Did he seriously call the police because I wasn’t home? No, he realized, it would be because he wasn’t home and he was with Aly. From the assembly though, it seemed like something more serious than boy meets girl, boy takes girl hiking for wood beast, boy shames family. There was a fear that Lee’s drinking once again caught up to his heart. The thought that Mary-Agnes crippled from a diabetes complication was sickening.
A faint hope flitted that his brothers were lost at sea, rather than a gathering ready to humiliate him. With a glance across the docks, he knew it wasn’t the case. Otherwise, there’d be a hoard of orange- vested locals boasting the self-appointed titles of volunteer search and rescue. The boat of a sea warden was nowhere in sight.
Noah hadn’t seen anything like it since he was ten, when Vega Kelley-Young tried to hide Luke in her car to leave his stepfather. Sam grabbed the stocky woman by her frizzy hair, dragging her from the seat and into the road. When Luke jumped out, running to his mother’s side, Sam yanked him to the ground by the shoulder.
The sight, especially as a kid watching from his yard, was frightening. Noah had run into the street, asking his friend if he wanted to come inside until the fighting was over or stay the night. Sam hauled Luke into the car, pinned against the steering wheel, slamming the door shut at the boy’s feet. When he stalked back, he slapped Noah across the face, spewing profanity and making threats over what he called ‘his damned property’. Already sprinting to break it up, Lee decked Sam Young so hard he rolled under his car after hitting the cement, as though he slipped on ice.
After consoling Vega and senselessly sending her home to reconcile her marriage to an oppressor she believed needed for a home and a paycheck, Lee did something Noah never saw again: he asked his wife if she loved him. She offered a ‘yes-I-do-and-howcould-you-doubtit’ reply. Afterwards, Lee took Mary-Agnes in his arms, burrowing into her chubby sides with the embrace, gave her a loud kiss, and helped her toddle to the hallway, disappearing in the bathroom.
Luke did end up staying the night. In old blankets and lump cot pads dragged from the closet, they slept in front of the television – a rare luxury. The boys didn’t talk about it until the next morning, when playing on the widow’s walk in secret.
“Someday one of us is going to kill him,” Luke said, rolling a miniature skateboard over the ledge. Noah didn’t say a word, knowing he’d find the model in the bushes later. “Then he’ll wish he let us go.”
Noah’s eyes widened. “You or me?”
“No, stupid – me or Mom.” It was no surprise the woman was a hunter, between being too poor to feed her son by traditional means and being an eternal victim with pent-up aggression. What was surprising is why she stayed in the few safe opportunities to leave– like a fishing trip, or his annual boy’s nights out of town.
That and the fact that she operates every big-game rifle legal in the state of Alaska. Aly slowed, observing the chaos with unanimous confusion. With the focus obviously centered on Yazzie’s, it wasn’t like someone had dropped dead in the other shops. The chances were that it could be anybody, lung collapsing over breakfast, heart attack in a booth, tripping over a forgotten wet floor sign.
But it’s not anybody’s family. It’s mine. The tape around the road’s bars grabbed his attention as they passed, a multi-purpose tow truck dragging an all too familiar panel van from Yazzie’s side-yard. Something dropped in his stomach, his anxiety arresting. He winced as muscles involuntarily tensed, and blurted, “Aly, pull over. Please.”
“Your arm -” she began, before sneaking a glance at his expression. Swallowing, she nodded slowly, pulling into the grocer’s driveway.
He unbuckled as carefully as panic allowed, awkwardly climbing from the cab. She met him at the back to support the other side of his limp as he crossed the road.
Sarah sat in a chair as the volunteer worked over her, surprisingly not Jacob. A pale cloud of foam covered her neck, her hand gripping the plastic arms as stiches were woven over a seeping skull wound. Suddenly within earshot, little details slammed through his shock. He moved through the small crowd, leaving Aly to blink at the scene, unable to form words.
“They’re saying she packed a bag and booked it.”
“No, seriously, the kid was running away.”
“– was running away…”
“…just ran off.”
“… guess she got lost on the road.”
