Wrecked and Yours

by James, CeeCee

“You’re freaking out,” Cassie said matter-of-factly. She reached into the bag and pulled out one of the pies. “Take a bite,” she commanded, holding it to Miranda’s mouth.

  Miranda bit into it and the apple filling exploded like a sugar bomb. Slowly, she chewed and swallowed.

  She studied her sister, so small for her age, and reached out to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. “Thank you Cassie,” she whispered.

  “I’m glad you’re better. Now let’s go get my dog.”

  Poppy was right where they’d left her, curled in the grass by a flowerbed. She came running when Cassie called her and jumped into her arms.

  “My sweet baby.” Cassie smothered her in kisses.

  They ate their food under the trees at the corner of the grocery store parking lot. That night they slept in a plastic playhouse in another back yard, refilling the bottles and cups before they headed back to the woods in the morning.

  ***

  That had happened four days ago. They’d chanced a visit to town two more times. On one trip, Miranda went into a bakery as it was closing, and asked for any day-old goods. The baker had eyed her suspiciously but gave her two donuts. He followed Miranda out to the sidewalk as she left, and saw Cassie with the dog.

  “Hey you!” he’d called to Cassie. “What’s your name?”

  They’d both taken off running then, afraid they’d been recognized. After that, Miranda was extremely nervous to return to town.

  On the night of her dad’s funeral, driven by desperation, it’d seemed possible they could find their own way. Maybe even make it to the city. But now, in the heat, with no water and no food, she wasn’t sure.

  Cassie’s face beaded with sweat that she wiped with the back of her arm. Miranda worried about the dark circles under her eyes. “It’s so hot,” she panted.

  “I know, Chickee.”

  “I’m sorry for complaining,” Cassie said.

  “You don’t have to be sorry,” Miranda kissed the top of Cassie’s head. Her hair was warm and smelled of grass. “This sucks. I know it. Why don’t we rest in this field for a bit?”

  Cassie wandered off with Poppy, while Miranda sat in the grass. The sun was directly overhead; its heat unrelenting.

  Sweat snaked down to the edge of her lip. It hung there for a moment before her tongue flicked it away. Hopelessness held her in place, and she allowed the sun to bake her remaining strength away, even as it massaged her sore muscles. Her fingers twitched in the grass.

  A grasshopper landed on her knee. Miranda barely had the strength to be startled. It regarded her with its beady eyes before zipping off again, its wings rasping like a saw.

  Miranda lifted her head with difficulty and searched for her sister. There she was, running, laughing. Where did she get that energy?

  Get up, get up, she told herself. But why? Where was she going to go? Get your butt up before I kick it. She snorted, the sound soft and weak. She was really losing it, threatening to kick her own butt.

  The clouds overhead were small, too puny to battle the sun. Slowly, she closed her eyes and melted into the steady whine of a thousand beating insect wings all around her.

  Almost asleep.

  She saw her dad walking through the waist-tall grass towards her. Her dad? A dream then. He pointed in the direction of Cassie.

  “It’s not fair, Dad!” Miranda pounded on the ground with her fist. “I can’t do this any more!” An idea flitted through her mind of dropping Cassie off at the police station. It was the only way she could save her. Immediately, she saw Uncle Vince. “I can’t save her from him!” she yelled at her dad. “I can’t save her at all!”

  He smiled, the same encouraging one he’d given her when she had to pull out her first tooth. You’ve got this, his eyes said.

  “I don’t, Dad, I don’t.” She shook her head in denial. “You don’t understand. We’re going to die out here. I’m going to hurt her, too.”

  He continued to point at Cassie as his image flickered into transparency. She cried when she could see the grass waving through him. “Don’t go, Daddy. I need you! Please!”

  He was a shadow.

  Then he was gone.

  Miranda sat up and rubbed her face. She looked over at Cassie spinning in circles. I’m not going to let it happen. “Cassie!” Her dry throat croaked. She cleared it. “Cassie!”

  Her sister glanced over. “Are you better?”

  Miranda stood shakily. “Yeah, I am a bit.”

