The hiss of the cat makes him jump and turn away from the shelf in time to see Odd, apparently in some kind of distress, though he'd been sleeping perfectly peacefully moments before.
"Huh?" I answer, ever the wordsmith, then feel a faint flush of embarrassment begin to creep up my cheeks at having been caught in the throes of a nightmare by Eric Taylor. There are few people on this island who are as authoritative as Chief Wyatt Porter was capable of being, but Eric is one of them.
"A nightmare, sir," I admit, planting my feet firmly on the ground as if that might banish the horrible images from my mind. "Just a nightmare."
He nods. He'd suspected as much. "Looked like. Bad?"
He's had more than his share since arriving here; mostly to do with Tami and Julie and those he doesn't like to think about in any detail, but there have been other ones, nosebleeds that don't stop and watching his skin turn yellow. As good as this place can be, maybe it's just a part of living here.
Though I do trust Tim, I sometimes wonder if perhaps he's told anyone my secret and when I look at Eric for a moment, I think about telling him everything. Instead, just for now, I nod.
"The worst," I answer with a soft sigh. "Before I came here there was a horrible attack at home. That sort of thing never really goes away."
He sits down on the couch next to Odd, unsure whether he should nod and say something vaguely comforting about here being safe--which he knows isn't entirely true anyway--or try to get a little more. Finally curiosity gets the best of him. If Odd doesn't want to talk about it, he'll hopefully just say so.
Ozzie would tell me that talking about it is cathartic and that I should take the opportunity presented to me, so I suck in a deep breath and say, "Three men came to Pico Mundo and made lives for themselves, but they weren't there for a new start. They were... evil people. Two became cops and one became a teacher, people trusted them."
I had trusted them. I had trusted Simon Varner and then he'd cut Stormy down in a rain of bullets.
"They planted a bomb in the mall and opened fire on the crowd with automatic weapons," I continue. "Forty-one people were injured. Nineteen died. I was shot twice."
He doesn't know exactly what he'd been expecting; 'attack' doesn't suggest anything pleasant, but the answer still stuns him into silence with its sheer brutality, and the way it's delivered.
"Jesus," he says finally, shaking his head. And then, because it's the first thing that comes to his head, "why'd they do it?"
I remember Kevin Gosset's words, even when I try to forget them. The Chief had hidden nothing from me in the days following the attack on the mall and Gosset's confession had been enough to indict both him and Bern Eckles. Simon Varner had been killed.
Clearing my throat, I say, "They were part of a satanic cult. They made plans to target a town not too large to be difficult, but not too small that it would go unnoticed and they intended to bring Hell on earth to that town. They tried to murder our police chief and the mall was only the first in a series of horrors, but they were stopped before it went any further."
He could say a lot of things--thank God for that, or at least you're okay, right? But they all sound hollow in his head and he has to content himself with shaking his head again.
"Biggest dramas where I'm from couldn't compare to that," he says after another few seconds, and smiles ruefully. "People'd complain that Dillon was boring. Think maybe they didn't know how lucky they were."
"Boring sounds wonderful, to be perfectly honest, sir," I admit with a smile. "It's why I never left Pico Mundo before I came here. There are too many of them out there in the world."
I've said that before I realize what's slipping out of my mouth and immediately my eyes widen just slightly. Here on the island I feel as though I've gotten lax with my secret. I've only told Tim and Shari, but even in Pico Mundo, only four people knew all my secrets.
He doesn't really understand the words, and he doesn't really understand Odd's reaction to them, either, though it suggests to him that there might be a lot more here to understand than he knows. He raises an eyebrow.
I'm a terrible liar, until the moments when it really matters. When it's a matter of life or death, particularly my life, I'm a whiz when it comes to spinning a believable yarn.
This is not a matter of life or death and as a result, I stammer stupidly for a moment before I say, "Ghosts, sir. Please don't think I'm crazy, I swear I'm not. If I could have unseen them at any point before my arrival here, I would have."
