missing marks -- grim maxwell

[swing]

The second phone call to the only blood relation that he knew of was made albeit reluctantly--out of earshot of any of the Singers. Numbers were punched as he sighed heavily into the ringing connection that turned slightly static as he walked off of the porch. He shielded his eyes and grumbled obscenities as the phone finally connected.

"Is that any way to talk to your family?"

"Hello to you too."

"Did you have something to say to me Graham, or are you just wasting my minutes?"

"Why are you such..." He stopped himself from making the comment and started over. "Yes, you're coming for Christmas."

"I am."

"We're having it in Switzerland."

"SWITZERLAND?!!"

The shriek turned into a metallic screech as he held the phone away from his ear and waited for the eruption to subside before the phone was angled back toward his face.

"Are you quite finished?"

"I don't see why we have to freeze just because you have cold blood."

"We wanted a--"

"Wait...Did you just say, 'we'?"

There was a pause followed by a melodic lilt of laughter. Grim bit his tongue to keep from sending harsh words to her, because he had promised to make this a good holiday.

"I did."

"Well...I don't know what to say, Graham."

"You could start by not speaking at all."

Silence.

"Ana, there is one more thing I have to ask of you."

"I'm not going to be your best man, Graham."

"No. This is different."

"Spit it out already."

"Do you have Anika's contact information?"

"...Why?"

---

The answering machine to David's mobile kicked on by the time Grim had finished speaking to his cousin.

"David, it's Grim. I've booked a flight to India after holiday. Call Anika and tell her to schedule a meeting with the doctor. The following is her information..."

<font color="#000000" size="1">[ March 18, 2005 10:06 PM: Message edited by: secondhand bruises ]</font>

[swing]

Switzerland is nothing like India. I almost miss the sand and the heat, if only because the crowded masses of people didn?t have names to me. Cruel, I know, but true. The situation of having Julia?s family mixing with the remnants of my own is slightly worrisome. I walk on eggshells because I promised her that this would be a good time. Rather, I promised her that I wouldn?t say anything to insult anyone or have an all out brawl because this whole thing was done for Kate?s benefit.

Kate.

What a replica of her mother she?s turned into. I have to laugh whenever they have an argument because it serves Julia right to have a taste of her own medicine. Kate stands out now, where she wanted to blend in. In some ways this gathering does remind me a bit of a Nazi regime?if only for the Aryan display of pale eyes and pale hair.

I?m really trying not to think about what is going to happen when we are finished here. I attribute the sick feeling in my stomach to the wave of memories that Julia?s gift produces rather than the alternative. David should be coming within the next week, so I just have to wait this out. Until then, it will all be attributed to the change in altitude and gifts.

I tried to avoid looking at it for some time. The dancers still hold the same warmth that they did in Nonna?s apartment, but it still feels strange that they are now considered my possession. I look at the way their lithe bodies are poised and think of nothing by the way that my sister looked. Alana. Her name is something I haven?t said aloud in nearly twenty-two years. It isn?t that I can?t, it?s that I refuse to.

If one part of myself leaks, the entire framework will crumble. I can?t have that. Not now. Not when we?re all so close?.

[swing]

There was no convoy, no tactical team that took the house under siege with gunfire and broken doors. Instead, there was a singular fumbling man in a long wool coat with a scarf wrapped underneath his cap like some impoverished refugee post-world war two. Early. Nearly a week early, but he was still late according to the anxious face that was ticked towards red-rimmed eyes as he waited. David?s visit was cold and lonely, where Grim (much like his moniker) would have picked him up from the airport and rattled off rules of procedure, he remained in the house surrounded by pale eyed relations.

Grim shot glances at the sullen woman who had found something to busy herself with, then to Kate who was reading through magazines that Ana had provided, who upon inspection had mysteriously disappeared with Paul, who he prayed wasn?t wearing something in a color that was named after a frozen treat. The elder Singers were in their respective places, humming conversation between almost all sides while Grim watched the door for an escape. The last glance at his watch was jolted by a knock at the door which caused a near collision as Grim fought off Kate to open the door. In the end, David bowled them both over in an attempt to get warm. Bags were set down carefully due to their fragile contents as he rubbed his arms.

