Predestiny

by Phipps, C. T.

  It went off perfectly. For now. I was going to catch hell when I came back from the meeting because there was no way she didn’t notice me driving off. I was rewarded for that observation with a series of texts on my phone and one glance over showed me they were all from Jane (where did she get a cellphone anyway?). They were also almost entirely composed of profanity.

  Sorry. Except I wasn’t sorry in the slightest. It was actually gratifying to be away from her control for a time and I savored the freedom which came from escaping it. I listened to my favorite music and took a moment to remember what it was like to be an ordinary teenager again. It made the drive all the more enjoyable.

  The “usual spot” happened to be across town in one of the areas of Detroit that hadn’t been rebuilt by Butterfly and where the old residents hadn’t been kicked out. It was an old brick church that had already lost its congregation but Reverend Tully allowed us to use it. He was one of the H.O.P.E. members that founded our chapter in New Detroit. I liked him but he had a burning anger at Butterfly for kicking so many people out of their homes to “save” the city.

  The church was in a neighborhood which was full of “For Sale” signs and condemnation notices but was two stories tall with a little bell tower. The parking lot was empty because the Detroit Police Department routinely scoured the area, looking for squatters, but there was a spot behind the church where I saw five or six cars gathered. It wasn’t easy to spot vehicles there and I decided to place mine among them.

  “She’s getting paranoid,” I muttered, thinking about how Anna had insisted we observe various means of keeping the group’s meetings secret. I parked the car and turned off my cellphone before getting out.

  I was immediately confronted by Anna, who was wearing a gray hoodie. She slapped me across the chest. “You have a lot of nerve showing up here.”

  “Wait, what?” I said, confused. “You invited me!”

  Anna put her hands on her waist. “That’s not the point. I tried to give you some space after Chicago, but you haven’t been to a single meeting since. It’s like you abandoned us.”

  “I was freaked out,” I said, immediately snapping. “Monarch thugs tried to kill us.”

  “That’s because they’re evil,” Anna said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

  “No, not H.O.P.E.,” I said. “Me and Christine personally. If it wasn’t for Jane we’d both be dead.”

  I was surprised I admitted that to her, but she barely believed me anyway. “Yeah-yeah. The fact is we need you.”

  “H.O.P.E. needs me?” I asked, testing her. “Or you do?”

  Anna snorted. “Don’t try to Han Solo me.”

  She deserved an answer and I tried to figure out how to explain without using the words “time travel”. I was surprised when a story came to mind. “The truth is, Anna, it’s about Jane. Her dad got arrested in Chicago. I can’t help but think part of this was my fault and I’ve been dealing with a lot of guilt. Also, helping her get settled in until we can find her a new place to stay has been taking up a lot of time.”

  “She doesn’t have another place to stay?” Anna asked, accusatorily.

  “She’s a distant relative,” I said, the lies coming smoothly now. I was surprised at how easily they did now. “I was the one who invited her to come to the protest with her dad.”

  “I see,” Anna said, blinking. “Well, it’s no excuse for blowing us off and not talking to me for weeks, but I guess I understand. Why the hell couldn’t you have just told me that from the very beginning?”

  I shrugged. “Like I said, it’s been hard. I also couldn’t face everyone here after what had happened. I am responsible, no matter what you say.”

  Anna rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, it’s your job to explain it to the others. We’ve got a lot to discuss tonight, especially about retaliation.”

  “Wait, what? Retaliation?” I asked.

  Anna ignored me and practically dragged me along by the arm.

  We entered the church’s basement through a cellar door, finding ourselves in a large concrete chamber where there was a table set up, covered in untouched food. There were chairs and beanbags all around as well as about a dozen people present. Most of them were on laptops or huddled around a big board on the wall which depicted all of Butterfly’s local operations.

