Boardwalk

It was cold tonight, and I could see my breath in the air as I walked down the beach boardwalk. The ocean was far to my right, beyond a wide stretch of sandy shore. There were no streetlights on the beach, which made the half-moon that much brighter. I could smell the ocean from here and hear the rushing of the tides.

My destination was ahead of me, a speck of light in the distance. Joachim probably left the light on so I could find the damn place in the dark. I was in a bad mood. I hoped, for Joachim’s sake, that he wasn’t bullshitting me.

I had met Joachim at a party just last week. I was too drunk to remember how I ended up talking to him. Hell, I didn’t even remember what I wore or half the things I said that night. One thing I did remember, besides the hangover, is what Joachim showed me. It was the most incredible experience of my life.

He had called me and some boys into the back room. There he passed some joints around. I’ve tried a lot of weed in my day, but this was the best shit I’ve ever had. Each puff was like pure ecstasy all over my body. It was even better than sex. Maybe it was the alcohol, but at that time I felt like I was flying.

Joachim told me that it was his special blend. A family secret, he called it. He said he worked for a traveling carnival and his parents knew all there was to know about good weed.

I didn’t give a damn about hearing the story of his life, so I told him flat out that I wanted more. He said he’d sell me bags of the shit if I met him at the carnival in a week. Tonight.

The Ferris Wheel was the first thing I saw. Lying motionless, it looked like a gigantic shadow against the half-moon. The only light in the whole place was a couple of headlights attached to the fence.

There he was, standing at the gates, waiting for me. Joachim wore baggy jeans, a black t-shirt, and a denim jacket. He eyed me as I approached. When I stepped into the light he cocked his head, then reached into his jacket pocket. He was probably reaching for his gun.

“What’s your name, son?” Joachim asked. “I forget shit sometimes.”

“Ben.”

“Ben?” Joachim scoffed.

“As in Benjamins, hundred dollar bills,” I said, not in the mood for small talk. “You got the shit?”

“Yeah I got it. You got the money?”

“How much you got?” I said.

Joachim pulled out three bags of weed. I looked at them deliberately slow to keep him on edge. Always keep your dealers guessing, a friend once told me.

“That all?” I said. “You playing with me?”

“Hell no!” Joachim said. “I’m not bustin out all my good shit for some kid who might not be able to afford it. Now how much you got, son?”

Apparently Joachim wasn’t a fool. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a roll of bills, one thousand total.

“I got a G on it. I don’t play, kid, now do you got the shit or not?”

Joachim smiled. “Yeah I got it.” He turned around. “Right this way.”

“Hold up!” I said. “I’m not going in there!”

“What, you scared, son?” Joachim said, turning to face me. “Look, this is a family business, and for an order that big you gotta see the family. Don’t worry, son. They’ll hook you up real good.”

Joachim turned and stepped into the carnival, ending the conversation and leaving me to either follow or back down. Irritated, I followed, keeping a few steps behind him. Joachim moved with the certainty of someone who lived here. He held a flashlight, but its feeble light wasn’t nearly enough to make me feel any better.

“How long is this gonna take?” I said. “I got stuff to do tonight.”

“Not long,” Joachim said. “Just talk to my mom, take your shit, and get the fuck out of here.”

I could feel my heartbeat, quickened by anxiety. What the fuck was I thinking, following Joachim into a place like this? I realized my mistake as I looked around. We were in a wide-open space, surrounded by game stands, food carts, and rides that had long since been deactivated for the night. In how many of these places could people be hiding? If Joachim chose to have his boys jump me in the dark, take my money, beat the shit out of me or worse, I doubt I’d be able to do much about it. I had a gun in my jacket, but they probably had more guns.

I saw a shadow of a man standing in the distance ahead, and my heart almost stopped. This is it, I thought. I was now deep in Joachim’s territory. Now was the time to make his intentions clear. Was this his mother, waiting to give me what I came for, or was it one of his boys, waiting to take my money--or my life--by force?

“Who’s that?” Joachim said, sounding startled.

