The Brink of Darkness (The Edge of Everything)

by Jeff Giles

  “Literally, what is wrong with you, Jonah?” said Zoe.

  “What?” said Jonah. “I’m helping!”

  “Okay, listen,” said Zoe’s mother. “I’m going to have to tell Rufus who you really are. I can’t imagine how that’s going to go. If he doesn’t flip out—”

  “He’s not gonna flip out,” said Zoe. “He’d do anything for you. Plus, my god, he’s the emperor of mellow.”

  “If Rufus doesn’t flip out,” her mother continued, “you can stay in the shed, and he’ll sleep in the living room with Jonah. For two weeks. That’s it. Then Zoe and Jonah and I are moving to the Wallaces’ old place, and you’re gone, I don’t care where.”

  “Thank you,” said X. “I hardly know how to—”

  “Stop,” said Zoe’s mother. “I’m not doing this because I like you. As far as you know right now, I only like you a tiny, tiny bit. Do you understand? I’m doing this because I love my daughter.”

  X nodded. Uhura licked his neck again.

  “Mom’s not really mad,” said Jonah. “That’s only her pretend-mad voice.”

  “No, it isn’t,” his mother said. “This is my for real mad voice.”

  “Nope,” said Jonah.

  “Yeah, it’s at least twenty percent pretend,” said Zoe.

  Her mother rolled her eyes, then pulled Zoe and Jonah close and hugged them hard.

  She spoke kindly to X for the first time.

  “Zoe says you met your mom,” she said.

  “I did,” said X.

  “I’m glad,” she said. “Can I ask what it was like? Uhura, stop licking him.”

  “It’s all right, I’ve missed Uhura’s company,” said X. “Meeting my mother …” What could he say? “Meeting my mother made me feel something I have only ever felt with Zoe: a little bit whole.”

  Zoe’s mom gave him an appraising look.

  “Okay, I like that,” she said.

  She seemed to notice for the first time how filthy X’s clothes were. He looked self-consciously at his feet.

  “I know you’re used to washing in rivers,” she said. “But it’s time to try a shower.”

  X followed Zoe to Rufus’s small, wood-paneled bathroom, and watched as she turned on the water. There was a piece of transparent plastic hanging in the chipped pink tub. It was covered with irregular splotches of color and words that X couldn’t read.

  “I don’t even want to know how long Rufus has had this shower curtain,” said Zoe. She turned back to X. She must have seen how intently he was staring at it. “It’s a map of the world,” she said. “Have you never seen one?”

  Embarrassed, X said only, “Where are we?”

  “Here,” Zoe said, pointing. “And this is Massachusetts, where we borrowed the orange boat. It’s on the Atlantic Ocean. See?”

  “Show me more,” said X.

  “This is Texas, where you captured Stan in the hair salon,” she said. “This is British Columbia, where we found my father. This is Portugal, where Regent’s dad made wine. This is Ukraine. What else? This is London, where Ripper lived when she—when she actually lived.” She paused. “That’s enough for now. How hot do you like the water?”

  “I’m not sure,” said X.

  “Right,” said Zoe. “Well, tell me if this is too hot or too cold?”

  X reached into the shower.

  “It is neither too hot nor too cold,” he said. “It is just right.”

  “You sound like Goldilocks,” said Zoe. “Goldilocks is—”

  “I know who Goldilocks is,” said X.

  Zoe kissed him.

  “Well, okay, then.”

  She sprayed something into the mist.

  “Eucalyptus,” she said. “My mom’s into it.”

  Zoe identified the bottles that stood like soldiers along the edge of the tub, and suggested that X use her mother’s soap (which was pear green and flecked with flower petals) instead of Rufus’s (which was actually several small wedges of soap stuck together).

  “Thank you for the tour,” said X. “I believe I have all the information I need.”

  “Okay,” said Zoe. “Just be careful in the tub—it’s slippery. It’d be messed up if you survived the Lowlands just to bust your head in Rufus’s bathroom.”

  “I will not bust my head,” said X. “You have my word.”

  “I’m serious,” said Zoe. “You’re not a superhero anymore.”

  X closed the door behind her, but she pushed her way back in.

