by A. R. Shaw
She worried about him still, as if he were her own son. She’d put him in the worst possible of dangers. It would be her fault if something happened to him. Still, Jason had insisted on going alone.
Perhaps this was what also bothered Kent. Maybe he already resented her for letting Jason do his part.
The moment Jason left, part of her had left with him. Please return to us safely.
Still, the plan was solid. She had faith in him and his part in the whole scheme of things. But if something were to happen to Jason, no one would forgive her, especially not her daughter Wren.
9
Wren
She’d gone to find him, after what her mother had said. It wasn’t that she doubted her mother’s words; it was more that. She thought Jason was trying to please her mother. And if there was one thing she’d learned existing as Sloane’s daughter…you couldn’t please her all the time. She always made you feel like you could do just a little better if you tried just a little harder. It was infuriating. Nothing was good enough. Perhaps that’s why she went to find him. She wanted to tell him not to fall for it.
Opening the door to the converted garage bedroom, she only discovered his things were gone. The blue T-shirt he hung by the window, folded in half and laid neatly over a strong line hung between his area and Chuck’s, was missing. Perhaps it was all too much for him. Perhaps he thought her mother was bat-shit crazy at times, too. Maybe he wanted to get out before it was too late. She couldn’t blame him. There were times when she wanted to flee, to be alone, to become someone else. To escape on her own. That wouldn’t happen. Not yet anyway. The pang in her heart begged the question, Why didn’t he say goodbye to me? They’d become friends, after all. She’d spent quiet time with him in this very room. They’d never kissed or anything like that, but once, he did hold her hand when they’d talked about the other place. The pain beyond the doors they both shared. He’d brushed the backs of his fingers against the side of her tear-stained cheek. Why didn’t he say goodbye?
She had to find him; she had to find Jason. Only one person might know where he’d gone. That person was Mae. The one who kept track of them all.
Leaving the door open, she fled off into the night to find her little sister. As she turned to run up the street, the forest shadows cast a trick of light over her path. And as she ran, she stumbled onto who she thought was Kent by the way his silhouette blocked the starry night.
“Hey, where are you going?” the man said after he stopped himself, a little startled. She could see he reached for his sidearm.
It was Chuck’s voice, though, not Kent’s.
“Have you seen Jason?”
He turned his head to the side and looked down at her. “Nah, come to think of it, I haven’t seen him for a while. It was a crazy day for all of us. You shouldn’t be running around here at night, especially not right now. I’m sure he’ll turn up.”
Sweat beaded on the palms of her hands. She rubbed them on the sides of her thighs. “You’re right. I’ll get back to the house,” she said and turned around. She felt his footsteps coming along behind her. She heard someone making dinner upstairs in the house. It would be fish again tonight, she decided by the smell wafting down. She didn’t really like the tuna surprise, they called it, but her stomach had other ideas by its grumblings.
Chuck passed her by as she reached the staircase. He was soaked through from the downpour earlier and by the looks of him in the ambient light, he’d taken to a mud puddle. “See you at dinner, then.”
Chuck tipped his head at her. “I gotta clean up first. Your mom would fillet me showing up at dinner like this. Good evening, Wren.”
She liked Chuck. He was what Mae called ballsy. He challenged their mother’s plans occasionally, something they rarely did. She put up with it for some reason. Chuck was a skilled worker. He was valuable. That was probably why, Wren thought as she walked up the stairs.
She made it halfway. Just enough so that Chuck wouldn’t suspect she was taking off again and tell her parents. Parents? Kent was like a dad. At least he listened to her. Turning around quietly, she crept back down the stairs ever so slightly.
“I’m glad you’re home, Wren. Have you seen Nicole and Mae?”
Her mother’s voice came from the kitchen window above. She must have heard her on the stairs.
Her shoulders suddenly rose up to her ears. She rolled her eyes as she thought of her response. “No Mom, I haven’t seen them.”
“Well, can you find, them? We’re about to eat dinner.”
It was as if things were normal, and her mother was calling them all to the table. It was as if the world hadn’t ended…and they had not just killed a small invasion…but they had done just that.
“No Mom, it’s not my turn to watch my sisters.”
“That wasn’t a question. Please find them and tell them it’s time for dinner.”
“Fine. Where do you think they might be? And where is Jason, by the way?”
Her mother didn’t answer right away. “I’m pretty sure they’re helping in town, resetting the store. And Jason is working on something for me. He won’t be with us tonight for dinner.”
“What do you mean? Did you send him somewhere?”
“Wren, please just go find your sisters.” And that’s when the window slammed shut. End of discussion. Something was going on. She sent Jason on a mission. That had to be it. That meant Jason was in danger.
Frustration boiled up inside her chest. Wren growled. Her mother could be so infuriating. This time Wren wasn’t quiet. This time she turned and ran at a good pace, hearing her own boots clomp against the damp gravel drive.
She’d run this path many times before. It didn’t take long before she curved the bend into town. Now all she had to do was find Mae and then see if anyone knew what Jason was involved in. More than likely, Mae would know what happened. It was just a matter of asking her the right question.
