Inches and Miles - Part 2 (A Dark Shadows Story)

[lovesrain44]

Buzz rode Loomis to a little beach he knew of, just north of town. It wasn't very big, just a half-moon of sand, rimmed with layers of rock and rows of trees. There was only one dirt road that led to it, and, with no facilities, there were no tourists. Even if there had been some, it was too early in the season and too late at night for them to be about.

When he parked the bike at the spot where the gravel ended and the sand began, Loomis got off.

Buzz grabbed the beer and led them to a point in the sand just above where the high tide mark was, and when Buzz mentioned that a bonfire might be nice, Loomis promptly built one. He had the matches on him and everything. Buzz thanked him but the other man shrugged him off, saying something about knowing how and liking to do it.

"Okay, then," said Buzz, when the fire was brightly burning and the smell of ash and wood floated across the scent of the sea. "Here, have a cold one."

He sat down in the cool sand, pulling a bottle from the container, popping it open with the leverage from his key chain. Loomis looked at him, still standing, and Buzz waved his hand over the sand. "Take a load off, man," he said.

With a bare nod, Loomis sat down, and, watching him, Buzz saw him wince and shift to one hip.

"You okay there?" he asked.

Loomis shrugged as he settled himself into the sand. "Yeah, 'm alright. Guess I'll take that beer now."

Buzz tossed him one and Loomis caught it, opening it with his own key chain and taking a large, deep swallow. Then Buzz rested his hands between his bent knees, letting the bottle dangle between his legs.

For a few moments, neither of them said anything as the fire gained in momentum and the quiet of the small half-moon bay grew in the darkness beyond the constant, regular hush of the waves along the beach. The Black Cats would usually be too loud to notice the rough silence and too drunk to appreciate the calm and slow push of air across the water. Buzz knew he'd made the right choice.

"So," he began slowly. "I'm leaving town tomorrow."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Buzz replied. "And I have your friend Jason to thank for it."

"Jason?" Loomis sat up, almost spilling his beer, looking at him from across the fire. "Why Jason?"

"Cause he isn't here anymore, man, and that means Carolyn doesn't need me anymore to throw in her mommy's face, and so that means that I'm free to fly."

Loomis answered him with silence. A furrow appeared over his eyes as he thought this over. Finally, as if he'd wondered it for some time, he asked, "So you know she was using you?"

"Yeah, sure I knew. Not at first, but then, well, it was obvious I wasn't her kind of man."

"How did you-"

"Because she's not the kind of chick to go calling for dates. She's got to beat them off with a stick. And yet, out of the blue, she calls me, when before that she wouldn't answer any of my calls. Didn't realize it till I met up with McGuire. Don't suppose you know where he is so you could pass along my thanks?"

A long pause now, infinitely long, as Loomis' eyes went unfocused and he stared into the fire.
"No," came the quiet answer. "I don't know where he is."

"So he split town, and that's cool. But I wanted to pass it along somehow, which is why I invited you. Do you get it now?"

"Yeah, I get it."

Yeah, Loomis got it all right. And so had Buzz, after the first date or so. Carolyn calling him had felt like Christmas and New Year all rolled up together. And soon after that, so very soon, the cornsilk hair was beneath his hands, and that bright, pert face was looking up at him. Blue eyes alive and laughing, small, light hands on his hips, tucking themselves into his pockets.

His head spinning with his first invitation, he'd gone up to Collinwood and met up with Mrs. Stoddard. Stern faced and holding herself like a strung wire, she'd disapproved of him, his bike, his jacket, and his loud boots, all without saying a word. That he had expected, welcomed it even. But, after all, Carolyn had called him, so what right did mommy have to say different?

The whole family had disapproved of him, with the exception of that David kid, who he'd caught trying to climb on his bike. He'd pulled him off, promising him a ride one day, determined to ignore the sour face of the housekeeper staring at him from the drapes of the front windows, had waited for Carolyn.

The first few dates had been like pieces of heaven, her on the back of the bike, arms wrapped around his waist, head pressed between his shoulder blades. But then the stories had come about some guy, Jason McGuire. And the anger Carolyn felt over her mother's plans to marry him could not be disguised. She practically spat his name when she talked of him, an ugliness showing that had she been aware of, he was sure she would have taken pains to hide.

