Chapter 23: In the Bag
Honestly, my reassurances hadn't just been simple hyperbole. Over the years, I'd found that the simple ritual of preparing coffee had had a nearly magical effect on my problems, no matter the size or source. It didn't matter if I actually drank it or not; the process of grinding the beans, feeding them to my old, temperamental coffee machine, and sitting back while it burped, gurled, and filled the air with a wondrous aroma somehow brought a strange sense of peace and clarity. Petty arguments with Clint, squabbling children, and even structural issues with the house were all much smaller and less devastating when viewed through the steamy haze above a freshly brewed cup of Joe.
In Patti's house, there was no such ritual. Instead, a 'nice cup of coffee' was delivered by something that looked like it'd been looted from the U.S.S. Enterprise. The cup went into an alcove, there was a brief grinding noise, and then a moment later it dutifully dispensed a thick black fluid with a rather obnoxious beep. It was certainly impressive, and the coffee it delivered was... nice, but to me the whole process felt strangely hollow. Everything I loved about the process (including the occasional attempts on my life by well-aimed gouts of steam) was gone, hidden somewhere behind the gleaming white panels of this piece of coldly efficient tech. Was there a moral in this? Probably, but this didn't seem like the time or place to go hunting for it.
Once we were armed with our respective cups of cyber-coffee, we headed into the living room to sit down. Unsurprisingly, it was also very modern, with a pair of pristine leather sofas arranged in an 'L' shape around a coffee table. An enormous television adorned one wall, next to a bookshelf filled from top to bottom with technical-looking books with titles like 'Process Chemistry: Handling of Feedstock Materials'. There was a smaller bookshelf filled with children's books in the opposite corner, but beyond that a curious absence of any toys or anything else I'd have expected in a household with three kids.
"Careful, please," Patti said, as we sat down with our mugs of steaming coffee, "Bill'll, um, lose his rag if he finds any stains on the sofa. We've had to keep the children out of here to keep them clean."
"Uh, sure," I said, and set my cup down firmly on a coaster. Now that we were here, with her staring at me in expectant silence, I suddenly found myself wondering if this really was such a good idea. How should I start? How did Thera start? With a bow in his face, admittedly, but what did he say after that…?
"Okay, Patti," I said, "Before we talk, I'd just like to say that nothing I hear is going to leave this room, okay? I won't even tell Clint, and I normally tell him everything. You have my word."
"Thanks, Laura," she said, sincerely, "Um…what should we talk about first?"
That was a good question. Once again, I leafed through my memories of our first meeting with Thera looking for clues. After he'd hooked us by being generally suspicious, he'd put Clint on the spot and forced him to speak his mind. That'd been fine for Clint, but for Patti…? I needed a different approach.
"Well...why don't you start by telling me about the Blip, Patti?" I asked. She didn't move, but I saw the surface of her coffee ripple ever so slightly.
"What do you, um, want to know?" she said, and added defensively, "You must have heard about it from, um, other people."
"Yeah, I have. But I want to hear about it from you. Is that okay?"
"I...um…" she squirmed nervously in her chair, "I'm not sure that…do I have to?"
"Patti," I said, in a patient but firm voice, "I know it's hard-"
"Do you?" she said, in a sharp voice.
"-and I also know that I'll never know how hard it was, but how can we talk about it if you won't tell me your story?" I said, and smiled wryly as something Thera said floated up in my mind, "I hate to do this, but unfortunately, my telepathy's on the fritz."
"Okay...yes, you're right," she said, and took a deep breath, "Um, that day... I was out in the garden with Arietta pushing her on the swing. Bill called me from inside the house, and I looked away for just a second...when I looked back the swing was empty, twisting in the wind. She was just...gone."
She cradled her drink, almost protectively, as tears welled up in her eyes.
"Bill and Allegra came rushing out when they heard me screaming, and then all around us we heard our neighbours yelling, panicking...it was pandemonium. Whatever happened we knew it was terrible, and at that moment my world shattered. It felt like someone'd reached inside of me and pulled out my heart, or that she'd somehow taken a piece of me when she vanished."
"I'm so sorry, Patti."
"We held out hope, y'know. There was all these theories; that the Vanished'd been abducted by aliens or the government, or that they'd even been, um, Raptured and we were living in the Great Tribulation. Even after the Avengers told everyone what had happened we...thought they'd find a way of reversing it," she gave me a wry smile, "I guess they did in the end, right?"
"Not much help to you just after the Snap, though."
"I guess not, no," she said, and took another sip, "After about six months we admitted to ourselves that she wasn't coming back. We held a funeral for her, had her name put up on the Missouri Memorial, and...tried to put our lives back together as best we could. It was hardest on Allegra, I think; she really used to look up to her big sister, and she just couldn't understand why she wasn't around anymore. She somehow convinced herself that Arietta had gone away on a school trip or something, and just kept on asking when she was coming back. Each time it just cut a little deeper, and then one day I just absolutely lost it. I…" she closed her eyes and sighed, "I'm not proud of what I said. Or screamed, I guess. I remember I was just so angry and...it needed a release. She stopped asking after that, but I knew she was still thinking about her."
I nodded, silently. I was pretty well familiar with that kind of sudden rage.
She took another sip, "You know what the worst part was? How silent the house was. I used to get annoyed at how much noise they'd made when they were playing or squabbling, but after the Snap that was one of the things I missed most. Somedays the house felt like a tomb, and...I think we had Sam just so we could, um, get some life back in the place. Maybe we also thought he'd be a replacement for Arietta...but I don't know. I'm not sure we were really thinking. Anyway, he came along, Bill had to take extra shifts at work…we kept ourselves busy, I guess. Eventually, we started to accept that Arietta was, um, really gone. It still hurt, but everyone was hurting, so we hurt together."
"Clint told me about those group sessions that people used to hold," I said, "I think even the Avengers used to turn up to them."
"They were so helpful in those early years; I wish they were still running," Patti said, "But I think everyone's just trying to work out what to do next. It's all so confusing…"
"Tell me about it."
"So anyway, once Allegra reached Arietta's age she started demanding that she should have her bedroom. It was the biggest of the kid's rooms, and I guess she thought she should have it now she was the oldest. We resisted for a while, but eventually Bill and I went through Arietta's stuff, packed it away, and...well," tears pricked once again at her eyes, "It was painful, but also strangely freeing. I guess we had to take that final step so we could properly move on."
"And when'd you take that final step?"
"Last year," Patti said, "After that we just lived our lives until...well, last month."
"Blip Day?"
"Yeah," she said, and her gaze turned soft, "I guess that's another day I'm not going to forget. I was in here, Bill was in his study, and the kids were playing outside. Next thing I know there was this scream, and then, um, Allegra came rushing into the kitchen shouting that Arietta was standing in the garden! At the time, I was annoyed because I thought she'd grown out of using her as an imaginary friend. I strode into the kitchen, ready to scold her for not wiping her feet, and then...there she was...like some kind of angel," she took another sip of coffee, and when she spoke her voice was weak and wavering, "She hadn't aged a day, Laura. She was even wearing the dress that…that..."
