Jim stepped inside his house. It had been so long since he'd been here. He had avoided looking at Toby's demolished house on his way home.
White and blue streaks—Aja's war fleet—laced the skies, congregating over where Bellroc's fallen titan lay.
Power was out. Not that he expected it to be on. At least eighty percent of Arcadia Oaks was either on fire or crushed beneath mountains of rubble.
The trash can out front lay on its side, contents strewn over what remained of the driveway and sidewalk. His mom's car was gone, probably still wherever she and Mr. Strickler had left it before boarding Camelot—before Strickler sacrificed himself to take down Skrael's titan—before his death ripped out part of Jim's mother's heart.
Inside, familiar photos, once hanging on the walls, lay on the floor, frames splintered, glass broken. One frame, previously displayed prominently in the living room beside a photo of Jim and his mom at her med school graduation, was empty.
Muffled crying leaked from the kitchen.
"Mom?" Jim eased open the door connecting the dining room to the kitchen.
His mother hurriedly wiped her eyes but didn't bother to hide the picture in her hand—her and Strickler. Her diamond and emerald engagement band still circled her finger. "Jim, honey, you're home." She hugged him, folding the picture over her heart with one hand and embracing him with the other.
They'd cried together over the loss of Mr. Strickler shortly after it happened, but Jim wasn't naïve enough to think his mother's grieving was over. In some ways, it might never be.
"One of Aja's ships was kind enough to bring me home." She tried to smile, but sadness drowned it. "I'm glad you're okay. Where are Claire and Toby?"
Jim stiffened in her arms. "Claire's with her parents at a shelter. Tobes—" He choked. "He—he saved me, Mom. It was supposed to be the two of us, at the end—just like at the beginning." He buried his face in her shoulder.
His mother didn't say anything, but Jim's tear-damp shirt said she understood all too well.
Two days later
Jim's side ached. Two fractured ribs meant he couldn't do as much to help as he wanted. Instead of working beside AAARRRGGHH!'s team to clear Arcadia Oaks' little cemetery for Toby's funeral later today, he handed out water at a shelter.
Digging Toby from the rubble took longer than anticipated since a house-sized chunk of Bellroc's titan buried him less than an hour after Jim left, but AAARRRGGHH! refused to quit until he'd recovered his wingman. Getting the troll to relinquish the body to the mortician was excruciating. But explaining the troll to the mortician proved even more challenging.
Jim handed bottled water to three little girls sitting on a dark green blanket. All three wore bright pink backpacks and huddled together, whispering. A middle-aged woman kept an eye on them as she helped distribute blankets to people coming in.
"Can I help?" Claire fell in step beside him as he handed out his last bottle.
"Yeah."
She tucked one hand into his, fingers laced, palm loose to keep from irritating his asphalt-blistered hand.
They grabbed more water and started another round of the shelter, an old storage facility for the changelings' Janus Order, before Gunmar slaughtered them. There was something haunting about a place like this, as if ghosts waited in every dark recess, ready to remind visitors of the world's cruelty.
Jim didn't need any reminders.
He and Claire found a young couple settling into a spot halfway down one side of the building. The man and woman gratefully accepted the water, and Claire chatted with them so Jim didn't have to.
Further toward the back, an old man struggled to pull his walker from a tangled blanket corner.
Jim gave Claire his remaining water and rushed to help. "I'll get it." He kneeled to free the walker's rubber foot, but he couldn't even do that without a yelp.
"Don't hurt yourself, son," said the old man.
Don't hurt myself? I'd be dead if my friends thought like that. Jim held back sharp words. The man was only trying to be kind.
"I'll get it." Claire set the water on the floor and freed the walker. She folded the blanket out of the way to keep the same thing from happening again.
"Thank you. Nice to see young people helping out." The old man tottered off.
Jim's side burned. He concentrated on taking slow breaths until the clop-clop of the man's walker faded.
Claire took his arm to stabilize his weak side and helped him stand. "You want some ice?"
Jim wanted to say no, to tell her to leave it for people who needed it more than him. "Yeah."
She walked with him to a metal folding chair and returned in two minutes with bagged ice wrapped in a ragged hand towel.
He recognized the faded red and pink flowers. "This is from your house."
Claire nodded. "Not much left now. My parents freaked when they saw it. I'm glad yours is still standing."
"What about NotEnrique?"
"He was out when it happened. He's watching my brother now so Mom and Dad can talk." She clandestinely pointed toward the back of the shelter. Councilwoman Nunez walked tight circles, arms crossed, brow furrowed as Mr. Nunez made animated hand gestures. On the other side of the building sat a little green troll. He waved half a broken mobile over a gurgling baby.
"I'm glad they're okay."
"When I told NotEnrique about Nomura, he got quiet." Claire pressed the ice to Jim's side. "A few hours later, he found me and demanded a hug. Hasn't said anything about it since. I'm glad they're having a memorial for Nomura and… Mr. Strickler after Toby's funeral. How's your mom?"
"Cries herself to sleep every night." Jim couldn't say he didn't want to do the same. "Makes rounds at the shelters during the day. She'll be here later."
Claire let Jim hold the ice while she got another chair. "At least Area 49-B had generators and supplies. And Aja's fleet's helping transport people out of here—those who'll go, anyway. Nobody wants to leave. This town's been through everything. It's going to take more than a walking mountain of lava and rock to make it surrender." She took over the compress. "I keep wondering what everyone's doing—Douxie, Blinky, Krel, Eli, even Stuart."
"They'll be at the funeral." The last word felt so final when Jim said it. His cracked watch face read 2PM. Services wouldn't start until after sunset to accommodate the town's small troll population.
Claire kept her composure, but the tense line her lips made said she couldn't reply without risking a breakdown.
Jim didn't feel like talking anymore, anyway.