The Year's Best Horror Stories 15 Part 13

It was always the way. First she was too polite, then something made her turn cold and hard. She did that with everyone lately, though sometimes with men she didn't bother to start off nice. Lori couldn't figure out what the trouble was this time. She forgot about Mom and sat forward.

"Hi! Erin's my sister. We came to get her."

"To visit," Casey corrected.

"W'll, hi, yourself," said the counselor. "I didn't see you back there. Are you okay, too?"

Lori pulled up the b.u.t.ton on her door and felt herself being helped out. When the other counselor, the one from down below, got there and tried to help Mom, she slid out quickly and took Lori by the hand.

"Stay with me," she said.

"You want me to take a look at that front end?" he said. "You just might have yourself a bent tie-rod there."

"I'll take care of it, thank you," said Casey.

By the time they got onto the grounds the bus was already unloading. Lori and her mother watched the children climb down, but they did not see Erin. Other counselors got off and counted heads. One blew a whistle to get the kids lined up.

"Did you say all the children are on this bus?" Casey asked the young woman.

"Don't you see her?"

"She should be," said the young man.

"Listen to me," said Casey. "We've come a long way. It's late. If you people don't mind, I'd like to see my daughter-now."

The counselors conferred over a clipboard.

"I'm sorry," said the young woman, "but I can't find any Erin on this list."

"That means she's on the other bus," said the young man.

"What other bus?"

"Is she a Special Child?"

"Let me talk to your Supervisor," said Casey.

"The Officer of the Day, you mean?" The young woman shifted her weight from one jogging shoe to the other and peered at her wrist.w.a.tch. "That might be a bit of a problem. See, the rest of the staff's supposed to be on dinner break. The next shift doesn't come on till eight o'clock."

"Do you mean to tell me that there's no one in charge here?"

"The O.D.? Let me see ..."

"In the dining hall," said the young man.

"Well, I guess I could page him for you, if it's an emergency. Otherwise, if you can wait a few minutes ..."

"Is that the other bus?" said Lori.

They turned as another big yellow-sided school transport barreled to a halt in front.

The first child limped and had hands that dangled strangely from his wrists. The second drooled and took a long time. Lori noticed that there was something wrong with everyone who got off the bus, like twisted legs or curved backs or heads that wouldn't move right.

"What kind of facility is this?" said Casey.

"Oh, we're DPSS," said the young man. He stepped forward to a.s.sist with the wheelchair cases. "We're supposed to be strictly Protective Custody and Placement. But since the Governor cut the Social Services budget we get a lot of Disabled, Drug Rehab, the overflow from Juvie, you name it. They'd better not send us any more. We're already sleeping six to a room."

"My Erin's not one of these," Casey told him.

"You never know," he said.

Last off were three squat, overweight, moon-faced kids. They held hands and laughed and stuck out their long tongues at each other, as happy as babies. Lori smiled at them and waved. It wouldn't be so bad to be a Special Child, she thought. In some ways they're better off. They get to have fun all the time. They don't have any worries.

"Well?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Ma'am? You don't see her?" When Mom pursed her lips at him and jutted out her jaw he said, "Let me check the Pop Sheet. There's a bench back by the office, if you'd like to sit down." He started away, then had another idea. "Why don't you join us for dinner? I'll ask the kitchen to make up a couple of extra plates."

"No, thank you."

"Mom ...!" said Lori when he had gone.

"You hush," said Casey. "We don't need any favors from him."

Lori brooded, her stomach growling. "What did you mean when you said we only came to visit?"

"What?"

"I said we came to get Erin, and you said-"

Casey sighed. "I'm trying to decide what would be best for her. It's not easy."

"What's best for you, you mean."

Before her mother could say anything else, Lori left her and walked over to the playing field and sat in one of the swings.

This was the time of day she liked best, with the noisy hours past, the dust settled, the air clear. Above the trees the sky was the color of a deep ocean, and the evening star was showing on the horizon. Venus, she remembered from her book.

All the anger and resentment, built up inside her during the endless ride, left her like a long breath and blew away with the breeze that moved through the trees. For now she was empty and alone. She saw the outline of the playground equipment nearby, things she had left behind on the last day of school. She was surprised at how small they seemed to her, and wondered how such childish toys had ever supported her weight.