Patti stopped. Her shoulders were shaking with repressed emotion, and I gave her an encouraging smile and a pat on the knee.
"It's okay," I said, "You're doing very well."
"I just completely broke down," she said, "I was screaming and laughing and crying and hugging her, and all she wanted to know was, um, what'd happened to the swings, why I'd gone inside, and who this young boy was playing in her sandpit. It was the most magical moment...like seeing the sun after five years underground. Was it like that for you?"
"No," I said firmly, and she looked surprised, "When we got Snapped I'd literally just called the family over for lunch and...then I was standing in front of an abandoned house, the sky had clouded over, and my husband'd just vanished. I had to put on a brave face for the kids, but honestly? I was going to pieces inside."
"Oh," she said, in the tones of someone who'd just realised something, "I guess...yeah…"
I paused for a moment, and then adopted a slightly gentler tone, "Remember Patti, we were the Lost. We didn't see people die, or have to hold funerals or suffer through the past five years; from our point of view everything changed in a blink. We had a lot of magical moments later, but at the time…"
"I...never thought of it like that," she said, in a contemplative tone, "It must've been very scary for her."
"But that doesn't mean you weren't allowed to be happy! Your daughter got resurrected, for Christ's sake!" I said, quickly, "It's just...there's two sides to this story, and it's hard for each side to appreciate what the other's gone through. That was one of the first things I learned from my, uh, 'therapist'."
"Mmm…" she looked lost in thought for a moment.
"Okay," I said, "So...I think I've got a pretty good idea of the context, but...what's going wrong now? What's this 'everything'?"
"It's...well..." Patti paused, and restarted in a subdued tone, "I...used to dream of Arietta all the time, Laura, and us being together as a family. Now that we are, though, it's just non-stop fights and shouting matches and...I don't know what to do! Honestly, there was one time when I found myself wishing that the Blip hadn't happened and-" she paused, and put her hand to her mouth, "-what kind of mother thinks that?"
"One who's going through a totally insane situation?" I smiled crookedly, "C'mon, we've both had those days where the kids're being a total nightmare, right? You know, the ones when you just want to scream 'If I hadn't had you, I'd be relaxing on a goddamn tropical island right now!'. It doesn't make you a bad Mom; it makes you human."
"Really? You have those days too?" she looked both surprised and relieved, "But... your children're so well behaved!"
"I'll let you in on a little secret. Those 'well behaved' children were read the Riot Act just before we got out of the car," I said, "I love them to bits, but Nate can throw these epic temper tantrums, there're days I think I should get Lila checked for ADHD, and Coop takes after me so much I'm terrified he'll make the same mistakes," I paused, and thought about that for a second, "I think...that's why I'm harder on him than I really need to be."
"Well...Arietta's like her Dad. Headstrong, I mean. It, um, took her about two seconds to realise that Allegra'd moved into her room and all her stuff was...well-" she winced, "-at goodwill. She went absolutely nuclear; I didn't even know she knew that kind of language!"
"She was scared," I said pointedly, "She is scared."
"I know...I know," she pinched the bridge of her nose, "And it's selfish of me, but it just felt like the moment'd been stolen from us. Most people had this, um, post-Blip honeymoon period, right?"
"Oh yeah," I said, and grinned at the memory, "I was walking funny for almost two weeks."
Her eyebrows met in mild perplexion, "Well, we've had some good days, but most of the time it's just so tough. Arietta refuses to, um, acknowledge that Sam's her brother, she keeps claiming that Allegra's stolen her stuff...and then last week she was screaming about how we'd just forgotten about her and moved on with our lives. I was actually shaking with anger after that, Laura! After everything we'd been through..."
"Which, of course, she hasn't," I said. I tried, but I couldn't quite keep the edge out of my voice. At least now I understood why Thera had sometimes seemed...tetchy. Had I been as wrapped up in my own world as Patti? Probably, and at least she'd had the grace to admit that she was being selfish.
"That's when Bill thought about throwing this party. It's about the community, sure, but for us we just wanted Arietta to..." her voice quavered again, "...know just know how thankful we are that she's back with us! All I just really want is for her to...um..."
"Be happy?" I said, and kicked myself for putting words in her mouth, "Sorry."
"No, it's okay; you're right," she said, and then gave me a penetrating look, "But it's not that easy, is it. That's what you were, um, going to say if I said that, weren't you?"
"I was going to say I wanted that too," I said, "And the reason I was having that rage-bender was because I wasn't getting what I wanted."
"So how did you, um, come out of it?"
"Well…my therapist said something that kind of stuck with me," I said, "He told us to be 'patient and forgiving'."
"You mean...of Arietta?"
"Of yourself," I said, "Patti; there is nothing about this situation that's normal. Literally half the people in that party out there have been dead for five years, me included! Have you ever talked to a dead woman before?"
"Er...I…guess not?" she said, with a wan smile.
"Exactly. You are going to screw up. I've been screwing up non-stop since I Blipped back, but if I keep beating myself up for my mistakes the only thing I'll get is concussion! Accept that you've made them, own their consequences, but after that...learn and move on. Like I said, you're human...and so is Arietta. I can tell you that she's absolutely terrified, and-"
"I have to be there for her," she said, firmly, "Her and Allegra. I...haven't been the best Mom to her, either. During the Blip, I kept, um, saying things like 'Arietta would've tidied her room!' or 'Arietta wouldn't have lost her temper!'. Of course, Arietta did lose her temper and...Allegra just looked at me. She didn't say anything; she, um, didn't have to."
"So you were comparing Allegra to a fantasy?"
"Yeah," she sighed, "I was, um, being unfair."
"Well, it's the same. Be honest with her; apologise to her, sincerely, and...maybe be prepared to do something nice with her as a way of making it up. If someone did that to you, how would you like to be treated?"
"I think I see a, um, couple of visits to the ice cream parlour in our futures," she said wryly, "Who knew that getting everything you dreamed of could be so, um, difficult?"
"I think it's that's a lesson everyone's learning, Patti."
"I know," she said, and gave me a wan smile, "I guess it's just that... the reality never quite measures up to our fantasies, does it."
"Doesn't it, Patti? Really?" I said. There was a harsh 'clack' as I set my cup down on the coaster, rather harder than I intended, and when I spoke my voice was low and intense, "Because you know, that Arietta you've been dreaming of? Yeah, she'll always be perfect. She'll never throw a tantrum, and she'll always tidy away her toys, eat her greens, and go to bed when you tell her to...but she'll never be able to grow, or change, or do anything new. She'll just be a flawless fantasy, trapped forever in your mind, and your memories of her smiles, her laughter, even her smell will fade until you're loving this...this shadow, and believe me that shadow can't love you back."
Patti had gone very still, completely transfixed, and her hands were holding her coffee cup in a rictus grip. I took a long, deep breath and plunged on.
