The Dregs of Murder

"No. I can't."

"Why?"

"You know why."

"You have to keep your gift a secret?" He nodded. "So don't tell them that."

"Then how would I explain them hating me?"

I thought for a moment. "Maybe they were just bad parents."

"Maybe," he whispered, "but my brother and sister weren't treated the same way."

I sighed. I was trying, but I didn't know what to say to this poor man. "Have you tried talking to them?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I don't know how to reach them. When they left, my parents wouldn't tell me where they were because they didn't want to have anything to do with me."

"You were the youngest?"

"Yes. My brother, my sister, and then me."

Landon had done nothing but stare at the floor since he sat down. "Landon... look at me." I waited until he lifted his gaze. "They were wrong... okay? Completely and totally wrong. My mother was a nog... do you know what that is?"

"No. What?"

"A non-gifted person. She was a nog, but her sisters are gifted, Vicki, who you've met, and Liz, still loved her, and she loved them. I know, because I saw it."

"But they weren't her child."

"So? She loved me."

"But she didn't know you were gifted, right?"

"No, but I know it wouldn't have mattered." I paused a moment. "How did you know my mom didn't know I was gifted? Is that your gift?"

"No." He looked at the floor again. "I didn't know who you were until breakfast that first day, but everyone has been talking about you... how your gift showed up out of the blue, how you may have this legendary ability, how you've used your gift, even though you can't control it, to help people..."

"Everyone has been talking about me?"

"Yes. If I heard about it... then everyone knows who Camille Wicker is."

I flushed. "I'm not sure how I feel about that. How did you hear about it?"

"Family. Not my family," he clarified. "My father died about two years ago, but my extended family had heard rumors about me. After Dad died, they reached out to me."

"And they told you?"

He nodded slowly. "They're the ones who told me about the gifted, and suggested I come spend some time here."

"I'm glad they did."

He looked up at me. "Why?"

"Because I got to meet you."

"I'm sure you're impressed."

"No... I wouldn't say that... but it's nice to meet someone that's as confused and befuddled by all this as I am."

That earned me one of his rare smiles. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'm supposed to be this superstar gifted person, but I don't have the first clue of what I'm doing, or supposed to do, or anything. I'm just bumbling along, being pulled in two directions from those who think I'm a fake, and--"

"Keller."

"Keller," I confirmed, "and those that think I'm the next coming of Jesus." I saw him flinch slightly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

"I'm not offended. I have no use for religion."

I sensed there was a hidden meaning in his statement. "Were your parents religious?"

"Yes." I said nothing. "I think... that maybe, that was part of why they hated me. They wouldn't let us watch Harry Potter, or trick-or-treat, or anything like that because it celebrated witchcraft." He looked up at me again. "Well, my brother and sister could trick-or-treat, but they could only do it at the church, and nobody was allowed to dress up as monsters or anything like that."

"Weren't you allowed to go?"

"No," he said softly.

"Why?"

"Because..."

When he didn't continue, I made a guess. "Because of your gift?"

"Yes. When they realized what I was... I wasn't allowed to go... anywhere."

"What did they do? Lock you in a closet?" I asked, keeping my voice light and cheerful.

"No... nothing so drastic as that... but I wasn't allowed to see anyone... or do anything. I didn't even go to school after the fifth grade."

"What... did they home school you?"

"That's what everyone thought... but no."

"No? How is that possible?"

He shrugged. "Nobody cared enough to check, I guess... or they lied. I don't know."

"So you've had no formal education after the fifth grade?"

He shook his head. "I've tried to learn stuff on my own. I can read a little... and write some... but it's hard. It's so hard. I work at a Wendy's because... well... because."

"Oh my God! That's awful!" I took his hands again. "Not because you work at a Wendy's, but because of how you've been treated. I don't have to look back to tell you that your parents were wrong and awful. You probably didn't do anything for them to hate you... you just were."

"Maybe," he murmured.

"No maybe. There is no excuse for how you were treated. None!"

"That's what I tell myself."

"Good! You need to believe it!" I shook my head. "Sometimes I hate people."

He was quiet for a long moment before he stood. I quickly scooted back to give him room. "I should go. Thank you for taking the time."

