Ashes Remain

by Alethea Stauron

  “Fine,” Artie nods, “You still need a haircut. You look like a crazy guy gone wild out here,” and ruffles Lucius’s scruffy locks.

  “That’s just my nerves giving that look.”

  “I wasn’t really asking.”

  Lucius sighs, “Please, don’t tell me you’re only here to give me a haircut and a few groceries? I need you here. I’m desperate.”

  “Desperate? Okay. I’ve got time. I’m not due for assignment for a while. I’m on call though. You know how that goes. What do you need?”

  “I have a viper in the house, Artie. I need you to tail him and report back to me what you hear,” angling his brows, “He’s dangerous. I wanna kill him… horrifically. I wanna rip him to shreds.”

  Artie’s eyes peel back, “A real viper?”

  “No…” Lucius drops all expression, “but a snake all the same. He can’t keep his hands to himself.”

  “Wait. Are you talking about a civilian?”

  “If you want to call him that? Sure.”

  Artie says, “You can’t just kill people, Lucius. There are laws. It’s outside your jurisdiction here. Civilians no nothing and are untouchable.”

  “I know what I can and can’t do, Artie.”

  “That sounded…” Artie looks off, “I know some people can be difficult sometimes,” pivoting back toward Lucius, “But, sometimes… he uses those kinds of people. The general uses them. And often some of our best soldiers later on when they find out about the war.”

  “Not this guy,” Lucius stares through the ground like he’s digging a hole, “This guy’s a real snake. I’m more tempted now than ever.”

  “Lucius,” Artie lowers his voice with counsel flowing through his tone, “This must be the guy then.”

  “What guy?”

  “The Mangoram. What they were planning… trying to break you.”

  Lucius nods, “Most definitely. He’s a nasty pawn and has no idea. I can’t even tell you half the things he’s done,” meeting Artie’s gaze, “because I’m loyal to her and protecting her image. The guy’s a master at boiling my blood.” Lucius nods, “He’s clueless that I’m watching. Clueless that he’s inches from my blade. Clueless that he’s screwing with the wrong person. Clueless that —

  “Exactly why you can’t kill him. He doesn’t know anything.” Artie drifts two fingers toward him, “They know that,” and arches back his shoulders, “They know every rule we live by. If they get you to break those —

  “I know. Josephine and I… we don’t exist. Thanks for the reminder,” flicking his brow, “An ever-comforting friend… that’s what you are.”

  “Hey… I’m your accountability partner. Remember? Don’t shoot the messenger.”

  Lucius’s nose descends, “I’m not,” lowering his grumble, “I guess I’m glad you’re here.”

  “You were ecstatic a second ago.”

  “I am. Truth stings sometimes,” nodding, “But I’m glad you’re here.” He tilts a gaze over, “Did you bring bread,” twitching a brow, “maybe some cookies?”

  “You know I brought comfort food…” staring at a shag, “and scissors.”

  Lucius wrestles a smile, “I was gonna cut it.”

  “When? After Jesus comes back? You look terrible.”

  “Thanks,” Lucius tangles fingers through his hair. “I haven’t had a lot of time for grooming,” and makes strides toward the house.

  Under the covered balcony, Artie asks, “Who is he? The viper?”

  “Someone who wants to die soon.”

  “Lucius,” Artie redirects thinking, “that’s not healthy. You shouldn’t let that stinking thinking sink in. You can’t kill a civilian.”

  “Oh, he’s not dead. He just wishes he was,” and chuckles.

  Artie hitches a brow, “Why? What did you do to him?”

  “Let’s just say,” Lucius winks, “he won’t be touching her for a while.”

  Artie stops Lucius in the house, touching his elbow from behind, “When do I expect him? What time does he usually come around?”

  A sneering smile sours Lucius’s expression, “The thing lives here.”

  “What?” Artie wobbles his head, “Did you just say —

  “You heard me,” nodding confirms, “that nasty beast…” Lucius points toward Drake’s room, “the thing stays in her old room!”

  “You got to be kidding.”

  “Nope. She has no idea. He’s got her fooled a hundred percent. She thinks he’s a great guy with a big old, chewy, gooey…” Lucius squeezes his fists like holding Drake’s organs in his hands, “warm… heart or something.”

  “Lucius, I thought you said something along the lines of he’s touching her,” taking a long blink of disabled understanding, “How could she not realize what you’re telling me… with him living here?”

  “Because she doesn’t understand. She’s not like them,” and points at his temple, “She’s like a child. Easily fooled, lied to, and used by them because she doesn’t know any better.”

  “Like a pawn,” Artie reminds him, “Used like a pawn. The reason she needs to find out in the right way. Or how you use to think drinking was medicine to fall asleep. Completely ignorant about such things.”

  “That’s not fair to say, especially, since you know how I feel about her. This guy’s total trash and she’s not like him. He drinks, knowing what he’s doing. I didn’t. You’ll know what I mean while you’re here. He’s unlike any I’ve ever seen before. Practically changing by the day. He’s got an excuse for everything,” snapping stern fingers together, “In a moment… he’s figured out a backup story. A story she falls for every time and believes herself to be in the wrong about.”