?Sorry I?m late! I ha?? Upon cold vision clearing, he noted the sets of eyes that stared at him like some distorted version of the Brady Bunch. At this moment, he relived a scene from a horror movie where the cabin fever crazed residents cannibalized the newest entrant, but the thought was quickly shaken. ?Had a lay over.?

?That?s quite all right, listen, I?ll show you to your room and then you can come out and meet everyone.?
?B-but why? I?m??

The glare and slightly harsh jostle of his shoulder told David that he should listen to Grim first. Nodding, David picked back up his bags and offered a wide smile to everyone before he was disappearing down the hallway to the room that he had been thrown into ? Grim?s.

?I should be flattered, shouldn?t I? Sharing your room with me and all.?

?David?? Grim took in a deep breath and forced a thin smile. ?I have a complication, not a handicap.?

?Right, right! Sooorry chief.? David held up his hands once his things had been settled down and rolled eyes. ?So, you look good. Very tan, bet Julia loves that eh??

When David shot out an elbow to nudge Grim, fingers caught it and sent his arm upward at a harsh angle causing David to yelp.

?Jesus! You are testy. ?

?You?re not here because you have jokes.? Grim shot him a look.

?Whoa, holy shit?Did you, just.. say what I think you said??

Grim just shot him a glare as David wiped an imaginary tear from his face.

?My little Grimmy, all grown up.?

?Come out and meet the family, we?ll discuss the arrangements after dinner.?

?About that?? David held up a finger and stumbled after Grim as his coat was shed. ?We?ve got a problem.?

?We?ll talk about it later, here comes Kate.?

[swing]

Tracks were made in snow ? blackened figures like ink smears trailed along the white landscape of Switzerland. Soon these traveling smudges became one in the form of a mercury glossed car. Bags were sent through customs, passports checked, tickets exchanged ? everything followed a clinical routine. Airport travel was a routine operation carried out by mechanical motions but Grim felt gears and wires slowly stopping their spin to break off and fall away. He was decaying slowly with each step, turning to ash ? dissipating.

Metal wings cut through the air quietly as the altitude changed. While the ears of some popped, Grim?s pressure adjustment came in the scarlet ribbon trailing from his nose. Dots like candle wax stained the tray, slow at first but by the time he had pulled a Kleenex from his pocket, a pool had settled on the gray plastic. Eyes were half-lidded while a hand waved off David?s nervous questioning. Soon they would be in the States. Soon they would meet with the doctor. Soon. Soon?

The hours had stretched Grim into his deteriorated state and as they pulled into a landing, feverish eyes widened as vessels began to burst. Stiffening limbs had David worried, but the continual slow slur of words kept him seated. His mind was set adrift in the loss of consciousness as his skin turned pale but flashing lights and savior sirens awaited them as soon as the plane made its final lurch into landing gear.
Let off first, they were both escorted out to where the brightened box awaited with oxygen masks and professionals who spoke too coherently for the choppy speech of David to make any sense. Wheels rolled into the hospital, and the stretcher was pulled as Grim watched the sky change from light to dark to light again ? the stale smell of bleach lifted into him and he felt his spine curve as hands struggled to hold him onto the stretcher.

Blackness was a deep and tranquil sea. Too much time spent under the waves took the possibility of resurfacing farther away. Mechanical humming was the first thing he heard through filtered ears and while he wanted to pull eyes open, the light above them was too intensified. He waited until he was pulled out of the pressure chamber and shifted onto another bed before the cracks in his eyelids widened ? alone behind a curtain he saw the machinery wired into his arm and eyes struggled to close again as he turned his head to the side.

