"The end is approaching us. We can't just sit around and act like nothing is happening, like we can just wait it out. There's one more Wildpower left to discover. Circle Daybreak is so close." Rowan was like a rambling coach, giving a pep speech to her team before a big game.
"And we've been living our lives in Briar Creek, studying Calculus and feeding off goats." Kestrel sounded disgusted, like their lives were menial. The way city people talk about those flyover states like – people actually live in Iowa? I wanted to sock Kestrel for the thought. Our lives weren't meaningless.
"We've been laying low." Rowan was a dictionary of better words. I looked at her thankfully. She was the student in class with the right answer to everything, who saves the others from the embarrassment of knowing nothing. Right now I could tell she was conflicted. She was trying to boost the morale of a grumpy group while trying to convince herself that everything will work out.
"So then what can we do?" Mark pointedly asked the question we were all thinking.
"Well, we can't stay here." Rowan stated as if it were obvious. I tilted my head and looked for a flaw in her words, a reason why Briar Creek would be a big red X over the Night World map. Isn't this the perfect place for laying low? She wasn't telling us something.
"Roadtrip!" Jade couldn't keep quiet for too long. Her threw her hands up in the air like a kid at the height of a rollercoaster.
"We're going to count on Ash for what to do next. But for right now, we need to leave. By tomorrow morning." Rowan stated briskly. My jaw dropped. Despite what we talked about earlier, Mark's face sank as well. I thought of my dad, who was undoubtedly watching reruns in the living room with a unfinished crossword puzzle on his knee. For him, apocalypse meant not being able to solve nineteen across. We can't just leave him.
"And by 'we' you mean we, right?" Kestrel gestured to the three of them.
"I think that everyone involved could be in danger." Rowan looked at me with pity. "I'm so sorry Mary-Lynnette. We never meant to get you tied up in all of this."
"You mean she tied us up in this." Kestrel shouted accusingly. Her acrylic finger stretched out in my direction, literally pointing at me like I was caught red handed destroying her family.
"Kestrel!" Rowan scolded as if she had said to much. They are most definitely not telling me something.
"Enough of this. What did Ash tell you?" I stomped my foot as if they had told me I couldn't have dessert until I finish my broccoli. I was getting tired of keeping quiet while they were so nonchalantly talking about dragging me from my home. I'm not leaving with the knowledge that I might not return. Not knowing why. Not knowing if it's worth it.
"He said we need to be more careful. To hide. We've been here for too long, finding us would be hardly difficult. He just wants to keep everyone safe, Mare. It can be temporary until we figure out a better plan." Rowan spoke sternly. I blew the hair off of my forehead with a whiff of air.
Temporary. Temporary isn't bad, right? I thought of getting a shot at the doctor's office. Needle held in the air, grip on my forearm to hold me down. It will hurt only for a little while. The pain will be temporary. And if you don't get the shot you're stuck in bed with the flu. If we don't take this precaution it could lead the danger to my family, to my home.
"Where are we going?" I asked, timid for the response.
"Ash is going to figure this all out for us, he'll be back shortly." My body warmed at the thought. I felt a flush deepen my cheeks, but I ignored it.
"And he'll give us more answers?"
Rowan gulped, a human response. "You can take that up with him I suppose."
I looked back at Mark who was already nodding in agreement. Jade's arms were wound around his like a vine. I would go with her, he had said earlier. His commitment could be his undoing. But it would be mine as well.
"I will."
I called it. I watched my father struggle over Jeopardy questions, scolding Alex about how the right answer couldn't possibly be right. Claudine giggled at his desperation to correct, like a wife's sigh of thinking, 'whatever you say, honey'. She sat on the couch with her scrawny legs folded across each other, a knitting project resting on her lap. The fireplace was on, despite the aspect of a rising summer, crackling against the burnt wood.
We came home to bombard their game show evening for a sibling ditch effort in convincing them that an end of the year road trip was the best way for me to spend my post-graduation. We had planned something rather well thought out, drew on a traditional map and everything. It involved a nice swing down the pacific coast and enjoying a long drive along the Grand Canyon. If the trip wasn't a complete facade, I would have actually enjoyed the idea.
