Over the Darkened Landscape - By Derryl Murphy Page 0,38
said Mike.
Danny did so, and about halfway down he felt something hard and cylindrical. He pulled it out and held it up to the light: a finger-length glass vial with a black stopper on top, dark green liquid inside.
“Holy shit,” said Mike. It was barely a whisper. “Anything else?”
Danny pulled back some more cotton, and then very carefully removed a small syringe. “Drop it back in,” said Mike. He pulled out a larger evidence bag, and Danny slid the whole box inside.
“Is this the real thing?” asked Danny. His eyes were wide.
“Looks like Slow,” said Mike, standing up. “If it is, maybe we have a motive for the murders. I have to get back to the other side of the Line now. I’ve been over here too long, and there’s going to be plenty of work to do if this is what we think it is.”
Danny stood with him, lit another smoke. “You know,” said Mike, pointing at the cigarette, “That stuff’ll stunt your growth.”
“Har har,” replied Danny, sticking out his tongue. “Mr. Funny himself has returned.”
Mike took a bow, turned towards the stairs.
“We miss you, y’know.”
He stopped, didn’t turn around.
“I remember when I first noticed that you weren’t going to stay a kid forever, when you started to age. I felt real cheated that day.”
Mike turned back to face him. “It wasn’t my fault.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” said Danny, trying unsuccessfully to blow a smoke ring. He’d always thought smoking made him look cool, and Mike had never had the heart to tell him how wrong he was. “You chased that one bad guy pretty close to the Line that one time I remember. I still wonder if that had anything to do with it wearing off.”
Mike shrugged, looked down at the floor. “It just happens sometimes. I’m not the first kid to all of a sudden grow up.”
“No, but it’s the first time it happened to a friend of mine. It’s hard to see you grown up like this, knowing that you’re living in another world and you’re never going to be able to play or run, to be like a kid ever again.” Danny wiped a tear from his eye. “And now you come in here for this stupid murder, you’re going to get even older! All this time, being stolen away from you . . .” His voice trailed off.
He didn’t need to be reminded of any of this. After a long moment, Mike finally lifted his head. “I can’t stay any longer, Danny. Are you giving me a ride back to the Line, or am I going to walk?”
“Jesus.” Danny stubbed out his smoke on the heel of his shoe and then brushed past Mike, heading down the stairs before he could say anything else.
After arranging for the body to be sent back across the Line and collecting everything he thought he needed for the investigation, Mike squeezed back into the car and rode in silence. As he was climbing out, Danny reached over and put a hand on his arm. Mike didn’t look back, just sat there, looking at the fuzzy outline of figures on the other side.
“Try to remember to have fun sometimes, okay?”
Mike shook his head, trying to pretend there were no tears fighting their way up and out. “Doesn’t work that way once you grow up, Danny. You know as well as I do.” He stood up and shut the door, still looking across the Line.
Danny gunned the noisy motor, yelled, “I don’t ever wanna know that, Mike. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope I don’t see you again.” Car belching black and blue smoke and roaring like a walrus on a motorcycle, he spun around and drove off, leaving Mike to cross the Line on his own.
He still had the gum in his mouth, he realized. Old habit from when he used to live as a kid. It was as tasty as cardboard now, so with two last open-mouthed chews he spit it onto the road, and then stepped across the Line.
It hit him harder coming back, the weight of new years bearing down on him not only from above, but from around and inside of him. Any spring in his step he may have felt before was definitely lost now, and for only the second time in his life—the first being when the growth spurt had told him he would no longer be a kid—his bones were aching. He practically staggered out of the fog onto the