“You don’t know him?” I asked.

“Wait a sec.”

Joachim raised his flashlight at the dark figure standing ahead of us. The light struck a face as gray as ashes, shrouded behind a veil of long black hair. The man was staring down at an inflatable pool, filled with water and inhabited by plastic lily pads and toy ducks and frogs. He held a little plastic fishing pole. Dropping a rainbow-colored hook into the water, he waited with the patience of a seasoned fisherman.

“Jeremiah!” Joachim said firmly. “What are you doing outside? You should be sleeping.”

Jeremiah slowly looked up. “If I catch a red one I get a big prize. I want a big prize.” His eyes were bloodshot. He looked malnourished, his body lanky, his skin pale and shriveled, his hair filthy. In some twisted way, he looked like a rag doll come to life.

“What’s with this guy?” I said.

“Shut up,” Joachim snapped at me. He walked beside Jeremiah and gently wrapped his arm around him like he would a child. “What happened to the last big prize?”

“I dunno,” Jeremiah said, bewildered. “It was here, then it was there; now it’s gone. I want it back.”

“Tell you what. You get some sleep and I’ll win the big prize for you. It’ll be right next to you when you wake up, ok?”

Jeremiah beamed at him. “You promise?”

“Promise.”

Apparently satisfied, Jeremiah dropped his plastic fishing pole and started walking away, sagging with every step. When our paths crossed, he stopped and stared me in the eyes.

“Don’t remember you,” he said.

His gaze sent a chill through my body. Not knowing what to say, I took a step back. Jeremiah matched my step and grabbed me by the shoulders. He put his face to my neck and started sniffing loudly.

“You smell ... good.”

“That’s enough!” Joachim barked. I never thought I’d be so glad to hear his voice. “Get to bed, Jeremiah. Now! He’s not for you.”

Jeremiah looked disappointed. He pouted at me, then let me go and walked away, into the darkness.

I felt so chilled I could barely breathe. “What the fuck was that about?”

“Don’t mind him,” Joachim said and walked off without another word, offering no explanation.

I followed closely, not wanting to be here one second more than I had to.

Finally Joachim came to a trailer and knocked on the door. I could see the silhouette of a person in the window. The door opened, and there stood a woman wearing a puffy red dress. A gaudy necklace hung from her neck and she wore diamond rings that screamed Cubic Zirconia.

“Is this the man?” she asked.

“Yes mamma,” Joachim said.

“Come in, little one,” she said to me. “Come in.”

Joachim whispered something into the woman’s ear and she smiled. Not knowing what to make of that, I chose to ignore it. I hesitantly stepped inside, then turned around and noticed Joachim walking away.

“You not staying?” I said. Why did I want that kid to stick around? I guess I just didn’t want to be left alone with this crazy-looking woman. Joachim seemed to be the only normal person here.

“Nah, son,” Joachim said. “Gotta wait for the other boys to show up.”

The place was a dump. The floor was littered with various junk I didn’t look at long enough to name. The trailer’s small living room had a couch and a small TV. There was a table too, with three seats around it. The room smelled of incense and marijuana. I was definitely in the right place.

“I am Jerusha,” the woman said. “Please, be seated.” She gestured at the table. “It’s chilly out there, you must be so cold.”

It seemed I was dealing with a fretting housewife; not a street-savvy woman who knew how to get to the point. I was annoyed, to say the least. Not wanting to be rude, I sat down.

“Would you like some tea?” she asked.

“No thanks,” I said.

“So what brings you here?” Jerusha asked.

Was this a joke? “You mean your son didn’t tell you?”

“Oh yes, Joachim told me you want your ‘shit,’ as you children call it these days, but I like to be sociable.”

“With all due respect, miss, I’d like to just get what I came here for and be on my way.”

Jerusha sighed slowly. “So much for small talk. It’s a vanishing art nowadays. People forget to stop and smell the roses once in a while.”

She moved to sit in a chair across from me. “But first ... Ben, is it? How about we have a look into your soul?”

