by Leanne Davis
“Has the death toll risen?” he asked his mom quietly.
She shook her head, and Jacob let out a deep sigh. The girl. The dark-haired one, was alive the last time he saw her.
He followed his mom and Joey into the room to watch the TV coverage. It was on every station and streaming in some format or another. There were pictures of the town, the café’s front door, and glimpses into the unbroken window. Jacob’s stomach churned when he recognized the overturned chairs and broken dishes he saw in the middle of it.
Pictures of all eight victims were provided with brief biographies that included their names and previous jobs, along with testimonials from their friends and family members who were left behind. It twisted his guts. What if it were him? It could have been his family, grieving for him like the ones on television. Hailey leaned over and grabbed his hand as if she too considered that.
All of a sudden, there he was on camera. Crap. Old pictures of him, the announcement of his name and his only reason for fame. There were the soundbites he personally made. But thankfully, he didn’t appear to be a cocky bastard or an incoherent idiot. There was nothing egotistic or vain about his “heroic deed.” Nothing about the situation felt too heroic, however, no matter how many lives he saved and how many injuries he may have prevented. Eight murders were committed in the brief span of five minutes.
He shifted around, distinctly growing uncomfortable with hearing about himself and receiving all the attention. Some of the eyewitness accounts about him hit a new high. It stunned him when the “hero” label was embraced by so many people in reference to his actions.
Hailey shook her head, fresh tears in her eyes. “Oh, Jacob. This is…so heartwarming. Hard to take in all at once.”
He nodded. “It’s pretty unbelievable.”
Jacob clicked the TV off. “I can’t watch it any longer. The hero praise is great, but I can’t forget that eight people are dead. That little baby, that baby cried and cried. She could have been another victim. She was so vulnerable and trapped and I couldn’t get to her to save her.” He shook his head. “It’s hard to consider it a happy story. It’s not happy. Not even my part in it.”
Joey and his mom nodded, and silence descended. Joey said, “What you did is noteworthy, Jacob, and it counts for plenty. You deserve all the acclaim you receive. And I am glad to see you’re not letting it go to your head. You’re also aware of what other people lost. Be proud, Jacob. You’re becoming the man you were raised to be.”
Jacob looked at Joey. Joey hadn’t said anything like that to him in more than a decade. Not that he deserved it for a decade, but still. Joey’s unsolicited praise and acknowledgment humbled him, and he treasured it. It was really something coming from Joey.
“Thank you.”
The phone rang. He noticed his cell phone had missed messages. “Media’s been calling us,” his mom said, filling him in. He sighed and rubbed his neck.
“I’m going out for a drive, okay? Chill a bit.”
His mom’s eyes flashed in fear, but she shut her eyes to contain it. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’m not going out to use, Mom,” he added bluntly.
“I try not to go there. But—”
“You have to. We all have to.”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
He drove off in his decrepit SUV. Ice chunks floated by lazily in the river and formed uneven rows at the shoreline. He drove up into the mountains above the ranch and stared out, trying to register what he felt, but failed miserably again. He drove to town, stopping at the closest drive-through for some junk food. He was instantly recognized. The teenage servers gushed over him until he escaped with his meal, without having to pay for it. He went to the boat launch along the Columbia River and ate it dejectedly, reflecting on the event some more. He drove to the hospital next. He pulled on a baseball cap and drew his coat hood up over it lest he be recognized. Creeping in furtively, he soon walked with confidence as if he were going to an appointment. He wandered up the stairs and made his way to the ICU. He guessed she’d be there.
The girl. His unidentified helper. The other hero of the day.
She lived.
Jacob had to know who she was.
Why? He had no real reason. Maybe… maybe she’d understand… or something…
He skulked around until he found her. He couldn’t listen to anymore praise or tributes. He only recalled the gruesomeness that led to his sudden local celebrity.
There she lay on the hospital bed. He was surprised when he found her but relieved to see her again. She was definitely real.
