by
Anne O'Dea
Until the Spring of 2005 seventeen year old Evan Prior would have said that his life was good. And though memory of his mother’s death five years earlier could still bring sombre moods, he believed himself blessed in his family. His sister Haven was an eleven year old extrovert whom he loved beyond what he would willingly admit, though she drove him crazy at times. And his dad, who owned the leather goods store on Main Street – well, Evan thought he was cool for a dad, plus if even half of what he heard in school was true they could talk about stuff better than most.
And in the past year Joely Waits had entered their lives. She taught Haven English in Junior High. Like Evan she loved to write, though unlike him she was a practical can-do kind of person, and her presence around the Prior place, becoming more frequent as she and Evan’s dad got closer, had brought a dimension to the family that was essentially female and soothing. As far as Evan was concerned Joely added to the sum of things, and his dad had lost the edge of sadness he had tried to hide these past years.
Spring had come early to Wyattsbrook PA, and already the temperature was like May or June. Bare arms appeared, reddening with the beginnings of summer, smiles and easy strides everywhere signalling a heartfelt welcome after the icy grip of winter. The world hummed with life, and in the midst of all this Evan felt invisible. So all enveloping was the fear that consumed him now that it was nearly impossible to remember a time when his life would have seemed unremarkable.
Evan was an interior kind of boy, rarely gregarious, and in final year at Wyattsbrook High he reckoned few if any of his classmates knew him well, or felt anything other than a generalised good will towards him. One of his beliefs was that trouble mainly came when you went looking for it. If you did what you were supposed to do, and kept a generally low profile, trouble seemed to look elsewhere. But it turned out that this was not always the case.
A week earlier, ten days before school was due to break, he had stopped at the desk of Donny Krauss, something that happened maybe every millennium. Donny Krauss, although the youngest son of Wyattsbrook’s top family, was not someone you hung around with, not if you were either a) normal or b) valued your reputation. Evan did not reckon he fell particularly into either category, but right off his own bat he had never experienced any desire to spend more than a polite second in Krauss’s company.
The laces on one of his sneakers had come undone, and without thought he’d raised his foot to the back of Donny’s chair to secure it. It was probably due to the number of late nights that he spent roaming the Net that he observed and automatically memorised the site address Donny was doodling a second before the boy had spread his hand to conceal it. As he turned to glare their eyes met, and for an instant Evan saw something he could not interpret.
The encounter lasted no more than seconds and had slipped from Evan’s mind in moments. It was not until nearly midnight, with the household asleep around him, that the web address returned to his consciousness. He grabbed a pen and visualised what he had seen: www.sarinantidotes.gov.com. What the hell? The word sarin rang a bell, he recalled something to do with a Japanese cult planting sarin gas in the Tokyo underground. Well, fair enough at one level. He’d looked up sites often enough with far weirder addresses than this one. It was the expression in Donny Krauss’s eyes that caused Evan to linger on the matter, and to type in the web address.
Three hours later he crawled into his bed. His dreams were peopled with cult-like figures and very real images, downloaded to his subconscious, of the dead and dying in Tokyo underground. Bodies choking, blood pouring from their mouths and horrified eyes. When he finally woke, greasy sweat covered his body, which was easy enough to remove under a scalding shower. Less easily offloaded was the dark cloud of anxiety that permeated his mind and accompanied him into the kitchen.
“You’re looking grumpier than usual,” Haven eyed her brother over the glass of orange juice Joely had squeezed for her. Evan ignored her. He did not feel up to breakfast bickering.
“You okay?” Joely’s bright brown eyes smiled at him. She was at the kitchen door about to call Davey Prior to his breakfast. Evan felt the small stab of gladness that often struck when he saw Joely, or even thought about her. She was short, nearly a foot shorter than his dad. Her fair hair was tousled even when she brushed it. Her skin reminded Evan of one of those old-fashioned Fall apples, not the kind you ever saw in supermarkets.
“Fine,” he said, reaching for his cereal in the overhead press.
Evan normally enjoyed riding his bike to school on a Spring day. But this morning his thoughts were anxious and uncertain. Maybe he should ask Donny Krauss, in a casual way of course, if his interest in the Aum Shrinrikyo cult and sarin gas was connected to their class study of mass murderers such as Molosevic, currently on trial for war crimes.
A mile from school he spotted his friend Lyle careering towards him, one hand raised in a cheery wave. Lyle was the son of Matt and Ellie Rossiter who owned a farm a couple of miles south of town. With learning difficulties and a memory that was erratic at best, he was often the butt of local kids. But his life, helping on the farm in any number of small ways, seemed to Evan to be a happy and productive one.