  The last time I was at a H.O.P.E. meeting, the mood had been light and casual. There had been chatter about movies, friends, girlfriends, boyfriends, and what the latest video game coming out would be like. Instead, the feeling in the air was far different. It was dark and angry with every conversation going on being about Butterfly or the events in Chicago. I wondered, now, if I should be here, but it was too late to turn back now—especially when almost everyone turned to look at me.

  “Uh, hey, guys,” I said, waving my hand.

  Most of them gave me sneers. Others didn’t even bother to do that. But none of them looked away. They were waiting for me to say something—an excuse or explanation for my absence. I couldn’t tell them the truth, obviously, but I had to say something.

  I knew what Jane would want.

  And I didn’t care. Looking upon the faces of everyone around me, I knew I couldn’t disappoint them. “I know I’ve been MIA lately. Most of you know I was with Christine Trainer in Chicago for the protests, and I … I just needed time to process what happened over there. It was loud and scary. And to be honest, I didn’t know where I stood afterwards. I wondered, ‘Is all this really worth it?’ I asked the same question a hundred different ways, but when I looked in the mirror I always got the same answer: absolutely. I won’t lie to you. The memories of that day suck, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything, because now I know more than ever that Butterfly has to be stopped. And I’m here for the long haul.”

  Slowly, one by one, everyone in the room rose to their feet and began clapping. I was actually receiving a standing ovation.

  Wow, Jane was going to kill me for this.

  “That was good,” Anna said surprised. “Real good.”

  “It’s just how I feel.”

  We shared a smile, the first one in months. It felt good. She then motioned for me to take a seat so she could formally begin the meeting. I started on my way towards the back of the room and noticed everyone was still staring at me. Not one for attention, I flashed them all an awkward smile and slithered into a seat. How on earth was I ever supposed to be a charismatic leader?

  Clearing her throat, Anna started to call the meeting to order when a mother and daughter pair interrupted her by walking through the door. I vaguely recognized the mother as Clarissa Reynolds, a beautiful brown-haired woman in her mid-forties. Clarissa was from the United Kingdom and sounded like it. I didn’t know what her beef with Butterfly was, but I believed it related to her now-deceased husband. Her clothing was a pleasant blue dress and white blouse with a jacket over top.

  The similarly brown-haired girl at her side was much too young to be at this meeting, looking to be about eight years old with freckles and in a blue school uniform. I’d never seen her before but suspected it was Clarissa’s daughter Sabrina. Her mother had talked about her a lot in the past. Still, it was strange that she brought her along now, especially to a meeting this late.

  Clarissa instantly received a rather peculiar series of looks from everyone in the room, me included, and she accepted them all with an embarrassed grin while moving to the back of the room, pulling Sabrina behind her. “I’m sorry. The sitter bailed on me. I had to bring her.”

  I could practically hear some of the judgmental thoughts from those staring at her but didn’t think any of my own. Most parents might’ve just stayed home if they couldn’t find someone to watch their children. I knew how dedicated Clarissa was to the cause, though. She joined H.O.P.E. because of her daughter’s future. It might seem strange now, but perhaps Sabrina will one day look back on her mother’s activism and appreciate her dedication.

  Right now, however, the girl didn’t se
em to have a clue where she was.

  Clarissa took a seat in the back row as well and positioned her daughter between us. Sabrina was immersed in a notepad, coloring with a small packet of crayons. Anna had begun talking again, but I barely noticed. Sabrina’s innocence to the world around her had garnered my focus.

  “Hey,” I said leaning over. “I’m Robbie. You’re Sabrina, right?”

  She paused briefly from her coloring, an acknowledgment that she heard me, but never looked up. So I tried to engage her again. “What’cha drawing?”

  With her head still down, Sabrina silently moved the coloring book over into my view. It was a space scene with rockets and astronauts. The drawing was terrible, but she was eight. Still better than anything I could’ve done.

  “Is that what you want to be when you grow up?” I asked.

  “No,” she answered while resuming to color. “I want to be a teacher like my mom.”

