The New Sanning Promise Ch. 02

Chapter Two

There were so few people to count on, but her hands never let her down.

Part of her didn't want to masturbate so often, but most nights she just put herself at ease by reminding herself that if she didn't, then they would win. Whoever they happened to be that particular night.

So she treated herself to exorbitant amounts of internet porn. She traded nudes with countless strangers she met on dating apps, men and women alike, none of whom were ever anywhere within a reasonable driving distance. And she played, and played, and played...

And look where it's gotten me.

Sabrina Keary did not like living in New Sanning. On day one it looked no different from any suburban nightmare. On day two she thought it looked a little cleaner than her childhood hometown, maybe. Now, six months in, she hated every corner, every building, and almost everyone who lived there.

Especially Henning.

The grandfather clock in the den struck four, and Sabrina huffed out a silent groan. Fuck it, she thought, and continued to run her middle finger slowly up the length of her vagina. On good nights all she needed to do was focus on the feeling, but good nights were scarce. Porn wasn't doing the trick tonight either, not even her usual favorite gangbangs or bukkakes or cum walks. Tonight she was reduced to thinking about Zack.

Zack and his dark oak hair that waved down to his shoulders. Zack and his strong arms holding her down by the wrists. Zack and his unusually sharp teeth nibbling at her neck and her ears while his long fingers slid in and out of her deftly. Sabrina opened her eyes and looked over to the wall, where a photo hung of the two of them two years earlier. He had a cocky little smile, and it always reminded her of the way he would grin after making her cum.

"Nnnngh!" Sabrina grunted in frustration as a weak orgasm crawled out of her tense muscles. All that work for almost no payback, she lamented.

Sabrina stood and slipped into her black jeans quickly. She'd meant to leave the house much sooner, but the picture took her thoughts back in time and kept her there too long. As she swung her backpack over one shoulder, she took one last longing glance at the photo.

Early morning dew twinkled in the moonlight when Sabrina hopped out her window and started walking to the town square. Cold November air nipped at her ears and her cheeks, reminding her all the more of Zack and his playful teeth. There was one night, just as cold and just as bright, when he'd bitten her ear and whispered with a growl, "One day we'll take over the world." She remembered giggling, squirming, biting her lip and nodding. And then he took her body and turned it into a temple of pleasure.

But then he cut his hair, put on a suit and tie, and started calling himself Zackary. No one could see the poisoned dagger tattooed over his heart, no one could hear the whiskey and cigarettes in his throat when he sang of autonomy and rebellion. "Why don't you want to be with me?" he asked her then. "I'm still me."

The town square of New Sanning had a new addition, hiding under a sheet in the exact center, standing atop a plinth in the middle of the fountain. Everyone knew it was a statue of Henning, the evil shit they all worshipped. But unveiling it would "still be fun," her mother said. Sabrina had her own idea of what would be fun.

She took off her shoes, walked through the placid water of the fountain, and climbed up the plinth with ease. The sheet was tied down, but nothing stopped her from simply standing underneath. It was bigger than she'd expected it to be, likely twice the size of the real man. Even better, she thought. Now it'll look as small as it probably is.

She wouldn't get the chance to see her final touch on the statue until the morning. That was all right, so long as the whole town saw it at least once. Of course everyone would know that she did it, because nobody else would. Not any of the old stuffed shirts that lived here, not the comfortable young couples living through an early retirement. Certainly not that cunt Lana Moore on Pratt Street.

When she was sure that the job was done, Sabrina hopped down carefully to the water and started walking out. Stepping over the lip of the fountain, she nearly fell over in fright. Henning was standing there, watching.

"Early morning swim?" he asked with a shit-eating grin.

"Just a dip," she answered. "Don't you ever fucking sleep?"

"Sabrina, you haven't given me any time like you promised."

He wasn't with anyone else this time. No Officer Graham to cuff her and fine her for vandalism. So she sat down and started putting her shoes back on. "I tend not to keep promises with people who won't keep theirs."

Henning didn't step any closer. He'd learned by now that would only piss her off. Instead he just stood there, his horrible knowing smile making a joke out of the power he held. "You'll have to excuse me, I'm not sure what you mean," he said.