Every now and then Lyle decided that racing his best friend Evan to the school gate was a terrific way to start the day, and Evan was usually glad to oblige, allowing the boy to win more often than not. He was not in the mood now, but you couldn’t explain that to Lyle, not without crushing him you couldn’t. So they raced, Evan panting and puffing as he always did, Lyle beaming as he braked first in front of the main gate.
“See ya, Evan,” he chanted. “You have a great day now!”
“You too, Lyle.”
As he pushed his bicycle towards the rear of the school where the sheds lined a back wall, Evan’s thoughts returned compulsively to the subject of Donny Krauss. Maybe the best thing was to say nothing. After all, the guy didn’t even know he had seen that address.
Afterwards Evan wondered what would have happened if there had been other kids around when he broached the subject. Indeed, he was not sure himself why he chose the mid-morning break to speak with the guy. Most of the class were in the yard enjoying the weather, but predictably Krauss had remained at his desk. When he spotted the heavy figure staring out the window, something in his bearing darkened Evan’s anxiety further, and he made his decision.
“Hey,” he said, easing the door shut behind him.
Krauss looked around, the surly expression on his face increasing. He did not reply. Evan fished around nervously for an opening, then remembered his father’s advice. “Keep things simple, son,” Davey Prior said often, “it’s best in the long run.”
“Happened to catch that web address yesterday,” Evan said, annoyed at the slight catch in his voice. Making a determined effort to sound natural and casual, he continued, “Guess you’re researching for Campbell’s class..”
Nothing could have prepared him for what happened next. Donny Krauss’s face turned an extraordinary shade, a pale purple that seemed almost blue, and his eyes narrowed to near invisibility. “The fuck you sayin’, Prior? You tryin’ to be smart? That it? You tryin’ to be smart?”
Evan shook his head, shocked to the core. Where on earth was this coming from?
Krauss raced on. “Cos if you are, you’re makin’a a big mistake. You try and stop me, I’ll take your sister, isn’t she the little beaut, just waitin’ to be plucked, and I promise you she’ll never be the same again.”
Evan felt as if he had been sucker punched. His breakfast threatened to leave his stomach. Had this low-life just threatened to rape Haven, his baby sister? White hot rage consumed him. He’d never let the bastard near Haven, he’d protect her, he’d tell the cops… “Why, you little creep..” he began.
But Krauss was continuing as if he had not uttered a word. “And if that ain’t enough Prior, I’ve been checking out your Dad’s little girlfriend. Joely, right? She’s first to your place Mondays, right? How about Joely and I get together too, maybe just after me and Haven? Hey? How about that?”
Evan stared at the icy venom in the other boy’s face. He believed him. He believed him utterly. “You can’t do that,” he heard himself say feebly.
“See if I can’t,” Krauss spat. “And you know what else I can do? Your father does the accounts Mondays, and he’s alone in the store then, right? How about after Joely and I have had our little visit, I drop in on Daddy? Maybe turn the key before I burn the place down? You wouldn’t like that, would you, Prior?”
“Why are you saying all this?” Evan whispered.
Krauss stared at him. He was breathing heavily. “Because I’ve got plans,” he said. “I’ve had plans for a long time. And I’m not having a nobody like you getting in my way.”
“Plans.” Evan said the word without emphasis. Despite having read about the details on that web site, and having woken full of dread from his dreams, he could not grasp this monster’s meaning, and certainly not while trying to process the horror of his threats. “You mean…the gas? Sarin?”
“Yeah.” Krauss’s voice was quiet. “Last day of term. I’ve it all worked out to the last detail, who’ll die and who’ll survive. I’ve been workin’ on this for the past year. You stay at home that day, keep your sister and your Dad’s little girlfriend at home, and you’ll all be okay. You open your mouth before then or after, and trust me it’s your family will pay before you do, Prior. You even act like you know anything’s up, and your family will pay before you do.”
The time in which it had taken to change Evan Prior’s life forever was probably only five minutes, but it felt like five hours. Break bell rang, and both boys fell silent as the rowdy sound of students re-entering the school building reached their ears.
“But, why?” Evan was dazed. “Why are you doing this? You, your family, you own most of the town…”
“My family.” Krauss’s eyes were empty. For a second Evan recaptured an image of Mr and Mrs Krauss at the last PTA. Donny was clearly an after-thought, both parents were in their sixties. He recalled that Mrs Krauss was rumoured to be sickly and reclusive, though he realised now that this could well have been a mechanism to avoid her youngest son. “Forget my family, Prior,” Krauss rasped. “Take care of your own family.”