Through the slant of the door David made exaggerated gestures while the doctor shook his head and pointed to a chart. David?s shoulders slumped and he nodded before the doctor left him, sending him into a slow pace outside of the door. Grim?s mouth opened to call out but he couldn?t feel his tongue move against the roof of his mouth, or hear the sound of his voice in his own ears. The door felt shut and he was left with the deafening sound of silence.

David threw off his coat and left it to puddle on the floor as a hand tugged on his ear in silent chastising. His phone was flipped open as feet started to shuffle towards the doors, breaking them open with a palm he punched in numbers and waited. Snow had piled up here and his breath made pockets of frost as he counted off the rings like heartbeats. No answer. Again, the numbers were punched and breath was held in as if he was stealing it from the other end of the line. No answer. Again.

They were both losing time ? numbers were rerouted to a static-filled line that he wasn?t allowed to use. Instead of the other end picking up, he received the voicemail box and he didn?t expect otherwise. The woman had been left in a fit of rage.

?Julia, it?s David. Listen.. I.. I need to kn-know if you..Grim?s? Can you get a hold of an Alexai Vermeil? I don?t.. I don?t know who else to call.?

[swing]

part I

The hospital room had become a sepulcher ? dark and medicinally coated like dark earth, though the continual blip of machinery kept the appearance of sallow skin unnatural chartreuse. Sweat slicked and heavy lidded, Grim succumbed to the drip drop of morphine as sheets were adjusted by faceless hands ? brought up like funeral linens on his last day. Everyone seemed intent on burying him alive. Voices warped and became unrecognizable as the slow draw of sedation forced eyelids closed.

Red. Green. Blue. Yellow. The colors spun at an alarming rate until one by one, they branched out like arachnid limbs ? forced onto the metal of a merry-go-round. Alana swung from the blue railing like a ship?s flag ? blonde hair brushed over the jacket of the man spinning her, as her mouth drew open in a wide laugh. The sound, however, came after when blue eyes were sharp on his own. Again, the hand of the man rested on the red rail of the merry-go-round and spun it, causing Alana?s face to disappear. Grim reached out a hand to find its proportions considerably smaller, as fingers stretched farther they were snatched up in the firm grasp of someone else.

Little Boy Blue,
Come blow your horn,
The sheep's in the meadow,
The cow's in the corn.
Where is the little boy
That tends the sheep?
He's under the haystack,
Fast asleep.

Kiajara?s voice rang in his ears as she spun him in circles. Dark hair covered her face as she suddenly began to run away from her sister who was still spinning. Grim tried to pull his hand from her, but she was too strong and as Kiajara ran into the grass, he watched what looked like leaves rise back toward branches. Butterflies. Hundreds of them, beat wings in a pattern all too familiar ? shining like red droplets in the sun. They had stopped running, Kiajara was taking the hand of the man who had been pushing his sister ? the one with a symbol marked deep in the webbing of his thumb and index. At first it was hard to make out, but it became increasingly clear.

Grim woke with a start, gasping for air as his thumb frantically pressed the call button ? it only took a second to realize that there wasn?t a call button at all. As eyes adjusted to the poorly lit room, he realized exactly where he was. Wrists made an attempt to lift from his sides, but the metal clamor of chained cuffs assaulted his ears.

?Good morning, Graham.?

Eyes turned to watch the addresser ? a white stretch of coat and a metal clipboard were the only things visible to him. Grim opened his mouth to speak but found that his tongue could do little more than roll around in his mouth. The laughter warbled soon after, leaking out like the sound of a moving train. Eyes closed and when they re-opened he was passing florescent light fixtures at an alarming speed. Turning his head to the side, he expected to see an orderly?s form but found his brother wrapped in his mother and father?s arms ? immobile as the train?s window passed them by. He was in the train. Eyes turned back to watch the lights passing overhead ? making him dizzy until the screeching of a metal hull derailing broke the sound of the train. He felt himself being pulled apart, stretched into a thousand pieces.

?You are completely relaxed. Count back from ten.?