I thought about my mother then. I only let myself think of her around big occasions, which have been happening more frequently. Graduation day I imagined her on those bleachers, whistling at the announcement of my name, and I see her now on the couch of my living room. Truth was she would've supported the trip. Hell, she would've given us her own keys, wishing us a good time. While our father wanted what was best, what was wise, my mother wanted our happiness. To live life beyond the walls of this ranch home. Her response was never 'no' to anything new, to anything that could be a story.
And, of course, I always thought of her meeting Ash. The biggest occasion.
He could be my story.
Mark and I stood in the door frame, watching our guardians enjoy a simple weekend night. An empty bowl of abandoned popcorn kernels sat on the table, a pool of oily butter formed at the bottom. I felt unnerved ruining their night with a possible fight. Despite the fact that Mark and I were fairly reliable, we were still teenagers. Anything big like this would take a bit of convincing.
In that moment, Mark and I looked at each other with the same soft eyes.
It both occurred to us that we might not come back for a very long time. Longer than a trip to California. If we come back at all.
"Maybe we should talk to them about the trip tomorrow." Mark read my thoughts while putting a hand on my shoulder. Instead we poked our heads in, proving our safety from the uneventful (to them, at least) party and claimed we were too tired for a round of Jeopardy.
We both walked upstairs with heavy heads. We both knew we wouldn't be having that conversation.
Through the night I struggled. I would say that I was asleep for about two hours and half asleep the other four. My mind would wander between reality and dreams, drifting in and out making me forget what was real.
I was most troubled with a dream of a funeral parlor, which held the sisters, my father and Claudine, friends from school and close neighbors. Everyone dressed in black, fiddling with the cheese platter and forcing small talk. Budding roses were the only burst of color, matching the color of blood. The sisters' faces were sagged with morose, eyes dull through curtains of hair. When they talked their voices came out warped, slow and unclear. I tried to hear them, straining my ears in the dream as if it were worth a shot to try.
I panicked. I couldn't find Mark. I couldn't find Ash. I tore through the crowd like a mad woman, scratching at my obstacles when they did nothing to move. Drapes of black clothing blurred together like a cloud, choking me within its atmosphere. I began shouting though I couldn't hear myself. No one turned to my cries because no one was listening. People just nodded to the processional music like bands of zombies, minds stale due to lack of thought.
I found the coffin, blanketed in black chiffon like an outdated Dracula movie. The casket was closed, a wreath with woven feathers barracked the clasp to entry. I stood still.
Ash stood directly in front of the casket. His wore a crisp black suit and his hair was slicked back, tucked in by his back collar. My heart burned even in my dreams. His head began to turn, slowly revolving around to look at me. The smile began at the left corner of his lips, inching upward at an impossible curve. I felt myself open my mouth to scream for him, but nothing came out.
I was in a cloud of false reality again, feeling fingertips on my temple, massaging my mind into ease. The pads of the fingers trickled down my face to my lips, tracing the outline until they reached the cupid's bow arc of my mouth. I felt one last cool burst of air across my forehead and my eyes were open.
I was sucked back to reality like being finally pushed out of a thin tunnel. My room was wide and bare. I focused on the plastic glow-in-the-dark stickers in the shapes of stars until my mind gravitated back to my body. I sat up, remembering my actual life.
I retreated out to the hallway, ignoring what I was wearing and the cold floor against my feet. Mark's door was wide open, he scrambled around wildly around the pig sty of his room. He flung a few things into a duffel bag, including his favorite Seahawks sweater and a crime novel he began but never planned to finish. He was panicking, winning the worst packer award.
He looked up at me with a pair of worn boxers in his hand.
"It's time."
Claudine and my dad had left early for church, mostly due to Claudine's insistent nagging that they really should pay their respects to the Lord. They shared that guilt of sitting around on Sundays instead of praying with the rest of the town. I hadn't realized how late I woke up, which was a poor choice considering I should be getting ready. The sisters told me they would be planning most of the night and that we should get our rest, but I still felt unproductive.
While Mark had packed everything including his eighth grade wardrobe, I packed very little. I clutched onto a small pink bag which was a free giveaway after spending fifty dollars at Victoria Secret. I stuffed it with jeans and T-shirts and a compiled stash of my graduation cash. I took a long, sad look at my telescope, stroking the magnificent lens with a longing goodbye. I tried not to be too sentimental about anything, it would only make things worse. I sucked it up, straightened my shoulders and left my house with my head held high.