At that moment the rest of their class poured into the room, followed by their teacher. Several of his classmates glanced at Evan during the remainder of that day. “You okay?” one of two murmured. He had nodded, muttering about a bug he had caught from his Dad. Except for Krauss’s threat about appearing normal, he would have made an excuse and left the school premises. As it was, he had to endure the day with the realisation that somehow he had not only to get through the next ten days, but that he must act as if everything was normal.
It was not possible. And yet it had to be done. Because if he put a foot wrong, the threats made by his classmate would without doubt come true. Maybe not all of them. But one was enough. More than enough. Several hours passed before Evan was able to grasp in full the notion that Donny Krauss intended to use sarin gas to kill or maim as many as possible of his schoolmates at Wyattsbrook High. His reasons for doing this presumably made sense to him. They were not relevant, Evan knew. What was relevant was the intention and capacity to carry it out.
Luckily for Evan’s sanity the following day was a Saturday, and he had no need to keep up
the crazy façade. But home was not a whole heap easier. During the day Haven and Joely were working together in the yard and preparing a family meal, occupations Evan would normally have joined. He claimed a sick stomach and spent the day in his room, planning to hide out there until he could come up with some kind of plan, anything, to deal with what was happening.
From his window he watched Joely and Haven as they planted and watered, Haven chatting and gesturing unselfconsciously, Joely working away with a smile on her face. His little sister was turning into a beauty, Evan realised. All the looks from their mother’s side had gone to her, and that had always been okay with him. And she was not so little any more. He could see traces of new small breasts beneath her t-shirt. She’ll never be the same again. He ground his teeth with anguish as he recalled Donny Krauss’s words.
And at that moment Evan knew with no hint of doubt that regardless of anything else, if that animal ever laid a hand on Haven he would kill him without qualm or regret. This realisation, insinuating itself into his mind so surely, so unquestioningly, shocked Evan on one level – he doubted he’d ever entertained a violent thought before this, at least not seriously. And watching the calm practical movements of the newest member of their family, for that was how Evan saw Joely Waits, he figured the same might well apply to her. Maybe for her too he was capable of killing.
“You okay, son?”
Evan turned to find his father at the bedroom door, an anxious expression on his face. “Dad. You’re home early.”
“Just dropped in, Marty’s looking after things. Joely called, said you weren’t too good.”
“It’s nothing,” Evan shrugged. “Just feelin’ a bit pukey, must be the hot dogs I ate after school yesterday.”
His father studied him, maybe sensing something askew. The worry on his face deepened. “Anything wrong, Ev? At school? Or anywhere?”
“Relax, Dad.” Evan smiled and hoped it did not look like a grimace. “You know me, I can spot trouble a mile off and dive into the undergrowth.”
This expression was an old joke between them, and his father smiled as Evan had hoped.
“Okay, then. Well, get into bed and rest, or I’ll chase you down to the yard to help the girls.”
By staying rooted to his bed, Evan managed to hold his family at bay for the remainder of that day. It was later into a sleepless night that another thought entered his mind, so horrifying and devious that he dismissed it out of hand. Only it would not go away.
There was an antidote to Sarin gas. He had read all about it that fateful night. If Donny Krauss wanted not only to survive but to remove any possibility of suspicion, he could arm himself with the antidote and be at school when the gas escaped. But guess who would not be at school that day? Evan Prior, that was who, the other class loner and Net freak. Along with his sister, and prospective stepmother, he would be all safe and snug at home.
All moisture disappeared from Evan’s mouth as this possibility implanted itself in his mind. No one would believe it, he thought. Why not, murmured a voice in his mind. And even if they did believe you were innocent, what would happen when they realised that you knew, and said nothing. That you could have saved everyone. And you didn’t?
As Evan’s head felt in imminent danger of implosion, he heard footsteps on the stairs. Instantly he turned on his side and pulled his quilt up.
“Hey.” Joely’s voice was soft. “You asleep?” Evan did not answer, and after a moment he heard the door shut quietly.
It was on the Sunday, when he was despairing of finding any answers that a blindingly obvious solution popped full blown into Evan’s mind. Dozens, more likely hundreds, of lives would be saved, including those he held most dear, by one simple action on his part. All he needed to do was to kill Donny Krauss.