  “I knew you would be. He told me so.”

  Goosebumps trickled down Miranda’s arm. “Dad?”

  “Don’t be silly.” Cassie circled one of her arms around her sister’s waist for a quick hug. “Guy told me.”

  Miranda froze. What the heck was her sister saying?

  Cassie held something in her other hand that she ate in big, hurried bites. “Want a bite?” she offered.

  “Cassie? Who’s Guy?”

  “That kid over there.” Cassie pointed.

  Miranda turned.

  A dark-haired teenage boy stood at the edge of the field.

  She backed up, shocked for a moment, and then marched over to him.

  “Who are you and what did you give my sister?” She had to look up because he was about six inches taller.

  “I think it’s called a Twinkie,” he answered back, the corner of his mouth twitching.

  “She said your name is Guy. What kind of name is that?”

  “Yeah, I’m just a guy.”

  “Miranda, be nice,” Cassie said anxiously.

  “So.” The kid lowered his worn backpack to the ground. “What are you two doing here?”

  “Here?”

  “Yeah, here.” He spun his hands in two spirals. “In the great outdoors. In the middle of nowhere.”

  “What does it matter?”

  The kid rolled his eyes. “It matters, okay. What are you running from?”

  “Who says we’re running?”

  “Wow, what do you think I am, stupid? Two girls out in the woods looking like they’ve been dragged behind a garbage truck. You’re running all right.”

  She eyed his black Metallica t-shirt and torn jeans. “Well you don’t look that great yourself. So, why do you want to know?”

  “I like to know what I’m dealing with.”

  “Who says you’ll be dealing with anything?”

  Cassie’s head swiveled back and forth like she was watching a tennis match. “Well, it’s like this,” she butted in.

  “Cassie shush,” Miranda said crossly.

  “We’re running from our uncle,” Cassie blurted out.

  “Cassie!” Miranda yelled.

  “I’m sorry! I just can’t stand the fighting. He’s a nice guy.”

  “Why, because he gave you a Twinkie?” Miranda frowned.

  “Yes.” Cassie smiled. “And it was good.”

  “An uncle, huh?” The kid nodded. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

  “Yeah,” Miranda crossed her arms. “What about you?”

  “Oh, it’s the mob.” He pushed his hair off his forehead where it hung, wet with sweat. “Yeah, the mob, with a bunch of storm troopers thrown in.”

  “Wow, are you for real?” Miranda rolled her eyes.

  “Hey, you didn’t trust me,” he shrugged. “Why should I trust you?”

  “Dude, really?”

  “Where are your parents? Share that, and maybe I’ll share something back.”

  Miranda scowled at him. “This isn’t, ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.’ I don’t really care why you’re on the run.”

  He shook the canteen back and forth, making the water slosh inside. “That’s not what I was offering to share.”

  She licked her lips. Crap, her mouth felt like it was shriveling just hearing the water slosh.

  “Parents?” he asked again.

  “Gone,” she whispered, then lunged for the canteen. He frowned and handed it to her.

  Cassie teared up at the word Gone. Sh
e buried her face in Poppy’s fur and walked away from them.

  Miranda took a big drink to hide the tears in her own eyes. For crying out loud, be tough. Don’t break now. After a few chugs she thrust the canteen back at the kid. “I’ll be right back,” she muttered. Then she followed Cassie.

  “I miss Dad so much.” Cassie’s face was pinched from grief. Miranda grabbed her into her arms.

  “I’ll take care of you, Cassie, I’ll never leave you.”

  “Mom and Dad didn’t think they’d be leaving us either.”

  “I know Chickee, I know. But I’m here now.”

  “What if you leave too?”

  “Shh, don’t worry.” Miranda rocked her. She noticed the front of her shirt, marked with droplets of tears. “Hey, look. It seems like I found the one rain cloud in the sky.”

  Cassie grimaced. “Oh gross.” She lifted the bottom of her shirt and wiped her face.

  “That’s better.” Miranda gave her a hug. “Let’s go back and see if ‘Guy’ has any more food for us.”

