Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.
Chapter 30: Interstices - Part Four
A surprise visitor arrives at the farmhouse.
The sun was already above the horizon and still rising as he rode east towards Folsom. Mitch fidgeted in seat as the anxiousness of his rather hectic travel itinerary washed away, leaving only a sort of giddy anticipation sitting high in his chest. He'd never guessed he'd be one of those lovestruck fools he used to scorn and mock, but here he was growing more and more flustered with each mile that disappeared between him and Jamie.
Allison had been rather difficult when he announced he was leaving D.C., and rather than fight with her on fuel costs and more briefings he'd arranged transport on an Army cargo flight delivering supplies to Fort Polk and the surrounding areas. He'd left a note - which he'd thought was rather civil of him considering - and boarded the plane at three in the morning. From there he'd managed to talk his way onto a transport truck headed for New Orleans. He'd hopped off in Baton Rouge and hitched a ride with a man reuniting with his family in Georgia. The man - Graham, he'd said - had insisted on taking Mitch all the way to Folsom when he'd learned that his family was there.
"A man should be with his family," was the only explanation he'd given and pointed his truck east on I-12 and refused to hear another word about it.
They crossed the Folsom city limit just after ten. Mitch directed Graham toward the broken gate and assured him that it was okay to drop him there. The Armstrongs were a welcoming bunch, but the things were still unstable and Bo often met strangers on the front porch with his shotgun in hand. Mitch would probably fare better walking the quarter mile down the dirt road to the house by himself.
Graham pulled over and unlocked the doors as Mitch extended his hand for a shake. "Thank you. I appreciate you going out of your way."
"You just hold real tight onto those girls of yours and we'll call it even."
Mitch stepped out onto the road and shouldered his bag as Graham turned around and began the long trek back to the highway. He was struck once more at the kindness of strangers and, for a moment, lamented growing up so isolated and alone. Each time he visited Folsom he felt like he understood Jamie a bit more. Her trusting nature had been learned here, surrounded by people unrelated to her but just as much a part of her life as her own family. People who were concerned about their neighbors, who pitched in to help when it was needed and who came together as a community when things went wrong.
His feet began carrying him down the dirt road, each step a little lighter than the one before. He felt a smile stretch his face as he caught sight of the house from the top of the hill, and it stayed as he crossed the yellow-green lawn.
Mitch could hear laughter through the door as he climbed the small stairs to the porch, and he opened the screen door to knock loudly on the wooden frame.
"I got it." Jamie's voice was muffled but no less beautiful to Mitch's ears. His grin widened as she unlocked the door and pulled it open.
"Hi, miss, can I interest you in one scientist, slightly used?"
"Mitch!" She recovered from her shock quickly and surged forward to wrap both arms around his shoulders.. He dropped his bag to return the hug, ignoring the pain in his ribs as she held on a little too tight.
"Miss me?" he laughed as she stepped back to pull him inside.
Jamie didn't even grace his question with an answer, choosing instead to roll her eyes and ask one of her own. "How'd you get away?"
"Snuck out," he told her honestly. "I have a few possibly angry voicemails on my phone that I haven't checked yet."
"Dad!" Clem appeared seconds later with Henry close on her heels. He hugged her as tightly as he could for several long seconds before everyone else arrived and he was passed around from person to person. Even Reese greeted him with a firm handshake and a smile, welcoming him back with the warmth of a distant relative he hadn't seen in a while.
"How did you get here?" Dianne asked when they were finally settled. Fran had left to fetch a glass of water for him and returned with a plate of what looked like breakfast leftovers. Mitch ate appreciatively and told the short tale between bites. They were all dutifully impressed by the ranks of leadership that had been his captive audience, but when he reached his great escape his mother clucked her tongue.
"Mitchell," she scolded lightly, though he could tell she didn't really mean it. She disliked Allison almost as much as Mitch did, and when he just shrugged in response he saw the twinkle of amusement in her eyes.
