Rain Of Stone (The Merryweather Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  Once the caskets were in the ground, people began to shuffle past, some giving him hugs, some just patting him on the shoulder. They shook his uncle’s hand as they passed, most looking intimidated by the big dark man as they slipped away. Mike and his other friends waited until everyone had gone by before coming up. Brandon stepped away from his uncle and Lawyer Dagget, walking toward the parked cars with his friends.

  Mike said. “So what happens now, man? I suppose you have to go live with one of your relatives?”

  “My uncle.” Brandon said, stuffing his hands into his pockets and turning to his friends. They all came in Mike’s car, a bright blue Dodge Neon that was parked further away from the rest of the cars. Near the grave site, Brandon could see his uncle and lawyer Dagget talking to his aunt and her husband. His mother’s sister was a small bird-like woman. She had no children of her own and Brandon had half expected that he would go live with her. But Lawyer Dagget told him that his father was very specific in his will. He was to live with his uncle until his 18th birthday.

  Mike shook his head. Chad, one of his other friends, said. “Matheson, Oklahoma, eh? That’s going to be fun.”

  Brandon nodded. “Yeah. It’s a small town.” Lawyer Dagget was motioning for Brandon to come over, so he said to his friends. “Look, I’ve got to go.”

  Mike said. “We’re all going to hang out at my house tonight, man. Do you think you can make it?” Brandon said. “Shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll have to clear it with my uncle.” Mike nodded. He and the other guys loaded up in the car and left. Brandon turned as they were pulling away. His aunt and her husband met him as he was crossing the soggy graveyard. He didn’t know why, but the ground always felt spongy and not quite solid in graveyards, as if to make it easier for the zombies to get out when the time came to devour the living.

  His aunt gave him a warm hug. Her head only reached his collarbone and her arm couldn’t quite reach around his waist. She was a tiny woman. Smaller than his mom. She looked up at him and said. “Are you okay, honey?”

  Brandon smiled at her. “I’m okay, Aunt Katie. How are you holding up?”

  Katie laughed, her eyes red from crying during the service. “You’re as strong as your father, you know? Worrying about others, when it’s you that everyone else is worried about.” Her husband, John, gave his shoulder a squeeze. John was a dentist and looked the part. He had a thick beard and round jowls. He looked like a grizzly bear. Brandon couldn’t imagine John and his aunt in bed. The image was just too surreal. Katie said. “Your uncle seems like an interesting man. This is actually the first time I’ve met him.”

  “Don’t feel too bad.” Brandon said, smiling. “This is only the second time I’ve met him.”

  Katie said. “How do you feel about going to live with him in Oklahoma? Are you nervous about it, at all?”

  Brandon shrugged. “A little, I guess. I’m going to miss my friends. And I’m going to miss you and Uncle John.”

  Katie smiled, giving him another hug. “We’re going to miss you too, sweetheart. I was talking to your uncle and he indicated that visits wouldn’t be out of the question, as long as school permitted. So you can always come back and see us if you get too homesick.”

  “I’ll do that, Aunt Katie. I better go. Lawyer Dagget looks like he wants to talk to me.” Brandon said, giving Katie another hug. He shook John’s hand and left them standing there, watching him as he walked away.

  Lawyer Dagget and Gerrick were talking to the pastor when Brandon walked up to them. The pastor turned as Brandon came up. He gave Brandon a pat on the shoulder and leaned close. “Your parents, they are in Heaven, Brandon. You can take comfort in that. As well as in God.”

  Brandon didn’t say anything. He didn’t even know the pastor’s name. He felt a sudden urge to turn on the man. To shout in his face. To shut him up. He felt like hitting the man. Like knocking him on his sanctimonious ass. It was misdirected, he knew, but so much anger boiled just under the surface that he felt he was being crushed by it. And then the pastor was gone, leaving Brandon alone with his uncle and Lawyer Dagget.

  Lawyer Dagget said. “I’ve been talking to your uncle, Brandon. About your future. In two years, you’ll be eighteen and you’ll receive the first part of your inheritance. We talked about this the other night, but your uncle had some thoughts on the matter that I think may have merit.”