  “He’s not a creep, Miranda. He’s nice.”

  “We don’t know that yet.”

  Guy was waiting where they’d left him, carving on a stick. He blew the shavings off and stood up. “Come on, I’ve got something to show you."

  They followed him into the woods. He led them as if by instinct through the maze of trees. Miranda’s converse caught on a roots and she tripped, scraping herself against a tree’s rough bark. Can’t believe I’m following this kid to God knows where. He waited for a second to make sure she was okay, then continued moving forward. After twenty minutes or so they came to a camp, hidden by a fallen fir. The tent was a tarp tied between saplings, swept clean underneath.

  Stooping over, he pushed his sleeves up to expose muscular arms, and stacked a pile of kindling into a pyramid in the center of a ring of stones. He held a lighter at the base of it. After a few seconds, tendrils of grey smoke wove through the sticks and flames burst forth.

  Miranda stood next to him, feeling awkward. She watched the sun sink into the horizon. Was he inviting them to stay? Where the heck were they going to sleep if he did? All cuddled up together under the tarp?

  “I lived with my Grandma,” the kid began without looking up. “When she died, I didn’t have anyone else.”

  Miranda’s eyes widened, letting his words sink in. “No one?” she asked.

  “My mom died a meth addict. Never knew my dad.” The kid snapped a stick in two and fed it into the fire. After a moment, he lifted it and stared at the flaming end.

  “I’m sorry,” Miranda whispered.

  The kid chucked the stick into the fire and studied her with his green eyes. He held out his hand. “Name’s Jason.”

  She eyed his calloused hand for a second, then reached out to shake it. “Miranda,” she said.

  Chapter Four Present Day

  Miranda set the notebook back on the bed and looked numbly out the window. So many memories she’d forgotten. Her youth had faded into an emotionless outline, something to be trotted out from time to time when someone asked about her past. “When I was five my mother died. I lost my father in a car accident. I had a pervy uncle. I raced across the state with my ten-year-old sister to keep her safe. Somehow, we made it.”

  Cassie was eighteen now. How could time have gone by so fast? Guilt ran like sewage inside her. Some hero she was, sitting like a coward in her old room while her sister fought for her life in ICU.

  She stood and walked over to the dresser with her suitcase to put what little was there in the drawers. Downstairs she heard the faucet turn on, and then a pan slam on the stove. Jason was either really clumsy, or making his anger known.

  After shutting the drawer, she walked into the connected pink bathroom. She stared at her face while washing her hands. Tired lines, lines she’d never noticed before, dragged her face down. For crying out loud, she was only twenty-two. She felt so old. So very old, and wrung-out.

  Miranda shook the excess water off her hands and searched for a towel. Finding none, she dried them on the front of her skirt. Girl, you are falling apart. Get your game face on.

  “I’m going now,” she told herself. She’d delayed as long as she could. That familiar pit of dread rolled deep inside; shame to face what she’d done. The moment was here now.

  She was terrified.

  Downstairs, she heard Jason stomp through the kitchen. Judging by the familiar squeak of the floorboards, he was standing near the fridge. She could faintly hear him talking to the dog, something about dinner. Just that word made her stomach clench. When was the last time she’d eaten? This morning? No, yesterday, a package of potato chips at the gas station.

  Miranda walked down to the kitchen, her footfalls reverberating on the stairs. Jason didn’t look up as she entered. Not a good sign.

  "She wanders back in," he muttered, flipping the sandwich he was grilling. "Do you ever settle down?"

  Her stomach growled. "I did, with you. For a little while, we were like a family." A lump grew in her throat. If only Uncle Stew were here. But you couldn't rely on people. They always left, just like her parents had.

  Jason ignored her answer and reached into the cupboard to grab a plate. Miranda’s eye caught the yellow flower pattern encircled with a line of brown, and more memories flooded. CRAP! She whirled around. What the heck was she thinking coming back here? She grabbed her keys and darted out the back door that led to the long porch.

