Not Fade Away

by Donna S. Frelick

  She blushed again, and this time the heat spread all over her body. “Anytime,” she said.

  “And what if we get carried away again?” He wanted to pick up where they’d left off. He wanted it so much she could feel the tension in his body, see the need in his eyes. God knew she wanted it, too, despite what she’d told him the other night.

  Before she could censor herself she whispered, “Not sure I’d want to stop this time.”

  “Hey, where’s my coffee?” Del waved a hand at them from his perch in the recliner in front of the television. Charlie thought there might have been a glint of mischief in his eye.

  Rafe groaned and stood away from Charlie. “I just gave you a cup of coffee. What’d you do with it?”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  Charlie smiled to herself as she watched the two of them go back and forth, Happy looking on at Del’s feet. She was used to getting close to her elderly clients, who were often difficult, but just as often entertaining. She got attached to their families, too, and made long-term friends of some of them in this small community. People like Louise, for example. But these two were different. There was just something about Del Laurence. And, as for his son, well, Charlie had already spent way too much time thinking about him today.

  She shook her head and forced herself to get on track. Even without the distraction of what had happened over the weekend, Mondays were always a little chaotic at Del and Rafe’s. They were two bachelors, after all, and though Rafe kept Del on a strict routine, little things like laundry and dishes tended to pile up. She often found herself stepping in to sort things out when it got to be a health hazard. From the looks of the kitchen, this morning would be one of those times.

  Rafe gave her an apologetic smile when he saw the expression on her face. “Sorry. I’ve been meaning to get to those.” He nodded at the dishes in the sink as he heated up his father’s coffee.

  “There is a dishwasher in this place, right?” She smiled back.

  “You mean, besides me?”

  She opened the dishwasher door beside the sink. “No, I mean this right here.” It looked like it had never been used.

  Rafe stood staring at it. “Um. That’s for washing dishes?”

  Was he kidding? “Ye-e-es.” When he continued to look blank, she pointed. “See, the soap goes in there.” She put a plate and a few glasses in. “The dishes go in like this. You fill it up, then you turn it on.” She indicated the buttons on the outside. Then she laughed. “Surely you’ve seen a dishwasher before.”

  “Of course,” he said, a little too quickly. “Our models were just, uh, they looked different.”

  Okay, he was clearly lying. But maybe he’d grown up without a lot of modern conveniences. Lord knows lots of people did, though probably not so many in the cities of Canada as right here in the mountains of North Carolina. No point in making him feel embarrassed about it.

  “Right. Well, the main thing is, dirty dishes in, clean dishes out. Got it?”

  His eyes widened. “Understood. I’ll get to it as soon as I finish my run.”

  “Okay. I’ll be working with Del on his brain games this morning while you’re gone.” She opened the fridge to check for lunch fixings—and found the big Samsung nearly empty except for Del’s meds, some lunchmeat and a six-pack of beer. “Were you also planning a trip to the grocery store?”

  Rafe looked stricken. “Yes?”

  She closed the fridge and checked in the cabinet for bread. “They’re expecting snow later this evening. You definitely need to get to the store. I’ll make a list.” Inspiration hit her. “Hey, how about I cook dinner for y’all tonight? I can make a big pot of my Brunswick stew and you can have the leftovers for later in the week.” She’d need to make cornbread, too, of course. She ticked off the ingredients in her head.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  She turned to look at Rafe. He had planted his feet and stood frowning in the middle of the kitchen.

  Charlie stepped closer and put a hand on his arm. “I know I don’t have to. I want to. I’d like to spend some more time with you and your father. If that’s okay.”

  He softened, then, and allowed a small smile. “Well, if you’re part of the deal, I might consider it. But we’re perfectly capable—”

  “—of taking care of yourselves. I know. Just think of this as a gift—something from me to you.”

  “In that case,” he said, his gaze locked with hers, “you’ll have to let me give you something special in return.”

  She was so close to him she could feel his heat through her skin; she could feel his breath on her cheek. Her heart jumped in her chest and her blood sang in her ears. She knew what he meant, and her body was so ready, but still she held back.