With this realisation a strange calm descended on Evan, maybe the calm of complete exhaustion, and he managed to join the family for Sunday supper. The others were in relaxed form, and their easy chatter helped him get through the evening.
That calm was history by Monday, as one by one the harsh realities intruded on Evan’s consciousness. How would he do it? And before that – could he actually do it, when the moment came? What would he use? A gun? A knife? His bare hands? And how could he get that maniac on his own? How to avoid discovery? Was there anyway he could make it look like an accident? Did he really have until the last day of term – maybe Krauss had lied and wanted the Prior family at the school, rather than use Evan as his scapegoat. There was nothing he could be certain of.
Maybe a gun was the surest method, so long as it was not traceable, and no one witnessed the act. No matter what the circumstances, he was not entirely sure that he could use a knife on a human body. And even if he were a fighter dirty enough to kill someone with his bare hands, the fact was that Donny Krauss was bigger and beefier than he, and presumably just as highly motivated.
And in fact Evan had access to a gun. As an eighteen-year old draftee, his Dad had been in one of the final platoons sent to Vietnam in the seventies, and he had smuggled home a fully loaded handgun taken from a slain Vietcong. Evan knew where it was hidden in the attic, had known since he was ten years old. More than likely, thirty years on, it was beyond use. He knew you were supposed to oil guns. But maybe he could read up on cleaning and oiling, and try it out in Marshall’s Wood. He could certainly do that. And for sure the gun would be untraceable.
Over the days that followed Evan retrieved the gun. Then, following precise instructions from various sites on the Net, his access to which he then deleted so that it could never be detected, he readied it for use as best he could. In the midst of this his outward life was as near normal as he could make it, and no one at home or at school appeared to notice anything amiss.
The test, when he tried the gun in the nearby woods, seemed to prove the quality of both Vietcong military technology and the accuracy of How-To sites on the net. When the first bullet left the chamber and entered the tree he had aimed at, Evan was a mass of new and conflicting emotions, not least being pride in his preparatory work, and in his aim. There were nine bullets left in the chamber. Assuming he could actually carry this out – and he knew that there was no choice – he had no idea yet at what range he would be shooting. So he fired three more at different targets and at different distances, and each time felt satisfied that, unknown to himself, he had a steady hand and an accurate eye. Of course, these targets were not made of human flesh and blood and bone, but he did not allow himself to dwell on this thought.
End of Spring semester fell on a Friday. In case of any double talk on the part of Donny Krauss, Evan decided that his plan must be put into operation no later than the Tuesday prior to that. He picked the time and place based on the only detail of Krauss’s life he was aware of - that he drove to school each morning from his home in Van Elsen, near the southern boundary of the town. This meant that he had to travel by the county road, which was little used any more, particularly early in the day. Evan’s plan was to be there from 8am, and to have his bicycle upturned as if fixing a puncture. While Donny Krauss would have no interest in helping him, he would surely stop, however briefly. And that would be the moment.
Again and again Evan visualised himself lifting the freshly oiled gun from behind his bicycle, aiming it at that murderous maniac, and pulling the trigger. He would not hang around of course. He had practiced how long it would take to hide the gun, up end his bike and be gone. Fifteen seconds was his best time, but he reckoned that would be enough.
Tuesday morning began inauspiciously.
“Evan, wake up sleepyhead! C’mon, Evan!”
It was not until his little sister jumped on top of him that Evan finally came to. He peered groggily at her exquisite face, unable to focus as she bent to rub noses with him. “Hey,” he grumbled. “Get off me.”
“Dad’s downstairs already, saying what’s gotten into that boy,” Haven said cheerfully.
This woke Evan fully. “Okay, okay, I’m up,” he said. “Just get off me.” When Haven had skipped from his room, Evan stared at his radio clock. 7.30am. “Shit,” he said as he stumbled out of bed.
Five minutes later his father looked askance as, un-showered, Evan grabbed a cereal bar and his school satchel, and was gone with a muttered goodbye. What the hell was he doing, oversleeping on what was probably the most important day of his life? He would be lucky if a) he made the county road in time and b) his father didn’t decide to stop by the school to check on him. Of course, if he made a), then b) might not be too worrying.
By 8.05am Evan was on the county road, bike upturned, looking totally pre-occupied with his damaged tyre. In fact he was sweating profusely, experiencing a sense of total unreality. This could not be happening. He could not be here planning to carry out an early morning execution, for no other word applied, on a crazy seventeen year old creep, even if that same creep was himself planning mass murder.