  “Do you want music?” she said. “I can get you music, but if you dance you might fall.”

  “I don’t think I require music,” said X. “Or dancing.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Just checking. You be you.”

  When he was sure Zoe had run out of questions, X sloughed off his clothes and stepped—carefully—into the tub. The water stung as it found the bruises on his chest and back, but slowly his muscles relaxed. Everything loosened, everything calmed. He soaped himself until he felt like he was covered in sea foam—he’d overdone it, probably—then watched dirt from the Lowlands run down his legs, and into the drain, away from him forever. He lifted his face to the water. He let it pound his eyelids and cheeks. He washed his hair, but he must have overdone this, too, because he found he could make clumps of it stick straight out from his head, like sunshine in a drawing of the sun. When he was clean, X found he wasn’t ready to leave the comfort of the shower.

  He thought about how improbably, how profoundly, how absurdly lucky he was to be free.

  He turned to the shower curtain, rubbed the condensation off with his hand, and tried to memorize a little bit of the world.

  X found clean clothes of Rufus’s folded in a pile outside the bathroom door, and the Bissell family around the kitchen table, waiting for him. When he asked how long he’d been in the shower, everyone laughed, but in a warm, rather than mean-spirited, way.

  “An hour and a half,” said Zoe.

  Her mother had tended to Zoe’s cuts and abrasions in the interim. She told X to take off his shirt and sit, so she could do the same for him. When he hesitated, she said, “It’s okay. I went to medical school for three semesters.”

  X removed his shirt. He saw Zoe’s mother look at the sleeves of tattoos that ran up his arms and at the damage that had been done to his body during 20 years in the Lowlands. He worried that it would be too much for her. He worried that she’d turn him out after all.

  Instead, the sorry state of X’s skin seemed to deepen her sympathy. She opened a metal box on the table, took out a tube of ointment, and squeezed some into her palm.

  “Okay,” she said, “let’s fix you.”

  Later, X lay in the plastic lounge chair in the shed in the backyard, with Zoe curled on top of him.

  The shed was decrepit, and leaned so far left that it seemed to be in the midst of falling. Tools hung on the wall above the workbench. Zoe had told X their names, but he’d already forgotten them all. He was thrilled to be among the living, but daunted by the ten million things he didn’t know. Zoe had once said she couldn’t comprehend how big the Lowlands were. X couldn’t comprehend how big freedom was. He thought of the little orange boat in the vast black sea.

  “I want to be of use somehow,” he said.

  Zoe stroked the muscle that ran along the back of his arm.

  “Oh, I’m definitely gonna use you,” she said.

  “I am in earnest, Zoe,” he said. “I want to be more than some tree stump you must drag behind you. Else one day you will wake, and wonder why on earth you saved me.”

  Zoe sighed.

  “I shall ne’er wonder that, goodly sir,” she said. “I shall ne’er ere wonder it.”

  “ ‘Ere’ means before, not ever,” said X. “And therein lies another problem. I must alter the way I speak, the way I dress—the way I move, for all I know.”

  “Please don’t change the way you move,” said Zoe. “Look, I’ll show you some YouTube videos, and you’ll start picking stuff up
. That’s what would happen in a movie. You’d watch YouTube while I was at school, and after two days you’d be playing Mario Kart.” She kissed him. “Please don’t worry. I’ll explain everything to you bit by bit, and it’ll be like I’m seeing it for the first time, too. It’s like that with Jonah, and I love it. That kid is still amazed by yogurt.”

  “What is yogurt?” said X.

  “See!” said Zoe. “This is gonna be awesome. There are so many good yogurts.”

  They fell asleep without intending to, and woke when Rufus knocked on the door. The shed was dark except for the heaters, which gave off an orange light. It took X a few seconds to remember where he was.

  Zoe sat up groggily in his lap.

  “Come in,” she said.

  “Cool if I shed some light on the … shed?” said Rufus.

  “Sure,” said Zoe.

  Rufus pulled a string. A bare bulb came to life, and swung back and forth. X squinted up at Rufus, who held a bottle of water, a new toothbrush, and a pair of moccasin-style slippers.