"I'm..." He feels slightly taken aback. Ghosts hadn't been what he'd expected, exactly, but for Odd to be this nervous about telling him.... they have both been living on the same island for however long now. He shakes his head.
"Son, with what I've seen since I got here... I don't think you're crazy. If I thought you were, I'd have to think half the people here were too, and I'm not comfortable with that."
"I know the island is strange, sir, but this was before the island," I admit reluctantly, knowing that the island works as an excuse for a great many things, but not for my gift. "I've been seeing them since I was seven years old. I've told Tim about it, I'm not sure if he believes me."
Although I understand that not everyone will believe me, it's still disheartening to admit a secret of such vast proportions to someone I trust and be met with skepticism.
He snorts a little at that. "I'm never all that sure what Riggins thinks," he says. "He keeps himself to himself." And sometimes behaves in ways that defy explanation.
"But either way, I believe you. You don't seem like the crazy type to me, anyway, though I'm no psychologist." In Odd's world... maybe seeing ghosts is possible. With everything else he's learned, he's got no reason to suppose that it's not. Hell, he's got no reason to be sure that it's not possible in his world, though he's never exactly believed in it.
"Thank you, sir," I say and I have to think my gratitude is likely evident in my voice. "I don't tell many people about it, you see. I know that it's a lot to ask people to accept and back home it was just safer for me to keep it to myself. I feared what people might ask of me and expect of me if they were to find out."
Eric frowns, concerned. "Odd? You alright?"
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"A nightmare, sir," I admit, planting my feet firmly on the ground as if that might banish the horrible images from my mind. "Just a nightmare."
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He's had more than his share since arriving here; mostly to do with Tami and Julie and those he doesn't like to think about in any detail, but there have been other ones, nosebleeds that don't stop and watching his skin turn yellow. As good as this place can be, maybe it's just a part of living here.
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"The worst," I answer with a soft sigh. "Before I came here there was a horrible attack at home. That sort of thing never really goes away."
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"What kind of attack?"
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I had trusted them. I had trusted Simon Varner and then he'd cut Stormy down in a rain of bullets.
"They planted a bomb in the mall and opened fire on the crowd with automatic weapons," I continue. "Forty-one people were injured. Nineteen died. I was shot twice."
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"Jesus," he says finally, shaking his head. And then, because it's the first thing that comes to his head, "why'd they do it?"
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Clearing my throat, I say, "They were part of a satanic cult. They made plans to target a town not too large to be difficult, but not too small that it would go unnoticed and they intended to bring Hell on earth to that town. They tried to murder our police chief and the mall was only the first in a series of horrors, but they were stopped before it went any further."
They hadn't been stopped soon enough.
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"Biggest dramas where I'm from couldn't compare to that," he says after another few seconds, and smiles ruefully. "People'd complain that Dillon was boring. Think maybe they didn't know how lucky they were."
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I've said that before I realize what's slipping out of my mouth and immediately my eyes widen just slightly. Here on the island I feel as though I've gotten lax with my secret. I've only told Tim and Shari, but even in Pico Mundo, only four people knew all my secrets.
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"What d'you mean, 'them'?"
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This is not a matter of life or death and as a result, I stammer stupidly for a moment before I say, "Ghosts, sir. Please don't think I'm crazy, I swear I'm not. If I could have unseen them at any point before my arrival here, I would have."
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"Son, with what I've seen since I got here... I don't think you're crazy. If I thought you were, I'd have to think half the people here were too, and I'm not comfortable with that."
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Although I understand that not everyone will believe me, it's still disheartening to admit a secret of such vast proportions to someone I trust and be met with skepticism.
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"But either way, I believe you. You don't seem like the crazy type to me, anyway, though I'm no psychologist." In Odd's world... maybe seeing ghosts is possible. With everything else he's learned, he's got no reason to suppose that it's not. Hell, he's got no reason to be sure that it's not possible in his world, though he's never exactly believed in it.
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