  “Like what?” Brandon said, looking from Dagget to his uncle. Gerrick looked down at him, his mirrored sunglasses winking as sunlight broke through the mass of clouds filling the horizon. They were white now, instead of gray. That was something, at least.

  Gerrick said. “You’ll be going to school, of course. But I also think that I should prepare you for your life after school. Once you’re over eighteen, you’ll have a substantial fortune at your disposal. You need to be ready for that sort of responsibility.”

  “And you’re going to teach me to be rich?” Brandon said, looking up at the big man with a frown. “No.” Gerrick said, not smiling. “I’m going to teach you to take care of yourself. Money has nothing to do with that.”

  Lawyer Dagget stepped in, saying. “What your uncle proposes is that during the next two years, he’ll help you to become completely self sufficient. Of course, I’ll always be around if you need advice or any kind of help. As will your uncle. We just want to make sure that you’re ready to stand on your own two feet, when the time comes.”

  “It sounds like I’m going to boot camp.” Brandon said, looking at the two men.

  Lawyer Dagget smiled, reassuringly, and shook his head. “This is going to be harder than you think, Brandon. But, in the end, I believe that it’s for the best.”

  Gerrick met Brandon’s gaze and studied him, sizing him up. Brandon couldn’t get over how big the man was. If it was going to be like boot camp, he was beginning to think he was going to have one hell of a drill instructor.

  After the talk by the grave side, Lawyer Dagget left Brandon with his uncle, promising that he would come see him before he left for Oklahoma. Gerrick looked at Brandon for a long moment, seeming a little unsure of where to go from there. Brandon said. “I’m a little hungry, uncle Gerrick. How about we go somewhere and eat?”

  Gerrick nodded, saying nothing, and led the way to his rental car. The inside of the Mercedes smelled like stale cigarette smoke and cheap air freshener. They went to a drive-in on Roosevelt, only a few blocks from the bone yard. Gerrick drove like he thought they were being followed. He took random turns that he didn’t have to take and backtracked for blocks at a time. He almost seemed to pick the Dick’s Drive-In on a whim, though Brandon was the one who told him about it. Gerrick turned the engine off and looked at him. The sunglasses were off his eyes were black shards of obsidian. When Gerrick spoke, his voice was soft, as soft as an anvil draped with silk. “You do not have to call me uncle. Gerrick will suffice.” “Do you always talk like that?” Brandon said, blinking at the man. “Like a character from an old movie?”

  The big man grunted. “What exactly do you mean?”

  “You’re diction. It seems a little stilted. Almost like English isn’t your native language.” Brandon looked away from his uncle, at one of the carhops as she passed. He knew her. Her name was Sophie. She went to his school and was in his English class. She was pretty in a pop star kind of way and had a cute butt. He spoke again, without thinking. “You talk like you learned English from old movies.”

  Gerrick did that thing with his mouth that might have been a smile. He reminded Brandon of that old actor, George C. Scott, as if smiling hurt his face. His father made him watch PATTON at least once a year, whether he wanted to or not, so he got an appreciation for old blood and guts. Gerrick smiled and said. “You’re as smart as your father boasted.”

  Brandon said. “Is that a good thing?”

  Gerrick nodded. “It makes my job easier.”

  “And what, exactly, is your job? We talked about it a little, there at my parent’s graves, but I wasn’t
really listening all that well.” Brandon looked at the dark skinned man. “You’re supposed to teach me how to what? Drive a car? Balance my checkbook?”

  “Your anger is being misdirected, Brandon.” Gerrick said. “I’m not your enemy.”

  “So, what, am I supposed to just let go? Not be angry?” Brandon said, his voice rising. “Well, excuse me, Uncle Gerrick, but I don’t think you know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Gerrick laughed. It was a strange sound, coming from such a hard looking man. He looked at Brandon’s face and laughed again. Brandon was about to ask him what was so fucking funny, when Gerrick said. “You are more like your father than you will ever know, Brandon.”

  “Go to hell.” Brandon looked at Gerrick. “Is this how you’re going to teach me to take care of myself? Laughing at me?”