"But the Arietta out on that bouncy castle? Your real daughter? She can love you, and she'll...um..." as I fumbled for the words, I suddenly thought of Vi, sitting peacefully on my porch swing, "She'll be able to learn new things, make mistakes, fix those mistakes, make new mistakes, fall in love, and make a difference in the world! Fine, she's got flaws, but they're wonderful flaws and they make her who she is. We're all imperfect, Patti; I'm sure Clint would love it if I spent less time lost in my own head and more time appreciating his string vest collection, but then I wouldn't be me."
There was a long silence, and for a moment I wondered if I'd gone a little bit too far.
"I guess...what I'm trying to say is that reality is better than the fantasy," I said, more gently now, "Because it's real. We're real."
"Right…" she whispered, "You're completely right. I'm so sorry, Laura; what in the world am I thinking?"
"Nothing the rest of us haven't thought a hundred times over," I said, "Life was easier for me before I died."
"Yeah," Patti said, and then she gave me a hard look, "You, um, didn't learn any of that from your therapist, did you."
"No, but I...may have paraphrased something Vi said," I admitted, "At the time I thought she was just trying to reassure me, but actually... I don't think I've ever seen anyone take quite so much joy in just existing."
"I, um, guess that we can all learn something from her," she said, and then I got the feeling that she'd reached some kind of conclusion, "Laura? I'm going to talk to Arietta. Maybe I'll never, um, really understand what it was like for her to Blip, but...I'm going to try. I'm not going to brush it under the carpet anymore."
"I'm glad to hear it," I said, "I can tell you from experience that that way, madness lies."
"And...I think I'm going to have her and Allegra share the big room. They can have bunk beds; they'd probably like that, actually, and...if they have to share a room maybe they'll learn to, um, listen to each other and compromise. That's the only way any of us are going to get through this, right? Listening and compromise."
"It's a start," I agreed, "But how about you; are you feeling any better?"
"So much better!" she gushed, "I can't tell you how much. For the first time since the Blip I'm actually, um, feeling hopeful!"
"That's great!" I said, with some relief, "I'm just glad that the school wasn't a one-time thing!"
"My goodness, no! Laura, um, I don't know how to thank you for helping me..."
Her voice faded out as my mind flagged up what Vi had said outside the school. Helping them was great, helping Patti was great, but...there were still seven billion other people out there. How could I help them all? If a couple of thousand needy souls had driven Thera over the edge in spectacular fashion, what hope did I have? Was it even possible?
The obvious answer was that it wasn't. Even if I didn't eat, sleep, and saw one person a second for the rest of my life I wouldn't even come close to solving the world's ills. So how did one go about making the impossible, possible?
"Laura?" Patti said, and when I returned to reality I saw her staring at me with some concern, "Are you there?"
"Sorry, I was just thinking," I said, "Lost in my own head again, I guess. What were you saying?"
"Well, I was, um, just saying that if there was some way I can, um, pay you back-"
"There isn't," I said suddenly, surprising both of us. Why had I said that? I could feel the ghost of an idea forming at the edge of my consciousness, rattling its chains for my attention...
"Oh," she looked a bit crestfallen, "Are you sure?"
"Dead sure," I said. Okay, so I couldn't see everyone on the planet, but who said it had to be me? "But what if...there's a way you can pay it forward?"
Patti frowned, "What do you mean?"
"Well, let's think about it!" I said, and felt a sense of excitement growing within me, "Thera and Vi helped my family. They might have done it in a really odd way, but you know what? 'Can't argue with the results. Thanks to them, I'm in a good enough place to try and help you - and you're feeling better now, right?"
"Goodness, yes!"
"So you'll be able to help Arietta and Allegra feel better, right? That's two! Four, actually, if we include the rest of your family. But why stop there? You must know other people who're suffering like you, right?"
"I...run a book club," she said, a little warily, "Some of the girls are struggling-"
"Great! I mean, um, right!" I said, and Patti tensed as I leapt to my feet and started pacing, "So what if we talk to them? Or even better, what about those Snap support groups you were talking about? Just because they're down doesn't mean they're out; we just need to repurpose them! We need to get out the message that it's okay to...not be okay, that this is one seriously messed up planet at the moment, but we will get through as long as we're patient, forgiving, and-" I snapped my fingers and pointed at Patti, who leaned away ever so slightly, "-compromise."
"Are you sure?" she said dubiously, "That, um, seems pretty hard."
"What's the alternative, Patti? Cede the pitch to people like Keame? You said it yourself, it only takes a snowflake to start an avalanche. If every person we help helps two people, and they help two people, then it'd spread through the country like…"
"Like…?"
"Like a virus!" I said triumphantly, and then sat down heavily, "Oh, fuck."
I felt a sudden lurch as Thera's little notepad surfaced in my memories. Most of it had been written in what'd looked like untidy Greek, but there had been a bit in carefully printed English:
'Vital to select correct 'Patient Zero' to maximise initial spread.'
Of course. I'd been too preoccupied at the time to think about it, but now I realised just how odd it was that that specific part had been written so I could understand it. What if...Thera was more aware of his shortcomings than I'd given him credit for? When I actually thought about it, it was obvious that they knew that neither he nor Vi had the ability to change the world...but they thought I could. I wasn't just a zero, I was the Zero.
"Those sons of bitches!" I breathed, "I swear, next time I see Vi I'm going to slap her- no, wait, she'll probably break my arm. I'm going to...have words with her. From the other side of a door. A thick door. Oh, she's gonna be so smug."
"Are you...are you okay, Laura?" by now, Patti was staring at me as if I were a woman possessed, "You seem a little manic."
"I'm…" I thought about it. Okay, so maybe I was getting a little overexcited, and maybe I was also a little irritated at being played like a fiddle, but at the same time I really was okay. Before the Snap, a revelation like that would've sent me screaming all the way back to my hermitage for more self-imposed isolation, but all I felt about it now was a sense of peace. Clint was right; this really was my calling. Maybe this would be my opportunity to give my second chance some meaning...
"I'm sorry, Patti. I'm fine," I said, with a broad smile, "And you know what? I think we're all going to be okay. This is going to work. It's um…"
"In the bag?" Patti suggested.
"Yeah," I said, and frowned, "'Seems I'm hearing that a lot lately."
"That's great, and, well...I actually have something else to thank you for."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Well, um, you remember what you said about Dr. Keame yesterday? An... 'asshole'?"
I winced, "I've been trying to forget about that."
"Don't! Bill laughed all evening when he heard about that," she grinned, "Well, um, he was going to hold a rally this weekend. Tomorrow, actually, at his refinery. People're saying that he's going to demand that we have another election so the Blipped get a say in who runs the country."
"Yeah, we were thinking the same thing," I thought briefly of his TV interview, "And I hate to say it, but it's not a terrible idea. I know that we didn't get to vote because we were dead, but…"
"Well, I was...um, I was going to go. I thought that if we had a politician that was advocating for the Blipped, then,...maybe he'd be able to keep Arietta safe."
"He can't keep her safe, Patti. And the way he's stoking the flames-"
"I know! I know!" she said helplessly, "I just...I was scared. I don't want her going through life having people look down on her or think she's different because of something that wasn't her fault!"
"So what changed?"