“Anthony was drivin’ her home, I suppose.” “…bringing her back… drunk and swerving…”
“…couldn’t believe the noise! I came runnin’ and there they were, smoking and all sorts…” The commentaries went on. Though overwhelming, he realized they were coming from the same two or three loudmouths, the rest staring, the sight shock and awe. Muffled whispers about whiplash and braces explained the white mass around his sister’s head. A free hand gripping his arm, he approached Tony’s chair in a near-limp, seething.
He spat, “My sister’s in a neck brace, you asshole.” “Language,” Tony warned, his voice irritated. “I was trying to help her. She was five miles out of town, walking towards nothin’ for thirty. It’s real’ good we were close to home. Didn’t curb ‘til I got to Lee’s.”
“Nothing about this is good, Tony.” He released his shoulder to raise a hand in frustration.
“It’s all how you look at it.” “I’m looking at the fact that my sister could have died!” Noah insisted, leaning above him. He pointed angrily at the surf, his good arm jerking as he mined the horrific images slamming through his thought. “Two feet, and you would have been off that dock. She could have drowned. She could have been crushed. You could have passed out. She’s fifteen, Tony. What the hell would she do with an unconscious old man and a moving vehicle? What would she do belted to a warped truck twenty feet under water that you can’t even see through?”
“She was fine!” Tony hollered, pushing himself up in his seat before sinking back into a dazed stare. Noah swallowed, backing away as he simmered.
“I am the only person, the only person in this entire town, who has ever stuck up for you. I tell everyone, ‘Tony’s a good guy. He’s just rough on the edges. He’s more responsible that he looks.’ I defended you, I trusted you, but you’re an idiot. You’re just a drunk, just like everyone else.”
“I’m not like them,” Tony muttered, fumbling in his shirt pockets for a cigarette. “You should have called me!” Noah yelled, red crawling across his neck. He balled the available hand into a fist, stomach churning, chest pounding.
He knew even if Tony had, he wouldn’t have known. He was too far out of town, and even then the cell towers were shifty. He hadn’t been there for his sister. If Tony hadn’t found her, when would they have known she was gone? She could have gotten lost in the woods, run in with a bear, spent the night on the road, dragged into the vehicle of a stranger with nauseating intentions. He didn’t even know she had considered leaving.
But Sarah was in a neck brace because Tony picked her up fully knowing he was intoxicated.
Even though he could have hurt her. Even though he did. Noah watched him struggle to weasel a lighter from his pocket, the man wheezing so heavily you’d think he’d be seeking an inhaler. He smelled like booze and cigarettes. His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing tattoos and scars. A scarred belly rose between the open flaps. The long ponytail was pulled away from his receding hairline, mangled. He sported the same stained clothes he wore the last time Noah had seen him.From the dirt running over his skin like a girl’s makeup after tears and blackened palms, it certainly looked like he hadn’t showered in longer.
Sickened, Noah’s shoulder throbbed under his hand.
“You know what, Tony? I need to get to the clinic. I have to go. I can’t even look at you right now.” “Yeah, yes. The arm. It looks busted. Looks, looks… Look, boy, I’m just a bit skunked. I’ll be fine in the morning. I’ll ‘pologize then, alright? I need you out of my face, now.”
“It’s ten in the morning,” Noah
m uttered, feeling disgusted as he gave him a last glance. Between the burning pulsation of his wounded limb and the crushing disappointment, he needed an escape. “I’m so done.”
“I said I was sorry, man,” Tony began, the wide circles of his dazed eyes rolling from behind heavy wrinkles to meet Noah’s gaze, instead finding his back as he walked away. “I’m sorry! Don’t leave, boy. I’m sorry! Rob! Rob!”
Noah stopped in his tracks, turning in time to catch Tony fall from his seat and look up from the ground. Rob was his adopted son, a teenage white boy found in a slum with a nasty addiction, the same that ran off the day he turned eighteen. He disappeared with Noah’s aunt, Lee’s little sister Maria, and never looked back.