"My mother," Sabrina said, gritting her teeth. Just thinking about what he'd made of Greta Keary turned Sabrina's stomach. "You were supposed to make her normal again."

He shrugged. "I believe what I said was that I would undo it when I found someone who could take her place. I haven't yet. Sabrina, please. I just want us to get along."

"Fuck off. If you had any ounce of decency -"

"I'll be clear," he interrupted, his face becoming dark and serious. "I need you, Sabrina."

Her skin crawled with goosebumps. "What do you want from me?"

"Answers," he said. "You don't know them, so I was hoping we could figure them out together."

Sabrina stood up and slid the strap of her backpack onto her shoulder. "Fix my mom and we'll talk. Can I go home or are you calling Graham?"

"Please," he said, extending his arm toward Main Street. "I'm excited to see your handiwork in the morning."

"What?" Sabrina hesitated, sensing some kind of trap.

"Whatever you did under there," he said, pointing to the sheet covering his statue. "I'm sure everyone will love it. You know, I'm a little surprised you didn't do anything for our newcomers yesterday."

"Too predictable," she said. "I guess this was too."

"Well, you know me."

There was that smile again. Before he could creep her out anymore, Sabrina took her leave and put him as far behind her as she could. He did nothing to follow her. Whenever she turned her head to look back at the town square, she saw him standing right where he was before, watching her go.

When at last she turned the corner, putting him wholly out of sight, she started to breathe easy again. The sun was rising, not yet above the horizon but putting a violet hue in the east where there was black before. Sabrina passed Pratt Street, scowling at the Moore house, but remembering the one beside it, where the new blood had settled. The Harpers, she thought.

They looked nice enough, just like any other family in town. But unlike the others, they'd brought an adult son with them, and an unmarried one at that. Henning didn't often approve families like that. There must have been a damn good reason, at least in his eyes.

They probably only have a couple days before they're under his boot, she thought. It usually only took that long. Maybe she could do something this time, warn them about Henning and his conniving scheme to strip the freedom from every last person in town. But they wouldn't believe her, of course. Sometimes, she didn't even believe herself. They're probably not worth saving, anyway. They're probably just like everyone else here. Henning handpicks them for a reason.

Sabrina climbed back through her window and undressed for the few hours of sleep she could get before it was time to go to the unveiling. As she unhooked her bra and slipped a baggy sweater over herself, Sabrina could hear the unmistakable sounds of fellatio coming from down the hall. A consistent guah, guah, guah, in perfect rhythm. Great, she thought. Mom's already awake.

* * * * *

"Brandon, get changed, we're going to the town square," his mother said when he walked through the front door. He'd expected as much. When he woke up in the Moore's house, they'd left a note for him saying they would be going to the unveiling. Unveiling what? he'd wondered, but surely he would know soon enough.

His mind was elsewhere as he chewed on the bagel his mother handed him in the car. Thankfully he'd had time for a quick shower, so the surprisingly strong smell of Lana didn't waft off his body anymore. Now only he knew what he'd done last night. He wondered how long it would take for Ricky to find out, for the whole town to instantly vilify Brandon and shun Lana into divorce and relocation. It all seemed inevitable to Brandon. I guess just let it happen, he reasoned. No use in trying to stop it. That will just make things worse.

"Good," Tom Harper said when he parked the car. "We're not too late."

Half the town gathered in the square, many of them having their breakfast in groups on picnic blankets among the perfectly trimmed grass. The chess tables that ringed the fountain were all occupied with men in their earliest stages of greying, studying each other's tactics, carefully moving pieces every few seconds. Women stood by picnic tables, mimosas in hand, pearls dangling from their necks. Everyone behaved as though this were a beautiful summer day, but in truth the sky was overcast and the air sharp with cold.

"Why don't you go see if the Moores are here?" Nora said to Brandon as they stepped out of the car.

"Uh..." Brandon hesitated, stalling for an excuse. "I'll catch up with them. I should meet some others too."

His mother nodded and squeezed his hand before following her husband to one of the picnic tables. In all the excitement of the new town, they seemed so eager to get away from him. Brandon frowned, and turned his eyes to the big white sheet hovering over the fountain. Probably a statue, he figured. Maybe they made a statue of me to commemorate the fastest fuck up in history.

