Brightside by Mark Tullius (i have read the book a hundred times TXT) 📖

I tell her thanks, but she still hates me and my insane plan. She doesn’t see how we’ll ever pull it off.

Still, Sara wants it to work. She wants Danny to be free, to have a life, to be normal, even if it’s only a little.

There aren’t any Boots outside my building. The place is quiet, almost too quiet. Everyone is at work, all that remains are the smells, especially the bleach growing stronger as we near my door. The bleach covering Rachel.

Faceless Rachel, still in my closet.

I tell Sara to wait here, even though she’s seen everything in my head, me cleaning, sweeping the broken bits of gifts, broken bits of Rachel. Sara’s eyes get real big, she’s looking at my door that’s open just a crack.

The Boots must be in there. I start to tell Sara to run, but she’s stepping towards the open door. There’s something on the floor, just inside my apartment. It’s Danny’s hat.

Sara shouts for Danny and throws open the door.

The pitch black room could hold anything. I try to pull her back, but she’s already in. I have no choice but to follow.

Sara keeps calling for Danny. I’m flicking the light switch, but it’s still broken. Someone’s feet crunch over the tiny pieces of plastic and metal. I can’t tell if it’s Sara or someone else.

“Danny, it’s me,” Sara says.

The bleach is making my eyes water, but I can still smell Rachel. My hand feels for the closet. It’s closed.

“Shut the door,” a voice says.

Sara asks who’s there, but I know that gravelly voice coming from my couch. It’s the sound of insanity, of someone who has seen far more death than me.

The next sound is just as familiar. I’ve heard it since I was a kid. The shotgun being racked.

“I’m not going to tell you again.”

I reach out for Sara, but she’s moved. I can’t see anything, know the only way to find her is to either rip open the drapes or close the door.

Let in the light or adjust to the darkness.

The drapes are too far and I hear Sara’s panicked breaths. I close the door. Slowly, my eyes gain focus. Shapes, faces, the apartment spread out before us.

Wayne sits there on the couch, shotgun resting on his lap. He looks at Sara and says, “You must be Loverboy’s new gal.”

“Where’s my brother? Is he here? If you’ve hurt him...”

“He’s safe,” Wayne says, “for now.”

“Tell me where he is.”

Wayne smiles, looks to me. “Bossy like your mom, huh? You do have your type, don’t you, Loverboy?”

“Tell me or I’ll scream,” Sara says.

Wayne laughs, the sort of cackle I imagine his victims heard before he drove in the knife. But Sara isn’t backing down so Wayne lets us hear his thoughts, how he found Danny in their room, how he didn’t have to touch a single hair on that boy’s head, simply told Danny if he wanted to see his sister again he needed to follow. Danny obeyed, followed Wayne right out the door. Wayne ends it there, not letting us know where he took Danny.

Like we’d come over to his house to play cards, Wayne says, “Why don’t you both have a seat.”

Sara says she’s fine, but I take her arm, guide her to a chair. Pissing Wayne off isn’t going to get Danny back.

I actually start wishing Danny was in the Cabin. It’s better than this. At least we’d know he was still alive.

Wayne removes one of his hands off the shotgun, scratches at his beard. “You really should take better care of your place, Joe. You’re kind of a slob. I mean, just cramming everything into the closet like that. It’s lazy.”

Rachel...

“But I suppose Mommy used to clean up after you. I never had that luxury.”

I ask Wayne what he wants and immediately regret it when he starts smacking his lips. I tell him, “We just want Danny back. That’s all.”

“And you’ll get him. Unharmed. Mostly.” Wayne waits for Sara to speak her violent mind, but I touch her arm. Wayne is loving this too much. Silence is our only option.

Finally, Wayne gets bored, lifts the shotgun, aims it at me then Sara, then back at me. I close my eyes, suddenly more fed up than Sara.

“Just do it,” I say.

Sara shouts my name. What the hell you doing?

“No, if he wants to pull the trigger, fine. But he’ll never make it out of here alive. He knows that. Don’t you, Wayne?”

I let this hang in the air until it lands. I hear Wayne shifting in his seat, suddenly paying attention to every word out of my mouth. “It’s why he staged Robert’s death the way he did. He’s trying to draw attention, keep everyone busy. He’s trying to get out of here, just like us. And if he fires the gun, that deafening blast, it’s all over and he knows it.”

“Rachel did it,” Wayne says, “and no one came running. Not a single soul.”

I figure the storm covered the noise, but his grin says there’s more to it than that. “And that’s why you killed Sheila,” I say, not really knowing, but trying to put this together. “You killed her to distract everyone.”

“Why would I do that?”

“You knew what Rachel was going to do. You must have heard her thoughts when she left the office. You must have—”

“Well, Loverboy, then why didn’t I stop her?”

“Because you’re a sick bastard. Two deaths were better than one.”