“You a fortune teller?”

“Not exactly. Fortune telling is a scam, you see. What I do is so much more involved than flipping tarot cards or casting runes or reading palms.”

“Look, lady, I’m not superstitious. I just want to get my shit and go.”

“In due time,” Jerusha said. “Now, would you humor an old woman and place your hands on the table, palms down?”

“My shit--”

“Will be given to you when this is done. I promise.”

Obviously she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Sighing my irritation, I did as she asked. “What now?”

“Just relax,” Jerusha said. “Clear your head of all thoughts. Let your mind drift.”

“I’m not closing my eyes,” I said pointedly. “And I’m not going to chant or hum, so forget it.”

Jerusha smiled at that. “You don’t have to.” She placed her hands on top of mine. “All we need is this. You’d be surprised what a mystic can learn from a mere touch. Just one connection.”

There was something different about her attitude, a shift so vague I almost missed it. She no longer played the worrisome housewife. That doting, motherly look in her eyes was replaced by something I could barely described. She seemed more ... aware.

I felt a tingle surge through my arm. The sensation got stronger and spread over my entire body until it felt like every nerve was on fire.

“What the fuck?” I shouted. “What are you doing?”

“Calm down,” Jerusha said.

Calm down? How could I calm down when it felt like my heart was about to explode? I tried to pull my hand out from under hers, but I couldn’t move my arms.

“Now I will see,” Jerusha said.

“See what?”

“August 12th, four years ago. You were there weren’t you, Ben?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to remember some random day four years ago?”

“By what happened on that day,” she said. “I see you now. You were rash back then. Got yourself into the wrong crowd, eh?”

“I was in a gang, so what?”

“You got involved in that gang’s petty quarrel with another, and one got caught in the middle. Too bad you didn’t tell your friend to watch where he was shooting.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You disposed of the body yourself,” Jerusha said. “He remembers the feel of the arms that bore him into the ocean. This very same ocean.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Angry beyond words, I pulled my hands from beneath Jerusha’s. I stood and reached for my gun. I put it right to the bitch’s head. She stood up, unafraid. The look in her eyes practically dared me to pull the trigger.

“I don’t know how you know about that and I don’t care,” I said. “But call the fucking cops and you’re dead!”

“Perish the thought,” Jerusha said. “I don’t need the police. I can handle trash like you all by myself.”

“Oh really?” I said, amused. “From where I’m standing it looks like you’re gonna be dead in the next few seconds.”

“What then? My family’s outside and they’re all armed. You wouldn’t last a minute if you shot me.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Jerusha’s eyes narrowed. “You think that’s a gun you hold in your hand? Look again!”

I glanced at my hand, and gasped in shock. I was holding a snake, its sinuous body coiled around my arm. It hissed as it slithered its way towards my neck. It bared its fangs, ready to strike.

Screaming, I frantically shook the snake off my arm, flinging it to the floor. Instantly Jerusha ducked and made a grab for the snake. Snatching it up, she pointed it towards my head.

The snake transformed into a gun, my gun, in the blink of an eye, the barrel aimed at my forehead. Jerusha smiled slyly at me.

“You see?” she said. “I have everything under control. You’re at my mercy now.”

“How did you--”

Jerusha winked. “A good magician never reveals her secrets, Ben. Now don’t move or I’ll blow your murdering head off!”

“I didn’t shoot him.”

“No, but you disposed of him,” Jerusha said. “How is that any better, to throw a human being away like garbage?”

Jerusha glanced towards the door. “Joachim!”

The door opened and in stepped Joachim. He took one look at the scene before him and smiled. “You haven’t lost your touch, mamma.”

“This one is weak-minded,” Jerusha said. “I could manipulate him while in a coma.”

“What are you gonna do?” I said defiantly.

“You’ll see,” said Jerusha. “You may do the honors, my son. You’ve earned it.”

“Thank you, mamma,” Joachim said.

His face lit up with glee, like a kid who’d just been given the one toy he wanted in all the world. He moved to stand in front of me.