The town looked so different now than it used to. Electric lights lighting the night had been replaced by torchlights, and she preferred the amber glow. With each gust of wind, the periodic torches lining the streets would wave this way or that. It was as if the night were alive. She calmed her breath and looked around at the people milling about. She thought how much more she liked living in Cannon Beach now. It wasn’t just the town, it was what they created here. They were surviving. They were finally learning to trust again. Thinking back to the other places they called home, miles away, she remembered feeling secure but alone. Never before had she missed her friends so much. Her family was fine. Though she needed other people, too. At least now, they had others to talk to, to bond with. Like Jason. And now he was missing. She had to find him.
Just then, she saw the shaggy black fur of their dog Ace. He attached himself mostly to Mae and Nicole now. The end of Mae’s ponytail flipped around the corner, followed by Nicole’s shadow. She caught up to them easily and saw that they each carried heavy loads. “What are you doing here?”
Mae turned to her. Beads of sweat covered her sister’s face and Ace came over to Wren and leaned into her thigh for acknowledgment. “What do you mean? I’m here helping out the town resetting things. Why aren’t you helping?”
As Wren gave Ace a good scratch she said back, “I didn’t know we were supposed to help.”
Mae blew out a breath, lifting part of her bangs. “That’s because you’re so fragile.” She said ‘so fragile’ as if she was mocking her.
“What do you mean?”
Mae basically let the box control-fall to the shop floor and wiped the sweat from her brow. She looked as if she were buying time. “Don’t you think you could help now? Instead of running off, doing whatever it is that you do. I don’t think you’re fragile. I think you’re lazy.”
“Wait, what? I didn’t know who we were supposed to help out.” Suddenly her hands were on her hips. Mae was acting as if she wasn’t doing anything at all.
“I’m just saying you can help out more.” H
er sister looked suddenly uncomfortable. It wasn’t like Mae to mince words. Mae was like a word vomiter. No filter. Suddenly her sister looked as if she were trying to avoid the conversation altogether. She didn’t even make eye contact with her.
“Whatever,” Wren said. “Have you seen Jason?”
That’s when Mae looked a little more like her old self. Her eyes darted into Wren’s. She shook her head. But then, her eyes widened just a little bit. “I haven’t seen him.”
She was lying, and Wren knew it. “But you know something. I can tell by the look on your face. You might not have seen him, but you know where he is.”
May shook her head again. “That’s where you’re wrong. I don’t know where he is. And I haven’t seen him.”
Wren was suspicious, saying the three words with a deliberate pause. “You. Know. Something. Spill it. Now.”
Mae let out a hot breath and rolled her eyes. “All right. He’s working on something for Mom. He probably won’t return for a few days.”
“That’s not enough. She already told me that. What do you mean?”
“I mean he’s doing a job for Mom. I don’t know what else to say. Think about what happened today. Think about what Jason’s good at. I can’t tell you more than that, but he’ll be back soon.”
“How do you know all of this? Do they tell you things that they don’t tell me?”
“No. I just pay attention. And right now, I need to go.” Mae picked the box she was hauling earlier back up again. It was too heavy for her. She could barely see over the top. And yet she still struggled to do what needed to be done. Her sister was like that. Her mother was like that. And so was Wren. They struggled at things that were too hard for them but they eventually prevailed.
“Mom wants you home for dinner, by the way,” Wren said as she walked out the door.
“Wait. Where are you going?” Mae called after her as she left the building.
Wren was already putting it together. She knew what Jason was good at. She knew what he was up to now. It was her mother’s doing. If something happened to him it would be her fault.
“I have something to do. I’ll see you at home…later,” she called to her sister. It wasn’t exactly a lie; she did have something to do. And she would see her at home… soon.
If Jason could go on a mission to help them, she could too. He needed her. He could barely speak. He could barely hear. And they sent him off to track the one guy they let go. It was madness. That’s what he had to be doing. He was the only one that knew how to operate the drones. She was going to find him. She was going to help. In doing so, she would show her mother that she was no longer fragile. She was at least as strong as Jason.
10
Kent
The bitter wind had increased overnight. Each footfall emitted an audible crunch as Kent walked toward the market. Taking a sip of the bitter coffee warming his left hand, the hot liquid nearly burned his lip. The steam coiled away with each gale, like an ocean wave disseminating on a hostile shoreline. “It’s going to be a long day,” he said himself. In his right hand, he carried along his medical kit. There would be no doubt of its use today.
It was Chuck that he saw standing by the entrance to the market. “How the hell did you get here so fast?”
“Man, I was so tired when I got back, I skipped dinner and went right to sleep. Then I woke early and thought I’d better check on our subterranean friend,” said Chuck. He notched his chin toward Kent’s bag.
“Are you ready for this today?” Chuck said.
“Remember, he can hear everything we say,” Kent cautioned, then took another sip of his now lukewarm coffee. “Damn, it’s cold this morning.”
Chuck nodded. “I know. We’ve already had a little chat.”
“Oh yeah?” With his voice a little louder Kent said, “Did you find out what his name is yet?”
“Nah, he wants to keep that to himself.”
