One Bloody Thing After Another by Joey Comeau Page B

“and there was a tree here in this lobby. Right there.” Jackie points to the empty spot beside the bench. She feels weird. The crutch seems to be sliding to the side, slipping out from under her.
    The nurse shrugs her shoulders. “We got rid of those when we redecorated,” she says. “Years ago.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, got rid of them?” But now the nurse is picking up the phone. Jackie is chewing the inside of her cheek, trying to stay calm. Anger doesn’t solve anything. Jackie’s father puts his hand on her shoulder from behind.
    â€œI’m going to call someone to help you back to your room,” the nurse says. And Jackie lurches forward and wraps her arms around the old computer monitor on the nurse’s station. She can’t stand properly. She wants to rip this screen off her desk and smash it on the floor. But she can’t lift it.
    All her arm hair is standing up. Her mouth tastes like blood. But she can’t do it. Then her father is there, putting his arms around the computer monitor too, and they are lifting it together.
    He is lifting it up with her, even though Jackie knows that he is worried. She knows that they will have to buy a new monitor. She knows that when this is over, she is going to have to talk to somebody, too. She is crazy. She is too violent. Anger never solves anything. She hasn’t let go of her mother’s death. She hallucinates ghosts! She is crazy. How could her father not be worried? But right now he is helping Jackie, and they are lifting this monitor up over their heads. They lift it up over their heads, and Jackie’s muscles ache like gold. The sun is shining.
    â€œAre you insane?” the nurse says. But even crazy people can be heroes.
    Smash!

56
    Charlie takes the elevator down with the ghost standing beside him. She makes the whole elevator cold. Even when she’s not looking at him, when she’s staring forward at the elevator doors, her black lips move silently, like she’s given up on communicating and has simply gone mad in death.
    The knife is cold in his hand. Charlie just keeps seeing Mitchie. Mitchie stuck in the corner. Mitchie trotting out of the woods, smiling. Mitchie flopping over on his side. The ghost will help him find Mitchie. This is something he has to do.
    He knocks on the door of room 135 , but nobody answers. Inside, Martha Richards is probably sleeping. It’s the middle of the night. Charlie knocks again. The ghost waits patiently.
    After the third knock, it occurs to Charlie that he can just go in. He’s here to wave a kitchen knife in her face. He doesn’t need to politely wait for an answer. He can just go right in.
    So he pushes the door open, and a cold gust of air comes out to meet him. A different kind of cold than the ghost makes. This was a natural cold, and Charlie can see glass all over the carpet by the window. It’s been smashed in. The curtains are lifting slightly in the cold wind. Mrs. Richards is on the floor, already dead. Her face is pale in the light from the window. There are shapes crowded around her. Maybe people, maybe not. There’s black hair everywhere. They look like animals.
    Charlie turns the light on, and a creature comes at him. It looks like a girl, but her face is all wrong. The eyes are young, but the mouth has too many teeth. They’re moving around in her mouth, sliding and grinding against one another. They grind against one another and crack and split, leaving shards and jagged edges, and the girl’s mouth is still opening wider. Charlie drops the knife. This is not right. The teeth sink into his shoulder. The pain is warm.
    â€œSo this is how it happens,” Charlie says. Then there is a warm mouth on his neck. There’s a woman above him, much bigger than the girl. She pushes the girl aside with her face, like an animal might, and she leans down, mouth open, to take a chunk out of Charlie’s throat. The cold