  “I said I’d help and I’m going to…” glancing a gesture over, “but I’m cutting your hair tonight. You look like a madman. We can discuss how to work through this later. Not everyone is trash. Sometimes you have to clip off the unwanted parts before you can see the good inside.”

  “Fine.” Lucius leads Artie upstairs, “I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to make me feel sorry for him, so I don’t kill him. So, I don’t break rules. Or die in prison,” and swivels back, “Thanks for trying,” and finishes climbing the stairs.

  “Obvious, huh? I just need you to calm down. You were smiling before and all of the sudden —

  “Drake. His name’s Drake.” Outside the bedroom door, Lucius says, “Let’s see if you can muster up some sympathy for this viper… after… you get to know him.” Before Artie can walk through the door, “Artie,” Lucius asked, holding Artie’s upper arm.

  Artie glances back. Half his body standing through dimensional properties of a wooden door, “Yes, Lucius?”

  “Make it short.”

  “Make what short?”

  “My hair. Like last time. When Josephine and I were dating. When we were together.”

  “I didn’t cut it last time. You did,” Artie answered.

  “Well… I want it like that. She liked it like that. She imagines my hair short in her dreams. You know…” shrugging, “in case he gets back to me.” His watery eyes plead over, “I’ve been sending messages. Lots of them.”

  “You know what you’re asking with those transmissions? Lucius, that’s a lot. That’s —

  “Please? Has he…” Lucius’s bottom lip quivers, “something? I’m not doing so good. Little by little I’m falling apart, by not knowing.”

  A subtle shake of Artie’s chin breaks Lucius’s plead, “He hasn’t spoken to me, Lucius. That’s pretty sensitive stuff. That’s his daughter you’re crushing on. He wouldn’t advertise something like that to us soldiers. He would only say that he trusts you to do the right thing. He wouldn’t entertain the idea of…”

  Lucius nods, “I understand,” and turns the corner of the loft, wiping his eyes.

  Drake survives his allergic reaction a few more days. A few more days with a groin infection, facial blisters, and most of his bruises disappearing enough to resemble a ma
n once again with a slight cough. Appearing as if he’s going through puberty a second time, but enough to be considered normal.

  His hands shake while going through bags and glances at his stash. “Almost out.” And sits at the edge of his bed with his head falling to his hands, “I’m gonna have to get more.” He makes weighted strides into the bathroom for his last relief for a while and falls asleep in an empty tub. When the back-door shuts it wakes him. He slides his empty bag into his pocket and travels out onto the loft. “Jojo,” he called. There’s no answer of where she is, until, he’s peeking through loft windows of the balcony area and sees her — outside.

  Josephine walks her property wearing her hiking boots and a thin hoodie, exploring hard to explain landscape changes from the past few months.

  Drake quickly sneaks across the loftway and swaps out real diamonds with fakes. “These’ll do.” In less than sixty seconds he’s gripping his car keys, placing on a billed cap, and out the door.

  ◆◆◆

  Downtown San Antonio bustles with tourists. Drake’s eyes bounce from head-to-head, watching, studying, and looking out. Looking for someone in particular. He hides in a cubbyhole area. The entryway of an unleased building. He glances a nervous ball in his throat around the corner every few minutes. “Where the hell is he?” He spits on the sidewalk, “I know he’s working today. Trying to earn my job. Dumb ass is too ugly to work the walk.”

  And

  his unaware target arrives with dark skin, shrouded by soiled threads which fit two sizes too large. He’s wearing an exaggeratedly wrinkled black coat. His ensemble makes the brown toboggan with a hole on the side look almost presentable. The man’s stature is shorter than Drake’s and appearing homeless. Walking around like he’s okay with urine, dumpsters, smelling like he bathes in the San Antonio River, and dries off with a wet dog. Like the word deodorant has never entered his mind. The man rubs his week-old whiskers, un-brushed against his jaw, as his eyes scan around the same way Drake’s does.

  He’s working.

  “Bingo,” Drake said as a short smile perks, “DJ.”

  DJ walks the sidewalk close to the wall. He walks a seemingly harmless line

  until

  grabbed to the side.

  DJ yelps, “The fu —

  “DJ,” Drake said, stuffing his palm over DJ’s mouth. “Shut up. You wanna get us both busted?”

  DJ bites toward Drake’s hand and uses a closed fist, slapping the man-handler’s arm, “What’s wrong with you, man? I thought you was a cop,” and scans around once said. “What are you doing here,” meeting Drakes gaze, “This is my street. You have the whole walk, fool.”

  “I’m out.”

  “So.” He adjusts his tented jacket, “Whatcha telling me for? You rubbing it in?” His eyes freeze from scanning around when he realizes. “You’re out?” His expression grows a mild amount of power, “Really out?”

  Drake nods, “I’m out.”

  “How much?”

  “I only need a little something. I was trying to cut down when I got sick. It would’ve fixed everything, but —

  “No man. That’s not what I’m saying. How much you owe?”