It became obvious that he was being used when he realized how different she was than when he'd tried to date her the year before. Then she'd been a prim and proper miss, not a hair out of place, looking down her nose at the common folk, the typical rich girl. Now, she wore jeans, and let her hair hang as it would, and it was such a total turnaround that he'd begun to pay attention.

What’s more, the whole while she determinedly went with him, biking across the countryside, dancing until she dropped, drinking her way into a stupor every chance she got, she’d had a small, sad, flat expression that she would get when she thought he wasn't looking. Then she would catch him watching her and straighten up and smile and laugh. As if everything was all right. Upon discovering her duplicity, it was that sad, still look in her eyes that kept him from setting her by the roadside and driving off forever.

The laugh, slightly too high and on the verge of being hysterical, became even more pronounced when there were other people around. He got used to it, forced himself to almost ignore it and concentrate only on the sparkle in her smile or the sweet purse of her lips when she was about to kiss him. He longed for it to be real forever, but it never happened. Except for the one time at the Blue Whale when McGuire had tried to bribe him to stay away from Carolyn. She'd been in the bathroom, powdering her nose, and when she'd come back, he'd spilled the beans. McGuire had been shocked, and Buzz had waited for her to explode at both of them. Instead, she looked at Buzz with real laughter in her eyes, and hugged him. He could feel it inside of her as she clasped him to her, a sort of amazed chuckle as if at his ability to resist Jason McGuire's charms. And then, after McGuire had gone, her face had looked even sadder than before.

Loomis had been there that night with McGuire, when they'd first walked in. His head had been down, in his usual manner, not saying a word, not catching anyone's eye. No one had acknowledged that he was even there, for the most part, and he'd left the Blue Whale a little later on silent feet. Like a cat trying to escape notice. Carolyn's comments about Loomis that night had been scathing, as if he too were a part of this. Loomis and McGuire had come to town together, he was told, and they'd cooked up some scheme, only now Loomis worked for Cousin Barnabas and McGuire was digging for power and gold on his own. And that Collins kept Loomis on a leash so tight that Loomis was almost choking.

But he deserves it, you know? After he harassed and scared Vicki and me. He's as bad as McGuire.

But she didn't quite sound like she believed it anymore, even if she once did.

Does he bother you now? he'd wanted to know. For surely he'd have to take care of Loomis if this were true.

Her answer had surprised him. No, Willie doesn't bother me these days.

In fact, according to Carolyn, he never bothered anyone. He was a totally different man, so much under Cousin Barnabas' thumb that it was almost hard to watch. Cousin Barnabas could be quite severe with Willie, she'd said, and that was as close as he'd ever heard her come to criticizing her cousin.

He'd met Collins once and only once, and upon leaving tomorrow, hoped never to have the pleasure again. It had happened when he'd been again waiting in the foyer at Collinwood. Carolyn was forever powdering her nose, but he suspected that she was actually giving herself pep talks as much as anything else. Determined to break up her mother's marriage to Jason McGuire, she was prepared to go to any lengths, it seemed. Including dating him.

Collins had shown up in the foyer, silently, and Buzz had spun around at the sound of a single footstep, suspecting later that if Collins hadn't wanted him to hear it, he wouldn't have. He seemed that kind of fellow. Had looked Buzz up and down without a word, then held out his hand.

"Young Mr. Hackett, I presume," he said, without any warmth in his eyes. "Paying court to my Cousin Carolyn?"

Buzz took the offered hand and shook it, not wincing at the ice-cold grasp. He was used to the disapproval of the members of the family, and had suspected that this would also be the case with Carolyn's eccentric cousin. However, the dislike was so instant in that meeting that it was at that point that Buzz began to grow weary of the game, of Carolyn's determination to fling him in her family's face.

"You presume correctly, man," he said anyway, playing his role, tipping his head back to show he wasn't intimidated. "I come, paying court, but bring no ministers to herald my arrival."

A long silent moment followed what had been intended to be a fairly innocent statement, one that most would have no knowledge of the source, and he did not expect to be questioned. Not in this part of Maine where the best sellers were the Farmer's Almanac and the Maine Gazetteer. But Collins' brows had lowered, and his eyes had narrowed, snake-like. "Shakespeare?" he asked.

Buzz hid his laugh, but barely. "No, man, that was Johnson. Dr. Samuel Johnson."