“This is for my brother!” he said just as he punched me in the gut. I bent forward, and he clocked me in the jaw. Before I could react he kicked me in the side so hard that I lost my balance and fell to the floor.

“Don’t damage him too much!” Jerusha said. “He must be whole for your brother.”

“I know, mamma,” Joachim said.

He quickly grabbed a chair and swung, hitting me in the side of the head. The whole world flashed on impact, then I fell sideways and everything went black. There was no more pain, no more sights or sounds, only darkness.

My head hurt like hell as I slowly opened my eyes. I was laying on a bare floor. My hands were tied behind my back, so tightly that they felt numb. I tried to move, but the rope was attached to the wall. I couldn’t walk more than a few feet before reaching the limit of my bonds.

I was in a room lit by candles. Toys were scattered on the ground. I recognized most of them as prizes from the carnival’s games. A paddle with a little rubber ball attached, an inflatable punching bag, and a community of stuffed animals. Coloring books and crayons were in the mix too, and papers covered with unreadable scrawls. Drawings were hung on the walls, sloppily made in crayon as by a careless child.

One of those drawings caught my attention. A rainbow of people were gathered in a crowd, as if posing for a camera. The carnival was drawn behind them. Three people stood ahead of the crowd. It was obvious that two of those three were supposed to be Joachim and Jerusha. I could tell by how the artist had managed to capture some of Jerusha’s wizened features and Joachim’s braided hair style.

Atop the drawing the words “My Family” were scrawled in rainbow colors. I recognized Jerusha and Joachim, but who was that third person standing next to them? Was he the drawer of this picture?

“I like that one.”

I turned, startled. Standing at the other end of the room, near a doorway, was that strange man I’d seen on my way to Jerusha’s trailer. The one Joachim had called Jeremiah.

“Mamma liked it so much she gave me ice cream,” Jeremiah said cheerfully. “I like ice cream. ‘Specially with chocolate chips. Chocolate’s good.”

“What do you want with me?” I said.

“And this one,” Jeremiah said, gesturing at another picture. “I was sad when I made this one. Mamma said I shouldn’t think things like that.”

Curious, I glanced at the picture Jeremiah pointed to.

It showed a fishing boat in the middle of the ocean. A man, dressed in black, held a body in his arms. Unlike the other childish drawings, this one was painted in exquisite detail as by the hand of a true artist. He’d even captured the play of moonlight on the dark ocean waters.

There was no doubt as to what this painting depicted. This was the day I’d thrown that poor kid into the ocean, the nameless person who’d simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time and got caught in the crossfire.

“Brother said ‘artists paint what they know,’” Jeremiah said, trying to sound sagely and failing miserably. “So I started painting my dreams. Brother was sad. Mama cried. She said I mustn’t paint things like that anymore. I should paint happy things. But I’m not good at painting happy things.” He gestured at the sloppy crayon drawings as if displaying evidence of his point. “Oh well.”

All at once it dawned on me. “You ... you’re that kid, aren’t you?”

“You smell good,” Jeremiah said. “I remember that smell. I dream that smell. It was the last thing I knew before there was only water.”

I could feel myself going pale. I stared at Jeremiah in disbelief. “How did you ... how are you here?”

“What a silly question,” Jeremiah said. “I’m here because I’m here.”

“You died!” I shouted. “You were shot! I threw you into the middle of the fucking ocean! You can not be standing here, talking to me. You’re a corpse!”

Jeremiah stared at me, his expression blank. I could almost see what little color he had drain from his face. Then, suddenly, he started crying. He moaned like an infant and fell to his knees. I watched, both disgusted and stunned at seeing a grown man cry like that.

The door at the other end of the room burst open and in rushed Joachim and Jerusha. Joachim knelt beside Jeremiah and put an arm around his shoulder.

“What happened?” he said urgently. “What did he say to you? Tell me!”

“He’s so mean,” Jeremiah said, sniffing.

“We shouldn’t have left them alone with each other,” Jerusha said.

