The Last Handful of Clover - Book 2: Gifts Both Light and Dark

2.35 Night Terrors

June 14, 1:03 am

Howard did not bother to pray that Justin wouldn't return and assault him again. He knew that his coming was inevitable. So instead, he'd prayed that when the boy appeared he would be alert and awake enough to fight him. He prayed the bastard would come in the light of day, not in the dark like some vandal. But as midnight and then 1:00 am passed, he knew he had asked too much of God.

The lights in the cell block were kept too low at night to allow the prisoners to do anything but sleep—but high enough to allow the guards to look into each cell as they did their hourly rounds. Howard's cell was murky with a pale yellow glow from the weak lights in the hallway's ceiling, which cut through the bars of the cell and left thin black striations across the floor and the cot upon which he lay. The effect was gloomy and depressing, and he kept thinking he saw movement in every inky shadow.

He tried to sleep, but how could he when he knew that at any moment Justin could appear, eager to have him? He stared at the bars, watching for movement, and strained his ears, trying to catch any sound out of the ordinary.

And that was when he heard the shuffling sound of feet in the hall.

The quality of it was somehow different from that of the guards, and the sound ran through him like an electric shock. Although he couldn't remember seeing the ghost's feet, he knew he was hearing Justin's red high-topped Converse sneakers against the concrete floor.

And then Justin was at the bars, staring in at Howard in the gloom. He didn't know if the ghost could tell that he was awake. But he could see the thing's eyes clearly, and the malevolent hatred and lust in them made him shiver in his cot. Still, he forced himself to look. He made himself study it. This was his first opportunity to actually see the thing's face, and it surprised him just how young it was. No, how young he was. Justin must have been only a year or two younger than himself.

At least, he was when he died. But how long ago was that?

He could see the Levi jacket in the dim yellow light, as well as Justin's dark brown hair, which was a bit shaggy and looked almost black in this light. His eyes burned in his head like two red coals. And now, as he watched, the ghost was melting through the bars. Howard thought of that scene in Terminator 2, where the silver terminator, disguised as the policeman, just pressed his face through the bars as if they were hot knives and his body was made of butter.

Without a word, Justin crossed to the boy's bunk.

When Howard sat up and his face came into the light, Justin jumped back as if he was the one that had seen a ghost.

"Hello Justin," Howard said. "And fuck you, Justin. Get out. You're done with me."

Howard was surprised to find that he was still capable of delight, even through his terror. He knew the look on Justin's face would be one he would long treasure. For that moment, at least, he had the upper hand with this thing.

Justin's jaw worked for a moment, as if he was trying to remember how to speak. Finally, he tipped his head to one side in a gesture that seemed almost canine. And then he said something that Howard did not understand. He knew he should remember it, because it must be important.

"So the Fifth Gift is real!" Justin said, his expression hovering somewhere between shock and fear. "You can actually see me! This must be why God didn't want me to have you more than once. I guess I've made you a medium!"

So I'm not supposed to be able to see him? Any of them? Howard thought. Why is it that I can?

"I'm not afraid of you any more, you psychotic son of a bitch," Howard said, trying to keep his fear from showing on his face. "Maybe it's you that needs to be afraid of me now."