  “That isn’t necessary,” she whispered.

  “Oh, but it’ll be my pleasure,” he said, his voice deep and low, sending an electric jolt along her spine. “And yours. I’ll make sure of it.”

  Sonny had never seen Doc Rainey kowtow to any man before, and the old man did business with everybody from meth heads to moonshiners, oxy addicts to biker gunrunners. Tonight, though, Doc was shaking in his loafers as he looked up at the giant in front of his desk. Sonny reckoned the man known only as The Buyer was enough to put the fear of God in anybody, and Doc Rainey was no exception.

  Sonny and Bill Gillespie were assigned to guard the door, though what Doc thought they could do if The Buyer decided to leave, or kill them all, or dance a fucking jig if he wanted, Sonny had no clue. All the other boys had made themselves scarce, so the farmhouse was empty behind them; they had no backup. Whatever the big man said, went. Everybody knew it, including Doc.

  Doc’s hand was shaking as he poured out two whiskeys. “Have a drink, man. What can I do for you?”

  The big man drank his down in one swallow. Then he sat, not saying anything for a minute.

  Doc cleared his throat. “Shipments okay? Got enough people?” The Buyer came every month like clockwork for his quota of warm bodies, “people capable of hard labor” that Doc’s gang snatched out of dark alleys or flophouses or bars at closing time. God only knew what he did with them. Sonny didn’t know and didn’t want to know.

  “The shipments are sufficient,” the man said. “I am here on another matter.”

  Sonny thought maybe Doc exhaled for the first time. The boss drank down his own whiskey and poured two more.

  “Name it. Anything we can do, we’ll do it.” Doc seemed so eager to please. Sonny had never seen him like this. It was a little sickening.

  “Our superiors are looking for someone. Here are the specifics.” He passed a sheet of paper across the desk. “Find him and you will be rewarded.”

  Doc read over the sheet. “Del Gordon, age 77 . . .” He mumbled a few other details of the man’s description, including that he used a wheelchair. “Why are you looking for him?”

  The Buyer glared at him. “That is not your concern.”

  “But you think he’s here?” Seems the old man couldn’t keep the irritation out of his voice.

  “If he is here he has come in the last few . . . months.” Sonny noticed the man hesitated over the time calculation. It was like he couldn’t remember the difference between days, weeks, months. Weird. “He might be with a younger man, his son. Surely such a pair would be noticed in the community?”

  Shit! He couldn’t be talking about that crazy old man Charlie was taking care of, could he? And his asshole son? Sonny couldn’t contain his excitement. Hadn’t The Buyer said something about a reward? And if it was them, he could be rid of that asshole Laurence for good.

  “Maybe,” Doc was saying. Then he looked over at Sonny, who was shifting from foot to foot. “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

  “I dunno, boss. I mighta seen that guy. Is he a little touched in the head?”

  The Buyer rose from his seat and turned to face Sonny. The giant towered over him, his brows drawn down over black eyes. It made Sonny dizzy to
look up at him, though that could have been the dose of oxy he’d washed down with a beer just before he came in here.

  “What do you mean ‘touched’?” the big man said.

  Sonny swallowed. “Crazy, you know. Not right.” He had to dig deep through the layers of drug-induced debris in his mind to remember the details. “I saw him in the street at the Winter Festival having some kinda fit. He’s my ex’s client. I saw his son, too.”

  The giant’s frown deepened. “You know it was his son.”

  “Oh, I’m sure about that.” The more he thought about it, the more he knew his ship had just come in. “They’re not calling themselves Gordon, though. They’re using the name Laurence. They came here about, I don’t know, two months ago?”

  The big man turned and held out his hand to Doc Rainey. Doc handed over the sheet.

  “Is this him?” The Buyer said and passed the sheet to Sonny.

  Sonny looked at the photo at the top of the page and grinned. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “That’s him.”

  “The party girls arrive with the new moon—that’s in five days.” Del looked each of his six co-conspirators in the eyes. Each one met his gaze evenly. “We won’t have another chance. The work is almost done. This time we go.”

