Until... | Book 3 | Until The End

by Hamill, Ike

  “No worries,” Amber said. “I’m not in any rush. I really appreciate your hospitality.”

  While Mary had worked, pouring wax and setting wicks, Amber had nearly nodded off at the kitchen table.

  As Amber came into the kitchen again after her nap, the room was transformed. All the candles were gone and instead of pots of bubbling wax, she saw potatoes, squash, peas, and something that could have been a thick stew.

  “Roast beef in sauce is back right. The rest is vegetarian,” Mary said. “Grab a plate and help yourself.”

  “Thank you,” Amber said with a smile.

  Ricky slid over and arranged Tucker between his own feet to make room for Amber.

  “You sleep okay?” Vernon asked.

  “Like the dead,” Amber said. She regretted the response as soon as it was out of her mouth. It was something that Evelyn always said. It wasn’t the type of thing one said in polite company.

  Vernon laughed and Amber felt her tension melt away.

  “You live in North Carolina?” Mary asked.

  “I guess,” Amber said. “Honestly, I’ve been bouncing around. Now that my cousin… I guess I don’t know where I’m going to land. I was thinking it might be time to try a big change. Maybe Australia.”

  “What’s wrong with Maine?” Vernon asked.

  “She tried that, Dad,” Ricky said. “Maine wasn’t exactly welcoming.”

  “Actually,” Amber said, “I liked it a lot. Even with the…” She realized that she didn’t know how much Ricky had told his parents about what had happened at the wedding. Fortunately, he finished her sentence.

  “Killer vampires coming out of the woods to try to hunt you down?” Ricky asked.

  Amber frowned and nodded.

  “Killer vampires?” Mary asked. “Are there different types of vampires around who aren’t killers?”

  “It just sounds better,” Ricky said with a shrug.

  Mary pointed her fork at her son.

  “It’s funny here at the table, but you remember what I told you.”

  Amber turned to look at Ricky, who was studying the food on his plate.

  “Well?” Vernon asked. “What did you tell him? Was it a secret?”

  Ricky cleared his throat and then said, “Mom said that it’s easy to risk your life but much harder to find something worth risking your life for.”

  Vernon cut his eyes between his wife and son and then looked to Amber. He seemed just as confused as she felt.

  Under the table, Tucker barked.

  A moment later, the door rattled and a young man came in.

  “What’s for dinner?”

  # # #

  Amber decided it must be George, Ricky’s little brother, just before they were introduced. He insisted that Amber keep her seat and pulled up a chair from around the corner before he went off to put together his plate.

  “Your roommate kick you out again?” Mary asked.

  “Yeah,” George said, laughing. He came to the table with a plate piled high. They slid glasses and plates around to make room for him at the end. In between bites, George said, “I just need some more quiet time to finish what I’m working on. I’m sick of hanging out in the library all night. They turn down the heat to nothing. You have to wear a jacket just to keep from shivering.”

  “It is possible to do your work during the day, like a human being would,” Mary said.

  George shrugged. “Too much good stuff going on.”

  “What are you studying?” Amber asked.

  He was chewing when he answered and had to repeat himself before she understood.

  “Philosophy.”

  “Just in time, too,” Vernon said. “That new philosophy factory is about to open.”

  Ricky leaned close to Amber and said, “Dad thinks it’s funny to make fun of George because he’s actually very proud of him.”

  “Untrue,” Vernon said. “Pride would mean that I felt like I had nurtured him into a bright young man capable of achieving these great things. I’m fully aware that my contribution to his upbringing did nothing at all to launch him down this path.”

  “That’s very philosophical, Vernon,” Mary said.

  “Well said,” George said.

  “Will you all excuse me for a moment?” Amber asked. When she had permission, she rose and began to gather her plate. Ricky shook his head and put his hand over her plate, telling her not to worry about it. Amber left them in silence and retreated to the stairs, not slowing until she was back in the room where she had napped.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over, looking down at her feet until she could catch her breath. Amber stayed that way for a couple of minutes, with her head propped up by her hands. Tucker appeared beneath her, looking up and putting his nose to hers. She pulled back, smiling.

  “Sorry,” Ricky said from the doorway.

  “Don’t be.”

  “I mean I’m sorry to intrude. It looks like you want some space. Come on, Tucker.”

  “No, it’s fine. Really.”

  Ricky hovered in the doorway, looking nervous. Amber pushed back farther onto the bed, leaning back against the pillows propped up there.

  “What do you think is worth dying for?” she asked.

  “Huh?”

  “At the table. The thing your mom told you before.”

  “Oh,” he said, shaking his head. He finally came into the room and pulled the chair out from behind the desk so he could sit down. “Not worth dying for—that’s not what she said—worth risking my life for.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “I’m not prepared to die for anything at the moment. I mean, I guess I am, but it’s not the same thing. When I decided I wanted to be a deputy, my father was against it. Mom was the one who convinced him. But before she did, she had a talk with me. She wanted to be sure that I knew what I was getting into.”

  Amber nodded.

