Chapter 14: He Ain't Even Old-Timey!

August 29, 2019

Chloe sat at the edge of the bed after the clock passed midnight, with her back to the sleeping Max, sparing the occasional over-the-shoulder glance to her adorable slumbering girlfriend.

Sleep was the enemy right now.

The storm was waiting for her on the other side of shut-eye.

Every time Chloe dreamed of the storm, she felt like her brain had been coated in itching powder from a joke shop. She figured that she was having these dreams for a reason, and that they were trying to tell her something, but trying to conjure their meaning made Chloe feel like she was an ant trying to study advanced calculus.

And… she was not above admitting that she was afraid.

Chloe wasn't convinced that the storm was getting bigger every time she saw it in her dreams, but it certainly did feel that way. She'd lived in Seattle and vacationed in Los Angeles once, and the small town punk had gotten slight vertigo staring at the skyscrapers for the first time. She'd known, theoretically, that buildings had a habit of getting so big, but to see it with her own eyes like that?

In every dream, it was like she was suspended in the air, shielded from harm, only to take in the unfathomable enormity of the storm, which had dwarfed every man-made structure she had ever born witness to. Chloe did not consider it outside the realm of possibility that the storm itself was giving her these dreams with the sole purpose of intimidating her. As if a weather pattern could use the same tactics as an ex-con stubbing out a cigarette on his tongue in a display of don't-fuck-with-me bravado.

Chloe stared at the carpet, emptying her mind of all thought as the sun began to rise and shine on her back through the window behind her.

She looked at the clock on the nightstand.

6:17 AM.

As the light grew brighter in the room, Chloe's own thoughts got dimmer, fuzzier, more sluggish as her body rebelled against her in the need for sleep. Chloe even went through a childish minute where she held her upper eyelids open with her fingers clutching her eyelashes.

But she had to let go. Her upper eyelids slapped down over her lower eyelids with the effect of a knockout punch. Her head lowered…

The sound.

The wet and the gray had been here before, but the sound.

It was an auditory black hole from which no other sound—and no rational thought—could escape. The rushing of the wind and the falling of the rain created a sound not unlike one would imagine a vacuum cleaner owned by Atlas. Rushing and cacophony to cause springing blood from the ears.

At the base of this storm, this vast column of malevolence, was the only color in sea or sky. A great brown cloud as the storm tore up the earth beneath it…

…and jerked back up again.

Chloe looked at the clock on the nightstand.

6:18 AM.

Max would be up soon. Her sleep cycle would no doubt be geared toward an early morning rise, even if she didn't have to go in to school today.

Chloe got off the bed and walked into the hall, closing the door behind her.

As softly as she could, as lightly as she could, she did some jumping-jacks to get herself used to staying awake. After which, one word drowned out every other in Chloe's vocabulary.

Omelet.

It was the one thing Chloe knew how to make, besides dirty jokes and inappropriate comments. She'd learned after she'd seen a Youtube tutorial, and the damnedest thing was, Max liked them. Chloe made them for her on special occasions.

Someone tried to strangle her to death yesterday. That was a special occasion, right?

Chloe padded into the kitchen, only to realize she'd yet to familiarize herself with it all that well. It seemed like they'd been evading death and biblical plagues for an eon, but Chloe had only moved in on Sunday. Today was Thursday.

Christ…

She found a new no-stick pan and one of those plastic flipper things (Max had corrected her, saying it was not a spatula). She got a bowl out of one of the upper cupboards and found a whisk in one of the drawers. A short voyage to the fridge found that Max had indeed bought eggs. A couple of more things out of the crisper, and Chloe set to work.

Chloe was surprised how into making this omelet she was. For the first time since coming to Arcadia Bay, this was a task that had an actual, tangible outcome. An effort with something to show for it. The only thing on her docket even close to that was…

No, no, don't think about that. Use water, not milk, Max doesn't like it when it's too fluffy, she says it's like eating a yoga mat.

Ten minutes later, Chloe was the proud creator of a diced ham and green olive omelet, all rolled-up like a burrito instead of the half-moon shape one gets at a restaurant. Salt and pepper were applied judiciously.

She found a fork, put it on the plate, and walked back into the bedroom. She sat down on the side of the bed and waved the plate under the sleeping Max's nose.

It worked like a charm.

