Date: Fri, 28 Sep 2007 15:26:23 -0700 (PDT) From: Matt Wess Subject: Double E: Part Twelve "Oh, my god!" I gasped as a flash of heat and debris roared through the air. I turned away from my window and crouched down to shield myself as the oven like shock waves from the explosion whipped upwards. A loose flying piece of debris rocketed through the air and crashed through my window. Glass rained down on me as I covered my head with my arms. I let out an anguish bellow as I felt the debris slice my shoulder open. Warm blood oozed down my arm, staining my shirt. I stared in disbelief at the small, sharp fragment of the P.T. Cruiser landed a few feet away from me. My cut was throbbing. Pain shot through my body as I staggered to my feet, trembling. The house was alive. My parents were thundering down the stairs. I clutched my bleeding shoulder and burst out of my room heading for the bathroom. The wound was a lot worst than I imagined. A huge gash ran the length of my shoulder. Blood continue to seep all the way down my arm and dripped off my fingers. I swayed on the spot, tore open the medicine cabinet, tossing out bottles of pills, looking for the medical tape. "Elijah!" someone was shouting. A pair of feet came tearing up the stairs. "Elijah!" It was my mother. She was looking in my room. I slumped against the sink. "I'm in here!" I called out in a surprisingly strong tone. In the next millisecond my mother was in the bathroom, running towards me. Her arms were supporting me. "My God, Elijah. We have to get you to a hospital!" Too faint to argue, I wobbled down the stairs using her as a support. By the time we reached the foyer, sirens could be heard. Squad cars, ambulances, and fire trucks were rocketing down the street. We walked out into the cold night. The rest of my family as well as the neighbors were outside watching the roaring fire with bewilderment. Everything was thrown into an awful silence. I remember seeing Detective Booker making his way across the lawn with medics. Then a blue Sunfire pulled up behind the squad cars - Carrie. She was running across the yard towards me. Her hair as red as the raging flames. She was saying something and reaching out for me as I slipped through my mother's grasp and collapsed on the cold ground. I lay in an apathetic state and, straining to move my head, stared without recognition at the pale blue walls of the hospital room. When I stopped looking at the wall I lay back down to sleep, and awoke after violent yet unrememberable dreams to see the concern face of Carrie, hovering above my vision. I knew it was no use fighting against the cold weight of my nameless malady, or asking how it came about. "How are you feeling?" Carrie asked, still looking down at me. I blinked a few times against the light. I heard the rattle of carts being pushed around the corridors, doctors talking, nurses over the intercom. The window was open and I was shocked to see that it was light outside. "What time is it?" I grumbled, trying to sit up, but a searing pain shot through my shoulder immobilizing me. Carrie jumped at the opportunity to help me. "It's almost noon," she said, adjusting my pillows. "Noon!" I exclaimed, shocked at how long I was out of it. "Shouldn't you be at school?" Carrie waved a dismissive hand. "Nothing was planned for today, anyway. Your parents were with you all last night. I don't think there was ever the chance that you would..." "Die," I finished her sentence. She cringed. "Yes, what you said. But they still stuck around. I took over in the daylight. You gave us quite a scare." "I gave myself quite a scare," I said, running my hand across my face, feeling the sweat. I allowed my head to fall back on the pillow, exhaling audibly. "Elijah," Carrie said slowly, reclaiming her seat next to the bed. "I know you just woke up and all and you should be taking it easy, but do you know who did this?" Without moving my head, my eyes looked over in her general direction. "Rocky Katz," I said grimly. "He called me two seconds before it happened." Carrie nodded. "That would have been my guess, too. The police - oh, I don't Elijah - the police are being close minded like you said from the beginning." I sat up this time, ignoring the lightning bolts of pain. "Why, who do they think did it?" I asked angrily. She bit her lip and said softly, "Eliot..." "Why would Eliot blow up his own car!" I shouted. A passing nurse poked her head in; I waved a hand indicating everything was okay. "My guess would be that they think Eliot is trying to destroy evidence," Carrie explained hastily. "I know, I know - it sounds insane! I heard my mom talking to that Detective Booker. Oh man - is he a winner," she added sarcastically. "But Eliot was taken in for severe questioning. My mom doesn't think he did it - but the ultimately the Chief Medical Examiner's opinion doesn't really matter." "They know about the deaths of Georgina's parents," I said, relaxing. "They probably think Eliot did that mess, found discriminating evidence in the car so he blew it up. But Jesus, there are more sane ways of getting rid of cars - like leaving it in the woods or something." "I know that - you know that. Try telling it to Detective Booker." "Wasn't Rocky even taken into consideration?" "No - you're the only one who would pin him to this. And you haven't really been awake long enough to interrogate. I'm sure they'll be around eventually." And so Carrie turned out to be right. She left a little after three in the afternoon after having played eighteen games of "Go Fish" and eating nasty cafeteria food with me. My parents stopped in several times throughout the day bringing more edible food. When Detective Booker came around I had most of my strength back and was ready to ditch the hospital, but on doctors orders I sat around for a couple more hours. I could now actually sit up easily without wincing - much. Despite the fact that I wanted to toss Detective Booker out of the window for being a close minded bastard, I still noted how good looking he was. Probably one of the few good looking