He looked at the cast on her lower leg, which was suspended in traction. Wow, he didn’t realize she was so badly injured.
She lay back peacefully on the bed, which was slightly tilted up. She looked so alone in a sea of flowers and greenery. They surrounded her bedside. She had dark, thick hair that spilled around her, such a contrast to the grayish pallor beneath her olive skin. A bandage covered her forehead. It might have explained why her face had blood streaks. The covers were tucked up under her breasts very neatly.
Jacob stood just outside the door. He was so hesitant. Glad to see her alive but unsure what to do.
He should—
Her eyes fluttered open and in one second, they met his.
She stared and blinked several times before lifting her head barely a fraction of an inch off the pillow.
“You,” she said in a low, soft voice. He wondered if he were a dreaded reminder of the ordeal or a welcome partner from their visit to hell and back.
“Yeah, me.”
“You saved my life. You saved everyone’s life. You stopped the killer while he was holding a loaded gun.” Her head shook. “It’s the bravest thing I’ve ever seen, and also, the craziest. It was loaded and ready to fire, just inches from shooting you.”
He shrugged. “Can I come in? Could we talk for a while?”
“Yes.” She shifted around. “Of course, you can. You don’t have to ask. You saved me.”
“I wasn’t sure if you were okay.”
“You came here just to see me?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged and stepped closer. “The truth is I’m not sure what to do with myself anymore or at least, not today.”
“I don’t know either.” She glanced away and picked the edge of her sheet nervously. Lifting her gaze to his, she asked, “So what did you…”
“What?”
“Do today? What did you do?” The smile was a small curve upwards of her lips. “Maybe you can give me some pointers because I have no idea how to proceed.”
“I tried to talk to my family. Watched myself on TV, which was oddly disturbing. I felt like I was living in a dystopian reality. I cannot stop thinking about all the others, you know, the ones who didn’t make it out of that café. The unfortunates who weren’t as lucky as us. Then I drove around, feeling more uneasy. Unsure. I don’t know what to do. I feel so restless. I know I should be relieved that I survived, when eight—I can’t believe it’s eight—but eight worthy people didn’t escape with their lives.”
“I know… I keep thinking, why me? Or rather, why not me? Why wasn’t I hit? Shot. Killed? Murdered?”
He nodded. They locked gazes. “Me too. Why wasn’t I shot instead of that baby’s mom? Did you know about that one?”
“Frannie Grange, mother of four-month-old Trista. Yeah, I know. I wonder…”
“I actually thought you were shot.”
“No. Thankfully.”
He pulled his gaze from drifting around the room back to her. “But look at you now. I saw the blood on your clothes…” He cringed as he pictured it.
“Yeah, I saw the blood too. It was Edgar’s. I cut my forehead though and apparently, facial cuts bleed a lot. But mostly I just damaged my foot. It was broken in several places and I had to have surgery.”
“I’m sorry, that’s so admirable. I can’t believe you still crawled around with it like that.”
“I guess I was just in s
hock.”
“You were pretty amazing.”
She rolled her eyes and grimaced. “So were you. But somehow, it doesn’t help. Does it?”
“No,” he said and the sadness in his tone reflected how she felt.
“Do you keep picturing it over and over again? Even with your eyes shut?”
“Yes. I can’t explain it to others.”
“It happened so fast. How long do you have to stay in the hospital?”
“Right now, they’re worried about my nerves and shock. I was pretty wigged out. Edgar was just having a cup of coffee and a club sandwich. They were so eager for their upcoming trip to Yuma right after the holidays. They were just… so innocent and free and then… Now he’s dead and I just heard his widow might not make it.” She sniffled and fresh tears streamed from her dark, luminous eyes. “I’m sorry. I keep on doing this. Crying. I cried so much that I don’t even know when it’s coming anymore.”
“I feel like that too.”