  Gerrick’s smile turned mean. “No boy. This is how I’m going to teach you to be a man. I didn’t say that your anger was wrong. I said it was misdirected. You’re acting out of turn with me because you’re upset that your parents are dead. I didn’t kill them.”

  “No.” Brandon said, looking out his window at the sky above. “The rain killed them.”

  “Why would you say that?” Gerrick said, his voice odd.

  Brandon didn’t answer. Instead, he said. “Let’s just get our food. Okay?”

  “Sometimes it rains for a reason.” Gerrick said, reaching out to hit the call button. He looked over at Brandon. “You just need to find that reason.”

  Brandon was going to ask his uncle what he meant, but Gerrick raised a hand to silence him. A car pulled around them, sliding into the parking slot beside them. Gerrick watched the car, his face expressionless. He watched and waited until the other driver placed their order, before relaxing and putting in their own. Brandon had a cheeseburger and fries. Gerrick had water.

  Brandon said, eating some fries. “You’re kind of paranoid, you know? The way you watch everything, like you expect some freak to come charging out of nowhere, waving a machine gun or something?”

  “I’m just cautious.” Gerrick said, sipping water. “Being aware of your surroundings can save your life.”

  “What sort of books do you write anyway?” Brandon asked. He shook his head and slurped his coke. “I didn’t even know you were a writer.”

  Gerrick said. “You don’t know me at all.” It was said not unkindly. “That was something your father wanted.”

  “He didn’t want me to know his own brother?” Brandon asked around a mouthful of cheeseburger. “That doesn’t make much sense.” “Of course not.” Gerrick said, the almost smile twitching the corner of his mouth. “Nothing your father did made much sense to me, Brandon. That was part of why we didn’t get along.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There are things that you don’t know about your father that he tried to run away from, to hide from.” Gerrick said.“That was why he left Matheson. That was also why he didn’t want me anywhere near his family.”

  Brandon asked. “Because he was hiding? What was he hiding from?”

  Gerrick shrugged. “His past mostly, he didn’t tell you anything about your family, did he? About your grandfather?” Gerrick watched him from the corner of his eye, as if gauging his reaction.

  “No.” Brandon said, feeling a tiny worm of curiosity beginning to wiggle in his middle. “He was pretty quiet about his family, my family.”

  Gerrick nodded. “I expected as much.” He took a drink of water. “What did he tell you about me?”

  “Nothing, really.” Brandon said. “Just that you and he were different and that you stayed in Oklahoma to look after the family home, while he went to college in California.”

  Gerrick nodded. “I stayed at Highgarden while he went off to make his mark. He went to college, where he met your mother, and they moved to Washington together. Not long after, they married. Then you came along. Your father published his first novel when you were three years old.”

  “You’re a writer, too. What do you write, horror novels, like my dad?” Brandon found the idea that this giant of a man was a writer to be fantastic. Gerrick looked more like a super hero than a Stephen King. He looked like someone that stories were written about, not the one doing the writing. Brandon looked over and asked. “Do you write fantasy? I think my father’s next book was going to be a fantasy novel? Like THE LORD OF THE RINGS?”

  Gerrick looked at him for a long silent moment, his face a mask cut from granite. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “I thought your father only wrote mystery and horror novels? What sort of fantasy was he working on?”

  Brandon shrugged. “It was just some stuff he left out once. He got pretty mad when he saw that I read it. But I didn’t read much. It was in first person, like his other books, and read like some sort of journal. A lot of swords and monsters, and some stuff about “The Coming darkness” and “The Reclaimer”, really grim stuff.” Brandon ate a fry and looked at his uncle. He went on. “Dad let me read his other books while he wrote them, so it was weird when he freaked on me for reading that stuff.” Brandon drank his soda. He glanced at the rearview mirror, at the rain falling behind them. “I don’t know, I guess he was embarrassed. It wasn’t really all that finished. More like notes, than a real book.”

  Gerrick snorted something that might have been a laugh. “I bet he was pretty mad.” He reached over and filched some of Brandon’s leftover fries. “But, no, I don’t write fantasy. I write manuals.”