There were rumors of drug addictions, but according to Lee, they didn’t hear another word until Sarah was born. That was supposedly vague and brief.
The old man’s finally lost it. He continued to walk and ignored Henry Davis’s concerned stare at his makeshift sling as they traded places. The sandy-haired, middle-aged volunteer paramedic applied antiseptic and butterfly stitches the cuts across Tony Gabriel’s forehead.
At his back, he could hear drunken curses at the sting of cleanser. To his right, Sarah whimpered as Lee and Mark carefully lifted her at the elbows from the chair they had dragged to the sidewalk. Noah gave her a look that spoke for him, informing his sister of the talk they would have later. It also conveyed the thousand silent apologies churning in his chest.
Aly murmured a few more words to Sarah, a reddish white spreading across her pale knuckles as their hands squeezed upon parting. She looked back and forth between Noah and Henry as she approached, meeting him mid-stride to the car.
“Did you still want to go to the clinic?”
“I think it’s a good idea. This thing is killing me, and everyone’s stretched pretty thin here.” “Okay,” She responded slowly, nibbling her lip as she glanced at the car. “I’ve still got a few weeks to transfer my license to Alaska, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”
“It’s an emergency anyway, hardly questionable.” He smiled through a wince, brushing her cheek with a free hand.
I can’t take this out on her. This is all my fault.
She blinked, shaking her head. “You’re right – let’s get that looked at.”
CHAPTER 19 | ALYSON
“Yes, I’m sure I’m fine,” Noah murmured, eyes closed. “We’re almost there anyway.” Every time he spoke, Noah sounded as dazed as he did halfdead. It wasn’t alarming until she glanced his way. Face twisted in agony, a hand on his shoulder, he slumped against the window.
I forced him to go up there… he got hurt protecting me.
Worried and guilty, she continued, “Are you sure you’re sure?”
He sighed. “Aly, I was up all night. I’m honestly just tired.”
He hasn’t yawned once, and he was running through the woods like a jaguar. “I believe you,” she lied, her voice low. “I know what happened to Sarah has got to be really overwhelming… It might help if you… Just… Just keep talking.”
“What do you want me to say?” he mumbled, grimacing with another wave of pain.
Why didn’t he look like this when we were three yards from a paramedic?
“Tell me one of your stories,” Aly pleaded, eager for a reassurance that he was conscious. “Tell me of the sun thieves.” “There once was a wise man,” Noah said, “Who told his village about the worth of all people.”
~
With the clinic’s waiting -room-coffee in hand, Aly found comfort in the heated Styrofoam. The little stand on wheels across from her was the only warmth in the room.
Between waiting for Noah and being acutely aware of Greg’s unprovoked argument with the receptionist, her stress went from tangible to all-encompassing in a few minutes.
In her peripheral, she wasn’t sure if her father noticed her yet. Aly watched him accept a clipboard to sign something before handing it back. After a moment, Greg shoved through the tinted glass doors, eyes locking on Aly. As he approached, she lounged back in her chair, resting her head against the chilled wall.
“So,” she offered, head lolling to make eye contact. “Did you burn Maggie’s house down or something?” He mumbled something to himself, dropping in the seat at her side. Audible, he added, “Believe it or not, Alyson, I’ve only ever had eyes for your mother. I’ve loved Vanessa since we were children.”
“Try telling the good doctor that.” She smirked, before adding, “Well, I already did. Didn’t go over so well.”
“Alyson,” he groaned, as though her name was an inconvenient diagnosis, “are you always this difficult about everything?”
Is this the elusive face of an embarrassed Greg Glass?
She shrugged, staring at the ceiling. “Soon enough, you won’t have to worry about it.”
His brow knitted, alarmed. “How do you expect me to take that?”
“My eighteenth birthday,” she notified. “Almost here, almost gone.”