  “Are you sure?” The man they called Smith, who worked in the kitchen, had been the biggest doubter all along. But they needed him; only he and his partner Jones worked close enough inside to know when the party began and ended and could track the movements of the girls’ guards. “Are we really ready?”

  “C’mon, man.” Jones clapped him on the shoulder. “We’re as ready as we need to be.” He turned to Kwai. “You’ve got the goods, right? Everyone will just go night-night, no problem?”

  Kwai handed over a twist of dried leaves. “Grind this very fine and add it to the wine in the afternoon. As you decant the wine for the dinner, be sure to filter out any visible particles. If you are careful, they won’t detect the taste. Be sure to offer the guards a cup of wine as a courtesy. I take it that is not unusual?”

  Jones laughed. “No. Not unusual. They can barely walk back to the shuttle sometimes.”

  “It’s a party,” Smith added with a shrug.

  “Ha! It’ll be a party this time all right,” Shef said. “And what a hangover! They’ll wake up to find their shuttle’s gone and their ship has left orbit. Wouldn’t want to be them trying to explain to the camp CO that morning!”

  “We need clearance for shuttle, no?” Soker was responsible for making sure they got out of the barracks that night. He was large and not entirely human. Even he didn’t know where he came from. “Launch and entry codes?”

  Shef grinned. “Don’t worry. The pilot will have them. And he’ll be more than willing to cooperate with you standing behind him, big guy.”

  Del made sure his backup utility player, Mule, understood all his varied tasks; then he looked everyone over. “Any questions?”

  “I’m concerned we still do not know the purpose of the container in the underground bunker.” Kwai, thoughtful as always.

  “Does it matter?” Jones said. “We’re leaving.”

  “You think it has a strategic purpose,” Shef said.

  Kwai looked at him. “I think it may be some kind of incubator.”

  Gasps and incredulous murmurs met his assertion, but Shef spoke for everyone: “What the fuck?”

  Something had taken hold of Del’s chest and was squeezing hard. “An incubator for what?” But he knew it didn’t matter. If the Grays were hatching it, the thing would bode no good for the rest of the sentient galaxy.

  He could tell from the look in Kwai’s face that the fisherman understood that, too. “I don’t know,” Kwai said, “But whatever it is, I believe it is our duty to find out.”

  Shef shook his head. “We’ll only have one chance to get in that chamber—the night we leave.”

  “And once we’re in, recon won’t be enough,” Del said, realizing at once what had to be done. “We’ll have to blow that thing to kingdom come.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “You all right, Del?”

  The old man sat clutching his chest and staring out the window at the rolls of low-hanging clouds over the valley. He’d been asleep just a minute ago.

  Charlie wiped her hands on the dishtowel, left her stew bubbling on the stove and went into the great room to check on him.

  Happy looked up at her from Del’s side, his tail scribing low circles between his legs; he was worried.

  She put a hand on the old man’s shoulder. “Del? You with me?”

  Finally, he looked up, but his eyes were still glazed. “Huh?”

  “You okay?”

  “Hell, no, I’m not okay! That monster is gonna consume the whole galaxy, and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it!”

  Charlie’s fists settled on her hips as she cocked her head at him. “Well, I admit Happy eats a lot, but the whole galaxy? He’d probably stop after just the one planet.” She shot a glance at the clock on the wall—too soon for Del’s meds. She’d have to hope she could talk him down.

  Happy whined and nudged the old man’s hand.

  And, just like that, he came back. “What?” He grinned and gave the dog a rough pat. “Oh, hey there, big fella!”

  Rafe was still out “checking the perimeter,” whatever that meant, so she helped Del to the bathroom, and got him cleaned up before starting on any activities. He was not at his best in the afternoon; he was groggy after his naps, so brain games were out. But he often enjoyed moving after sitting all morning, so she blew up a balloon and the three of them batted it back and forth until the thing was covered in dog slobber. Happy loved the game, and had learned over time not to bite the ball that went pow! when you put your teeth in it.