  “Teacher, huh? That’s a very important job.”

  “I know, but mom says I’m great with little kids.” She nodded her head as if she was proud of the label. “They look up to me.”

  “I believe it.”

  Sabrina raised her gaze to me. It was the first time I’d seen her eyes since the conversation began. “What do you want to be, Robbie?”

  “I’m not sure. Haven’t really thought about it.” The first part was true. The second was probably the biggest lie I’ve ever told.

  Sabrina innocently shrugged her shoulders, as if she couldn’t possibly understand why I didn’t have an answer. “Well, just pick something. You can be whatever you want.”

  In just six words an eight-year-old girl had solved the dilemma that been plaguing me since Chicago. I never thought destiny could be so easy. Maybe it really was just that simple.

  “You know, Sabrina, that’s probably the best advice anybody has ever given me. You are a good teacher.”

  “Thanks,” she said, grinning from ear to ear. She was missing a tooth, making her smile even cuter.

  “Figuring a way to make … them bleed,” Anna said from the front of the room, instantly grabbing my attention. It was obvious she was going to say something else before realizing she was in front of a child.

  I then figured this was probably a part of the meeting I should’ve been paying attention to. Anna was serious about retaliation. For the most part, H.O.P.E. activities across the country were passive. Protests and awareness. She was talking about taking action, though. Moving towards the offensive. A part of me felt a bit off about it, but after sitting around with Jane for so long, I couldn’t help but get drawn into the discussion.

  “I’ve got some ideas,” an obese Hispanic man in a thick sweater and sweat pants said. That was Carlyle Hernandez, who was a computer programmer by day and hacker extraordinaire by night. “Things like payroll hacks, system takedowns, and—”

  “Kid stuff,” an older man with white hair, Fred Otto, said. He was wearing camouflage pants and a green tank top. He was a veteran and someone who scared me a little. “They’ve beaten us in the streets and tried to kill us. We need to hit them hard. Physically.”

  “We can’t commit the crimes we’re accused of,” Clarissa said.

  “Why not?” Fred responded.

  I tried to interject but found my words soon drowned out in a torrent of arguing. Everyone in the group was angry at Butterfly and their Monarch mercenaries, but nobody could quite agree how to strike back. Anna, interestingly, didn’t express any opinions, and instead just nudged everyone along the most extreme path they were arguing for.

  In the end, nothing was accomplished.

  But I was glad I came.

  A feeling of electric inspiration stayed with me the whole ride home. It reminded me of when I first started going to H.O.P.E. meetings filled with optimism and fervor. I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face, which was strange given the stakes stacked against us.

  I was riding so high I had completely forgotten about sneaking out of the house and what Jane was going to do when I got home. I should’ve been more worried about my father, though. Upon walking through the front door, I quickly realized he was not in the best of moods.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The first indication of my father’s anger was the loud bang that echoed through the house. It sounded like he’d shut the refrigerator door. Dad proceeded to stomp his way into the living room while twisting off the bottle cap of the beer in his hand. He was probably already several drinks in, evidenced by the ‘angry drunk’ look on his otherwise tired, weathered face. It was a vile expression, as if he were fighting off some nasty taste.

  I’m sure he knew I entered the house, but Dad didn’t even bother to look my way. He just plopped onto the couch with his back to me and turned his attention to the television softly playing a Butterfly-sponsored newsreel.

  Although I couldn’t know for sure, it was certainly plausible he knew I was at a H.O.P.E. meeting and that’s why he was so pissed. It was late, after all. Perhaps not, though. Otherwise, I would’ve gotten an earful from him the moment I walked through the door. I debated whether I should just head upstairs and leave him alone. There was always the chance that if I butted in then his angst could shift onto me. But even after everything he put me through, the man was still my father, and I didn’t want to see him suffer.

  After shutting the door behind me, I approached the back of the couch and tried to gently spark the conversation with a simple, “Hey, Dad, anything wrong?”

