by RB Stutz
The couple paused when they saw me and stared with cold eyes. The man urged the woman forward. She hesitated, but began to move. I watched them walk down the hall and disappear around a corner. It was time. I took a deep breath and stepped towards the door.
The hospital room was small and cramped, adorned in blue and pink pastels. In the corner was an assortment of flowers and balloons. I fixed my attention on the colorful bouquets and moved to take a seat in an empty chair. Some time passed as I sat in silence. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to look at her, at them. It was so much harder than I’d thought it would be.
“Your mom says they look like you did in your baby pictures,” a young female voice said.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and looked up.
Lying on the bed was a girl, my age. Her features were much like her mother’s, slightly rounder, and more natural in their beauty, unmarred by attempts at artificial youth. Her emerald eyes sparkled. I cared so much for her, for some reason, even more so right then.
“They are so cute. I can’t believe we made them together,” the girl said.
I looked over towards the foot of the bed, at the two carts that held the two newborns, wrapped tightly in white blankets, like large burritos. I began to shake. It was too much. I was their father. She was their mother. How could we just give them to someone else? They were ours to take care of. We made them.
That was just it though. We couldn’t take care of them and I knew it. We still had two more years of high school and then college. We made a mistake and now we were parents. My rational mind knew the best thing for the babies was to send them to a home with parents who could provide for them. They could have a shot at a good normal life. I couldn’t give that to them.
I continued to stare at the sleeping bundles. “They’re beautiful. How are you?” I looked up at the girl. I had some composure back now.
“I’m fine. Sad,” the girl said, her eyes wet.
I couldn’t watch her cry. I was barely holding on as it was.
“How did it go with your parents?” I asked.
“They’re ready for it to be over. They don’t understand why I’m sad. They say I should be glad we found such a nice couple willing to take twin newborns. They’re right. I know it’s best for the babies, but they’re ours. I’m sad.”
“When will they be here?” I asked.
“Soon.”
It was a closed adoption. I wasn’t going to see the babies again.
“Do you know what they’re going to name them?” I asked.
“No. But why don’t we name them before they come, so they’ll always have a name to us?” she suggested.
“Okay. Any ideas?” I asked.
She blushed. “Okay, maybe I’ve already named them.”
I smiled. “Let’s hear them.”
“Logan and Landon. I’ve always liked those names,” she said.
“Those are good names,” I said.
I walked over to the sleeping babies. “Logan and Landon. I don’t really know what to say. You’re both beautiful. I’m sorry we can’t take care of you. We’ll miss getting to see you grow. You’re in good hands though. Your new parents will take good care of you. I love you,” I said. It took every ounce of control to not break down. It was so hard.
There was a knock at the door. I looked up towards the girl. Our eyes met. I didn’t want to give them up. We could make it work somehow. I loved their mother and I loved them. Wasn’t that all that mattered? Didn’t they need their mom and dad?
The door opened and a young couple walked in. They greeted us and went to the babies. They looked really happy. If we had just been a few years older, we could’ve been happy like that. It wasn’t fair.
The couple chatted with us for a few minutes before the nurse came in. We said our final goodbyes before the nurse took the babies and the couple followed. Everything at that point faded to black.
It was later that evening. I was running on a dark suburban street. It was a cool night, a pleasant evening, perfect for running. My head was clear. I felt good. Every few minutes a car passed, but other than that, the night was very peaceful. As I ran, I sang some fast-paced punk song in my head I only knew half the words to. I think it was something by the Ramones, but the tune wasn’t all that clear to me.
As I sang, there was a light coming up from behind me, another car. There was no sidewalk on that stretch of street, but I was all the way over to the side and unconcerned.
The light got closer, and I continued on, singing to myself. The singing kept real thoughts out. I was fine as long as I didn’t think. As the light got even brighter, it seemed like the car should have passed already. I heard the constant hum of an engine and got the feeling the vehicle was keeping pace with me. I turned my head to make sure I was out of the vehicles’ path and was blinded by the light. A sharp agonizing pain flooded my body.
I woke up screaming, my eyes wide open. An echo of the pain I felt in the dream was still pulsing through my body, but fading some with each second that passed. Cold dampness covered my head and I sat up to see the pillow was soaked. The room was dim, lit by spots of sunlight escaping from behind the closed curtains. When I noticed the large red heart I was laying on I remembered where I was.
After giving myself a few moments to let my confused state pass, I sat up and stretched my stiff back and neck, both cracking with the movement. The dream was so real and it seemed to get more real each time I had it.
The first time I had the dream was over a year before, when I was still at the HUB. That first dream came as fragments of the one I just had. Each new dream added more detail, like a lost memory working to claw its way back and always ended with the light and pain. With each new scene the full picture better coalesced. The cold glare of the girl’s parents was new.
I didn’t know any of the people in the dream, well at least I didn’t remember if I knew them. The only memories I had were those of the previous eighteen months. All I knew of myself was what I was told about the life I had before waking, which wasn’t much, and wasn’t from a reliable source. Everything before was a blank void.