  “Her point was that there can be a wide gulf between what law enforcement is supposed to be about and what it’s actually about. I think she was okay with me risking my safety as long as I had my eyes open about why I was doing it.”

  “And why are you doing it?”

  “Because people aren’t perfect, and sometimes that leads to others getting hurt. If I can, I want to be the person to steady everything before it has a chance to topple.”

  “Even if it falls on you?”

  “Better me than someone else. I can take it,” Ricky said. “That’s the point where my mom would say, ‘Confidence is the food of the wise man, but the liquor of the fool.’”

  “That makes sense,” Amber said.

  “Yeah. I think it’s just a quote from The Office though.”

  “Oh.”

  They were silent for a moment. Tucker had been leaning against Ricky’s legs while Ricky scratched his head. He came to Amber and pressed his nose up under her hand, making her smile.

  “I told my brother that he smelled so bad that it made you leave the table.”

  Amber laughed.

  “I just…”

  She didn’t know how to finish.

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself. You can stay if you want or I can give you directions to some of the hotels around here. Honestly, the best place to stay is the little hotel down at the Lakes, but it’s not open this time of year. For a decent place, you’ll want to go about twenty minutes south.”

  “I’ll stay here if it’s okay,” she said. “I’m nocturnal though. I mean, I’m going to be up all night and sleep during the day. I hope that doesn’t freak anyone out.”

  “Not a problem,” Ricky said. “I’ve been working whatever shift I can get. Tonight, you’ll have company. George really will be up all night working on his project. He has some really weird study habits.”

  Ricky stood.

  “We’ll be down in the living room if you want to join us, but no worries if you don’t.”

  “I just need a few more minutes,” Am
ber said.

  Ricky waved. After calling the dog out of the room, he shut the door most of the way. Amber could hear the sounds of cleanup happening downstairs. Somewhere a television came on and then a little later a radio in the room next to hers. The house seemed big compared to Evelyn’s house, but the family made it seem small. Amber felt like she could track each one of them as they moved around. She even knew when Ricky left before she saw his flashlight carving through the woods.

  Their closeness to each other made Amber anxious. It seemed like Ricky and his family didn’t have any secrets from each other. Feet came up the stairs and Amber held her breath, waiting for someone to knock on the door. Instead, she heard Vernon through the wall, talking to George. She couldn’t hear the words, but the tone led her to believe that everything was perfectly normal between them. George had showed up unexpectedly, eaten dinner, and then retreated to his room to work and everyone simply took it in stride, like that was all perfectly normal. At that moment, Amber decided to pack up her things. It would be embarrassing, but she would make her apologies and go find one of the hotels that Ricky had mentioned.

  That’s when she heard a knock at her door.

  # # #

  “Come in,” Amber said.

  Mary slipped inside and closed the door behind herself. She took the chair that Ricky had been sitting in earlier. Amber sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at the bag that she had just zipped up.

  “You seem like you need to talk to someone,” Mary said.

  “No. Thank you, but no. I’ve…” Amber gestured down. “I guess I’ve decided that I don’t want to impose any more than I already have. You have all made me feel so at home, but…”

  “You used to have people up here, right?”

  “Sorry?”

  “Bill Engel? He lived off the Prescott Road?”

  “Oh. Yes. A little unnamed road off of Prescott, but yes.”

  “He died last year, if I’m remembering correctly.”

  “Yes. Ricky must have told you that I was living in Bill’s house. I came up to take care of the estate and I ended up staying for a while.”

  “And then went back south only to have another estate to take care of.”

  “Right,” Amber said. She flattened her mouth into an annoyed line. Amber didn’t mind that Ricky had told his mother about these personal details, but she didn’t appreciate the way that Mary had brought it up—like she didn’t exactly know everything when she really did.

  “Sorry,” Mary said. “I can be blunt. Everyone tells me so, but it doesn’t seem to help knock down any of my rough edges.”

  “I wasn’t close with him—Bill, I mean.”

  “No. I can’t imagine you were.”

  They were silent. Amber was trying to think of a polite way to excuse herself, get in her rental car, and drive away.

  “Not everyone needs people,” Mary said. “After you left the table, Ricky was telling us about his co-worker. She was giving him a ride home and she started telling him about how not everyone needs people in their lives.”

  Amber nodded.

  “Not you, though. You’re not alone by choice. You want to have people, don’t you?”

  “I’m pretty sure that I need some time alone to figure that out. So far, circumstances have worked against me,” Amber said, looking down at her bag again.

  “Yeah, I get it,” Mary said. “You’re a night owl, right?”

  “I was working night shift back home. I’m still on that schedule.”

  “So, what are you going to do—get a hotel room and stay up all night watching TV?”

  “I was going to read, actually.”

  “How about you make some money instead?”

  “Pardon?”

  “With me.”

  “I don’t…”

  “I work my rear end off this time of year so I can make my money during tourist season. Balsam pillows, scented candles, painted rocks, jams, jellies, and in a month, maple syrup. This time of year, there’s nothing better than staying up all night making a case full of nonsense that I can peddle to the tourists come summer. You can help. I’ll pay you by the piece.”