Kent downed the remains of his cold coffee and was about to say something else when. from below, they heard, “I just really need some painkillers. An anti-inflammatory will do, anything. You guys have no reason to know my name.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Chuck said.
“I think I pissed myself, I’m shaking, and I’m in a lot of fucking pain. Can’t you have some compassion?”
“I don’t think you guys came here with compassion on your minds yesterday,” Chuck laughed and was about to say something else, but Kent raised his hand and cut him off.
Wadding up his paper cup, Kent tossed it to the side into the formed trash heap. In thought, he wiped his mouth with his coat sleeve. “I understand that you’re struggling. But you also have to understand we’re here to help you.”
Chuckling sounds came from below. “Here to help me? You assholes are the ones that put me here. You’ve probably murdered the rest of my group by the sounds of all the craziness yesterday.”
Chuck raised his hands, shaking his head at the irony of the situation, and began to protest, “You guys…” but Kent cut him off again.
“Look, I know you’re scared. But if you just tell us your name, and give us the information we need, and promise not to shoot us when we open the hatch to help you, I give you my word, no harm will come to you.”
“It doesn’t matter, man. I already ate all the Twinkies. I’ve got nothing to live for. If I give you the information you need or not, they’re still going to come and kill all of you. And me, too. Which also means my family dies. So, you see it doesn’t matter.”
“That’s just the pain talking. You probably didn’t sleep at all last night. Most likely you’re hypothermic. Let’s get you fixed up and then we can talk about the rest.”
Chuck cleared his throat. “Just give us your word you’ll put the gun down. Kick it to the far end of the cell. Hell, we have shitloads more Twinkies, dude. We found an abandoned Hostess truck a while back.”
The man below said nothing. There was a long pause. Chuck looked up at Kent with raised eyebrows. Then the sounds of the man sobbing, followed by a distinctive click, sent Kent into action.
Whispering harshly, Kent said, “Open the hatch, now!”
For once Chuck didn’t question him. He reached for the lever, as Kent lunged for the rifle he had slung over his shoulder. Rushing, Kent raised the scope to his eye. With his heart beating out of his chest he searched for the man in the dark as if plunging a hand into muddy water to retrieve a lost cell phone. It was almost surely doomed, but he gave the best effort possible.
With everything in slow motion, Kent found the man’s chest, and fired with a whap. The tranquilizer stuck out of his right pectoral. The small fringed flag bloomed from the inserted needle.
Holding his breath, Kent saw the gun already raised to the man’s jawline.
The man’s finger held the trigger, but his eyes conveyed a stunned surprise. His head slumped to the side a second later. His chin fell to his chest.
“Shit! Did you get him?” Chuck asked while wrenching the heavy lever door open the rest of the way.
“Just barely,” Kent said, his hands shaking so much he had to put down the tranquilizer gun.
“How did you know he was going to do it?”
Kent shook his head. “All his Twinkies were gone,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.
Chuck knelt down and grabbed the edge. “Well, look at that; he did eat all the Twinkies. And Jesus, he also pissed his pants. He’s at least honest.”
“Let’s just get him out of there. We’ll fix him up, and then see what he can do to help us.”
“What if he won’t? Help us, I mean. What are you going to do to change his mind?” Chuck asked.
Kent sat on his knees and looked at Chuck. “What changed your mind? You were in a similar position not too long ago.”
Chuck sat up and leaned his head to the side a bit.
“Okay, I mean after I rescued you from the old man.”
Chuck shrugged his shoulders. “You guys gave me a
job to do. You gave me something to live for. You gave me a reason to fight the bastards.”
“Same thing here, then.”
11
Davis
So stiff were his legs the next morning, Davis barely moved them, though he gave it good effort. The rate at which he walked was hindered further by the numbness in his toes and hands, to the point that he stopped far too often. He’d only left last night’s camp half an hour ago.
Like his mood, not only was the sky the dullest gray hue, like a dappled horse—nothing new for the Northwest—but the fog, too, was so thick he felt he needed a shovel to make any progress. He had a hard time walking through the thick stuff with any confidence that he wouldn’t knock into something or someone. If he had to calculate it, he had maybe an eight-foot visibility range. “When does this crap end?” He didn’t only mean the fog. He meant everything. It was all crap. Thick…gray…crap, from the moment he woke to the last second before he fell asleep from pure exhaustion since this all began, or ended…it depended on your frame of mind at the time.
Davis went to take another step when suddenly a buzzing in his ear was followed by dense white clouds spinning by his head. “I’d better sit down. I must be a bit dehydrated.” He wobbled on his feet, crouched down and sat his ass hard on the cold damp asphalt.
He hadn’t taken his boots off the night before, knowing that would allow the swelling to take over. He didn’t want to try and shove a balloon up a tight sphincter. It sounded like a bad idea last night. Now he wasn’t so sure he’d made the right decision. As he sat there on the road, he clearly saw the back fabric of his jump boots was soaked with blood. Much of it was brown and oxidized. There were new spots too, vibrant and rusty. “Dammit, I wish I hadn’t seen that,” he said, because before that he had been able to put the pain out of his mind. Now it was right before him. And it burned like hell.