Quickly he spotted the Moores eating their breakfast with a few other couples, and quickly walked to the other side of the park where they couldn't see him. Here he was surrounded entirely by strangers, most of them totally unaware of his presence. He could spot a few of the younger people in town, those in their early thirties, and he thought he saw who might be Kim and Frank Sinnitz, the couple Lana mentioned were near his age. They were sitting alone, making a game out of stacking Cheerios as high as they could. Brandon thought he might introduce himself, until he caught the eye of the painter.

She was blue-eyed and svelte, with neatly brushed straight hair and cute flat bangs above her eyebrows. Golden brown, he thought, looking at her. The brush in her hand gently touched the canvas, dotting the branches of trees with dark green leaves. Already he could tell she was painting a beautiful rendition of the park in front of her, though the fountain remained unpainted in the center of the frame.

He was trying to get a good look at the details she'd chosen, the people she included in the frame. There were no details on their faces, sort of like a George Seurat painting, though she was using a more traditional style of brush strokes. He hardly noticed as she dipped her brush into the paint thinner and caught him looking. A meek smile spread across her face, and she waved him over toward her.

"You're... Tom Harper?" she asked as he approached.

"That's my dad," he corrected her, trying his best to look friendly and unoffended. "I'm Brandon."

"I'd shake your hand, but..." she said, holding up her paint stained fingers. "I'm Mel Jarowski."

"Nice to meet you, Mel," Brandon said. He wondered if he should have said Ms. Jarowski, but that didn't feel right to him. She couldn't have been much older than he was. They might have even been near the same age.

"I don't mean to sound odd," she said with an anxious smile. "I just know how people can talk sometimes so..."

"Definitely, small town gossip," he guessed. Brandon didn't know small town life too well.

"I live out by the lake on Grisham Road, just by myself. I'm one of the only ones in town who lives alone. Just try not to hold that against me."

Odd thing to bring up, he thought. Then again, in a town full of married couples, it was strange that she lived alone. Did Mayor Henning know that when she applied? Had she moved here with someone who left without her? Better not to ask, he decided. Just take her at face value. There must be a lot of rumors around town about her.

"Every town needs a misunderstood witch of the woods," Brandon joked. Thankfully, she laughed. "If you're partial to visitors I'd love to have coffee sometime."

"That sounds nice," she said, loosening her lips into a toothy smile. "But I only make my coffee with eye of newt."

"Oof, you lost me. I like my coffee with at least two teaspoons of lamb's blood."

Mel covered her mouth to stifle a laugh, and Brandon tried not to wince as green paint stuck to her cheek. She noticed. "Ugh, I'm a mess!" A pink blush overtook her face and she tried to avert her eyes from Brandon. He thought it might be more than everyday nerves. Did I just make a good impression?

Then suddenly, she was not the strangest looking thing in the town square. A gradual rise of cheers and claps went up as a few hands started to untie the ropes holding the sheet in the fountain down. Before long, the sheet slipped off and fell into the water for the men to drag out. But their eyes went straight to the statue underneath, and around them everyone grew silent.

A bronze statue of Arthur Henning stood on a white marble plinth, and glued onto the crotch a painted dildo waved back and forth, jiggling with endless kinetic energy. The statue was huge, towering over the water. Two or three real Arthurs could have fit inside it. And as a result, Brandon thought, the makeshift penis on it looked pathetically small.

Some of the women in the park covered their mouths in shock. A few men scowled while others chuckled quietly to themselves. "Sabrina!" someone shouted.

Then Arthur Henning stepped up to the lip of the fountain with a bullhorn in hand. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, smiling all the while. "I am truly honored to have this here in our town square. We have my lovely wife, Misty Henning, to thank for commissioning it, and our remarkable local metalworker Gary Alling."

Is he insane? Brandon thought. He's acting like everything is fine...

The thick layer of clouds overhead hid the sunshine, but Brandon saw an inexplicable twinkle in Henning's eyes. He paused for a long moment, and his grip on the bullhorn became very tight. "I'm very proud of what New Sanning has become in the last five years," he said. "And while this statue may be of my likeness, I believe it represents everyone here today. And I can tell... you all love this statue."