  “Doesn’t concern you,” my father answered, without ever turning his head away from the screen. “Just go upstairs and do your homework.”

  I moved around the couch, yet his eyes never glanced in my direction as I spoke. “Did something happen? You look upset.”

  “I said it’s none of your business. Now get outta here.”

  Twice I tried and twice he rejected me. There was no point going for a third attempt.

  I stepped back behind him and started on my way towards the stairs, but I only made it halfway across the room before Dad’s voice caught me. “You know what I don’t get?”

  Unsurprised, I stopped and let out a sigh. My father wasn’t known for keeping his opinion to himself. As hard as he tried, it was impossible for him to let things go. I only hoped the inevitable warpath we were about to embark on was relatively quick and painless.

  After taking a sip of his beer while standing, Dad turned to face me with a crooked scowl. “All those hippie friends of yours like to point the finger at Butterfly for how they handle things. Every day is spent calling Monarch the enemy for the way they take care of business. But you don’t offer an alternative. You don’t have any goddamn solution to all the problems they solve.”

  There was no point arguing with him, so I simply shrugged my shoulders with an uncaring grimace. “I don’t know, Dad.”

  He seemed almost offended by my response. “That’s it? You don’t know?”

  What had brought this on? Did he really know where I was tonight?

  I didn’t want to give an explanation, but I could feel his eyes burning through me from across the room. I had to say something and tried to express my opinion in the broadest, least confrontational way possible. “What they do is just … wrong.”

  “Wrong? Wrong?!” We were still a fair way away from one another, but Dad closed the gap with several angry steps, waving his beer around as he began to rant. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong. Crime. Drugs. Disrespect. A man can’t walk down the street in this day and age without being disgusted at what he sees.”

  With the space between us shrinking, I quickly thought that appealing to his pride would resolve the tension. “But we don’t need soldiers. That’s why we have real, hardworking police officers like you.”

  Instead of agreeing with me, he just averted his gaze, too ashamed to look me in the eye. “Yeah, well, not anymore.”

  “What?”

  He answered the question with a jumbled expression of anger, disappointment
, sadness, and frustration. “I got put on leave, Robbie.”

  Surprised, I was still perplexed by the response. “Why? What happened?”

  He looked forward again to point an angry finger in my face, this time leaning in close enough that I could smell the cheap beer on his breath. “I don’t know. Some bullshit about excessive force. But if you ask me, there’s no such thing when a punk gangster wannabe waves a knife in your face.”

  There were many ways I could’ve taken the news, but my gut reaction was of sympathy. He might’ve deserved it. After all, I knew my father could be quick to anger. But he was still my dad, and I knew how much his job meant to him.

  I reached out to gently place a hand on his shoulder. “Dad, I’m so sorr—”

  But he abruptly batted it away and screamed, “You’re so what? Sorry?! Why? How could you when you’re out there sneaking around to your secret meetings?”

  Caught off guard by the accusation, I stammered out a pitiful defense. “Wh … what are you—”

  “Oh, don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I know exactly where you were tonight. So don’t you dare lie to me, son.”

  It wasn’t my fault he got put on leave. Not that it mattered now. I was right in front him and had given him an easy target for taking out his frustration. Guilty of nothing more than not being the son he wanted.

  Believe it or not, my first reaction was to be angry with Jane. I assumed she must have figured out where I went and told my father as punishment.

  But he was quick to disprove that notion while slowly backing me across the room. “That’s right. Some of my buddies on the force have been keeping an eye on a couple of H.O.P.E. members they think have been vandalizing Butterfly billboards. Just so happens that those punks held a little gathering tonight. And guess who shows up.”

  I became startled as my back suddenly hit the wall, which Dad found amusing. He let out a light chuckle while lifting the bottle to his lips. “I thought having Jane here might’ve helped you see the light. Showed you how to stand up and be a man like that soldier brother of hers.”