"Um, what you said at the school. The instant Bill got back from I told him we were staying home. He was a little worried because he, um, wanted to put on a good face for his boss...but this morning Keame changed the venue to St. Louis. Even if we wanted to go, three hours each way is a bit much."
"Seems strange to do that at the last minute," I said, and then blinked, "Wait a second; his boss?"
Before Patti could answer there was a gentle tap at the door, and then it slowly swung inwards to reveal a young girl who was clearly Patti's daughter. She looked tired but happy, and we waited patiently for a moment while she tried to catch her breath.
"Mom?" She said, "Dad said he's gonna give his speech in a second, an' he was wondering where you were."
"Oh, of course," Patti gave me a sidelong look, "Sorry about this, but Bill, um, loves giving speeches. Thank you, Arietta!"
"You're welcome!" she bobbed her head, but then added a bit anxiously, "Um, Mom…?"
"What is it, darling?"
"Can you...ask Dad not to make too big a deal out of me? Only, I don't want everyone staring at me like I'm some kind of freak-"
"You're not a freak, sweetheart! Don't ever think that!" Patti said sharply, and then she caught my expression, "But I'll, um, talk to him. Ask him to keep it short."
"Thanks, Mom!" she said, and then quickly closed the door with a gentle click.
"I'd best go, um, handle this," Patti quickly got to her feet, "And I know what you were thinking. I...need to listen before just rushing to reassure her."
"Believe me, I know how much you want to 'fix' things," I said, sincerely, "But sometimes they really do just want to know that we hear what they're saying."
"Yeah. Um...thank you again, Laura. I've kept you from your family long enough, and they'll be needing you for this speech. Bill has many talents, but, um, public speaking isn't one of them."
"Is he really that bad?"
"I'll leave that for you to decide," she snorted, "I'd hate to ruin the, um, experience."
The party was clearly headed towards the 'speech' stage when we returned. There was a sense of anticipation in the air, and the adults were starting to congregate around the buffet table where Bill now stood. In one hand he held a small sheet of paper, and perched on his enormous nose were a pair of almost comically undersized reading glasses, through which he was peering with a look of intense concentration.
"Oh dear," Patti said, with a look of mild consternation, "It's worse than I thought. You'd better brace yourself."
With that we went our separate ways; she vanished into the crowd, while I made an immediate beeline for the sandpit. While I had no doubt Bill's speeches were terrible, what Patti hadn't appreciated was that I had an ace up my sleeve; namely, a Ph.D in Weaselling Out of Things. I hadn't had any quality time with Nate yet today, and who in the world was going to begrudge a recently un-deceased mother the chance to play with her young child? Sure, it was maybe a little manipulative, but it was also completely bulletproof.
From the sounds of it, it also proved to be the smart choice. While my youngest and I happily built and destroyed sandcastle after sandcastle, I heard Bill parping and barking his way through a rather drawn-out speech, punctuated on occasion by an occasional chuckle or brief smattering of applause. Finally, there was the sound of 'cheers' and a clink of glasses, and then it mercifully came to an end, after which the parents dispersed just in time for the children to descend like a horde of locusts. In a flash, the once-heaving buffet had been reduced to a couple of sandwiches and some rather sad-looking cocktail sausages, and the families scattered across the lawn in small groups to eat. The atmosphere was calm, yet happy, and I had to admit that Patti and Bill had done a pretty fine job celebrating our return.
"Makes you glad we had breakfast earlier, eh kiddo?" I said to Nate, who responded by kicking over another sand castle, "Yeah. I thought so too."
A shadow fell over me, and I looked up to see Clint holding a pair of gaudy party plates, stacked with the remnants of the buffet table.
"Here you go," he said, and handed me one of them, "Saved what I could. Even managed to get a bit for Nate, too."
"Thanks, hon," I said gratefully, and prodded carefully at one of the sandwiches. It oozed a strange, unidentifiable colour, but nonetheless smelled quite good, "Um…"
"Yeah, beats me," he said, and sat down heavily on the grass, "Tastes good, though."
"I'll take your word for it," I said, and as I went to dig in Coop and Lila appeared carrying plates of their own. Coop, for his part, had a dangerously self-satisfied smirk on his face, and I heard the distant clang of warning bells somewhere in my mind.
"So, Dad," Coop said, "I guess we should all be thankful for the actions of Hawkman, am I right? Whoever he is, I bet he's awesome."
"You heard that too, eh?" Clint said, with a weary grin, "I mean, seriously? Is it that hard to remember? You reckon I should get T-shirts printed up or something?"
"String vests, right?," I said, and he rolled his eyes, "I'm guessing that his speech wasn't…"
"...accurate in the least? Good guess. I know we moved down here to get away from that kinda publicity, but I'm wonderin' if we moved too far. A quiet family life's great, but it'd be nice to get some recognition, y'know?"
"What, isn't the undying adoration of your family enough for you?"
"Sure, until you see those enormous murals of Stark and Rogers!" he said, and then put an affection hand across my shoulders, "But on the other hand...they ain't enjoyin' a beautiful afternoon picnic with their 'adoring' family."
"'Cause they're dead," Lila said, with characteristic bluntness, "Or like, really old, which is kinda the same thing."
"Remind me to book that session with the child psychologist," I muttered to Clint, who nodded silently in response.
"But still," she went on, "Thera was saying something about you! Yesterday, when he was there with Strange."
"Oh yeah?" Clint said, "What's that?"
"Well, I was showing him an episode of Samurai Unicorns while that glitterbomb was looking after you, and-"
"You showed Thera Samurai Unicorns?"
"You mean 'made him watch'," Coop snorted, "She even had him wear the hat. You know, the pink glittery one with the horn?"
"He liked it!" Lila protested, "Anyway, I was saying that the Green Unicorn was my least favourite, 'cause he doesn't have any powers, and he said he was kinda surprised by that as the Green Unicorn reminded him of my Dad. Um, I mean you, Dad."
"I think I see where this is goin'," Clint said, a little dangerously.
"Hold on, Dad!" she said, "Anyway, he was saying that the Avengers were like a watch. You have all these shiny cogs that everyone thinks are the only things that're important. Y'know, like Stark, Rogers, and Thor! But what people don't realise is that all there's this thin layer of lubrication that makes sure that all the cogs get along. You don't notice it when it's there, but the instant it's gone all the cogs go flying off in different directions and your watch doesn't work, just like when the Green Unicorn left the team in Episode 27!"
"So… he's saying I'm lubricant?"
"He's saying you're vital," I said, "You were always keeping the Avengers grounded. Just because people didn't always recognise you doesn't mean you weren't important."
"Yeah, I know," he shook his head wryly, "Still, there ain't no point in worryin' about that now, right? I'd like to just enjoy this without havin' to think about work. None of these other guys are, so why us?"
"Yeah," I said, and leaned against his shoulder, "C'mon, Lila; eat up! If you think I'm letting you back on that bouncy castle before your stomach settles then you'd better think again! I'm not paying to have it cleaned."