detectives on the force: a strong build, nice smile, sparkling eyes, and a personality that I wanted to squash with fists of furry. "Elijah Temime," he said smiling, walking around the foot of the bed. I glared at him as he took the seat Carrie sat in an hour ago. "How are you doing?" "Cut the crap - why are you pinning all of this on my brother?" Detective Booker continued to smile. "Elijah, do you have any alternatives?" "Try Rocky Katz, you small, close minded idiot." Booker gave a few weird short laughs. "May I remind you that you are speaking with an officer and not to someone your age?" I folded my arms. "Could have fooled me," I said stiffly. "Face it - you're no Sherlock Holmes." "And you're no trophy kid." He paused to flip open his notepad. "Now why should I trust your word that Rocky Katz blew the car?" I kept my mouth sealed and looked the other way. Detective Booker gave out an exasperated sigh. "Okay - don't tell me." He leaned forward and said in a whisper, "But don't expect Ms. Fisher to be very happy with you. She's always willing to help out the authorities." Realization dawned on me. I snapped my head around. "You were the third guy with Eliot and Ms. Fisher," I said incredulously. Images of that scene popped into my mind. My blood began to pulse I recalled Eliot and Detective Booker in their underwear... "Oh, very good, Elijah. Might I add that your brother looks awfully good without clothes on." It was my turn to laugh. "Boy did you make a mistake telling me your little secret. Something tells me once I get out of bed you won't be on the force much longer." He was still smiling, which was getting on my nerves. "Then you won't be in school much longer either after they figure out your little time spent with Ms. Fisher. She tells me everything, Elijah. Something you need to learn to do right now. If you cooperate - I can give you photos of Eliot." "Fuck you." Detective Booker rose to his feet. I tried extremely hard not to be attracted to him. For the most part, it worked. "Have it your way," he said, about to leave the room. "I have a feeling we'll be seeing each other shortly." Still obnoxiously smiling, he left the room. I returned home that day shortly after noon. Every once in awhile a stabbing pain would strike my body, but for the most part I was doing pretty good. My parent's were losing their minds. The phone was ringing off the hook - usually the reporters were calling to milk information from us. Eventually my father yanked the phone cord from the phone wall. It didn't help that much. Reporters still hung around our house, doing newscast about a car that exploded right here in Jamestown. No one could remember such excitement since Lucille Ball returned for a visit. Later in the night my parents left to join Eliot at the police station. I was slowly falling out of the Double E loop. My notes hadn't been updated for several days. Eliot was becoming a smaller part of me every day and I still had no earthly clue who killed Georgina Cloves. Maybe I was being close minded. I was passing my parents room, on the way up to my room, when I noticed my grandmother sitting on my parent's bed. Postcards were all around her. Hundreds of them. All the ones she thought she had sent out to her deceased friends. I pushed the already ajar door open the rest of the way. She looked up and I sensed remorse in her eyes. She had a few cuts, bruises, and burns from the explosion. Sitting in her flower night gown she looked - for the first time ever - sane and alone. Her smile faltered as she attempted to brandish one of the postcards. "They're not around, are they Elijah? All these people I sent postcards to - they're not around." I gently moved some of the postcards and sat down next to her. "I think I knew that they were gone - in the back of my mind. This is what happens when you get old. You lose friends and family. The last thing you say to someone could very well be the last thing. Seeing all these names I addressed on the postcard I wonder - what was the last thing I said to them? And I pray that it was something worthwhile." There was a small silence. Her frail, wrinkled hands went through each and every post card. I noticed each one ended with "Love Always." "Life is filled with too many adventures to fit on one postcard," she continued, smiling. "But if you are writing one and you find that you are running out of room - then that must mean you're leading a pretty damn good life." I looked at the postcards strewn around us. Every single one had a large paragraph crammed on the back. The further the paragraph progressed the smaller the handwriting became - indicating that she was running out of room. Even later that night I ran out and bought a postcard. Returning to my room back home, I sat down at my desk under my eaves and began writing the Double E story. I got halfway through when I reached the end of the postcard. I leaned back in my chair and actually smiled. In fact I began to laugh. Everything in the past week was so ridiculous, so absurd that I was having trouble believing it myself: Murder, sex, violence, crazy bastards stalking Carrie and I. "Goodbye Double E!" I shouted, tossing the postcard and pen in the air. Outside I could hear the sound of crunching gravel. My parents were home with Eliot. I jumped out of my chair and raced downstairs. There were a few things I wanted to say to Eliot. In fact, I was looking forward to talking with him. I was going to set things straight once and for all. But when the front door opened my parents were alone. "Where's Eliot?" I questioned, shoving my hands in my jeans pocket. "Your brother," my mother said slowly, shrugging off her coat. "Is awaiting the bail money." I think my jaw hit the ground. "What?" I said incredulously. "He pleaded guilty - Lijh, I really don't feel like talking right now." My parents swept pass me, leaving me open jaw in the foyer. How could Eliot? I think reality hit me at that moment - Eliot was not the murderer. But I knew who it was. I grabbed my jacket. And headed off to finish this - once and for all.