Dead End

by C. P. Rider

  I now realized that my old world, where I had to hide who and what I was, wasn't home to me the way this world was. Sure, Dead End was weird and dangerous, but this place didn't ask me to hide. It accepted me … for me.

  I loved my dad, but he was comfortable in the other world. He wouldn't want to stay in Dead End. He wouldn't be happy here the way I was. Part of me wanted to hold onto him, to hold onto my old life. To go home.

  But the bigger part of me? It knew I was already there.

  38

  After our family discussion, the healer from the medical clinic was finally able to come and see to everyone's injuries, so Abuelo went ahead and dosed my dad one more time to keep him awake for the examination.

  Abuelo warned me about what to expect so I wouldn't stare, but when a hyper-articulate grizzly bear humanoid figure wearing dark blue scrubs, reading glasses, and carrying a battered black medical bag strolls through the front door, it's hard to resist a lingering look or two.

  After the healer finished her work on both grandpas, she went to work on Dad. I sat on the couch by Abuelo's chair and watched.

  "So, what's happening with Kilsh—"

  Abuelo shot me a silencing look over his newspaper, glanced at the healer, and shook his head. Apparently, he didn't want me bringing up Kilshaw in front of her. I guess that made sense, considering the rumors of impending revolution and the way some Dead Enders seemed to be way too pleased by his appearance.

  I nodded and lowered my voice. "Did you dig up that poisonous root in the garden yet?" Not exactly one of my most subtle moments, although I did stop myself from using quotation fingers, so I considered it a victory.

  Abuelo lowered his newspaper to his lap. "Yes."

  "And?"

  "It's locked up in a glass box. But…"

  "But?"

  Abuelo ran a hand through his hair, squeezed the base of his neck. "I fear its presence has caused such a disruption that it may interfere with the… flower bed. I was advised to keep it in perfect condition until the gardening club can decide what to do with it."

  I swallowed hard. Kilshaw was locked up, but if his detainment was dependent on the sympathies of the people of Sanctum, I worried how long he'd stay in custody. The way Samuel, Cindy, and my grandfathers made it sound, there were a lot of residents who still believed that only Elites should run Sanctum.

  Abuelo patted my knee. "Don't worry. Nobody knows how to open that box but me. The root isn't going anywhere any time soon." He smiled and returned to his newspaper.

  Dismissed, I went to see what the healer was doing to Dad. Mostly she was massaging herbs into his skin. With only a few herbs and a little magic, the healer was able to turn my dad's injuries from deep lacerations and broken ribs to minor scrapes and bruises. She'd set the broken bones in his arm and leg, and splinted them. Without pain, and without an X-ray.

  "That's amazing," I said.

  "Just a little magic and medicine," Dr. Behr replied in a musical voice that reminded me of a mom from an old TV sitcom. "Mr. Thompson, you'll need to apply this ointment for the next few days to avoid infection."

  My dad tentatively accepted the tube of ointment from her paw-like hands. "Thank you."

  He'd looked awed and fearful the moment she'd come in, walking and talking like a human being, and had kept that same expression throughout the procedure.

  "The injection I gave you should take care of some of the aftereffects of traveling through the Divide, too. You should be feeling much better soon. Perhaps a little hungry. The broken bones might take another day or so to knit together. Call me if they aren't fully healed by the end of the week."

  "A day or so?" Dad frowned in obvious confusion.

  Grandpa Holli patted the healer on her shoulder. "Thank you so much for coming on short notice, Beatrice. We know how busy you are."

  "Yes, thank you." Abuelo's injuries appeared to be gone. He wasn't moving stiffly anymore, and his face wasn't swollen, either.

  "Of course, Holli. Emilio. Anytime." Beatrice collected her things before turning to face them again. "Now, if I could just collect my payment for services, I'll be on my way."

  "Of course." Grandpa Holli hurried to the kitchen, returning a minute later with a lunch sack clutched in his hands.

  "Payment in full, plus a little extra for you to share with Virgil." He handed it to her. "Prepared it just before you got here."

  Beatrice lifted the bag up and sniffed it once, her natural smile widening. "Wonderful. Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me."