“You… you are the hero. My hero.”
He snorted. “You dragged your body with a broken foot, covered in another man’s blood and yanked the gun right out of the man’s hand. His hand could have easily twitched and pulled the trigger, killing you too, and it would have taken next to nothing. You’re as much a hero as I’ll ever be. I was able-bodied, hidden, with the advantage of surprise as my weapon. You were already down and if you hadn’t done what you did… I don’t know. You also kept me from choking him to death.”
“How did I do that?”
“I looked over and saw you needed help. I had to stop. I—I didn’t want to.”
“I didn’t want you to either.” She stared down at her hands and gathered the sheet between her fingers. She pulled on it and then re-smoothed it.
“I wonder if anyone else could understand that.”
“I think they might get the words, but the visceral feelings of witnessing death are pretty indescribable.”
“That’s how I feel.”
He stood beside her bed and they held eye contact for a long time, far longer than Jacob ever did with a stranger. It wasn’t about appreciating and noticing a pretty woman. It wasn’t about seeing someone close to his own age either. Their connection and understanding went far past their genders and ages. It was centered on this harsh, hard-to-categorize trauma.
Jacob cleared his throat. “Um… I guess I never introduced myself. My name is Jacob. Jacob Starr.”
Luna flinched and surprised Jacob when she let out a short laugh. “I know. I’ve seen all the news reports. And I already realized we were never introduced to each other and yet—”
“We went through something death-defying together.”
“Yeah. Exactly. My name is Luna Castellanos.”
“Luna. That’s a pretty name.”
“It’s Spanish for moon. My mother thought I was so intriguing when I was born.”
“Well, I like the sound of that better than if she named you Moon.”
“I never thought of that. I have to agree.”
A lingering silence engulfed them and they both became painfully aware that they didn’t know each other. They shared no common context for interaction, just a terrible trauma. An event in which they had similar reactions. He should have gotten up to leave. He should have let her rest. But he didn’t.
“Do you mind if I sit for a little while? I don’t… I don’t have anything more to say. But I also don’t have anywhere to go. Or is that too weird?”
“It’s not weird. What happened was weird. How I feel now is weird. Getting a little shook up and uneasy and unsure about it? That’s not weird.”
Jacob sat in the chair beside the window and didn’t feel like talking. The usual pleasantries were noticeably absent. He wasn’t sure he even cared to exchange them. They were so unimportant. So trite and silly. He watched eight people get shot to death. He wasn’t in any mood to meet or know anyone. But he also wasn’t ready for the history and issues of his family. He had no doubt that many of them would be concerned about him relapsing, blaming it on the stress and trauma of the situation.
Jacob didn’t think he would, but he wasn’t ready to guarantee that. He was shaken to the core and felt considerably weaker and more vulnerable. Seeing the fragility of life up close made him keenly aware that death could occur at any moment. It could have happened to him, certainly when he was high and struggling for money on the streets, or in jail or lying stoned in bed all day. Anything could have happened, but nothing did.
Now, he saw that life was no more than a short piece of thread. For once, however, his life had become priceless to him and he desperately wanted to live it. He now feared for Silas’s life, since no one could predict what might happen. The mentally ill, the psychotic, the suicidal… who could foresee this kind of behavior before it was too late? Who knows what kind of people choose to harm others? None of the theories he read seemed right. Then again, he was sure people who were far smarter couldn’t explain why the perpetrators of these mass, random shootings in public places occur.
You go out to dinner one day and it ends up like this?
Jacob’s sense of safety was turned upside-down. And there was nowhere for him to go and nowhere he wanted to be. That could have become dangerous to him, considering his past coping mechanism. One day could wind up costing him five years and his son.
He sat without speaking for a long time. Hours passed. Luna fell asleep. Luna the stranger. Luna the only one who could understand how he felt today. The reason he sat there with her was to satisfy his need to be connected and understood. And to keep him from shooting up again. He didn’t know her well enough yet to admit her role in his sobriety. So, they sat together, separate and alone, without needing words.