The rest of the party passed in a whirl of sound and colour. As soon as I gave the go-ahead, Lila rocketed back onto the bouncy castle with her new friends, where she spent the afternoon shrieking and screaming with her usual energetic delight. Coop, for his part, slunk off into the shadows, leaving Clint and Nate to play tag on the lawn while I watched drowsily from the sidelines. This had been one of the most physically and emotionally draining weeks of my lives, and between that and the soporific warmth of the afternoon it was all I could do to keep my eyes open for just...one more...moment-
I was jerked back to reality by the angry buzz of my cell in my pocket. Was it Maisie, or even...Vi? Suddenly my pulse was racing, and with clammy hands I dug my phone out and looked at the number. I didn't recognise it, but it was a local number, and with a mounting sense of trepidation I held it up to my ear, "Hello? Laura here."
"Laura?" it was Val, and when she spoke it was in unusually exuberant tones, "Oh my God, Laura. Thank you! Thank you so much!"
"Hi Val," I said, and felt a strange mixture of relief and disappointment, "I'm assuming Liv's phoned you, then."
"She's just left, actually!" Val said, "She came by with a cake and she...actually apologised to me. I didn't think I'd ever hear her say 'sorry'! Anyway...she was saying something about this 'Blip Centre'? Said I should talk to you about it."
"Oh, right, yeah," I said, and quickly filled her in on the details, "I was just thinking...there's these kids stuck there, and they aren't getting an education, so-"
"Say no more. I'm on it," she said, "If you can SMS me the address then I'll go there right now."
"Really? Now?"
"Now Frank's gone, I haven't got anything else to do," she said, with a faint hint of bitterness, "Anyway, I was thinking that I'll go meet whoever's in charge right now, and then if we meet up early next week...?"
"Um...sure," I said, and thought about my commitments, "How about Monday, just after lunch? I should have time to get Nate after that."
"Great!" she said, and added, "Thanks again, Laura. I...really mean it."
"Don't mention it," I said, and the line went dead. With a sigh, I lay back down and closed my eyes. It was good to hear that Liv was as good as her word, and with Val now on the case the Blip Centre'd better just watch itself. She might not have Vi's predatory instincts, but she also didn't have any time for bullshit. Isolationism? Blip Supremacy? Hah! Whoever was in charge at the Blip Centre now was in for a real surprise.
"Hey, hon," I heard Clint's voice approaching, and a moment later he sat down on the grass next to me, "Sounds like you're getting busy. Should I buy you a planner?"
"It was Val," I said, without opening my eyes, "She wants me to meet her at the Blip Centre on Monday."
"You gonna go? Most people don't walk back into the lion's den, y'know."
"Those kids need an education, Clint."
"Yeah, but-"
"And maybe I'll ask Patti if she's free, too. Can't hurt to have a third pair of eyes."
"Okay, I can tell you've already made up your mind," he said, "Want me to tag along? Might make 'em think twice about holdin' a grudge match."
"Sure," I smiled, "You seem to have an awful lot of free time at the moment. What happened to that op you said Fury was planning?"
"Fury is...seriously, I dunno what's up with him," there was a subtle rustle of fabric as he shrugged, "If I didn't know better, I'd say he's been replaced with some kind of shapeshiftin' alien. Although...damnit! I can't believe I forgot!"
"Forgot what?" I opened my eyes and looked up at him.
"I was gonna tell you yesterday, but then Vi was there...an' then everythin' else happened...well, nevermind-" he shook his head, "I was talkin' to Fury about the Blip Centres, an' how the one Thera was lookin' after wasn't gettin' any help? Well, you wanna know why?"
"...why?"
"'Cause the government thinks it's runnin' perfectly! The government gets weekly reports on all the Blip Centres, and apparently 43's in the top ten. As far as they're concerned, it ain't wantin' for nothing!"
"Really?"
"Yup!"
"And they believe that?" I said, "All you'd need to do is actually look at the place to realise that's rubbish. Why isn't anyone confirming those reports?"
"'Cause everyone's stretched really thin tryin' to stamp out the fires they actually know about. Also...they've been tryin' to keep the locations of the Blip Centres quiet; reckon they think locals might not like the idea of havin' a refugee camp on their front door."
"I'd say that doesn't make sense, but...I'll buy it. There's been worse screw ups in easier times."
"But you know what the really interestin' part was?"
"Sorry, was that not the interesting part?"
"Apparently there's three or four Centres in Missouri that're performin' similarly well," he said darkly, "Wanna know what they've got in common? They're all bein' inspected by the same three people."
"So someone's putting pressure on the inspectors, then? I guess there's no prize for guessing who."
"Well there ain't any proof, yet, but you've gotta admit it fits Keame's MO," Clint said, "He's been usin' the inmates to control people on the outside, an' by cuttin' them off he makes 'em think they've been abandoned by the world. They get hurt an' angry, an' that makes 'em easy pickin's for his whole Blip Supremacy thing."
"Like we saw."
"Yeah. For now? It's workin'."
"And later?"
"I guess he'll probably throw the inspectors under the bus and make out like they were bein' corrupt," he said, "You heard he's runnin' for office, right?"
"I heard he wants to; he almost had Patti's vote, actually."
"If he gets in, I reckon he'd be able to keep most any investigation well under wraps. Don't forget that he seems to have the police in his back pocket, too."
"And this is the guy I called an 'asshole'," I groaned, "What was I saying?"
"The truth," he said simply, "Look, there ain't no point in appeasin' him and hopin' that'll be that. Unless he gets stopped he'll just be back for more tomorrow, an' the day after that, an' the day after that-"
"Yeah, I get it," I said, "Still, you know he's Bill's boss, right? You'd better keep your voice down, or we'll get thrown out!" I cast my eye over the party. In fact, it looked like the party was starting to wind down anyway; from the bouncy castle, there came a chorus of disgruntled sighs and pleas for more time as parents came calling for their kids, while others were slowly tidying away their plates and drifting towards the exit, "Actually…"
"Yeah, we should probably scoot," Clint said quickly, "I know that Bill was thinkin' of gettin' the ball out when everyone else had gone, and I'd rather not be spendin' the next month in an all-body plaster cast..."
Rounding up the kids took a bit of work. Lila was easy; although she was sad about leaving her new friends, she made a solemn promise to meet up with them both at school and then came bouncing down the slide to slip on her shoes. Nate, obviously sensing we were leaving, immediately dove into the ballpit and vanished in an explosion of giggles and flying plastic balls. As Clint waded in to pluck him out, Coop came slouching around the side of the castle from where he and his friends had spent the afternoon skulking.
"Hi Mom," he said, "We're leaving, then?"
"As soon as your Dad gets Nate out of the ball pit," I said. Right on cue, there was another shower of balls and some barely-restrained cursing as Nate wriggled free of Clint's grasp and fled for another corner of the pit, "Which might be a while."
"Huh."
"Still, aren't you glad you came? Wasn't this so much more fun than moping around at home?"
"Yeah, yeah," Coop said, but smiled nonetheless, "Okay, Mom, you delivered."
