The hardest part about a job like this was convincing all the other people on the train that he was dead like them. If he could do that, the rest would be pretty well according to the book. Well, Crook’s book, at least.

Crook discouraged conversation by treating this just like any old commuter rail: get through the turnstile with the coin he’d lifted off Dom Undertow, avoid eye contact, pop his ratty coat’s collar, and look pissed as hell. Because the last thing he needed was to be swarmed by shades thinking they could use him to get back.

There was a kid there, shooting him scared looks, because of course there was, but Crook couldn’t worry about that right now. There was another kid on his mind.

The train slowed, and an announcer called the exit. Several of the newly-departed looked around, unsure whether they should follow Crook out, but the doors closed before any got past the fact that “Braintree” didn’t sound like the eternal reward or punishment they were promised.

Outside the station, there was the big plant, just as disgusting as he’d heard. Sections of the gargantuan cerebellum supported in gnarled branches of wood and wire lit up as a voice shook his teeth. “Charlie Crook. You’re early, but I’m glad of it. I’ve waited so long to get the secrets out of your head.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” he said, burying his hands in his pockets. “No deposit today. Just a withdrawal.”

“What memory do you seek, Edgewalker?”

“Little girl called Kelcey Chu. Need her last few minutes. Family wants to make sure her killer doesn’t do what he did to her to anyone else.”

“A trade is required,” intoned the Braintree. “A memory of murder. The identity of your sister’s killer, perhaps?”

Crook smirked, producing a glass ball from his pocket. “How about the Hopscotch Killer’s face?”

“He was never seen.”

“Wasn’t he?”

The brain paused. “This would be acceptable.”

Stray vines of nerve reached out to pluck the orb from his hand and wrap themselves around Crook’s head.

“This will not be pleasant,” warned the Braintree.

“Nothing in this line of work is,” Crook said. “Hit me.”

x

Year 1, Day 133

August 14, 2014

Charlie Crook appears in many stories. Here are two more. For your trouble.

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When There’s Something Wrong With Grandaddy

“Another beer, Annie,” Grandaddy said, holding his empty bottle out with his left while his right lay limp in the cast on his lap.

She slipped around his wheelchair, careful not to get between him and the TV, and headed to dispose of the bottles crowding the windowsill, too. But there were bottles of several kinds – beer, pill, and others she couldn’t rightly identify. What doctor would come all the way out here? “You sure you’re supposed to be drinking on all this medication?” she asked.

“Think you know everything?” he shouted. “Think you can tell me what to do?”

Annie should have been happy a knock at the door ended that conversation, knowing who was on the other side. But he would start a worse one. At least he was pretty. Even if he did have to wear that old, ratty coat.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said, leaning forward. She turned so he kissed her cheek.

“Grandaddy, this is Charlie,” she said. “My boyfriend.”

The old man pumped his left hand on its wheel, spinning to face the door. His eyes twitched along with his casted hand. “Boy, you better get off my property before I shoot you where you stand.”

The man in the door smiled, his teeth bright, as he walked in and slid Annie behind him. “Can’t we be more civil than that?” He reached out with his left to shake while his right jingled something in his pocket.

Grandaddy spat on the outstretched hand. “Won’t allow no miscegenation.”

“We’re all adults here. We make our own choices,” Charlie said, sniffing the saliva.

“Yours won’t help you walk again, though.” He seized the cast, and something hissed inside. He smashed it on the arm of the wheelchair as Annie yelled, “Charlie, no!” It was too late. Out burst the serpent head at the end of Grandaddy’s arm, spitting venom in angry arcs.

Charlie’s right hand came out of his pocket pulling a sword with it, and he lopped the old man’s arm off.

“Why does this stuff keep happening around you?” Annie screamed.

“Just lucky, I guess,” Charlie answered and watched with fascination as two infant serpent heads grew from Grandaddy’s shoulder.

x

Year 2, Day 42

May 16, 2015

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RE: Finis Ad Infinitum

The end was over. It was difficult not to be optimistic under every possible circumstance. Charlie Crook had spent all his time living up to the best and worst suggestions of his name. Now he didn’t know how he was supposed to spend time, because – no matter whether you could say his coffers had never been fuller or the pockets of his ratty coat couldn’t get more empty – he didn’t have anyone to pay. To spend, you have to have someone to spend to, and all the most important person in the world wanted to do was share.

“You know you’re beautiful,” Charlie told her, unsure that he should be touching her at all but unwilling to risk ever letting her go.

“You know you’re supposed to compliment something people can control, right?” she said, rolling her eyes over her smile and doing nothing to disprove him.

Something profound and memorable could have come out of his mouth about loving – and wanting – her imperfections as much as the parts of herself – outside and in – that she worked so hard to perfect. He hoped she understood when all he could say was, “I am.”

Her exasperation was beautiful, too. “Is that what you brought me out here to say?”

“What I came out here to do was complain.” Charlie flexed his fingers but couldn’t get his knuckles to crack. “I didn’t know if everything I had done measured up to anything important.”

“Isn’t where you are important?” she asked. She was right, but when had that ever been enough to convince anyone?

“I’ve just always wanted to know that part of me will be out there – surviving – forever.” He plucked an eyelash and held it to dangle above the drain of cosmic matter eternally coriolising overhead.

“Oh, come on,” she said. “You’ll have forever to be everywhere. Be here now.”

She was everything to him. And not just because they were alone together on the silvered side of the universal mirror. Wherever he went, part of her would go – survive – with him. If he couldn’t help but be everywhere at once, he might as well be in good company. So Charlie Crook said, honestly, “All right.”

x

Year 10, Day 364

March 29, 2024