Another pause, and Buzz knew that he'd made the other man look bad, even if only in his eyes and Buzz's. Even if there weren't witnesses, it was a mistake, of course it was, and that was bad karma, but just on the heels of that thought he realized how cold the room was getting. As if the frosty air from the north of Canada had suddenly forgotten that it was end of spring. A slight movement and Collins stepped forward, his cane coming an inch off of the slate tile in the foyer. Then he paused and put it down again. Buzz kept himself from stepping back, feeling a ripple of coldness slip up his spine.

Bad karma, all the way around. A life lived without another meeting with Collins would be a very good one indeed.

"Carolyn said," he began now to Willie, opening up his second and final beer of the night, "that you came with McGuire and that the two of you had this plan to control mommy's money."

It was the wrong question to ask, obviously. But it was too late; he'd never seen a still form move so fast. Loomis leaped to his feet, casting sand on the fire, making it sputter, sending his beer to foam over the rocks. About ready to run off, chest heaving, looking for a place to go. His face was in the shadows now, but Buzz recognized the other man's stance as being the same one he'd taken along the road, when Buzz had offered him help for his stranded truck. Didn't take much, apparently, to get Loomis as tense as a tight rope walker.

Buzz took a swig of his beer. "Hey, man, I could give a hang about that, so cool it, okay? Like I said, I'm for the road tomorrow."

"Then why did you say that? Why did you bring me here?"

With silent eyes, Buzz looked up at the man shaking on the other side of the fire. "Do you think I care about any of that?" he asked, waving his bottle in the air. "The Collins family has more money than sense. I just wanted to know, that's all. Seems strange you come here with McGuire. Carolyn said you were good friends, but you didn't leave with him."

The statement hung in the dark silence of the beach like a burst backfiring from a poorly-tuned engine.

"I-I don't-" began Loomis, then he stopped.

"C'mon, man, sit down." Buzz waved at the fire. "I don't care, okay?"

Another sip of his beer, and then a swallow, and then he looked up to see Loomis staring at him. Still standing, a sentinel at the gates. A sudden wind kicked up and as Loomis turned his head away from the grit flinging itself down the beach, Buzz caught a clear glimpse of his expression, eyes closed, mouth compressed in a thin line.
Time to backtrack then. All the way back.

Buzz shrugged and concentrated on his beer, taking long swigs while the wind died down and the silence of the beach absorbed him. After several moment of this, Loomis sat down, almost without a sound, and Buzz saw him take a mouthful of his beer.

Then he heard Loomis take a breath.

"Can't tell you what Jason's plan was," Loomis said. "Just know that he had one, is all. An' I guess it was about money, but-" Here Loomis stopped again, with a half shrug, the movement of his leg sending sand into the fire, causing it to spit. "Guess nothin' ever came of it."

This small bit of information was possibly more than Loomis had told anyone up at Collinwood, including that boss of his. He sounded as if not only hadn't he known, but that he didn't want to know. Leaving Buzz to wonder what had happened between two friends who had once been as thick as thieves.

Buzz realized he had opened the door to someone else's bad memories. Definitely not the way to start off on a journey. There had to be something he could do; it would all come back to good karma if he could. At any rate, it was time to change the subject.

He took a swallow of his beer, and then set the empty bottle against a dark rock half-hidden in the sand and looked up. The stars above were specs of chalk in black glass above him. Only here weren't just a million stars, there were hundreds of millions, as thick as flour thrown on a dark cutting board. All spread out from horizon to horizon, like flurries of snow in a blizzard, a broad curving ribbon of white, and Buzz tipped back his head to take it all in.

"Think the stars on the west coast will look like this, Loomis?"

Loomis did not look up. Instead he seemed to be concentrating his efforts on piling sand up over his feet. Could have been the beer, could have been idle action. But he was totally focused on this, his profile a hard line in the flickering light of the flames of the small bonfire that burned between them.

"Sure," Loomis said finally, taking a swig of his beer. "Stars stay pretty much the same, long as you're in the northern hemisphere."

Loomis had been a sailor, had been around the world, if Carolyn's casual remarks were anything to go by, and the tone was meant to be assured, Buzz could tell. But it was delivered in a way that somehow spoke of a lack of interest. As if all the stars could go out and the night sky could become a blanket of black for all he cared. Seemed an odd state of affairs for a sailor. Even an ex-sailor. Just didn't seem right.

"Loomis?"

"Yeah."

"Do me a favor."