  With a nod, she stomped out the front door, then stuck both her medical and the lunch bags between her teeth and barreled down the street on all fours.

  I stared after her until she was no longer in view. "What exactly was in that bag, Grandpa Holli?"

  "Smoked salmon pâté. Beatrice is independently wealthy, so money doesn't interest her, but she is quite the foodie. It was her favorite from my restaurant, so I trade it for medical services."

  "Let's get some air, Dad."

  He'd slept for nearly twenty-four hours, which wasn't bad. If I ever had to go through the Divide again, I was getting one of those shots from the healer. Not only that, but his broken arm and leg were mostly healed. He still had a slight limp and his shoulder was sore, but overall, he was much better.

  After a breakfast of crepes and fresh blueberries, prepared by Abuelo, Dad showered and changed into some of Grandpa Holli's clothes while his own were being washed. He looked clean and healthy, if still a little confused.

  "Some air? Out there?"

  "A quick stroll around the block, if you're up to it. We'll take Toby." I smiled in a way that I hoped reassured him.

  "All right. Let's go for a walk."

  Toby took point, sniffing every flower, gate, and mailbox we passed as Dad and I walked quietly alongside each other. We walked up the street to Dan Martindale's house, which I recognized immediately by its proximity to the mountain of soil, asphalt, sidewalk, and grass, the petrified worm carcasses, and, of course, the subdued cluster of lawn flamingos.

  Smarter than the gnomes, they hadn't taken the bait of the malodorous boysenberries during the worm horde, but they had witnessed the gnome carnage. The entire group was huddled under Dan's purple bougainvillea bushes. They didn't seem fearful so much as thoughtful—and sneaky.

  City workers in hazmat-like gear swept plaster red hats and black boots into dustpans and sprayed squished boysenberries and slimy worm guts into a dirty pile, from where they were shoveled into the back of one of several dump trucks.

  Just another day in Dead End.

  "This is quite a scene." Dad shoved his hands into the front pockets of his trousers.

  "Yeah."

  "Were you scared to face those things?"

  "Big time. But people were in danger. I couldn't just walk away knowing I might be able to help."

  "You're a natural white hat cowboy."

  "Like my dad," I said.

  We shared a smile and continued walking, avoiding eye contact with the flamingos, who turned as one as we passed by, tracking us with their beady black eyes. I made a note to never, ever disturb the altar in the sacred gardens.

  Teams of Dead Enders—non-humans and humans, all shapes and sizes and species—worked together to chop up petrified worm carcasses and push dirt back into the volcano-shaped mountain. Some used tools. Some used abilities.

  "I wonder where they're taking all this stuff," I said.

  "About forty miles northwest of here. They're burning it." He gestured to a funnel-shaped cloud of black smoke I hadn't noticed.

  "Eagle eyes."

  "We all have our abilities," he said.

  City Councilmembers Bert, Mr. Gale, and Mrs. Beeson were directing workers to the center of town, where there had also been damage. Mrs. Beeson had a thick sheaf of papers pinched into a large clipboard, and seemed to be doing most of the actual directing—being a high school secretary probably gave her an organizational edge over the others.

 
; Dad and I weaved through town, finally ending up at the park where Cindy and I had yelled ineffective warnings about the worms. We rested on a bench while Toby nosed around in the grass. The park was empty except for the Tai Chi group that always seemed to be around. I was starting to think they weren't doing Tai Chi at all, but something scarier, like conjuring a magical ward to protect us from something horrible I didn't want to know about.

  Dad sat up taller on the bench. "I can't stay here, Loops."

  "I know."

  He clasped his hands together. "With Kilshaw in custody, we don't have to worry about the agency anymore. No more running for our lives, no more cheap motels, no more day jobs. I could get my old job back. We could be a normal family again."

  "We were never normal, Dad."

  "Sure we were, Loops."

  "No, we weren't." I stared down at my clenched hands.

  "Fine. Maybe we weren't perfect, but we do love each other."