Opal Burdock had left behind a green truck with the sisters, a classic necessity for a farm of that size, but the sisters hated it. I think Rowan had tried to pawn it off for extra cash a few months ago but wasn't able to get rid of it. It now sat in front of my house, motor roaring and rattling, the bed jammed full. Rowan poked her head out with a disgruntled Kestrel pouting in the passenger's side. She was undoubtedly embarrassed to be seen in such a run down machine.
"How are we all going to fit in there?" I asked Rowan, clutching my bag to by chest.
"We're not." a voice responded behind me. He appeared behind me, like a shadow coming to form. My chest heaved in and out like a heavy accordion. I prayed slow and steady breathing would slow the pulsing of my heart. I knew he could hear it. I knew he could feel it.
I looked back at Ash with my eyes wide like a doll's. I thought about meeting him outside, so close to where we're standing now, for the first time. Him noticing formations in the night sky beyond human vision. His mystery remains the same. I still couldn't figure him out. We locked eyes for only a moment, his irises were a deep forest green.
He gestured to his car, already nestled in my driveway. "Let's get going then, shall we?"
We jammed the cars with what we could. The sisters had no shame in packing everything they own while I couldn't find anything that Ash had packed for himself. In fact, he was still wearing the same button down shirt and torn jeans from last night. Mark and I nestled into Ash's car, a deja vu of the awkward night before. Ash bounded around between the two cars like a nervous dad before a family vacation. He put up his finger to imply he needed one more minute and bounded into our house like he owned the place.
"What does he need in our house?" Mark questioned, ready to depart.
"Maybe he's taking some of Dad's clothes."
"Can't exactly imagine him wearing flannel." I eased my shoulders and laughed at the vision. Ash was in the front seat before I knew it. His eyes strayed from mine as he twisted the key and sped out of the driveway.
"Goodbye Briar Creek." Mark cheered, kicking his feet up onto the cushions of the backseat. He viewed this as a road trip, an exciting chance to leave Oregon. He closed his eyes, surprisingly able to sleep. I remembered when he was a kid he could sleep anywhere he was put. When Dad drove, Mark would pass out by the time he started the engine. I was the opposite. I couldn't sleep at night while the stars were out.
Ash and I rode in complete silence for the first hour, a silent refusal to lose at a childish game. We both fiddled with the music, our lips twisted with agitation to say the first word. He flipped to songs I've never heard of, classics. Music straight out of the '60s and '50s that I wasn't alive to hear when it was big. When the smooth undertone floated through the speakers I recognized it as Elvis. I fought the urge to smile when I noticed he was tempted to sing along. We remained silent.
I scanned the radio to find hits of pop and country, knowing he couldn't take the digital music and sympathized voices. He finally looked at me with dull look, his eyes a deep hue of blue. I grinned wide, waiting for him to lose and break the silence.
"This is not music."
I sang along, slightly off pitch. His eyebrows raised and the side of his mouth twitched. I hated this music too.
"I'm trying to pick music that I was alive for."
Ash nodded slowly as if it was a personal job to his age. "Just because I listen to Elvis doesn't mean your decade's music isn't worth listening to. Just not this." He gestured to the radio like it betrayed him. For the first time since he's been back, I felt the playful side of him rise to the surface. I cocked my head at him, playfully.
He reached for the glove box instinctively, flinging the latch open. His arm swiped my thigh before I could flinch. Zing! We both felt the hint of a spark and tried not to make it known. I straightened my back, smoothing each vertebrae into the seat. He swallowed hard, snatched a tape from the box and went back to his slouched position at the wheel. He jammed the tape into the car and the humming of the out-dated cassette began to stream. I noticed the dashboard had both a tape and CD player system for the car.
Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit rattled the speakers, the thick strumming of the guitar burned my ear drums. Ash began hitting the wheel with the palm of his hand, the wind from the open window warped the loose strands of his hair. I laughed above the wind, above the music, above our hopeless silence.
I thought about our lives this way. Our crazy, limitless, dangerous life together just like this. Driving wildly on the streets after a night in Vegas, a long trip through the mountains of Colorado or after sliding down multiple shots of tequila in Mexico. Our lives could be something that is so unfathomable to me right now. Slightly scary, yes. But immensely desirable.
I caught a flash of Ash's eyes and we held gazes for just a second. He continued the lyrics with a smirk. I knew he thought the same thing.
It was a moment we had before crashing back to the reality.