Max's eyes fluttered open, and she smiled at what awaited her, and who was providing it.

"Awwww," Max said, her voice creaky with sleep. "This is, like, baby rabbit adorable."

Chloe gave Max the plate as she sat up. "Congratulations on making it another day not dying while dating me. The longer we're together, the bigger an achievement that is."

Max gave Chloe an "Oh c'mon!" look. "I'd be disappointed that you're down on yourself, but… that just means I get another one of these tomorrow."

Chloe smiled. "Let's talk."

Max spoke through a mouthful of food. "About what?"

"About anything," Chloe said. "Anything you want."

Max swallowed her mouthful of omelet and furrowed her brow. "You mean we can't talk about anything any other time? It has to be today?"

"Oh, we can talk about anything any time," Chloe said. "Today just has an exclamation point on it."

Max nodded. "I dunno," Max said. "I may get mushy."

Chloe felt her insides cringe. Hearing Max talk about how wonderful she thought Chloe was made her feel… the opposite of okay. Like she was talking about a version of Chloe that operated without her knowing.

"I said 'anything,'" Chloe said. "So…"

Max mulled it over for a moment as she chewed another mouthful. She swallowed, and seemed to have come up with something.

"When… did you know… that we were going to last?"

Chloe didn't even have to think about it. What she did have to think about was whether she wanted to tell this particular story. Quick! Stall!

"When you said you were getting mushy," Chloe said, "you weren't fucking around, were you?"

"I am the fluffier of the two," Max said.

"Okay," Chloe said. "Um… We were in bed."

"Oh," Max said. "Was it after we… y'know…"

Chloe sat straight up. "Had sex for the first time? Max, we're in our twenties and we've done ungodly things to each other. We don't need euphemisms for having sex."

"But was it though?"

"No," Chloe said. "At least not the first time. This was, like, after the first time. We were in my bed. It was over the winter break in your year at Blackwell. Joyce and Step-Douche were out of town, I think because he wanted to go to a gun show in Portland.

"I still can't believe she wanted to go to those," Max said.

"She didn't," Chloe said. "But, um… We were in bed. Naked. We had the house to ourselves. And I remember it was snowing outside, and the house didn't have great ventilation, so we were all huddled close to each other, trying to stay warm. But you got hungry. So you got up, and you got your shirt and a pair of your ugly-ass underwear on."

"I like my underwear."

"I don't," Chloe said. "I refuse to apologize about this."

Max stuck out her tongue. Chloe smiled.

"Anyway, you got those on, and you started to leave the room. And… as you reached the doorframe… you cut the loudest fart I have ever heard in my life."

It was like someone pulled a stopper on Max, and she started to deflate. She slouched, and her mouth fell.

"Chloe, I was being serious."

"So am I," Chloe said. "It… It wasn't the fact that you farted. It was the fact that you farted and didn't say anything. To be completely honest, I don't think you were aware that you did it."

Max put her plate down on the bed and crossed her arms. "And that told you we were going to last?"

"It did," Chloe said. "It's… Look, when people talk about love, they talk about it like it's this one big thing, y'know? Like that monolith in 2001. It's whole, one piece, and you can't argue with it. But that's not true. Love is a bunch of little things that come together. Like… You know how Gummi Bears can melt into this thick multicolored candy slab if you leave them in a car on a hot day?"

"And one of these things is me passing gas and not excusing myself?"

Chloe sighed. "Acceptance. That's kinda where I'm going with this. Up to that point in my life, I'd felt wanted. I'd felt tolerated. I had a mom and dad in my life that made me feel loved on some level, so it wasn't like that… but I'd never felt accepted. I never knew that anyone had ever been… y'know… comfortable around me. And a lot of that was my attitude, a lot of that was by design. But… that was the point where I knew I had someone who was going to accept me, warts and all. Because they revealed one of their warts to me without their knowing it. Without even caring if I knew it or not. I mean, if love isn't being comfortable enough around someone to drop some serious ass, then I don't know what is."

Chloe chanced a look at Max. She wasn't upset anymore.

"That's… actually really sweet."

"Good," Chloe said as some of the internal pressure eased. "I'm glad you think so."

Max picked up her plate again, and got another forkful. Something must have occurred to her, because she sat the fork down.

"One thing, though."

"What is it?" Chloe asked.

Max sighed, looking like she was debating whether or not to pull the trigger on what she was going to say.