“It’s ok, bro,” Joachim cooed. “Everything will be alright.”

Jeremiah looked into his brother’s eyes. “Am I really ... dead? He said I’m dead.”

“Of course you’re not dead. You’re right here!”

“What have you done to that kid?” I murmured.

Jerusha gestured at Joachim, who nodded and gently raised Jeremiah to his feet. Whispering support and sympathy into his brother’s ear, Joachim led him out of the room, closing the door behind them.

Jerusha glared at me. “I hope you enjoyed that,” she said. “That’s the only satisfaction you’re going to get from us.”

“What did you do to him?” I demanded.

“What did I do?” she said, incredulous. “You have some nerve, don’t you?”

“Answer me!”

“For someone who’s tied up you talk boldly,” Jerusha said. “You have no idea how much shit you’re in.”

“Tell me, you psychotic fucking bitch!”

“I’ll say only this,” she said. “You just dug your own grave. Jeremiah was too innocent to go through with this. His heart needed to be hardened against you, and you’ve done just that.”

She stood and headed for the door.

“Wait!” I shouted. “If you want me dead why don’t you just shoot me already? What the hell do you want?”

“You’ll find out,” said Jerusha as she walked out the door, leaving me alone in the candle-lit room.

I tried to free my hands but the rope was too strong to break and tied too tightly to slip out of. Still I kept trying. I didn’t know exactly how long I’d kept at it before I finally gave up, caved in to exhaustion and fell asleep.

When I opened my eyes I saw darkness, the candles extinguished. The only light I could see was the soft glow of a TV on the other end of the room. I saw a figure sitting in front of the TV, to the side as if to avoid blocking my view.

“You getting this?” spoke a voice from the TV.

“Yeah,” replied another voice. My voice.

The camera panned to take in its surroundings, and instantly I recognized the place. It was a parking lot on 33rd street. Me and my friend, Deshaun, had went there the night of that recording to ...

Deshaun jumped in front of a camera, waving with his left hand. His right clenching a semiautomatic pistol.

“Hi mom!” Deshaun said.

“Cut that shit out!” I heard myself snap.

The recording paused, then fast forwarded.

“I know that fool,” Deshaun said. “He gets his shit at 1 AM, Thursdays. I’ve been watching him. He hasn’t missed a hit in months. He’ll come.”

“Speak of the Devil,” I heard myself say.

The camera zoomed on a lone figure walking towards the parking lot from the distance, too far for the naked eye to see very clearly.

“What does he look like?” Deshaun asked.

The camera scrutinized the man. “Jeans, T-shirt, denim jacket, dew rag. He’s smoking a cigarette or something. That him?”

“Sounds like him,” Deshaun said.

The camera followed the stranger as he made his way into the parking lot. It pan away to observe Deshaun as he crept along the side walls, covered in shadow. He looked at the camera, made a frantic gesture with his arms and cursed under his breath.

The cameraman--me--got the message. The next few seconds the camera recorded the pavement as the cameraman fled behind some nearby bushes. Through the foliage the camera once again looked across the parking lot, searching for the man.

Watching the video, I realized just how sloppy we were. Had the man I’d filmed been a little more observant he may have seen us.

The man stood near the entrance, waiting for his dealer to show up. The camera caught a glimpse of Deshaun, and at that moment so did the man. He turned, too late to save himself. Deshaun fired, hitting him in the chest. The man fell backwards. Wasting no time, Deshaun stood over his victim and shot him twice more in the head. The man lay lifeless on the pavement.

Deshaun laughed over the corpse. As if shooting him weren’t enough, he kicked the man in the side.

“Hey!” he called. “You can come out now.”

The cameraman left his cover and slowly crossed the length of the parking lot.

“Mother fucker,” Deshaun said to the corpse when the cameraman was close, spitting on it.

“Now what?” came my voice.

“What do you think fool?” Deshaun said. “Dump the fucker in the ocean. You got your dad’s boat ready, right?”

“Yeah.”