"Anytime you need someone to talk to, my door is open."

He couldn't seem to meet my gaze. "Thank you," he murmured as he started to the door.

"Hey, Landon, can you do something for me?" I asked softly.

He turned to face me, and then looked down again. "If I can."

"You can. Can you look at me when we talk?" I asked softly. "I'm not criticizing, but it's much more interesting to talk to you face to face than face to head."

I saw a smile flicker over his lips before he looked up. "I'll try."

"Good. You've survived so much, I know you can do this little thing for me." He looked down, then immediately looked up again. I could tell he was forcing himself to meet my gaze. "See?" I said softly. "Not so hard."

"No," he murmured with a tiny smile. He turned to the door and opened it, but then paused before stepping through. "Want to see what I can do?" he asked.

I couldn't stop my smile. "I'd love to... if you want to show me."

He closed the door and stepped closer to the lamp. "Watch my hand."

As I observed, his hand disappeared. A year ago I'd have freaked out, but now...? Seeing a picture frame flying across the room had done a lot to dull my 'what the...?' response. After a moment, I realized the hand hadn't actually disappeared, as I could still see it... sort of. It was like I was looking at the wall behind his hand through a slightly distorted piece of glass. He watched me study his hand a moment before he moved it quickly up and down. It became easily visible as it moved, and then nearly disappeared again when it stopped. It reminded me of a movie where the voices were slightly out of sync with the lips because his hand seemed... slightly behind what I should be seeing behind it.

"May I?" I asked as I stuck my finger out like I was going to touch his hand.

"Sure."

I touched. His hand felt perfectly normal under my finger, but where I indented the flesh, distortion appeared and his hand became the color of my skin. "You're like that... what's that fish that can change colors to match a background? Is it the octopus?"

"I think you're thinking of the cuttlefish."

"Okay. Can you do more than your hand?"

In less than a second, while I watched, he'd disappeared as his hand had. I could still see his hair, and his clothes, but his face, arms, and hands were all but invisible. After a moment he reappeared.

"That's hard," he said.

"Doing your whole body?"

"Yes. It takes a lot of concentration."

"I'm impressed. I bet you'd make an amazing spy."

He dropped his gaze before he looked at me again. "Maybe." After a moment he offered me a faint smile before he looked down and started for the door. "Thank you," he murmured as he opened the door.

"You're welcome... but for what?"

"For talking to me... for... agreeing to look for me... for being nice to me."

"Why wouldn't I be nice to you?"

"No reason. Everyone here has been... it's just hard to adjust to."

"Hey... Aunt Vicki said the gifted are like a big family. You're part of that family, and if I see anyone being mean to my big brother... I'll kick them in the shins."

He smiled again. "Thank you. Sleep well."

"You too," I said as I closed my door behind him.

I snuffed my lamp before tumbling into bed. I lay there, trying to imagine how anyone could treat anyone, much less their own child, with so much contempt and hate. I found I couldn't, but I smiled in the darkness, more than a little proud of myself that Landon had opened up to me, even a little bit. Tomorrow I would redouble my efforts to access my gift, if for no other reason than to tell Landon his parents were assholes and that he couldn't believe a word they said to him.

I sighed heavily as sleep began to pull at me. Tomorrow I was going to have a breakthrough. Today had shown me my gift still worked, and someone didn't have to die for me to use it. Tomorrow I was going to tell that jerk Keller to get over himself, and I was going to help Landon to begin to heal from his parents' abuse. Tomorrow.

"I can't do it!" I snapped.

I'd been at the compound for over a week, and other than the one vision I had of my future self, I hadn't had so much as a glimpse into the future or the past. I was certain Lena was about to give up on me, and Keller was so damned smug I wanted to bite him.

"Take it easy," Mattie said softly.

Two days ago, the Burnette family had arrived. The mother, father, and two adult children were all gifted. Kevin, the father, could control the air temperature in his immediate vicinity. His talent wasn't particularly effective outside, but he had the ability to draw heat from an area, store it inside himself, and then release it. It was amazing to watch what he could do. In the large gathering room of the house, he turned bright red as I felt a noticeable drop in temperature. He then went outside, and I could feel the heat radiating off him like a heater. A couple more repetitions, and the room was pleasantly cool. Handy.