"She'll be fine," he told them. "I imagine they'll be scrambling to restore order first before they start to worry about...everything else." He glanced furtively at his friends, unsure how much he should say, but Jamie just shook her head.
"We told them the whole story," she informed him. "They know what's going on."
"Did the president say what they were going to do?" Fran asked anxiously.
Mitch looked up a bit apologetically. "No. They were too busy assigning blame and debating who was going to be in charge of implementing cleanup protocols. I'm not sure when they'll actually get to the issue."
"I'd have left, too," Reese said from his position leaning against the staircase banister. "Those pr-people up in Washington," he amended quickly with a furtive glance at Clem, "don't know what they're doing. We're on our own out here."
"Things will get better," Jamie urged. "We've just now distributed the cure. Once things settle down, everything will start to go back to normal."
"Right," Fran agreed brightly. "Until then, I'm just happy that everyone is safe and home." There was a sadness as she spoke, and Mitch remembered that one of her sons would never come home again. Stephen had been killed in Houston last year, and though Mitch had never met him he felt a sort of kindred sympathy for Fran. Losing a child was one of the worst fears a parent ever faced, and he felt the urge to reach out and hold Clem just a little tighter.
"Alright," Bo announced, "let's all let Mitch get settled in. Reese, we need to go clear out all of that dead brush from the back lot."
"I'll help," Jackson stood, elbowing Abe on his way up.
Abe looked confused for only a second before he rose to his feet beside Jackson. "Me, too."
Mitch hid a smile as he realized what his friends were doing. Even Dariela got the hint, faking a yawn and escaping upstairs. Fran didn't bother masking her grin as she and Dianne stepped out onto the front porch to finish their coffee, Clem and Henry close behind. Mitch heard Henry's excited bark and Clem giggling as they started to play in the yard and took a moment to enjoy the sound.
"Come on," Jamie wrapped her hand under his arm and tugged him to stand with her. "I'll show you where to drop your bag."
Space was limited, Mitch discovered, but they'd made it work. Jackson and Reese had been given air mattresses and mounds of blankets to camp out in the living room. Dianne had lost the battle and ended up in Reese's room with Abe and Dariela in the guest down the hall. Jamie had gotten the luckiest of all, and Mitch set his bag down just inside her bedroom as she dragged him in.
"Clem's been in a sleeping bag on the floor there," she gestured to the space just in front of the closet, "but Charlie's bringing over one of the extra twin mattresses from his boys' roo-mmph!"
Mitch cut her off with a kiss, snaking one arm around her waist and threading the other through her hair. She was tense for only a split second of surprise before she responded eagerly, her lips plying against his as her hands wandered over his shoulders to curl in the hair at the base of his neck. It was longer than he usually wore it, but Jamie didn't seem to mind. She hummed as he leaned a bit further, backing her up to the wall. The impact broke them apart for a moment and Mitch chuckled low in his throat.
"What?" Jamie smiled back, her eyes bright and impish.
"Nothing," he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned down to kiss her again. This one was softer, a promise whispered across her lips, and he lingered for a long moment. He put an inch of space between them to murmur three words. "I love you."
This time she was the one to initiate the kiss, raising to her toes to press her body flush against him. It was answer enough.
Mitch was content to spend the rest of the afternoon like this, but Jamie apparently had other ideas. He caught a glimpse of worry on her face as she ducked under his arm and took a few steps away. He turned but didn't follow, content to let her suss through her thoughts before she inevitably blurted out whatever was bothering her.
"Can you do me a favor?" she asked finally.
Two years ago, he'd have asked for specifics before agreeing to anything. "Sure," he replied without hesitation.
"I want to go see my mom," she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then back again. "Would you come with me?"
"I…" He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Truthfully, he'd be happy to go the rest of his life without setting foot in that cemetery again. The first time had been awkward, a knee-jerk reaction to offer her comfort in her moment of despair. The second had been one of the worst days of his life, and it was this feeling that he desperately wanted to avoid reliving.
"What is it?"
"Nothing," he shook his head and offered her a flat smile.
"You don't want to go?"