?Ten..?

Each number lifted from his mouth cause his spine to curve off of the table they had attached him to. Eyes went wide as the wires of lashes hooked into the pale skin of his eye sockets ? holding them open. Latex covered hands like milk, adjusted the electrodes pressed to his temple and shoved a bit into his mouth. By the time he reached a muffled one, he was drooling over the paisley print that they had put over his body. The hands again removed the bit ? the hand with mark now had his imprints, coated in the syrup of blood where teeth had broken into the skin.

?Very good, Graham. Welcome back to the land of the living.?

[swing]

part II

David was curled in the cushy hospital chair that was provided in the dark room ? feet pulled up, with arms hooked around his knees. He slept soundly despite the mechanical commotion that was next to him where Grim lay completely silent. It had bothered David at first, the lack of commotion or noise in Grim?s REM cycles, but under heavy sedation, he didn?t figure that the same rules applied. The only motion that had happened in hours were Grim?s fingers twitching slightly like spider?s legs that had been detached and still thought they could walk on their own. Chapped lips fell apart as if breath had finally started behind them before eyelids cracked themselves open despite the saline barrier.

Grim awoke to the belly of Saturn ? cables and wires suspended in a ghoulish light that, coupled with the antiseptic smell, brought him toward realization. He was in the hospital, connected to a machine that watched his heart make mountains and valleys. Where it would had increased, Grim paced himself by keeping breath shallow. There was no need for alarm, at least, not yet.

His jaw unhinged as if rusted, no sound came from his mouth as a lead tongue struggled to form syllables. Again mouth opened and shut, snapping teeth once. The sound was hollow and rang through his ears, but it wasn?t enough to wake David, who simply shifted further into the wool of his coat. Grim repeated the motion, working his jaw like the chamber of a revolver that had no bullet to give as a warning shot. Panic rushed into his veins in place of adrenaline, forcing Grim?s heart rate to alter in a mountain range of louder beeping ? the sound was David?s alarm clock, forcing eyes wide with sleep.

David stretched and yawned, a characteristic that caused Grim to roll glassy eyes as fingers fanned out in a cyclic movement, pinky to thumb, thumb to pinky. Moving the wrist would come with more effort, but he only wanted David?s attention. Again his mouth opened to hiss breath loud enough to catch David?s eye and force him immediately rigid in the chair.

?G-Grim?? His voice was nervous as fingers dug into the armrests.

Grim hissed again in response, louder this time as wrists were bent to pry hands from their prison of hospital linen.

?Grim!? David?s voice dropped to a whisper as if there were people listening in. ?Do you need a doctor? What is it??

Grim?s tongue clucked once, a response he had been trying to produce for what seemed like an eternity.

?What is that?? David?s whisper turned shrill as he leaned forward in the chair, but never fully rose. He knew better than to get too close. ?What, Grim? What is it??

The response was faint, a dimly lit mouth formed the word that he could not speak. Grim?s functions had been turned off at needlepoint ? immobilized by medicine that was supposed to be saving his life. He saw nothing beyond the blurry edges of an illuminated hallway. His mouth moved in the formation of the word again before choppy movements lifted his hand in a wave. David, against his better judgement, lifted from the chair and crept over toward him with eyes widening.

?What is it? Gr-Grim, hey come on man. Y?scarin? me here.?

David?s nervous speech went ignored as Grim swallowed harshly in an attempt to be heard. The word was mouthed as his tongue pulled from the roof of his mouth silently, David bent closer to him ? a desperate move that yielded the desired result however.

?Pen.?

Grim?s voice seemed to come from his throat, the way a ventriloquist manipulated the masses into thinking that the wooden creation spoke without being prompted. David pulled away confused and looked toward the window as it was shadowed by passing medical personnel.

?Pen? Wh-what about it? D-do you want me to get you one? I ca??

His words were cut short as he tried to backpedal away from the bed. Grim caught the fabric of his coat as frail fingers suddenly became his only anchor, holding onto the only thing in the room that was familiar.