He must have nodded off because he jerked awake to find it dark outside. It was strangely quiet in the hospital, so he glanced at his phone. It was well past three a.m. Shit. He quickly texted his mom back after seeing she left several messages. He cringed instantly. She’d assume he was using or in some kind of trouble. Damn. He leaned over and quickly snapped a picture. It was of him and Luna. He wanted to show her the hospital setting so at least she’d know he was telling the truth. Hailey’s relief was evident in her reply message.
He stood to leave when Luna’s voice interrupted him. “Why did you just take a picture with me in it?”
He sighed. “My mom was worried about where I disappeared to.”
“Why didn’t you just tell her?”
He shook his head. “She has her reasons for doubting me. Two days ago was the first time I have ever been accused of being heroic.”
“Why did you stay so long?”
“Nowhere else to go. I didn’t sleep last night.”
“Do you feel any better? Did sleeping help?”
Snort. “I barely closed my eyes and when I did, I dreamt of those terrible images in the café, so, no, unfortunately, it didn’t help.”
“Yeah, I hate to shut my eyes too.”
Lulled into staying, Jacob sat back down. “So, what were you doing in River’s End Café?”
She smiled. “I bought it. I moved to River’s End last summer. I never dreamed violence like that could happen here.”
“Who would have? I lived in Everett and then Seattle until I was twenty–five. I never saw any kind of shooting. Least place I expected to find it was at a café in River’s End.”
“And then to become a part of it.”
“Yeah. Still not sure what to do with that.”
“Me neither. What about you? How did you end up being there that night?”
“I recently moved back to town from the coast. I haven’t been in there since last summer. But I was a little hungry last night, and it was cold, and I was on my way home from my mom’s place. She lives across the river on the ranch. She married a local when I was in my teens.”
“Who could ever guess Seattle might be safer than River’s End?”
“Perhaps nowhere is safe now.”<
br />
“That’s something I keep grappling with.”
Silence. Contemplative and long while they avoided eye contact. Finally, he said, “So is your family coming to see you?”
“My parents don’t live close by. They’re are out of the country and I didn’t tell them yet. It would freak them out and what can they do?”
“A lot. Taking care of your injured foot for one. But… after what we went through, Luna, emotionally, you shouldn’t be left alone.”
She didn’t answer him at first. “No. But it seems like I am. Always. And my parents and I are on the outs right now. I’m just not strong enough to deal with them.”
That jolted his sense of wrong. He might have been a lousy son, but he had the best parents, so it was odd to imagine others who didn’t. “Not too close to your family?”
“I’ve had some… significant issues with them. Disagreements and I don’t want this to be the catalyst. You know?”
“I know. Believe me, I get family issues.”
They fell into silence again. The hospital was eerily quiet. It was darker and more shadowed than in the daytime, adding a sense of isolation to it. “So, if you’re new to the area, who will take you home? And help you out while you recover?”
“I can move around okay. They gave me a pair of crutches.”
“Oh, come on. You need to buy groceries. It’s your right foot so how can you drive? Luna, you’ll need some help. How are you even getting home from here?”
“Medical transport. Insurance will pay for it.”
He shook his head. This wasn’t right. Her café was the scene of a massacre. Her foot got broken from trying to save an old lady, and she has no one? But why would he get involved? He so rarely got involved with anyone. And someone he didn’t know? Really odd. But damn. What else would he be doing? His supervisor had heard all about it, of course, and after they hailed him a hero, they gave him a few days off. As long as he needed. He didn’t really want any time off. But what could he do? Crawl around the ranch, bored and unhappy, just like he did today? Naturally, he didn’t really want to go to work either. He got itchy at the thought of concentrating on anything. His head was bursting with things to do but nothing felt right. “I could… I don’t know… I could take you home.”