  “Manuals?”

  Gerrick nodded. “Training manuals, for video games, mostly, I’ve done some work for the Idiot’s Guide people, as well.”

  “What sort of video games?” Brandon asked, suddenly interested. “Playstation? X-Box?”

  “Both, actually.” He took a drink, meeting Brandon’s eyes. “I’m glad you’re taking all of this so well, Brandon. It shows your strength.”

  “All of what?” Brandon asked, confused. But then it hit him, like a splash of icy cold water in the face. His parents were dead, dead and buried. He was talking about his dad and his dads writing, as if he was still alive, and he would get to read his stories again. The pain clenched his middle like a fist, crushing his chest and making it impossible to breathe. He thought of his mother and the way her smile looked in the morning, the sunlight winking through her hair. Another wave of pain cascaded over him and he blinked the world suddenly a blur as the tears came. Finally, throughout the last few days, he was unable to cry. His water works had gone dry, even as the mud was shoved over into his parent’s graves. But now the tears came, a flood of them.

  Gerrick watched the boy break down, his young shoulders shaking with the force of it, and felt something akin to love. It was a strange feeling for Gerrick, who knew only loyalty and strict routine. He reached out and put a hard hand on the boy’s shoulder, his face softening imperceptibly. “Life goes on, Brandon. Whatever you may feel now, your mother and father wouldn’t want you to brood on their passing. You know that. Whatever happens in this world and in the next, you’ll be fine.”

  Brandon swiped at his eyes with a napkin and looked at his uncle. “Then why do I feel like I’m dead, too, like I should be in the ground with my mom and dad?”

  “Because your parents are gone, Bran, and you don’t want to leave them.” Gerrick’s voice was like stone, hard and unyielding. His eyes were hard, as well. “And, other than myself, you are completely alone in the world.”

  Chapter 2

  It took a week for Brandon to shuck the skin of his former life. His uncle hired a crew of movers to pack and move all of his things. The furniture and his parent’s things were wrapped up and stored at a place in Seattle. Brandon packed all of his personal stuff, his clothes and his books, while the movers handled the big stuff. All of his things would be moved to Highgarden, the Merryweather ancestral home in Matheson. Gerrick told Brandon that the home and the land it sat on had belonged to the Merryweather family for hundreds of years. A living trust decreed that the property would always
belong to a Merryweather, passing from father to son. Being the oldest by less than a year, Stephen had been the true heir, making Brandon the master of Highgarden, but only after he turned 18. Until then, Gerrick was Highgarden’s steward, and Brandon’s guardian.

  “Who set up this trust?” Brandon asked, curious about anything in his father’s past. Gerrick looked at him, face expressionless.

  “Your great great grandfather.” And that was all he said on that matter.

  The only place the movers weren’t allowed to go was Brandon’s dad’s office, in the attic of the house. Gerrick packed everything in there, himself. He wouldn’t let Brandon help, saying that the memories might be too rough on him. He promised that, someday soon, he would let Brandon see his father’s unfinished work.

  Brandon spent that last week with his friends, practically living over at Mike’s house. They played video games, watched movies, cruised town in Mike’s Neon, the ground effects lit and the speakers thumping. They just acted as if everything was normal and that Brandon wasn’t moving at the end of the week. But the knowledge of his soon departure for lands unknown was always there, lurking behind them like a monster in the dark.

  Brandon spent his last day in Seattle with his friends, hanging out at a little burger joint. They sat at a corner booth, eating fries and trying not to think about it being Brandon’s last night there.

  Chad was saying. “Why Oklahoma, I mean, what are you guys going to do, farm potatoes or something?”

  “Marijuana is more likely.” Mike said, laughing. “My brother says that if he could move anywhere other than California, it would be Oklahoma. He says there are more drugs in Leflore County than in all of Seattle.”

  Chad and Brandon just laughed. It was true that Mike’s older brother was one of the biggest potheads that either boy knew. But Leflore County? Mike read their expressions, perfectly. “No, really, he said the place was even on the cover of High Times, once. Of course, that was before they legalized it here.”