  “A couple offerings,” he said. “Nothing epic. I wasn’t sure what you needed.”

  X remembered Rufus’s bright eyes and his dense red beard, which seemed to be waging a military campaign to take over his face. But he was surprised by how tentative he seemed now. Rufus set the things on the workbench, and went to leave. Only then did the obvious occur to X: Rufus might not love the idea of a bounty hunter from hell sleeping in his shed. The fact that X was actually a former bounty hunter from hell … Who knew if that made it any easier?

  X stood to shake his hand. He hated the idea that he’d made Rufus uncomfortable in his own home.

  “Thank you for sheltering me,” said X. “And thank you for these clothes I wear. I’m embarrassed by how needy I am. I have nothing but my name, and even that Zoe had to give me.”

  “It’s all good, man,” said Rufus, almost, but not quite, looking at him. “None of us really own anything anyway, you know? How long’d you wear that ratty shirt and stuff?”

  “Years,” said X.

  “Ooof,” said Zoe.

  “Yes, now that I hear it aloud, it does sound unappealing,” said X.

  “No judgment,” said Rufus. “I’ve still got socks from high school. Well, one sock.”

  Rufus tried again to leave, but X stopped him.

  “Zoe’s mother has told you my story, I think?” he said.

  “Oh, yeah,” said Rufus. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He mimed his head exploding. “My whole thing is going with the flow. But I’ve got to admit, I’m sorta surprised by where the flow is going.”

  “But you do believe my story, fantastical as it is?” said X.

  “Yes, I believe it,” said Rufus. “I do. I mean—Zoe’ll tell you—I believe some pretty weird shit anyway. I believe trees talk—to each other and to us. I think some Dr. Seuss books are real. I think they’re actually nonfiction. Not all of them, but a couple.”

  “What do trees say?” said X.

  Rufus laughed.

  “I’m still working on that,” he said. He looked straight at X finally, then took the slippers from the workbench.

  “Try these on,” he said. “Let’s see if they fit.”

  The slippers were lined with fur—and so comfortable that they seemed to warm X’s entire body.

  “I will never take them off,” he said.

  “Rad,” said Rufus. “They’re yours.”

  X could see that Rufus wanted to say more. He wished he was as good at putting people at ease as Zoe was.

  “Here’s the deal,” Rufus said finally. “I can’t have Zoe or her family getting hurt. If this whole thing is Horton Hears a Who!—and we’re protecting somebody that nobody else believes in or cares about—that’s great. I am so down for that. But if it turns out to be The Cat in the Hat, and you just trash everybody’s lives …”

  “The Cat in the Hat comes back, and fixes everything,” said Zoe.

  “I know, I know,” said Rufus. “But that part’s made-up. They had to tack it on at the end because it’s a kids’ book.”

  “I’m sorry,” said X. “I’m not following this conversation. The cat has a hat?”

  “I just mean I care about this family,” said Rufus. “Zoe, I know you think I have a thing for your mom.”

  “I have never, ever said that,” said Zoe. “Okay, now that I think about it, I’ve said it a lot.”

  “It’s cool,” said Rufus. “I can see why you’d think it. But I care about you and Jonah, too. I’m like X—I don’t really have a family of my own. So I can’t have any negative stuff happen to you guys. It’d demolish me, man. I’d be roadkill.”

  “It’s gonna be okay,” said Zoe.

  “It will,” said X. “I know that’s the hardest thing of all to believe, yet it is true. Seeing any of them hurt would break me, too.”

  In the silence that followed, one of the heaters went out. Rufus kicked the side of it. The coils went thong, and returned to life.

  “I know it would,” Rufus told X. “I can tell you’re a solid dude. Okay, I’m all in. Let’s do this, whatever this is.” He shook X’s hand again. “You guys need anything else?”

  X could think of nothing, but Zoe said, “Actually, yeah.”

  She handed her phone to Rufus.

  “Look at this bear sculpture, and tell me if you made it.”

  Rufus scratched at his beard—it was so bushy that his fingertips actually disappeared into it—and inspected the picture.

  “Yeah, that’s one of mine,” he said. “That was a good one. I remember the guy who bought it, too. He works with bears in the park, right? Knows a shit-ton. Tim Something?”

