by David Beers
Wren went silent for a few moments.
“How’s school going?”
And then Michael understood what was happening here. He had thought his dad was just really excited about the Packers’ upcoming season, but this was so much worse than something that simple. His father was trying to hold a conversation. He did this from time to time, and it always pissed Michael off. The every-once-in-a-while check-ins, as if his father actually gave a damn. Most of the times their conversations were just Wren talking up a storm about whatever went through his mind, and Michael acting like he was listening, though none of it mattered to him at all. Either that or his dad was screaming.
Michael didn’t want to do this now. He didn’t want to talk to his dad, didn’t want to talk about school, didn’t want to talk about football, didn’t want to talk about a single damn thing.
And yet, Michael couldn’t say any of that. Not if he wanted peace.
“Not bad. I’ll probably have all A’s this quarter.”
“Really?” His dad asked, looking over to him now, genuine surprise in his voice.
“Yeah,” Michael said, nodding.
“Wow, Mike. That’s…that’s something. When will you know for sure?”
“Another couple months.”
Wren was quiet for a few more seconds. “Will you bring it home to me when you get it?”
That was different. Unexpected. Bring it home to him? Did he realize that Michael got one of these things every few months, and had for the past thirteen years? Bring it home to him? So they could, what…hang it up on the fridge? Frame it? What the fuck was he talking about? This wasn’t The Brady Bunch, wasn’t Leave it to Beaver.
“Sure. I mean, I guess,” he said, trying to keep the heat in check.
A few more seconds passed in silence.
“That’s really something,” Wren said, almost to himself, his eyes looking out the passenger window.
Minutes went by in silence, which is what Michael needed, that and no more attempts by his father to buddy up.
“How’s Thera doing?” Wren asked, still looking out the window, his voice much quieter than when they began this trip.
“Thera?” Michael asked.
“Yeah. How’s she been? I haven’t spoken to her in a long time.”
He couldn’t be more right. Michael didn’t know the last time that his father had spoken to any of his friends. He didn’t know the last time any of his friends had even seen Wren. Thera asked about him, but never the other way around.
“Why haven’t you talked to her?” Michael asked, not looking over at his father, raising his left hand up to the steering wheel so that both held onto it.
“Just been busy, I guess,” Wren said. His voice was soft, the happiness of the Burger King trip completely gone. He had been busy, and that was why he hadn’t had the time to ask Thera how she was doing over the past few years. There wasn’t any way he could actually believe that, that he’d been too busy drinking to talk to someone. It might be something that he said now, but he had to know how stupid it sounded, how he was anything but busy.
Was it pity creeping into Michael’s thinking? He didn’t feel that emotion much for his father, and it felt strange on this random Monday as they drove to a fast food restaurant. His father couldn’t say it out loud, couldn’t say—because I’m drunk all the time, and anything that happens outside of my television doesn’t matter to me. Truth be told, I really don’t know why I’m asking right now; I guess because the TV isn’t here to keep me entertained.
They drove along, the truck moving smoothly over the paved road, neither speaking. As the Burger King sign appeared on the horizon, Michael wanted to say something. But, he didn’t know what. His father had made this bed, and there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it. There wasn’t anything Michael could say to alleviate the guilt weighing on his father’s mind.
So Michael stayed silent. They ordered. They ate. They went home.
* * *
Wren knew what Michael thought, though he hadn’t said anything. The boy had kept quiet and Wren was thankful for it, Lord was he. He didn’t want to talk the rest of the time they were together, and he was thankful that Linda didn’t either. Wren didn’t know if he would be able to take her chastising him, bringing up what he already knew to be true while he sat there eating with Michael. It would have been too much.
And what he knew was that he was a horrible father. There wasn’t any other way to put it, not with his buzz wearing off and the sun shining above him. He might be able to dodge that little fact at night, might be able to lose himself in TV, but not right now. Not after the questions he just asked.
They got out of the truck and walked inside the house, Wren going to his chair while Michael went back to his room. God bless the boy, because he could have said any number of things, but he hadn’t. He’d given Wren a kindness and Wren couldn’t say a word about it, couldn’t admit it.
Why not? Linda said as he leaned back in his chair, finally deciding to comment on the situation.
He couldn’t admit that to his son. He couldn’t admit that he had no idea what his high-school grades were, not anymore than he already admitted it with his question in the truck. He didn’t even want to admit it to himself right now, but he didn’t have a choice. Or, he hadn’t had a choice—he did now. He was home and he could make it go away.
He waited for Linda to speak again, but nothing came. Everything inside him was blessing the decision, the choice to have a drink and then another, so that he could forget the whole car ride. Forget the question about Thera, forget his answer about being busy, forget even asking the fucking questions. Wren did what he had to do. To keep going. That’s something Linda couldn’t understand—
But can Michael? she said, whipping her voice in again.
Yeah, Michael probably could. Michael probably understood what it meant to go on, no matter what. He went on in different ways, for sure, but he went on. Without Linda. Without Wren.