The mood in the park shifted suddenly. The open mouths of the women relaxed into relieved smiles. The laughing and scowling stopped, and in its place came mutters of agreement, nods of approval. What the hell was that? Brandon wondered. What happened to his voice at the end?

It had changed somehow, become more soft spoken and yet much louder, almost as though Brandon heard it inside his own head. And it continued on as the mayor spoke again. "You see what you want to see in this statue. That's why you love it. You couldn't be happier with how it turned out. You're proud to have it in the town square."

Then he relaxed, wiped thin sweat from his brow, and waved his wife up beside him. Brandon frowned, incredulous at the man's brazen commands to appreciate what was clearly a prank. Someone even said it, Sabrina's probably behind this... whoever she is.

"This statue commemorates the effort of each and every person in this town," Misty said as her husband placed a proud hand on her shoulder. "The effort to make a wonderful community unlike any other, where each citizen is not just able to live comfortably, but to pursue just about anything. Because when you live here, you live happy. And that's the New Sanning promise!"

While the onlookers applauded the message, Brandon turned to Mel. She still sat on her stool, looking sadly at the statue. I'm not crazy, he thought when he saw her disappointment. Or if I am at least I'm not alone. "Well," she said with a sigh, "I guess this painting's a dud."

"What the hell was that all about?" he asked her. "They just... did everyone believe him?"

Mel tilted her head at him and considered him for a long time. "I'm surprised you didn't," she said at last. "Everyone always believes that idiot."

* * * * *

Tom Harper handed the newly cut key over to Brandon. "Fully equipped, and we've got our first shipment of frames and lenses coming in next week. What do you think?"

The office was much bigger than any Brandon had known back home. There was plenty of space in New Sanning, and they'd been given ample choice of location. In the end, Tom picked a second-story space overlooking the town square, just on the northwest corner.

"I'm excited," Brandon said, unable to hide his exasperation.

"It's a lot." Tom nodded with sympathy. "But when we're all settled, it's going to be wonderful."

"I don't know, Dad. This is all a lot more than I was anticipating." Brandon sat down in the chair at the front desk, putting his face in his hands and pulling on the short hairs at his scalp. He took account of the last day and a half. An extramarital affair, an apparent ultra-gullibility in Lana, and now some freaky propagandized messaging from the mayor that the entire town bought without a second thought. Something's going on here... he wanted to believe. But life wasn't like that. Life didn't work that way, did it?

"Brandon," his father sighed, leaning against the reception desk. "Your mother and I always want what's best for you. We thought this might be it. At least give it a chance. A month, nothing crazy. If you don't like it here, move out. You're an adult, you can make your own decisions. I know you're a fish out of water right now, but maybe you'll grow some lungs after a bit."

"Dad... what did you think of that statue?"

Tom Harper straightened up, put his hands in his pockets. "A little out there," he said. "But bold, unexpected. You wouldn't see it in any other town, that's for sure."

"What about what the mayor said? You didn't think that was a little weird?"

"Which part?"

Brandon pictured that sparkling mischief in Arthur Henning's eyes when he spoke. "He was... I don't know, commanding everyone to be okay with it."

"I don't think so," his father said, uncertainly. "He said it represented everyone here, Mrs. Henning sort of reiterated it. Brandon, are you all right? Maybe you're feeling a little sick."

"Maybe," Brandon said. "I don't know."

"Well, head back to the Moore's and take a rest. Lord knows your mother won't let you sleep on your own bed."

Brandon gritted his teeth. "Maybe I just need a walk."

"I wouldn't risk it. You know how she worries." Tom sighed with the weight of decades of nagging on his shoulders. Nora Harper could be overbearing, certainly. But Brandon didn't have to live with that every single day. He was allowed a much longer leash than his father.

I can't just run away from this Lana situation, Brandon reasoned. Maybe I don't have to address it but I can't just ignore her either. God damn it...

"Oh, and you might have noticed," Tom said. "We have a reception desk and no receptionist. So we'll just have to make do for a little bit. Hope you don't mind."