  “Timothy,” said Zoe. “Ward.”

  “He was also a solid dude,” said Rufus. “Real quiet. Little bit awkward. But I dug him for sure.”

  X felt something start up in his heart.

  “What are you looking at?” he said, though he already knew.

  Zoe held the phone out to him. It glowed on her palm.

  “A picture of your dad,” she said.

  twenty-nine

  The next day was a Saturday, blue and bright. X showered again—it only took him 45 minutes this time—then he and Zoe drove to Glacier National Park to meet Timothy Ward.

  X saw Zoe resting her elbow on the open window, so he did the same. The sun warmed his skin. The wind rushed up his sleeve, making it flap like a sail.

  Regent had warned them not to tell Timothy Ward that X was his son. X knew he was right. He didn’t want to endanger his father by telling him about the Lowlands. He also didn’t want to upend the man’s life—he had upended enough lives—or make him feel beholden. And what if losing Sylvie had broken Timothy’s heart once upon a time? Telling him why she’d disappeared, why she had never come back—it would only break it again.

  It was Rufus who’d thought of a pretext for X to meet his father. Rufus wasn’t thrilled about deceiving Timothy—he believed that lies were a kind of air pollution, like secondhand smoke—but these were what even he had to admit were “superweird” circumstances. He’d started texting immediately.

  Rufus to Timothy: Hey, man. There’s a young guy who’s thinking of having me make him a bear. Cool if him and his girl come check yours out? Yours is a fav of mine. I know solitude’s your jam, but would you consider?

  Timothy to Rufus: Greetings, Rufus. OK sure—my bear and I could use the company. Would tomorrow at 4 work? I’m still on Lake Lillian. You’ll tell them where?

  Rufus to Timothy: Yep. Perf. Peace.

  Now, as they passed through Columbia Falls on the way to Glacier, X’s nerves began to prickle. He knew it was silly. The path to his father was not fraught like the path to his mother had been: there’d be no combat, no tunnels, no subterranean seas. Still, he’d have to sit across from the man who’d helped give him life, and pretend to be interested in a wooden bear. Ever since he’d met Zoe, holding back his feelings had come to seem stupid and futile—like trying to h
old back water.

  “Do you want to practice talking?” Zoe said into the silence.

  “Practice talking?” said X. “Are my skills so wanting?”

  “I mean talking with more of a twenty-first-century vibe,” said Zoe.

  “Nah, whatever, I’m cool,” said X.

  “Nice!” said Zoe.

  “Right? I can totally hang,” said X.

  “Okay, maybe dial it down a little,” said Zoe.

  X asked Zoe if he could see Timothy Ward’s picture again. She brought it up on her phone, and he stared at it as she drove. He liked the way his father looked: curly black hair, broad shoulders, shy expression. He couldn’t stop looking at the picture. Zoe showed him what button to push when the screen went black.

  At Glacier, a sixtyish woman in the ticket booth gave them a broad smile and said, “How you two doing today?”

  X loved the uncomplicated sunniness in her voice. He loved the simplicity of the interaction. Before now, he’d been expected to kill almost everyone he met.

  As Zoe fished out her pass to the park and her driver’s license, X leaned forward in his seat to talk to the woman.

  “We’re chill,” he said. “How about you?”

  The woman laughed.

  “I’m chill, too,” she said.

  “Sweet,” said X.

  Zoe stifled a laugh. The woman handed back her identification.

  “Have a very chill day!” she said.

  Zoe pulled away, and they crossed over a glittering creek. X’s nervousness gave way to excitement. The immensity of the trees and mountains—the permanence of them—had never struck him so hard before, probably because he’d always been bent on some awful task for the lords. He stared at them in amazement now.

  This was where his parents had met.

  Zoe clicked off the radio—out of respect for what was about to happen, it seemed like. For the next few minutes, the only sound was a disembodied woman’s voice from her phone.

  “In two miles, turn right toward Lake Lillian.”

  “In one mile, turn right …”

  “In two hundred feet …”

  It struck X that not long ago they had been in another forest, heading toward a lake and another father.