  Mom's face popped into my head, as clear as the last time I saw her. Over the years, I'd lost her by increments. She'd become more ephemeral to me than even Aedan at his most ghostly. But today she returned. I saw her soft smile, heard the gentle music of her voice, smelled her chocolate chip cookies, felt the warmth of the last hug she gave me.

  "Yes, we love each other."

  "Come home with me, Loops."

  Disappointing Dad was the last thing I wanted to do, but there was no way around it. It was time for him to accept that I was old enough to know what was best for me, even if he didn't agree. I only hoped he didn't hate me for it.

  "I can't. I have an ability—a strong one—and there are going to be times when I get angry or sad, or scared, and my earthmoving ability is going to rear up. If I keep it bottled like I always have, and don't learn how to control it properly, I'm going to do something I'll regret. Maybe I'll hurt someone again." I stared out at the Tai Chi group, which was now burning some sort of grass torch and chanting rhythmically. "I'll truly be the monster you see every time you look at me."

  "I don't see you as a monster. I admit, you scared me that day on the highway, but I never saw you as anything but my sweet girl. I was trying to follow your mom's last wishes, is all."

  I blinked back tears. "You hid me away in motel rooms and kept me caged in shame and fear, with an ability that feeds on those emotions. I could never win."

  "Sweetheart." He sounded so defeated I nearly stopped talking, but I had to get it out, had to make him understand why I couldn't return home with him.

  My voice was small and clogged with tears. "You don't cage a person, Dad. You cage a monster."

  Revulsion, self-directed, twisted his face. "Loops. I never meant to do that to you."

  "But you did, Dad."

  He lowered his head, dropping his face into his hands.

  "I understand now why you did it and I love you, but I can't go back to that life. I was scared all the time. And so lonely."

  "I'm sorry, honey."

  Toby brought me a tennis ball he'd unearthed from somewhere in the park.

  "I know." I picked up the ball, examined it to be sure it was safe for my dog to play with, then threw it. Toby took off after it like a bullet. "You have a life there, a job, friends. I don't have any of those things. But here in Dead End, I go to school, I have friends, and people don't see me as a freak or a threat because they're all different, like me."

  "You've been going to school?" He seemed surprised, but interested.

  "Yeah. My grandpas take me. I like my classes and I've made some friends."

  "You have a life here. People love you." He stood, extended a hand to me. "Of course, they do. You're just like your mother was. Smart and funny."

  I let him pull me to my feet. "Don't forget amazing."

  "How could I?"

  "And gorgeous."

  He chuckled. "Smart-ass."

  "Takes one to know one, as my dad always says."

  "Throwing my own words back at me. Can you believe the nerve of this girl, Toby?"

  My dog trotted proudly to Dad with the bright yellow tennis ball clutched between his jaws, tail wagging.

  My dad gave me a sideways grin. "Yorkshire terrier."

  I shook my head. "Norfolk terrier."

  "Bull terrier."

  This time I laughed. "In spirit maybe, but this guy is Cairn terrier through and through. I bet he'd even answer to ‘Toto' and let me carry him in a picnic basket."

  "Did Dorothy actually carry Toto in a picnic basket, though?"

  I shrugged. "Come to think of it, maybe not. I was bluffing anyway. Toby wouldn't get into a picnic basket unless the inside was slathered with peanut butter."

  Dad knelt to scratch under my dog's chin, his face turned away from me. "You're turning eighteen in a couple of months, Loops."

  "I know."

  "Practically an adult." He raked a hand through his hair. "Old enough to make your own decisions about your future."

  Was I? Eighteen seemed like this massive turning point, yet I couldn't imagine feeling much differently about my life than I do now. In a way, it was like I had just started my life—as if the day my dad sent me through the portal into the One Way Café was my real birthday.

  "I'm going to miss you."

  This was it. He'd accepted it. He was letting me go. Why did that make me feel so awful, and so happy at the same time?

  "I'm going to miss you too. You can come visit, you know. All you need is a café card." I smiled through a mist of tears.

  He stood, opened his arms. I dove into them. I might be mature enough to make my own decisions about my life, but I was always going to need my dad.

  "Take care of my books." I sniffed. "If I come visit, I'll be looking for them."