  Why am I here? I should have just gone straight to the hospital. She hung on to the porch rail and looked out at the lake. I’m such an idiot. Behind her came the scratch of a dog’s nails on the wooden decking. She turned around expecting Archer.

  It was Jason, with the dog by his side.

  He shifted his weight to one foot and the movement made her glance at his hands. They held a plate with a grilled cheese, the cheese melting down the sides of the bread. “Here.” He handed the plate to her. He still wouldn’t meet her eyes.

  “I don’t want to eat your food.” But hunger made her reach her hand out.

  “Take it. It’s just a sandwich, for crying out loud. It don’t mean I like you.” A flicker of a smile crossed his lips, the one Miranda had always loved.

  She had to choke back the happy sound that immediately came up. It reminded her of watching “Hook,” when one of the lost boys finally recognized Peter in the wrinkled, adult face. “There you are, Jason,” she whispered, lost in the moment.

  “What?” His face snapped back into his original scowl. She met his eyes, green under frowning dark eyebrows, and her heart jumped. She had to be careful. She didn’t know him anymore.

  “Nothing. Um, thanks, Jason,”

  “You and me.” He pointed between them. “We’re not friends.” He went back inside, shutting the door behind him.

  Archer stood there with his head tipped. She tore off a corner of her sandwich and held out the crust. “Maybe you want to be my friend?”

  He sauntered over to sniff the bread, then delicately took it from her fingers. She squatted to scratch his ears. “I bet you miss Cassie, don’t you?” He sniffed her hair and face, before giving her cheek a polite lick.

  The slider opened again and Jason’s tan, bare foot stepped out. “Hey. Don’t be feeding Archer. He’s a dog, he gets dog food.”

  Archer panted a dog smile up at her.

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “Come on Archer. Get in here.” The dog scurried in, and Jason started to shut the door.

  “Wait. I need to talk to you.”

  “So, now that I fed you, you think we’re buddies? Just like the first time I met you.”

  His words stung. “I wasn’t friends with you because you fed me.”

  “What do you want, Miranda?” he asked in a monotone.

  “I’m leaving for the hospital. But I just wanted to let you know I’ll be staying here, at least for a little while,” Miranda answered.

  “Jason?”


  “I heard. What do you mean, ‘a little while’?”

  “Just a—“

  His voice came low and muffled. “What do you think, you can just waltz back in here, move in, and act like you didn’t leave us two years ago?”

  “Wh… I—“

  “You knew me, knew my fears…”

  “Look, I’ve got to get to the hospital. Do we have to get into this now?”

  Jason leaned out of the doorway. She’d seen that expression before. Fury.

  “I swear, Miranda, you better get away from me. There’s no telling what I’m about to say.”

  Miranda nodded and took a step back. He scowled at her before slamming the door. As she walked towards the car she could hear him cursing.

  Well… that went well.

  Chapter Five Present Day

  Miranda pulled into the hospital parking garage and maneuvered up the switchback ramp. Gah! She hated parking garages, hated the tiny stalls, and most of all, hated hospitals.

  She finally found an open space and jockeyed her jeep in. Upon opening the door, a blast of hot air and exhaust assaulted her. It had been two years since she’d last been at the hospital. That was the week that she’d left.

  Slamming the door shut, she felt for the alarm button on her key fob and pressed it until she heard the reassuring beep. Then, straightening her shoulders, she walked to the elevator, the confident click of her heels in stark contrast to the fear she felt inside.

  She knew her way to the ICU. She remembered it from last time. The nurse at the nurse’s station was different than the one from two years ago when Uncle Stew died, but the smell of the unit was the same— sharp odors of antiseptic and bleach.

  Clenching her purse strap, her forehead creased as as wave of anxiety nearly pushed her off her feet. Her baby sister was here in this awful place. Irrationally, Miranda didn’t want to go see her, as if seeing her in the hospital bed would make it all real.

  “Can I help you?” The nurse looked over the computer monitor.

  Miranda shook her head. How long had she been standing there like a zombie?

  “Cassie Temple’s room?”