I have no idea why my mouth won’t close. I’m not a detective. I don’t even know if any of it’s true, but my heart’s racing like I’m jacked on caffeine.

Wayne’s teeth click. “Loverboy’s using his big brain.”

The satisfaction of being right is erased when Sara thinks what an asshole I am. What is this accomplishing?

I ask Wayne what he wants. “You obviously came here for a reason, and it’s not just the shotgun.”

Wayne’s smiling again, pushing out his lower lip like a little kid. “I wanna be in your club, Joe.”

Sharon’s chosen ones. The lucky group I’ve somehow joined. Seems Wayne has been eavesdropping, listening to more people than me. Who knows where he’s been lurking?

“It is a small town,” Wayne says.

I realize Wayne could’ve escaped the moment he broke out, but he knows he can’t last, not with the helicopter, not with every Boot on his trail. He learned Sheriff Melvin had disabled most of the cameras or put them on a loop of old footage. But it won’t last. He knows the only way off this mountain is with my help, because Sharon isn’t going to let him join in. Her club obviously has a better way down the two hundred foot drop than my stupid rope. They probably have a getaway car. Sharon didn’t tell me, but I figured the same. Still, Wayne’s here because I’m the only one who can get him in with Sharon.

“Do you feel special, Momma’s Boy?” Wayne asks.

He’s trying to intimidate me, but he’s already shown his cards.

“Why would I help you?” I say.

“To save that Bob Dole retard, of course.”

I can hear Sara’s teeth digging into her tongue, that squishy sound of saliva the slow trickle of blood.

I ask, “How do I know you won’t just—”

“Kill him?” Wayne cocks his head. “You don’t know. Hell, I could kill all three of you.”

I start humming to drown out the bad thoughts, the ones of Sara and Danny, both faceless, both piled on top of Rachel like some expired orgy.

Wayne stands, his nose blowing puffs like a weary Grizzly. He knows we’re wasting time, that if we can’t come to an agreement, we’re all fucked. So he tosses me the gun. I can barely see in the dark, but somehow catch it. My first thought is to aim, pull the trigger, end this piece of shit’s life.

Wayne says, “Remember, it’ll be loud, Loverboy.”

Still, my finger finds the trigger, my left hand under the pump, the grooves, everything Dad taught me. Never be afraid to fire the shot.

I’m stepping closer, the hollow end only a foot from Wayne’s chest, but Wayne doesn’t flinch, his nose breaths still coming at the same steady rate. The gun’s getting slick. My hand’s sweating. I start to feel my finger slide off the trigger. I’m worried if I adjust, I’ll crack off the shot.

Sara’s hand gently touches the barrel, forces me to lower the gun. We’ll never find Danny if Wayne’s dead. He could be locked away somewhere suffocating. We need him just as he needs us. At least for now.

“Listen to your girlfriend, Joe,” Wayne says. “She’s smart.”

Firing would sound the alarm, send the Boots storming, but I can’t let Wayne just walk away without a nick. My trigger finger slides off and back towards the butt, my hand gripping the wood, which I crack into Wayne’s chin. He stumbles back, bends over, almost drops to a knee, but stays on his feet. He laughs, spits blood all over the floor. He slurps up the rest and that laugh of his comes back, but only for a second. It’s followed by this icy stare, the “I’m going to fucking love watching your girlfriend squeal under my knife” kind of look.

I tell Wayne I’m not doing shit until we know Danny is alive. Wayne says they’ll be at the mineshaft at sundown, says if I don’t like it I need to end this right now. I don’t even realize he’s just prying my mind until it’s too late. I’m already picturing the path to the cave. My hand grips the butt of the shotgun, but Wayne’s not going to let me hit him again. He gave me one and that’s all I’m going to get. He says if I don’t fulfill my part of the plan, it’ll be the last sunset Danny ever sees.

Everything’s too goddamn tense. I force a smile. “Guess I’ll tell Sharon we need room for one more,” I say.

“That’s the boy Momma raised.”

Wayne pushes me out of the way, peeks his wild eyes out the door. The coast is clear so Wayne slips out and disappears back into Brightside.

I stand there shaking, my hands going numb on the Mossberg 12-gauge.

Sara takes the gun, tells me I need to calm down. I have no idea why she’s being so rational, but I figure it’s all for Danny. Some people can lower their pulse to save the ones they love. My heart feels like it’s going to rip at the seams.

So what do we do next? Sara thinks.

“Nothing really,” I say, “I just have to take out that helicopter.”

“Oh,” she says, “that all?”

* * *

WHEN I WAS THIRTEEN, Dad told me there was no honor in killing anything over a hundred yards away. If you can’t see a man’s features, then he’s not a man at all, just a target, which lessens the consequences of taking a life. Consequences are necessary. Without them, this fucked up existence has no value at all. That’s