Release(42)

“I had him inside me, Dad, so you can’t even pretend it’s a phase.”

“I pray for you to cast the devil from this place–”

“Quite a lot of things with our mouths, too.”

“Jesus, please, I beseech you–”

“He’s really hairy down there, which you wouldn’t think on such a clean-shaven guy–”

“ADAM!” his father shouted, in a voice Adam could remember him using only once or twice in his life. He tensed, realizing he was waiting to be struck. His father had risen, his arms were out from his bullish body, one meaty hand braced for a slap at the very least– But it never came. Adam would forever wonder how much fight had gone on inside Big Brian Thorn not to land it.

“You will never speak to me like that again,” his dad said to him.

“You’re the one who begged me to be honest with you. Not my fault if you can’t take it.”

“You’re going home. You’re going straight home and you’re not leaving the house for anything except church and whatever Christian school we’re going to find for you.”

“It’s my senior year. I’m not changing schools.”

“I’m not interested in your opinion on the matter.”

“And I’m not interested in yours.”

“Adam,” his dad said, all warning now.

“And I’m going from here to meet Angela. And I’m going to the party with her. And I’m not going to stop seeing my boyfriend.”

“Yes, you are.”

And here, Adam did something he couldn’t ever remember doing. He stepped towards his father, as a physical challenge, a show of the bravery his anger was making him feel but which he knew would run out fast.

His father, astonished, stepped back.

“Do you know why I’m going to do all those things?” Adam said. “Because they’re my family. They love me. They are who I go to when things are hard. That hasn’t been you for years, Dad, and do you really never wonder whose fault that is?”

“I am your father–”

“A father with conditions. I have to be a certain way to be your son.”

“Through prayer, everything is possible–”

“I don’t know, I’ve prayed for years to change your heart. Nothing’s happened so far.”

“Adam–”

“I’m going.”

“You are not.”

Adam waited to see if his dad would stop him. There was no contest if it came to bodily restraint. Adam had edged up taller, but his dad outweighed him by at least a hundred pounds.

But his dad didn’t move.

“Do you even love me?” Adam asked.

“More than my own life,” his dad said, immediately.

“But you don’t want to have to do anything with that love. You don’t want it to have to work.”

“You have no idea how much I work to love you.”

And there it was, the blow after all. Even Big Brian Thorn seemed to realize it because he didn’t try to stop Adam as he left The House Upon The Rock, got into his car and drove off to find Angela.

Drove off to find his family.





She has killed them all, and they have welcomed it. They have seen the Queen that the faun sees, and she has judged them and found them wanting, a sentence they have accepted with a relief so palpable he could almost see it being expelled in the air.

One by one, they drop to the floor of their cells as she passes. He hurries to restore life to them, knowing even as he brings them back to simple unconsciousness that they will curse him in dreams for their revivification.

This is what the Queen does. This is why she must remain away, hidden from those who cannot see her truly. This is why the agreements were made in the first place. But they will fail if he cannot get her out of here.

It will not matter to him. He will be the first that she kills. But he values his world, values his own life, values his Queen’s above all else. They will not end if he can help it.

And so he brings breath back into the lungs of the dead men, one by one, as she kills them, one by one, steadily making her way to the end of the corridor.

The man she wants is in the last cell.

They are nearing an ending, the faun knows. He wishes he knew what it will be.





She reaches the man’s cell. She turns to him. The Queen and the girl, Katie, turn to him, and they are now so interleaved that neither is entirely sure which of them speaks.

“Hello, Tony,” they say. “My murderer.”





THE GET-TOGETHER





“Oh, Adam,” Angela said, as she set the last of tonight’s pizzas on the conveyor belt that would take them under the flames.

“I know.”

“Jesus.”

“I know.”

“Do you think they’ll come here? It’s not like they don’t know where I work. Emery does all those big orders for your church teen group.”

Adam’s phone was a billboard of unanswered texts, most of which were variations on Come home right now. But they were only texts. No one had actually called him. Except, oddly, Marty. Over and over again from Marty. Who finally texted, too. Please tell me you’re okay, bro.