Excerpt from novel SHARDS OF SUMMER by Kelly Jameson
jamesonkHope you enjoy this excerpt from SHARDS OF SUMMER, which author Ken Bruen calls "The Great Gatsby for the beach generation." Available at amazon.com. Thank you.
Phelps, A Ghost, a Tattoo,
and the Shakespeare Shakes
August 4, 1945
Phelps sat with his back to the door of the room when Dante knocked. He’d been staring out the window at the same tree for an hour. Other soldiers missing limbs sat in wheelchairs, some played checkers or cards, some slept with their heads on their chests, some talked quietly.
Down the hall came the sound of GIs playing ping pong. Tap tap tap tap. Phelps ignored it all. He saw something. He knew he did. A shadow, a shade. Something unnatural. Half of the blackout paint had been scraped off the window but no one seemed to care. No one came to paint it over. Flecks and scrapes of shadows peeled off all around him.
He swiveled the wheelchair around. Creak of steel aperture, hinges, wheels. Creak of man who thinks maybe he’s a lost cause now. Creak of sea and motion outside windows.
“My God, Phelpie,” Dante said. “How you doin’?”
“Chief! I’ve had better days. Have a seat.”
Dante sat.
“You know they couldn’t save my leg. I survived the fuckin’ jungles to come back here and lose one of my goddamn legs.”
“What happened?” Dante asked. “I mean, I know they brought you here to Atlantic City because they thought the doctors here could help you…they are the best…but that day, what happened?”
Phelps closed his eyes, opened them. “Don’t pity me, OK? That’s the last thing I need.”
“Alright, you sonuvabitch, when are you gonna walk again? We can’t have you off the case for too long.”
Phelps squeezed his eyes shut again, smiled. A single tear rolled down his cheek. “I knew I could count on you to be a bastard.” He fished in the pocket of his hospital-issue robe for a cigarette. “Light?”
“Sure.” Dante retrieved a Zippo and lit it.
Phelps exhaled slowly. “I don’t know what happened. I went to the morgue. I saw things. Unnatural things.”
Dante was silent.
“Next thing I knew, I was running for my life. Smack into a barrel-back Chrysler T&C.”
“Jesus Phelps. You know you’ll always have a place on the squad.”
Phelps grimaced. He looked around then lowered his voice. “He’s found me.”
“Who’s found you?”
“You know who and what I’m talking about. He’s closer to me here, where death occurs. He always appears where death has occurred. I saw him at the morgue too.”
“Phelps, you’re not making sense.”
“It’s him…the Japanese soldier I killed. Over there. At first, he was only a shadow, something I thought I saw darting behind me. A wisp of smoke. His form is growing stronger. He’s one of those…those aswang. He came back with me. He’s associated his dead spirit with me. He flies.”
“Phelps, I don’t believe in ghosts. You’ve had a shock. You need rest, that’s all. And you were defending children, a village.”
“I saw him beneath that tree out there. He was just standing there, in his uniform, his body a dark outline. His face was pale, haggard, his hair white and loose and falling around his head and skinny shoulders. He was holding a bayonet. I saw the boy too…Alipio. Right before I got hit by the car. He told me he was cold. They both blame me. They’re waiting for me to…die. Then….”
“Listen Phelps…you’re tired. You need rest. You’ll feel a little better tomorrow, and then a little better the next day. You know, you weren’t sleeping a whole lot before the accident…that can make your mind play tricks on you.”
“I didn’t expect you to believe me.” He sucked on his cigarette, blew rings above his head. Fish-fever-jungle-glands-Shakespeare-shakes-and-stands-floor-of-the-sea-no-denying-it-pull-in-his-gut. He’s a shell, twisted pieces of calcium. He feels a thousand broken shells bristle and poke against him from far away. We are water and salt, salt and water.
He crushed his cigarette out in an ashtray on a table next to the window, shoved the sleeve of his robe up. “How do you explain this?”
Dante stared.
“I didn’t have this before the accident. When I woke up, there it was. I asked the doctor about it. He didn’t remember seeing a tattoo on my arm during the operation.”
Black lines. The fluttering technique unique to Japan. Inscrutable ink. Crude outline of a spider….
“I can’t explain it. I think he put it there. An inch of skin changed forever. It captures a moment for all eternity. There is no going back, no changing things. No erasing your mistakes. That’s what he’s telling me.”
“Phelps, maybe you got it before the accident. Maybe you just don’t remember. It was a pretty nasty accident.”
“I’m telling you, it wasn’t there. And don’t you think it looks like that fuckin’ Nip Akihito’s tattoo? Almost exactly like it? How do you explain that?”
The two sat in silence.
“I think he’s responsible for the cutting,” Phelps said. “I think he’s making the killer do things and then he’s cutting the bodies.”
“Jesus, Phelps. You’re talking about a ghost cutting up dead bodies. You hit your head pretty damn hard….”
“You think I wouldn’t remember getting a tattoo? It fuckin’ hurts!” Phelps started to scream at him in Japanese. He had tears in his eyes and his nose bled. The other men stopped what they were doing. “Leave him alone,” one grunted. Soon, they were all yelling at Dante, like it was his fault.
Dante called for the nurse.
“I’m telling you, I’m seeing them. Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!”
Dante called for the nurse again. A thought thumped in his veins slow and thick…Phelps…is…AWOL…Phelps…is…AWOL. He couldn’t push away the thought that all around him was the gray-green disintegration of the American soldier. Men giving away pieces of themselves to keep their country whole. Spinning webs and stories and losing their centers.
Reader Comments (3)
I read this book. It is powerful. It does have some explicit language and mature scenes (like most movies out there these days). Jameson is an expert at her craft. I could easily see this adapted for film.
I appreciate your addition to the lunch break fiction. Very powerful dialogue and characters to walk into a room with. It didn't take me long at all to get into the characters and trying to piece together the plot. Just a right amount of alluding and foreshadow to get into the characters. I will get the book. I just read City of Theives by David Benioff and I will soon do my review and similiar to your piece it had all the hard hitting elements of modern life and language that keeps me interested.
Do you only write novels? Perhaps you can share with us some of your writing habits and inspirations that keep you motivated. I know many readers on the site enjoy writing fiction and we could use advice. I would love if you could be a regular contributor with your fiction or essay that help describes the process of writing or even what it means to you. We are a captive audience and one very open minded and willing to learn.
Thanks again for the lunch.
Hi,
thanks for the great comments. I'd be happy to post some info about writing and will do so as soon as I can...
again, thanks!