His wife, Leigh, could see like an eagle. She was the first person I'd met whose gift was passive. In other words, she didn't have to do anything to access her gift... it was simply there. She claimed she could read a newspaper at fifty paces and see the tiniest details. I smiled when her two kids, Grace and Mattie, claimed they couldn't get away with anything growing up because she noticed everything. That seemed like another useful gift.

Grace, like her mother, had extraordinary vision. Also like her mother, she didn't have to make any conscious effort to use it. The difference was, Grace could see in near absolute darkness. She said to her, a starlit night was as bright as a cloudless summer day. Grace was five years older than me, but I liked her. I found her funny, and I envied her ability to walk around the house at night with absolute confidence without the use of a lamp, and she claimed she'd never barked her shins or stumbled over something in the darkness... something I wish I could claim. Like most things, for every good, there was a bad. For Grace, when she couldn't see, she became almost crippled with panic. It rarely happened because there were few times or places on earth where there was absolute darkness. She discovered her anxiety when her family was taking a cave tour and the guide turned out the lights.

Finally there was Mattie. Mattie was only a year older than me and was my new best friend on the island. She, like me, had the gift of sight, and she was the reason she, and her family, were here. Mattie could look back to anyplace or time where she was present. Her visions were short, only a handful of seconds, but during that time, she could look around as if she were there at that moment. She, like Lena, was trying to help me access my gift, but nothing either of them suggested was helping.

"It's okay," Lena said softly.

"Yeah... don't sweat it," Mattie added, her tone supportive.

"Then why does everyone keep pushing me?" I demanded, my frustration boiling over. "Maybe I should go home because I'll never be able to control this damn thing!"

"Is that what you want?" Keller asked as he watched us struggle, rocking slowly as he did. "Are you just going to give up?"

"Why do you care?" I demanded as I glared at him. "You don't think I have a gift, and you're leaving tomorrow anyway."

He shrugged. "I believe you believe you have a gift."

"That's not the same as having one, is it?"

"No... it isn't... but I'm willing to be proven wrong."

I huffed. "I don't think that's going to happen... at least before you leave."

He glanced at his watch, an old-fashioned wind-up type that I didn't know they made anymore. "You still have, let's see, sixteen hours before I have to leave."

"Don't try so hard," Mattie said. "Believe me, I know how frustrating it can be."

I sighed heavily, trying to let go of my frustrations. I knew Mattie and Lena were doing everything they could to help me, but I was getting nowhere. I'd felt the same way in high school literature when the teacher prattled on about some famous book. I never understood what she was talking about. While reading Hemmingway's Old Man and the Sea, like with Melville's Moby Dick, I couldn't comprehend what the teacher insisted was there. I mean, obviously the old man was a man, but I didn't understand why she kept saying he represented manhood. To me, he just seemed dumb. The fish was obviously too big for him to handle alone, and it was dragging him to sea. Even if he finally killed the fish, then what would he do if he was lost and couldn't get back to shore? Then both the man and the fish would be dead and neither had gained anything. In the end, after the sharks had eaten the fish and he got nothing, I pointed out what I'd said in a previous class, that he wasn't thinking logically. My teacher hadn't actually rolled her eyes, but I was sure mentally she had. To me they were simply stories, one about a stubborn old geezer, and the other about a crazy man. I saw no deeper meaning, and I couldn't understand where, or how, everyone else was seeing all these hidden meanings and metaphors.

My gift felt the same way to me. Mattie would tell me how she would think about a place and time she wanted to go, and she could feel the urge to go there. She compared it to seeing a trailer for a new movie and then wanting to go see it. That I could understand, but it didn't seem to work for me. I thought about the first time Hunter had kissed me beside my frozen truck, or the first time he'd invited me to his bed, or the day Mom died. I desperately wanted to see Mom one more time, to listen to her ask me to try to fix the cooler again, but no matter how much I wanted to see those moments again, I never left the room, in the house, on the island.

"I don't know what you want from me," I said, trying to keep my annoyance out of my voice. "Try to do this... but don't try too hard... or you need to try harder. I can't do it! I can't make my gift work when I want it to!"