"Don't I always?" I said, and for a short while we watched as a top-ranking ex-S.H.I.E.L.D agent was repeatedly thwarted by a toddler who was apparently part-eel. Eventually, he managed to pin him down and emerged triumphantly with the furiously struggling kid, and after saying our goodbyes we headed back to the car. While Clint wrestled the now deeply-aggrieved Nate into his car seat, I tapped out a quick text message to Patti asking about her availability next Monday, before sitting back with a smile on my face. All in all, it'd been a good day.
We returned home in high spirits, everyone's earlier woes forgotten. Lila spent the trip talking excitedly to anyone who'd listen about what she and her friends would do when they got to school on Monday, while Coop stared smiling out the window. Part of me wanted to find out exactly why he was in such a good mood, but I didn't want to risk spoiling the atmosphere with an ad hoc interrogation.
As we drew closer to home, however, my sense of satisfaction was tempered by a slowly increasing sense of anxiety. It was starting to get late and I still hadn't heard anything from Maisie or Vi. Had something happened at Maisie's tournament? Had Vi managed to get her hands on #273? Were they okay? There was a certain bitter irony in the fact that, after having closed myself off from the world for so long, I couldn't get the news I desperately wanted to hea-
There was a loud, catchy jangle from Lila's side of the car, and her eyes darted around in confusion for a moment before she leaned forward and dug her phone out of the door pocket.
"Mom! It's Maisie!" she said, and I felt a sudden wave of relief. That was one down, at least, "Um...what should I do?"
"Answer it, idiot!" Coop said, and Lila stuck her tongue out at him before swiping right on her phone. When she spoke, her voice was soft, even tremulous, "Maisie, um, I-"
There was an ear-piercing shriek from the other end of the phone and Lila winced. As she listened her face lit up with glee, and even before she opened her mouth I knew what had happened.
"You won?" she squealed, "You won? Ohmygawd ohmygawd ohmygawd that's amazing and- uh huh? Uh huh. Can I see the trophy? How big is it? Is it shiny? Send me a photo!"
There was a brief silence, and Lila gave me a big thumbs up as she nodded along.
"I'd love to! Maisie, look, I'm sorry that I- uh huh? Sure. We'll talk later! Bye!"
I'd internally braced myself for the followup squeal, but even so my ears still rang as Lila hung up and squealed "She won!"
"I heard, sweetheart," Clint said, "Tell her 'well done' from me, will you?"
"I will!" Lila bent over her phone, and started texting furiously, "I was getting worried because I hadn't heard anything and I thought she'd blocked me but...she was just really tired from the tournament and fell asleep when she got home, and when she woke up her father wouldn't let her use her phone until the news vans had left!"
"News vans?" I frowned, "Wait, how big was this tournament?"
"Oh no, they weren't there for her," Lila said airily, "They were there 'cause of some break-in or another. Apparently her Dad's security systems caught a couple of burglars down in Springfield! Isn't that cool?"
"Um…" I forced a smile, but deep down I felt a heartstopping wrench. Was that why Vi hadn't contacted me? "Yes dear, that's very cool."
"Yeah. She said it was going to be on the evening news! We should watch; she might be on TV!"
Clint and I exchanged a wary look, and as I turned back to Lila I caught Coop surveying me with an appraising eye. Obviously, he'd picked up that something was wrong, even if he wasn't quite sure what it was.
"Maybe she will, dear!" I said brightly, "I guess we'll just have to wait and see, won't we..."
By the time we got home that wrench had developed into an unpleasant churning sensation, made all the worse by the knowledge that whatever had happened had happened, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. As soon as the car stopped I jumped out and raced inside to our bedroom, remembering at the very last second to bring Vi's satchel with me. The thick, expensive leather was strangely soothing, and besides, it might be evidence. I didn't want to keep anything of hers in plain sight if I could help it.
Tossing the satchel on the bed, I snatched up my tablet and went straight to my favourite state news website. The headline graphic was now a video of the warehouse explosion, captured from some distance away on a wobbly mobile phone, and it had mercifully relegated Vi and myself to a mere footnote halfway down the page. I smiled briefly at the picture of our hug, but then my smile froze. Directly beneath that was the headline:
BREAK-IN AT HELIX INTERNATIONAL: TWO APPREHENDED IN INCIDENT POLICE DESCRIBE AS 'BAFFLING'
With a pounding heart, I tapped the link only to be greeted with the words 'More as the story develops', and threw the tablet on the bed a snarl of frustration.
"Whoa, hon!" Clint said, quickly entering and closing the door behind him, "You don't know it's them."
"Who else is it going to be, Clint?" I snapped back, "C'mon! They saw Bulgakov, they saw Bennett, and we know they want #273! What do all those have in common?"
"Helix International," he concluded, "Yeah, you're right. I know."
"So does this mean they didn't get #273?" I said anxiously, "Because if they didn't, then that means that Keame could get it and…how're you so calm?"
"Do you have any idea how many literally tickin' bombs I've dealt with?" he said, "This ain't nothin' yet, hon, so let's not run around like headless chickens until we know it is. 'Sides, do you really think that Vi's the sort to be taken in by law enforcement?"
"She...she might, actually," I said, "I mean, Thera wasn't prepared to hurt mercs who were actually trying to kill him. Do you think he'd want to hurt the cops?"
"I...okay, I see your point," he said, "But look, ever since we've known 'em they've been toyin' with us like a cat with a mouse, right?"
"Vi claimed they were always two steps ahead," I said, "But... they didn't realise that Bulgakov was being tortured, they didn't realise that there was a trap at the Blip Centre, and they didn't expect those mercs to attack their warehouse!"
"An' yet each time there just happened to be the right person there to deal with 'em," he said, "Thera, Vi, an' me. Even if they don't know exactly what was gonna happen, there was always a contingency there, right?"
"That...is true, I suppose."
"An' given what you said she said 'bout #273, d'ya really think they would've left it up to chance? They didn't just go rushin' in the front gate, y'know; they went to talk to the guy who designed the system!"
"So you think they got caught deliberately?"
"I still ain't entirely convinced it's them, hon," he said, "But considerin' they tried to bullshit Strange, I wouldn't be totally surprised if they were playin' another stupid long game."
"Maybe. I mean, Vi was acting pretty strange, even for her!" I mused, "Maybe she knew that going to Helix would be a one-way trip?"
"I, um-"
"No, wait, she and Thera were talking about something on Monday, so that doesn't make sense-"
"Laura."
"So I've missed something, but what is it? What if there was something she was expecting us to do, and we didn't do it? What if they got caught 'cause-"
"Laura!" Clint said, firmly but gently, "You're doin' a Lila. This ain't helpin', an' you're just gettin' yourself worked up over somethin' you can't do anythin' about."
"I know!" I said, and sat down heavily on the bed, "It's just that we're so close, Clint! I can feel it! What're we meant to do if they've gone and gotten themselves arrested!"
"Absolutely nothin'," Clint said, "If they wanted our help, they should've said something instead of spendin' all their time coming up with riddles!"