  "I will."

  "And make sure you cook for yourself. Eating out all the time isn't good for you."

  "Got it."

  "Also, don't take too much overtime, make sure you get plenty of rest. Oh, and—"

  "Loops." He squeezed me a little tighter. "I'll be fine. Just like you will."

  A group of people dressed in gardening gear filed into the park. One of them towed a large wagon crowded with plastic pots containing leafy plants and colorful flowers. The flowers had yellow and orange petals like a sunflower, and a dark brown center. Within the center of each one, was a tiny face. It looked a little like a baby—and sounded like an angry one.

  The gardeners picked up the flowerpots and cradled them. Some sang lullabies.

  "You absolutely sure you want to stay in this strange place?" Dad stared hard at the gardeners. "Squalling sunflowers, bear healers, giant worms, and all?"

  Cindy and her mother rushed into the park. They were dressed similarly to the other gardeners, and were dragging another wagon crammed with gardening tools, a pile of dark brown soil, and four watering cans with large spouts.

  "Here, Cindy. Hurry, please." Mrs. Gale pointed to a patch of dirt.

  "Got it, Mom."

  Once she'd dug a hole big enough, Mrs. Gale handed her one of the sobbing flowers. Cindy cooed at it as she gently cut away the plastic pot. She then set the flower into the ground, covered it with fresh soil, and showered it with water from one of the watering cans. The flower immediately stopped crying.

  I had to learn more about those flowers.

  Cindy looked over at me and waved. I waved back.

  "I'm sure." I took out the café card Laverne had given to me. Handed it to him.

  "What's this?"

  "Just in case you decide you miss me too much and need to get back here. You remember the way to the One Way Café, right?"

  "Yes, I do." He tucked it into his shirt pocket. Right next to his heart. "Thanks, Loops."

  39

  "So, the flamingos have settled down?"

  Cindy, Toby, and I were sharing a booth and a plate of French fries at the One Way Café. Aside from Laverne and the two guys who just stomped in, we were the only customers in the place. The jukebox was rolling through the
nineties. There was a mix of songs I recognized from the oldies station back home and some, including Smells Like Exploded Limpid Larvae, that I was sure had never been released on the other side of the Divide.

  "That's what I heard. Mr. Martindale told my dad that the flamingos are being a lot nicer to him since the worms ate all the gnomes," Cindy replied. "They've been trimming his hedges, and yesterday they brought his mail right to the—"

  "You're still upset? I apologized for burning the chair. How long are you going to give me the silent treatment?"

  Aedan slid into the seat Toby and I were sharing. Samuel scooted in next to Cindy, crossed his arms over his chest, and glared at Aedan. After a moment, his gaze shifted to Toby, who blinked back at him.

  "No bacon?" Samuel asked.

  Toby's ears peaked at the word. He yipped twice.

  "Coming right up," Laverne called out from the kitchen.

  "Thanks a lot," I said, to Samuel. "He's supposed to be starting his diet today."

  "You owe me for having to put up with this one."

  Aedan helped himself to a few of our fries. "I'm no trouble. You're exaggerating."

  "What did you do?" I stared hard at him.

  "Nothing. Samuel's making it sound worse than it is."

  "What's this about a burned chair?" Cindy asked.

  Aedan grabbed a few more fries. "Nothing. It wasn't that big a deal."

  "What did you do?" I repeated.

  "Do you have a few hours?" Samuel grumbled.

  "Look, I'll pay you back for everything. You have my word."

  "With what money?"

  Aedan's brows drew together, his expression thoughtful. "Oh yeah, I'm broke. That's going to make paying you back a bit more challenging."

  "A bit?" Samuel ground out the words. "I'm one more singed lampshade away from kicking your ass, Sterling."

  "Come on, you know it wasn't intentional."

  "Enough." I slapped Aedan's hand when he tried to sneak another fry. "I know he can be a handful, but there's no need for violence. Besides, if we discuss every one of his recent screw-ups, we'll be here all day."

  "Not cool." Aedan scowled. I shot him a look and he piped down, shoved another fry into his mouth.