onions. Ground beef.
“Why yellow onions?” Greg asked.
Cathy looked up.