"That's what I said to Vi!" I said angrily, "And you know what she said? That she gives me 'straight answers' all the time, but I'm too busy looking for the hidden meaning. That's bullshit, right?"
"Well, you do kinda overthink-" Clint wilted in the face of my sudden glare, "I mean...right, hon!"
"Thank you," I leapt to my feet and spun to face him, "And then she's going on about how I'm 'not a failure' and that I've got everything that I need to work it out for myself, and I just...can't! Oh, I'm sure it's obvious to a genius like her, but-"
"Hold on. You're just as smart as either of 'em."
"Yeah...well, it doesn't feel like it!"
"That's 'cause they're the ones leadin' the dance. Listen, you remember the first time we met?"
"Well...yeah," I smiled despite myself, "You were that inconsiderate jerk who kept me working late!"
"An' you were this witty, silver-tongued pancake waitress who turned my shitty week into somethin' amazing," he laughed, "I ain't never had such a good time bein' made to feel so stupid!"
I winced, "Sorry."
"You kidding? That was the evenin' I realised I had a thing for smart girls...and after that I just had to come back. I tried everythin'; learning about what books you were readin', trying to polish up on my jokes, but you were always one step ahead of me. Couldn't keep up."
"So…"
"So…my point is that Vi's right. You ain't no failure, and if she says you've got everythin' you need to work it out then you can."
"Oh, sure; take her side," I said, sarcastically, "The side of 'don't stop prying, Laura!', 'I know you can do it, Laura!', 'it's in the bag, Laura!'. That's great, but did it ever occur Vi, or Ell, or whatever her name is to tell me which damn bag it's-"
I stopped, and my blood went cold in my veins as realisation dawned. Was it really that simple? No, surely not…but...
"What, hon?" Clint said, "What is it?"
"It's 'in the bag'," I whispered, "'I'm telling you, it's in the bag'."
As one we turned to look at Vi's brown leather satchel. It lay limply on the bed, and in the brilliant light streaming through the rose window the golden clasp didn't so much gleam as burn, as if it were somehow demanding our attention. That was it. It had to be it.
"Oh my god. That son of a bitch!" I said, invoking Vi's parentage for the second time that day, "She was giving me a straight answer...but she knew I wouldn't see it that way! Ooooh, I just hope her plan didn't depend on me posting bail!"
"You think the answers are in that bag?"
"Where else would they be?" I said, with growing excitement, "Think about it; yesterday, Vi was guarding this thing with her life! It contains all her art equipment, all her paper, her work...and then she just happens to leave it in the car? She knew we'd find it when we went to the party! C'mon-"
"Wait, Laura," Clint put out a hand as I lunged for the satchel, "You know what they can do. How d'ya know ain't trapped?"
"It's not," I said confidently, "Not with kids around. She wouldn't risk it."
"You sure about that?"
"Absolutely. Call it intuition, if you like, but Thera willingly sat through an episode of Samurai Unicorns with a silly hat on his head, and being an aunt is everything to Vi. They'd never hurt a kid."
"Okay...but I'll do it," he said firmly, "An' we ain't just gonna tear through whatever's inside, okay? If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it slowly an' methodically. Y'know, like professionals. Deal?"
"Deal."
"Great," he reached towards the satchel, and then paused, "So...what're we actually lookin' for? 'Cause knowin' these guys, I don't reckon they'd just leave a written plan around for us to find."
"It'd be nice, wouldn't it?" I said, "Remember you asked me to tell you what was motivating me to go up against Keame and his heavies?"
"Your 'why'?"
"Yeah. I think theirs is in this bag."
I watched, my mouth dry with anticipation, as Clint carefully pulled the satchel towards him and then lifted the catch with a faint 'click'. Nothing happened.
"Told you," I said. Clint rolled his eyes and gingerly lifted the cover, revealing a couple of pieces of paper and a slightly thicker folder, nestled at the back. Rows of pens and pencils adorned the inside cover, their sharpened tips glimmering gently in the dark.
"Wow," he remarked, "Everythin' you need to be an artist-on-the-go. Now, let's see…"
With a gentle rustle of paper he took the first drawing out and laid it on the bed. It was the picture Vi had handed to me yesterday, showing a mysterious blindfolded woman standing beneath an archway of the intricately carved pagoda. Clint gave it a brief look and then turned to me, eyebrows raised.
"It's good, I'll give her that," he said, "But…"
"Do you recognise it?" I asked, "I mean...does it seem familiar to you?"
"What, this?" he looked at it again, harder this time, "No. It kinda reminds me of something Japanese, but…"
"You sure about that? You've never seen it before?"
"I'm sure," he frowned, "Why?"
"Because I have. I'm sure of it."
"When?"
"I...don't know. I don't remember," I admitted, "But Vi said that everyone she showed it to had the same reaction."
"Who's 'everyone'?"
"I guess she meant...the people at the Blip Centre," I said, "And hold on, if that was true, then-"
"-maybe this is where you went after you got Snapped?"
"Went, or went through. You have to admit, it kind of has a 'gatey' feel about it."
"Huh; maybe she really was onto somethin' with those Blip Dreams," his lips pressed tightly together, "So who's the woman? Have you seen her too?"
"Only Thera did; Vi thinks she's their Goddess. There was that little statuette in his office, remember?"
"You reckon he's important enough to have his deity turn up personally when he dies?" Clint raised an eyebrow, "Huh. Maybe we've been on the wrong track this whole time."
"Don't get any funny ideas. Apparently she's a trickster who gets mad if you start praying to her," I said, and looked around cautiously, "Not that I said that."
"Huh. I'll buy that," he said, "But standing there alone? Hah, with that blindfold, she looks like she's one pinata short of a party."
"I think that might be sacrilegious, y'know," I said archly. Still, something about that comment felt odd, "You'd just better hope she isn't listening."
"Anyway... if she showed you this, I'm guessin' it probably ain't meant to be the answer we're lookin' for," Clint said, and I nodded in agreement, "Anythin' on the other side?"
"I don't think-" I began, but he'd already flipped it over, revealing a date and signature scrawled in the top left-hand corner of the page, "-oh."
"See? Pays to be methodical," he said smugly, and I glowered at him in response, "Looks like this was about ten days after the Blip, and this signature...is that a 'B'?"
"An 'E', I think," I peered excitedly, and then something clicked, "Oh, Christ; when Thera called her 'Ell' it wasn't the letter 'L', it was a syllable! Like Eleanor, or Elizabeth!"
"See? Amazin' what you can learn simply by bein' methodical."
"Yeah, you've made your point," I said, " What's next?"
The picture of the pagoda went to one side, and Clint pulled out the drawing of the large oak tree, basking in the sun. The storm clouds in the corner were just as dark and foreboding as I remembered, and try as I might I still couldn't shake the feeling that there was something wrong with them.
"Okay, this one she drew yesterday," I said, "She was on the porch, on the phone. I thought she was talking to Maisie's Dad, but I think it was actually Sofia."
"She drew it while she was on the phone?" Clint said, "Are you sure?"
"Well, I didn't see her do it; I was in the shower at the time. But...when else would she have drawn it?"