The edge of Loomis' body went tense and still. "What."

"Put your beer down and look up at the stars, man."

There was a flash of eyes as Loomis looked over at him. Then a pause, and a slow inhale and exhale of breath.

Buzz nodded, twisting the empty beer bottle by his feet into the cool curve of sand beneath his hand. "C'mon man, it won't hurt."

Another pause, and then Loomis slowly put down his beer. Tipped his head back. And looked up.

For a long moment, he was silent. Perfectly silent, frozen in that position, and as the firelight flared up as it burned through a thin part of the wood, the blaze revealed that his mouth had fallen open. Silence rushed through the fire, and the waves hushed over the sand.

"Oh-" Buzz heard.

Just at that moment, he saw Loomis lean too far back, and collapse, unbalanced, in the sand. His head must have hit with a thump, but he never said a word. Never made a sound. Just lay there, a dark form in the sand, eyes only small bright spots in one long shadow.

"Christ, I-" A gulp and a swallow. "I had forgotten."

Forgotten the stars?

Buzz lifted a handful of sand and threw it on the fire. Threw another big handful on, dousing the flames until they were only low, banked coals. Enough heat to see them through for a bit, but no light to distract from the stars overhead. Smoke rose up from the coals that winked from cherry red to grey, and then Buzz heard Loomis clear his throat.

"Thank you," he heard, and it was almost a whisper.

Buzz laid back himself, tucking his hands under his head, feeling the sift of cold granules of sand as they made their way into his collar. Yeah, he'd be coated with sand in about a minute and a half, but it didn't matter. Not in the face of the good karma that was floating over them so thick and high that it reached the stars themselves.

*

When he dropped Loomis back off at the Old House, it was far later than it should have been, and he was going to be very tired for the trip in the morning, but it had been worth it. Loomis slid off the bike, slowly again, and turned to walk into the house.
"Hey, Loomis?"

"Yeah?" Loomis stopped and looked at him.

"You're a brother of the road, I can see it in your eyes. Why don't you come with me tomorrow? The bike can carry two as easy as one."

"No, I can't." The reply was automatic, even before thought, it seemed like.

"Why?"

"I just c-can't, okay?" Now the stutter was back, and that over-the-shoulder glance he'd seen from before.

"Hey, c'mon, man, what's keeping you here? Collinwood's a drag, you know that."

In the light of the stars, Buzz saw Loomis half close his eyes as if something pained him. And from behind him, he could see an outline of someone in the kitchen, moving forward as if moving to open the door. In a second it would be opened, and the karma of the evening would be shattered.

"Look, man, if you change your mind," he said quickly, "I'm leaving from the Blue Whale at 6 a.m. You wanna go with me? That's where I'll be. Okay, man?"

The door opened.

"Willie."

Buzz lifted his head, recognizing Collins, but not the tone. He'd only talked to the man once, but nothing Carolyn had said had hinted at the nasty edge to his voice.

Loomis reached for Buzz's hand, clasping it, his palm ice cold, shaking. "Thanks, Buzz," he said,” G-good luck on your trip. Stay upright, okay?"

"Okay, I'll do that."

It was so hurried, so sharp and final. But Loomis was already walking toward the house and so there was nothing for it but to start the bike and go home. Buzz pushed the throttle, drowning out the sound of the door to the house opening and closing, and popped it into first. Time for thoughts later. Time for finalizing for his trip now.

*

Fog was so common in this part of Maine, especially so early in the morning, that he normally didn't think anything of it. Didn't think anything of it now, except that the swath of grey air seemed intent on keeping him from seeing anyone coming down the road. He sat straddled on his bike, the engine in neutral as it burbled between his thighs, and waited. Not that he thought Loomis would really join him, but he might, and that was enough. Besides, Buzz had asked him and said he'd wait and so here he was. And beyond that promise was the thought that Loomis would make a good companion on the road. But he couldn't wait forever.

By the time the sun broke the trees, the fog lifted, spinning away in grey strands from the road that led out of town. The white stripes down the middle beckoned, pulling toward the distance and breaking over the top of that first hill. The bells announcing the start of the six o’clock shift at the cannery went off. Time to go, then.

Buzz pressed on the clutch and toed the bike into first. He eased the gas on and, turning the bike westward, headed out of town.

Sequel - Fleet of Stars

Part 1 Inches and Miles