Deshaun knelt over the body, going through the dead man’s pockets, relieving him of the possessions he no longer had use for.

“What’s this?” Deshaun said, taking a paper bag from the man’s denim jacket. He looked inside, and his eyes widened. “Holy shit! Jesus fucking Christ!”

“What is it?”

“It’s not him!” Deshaun shouted. “It’s the fucking dealer! This bag’s full of pot! He was probably gonna sell the shit.”

“So it’s not him?”

“Are you fucking retarded?” Deshaun snapped. “No, it ain’t him!”

A shot fired, then I heard my voice from the television screaming in pain. The camera fell to the ground, and from that point it filmed nothing but the pavement and a nearby parked car.

“Mother fucker!” came Deshaun’s enraged cry. More shots were fired.

The video stopped, and the TV burst into snow and loud static. The man sitting before the TV rewound the tape and it began to play again, from the beginning.

“That was you,” he said. I recognized his voice as belonging to Jeremiah, but there was something different about it. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

“I remember now.” He stood up and approached me, limping every step of the way. “You did what the bastard told you to, like an obedient lackey. You drowned me.”

“I didn’t ... didn’t have a choice,” I said, my voice quivering. “He would have killed me if I didn’t.”

“How sad,” Jeremiah scoffed. He rushed forward and grabbed me by the neck, choking off any further protest.

This was not the pale, malnourished man I had met earlier. I didn’t know what to call this ... this ... thing. Its skin was shriveled and decayed, with gaping holes like moth-eaten linen. Its face was now close to mine, yet I couldn’t feel its breath. Its touch was cold, and wet. His whole body was drenched as if he’d just crawled from the depths of the sea.

“You took from me,” it rasped. “Now I take back.”

I could barely breath, let alone speak.

“I like that look on your face,” came a voice.

Two figures walked into the room. As they drew nearer I recognized them as Jerusha and Joachim. They wore robes that fluttered gently as they walked. Thick gold chains draped their necks, on which hung silver ornaments. One vaguely resembled a cross, imbedded with diamonds.

“There’s an old legend,” Jerusha began. “That when one dies unjustly, he can be reborn.”

“All it takes,” Joachim continued, “is the soul of everyone involved.”

The corpse of Jeremiah let go of my neck and pushed me back against the wall. He put his face to my neck, sniffing me like he did when we’d first met.

“It’s his soul that I smell,” Jeremiah said. “I know that now.”

“We found your friend,” Jerusha said. “This is the result. Jeremiah’s only half complete. A walking corpse with just a fraction of his old intellect. But now that we have you, he’ll be himself again.”

“Funny what can happen during a party,” Joachim said.

“That whole thing was a set up?” I said.

“Now you’re catching on. It was Momma’s idea. That was some good shit you lit up, wasn’t it? You know why?”

I was afraid to ask, so I didn’t. My silence did nothing to deter Joachim, however.

“Momma blessed the joints with some of my brother’s flesh. Pretty average weed for most people, but it feels fucking good to anyone who had something to do with his death.”

“No more talking,” Jeremiah said. “I want him now.”

I tried to push Jeremiah off, but he held me still with a strength that belied his frail-looking body.

“What the fuck are you gonna do?” I demanded, trying not to panic.

“Free the soul from the flesh,” Jerusha said. “And feed it into Jeremiah. Too bad you won’t be able to see the ceremony. Maybe you will, if you have an out-of-body experience, but I’ve never tried this sort of thing on myself, so who knows?”

“No more words,” Jeremiah growled. He brought his face to my neck; I felt his rotted teeth bite into my skin. I screamed in pain. He lifted his head to look me in the eyes, and his mouth was covered in blood.

“Free your soul,” he whispered.

Suddenly my whole body felt cold as ice. My limbs went numb. I couldn’t feel my arms or legs. I would have fell if Jeremiah didn’t have me pinned against the wall. My vision blurred; everything began to sound distant and faint. It was as if all the energy had been torn from my body by that one bite.

Soon there was nothing. No sight or sound, no darkness or light. Just ... nothing.