Chapter 12
(The lighthouse, October 15)
Max just sat there, breathless, astonished. The rough touch of the wind and rain felt even stronger now that the real, material world was catching up with her. Then the truth sank in, planted its ugly roots into her guts — now Chloe was gone. Forever.
The dreams she'd had... and this last moment... they were the very last seconds she'd ever get to spend with... her partner in crime... partner in time... her partner.
She didn't know what to do with herself. How to handle this huge pain of a truth. Her chest felt tight and the lump in her throat wouldn't stop growing. Maybe it'd kill her. At least she'd be with Chloe again.
But instead of dying, she just burst into tears. Sobs so violent that she almost choked on them.
She cried for what seemed to last a year at least. During all this time it had been raining restlessly. Her whole body was shaking. She was frozen to the bones, her body so tensed that a single move would hurt.
She needed to see someone. She needed to talk to someone. Someone who would understand how she felt…
She got to her feet. A real struggle, as if her sore body was devoured by rust.
Joyce... she had to go see Joyce. She only would now... she only would understand.
The risky walk from the cliff to the town was kind of blurry. Nothing happened — or if anything did, she probably wouldn't have noticed anyway.
The town offered a desolated view. The saturated drains were spilling out in the deserted streets. Cars were rare, and the bus service had finally been canceled, as Max had seen at the lighthouse's stop.
But the city didn't matter to her. It could be drowned by this downpour for all she cared. And she could drown into it, too.
She made it to the Two Whales eventually. Joyce greeted her with a tired smile, that quickly turned into wide eyes and a shocked expression.
— Max! Oh dear, look at yourself. What's got into you?
— Joyce... I…
Chloe's mother turned around the counter and reached her, a concerned look on her face. Max was about to cry again, and Joyce seemed to feel it, as she sheltered Max against herself, one arm around the girl's shoulders. She lead her to the back of the restaurant. She helped her remove Chloe's jacket — without saying a word about it — then her drenched hoodie. Max ended up wearing only a t-shirt, and the warmth of the diner against her cold skin somehow made her a bit more aware of her surroundings.
Joyce grabbed some clean dish towels in a cupboard and handed them to Max:
— Try to dry your hair, honey, she said. I'll give you my jacket…
She disappeared for a second, and when she came back, Max had done her best absorbing the water from her hair and the few visible inches of her skin.
Joyce put the drenched towels aside and lovingly wrapped Max into her own jacket.
— There, there. There's not much I can do for your jeans but at least half of you won't be cold any longer.
They locked gazes for a while, Joyce's hands resting on Max's shoulders.
— What on Earth were you doing outside, Max? she asked.
Max took a deep breath, tried to swallow the lump that had never really left her throat, and let out in a shaky, emotional whisper:
— Chloe... she's gone now... she's gone…
Joyce contemplated Max. She certainly assumed that her words were that of true realization after a denial phase — she couldn't know what Max actually meant.
But she had affection and care in her eyes, and she gently hugged Max.
— I know, hun, she replied in her low, comforting voice. I know.
They stood like that for a few minutes, and this gentle hug meant more than a thousand words... Max felt understood, and a bit lighter.
— Max, go take a seat, Joyce suggested. I'll bring you a coffee and something to eat, right?
Max nodded.
— Thanks, Joyce.
— Anytime.
They headed back to the main room and Max sat at a booth close to the TV. The place was almost empty due to the insane weather — only a couple of truckers who had had nowhere else to stop.
Joyce came back with a warm coffee and two waffles. Max thanked her and immediately cupped the mug in her palms — on her numb, cold skin, the warmth almost hurt. But it reminded her how alive she was, and made her feel a bit quieter. The harsh pain she'd felt by the lighthouse was slowly turning into some sort of sour melancholy.
She let herself appreciate a sip of coffee and a chunk of waffle — to which her stomach responded with a satisfied growl.
Soon enough she was back on worrying, though — how could it be that no news had leaked about Jefferson yet?
The local evening news would start half an hour later. Maybe she'd get to learn more about it then. They wanted to make sure all their evidences were valid or something. Or exploring both the bunker and the junkyard took them too long. Some uncomfortable feeling settled in Max's chest, though, but she did her best to ignore it. Come on. Nothing could go wrong this time.
She focused on her meal, eating slowly, watching dumb and dumber ads. Knowing her relief would come soon, in the form of a TV news, helped her calm down even more.
The opening credits finally started. And as she hoped, the main title was Blackwell!
She let out a sigh of relief — before realizing the news were not at all what she expected.
They did go to the barn.
They did find the bunker.
They were now showing it to the whole world —
No white blinding spotlights. No tripods or cameras. No red binders.
Just an empty room with shelves full of food and supplies in case of a disaster.
No way... no fucking way…
Max got to her feet, slowly. Something cracked in her skull, and a blinding, deafening rage flooded her. Her neck, her cheeks, her ears, her whole face were burning. She could almost experience the taste of blood.
And Jefferson was explaining bullshit about what he called his shelter. He was serious but friendly, suggesting that any student in need would find help there in case of a disaster…
Oh the irony.
She could barely hear him through the anger that was fueling her pounding heart.
— Bullshit! she shout. That's all... bullshit…
The rage died down, devoured by a sudden rush of despair. Max felt a weakness in her legs and next thing she knew, she was kneeled on the dusty tiles of the floor, the pieces of her shattered mug bathing in a pool of coffee next to her.
Outside, the thunder rumbled.
— What's wrong, Max? Joyce worried. Are you alright?
She was crouching next to Max, slightly brushing her back, a deep concern echoing in her voice.
Max couldn't bring herself to face Joyce. She wanted to tear the world apart, rip it to pieces, and she couldn't even explain why without looking like a crazy brat.
She zoned out, lost in her feelings.
Next thing she knew, she was on the parking lot of the Two Whales, with Joyce, in a car she'd probably borrowed to a colleague.
— What happened, Max? Joyce asked again.
— I just... it's just that…
Joyce seemed to wait for a proper reply, but Max looked away. She was too tired to imagine a consistent answer, even though the coldness was helping her to regain her spirits.
— Fine... listen, Joyce sighed. I'll take you back home, you'll stay overnight so that I can take care of you. You need to rest after all of this mess... poor thing.
— Sorry, Joyce, Max whispered.
The engine roamed.
After Nathan's arrest, Jefferson probably feared to get busted and turned the creepy bunker into a harmless shell.
Max felt like she had failed.
She had failed avenging Rachel.
She had failed bringing peace to Chloe.
This was the only believable explanation — she had failed.
She started crying again — man, that was getting old.
Joyce cast a few worried glances at Max.
— Are you sure you're okay, hun?
— I'm just... super tired... exhausted. As if I were... getting crazy…
There was nothing to reply. Joyce just gave her her best look of sympathy, and focused back on the road.
Some branches were lying down on the asphalt here and there. The few soil not suffocating under the roadsides' pavement was carried off by the water flowing down the street.
The road was slippery as ice, and the surroundings themselves looked threatening in the flickering light of the street lamps — Max had seen Arcadia Bay like this only once.
Joyce was probably the most careful driver in the entire universe. She had nothing to fear with her behind the steering wheel, even through this insane mess…
They turned to the right. The Prices' house was close now.
Something huge crashed right in front of them and Joyce swerved to avoid it…
She lost control of the car.
As an instinct she extended her right arm as a shield in front of Max.
As an instinct Max extended her right arm straight forward, yelling "No!".