She looked stricken and he back-pedaled quickly. "No, no, we can go." It was the last thing he wanted to do, but sending her off alone wasn't an idea he could bear.
They dug the keys to the Hummer out of Abe's coat by the door and announced they were leaving. When asked, Jamie answered Fran vaguely about their destination, mentioning a quick drive around town and maybe a stop at Vic's. The older woman got a look in her eye that Mitch understood. It was almost haunted, though she hid it well, and Mitch knew she was hesitant about letting her niece out of her sight. He promised her that he'd stay with Jamie no matter what, and she seemed to relax a little.
The cemetery was only a couple of miles down the road, but they passed it in silence. Mitch's heart was pounding so loudly in his chest he was sure Jamie could hear it. By the time they finally parked he was in the beginning stages of a panic attack. He swallowed the anxiety down and wiped his palms on his jeans as Jamie hopped down from the driver's seat. She expected him to follow her like he had that first time, and she didn't even look back as she made her way toward the rows of headstones.
He caught up to her several yards from where her mother was buried, from where her own name was carved into an identical stone. He was so wrapped up in his own distress that he had forgotten to warn her. He saw the moment she caught sight of her headstone, and her entire body tensed as she jerked to a stop.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, his tone low and deferential due to their surroundings. "I should have told you."
"This is why you didn't want to come?" She turned her head to look at him, but he missed it. His gaze was fixed on a point in the distance, his eyes steadfastly refusing to look down. The image of her name carved in the cold stone was one he'd never forget. "Mitch?" Her fingers slipped into his, cool despite the climbing temperature, and squeezed.
"We buried you," he finally murmured. His vision blurred as he fought back tears, and her grip on his hand tightened. "There wasn't a body, so all we had was a short service here. I had to listen to your family talk about how so full of life you had been as though that wasn't immediately obvious to anyone who'd ever met you. People kept saying how tragic it was that you'd died so young, and all I could think about as they spoke was how they didn't know the half of it. They tried to tell me you were in a better place, but the best place you could be is right here by my side." He raised his free hand to wipe away a tear that escaped, and as he glanced down he saw it.
JAMIE CAMPBELL
1987 - 2015
His hand slipped from hers as he turned away sharply, flinching as though he'd been struck. He felt like a fool for acting like this, but he couldn't help it. He knew Jamie must be having a hard time processing it as well, but his own grief rendered him incapable of offering her any sort of support or comfort.
The sound of crunching leaves and grass rustling caught his attention, and when he turned back Jamie was on her knees in front of her own grave marker. Her fingers were making trenches in the soft earth around it, and he realized at once what she was doing.
"Jamie!"
"What?" she craned her neck to look at him but didn't stop digging. "It's my headstone." He watched in horrified fascination as she dug up the rectangular stone, only moving to help when he saw her struggle to lift it.
"What the hell are we doing?" He slipped his fingers under a corner and pried as she pulled on the other side. It slid from the ground with a satisfying squish, and suddenly his arms were full of dirty headstone.
"Don't worry," Jamie dusted her hands off and stood. "I'm pretty sure you can't get bad luck from stealing your own gravestone."
"This is Louisiana," Mitch reminded her unnecessarily. "I'm pretty sure anything involving graves and stealing is a bad idea."
"Scared of zombies?" she teased as she led the way back to the Hummer.
"Well, they do eat brains and you seem to have lost yours. I'm more appetizing than you right now."
"Ha, ha." She opened the back up and gestured for him to drop the stone inside. "See, nothing to be afraid of."
"What are you going to do with this thing?"
She just gave him a devilish smile as she climbed into the driver's seat. "You'll see."
They drove back to the farm, but instead of stopping at the house Jamie kept on driving down the dirt path until they reached a barn. It was surrounded by overgrowth and a few piles of discarded junk, so Mitch knew there were no animals inside. It must have been the old barn, he reasoned, remembering a story she'd told him about building the new one sometime during high school.
"Jamie, what are we doing here?"
"Grab the stone and put it over there," she ordered, pointing to a small patch of dirt in front of the barn doors. "I'll be right back."