"You say that's the moment you knew we were going to last, but… you left me a few months later."

All of the tiny hairs on Chloe's back woke up instantly.

"We're going there, aren't we?"

There was no malice in Max's voice when she said "You said 'anything.'"

Chloe sighed and rubbed her face. "When I walked out on you… I knew I was walking out on my last shot at being happy. Because I knew if I did it, then I wouldn't deserve it. But I was an idiot with a point to prove, and those are hard to stop. I will never stop kicking my ass for doing it. And I'll never stop being grateful that we found each other again."

Her words came from the heart, so much so that they bypassed all of her filters to the mouth. Chloe had no idea what she had sounded like when she said it. But apparently she had put some stank on her words, because Max's eyebrows rose in an expression of honest sympathy. Chloe was honestly curious as to what Max had to say to this.

Chloe would never find out, because someone started knocking at the front door.

Both Chloe and Max looked at the bedroom doorway with irritation.

"I'll get it," Chloe said.

Chloe tried her best not to stomp as she made her way to the living room, and did her level best to keep the scowl off of her face as she opened the door.

Warren .

"Uh, good morning, Chloe," Warren said.

"Morning," Chloe said, deliberately monotoning herself so she wouldn't sound angry. "Why are you at school when there's no school?"

"We were going to be dissecting frogs this week," Warren said. "I had to move them from the cooler in my classroom to the freezer in the basement of the main building. I didn't want to come back whenever all this gets resolved and have my classroom smelling like rotting amphibian." I figured while I was here…"

Warren leaned down and picked up Max's satchel from the porch.

"This got left in her room. She never got it, what with the, uh… attempted murder and all."

Chloe took the satchel from Warren and nodded. The two of them just stared at each other for a little bit.

"I don't have to worry about you taking care of her, do I?" Warren asked.

Chloe looked Warren up and down. "You're fuckin' A right, you don't."

Warren smiled. "I knew I liked you for a reason. You have a good one."

Chloe couldn't suppress a small grin. "You, too," she said, and went back in the house…

… and tripped over the shoes she had left by the door the night before. Chloe dropped Max's satchel, spilling most of the contents onto the carpet.

"Shit!"

Max called from the bedroom. "What is it?"

"Tripped," Chloe said. "Spilled shit. I'm fine."

Chloe knelt down and began to put Max's stuff back in her satchel. She picked up a notebook, and…

What the hell?

By the time Chloe made it into the bedroom, Max had finished the omelet. Chloe put the satchel on the bed next to her while still clutching the notebook.

"Warren brought that by for you," Chloe said.

"Well, I'll be sure to thank…"

Max saw the notebook, and caught herself. Chloe held it in front of her as she leaned against the wall.

"Max," Chloe said. "I used to live with a security guard. And now, you live with a detective. You're gonna find out what I did. There are some people you can't live with while expecting to hide things."

Chloe flipped through the notebook.

"Look," Chloe said. "A list of names. All women. With social media accounts corresponding with those names. You got your Facebooks, your Twitter handles, your Instagrams, even a Tumblr or two. One of these names… is Lorraine Foster. Which has no accounts next to her name, because there is no Lorraine Foster. But this tells me that the rest of these names are girls in your classes."

Chloe sat down on the bed next to Max. "Now if I were a betting woman, I'd bet that you wrote all of this down because you were set to do some spying. And there's only one reason I can come up with."

Chloe set the notebook down.

"It's the reason you came back to Arcadia Bay, isn't it? You were going to try to find The Traveler."

Max looked at Chloe for a long time before she nodded.

"Why?" Chloe asked.

"To help them," Max said. "I have money, God knows I can afford it. If, like, whales started beaching themselves, or red rain started falling, I had a shot at finding her. Give her a little cash and get her out of town. So she didn't have to go what I went through. What Jennifer Healy went through. So the town stayed safe. But…"

"But you didn't know it was gonna be me."

Max nodded again. Chloe sighed.

"Max, why didn't you tell me this is why you came back?"

"Chloe," Max said. "What would your reaction have been?"

"I'd have been furious," Chloe said. "To start, but then I would have backed your play. You don't know me well enough to know that by now?"

"I do, Chloe. But… you go on a lot about how much you hate this town… I couldn't risk it."