What about him, Wren? Does he have any addictions yet to help him cope?
Wren stood up with that, throwing the question from his mind the way he would a rattlesnake in his bed. He walked into the kitchen, green cup in hand, ready to silence everything.
13
Present Day
“My dad asked about you today,” Michael said.
Thera looked over at him from the driver’s seat. “That’s sweet. What did you say?”
“I was an asshole,” he said, not looking back over at her.
Thera saw he wasn’t kidding, and he wasn’t letting himself off the hook for whatever he told Wren. She turned back to the driving, not saying anything else.
The two of them were heading to Bryan’s house. Both had called him this morning, with no answer on his cellphone. They hadn’t tried Julie because Thera figured it might worry her unnecessarily. She wanted to talk to Bryan first before they spoke to anyone else about it. It might be nothing, what happened with Michael a few nights ago. It might have been a momentary lapse, and was completely taken care of now. Thera liked Julie, hell—the girl was one of their four, a best friend, but Thera also knew that Julie could overreact. And even that term might be an understatement.
They drove in silence, Michael obviously thinking about whatever he said to his dad, while Thera thought about exactly what they were going to say to Bryan. Hey, Bry, had anymore times where your eyes went blank and someone might describe you as a shell? It sounded absolutely crazy, but she didn’t doubt what Michael told her. Michael didn’t lie, at least not to her, and maybe not to anyone else either. Something happened out there last night, even if it did sound crazy.
She pulled into Bryan’s driveway, knowing as she did that what they came here for wouldn’t happen. Bryan’s car wasn’t in the driveway, and neither were his parents’. School was out today, but his parents still had to work, and that was why no one had answered the house phone.
Thera put the car in park and looked over at Michael. “What do we do?�
�
“Go up to the door and check. Already over here,” he said, then opened his door and got out of the car.
Whatever he said to Wren, it’s really bothering him, Thera thought as she watched him walk up the driveway. She opened her own door and followed ten paces behind.
They stood there, and over the course of three minutes, rang the doorbell a dozen times. No one answered.
“It’s empty,” Michael said, finally looking over to Thera.
“Time to call Julie?” She asked.
He sighed. They both knew what that could start. She would call his parents’ cells if she couldn’t get in touch with Bryan, or drive over and insist she be involved in wherever else they went. Their little excursion would suddenly take on a much wider lens if Julie got involved. A much darker lens.
“I’d say no, but he might be with her. Otherwise, I’d just as soon not speak to her about it.”
Thera pulled her phone out and shot a message over to Julie—You and Bryan together? I think he might have taken one of my pillows by accident from the bonfire.
Michael nodded at the text, but didn’t smile. There weren’t any smiles in him today. They walked back to the car and got inside, waiting on the text to come back. Finally, Nope, haven’t talked to him yet.
“Where else could he be?” Thera asked. “Would he have gone back?”
“I don’t know,” Michael said. He waited a bit before saying, “Yeah, I think he probably would have.”
* * *
It wasn’t a good day; that was probably the best way to put it. The shit this morning with his father and now this, Bryan practically missing—Michael didn’t know what to do. What to think. He dwelled on his father right up until Julie’s text came in, but now his mind attached itself to Bryan’s whereabouts. He should have checked on him last night. Even before that, he shouldn’t have let Bryan go home by himself, not after what he saw, not after what they did. He had though; Michael went home, got in bed and ended up calling Thera instead. Now…
Except he didn’t know how to finish that sentence, because there wasn’t any proof about anything. They had nothing, except that Bryan wasn’t at home, wasn’t at Julie’s, and wasn’t answering his cellphone. If it hadn’t been for Saturday night, when they went out there and saw that thing, Michael wouldn’t have thought anything of this—but they did go, and Bryan hadn’t been right when they were out there.
Thera’s car pulled up to the field, parking up on the hill instead of down next to the tree line. Michael looked at the field below them, something about it bothering him. He didn’t know why, but…he didn’t want to be here. Not at the site, necessarily, but here—parked here.
“Let’s go to the other side,” he said.
“Why?”
“I don’t like this, leaving our car here. If the cops do show up, they’ll come this way, and they’ll see our car right off the bat.”
“Okay,” Thera said, starting the engine. “You going to be able to find the crash site from the other side?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
They drove the five minutes to the west side of the woods, pulling off the shoulder of the road and parking ten feet from both the road and trees. They got out and started walking, Michael leading the way, trying to assess where they needed to walk to get there. It was easier now, with the sun shining instead of the tree canopy blocking out the moon. It should have felt better too, or at least that’s what Michael thought. It shouldn’t have felt…scary. That was the only word that worked in these woods, despite how childish it sounded. Scary. There weren’t any muggers here, shouldn’t be anything that could hurt either of them.
