Prodigal Blues

He looked up at me with tears of rage in his eyes.  "On the bright side, at least I will save money on Hallowe'en costumes, right?"

"Pay no mind, he is just trying to shock you," said Rebecca.

"He… he succeeded," I whispered.

She looked at my face, then at Christopher's.  "Are you proud of yourself?  Hmmm?  I certainly hope so, because it is going to take us forever to get your makeup fixed.  What have I told you about these little snits of yours?"

"…do not lecture me right now…" he whispered.

"Who is lecturing?  I am merely pointing out that your behavior has given us yet another mess to deal with.  You promised me you were going to stop acting this way.  You promised, Christopher."

"…I apolo—"

"Oh, no," said Rebecca.  "Not this time.  Absolutely not.  You broke a promise, Christopher, and you know what that means."

He nodded his head, not looking at her.

No one said anything for several moments, then Arnold turned toward me and whispered:  "This is actually pretty serious."

"I think I figured that much out already, thanks."  Then:  "What does it mean, when someone breaks their promise?"

"It means," said Rebecca, "that the person they made the promise to gets a request, and that request has to be granted, no matter what it is."

"No matter what," said Thomas, then giggled and went back to his song, singing softly to himself, which was starting to get on my nerves because I couldn't make out the words.

Christopher looked up at Rebecca.  "All right, then, all right."  He got to his feet.  "I broke my promise."

"You broke it big," said Arnold.

"Yes, you did," added Rebecca.

Christopher sighed, then folded his arms across his chest and waited.

"Does that mean something else?" I asked Arnold.  "Is it worse if you break a promise big?"

"You know it."

"If you break a promise big," said Rebecca, "then the other person gets two requests; one now, and one later."

"Do not push this too far," Christopher said.

I watched silently.  There had been a definite shift in the dynamics; Rebecca was, for the moment, in charge, and Christopher was respecting that; but I had the feeling that Rebecca's reign could only go on for so long before Christopher took back control—and when he did, Rebecca would respect his actions.

For the moment, I was reminded of the way Gayle and I used to go back and forth when we were kids.

Christopher massaged a part of his forehead, then exhaled loudly.  "I am not going to stand here all day.  You get one now, one later.  What is your first request?"

Rebecca smiled, then cocked her thumb in my direction.  "Unlock him."

"Now, wait just a minute—"

"No!  That is my first request and you have to do it.  So do it."

"I do not think it is a good idea.  He might try something."

"He is naked underneath that sheet.  He is not going anywhere.  Un.  Lock.  Him."

Christopher pulled a set of keys from his pocket, flipping through until he found the one he was looking for, then removed it from the ring and tossed it to Arnold.

"I wanted you to do it," said Rebecca.

"You did not say that.  You only said 'Unlock him.'  Who does it was never specified."

Her eyes narrowed.  "That is so very close to cheating."

"But not close enough that it counts against me."

"They do this a lot," said Arnold, unlocking the leg iron and removing it from my ankle.  "But it is not always this entertaining."  He bent down and removed the rest of the chain from the bed frame.

I leaned forward and began massaging my ankle.  "May I please have the rest of my clothes?  Including my shoes and socks?"

"Your pants and underwear are not dry," said Rebecca.

"I could give a shit—wait, sorry, excuse my language.  It doesn't matter if they're dry or not, I'll wear them."

"Are you sure?"

I gri

She and Arnold retrieved everything.  I slipped into my damp underwear (beneath the sheet), then stood and put on my pants, socks, and shoes.

"Better?" asked Arnold.

"Kind of squishes when I move, but at least I'm not dangling in front of everyone."

"Was that a yes?"

"That was a yes."

"Just making sure."

Rebecca sat on the edge of the bed and gestured toward Christopher.  "Well?"

Christopher looked at his watch.  "We have now wasted the better part of an hour.  All of you were supposed to be sleeping by now."

"I am not tired," said Arnold.

Rebecca shrugged.  "Me, neither."

In the corner, Thomas continued singing—and at last I recognized the song:  "All Through The Night."  Mom used to sing the same lullaby to both Gayle and me when we were kids.

"Fine," snapped Christopher, removing the gun from the back of his pants and sitting on the footstool.  "So who wants to start?  I am not in the mood right now."

"Start what?" I asked.

"Telling you about it," said Rebecca.

"If you are going to help us," added Arnold, "it is only fair that you know everything."

"Only fair," Thomas repeated.  "Only fair."

"Sometimes," said Christopher, "the three of you really get on my nerves."

Rebecca shook her head.  "Christopher is Mr. Grumpy-Pants today.  Please pardon him."

Then they told me; and, as I listened, feeling soul-sick and diminished with each passing minute, I finally understood what is meant by the phrase "bad wisdom."

7.  The "One" Days

They never learned his real name; for them—and several other children—he was and would always be Grendel.

"He was very careful about that," said Christopher.  "No mail ever came to the house—it was all sent to a Post Office box.  Anything he ordered online was always sent through the mail, never through FedEx or UPS or any delivery company like that.  He did not carry a wallet.  There were no personal papers anywhere in that house, not that we ever found.  And we looked.  When Arnold and I started going through the computer files looking for his internet accounts information, we found at least fourteen different names he was using.  All the names belonged to guys who have been dead for years."

"How do you know that?" I asked.

He glared at me.  "Because he kept files with all that information locked up in one of his desks.  Social Security numbers, dates of birth and death, names of relatives—all of them deceased, of course—all the information you would need to set up an internet account or apply for a credit card."

"He must have… had help," I said.  "I mean, information like that isn't exactly easy to get your hands on."

Christopher's hands balled into fists.  "I thought you were supposed to be listening."

I shut up.

Rebecca was fifteen now; she'd been thirteen when Grendel took her.  "My mom and me were driving up to see her brother.  Mom had to go to the bathroom, so we pulled off the highway when we found a rest stop.  Mom told me to stay by the car while she went inside to pee.  I saw this man and little retarded girl walking around between some buildings.  They were both crying.  They said they were looking for their puppy and asked me if I could help them look."