The dream always stirred up such strong emotions, love, pride, and sadness. I knew in some way it had to be real, that they must be real: a part of a past, a life I couldn’t remember. I was only sixteen, I think. Could I have really been a dad to twins? I shook those thoughts away. It didn’t matter.
The clock on the bedside table read 3:02 pm in red flickering numbers. I’d been asleep for a while. I’d needed the rest. Although reduced, the headache was still there and I decided I’d better take something before it grew in intensity again.
Distant pain exploded back into constant throbbing as I rose from the bed. I stumbled in reaction and went for the duffle bag, found the small bottle inside, and took two of the large white pills, popping them in my mouth. The now warm, energy drink helped to wash them down.
A few minutes later the caffeine had cleared away some of the fog. I made my way to the bathroom. The hot water that sputtered from the shower head in the dingy tub was absolute heaven and by the time I was out and drying off, the head pain was already beginning to recede.
Still wearing the white not-so-soft towel around my waist, I found my small laptop in the bag and powered it on. I stripped on a clean pair of jeans and black t-shirt before taking a seat at the room’s small desk. The seat to the small chair creaked as I sat in front of the computer and logged on, opening the browser.
The Rocky Ridge Inn was the type of motel that gave you free HBO, but you were out of luck if you needed an internet connection. I tethered my phone and was able to connect with no problem and put on a little Sex Pistols for some background music. The first song to come on was “Holiday.” I sang along as I navigated to a news search engine.
I didn’t have a home. There were no friends or family for me out there, at least that I was aware of. I tried for some time to find any information about myself, about my past. My
searches were fruitless. With no name or really any frame of reference to go by, except for the falsities I’d been told, it really was an impossible task. It didn’t take long before I finally gave up the search to find out who I really was. It didn’t matter anymore. Whoever I had been, no longer existed.
Circumstance created the person I was now. I did what I did because it was the only thing that made any sense for me. It provided some comfort to numb the pain I held inside. That pain was unfortunately one of the few things I did remember, way too well.
Whenever I finished in one place, I tried not to waste time before finding the next. Staying busy did just that, kept me too busy to dwell on certain things: the pains of things I remembered and knowing there was a life I didn’t. Fortunately for me and unfortunately for the victims, there were plenty of twisted people out there for me to help stop, plenty of atrocities I could help end. Now the business in Troy was over, I was in research mode, looking for where to go next.
I was looking for information regarding missing persons and murder cases, taking notes of anything I thought I may be able to help with. Usually I tried to limit my search to the Pacific Northwest but had toyed with the idea of moving on to another region. It wasn’t the time though; I wasn’t ready, not yet. Limiting myself geographically like I did, didn’t really make any rational sense, but I guess the pain that tied me to the area kept me from being able to move on.
There were a few missing person cases and what looked like serial killings in both the Portland and Seattle areas that looked promising. I noted the key information on a half-used complimentary note pad. I would decide where to go later.
I looked up and saw it was close to 6:30 pm. I opened the drapes some and saw the sun had set enough to allow me to safely leave. Once I had everything loaded back into the bag I walked out the door, leaving the key on the bed.
Outside, at the back of the truck, I opened the squeaky rear door. I set the duffle on the ground and reached in to pull a latch which revealed a compartment under the floor of the vehicle. The compartment contained a selection of various handguns, a couple knives, and a sawed off shotgun as well as other equipment I needed from time to time, including the PTD secured in a small steel box. These were all tools of my trade, things I had procured over the past year in order to be prepared for any situation I’d find myself in. There didn’t seem to be anything missing from my small arsenal so I closed the compartment and loaded the duffel inside.
My stomach rumbled as I turned to the small café I’d noticed earlier, greedy for the delicious sustenance sure to be inside. My greedy mouth salivated at the thought and the decision was made. I would grab a bite to eat before heading out again. After that, I would decide in which direction to head.
Now, I like food, and when I don’t get much of it for an extended period of time, I really start to like food and a lot of it. That’s probably not too different from any other male teenager, but show me anyone and I’ll eat them under the table. As I walked over to the café my mind was full of gluttonous fantasies that reveled on all I would eat once inside.
The door’s bell rang as I entered the small café and the combined fragrance of grease, smoke and coffee rushed at me. The scents were pleasant together and attacked my ravenous stomach, causing it to jump into fits of rumbling.
The Elk Stand Café was a quaint little place, with five booths along the front window and a bar with eight stools on the other side of the room. Behind the bar was a small area for the wait staff, with the kitchen on the other side of an open window just behind that. On the wall, above the window to the kitchen, was a row of mounted animal heads: a moose, an elk, a bear, and a wolf. It seemed maintenance of the trophies wasn’t a priority, as they were all covered in dust, cobwebs and neglect. The unfinished natural wood styling of the tables and chairs gave the café an authentic attempt at a Rocky Mountain theme, I guessed.