  “Thanks so much for the offer, but…” Amber said.

  Mary was staring at her. It was an uncomfortable, almost telepathic, stare that said, “I’ve taken you in and showed you hospitality. What’s the least you could do in return?”

  “You really want someone to keep you company all night, don’t you?” Amber said.

  “I do.”

  “Okay then,” Amber said.

  “You have something that can get dirty?” Mary asked, gesturing at Amber’s jeans.

  “These are fine.”

  “It can get messy.”

  “These are fine.”

  # # #

  Amber surprised herself with her own creativity. Her favorite task was painting the flat rocks. The idea was simple but it made Amber smile every time. On one side of a small flat rock, she painted a couple of flowers and the words, “Please turn me over!” On the other side, a smiley face and the words, “Thank you.”

  “People buy these?” Amber asked.

  “Like crazy,” Mary said. She held up a mug that she was working on. The word, “Maine” was printed in big block letters on one side. On the other, Mary was painting a quick landscape of a lake and some trees.

  “We got a bunch of these coffee mugs printed that had an amazing reproduction of a landscape that my friend Bridget painted. It was really a work of art. Couldn’t sell them. But if I do a terrible kindergarten version of the same scene, people will buy them at twice the price because it’s undeniably handmade. Either that, or they just buy them because they think it was done by an actual kindergartener.”

  Amber laughed. “Maybe people just like to think they’re supporting someone who is struggling.”

  Mary shrugged. “Could be. I try not to think too much about it. I just watch the trends, see what’s selling, and make more of that. For a long time it was t-shirts. Then it was salt-and-pepper shakers. At the moment, it’s rocks and mugs. Food always does well too, but those move more in late summer. Some years I make more than Vernon. Some years I don’t.”

  “You enjoy it? Seems creative and satisfying,” Amber said. She picked up another rock and wiped it with her rag to make sure it was clean.

  Mary answered her question with a question. “Have you ever worked in food service?”

  “I bussed tables and washed dishes.”

  “I tried it for a while,” Mary said. “There are some restaurants around here where you can work five months out of the year and make a decent living. It’s even better if you can get in at the right place on the coast. I can’t stand that type of work. Everything is so temporary. There’s nothing at all to show for your work.”

  Amber thought about that for a second and then Mary continued.

  “You start the day with a big delivery of ingredients and then spend all that time preparing, cooking, and serving. What do you have to show at closing time? Sure, you have a big pile of cash and hopefully you left a few people with good memories, but I can’t put all that time into a job where there’s no lasting evidence in the world of the thing you created.”

  “Huh,” Amber said.

  They both turned at the sound of the door. Tucker came in, followed by Ricky.

  “Oh no,” Ricky said, “She roped you into the crafting business?”

  “It’s fun,” Amber said.

  “What are you doing back?” Mary asked her son.

  “George said he needed my help with something. Besides, I’m working lunch to midnight tomorrow, so I’m shifting my schedule.”

  Mary nodded, but gave her son a skeptical eye as he passed.

  “He has been working hard for the past few months, trying to track down the mystery of those things that came after you guys in the hotel last year.”

  Amber nodded. “Yeah, he has been giving me updates.”

  “I hope it’s n
ot a mistake,” Mary said. “Some problems get narrower and narrower the more you burrow into them. Before you know it, you’re trapped.”

  “Yeah,” Amber said. On the next rock, instead of painting flowers, she painted a skull. She also shortened the message to make it an order. It just said, “Turn me over.”

  “I like it,” Mary said, pointing her paintbrush at the rock. “Maybe put a tombstone on the back. It will sell.”

  Amber smiled.

  Thirteen: Ricky

  “What’s up?” Ricky asked, pausing in the doorway to his brother’s room.

  George waved him in and motioned for him to close the door behind himself.

  “I’m not really working on a project,” George said.

  “Yeah, I figured. For one, you didn’t drink any Coke at dinner. You always like to pump up with sugar before you come upstairs to get to work. Second, when I was walking home I saw that your window was still closed. You always like to let fresh air in when you work. Third…”

  George interrupted. “First, Sherlock, I stopped drinking Coke two years ago and my window was open, just not very much because I’m getting over a cold. I closed it, like, twenty minutes ago. I think you have a long way to go before you’re going to make a decent detective.”

  “I was right though.”

  “Okay. One point for getting the answer right without being able to show your work.”

  Ricky rolled his eyes.

  “So what are you doing here?”

  George pointed at his clock.

  “We have one-hundred and fifty minutes.”

  “Until?”

  “Until the bear comes back.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I did some more research on the entity that we called from a parallel dimension into Dr. Hugs.”

  Ricky shook his head. “We burned the bear. He didn’t have a chance to replace himself with flesh, so he’s gone. The entity would have been returned to where it came from.”

  “Yes, that’s what we thought,” George said. “And it’s exactly the kind of casual thinking that tragedies are built on. It turns out that our interpretation of flesh was too narrow. You remember what happened with the blood creature you accidentally summoned?”