?Okay! Okay! Here, take it!? David was surprised at the amount of strength (perhaps his own nervosa had imagined it) Grim still had left and offered the pen out to him.

Grim?s fingers took the pen in a grasp meant to choke the life out of something ? the plastic utensil was his only life line, despite the machines around him. It alone had the ability to write out the key to solving this entire puzzle. The pen was scratched along linen until David pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and set it underneath the pen. Slowly, crude letters were printed out in the dull lighting -- Grim couldn?t see the paper any way, blind eyes slid back under heavy lids until the pen stopped moving. The only things he had managed were the words:

??????? ???
Julia.

?Grim?? David?s voice called timidly because under all pretenses, the man seemed to have fallen asleep.

Slowly, David reached for the pen until Grim?s body curved its spine from the mattress as the machine monitoring his heart flat lined. It only took a second before Grim?s body began to seize and David pulled the paper from its place before running toward the door. The hallway was broken into a fever pitched scream.

?I need a doctor! Anyone! I need a doctor!?

[swing]

part III

?Do you know who I am??

Eyes opened slowly at the sound of the man?s voice ? glasses like twin mercury plates were the only remarkable thing about the stoic man?s facial features. His eyes rolled away toward the tray nearest to him. Syringes lay in a rainbow of colors ? an array of anti-psychotics and suppressants, an array of experimentation. His veins had become a test subject for the man with the gruff voice. Latex fingers picked up a syringe, but he didn?t keep his eyes open long enough to see the color.

A flashbulb went off and he was gasping for air on a steel table ? shoulder blades crashed against the unyielding surface as white coats held him down. Wide eyes watched another syringe be taken off a similar tray, only this time it was empty. They were harvesting now and soon he would be a number among the rows of other children who were strapped into beds and branded with electrodes to monitor their behaviorism.

The wheels on the gurney screeched and rattled against the tiled flooring as if it were uneven. With his eyes closed, he could tell when he had reached the end of the hallway and started into another. The lights turned into windows that under the duress of unconsciousness he could watch the day pass by through the grates. Slate skies were cut jagged by the unfurling of black trees with leafed branches that always seemed to be blown by a hurricane ? he liked to think that someone had taken the time to paint each and every individual leaf because the scenery never changed.

The plastic of the medical bracelet cut into pale skin ? a red raw mark that would stick out memory, no matter how many times he tried to hide it. Silence was a figmentary notion, waves of breath became the dull roar of the human sea that the bodies created in rows. Each one being taken back to the man with a disease for every healthy boy or girl, and a cure within reach.

?Tell me what you see.?

The man never asked for anything until after he had injected a dosage of truth into Grim?s veins. Violet lids crashed over pale eyes and lashes made a deafening sound ? like hundreds of birds taking flight all at once as they tangled together. His breathing became a roaring wind and his heartbeat cracked open land with its thunderous beating. It was the only time he was allowed off of the gurney, settled uncomfortably on hard leather that was kept together with tiny gilded buttons ? it was meant to look expensive, but the smell of decay sunk too deep into his lungs.

He lied. Mouth opened and rattled off imagery he had seen on his way toward the room he had been locked into, but as the pulsing of blood and drug made it through his heart valves he felt compelled to speak the truth. His brother was standing underneath the dark tree holding onto his hat, dressed in an officer?s uniform. His mouth opened to say something, but everything burned away like a photograph over a flame. Small hands reached out to grab hold of the corners, but it was already too late.

[swing]

part IV

Through the cracks in his eyelids, Grim watched the slowed motion of limbs reach for his body before eyes rolled back in their sockets. Instead of seeing some white light, he was asphyxiating in a warm kind of dark. Voices surrounded him in a monstrous slur of words that never quite made it into coherent sentences. He rattled and shook against the bed, pulling tubing and wires with him as hands struggled to keep him still and keep him from swallowing his tongue.