Chloe sighed angrily. "Tell me. Point blank. Without thinking. Why does this matter to you so much? The real reason."

"Chloe," Max said. "This is home."

Max had put enough feeling behind her words that Chloe believed her. Any anger that she had had vanished before she could do anything with it.

"I could live somewhere else for the rest of my life," Max said, "and it would still be home. I can't leave this place to get flattened by a storm. And you're still here, so you can't either."

Chloe looked into Max's sincere, wet eyes, and felt the opposite of how she usually did. She felt lost and adrift, even though destiny and fate had led her here, to this moment, by the hand. Every thought she had was more despondent than the last.

This is the end, isn't it?

How long did you really think the universe was going to let us keep each other?

I love you, and you love me, and somehow that doesn't count.

The blood I have to spill, the life I have to give, they aren't my own. This is not my story.

But Max, in the way only Max had, seemed to know the general tenor of her thoughts, the boiling point of her emotions. She took Chloe's hand.

"It's never good enough for you, is it?" Max asked.

Chloe tilted her head.

"You will repeatedly drag yourself, because you don't think you're good enough. And that makes you try harder. So you'll be the person that everyone sees when they look at you. So you can be the person you think I deserve."

Max sat up and looked Chloe dead in the eye.

"And then? Then you become unstoppable. Someone just has to tell you that you can't do something before you make sure it gets done. You'll accomplish something great, and then… then you'll kick your own ass because it wasn't great enough, and the whole thing starts all over again."

Chloe's voice was thick. "That makes me sound like an idiot."

Max smiled for a bit. "This whole thing started in my photography class. The Everyday Heroes contest. But you know what? That's bullshit. Heroes don't come along everyday… Not the ones like you."

Chloe could have kissed her just then. She didn't. It seemed too puny a response.

"Thank you," Chloe said.

"You're welcome," Max said. "I know you'll fix this. Because if you don't… I will never fart in front of you again."

Chloe laughed. Loud. What have I done, telling her that?

Max started taking things out of her satchel with a smile on her face. "I have some gum in here. You want some?"

"No, I'm good," Chloe said. She surveyed the array of articles removed from the satchel. One in particular piqued her interest.

She picked up a piece of thick paper about the size of a postcard, with a picture of The Founding Fathers of Arcadia Bay on one side.

"Hey," Chloe said. "This is for that Arcadia Bay museum that's opening up, right?"

"Yeah," Max said, still rooting through her satchel. "I think the Chamber of Commerce is handing them out. There were a ton of them in the Teacher's Lounge."

"There were a bunch of these at the Two Whales," Chloe said. "Do you think it… might…"

Something caught Chloe's eye.

No…

No, it can't be…

The look on Chloe's face must have been one for the ages, because Max picked up on it immediately.

"Chloe? What is it?"

Chloe looked up from the photo. "Call Victoria," Chloe said. "Now."

Chloe and Max got dressed after Max made the call. Chloe took her contacts out (her eyes had been itchy all morning) and put her glasses on. Max managed to get marginally spiffy, putting on her dreamcatcher necklace over a white button-down.

Victoria must have called Warren, because he showed up before she did.

"What's this about?" Warren asked the both of them in the living room.

"Victoria needs to be here for this," Chloe said. "You'll know soon enough, anyway."

Fifteen minutes later, Victoria arrived through the unlocked front door. She scanned the three of them, before her eyes landed on Max.

"Before we go any further," Victoria said in lieu of a hello, "what the hell is that?"

"What?" Max asked.

Victoria pointed at Max's center mass. "That."

Max looked down. "My dreamcatcher necklace? What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing," Victoria said. "I just didn't know you were a toddler from New Mexico in 1981."

Max sighed, and took the necklace off.

"Okay," Victoria said, smiling at how successful her childish pissiness was. "Why am I here?"

Chloe opened her mouth, and closed it again. There really was no right way to say this.

She wordlessly moved next to Victoria, took out the ticket to the museum that bore the pictures of the town's founding fathers, and pointed to the man in the second row on the far left. Max and Warren crowded around the two of them to see.

Chloe, Max, and Warren had been born in Arcadia Bay, and as natives, had seen this picture countless times. But only now, given the context of their personal lives, did they see what Chloe saw.

There was no mistaking those cold, beady eyes.

Staring back at them, from a photograph taken in 1912, was Nathan Prescott.