She disappeared into the wooden structure as Mitch struggled to keep from looking at the grave marker while moving it. He set it face down out of spite, backing up a few paces for good measure. He wasn't too worried about zombies and bad juju, but seeing her name atop the bracketed dates made his stomach turn.
"Here." Jamie sounded almost gleeful, and when Mitch turned to face her she was sporting a rather mischievous grin. Her hand was clenched around the wooden handle of an old sledge hammer, her arm outstretched in offering.
"What?"
"Here," she nudged the hammer forward a bit and he took it from her despite his confusion. She crouched to turn the stone over, seemingly unperturbed at seeing her own name on it. "Go on," she stepped back and gestured grandly. "Take a swing at it."
He finally realized her plan and smiled, his unease morphing rather quickly into anticipation. "Really?"
"Mitch, it's been almost a year since the crash, but you still carry the guilt around with you like a shroud. It doesn't matter how many times I tell you it wasn't your fault, a part of you still believes you could have done more. I died…" Mitch recoiled visibly at her words but she doubled down. "I died, and you grieved with the heart of a man who believed himself responsible. These last few months have been so hectic that none of us has had a chance to process much, least of all you. So think of this as a sort of therapy."
Mitch stared down at the white stone for a long moment. Her words reverberated through his head, and as he took several deep breaths he realized she was right. He'd been happier these last few months than he'd ever been in his life, but there was still a shadow lurking in the back of his mind that grew whenever he heard her whimper in her sleep or shy away from an unexpected touch. It made him angry that she'd had to endure that, and his hand tightened ever so slightly on the handle.
He planted his left foot forward and adjusted his grip. He remembered the way she'd looked when they'd found her in Caraquet, face drawn and eyes haunted. His muscles were halfway through the motion before he even realized he'd started to swing, and the head of the hammer made a satisfying crack! against the stone. There was a sizeable dent in the center of the stone, and he took a couple more hard swings. Finally he cleaved it in two, the jagged edge of the break zigzagging between the first and second letter of her last name. It felt good to see it.
"Feel better?" she asked, her tone light and teasing. It had taken her awhile to find that again, he recalled. For several weeks after reuniting with the team she'd been cold and distant, unsure of her footing in the new dynamic.
He took another swing.
Her last name and year of death shattered into several smaller pieces as white dust exploded outward. He turned his attention to the second piece and remembered being surprised at her birthday. He'd known she was younger than him, but there was almost eight year's difference between them. She certainly had exhibited her youthful spirit on their first few meetings, her fire and enthusiasm inescapable, but she'd held a wisdom in her eyes that made her seem older than what he realized now was merely twenty seven.
"Mitch?"
He blinked and turned his head. "Huh?"
"You drifted off there," she came to stand beside him, just a pace behind. "You okay?"
"Yeah," he breathed out and looked down at his handiwork. "That was...cathartic."
"Can I try?" She held her out hands eagerly and he relinquished the hammer. He took a few steps back as she adjusted her stance and her grip for a good swing. She hit the large piece with a force that surprised him, and it burst into tiny pieces. "That felt good." She dropped the hammer to the ground and closed the distance between them, slipping herself under his arms.
He winced slightly as his adrenaline wore off, reminding him that he'd been attacked by wild hybrids a little over a week ago. Jamie seemed to remember at the same time and she gasped as she jerked away from him.
"I didn't even think about your injuries. Are you okay? Nothing hurts too much, right? Do you need to go see a doctor?"
"I'm okay," he reached out and tugged her against him again, ignoring the aches and pains in favor of holding her. "Nothing a hot shower and some pain killers won't fix. You were right, though. I needed this."
"Come on," she nudged him toward the hummer. "All of this smashing made me hungry."
"You took one swing," he pointed out as they climbed into the vehicle.
"Yeah, well, you needed it more than I did."
He could only hum in agreement as he reached across the console for her hand. He laced their fingers together and rested them on her thigh, glad to see the soft smile she wore as she drove them back to the farmhouse.