The café wasn’t busy, with only three customers besides me. A couple sat at one of the window booths. They had to at least be in their seventies and seemed to be disagreeing with each other on some issue, but I couldn’t hear what it was they were saying. Neither of them looked over as I entered. There was also a brunette woman sitting at the bar with her back to me.
Another woman stood behind the bar with her back also to me, talking with someone in the back kitchen. I walked up to the bar and took a seat a couple down from the brunette.
“May I help you?” the middle aged woman asked with a light, pleasant voice as she turned and approached. She was a shorter, stout woman with dark blonde hair pulled back tightly. She wore a red flannel shirt, jeans and an apron. The name tag on the apron said “Olive.”
“I’ll start with a cup of coffee and would like to look at a menu,” I said with a friendly tone.
She smiled. “Sure hon.”
Olive poured the cup of coffee and handed me the menu.
“Let me know when you’re ready to order.”
As I opened the two-page white paper menu, I heard “so we meet again” from the young woman sitting two seats to the right of me. I looked up and recognized her as the girl I had briefly talked with at the truck stop earlier.
“Hello again,” I said, trying to be friendly and not let nervous words stumble out. Now that I saw her again I felt bad about being rude before.
She had an empty soda glass and near-empty plate littered with the remnants of a sandwich in front of her. She was wearing the same light blue jacket she’d had on before and this time her brown hair was pulled into a neat pony tail.
“So I guess you decided to stay after all,” she said. “Are you staying around here?”
“Yep, you were right, I couldn’t resist the beautiful day. I’m checked in at the inn next door,” I said. I wasn’t going to explain I had really checked in to sleep through the day and was getting ready to head back out on the road once I left the café.
“I just checked in there myself,” she said. “I wasn’t planning on staying the night here, but with such a nice day, I had to take in some of the local hiking.”
I smiled and nodded in agreement.
“My name is Laura,” she said with her hand stretched out towards me.
I reached for her hand and shook it.
“I’m Michael.”
“Nice to meet you Michael,” she smiled. “Are you traveling alone?”
She was absolutely striking with the most gorgeous emerald green eyes. She was the type of girl who looked best not dressed up with a lot of make-up and fancy clothing, but natural in a casual shirt and jeans. Her facial features had both a chiseled shape as well as softness, allowing the perception of both strength and kindness with a healthy dose of hotness.
“It’s just me. I’m visiting my cousin in Oregon. I convinced my parents to stay home this time. They weren’t convinced my truck could make the trip, but in the end they let me go,” I lied. “How about you?”
Olive interrupted the conversation and asked Laura if she was ready for her check as she cleared her plate and glass.
“Yes please,” Laura said.
Olive turned to me.
“Have you decided what you want?”
“Ahh yes,” I said while fumbling through the menu, obviously not having looked at it yet.
“I’ll take the double cheeseburger platter with a coke and a slice of apple pie,” I said. “No, make it two.”
“Two of what?” she asked.
“I’m sorry. Two of everything.”
She looked skeptically at me, her brow raised, but then shrugged.
“Sure hon,” she said as she walked off to place the order.
“Boy, big appetite,” Laura said smiling.
I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m hungry and that’s just for starters.” I teased.
I hadn’t had nearly enough to eat when I was in Troy. Using my ability made me weak, especially when I didn’t get enough to eat. Looking for the girl took way too much out of me. The headaches the effort caused were the wo
rst I’d ever had. It was the longest period I’d spent looking without any breaks. The throbbing in my head had almost been unbearable. I couldn’t begin to count how many pills I’d taken to be able to tolerate it.
The pain usually got better after I could stop looking for a while and rest. The sleep had really helped as well as the latest round of pill popping. The throbbing was still there, but in the background. I hoped eating a real meal would take care of what remained. Compared to protein bars and food from vending machines I considered a pile of cheeseburgers and fries a real meal. A little beef and grease was exactly what the doctor ordered.
“Yes. I’m traveling alone as well. I’m heading back to school in Seattle. I’m a freshman at UW. I just spent the last couple of weeks back home in Texas. So where do you call home?” Laura asked.
I tried hard to avoid casual conversations like this as I’d found I wasn’t very good at conveying false information about myself in a convincing manner. I had my standard response prepared, but my presentation of it was mediocre at best. I’d already deviated from the standard for some reason so was on a slippery slope already.
The truth was the closest thing I’d had to a home since leaving the HUB was my old beat up truck. I moved from place to place, never staying longer than needed. Staying too long in any one place attracted attention.
I was pretty sure most people I interacted with considered me rude. Whenever people tried to strike up conversations, I provided short monosyllabic answers which fueled their disinterest, not giving them a chance to go on. Ok, I know I was rude, but I did need to stay under the radar and I really didn’t want to get to know people. I was better off if I could keep my distance. Perfect cover as an angsty teenager I guessed. My life was a lonely one, but loneliness was better than failure and heartbreak.