  When she saw Del flagging she put a stop to the game and got everyone some water. Happy slurped his noisily from a bowl in the kitchen.

  “Where’s Rafe?” Del asked for the third time, handing back the water glass.

  “He’s out walking,” Charlie answered. “He’ll be back any minute.”

  He grunted. “Securing the perimeter. Good. Wanna watch Dr. Phil.”

  Charlie stared at him; his moments of lucidity were like rays of bright sunshine on a rainy day. “Um, yeah. Okay, Dr. Phil it is. Almost over, though.”

  “Turn it on. Turn it on.”

  She did as he asked and saw him and Happy settle in to watch Dr. Phil dispense his wisdom. She went back to the kitchen to make cornbread for dinner. Rafe had been gone for more than an hour. Surely he’d be back by the time the bread was done.

  She heard his bootsteps on the deck as she was putting the big iron skillet in the oven. Crazy, but her heart wanted to jump out of her chest hearing that sound, just knowing he was close.

  He’d paused outside the door to leave his muddy boots on the deck. When he finally came through the back door, he was in his sock feet, his pants and hoodie were splashed with mud, and, as he took off the sweatshirt, she could see the thermal shirt underneath was stained with sweat. Apparently Happy thought he smelled great; the dog came bounding in from the great room to greet him, sniffing him all over, tail wagging furiously.

  Rafe ruffled the dog’s fur, his expression halfway between pleased and puzzled. “To what do I owe this honor?”

  Charlie laughed. “You probably rolled in something extra smelly. What happened to you?”

  He grinned, and her pulse kicked up. “All that rain this morning made things a little slick out there.”

  She caught sight of the rear of his pants and laughed even harder. “I’m guessing you took a spill?”

  He’d come closer, so close she could have reached out to touch him. “A few.” He held out his arms. “Want a hug?”

  She held up a hand. “Raincheck.”

  “It’s already turning to snow,” he said, moving toward the other room, Happy at his heels.

  “Oh, no!” She ran to the window. And, yes, big fat flakes were mi
xing with the light rain that had been falling all day. “I should get home.”

  Rafe turned to look at her. “And miss dinner? It’s not that bad.” She might have suggested she was leaving forever by the expression of disappointment on his face.

  The thought of missing dinner made her feel a little disappointed herself. “Maybe it’ll hold off another hour or so.”

  He looked pleased as he turned back toward the great room. But Happy was now sitting in front of him, his favorite stuffed toy at his feet. The dog looked up at Rafe, his mouth hanging open in what Charlie knew was the doggie equivalent of a playful grin.

  “Now what?” Rafe said.

  Something warm bubbled up in Charlie’s chest. “He wants to play. You must have really rolled in the good stuff.” But she knew that wasn’t it. Happy had recognized Rafe as part of their tiny pack. Why did that make her so absurdly proud? “Throw the toy for him.”

  Rafe’s brows drew together in a puzzled frown. “Throw it?”

  Happy woofed and bent down with his butt in the air, tail waving.

  “Yeah, you know, not far,” Charlie said. “He’ll bring it back.”

  Rafe picked up the ratty toy—a fuzzy squirrel that had long ago lost any resemblance to an actual animal—and threw it into the great room away from where Del was sitting. Happy scrambled after it and returned to drop it Rafe’s feet.

  Rafe—and Del, watching from in front of the television—both laughed. As the sequence started over, Charlie had to stop what she was doing to savor the moment. She couldn’t remember hearing Rafe laugh out loud before—maybe a chuckle here and there. He was usually so serious. But Happy came by his name honestly. He had that effect on everyone.

  After a few minutes, Charlie called a halt. “Okay, boys, that’s enough. Dinner will be ready in a little while.”

  Rafe headed for the back hallway. “I’m gonna take a quick shower.”

  “Good thing,” Del said. “You stink like a shalssiti psoros.”

  Charlie was used to Del talking about Zorros by now, but Rafe’s guilty gaze clashed with hers, the emotion flashing raw and vulnerable until he hid it behind a shake of his head.