The breeze grew stronger, singing in the chains of the swing. She held them taut but they still vibrated in her fingers. They began to rattle. She could not stop them.

It was not the breeze, she realized. She was not alone. There was something loose in the ground, and it was running out all around her.

She looked at the long shadows growing by the slide and the merry-go-round and the jungle gym. Were they moving?

She saw her mother waiting in a pool of yellow light outside the chickenwire gla.s.s of the office. The rumbling was spreading, moving closer. Couldn't her mother hear it?

Then Lori saw the bobbing silhouette of a runner, arms and legs pumping spastically like the angled appendages of a monstrous spider. He pa.s.sed the walkway and was lost again in the darkness.

Lori stood uncertainly, the links icy in her hands.

"Forty-two, forty-three, fifty-seven, ninety-nine ..."

"h.e.l.lo?" she said. "Is anybody there?"

"Got to keep count," he called above the thumping rhythm. "Did I break the record?"

"I-I don't know."

His silhouette pa.s.sed closer as he circled the field, perilously near the tetherball pole. If his foot struck it he would lose his balance and go sprawling, probably straight into the monkey bars. It was too dark for running. Didn't he know that?

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm the 1500 meter. What are you?"

"I'm not anything," said Lori. "Why are you doing that?"

"Got to practice."

"You better be careful. It's getting pretty dark."

"Not me. I know the way perfect. Even at night. What's your name?"

"Lori. What's yours?"

The thumping slowed. She heard a panting close by. Then a teenage boy was standing before her. He held his chin down as he gasped for breath, his chest heaving.

"I won," he said. "My best time."

"That's nice," she said. She saw his skinny bare arms glistening with perspiration, his oddly bent hands. "Um, for what?"

"For the Olympics," he said. He collapsed into the swing next to hers. "I went to the Fair. I didn't get to practice. Did you go to the Fair?"

"Me? I just got here."

"From the Fair?"

"From Los Angeles."

"Is that far away?"

"I guess so."

"No, it's not. I saw you before. You live in Green Cottage."

What was wrong with him? She changed the subject. "Why are you practicing for the 1500 meter? That's over already. It was today."

"Next Sat.u.r.day," he said, swinging slowly. "I'm sixteen. Are you?"

She laughed. "No, silly."

As her eyes adjusted she made out the logo on his sweat-soaked shirt. It was the same red-white-and-blue design she saw everywhere, except that his had one word that was different. Like the counselors' shirts. At last she understood. SPECIAL Olympics. For the handicapped. She had seen a TV movie about it once. She smiled broadly.

"That's great," she told him, "really great. You'll win, I know. You're a good runner."

"I can run faster than anybody. I get the medal."

"I bet you do." She saw his hairy legs sticking out, his k.n.o.bby knees, his worn tennis shoes with cartoon characters on the laces. She liked him very much. "I know who you saw," she said. "It was my sister. We sort of look alike. Where's Green Cottage?"

"He pointed to the corner bungalow. "If you get lost, wait where you are. Miss Shelby will take you back to your room. Don't wander around after lights out, and no TV after ten o'clock."

Lori's mother heard the conversation and came over. "Who are you talking to out here?" she said.

"Um, a friend."

"What's your friend's name?"

"Did you see me?" he said. "I got the medal."

"Next Sat.u.r.day," said Lori. "I wish I could be there."

"You will be," he said. "Next Sat.u.r.day. Yesterday."

"Has the whole world gone crazy?" said Casey.

"Didn't they find Erin?" Lori asked her.

"They don't know anything. They said they were going to look for her, but I don't believe it. I don't believe anything anymore. They don't care if Erin's run off again."

"Is that what they said?"

"They don't have to. I should have known. It's something she learned from her father."

"I know where she is," said Lori. "Wait one minute."

"I'm tired of waiting," said Casey. "I'm not going to wait for anyone, ever again."

"No, really. Sit right here."

"Why should I? Where are you going?"

"I'll be right back, I promise. Talk to him, Mom. He's nice. Really."

Lori left the swings and hurried across the field.

Most of the bungalows were empty now for dinner, but the lights had been left on. Through the windows she saw that some rooms were strung with crepe paper daisy chains and watercolor paintings, others with pictures of baby animals or rock stars. The ones with heavy metal posters, she knew, belonged to the boys.