Except Michael knew that wasn’t true. He knew that may have been true a week ago, that without muggers and criminals, there wasn’t much to fear in this world. But he had been out here before, and he had seen something that he shouldn’t have. It wasn’t from this world, and that alone made it dangerous in Michael’s mind. There shouldn’t have been danger out here, that was true, and the sunlight should have made him feel it less, but it didn’t. Every step he moved closer to that ring of ash, he felt the weight of that white orb (spaceship, it was a spaceship, Michael) grow heavier.
“I don’t want to be here,” he said aloud, but didn’t slow down. He wanted Thera to know that, wanted her to feel some of his fear. She might feel some of her own already, but that was different than Michael’s. He had seen it; she hadn’t. He wanted her to know that this was dangerous, that they shouldn’t be doing this. “You need to go back.”
He didn’t turn around and she didn’t say anything, but he heard her feet still walking behind him, crunching the dead debris on the ground.
It took them longer this time, but after thirty minutes, they found the site.
The ash was untouched.
“It’s not here,” he said. “It was in the middle, right there in the middle.” He pointed, seeing the white globe in his mind.
Thera didn’t say anything, just crossed the barrier into the ash, and started walking toward the center.
“Thera!” Michael shouted, already thinking that whatever possessed Bryan had taken ahold of her.
“It’s okay; I just want to see it,” she said, stopping briefly to look at him.
Her eyes weren’t blank; they were Thera’s. Michael let out the breath trapped in his lungs.
Thera turned and started walking forward again, while Michael watched. He wasn’t going back in there, had no desire to touch that ash again. When she reached the center, she slowly did a three-sixty, looking at the entire landscape.
“You came in from over there?” She asked, stopping her turn.
“I don’t know,” Michael said, having to shout now.
“I think so. I can see your steps up around the start of the ring, two pairs. But, Michael, did he ever make it all the way to the center, or did you stop him up there?”
“He didn’t make it. I pulled him back.” Michael started circling the edge of the ash, walking to the top of the area that Thera was looking at.
“There are footsteps down here. There’s a path in the ash that comes all the way to me,” she said.
Michael stood at basically the same place he had when he came with Bryan, looking at the footprints he now saw, that he hadn’t been able to in the darkness. There were a lot of them, his, Bryan’s, and both of theirs turning around and heading back up to this spot. But there was another set too, one a few feet away from the original two pairs.
“Those aren’t ours,” Michael said.
“Over here, there’s more,” Thera said, turning again. Michael followed her around the edge, and saw them.
“I don’t know. I don’t know who made them.”
“You only came the once?” She asked, as if clarifying in her own mind, getting the story completely straight.
“Yes. Once on Saturday, and that’s it.”
“Spread another twenty feet!” Someone shouted from behind Michael. He spun around, looking into the woods, not yet able to see where the voice had come from. Just as fast, he turned back to Thera, her eyes wide and staring at him.
“Go,” he mouthed, his voice not making a sound, but Thera got the message.
She took off running back through her own footprints, and Michael followed around the ring’s edge. They ran, as fast as their legs could move, as fast as their lungs could fill their cells with the oxygen needed to move them. They didn’t care about the sounds they made; they only cared about getting out of that place, away from whoever was shouting behind them.
* * *
“People have been here,” Andrew said.
Will didn’t need him to say it—he could see the footprints all over this place. He hadn’t seen them the other night when he showed up, but the sunlight showed them everywhere. Multiple paths and multiple pairs. This wasn’t one person, but at least two, and probably more.
“Scan it,” Will said.
The three of them stood just inside the ash. The two s
couts were named Andrew and Lane; Will never asked their last names. He didn’t even know, nor care, if their first names were legit. These two lived in the shadows, just as he did.
He watched as they each started their work, a work that Will didn’t understand fully. The world was changing, and fast. He’d been in this business thirty years, and every decade brought something new, but this last one felt different. This last one, the one where these two guys made their name, felt like it was leaving him behind.
Age, he knew that’s what did it. He wasn’t being left behind so much as he was just failing to keep up—but it all came to the same. He didn’t know what these two scouts were doing, though he thought he knew what the end result would be, what it was supposed to tell him. Would there come a time when he didn’t even understand that? Would there be a time when he couldn’t keep up at all, when he just stopped moving?
It wouldn’t come to that, he didn’t think.
Numerous people having shown up here. Whatever landed now missing, apparently. They were three days behind impact. The three of them here weren’t making it out of this, and Will understood that even if these two had no clue. They would soon enough, though.
He followed the footsteps as the two scouts put handheld computers to the ash. Will walked each path, including the one he thought was his own. He found a path that walked down slowly, and then the footsteps ran back after circling around the center for a bit. He followed them, walking out of the ash and into the woods, not looking back at the two men.
Will carefully traced where he thought the steps should lead, and after a few minutes, he saw evidence that there had been another person, too. Both of them running, pounding through the dead leaves and broken tree branches. Whoever had been here hadn’t cared about leaving a trail; they had cared about getting the hell out as fast as they could. He squatted down at one of the branches broken by a footfall. He picked it up, turning it over in his hand, not really looking at it, but just holding onto it. Whoever broke it had been running from one of two things: whatever made the impact, or him.