Clint flipped it over, quickly, and then flipped it back.
"Well, it ain't dated, but...I dunno, that ain't the view from the porch," he closed his eyes for just a moment, as if getting his mental bearings, "It's from the hill overlookin' the house. You see how the swing's positioned? From the porch it'd be side on, but here it's dead ahead."
"You're...you're right, actually," I said, "How come I didn't spot that?"
"'Cause you ain't called Hawkeye, that's why."
"Okay, 'Hawkeye'," I said, "Any other pearls?"
"Yeah. What's with the smoke?"
"That's not smoke," I said, although I had to admit that even I didn't sound sure about that, "Those're storm clouds."
"No they ain't," he said firmly, "Look, hon, I've seen a lot of things on fire. I mean...a lot, an' I bet that Vi has too. Like you said, she's too good to accidentally draw smoke if she meant to draw clouds. This is deliberate."
"Well...she did say that she wasn't always in control of what she drew," I said, "In fact, she said her and her psychiatrist used to use her drawings to assess her mental state."
"She's seein' a shrink?" Clint considered this for a moment, and then surprised me by saying, "Good for her. That takes guts."
"Really?"
"I've seen too many good colleagues burn out or break 'cause they were too proud to seek help when they needed it, so...yeah," he shrugged, "Anyway, that whole 'not in control' thing? I know exactly what she means; I've had times when it feels like the arrows just know where they want to go, an' I'm just the meat that's carrying 'em around."
"You're an artist with a bow, eh?"
"Don't I know it," he said, "But this smoke...well, let's just put this to one side…"
He gave the picture a final, dark glance and then turned his attention back to the satchel. Only the folder remained, and after a short battle with the catch he popped it open and took out the first sheet. From the shading it appeared that there was a drawing on the flip side, but since we'd agreed to be methodical about this...
"Okay," he said, in a clinical tone, "So this one is dated...an' that would've been-"
"-the day before our first meeting with Thera," I said, craning to look, "Remember, we agreed we'd get help and then we got that mysterious text inviting us to therapy?"
"Yeah," he said, "I'd just told you about that job with Fury. Kinda glad that looks like it ain't gonna to happen."
"Me too, hon," I said, and patted him on the leg, "I'd much rather have you here than jetting off around the world."
"Well, I am pretty amazin'. Now, let's see what she was drawin' the day before we met, eh?"
He flipped the paper over and gave her artwork a cursory glance. The cursory glance became a longer stare, and then his eyes went wide and the colour drained from his face. The paper began to tremble in his grasp.
"What?" I said, suddenly alarmed. Without a word, he laid the image alongside the oak tree and then tightly gripped my hand.
It was a perfect fit, and a scene of unparalleled viciousness. The smoke over the oak tree was just the edge of a thick black cloud that hovered over a hellish landscape. In the choking darkness the only light came from the blazing farmstead, now consumed by a column of fire. Flames licked hungrily up and down the collapsing timbers, and from them streamed a ribbon of embers that seemed to dance almost like fireflies in the updraft, before slowly coming to rest amongst scorched white stone and twisted rebar.
All around the conflagration were enormous black SUVs with dark tinted windows. From them poured bulky silhouettes wearing heavy armour and carrying strange, almost alien weaponry. Others had already fanned out, moving through the olive groves and into the forest, their flashlights tiny motes in the gloom as they swept the area with cold precision.
"Why would she draw this?" I said hoarsely, "How did she-"
My voice caught in my throat. Near the house, four struggling shadows were being roughly dragged towards the open doors of a burning vehicle. Three of them were clearly children, but the fourth was a woman in a simple dress. She had one arm wrapped protectively around the smallest child, while the other was raised in a futile attempt to ward off a brutal blow from the raised rifle of a nearby soldier. Her face was mercifully obscured by a tendril of smoke, but I could feel her terror and desperation as if it were my own.
But...it wasn't just her desperation. I'd sensed a trickle of anxiety from the picture of the oak tree, but here there was a confused, virulent mix of pain and fear, raw hatred and deep, unutterable grief. They seethed and bubbled like tar, oozing through the image on a bed of white-hot, impotent rage. The sensation was blinding, almost overwhelming, and as they came crashing down around me the world became fuzzy and indistinct-
"Laura!" Clint gave me a shake, and suddenly I was back in the room. With a gasp, I stepped back from the picture and looked at him wildly. What'd just happened?
"Wow," I said, after a moment, "That was intense."
"Are you okay, hon?" he said intently, "You've gone white."
"I'm...fine," I reassured him, although I could feel my hands trembling, "A bit shocked, I guess. I could feel the anger, you know; her anger. It was like...she was screaming."
"She ain't the only one!" his jaw was working furiously, and I could see the anger bubbling to the fore, "What the hell is goin' on here? Why' she drawin' pictures of you an' the kids being dragged off by a bunch of mercs?
"Clint-"
"Don't tell me to calm down, Laura! Just don't!" he took a long, deep breath, "Is this meant to be some kind of joke? She's got a pretty sick sense of humour if it is!"
"I don't know, Clint! You think I'm not just as surprised as you?"
"You didn't spend five years in mournin', Laura!" he said angrily, "I know what it's like to lose you guys; you think I ain't terrified of it happenin' again?"
"It's not going to happen again!"
"Tell that to this damn picture!" he slapped the paper, "'Cause it seems pretty damn sure of itself!"
"It's just a picture, Clint!"
"You don't really believe that, do you?" he said scornfully, "You reckon that the Great an' Mysterious Vi's been sneakin' around and feedin' you riddles just so's she can hand you somethin' that don't mean anything?"
"No...no, I guess I don't."
"So what is it? A threat? A warning? A...a prediction?" he flipped it over and pointed to the date, "She drew this the day before we met Thera, right? So...is this somethin' that's gonna happen?"
"Oh, so now you think Vi can see the future?"
"I don't know what Vi can do! But have you got a better explanation?"
"No. At least not right now."
"So-"
"-but I do know that, like you said, they wouldn't have gone to all this effort just to prank or scare us. It felt too real for that, Clint!"
"'Feels pretty real to me too, hon!"
"I know," I gently took his hand, "And I know, Clint. I'm sorry."
"An' I'm sorry for shoutin'," his shoulders slumped, "It's...I guess I don't really know what I was expectin' to find, but that? It's like she's drew somethin' from my nightmares."
"Yeah," I nodded, "But there is a reason for this. I'm sure of it."
"It'd be nice if they left a note or something, y'know."
"Maybe they did. We've still got to go through the rest of that folder. But first-" I picked up the paper and stared at it, hard. It was shocking, undeniably so, but there was also something off about it. Not just one thing, either, "-I think we need to take a closer look at this. Slowly and methodically, right?"
"Like professionals," Clint said, with a weak smile. I smiled back, and leaned against his shoulder.
"Hey, cheer up," I said, "I know that this shows your loving family being dragged off to an uncertain fate, but look on the bright side! I think we've found our answer."
"You mean-"
"Yeah. This has to be their 'why'."