Ten minutes passed. This enabled Evan to calm down a little and to remind himself of precisely why he was in this surreal and insane situation. He was breathing deeply, and talking himself through the events of the past ten days when he spotted a familiar SUV in the distance. He went rigid. For the tenth time he checked where he had placed the handgun. Lifting a puncture plaster he examined it, apparently unaware of the approaching vehicle. When the SUV braked to a halt a moment later, Evan glanced up as if disturbed from his preoccupation.
Donny Krauss’s obsidian eyes looked at him with deep suspicion. “The fuck you doin’ here, Prior? This ain’t your beat.”
Evan looked at him. He took in the full details of the monster’s face. Broad Slavic cheekbones, pitted skin, narrow colourless eyes. Empty eyes. Or maybe not. Empty maybe of normal human empathy, but also full of venom, loathing, sadism, cunning, self preservation. As if in slow motion he bent to reach for the gun. Krauss’s eyes widened as he took in what Evan was doing. He seemed momentarily unable to move.
Evan lifted the gun and aimed it at his enemy. His finger touched the trigger. He watched Krauss’s mesmerised expression of terror. He pictured Haven and Joely planting spring flowers in the yard, his father locked into Prior’s Fine Leather Goods as it took fire. He remembered the bloodied images from the sarin website. A moment passed. Then two. And his finger pressed no further on the trigger. Panic surged through him as he realised that he could not do this, and as it did he saw this recognition register on Donny Krauss.
What happened next took place as if in a parallel universe, as if that same universe was determined that Evan Prior would never forget a single instant. As Donny Krauss realised his apparent last moment reprieve, he turned his ignition key and began to edge beyond reach of Evan’s paralysed vision. At that moment, somewhere in his consciousness, Evan registered a surprised but cheery greeting that resounded through the still morning air.
Maybe, as he headed out for a little morning fun, Lyle Rossiter was so pleased to see his friend Evan a couple of miles earlier than expected, that he failed to register the moving SUV. Or maybe he caught a glimpse of Evan’s face or what he held in his hand. Either way, he swerved suddenly. As the jeep made to avoid him, Lyle seemed to lose his nerve and swerved again as if to straighten up. This caused Krauss to over-compensate and it seemed to Evan that Krauss hit the gas rather than braking, for he appeared to pick up speed, reaching maybe 50mph as he smashed into a massive oak.
For several seconds all that could be heard was the echo of the collision. Then to Evan’s horror the car seemed to explode. Lyle Rossiter screamed and disappeared into the trees on the opposite side of the road. Evan unhooked himself from his terror and moved towards the burning car. Circling, he saw Donny Krauss’s slumped figure embracing the steering wheel, but not yet ablaze. Without thinking, Evan wrenched open the door, grateful in some peripheral corner of his mind that it had not jammed on impact, and dragged the unconscious body clear. Several yards away he collapsed to the ground, slipping sideways to avoid landing on Krauss. He clasped his hands and arms above his head as the jeep exploded, feeling the shock waves pass above him.
Evan had no idea how much time passed before the ringing in his ears eased and he could hear sounds nearby. He forced his eyes open.
“Fuckin’ retard. Fuckin’ retard. What the fuck was he doing here?”
Donny Krauss was coming to, the obscenities that poured from his mouth clearly audible. Evan scrambled to his feet. The first thing his eyes lighted on was the gleam of oiled metal from his gun, which he must have thrown ahead as he dragged Donny Krauss clear of the flames.
“Prior.” The word sounded like a growl. Evan turned and looked at Krauss who was now on his knees. A red light shone from his eyes, or maybe it was a reflection of the nearby flames. “You got your chance, Prior. I gave you that when what I shouldda done was kill you. Now you’ve shown yourself for the chicken shit you are, and you and your precious family gonna pay the price. Yeah, you’re all gonna pay. And then I’ll have Friday to look forward to, Sarin Day…”
Almost curiously Evan listened to the slurred venomous words. Certainly he did not pause to consider if there was any traffic approaching from either direction. If he thought about Lyle Rossiter at all it was with the calm certainty that his friend’s traumatised brain would surely obliterate all memory of this morning’s events. He moved slowly toward the trusty thirty-year old hand gun, once issued to a boy probably not much older than he was right now, in a jungle more than ten thousand miles away. He lifted it and looked at it. He need not have worried about range. Donny Krauss was no more than ten feet away as Evan aimed and pulled the trigger. It took thirty seconds for him to make his getaway, but that was okay, he had not calculated on being two hundred yards away from his upturned bicycle.