Mattie looked at Lena. "I don't know what else to tell her. For me... I just do it, and I can't really explain how other than I want to."

Lena rubbed her fingers and thumb together again, something she seemed to do when thinking. "Maybe we should take a break. You've been pounding away at this all morning. Maybe we'll try again after everyone gets back from laundry." Lena clearly expected me to say something. "Okay?" she prompted.

"Do you think it'll make any difference?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Honestly... no... but I know I'm frustrated, and I can tell you're frustrated too, so I think a break will do us all some good."

"I'm doing the best I can," I said. My tone was harsher than I meant for it to be. "Sorry."

"I know. We'll try again later, and maybe a little in the morning, before Keller and I leave."

"And if nothing happens?" I asked.

"Then... you can keep trying on your own. I can help you control your gift, but only you can access it. If you can begin to access it, then contact me, and we'll pick up where we leave off."

"Okay," I mumbled.

I sat and stared at the wall for a long moment before I rose. "I think I'm going to go bother Jim," I said as I started toward the door. "I'll be back in time to help with lunch."

I had no idea where Jim was, but he was always around somewhere. I paused on the porch. I didn't see him working in the field, and the horses were loose and grazing, so that meant he was probably close. I looped around the house, and seeing nothing, I walked to the barn.

"Hey," I said as I entered.

He turned to me and smiled. "Funny."

Jim was putting up hay. There were dozens of bales stacked at his feet, and he was using a pully to lift the bales to the second floor.

I snickered. "Sorry... pun not intended. Need some help?"

He looked me over slowly. "Are you sure you want to?"

I shrugged. "Sure... if I can. Maybe I can accomplish something out here."

"Still no luck?"

"Luck? Sure! Lots of luck. All of it bad."

He grunted. "All you can do is keep after it."

"I suppose. So... what can I do to help?"

"You want top or bottom?"

"Which is easier?"

He grinned. "Neither."

I snickered again. "Swell."

"Down here, you have to drag the bale over here, attach it to the hook, and then haul it up." He nodded upwards. "Up there, you have to pull the bale to you, unhook it, and then stack it." I must have looked uncertain. "How about this. You go up top and pull the bale over. I'll let it down, you unhook it, and slide it out of the way. I'll stack it later."

"That doesn't seem like much help."

"Cam... that will be a huge help because I won't have to keep running up and down the steps."

That makes sense. "Okay. Sure."

I started up the steps. "When you get up there, you'll find a long hook. Grab the bale with it and pull it to you as I lower it. And Cam?" I paused about halfway up and looked back at him. He grinned. "Don't fall off. Vicki will never forgive me."

I smiled back at him as I gave him a salute. "Pull the bale, slide it out of the way, and don't fall. Got it."

I trotted the rest of the way to the loft. It was hot so high up, and bales were stacked higher than my head to fill about half the available floor space. I found the hook and walked to the edge of the loft. The rail had been removed and placed aside. I swallowed hard and peeked over the edge, watching as a bale quickly rose. The hook at the end of the rope had two prongs, and I realized it was probably designed to lift two bales at a time, but there was only one bale attached.

The hook I was using was far longer than necessary to reach the rope, and after I hooked it, I leaned into the weight as Jim lowered the bale to the floor. I quickly unhooked the rope and dropped it over the side before scooting the bale across the floor to where the other bales were stacked.

"I think I can handle two," I called over the edge.

"You sure?"

"No... but I think. Let's give it a try," I said as I unhooked the bale that was waiting on me and slid it aside.

I was approaching the edge of the loft when two bales appeared. I hooked the rope and pulled. It was hard work, and I had a hard time and a couple of moments of panic because my feet kept skidding as the bales tried to drag me off the edge, but I finally muscled the bales over the floor.

"I think one at a time from now on," Jim said from below. "I don't think my heart can take you doing two."

"Yeah," I panted. "How do you do this by yourself?"

"I pull them up and then tie off the rope," he said as I slid the first bale across the floor. I grunted it up on top of one of the others I'd already slid into place. Two high was as high as I was going to be able to stack them, but at least it'd double the number of bales I had room for. "Then I reach down with the hook, lift them up the rest of the way, and bada-boom, bada-bing."