He shifted, scratching his neck. Clearing his throat, he mumbled, “That’s not necessary, Alyson-”
“It is,” she interrupted. “How long have you known about the wood beast?” He paused, evaluating how seriously she took the question. Seeming pleased, he straightened, explaining, “When I was working at the university in Albany. I was driving a scenic route, headed back to Kingsley, through the Adirondack Park. He crossed the road, right in front of my highbeams… I was already studying biology at that point, very invested in a myriad of subspecialties. I was alarmed, intrigued, fascinated… it wasn’t anything like I’d seen before, or have seen since.”
Rage filled her chest, slamming against the hurt already welling. “If that thing is back home, why come here? To the most random...” She stopped, unwilling to finish her sentence, unsure of what satisfaction it would offer. What could she say?
Do you have any idea how small and remote Ashland, Alaska is? Did you personally pick the spot furthest away from us? Did you really hate us that much?
"We all run, Aly."
“Clearly, it was not far enough,” Aly replied, despising the weakness in her voice. Fidgeting, he brushed off her comment. “Alyson, no matter how difficult this seems… it’s irrelevant to the issue at hand. I’d appreciate if you could stay focused for one minute.” His voice was on edge, filled with a sudden impatience. “The fact of the matter is that your behavior, recently, in general, it’s been unacceptable. You were perfectly well-behaved until you were involved with Lee Locklear’s son, and now you’ve not only disrespected me, but you’ve lost a lot of credit with the local people for the entire corporation. As I’ve said in the past, this is my life’s work. I don’t know if you can understand this, but our relationships, even interpersonal, with the elders of this area are extremely valuable. Very rarely is any information shared. Now they’re practically up in arms, because of you. I frankly have to ask you to reconsider your current arrangements and associations–”
You have got to be kidding me. Suppressing a hurricane of rage, Aly took a deep breath. Sounding exasperated, she interjected, “Greg, I am not going to stop seeing Noah.”
He deadpanned, his expression twisting into bewilderment. He looked as though she spoke in an extraterrestrial language and grew a third eye. “You’re what?”
“Not for you, and especially not for your job. No offense.” Aly continued, ignoring him. “I’m not interested in playing games or making face. I’ve seen that thing twice with documentation, heard it a third time, and to tell you the truth, your people suck, especially when it comes to investigation. I mean, Rowley’s cool-”
“The intern?”
“Inevitably and uncompromising,” Aly finished, “the answer is no. Take it for what it is.”
A red line curled down his forehead, his neck taut with veins. He spat, "Do you think you love him?"
Her jaw set. She straightened her shoulders, challenging, "What if I did?"
"You've only known him
for a weekend!" Five days. Five days was enough to change everything. "Then why did you ask?" she sighed, rolling her eyes. "Seriously, Greg? I can't tell if you’re really that manipulative or just stupid. You can't ask the unanswerable and expect me to marvel in your greatness. I'm not a child anymore; I don't revere the ghost of my father to anything or anyone."
"I'm manipulative? What about this entire feat you’re pulling?"
She groaned, covering her face with the hand that wasn't cradling her coffee.
"That's it then, isn't it? It's a hoax." He blew a raspberry, slumping in the seat at her side.
She tucked a curl behind her ear. Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on her knee, switching the Styrofoam cup to another hand. "I'm going to say this slowly, so you can understand me, for the last time. It is not a hoax, it is evidence that you can choose to utilize or disregard, and at this point, I don't care. All I care about is the boy on the table, in the room with the real doctors."
He swallowed. An Adam's apple bobbed in his skinny neck. "You have my full attention, and that's all you have to say to me?" She threw a hand up, pointedly staring at the ceiling as though it could offer sympathy. "I really don't know what you expect me to say. I don't know what you want me to feel, or do. I have no freaking idea what you want from me. I tried. Now it doesn’t matter, and I'm going to be okay with that, even if it's not today." Voice thick with sarcasm, she finished, "You failed me, and I guess I failed you. Funny, how life works."
"I don't know what you're talking about." "When they told me what you did, and then I heard it, and I saw that thing... I thought for a second, maybe there was something there I'd missed, something I'd given up on a long time ago: a genuine passion for something bigger than us. Finally, a reason you left that wasn't my fault– like maybe it wasn't something I did wrong. It wasn't me. It didn't have to be me."
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