Paddles were being charged as the heart monitor continued to display a flat line ? David didn?t realize what was happening until the doctor yelled for the count. It was almost as if he were watching Victor holding the lightning rod that shocked the dead back to fully functional life. As he tried to break through the small crowd of people, the paddles had already been compressed against Grim?s chest. A convulsion of life sparked on the machine before the doctor called for the count again. David, against his better judgement, lunged through the door that had been left open.

The chaos outside the waking world had little to do with what was swimming in Grim?s suffocating mind. Shocked again, this time he split eyelids open to watch white light filter through spidery veins of retinas as the heart monitor finally sparked a slow pulse. Tiny mountains were rising up along the screen as the ventilator took over breathing for choking lungs.

Movements had been predicted before acted upon ? David?s valiant efforts to restrain the code blue had him reeling away from the building, shoved out by taupe uniforms. A phone was fumbled out of his pocket as trembling fingers punched in the correct number after the seventh or eighth try.

[swing]

part V

Snow littered the ground like shifting sand -- they had stood in institutional rows for nearly six hours with bare feet firmly planted on dusted concrete. Rows of half-lidded eyes and rawboned children only changed direction when the word was uttered. The command changed and he felt himself running through a tangled web of spidery tree branches that cut through his skin and tore patches of his clothing to hang like victory flags. There was a sound -- a crack of thunder and the overpowering brilliance of white.

"Do you know who I am?

The voice echoed behind mirror plated glasses -- in this white lab coat, with a mouth stitched thin, the man looked more mad scientist than savior. He was seated comfortably in the metal chair across from the boy's crumpled frame -- purple and black from exposure to extreme cold. The boy's chapped lips cracked open to speak but nothing followed, his tongue was lead, his head was heavy and he collapsed.

"When was the first time you fired a gun?"

"I haven't."

"What was the name of the boy that you shot this morning?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Like a clap of thunder, he saw the image of his sister with the back of her skull still smoking. The familiar scent of copper was soaking into his lungs and his eyes shut to block out the image. As soon as lashes had tangled together, he felt himself shocked back to life -- gasping for air as if his first breath was his last. He could hear the heavy scratching of ink on paper as pens moved in the observation room. Even with his eyes closed, Grim was a perfect shot.

[swing]

part VI

"We're going to let you go now, you won't remember this when you wake up. But, you will come back to us."

For nearly three weeks before, he had been sprawled on his stomach with the intricate nervous system of his spine exposed under halogen lamps as surgeons bent themselves over, poking and prodding along the spinal cord until they produced a desired reaction. The scars were designed and perfected to resemble those of scoliosis procedures exactly. Their design, of course, was flawless thanks to one man who daubed at his brow between pulling tendons and tissue out of his way. Completely immobilized, it was hard to imagine the damage this little boy had done in maturing into a modernized machine. The last components to his transformation came in two small chips, which were butterfly stitched between nerves for optimum efficiency.

The procedure was clean. The healing was clean. The experiment had been a complete success.

"Your scar is from corrective surgery. You attended a formalized institution to receive your education but the name is irrelevant. You've blocked it because of your family's fatality."

The first of the children, a girl, had been a failure. Her bones were too fragile and her mind was too weak. Epilepsy had been a side-effect, one they had tried to eliminate, but ultimately their attempt failed. He had taken care with this one, not to ruin it spirit but merely alter. They had been so careful in developing the new techniques that the new design was nearly flawless. He was the seven hundred and forty-second, but he was the selected recipient of the new technology. Microchips that served as mobile tracking devices as well as ledgers. A living, breathing machine.

The boy had always been favored -- his lack of communication and antisocial behavior in their first observations had been why he was selected. The rest had fallen into place. He didn't ask for specifics on what fell into place, he merely doled out the medications and treatments so that the boy would eventually wind up in his care.

He was going to change the world, simply by mechanizing it. The future was planted firmly along the boy's spinal column. They only had to wait and see what would become of him.