  Drake grabs DJ’s collar, “It’s not your business, prick.” DJ pushes back. Drake forces him in a corner harder this time, “I need three-hundred dollars worth. Right now. You’ll reap the benefit. He doesn’t even need to know I spoke to you, idiot. Take the deal,” and Drake slowly presses DJ’s skull against marble walling, “Or… we could do this the hard way?” He whispers in his ear, “I know where you hide.”

  “Shit, man. Why you gotta be a white prick about it?” His hand slides slowly toward his pocket, “Why didn’t you say so? We’re cool.”

  Drake releases DJ’s body, and pulls his pocket-knife on him the moment DJ turns around. DJ stops what he was doing and elevates his palm a few inches. “Hey. Hey, I ain’t doing nothing. I’ll work with you,” his words weakly drizzled out, “I wasn’t —

  “I know how it works, DJ.” Drake eyeballs his side, “You don’t carry any payload in your pocket.”

  DJ drops his arms, “Drake,” and slides a hand into his sleeve, “You’re a crazy bastard… you know that?” He pauses before making purchase and looks up, “Show me what you got first. I ain’t trip’n neither. Don’t pull me into the red with this.”

  Drake opens a wad of money straight from his pocket and counts loudly, “One, two —

  “Okay. Okay. Man, jeez,” DJ’s discrete eyes beg as he grabs several bags for Drake. His fingers are calculating what he’s doing and says, “You don’t have to be an ass about it. You know the undercovers is look’n for me ‘round here? Why you gotta be a douche?”

  Drake moves closer, making their corner less visible. “Shut up. Give it to me and I’ll leave you alone.” DJ takes the money and bends down. He moves his pant leg up, gaining access to his loose shoes. Drake slides plastic into his pocket. After the exchange, Drake steps back.

  “Where’s your partner,” DJ asked, stopping Drake from walking any further.

  DJ’s eyes expand when Drake circles back and paces closer. “Butcher couldn’t keep his mouth shut, DJ.” Drake places his hand into his pocket. A pocket concealing a metallic threat. A threat angled toward DJ. And a brown toboggin has his ears wide open, as Drake says, “He worked with me like you worked with me. Now you’re involved. If they find out what you just did before it’s paid off… you’re next. Doesn’t matter what you do.” Drake releases his pocket, “Do we understand each other?”

  And DJ nods his understanding with a moderate gulp sticking halfway down his esophagus. “Plainly.”

  ◆◆◆

  Drake gets in his car and is almost on the highway by the time Artie is able to blink from the experience. He gawks from the back seat.

  Well, Artie thinks, he’s hideous.

  Josephine stands in front of a warped tree, focusing her camera as she snaps a shot. Her brows weave together with a smoky glare of light captured in the frame. “What’s wrong with it,” observing the atmosphere. “Maybe the indirect sunlight is brushing through the clouds?”

  Lucius stands camouflaged and off to the side, forcing his feet to stay planted. It’s me, he thinks, I’m distorting the image. You do exist, Lucius. He reminds himself. Just not in her world. Not the way she sees it.

  She adjusts her camera for another shot. A clear shot. Proof that she hasn’t gone crazy. Proof that he loves her. Josephine walks the trail back to her house, passing by the old cedar barn. A thrill in her pocket catches her broadened eyes, and she answers with a high pitch voice, “Neil?”

  “Yep. It’s me,” Neil said. “How you been?”

  “You’re alive? I haven’t spoken to you in ages other than the two seconds at the wedding. They sat you clear on the other side with all those groomsmen.”

  “My mind’s been busy. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Carissa and I have had a full schedule.”

  “Finishing up your residency or that house y’all are having built.”

  He chuckles, “Built.” He jiggles a chain in the phone, “Got the keys right here.”

  “That’s wonderful. Y’all needing me to help you move in?”

  “No. We don’t have much. Or… I don’t. Carissa is a different story. We’re moving this week and we wanna have y’all over for a housewarming party. You don’t have to bring a gift or anything, just friends and family. You know… fellowshipping sorta thing.”

  A background voice breaks across the line, “Don’t tell her that, Neil,” Carissa said. “She’ll get something big. Just tell her I want that plate set she wanted to get me last year. The one with the serving dish and tea pot.”

  Neil sits in silence for a long pause. Josephine hears him breathing out, until, “Nevermind. You heard that. Right?”

  “Yes.” She smiles. “I heard it. I know the one she wants from the boutique we visited. Hopefully it’s still there.”

  “We’re having it this Saturday ni
ght.”

  Josephine says, “I’ll be there at five. That way I can visit without everybody else there for a bit. I haven’t seen y’all in a while.”

  Neil asks, “You’re gonna be here at five o’clock? We start at six-thirty.”

  Carissa’s voice travels through the phone again, “She can come early if she wants to. She can help me get ready.”

  Neil patiently whispers, “It’s at six-thirty. Are you bringing that guy I saw? What’s his name? I didn’t get to meet him.”

  “I could, if you want?”

  “I thought you wanted to bring… Lucius. That’s his name? And —

  She answers, “That wasn’t Lucius. I don’t know where Lucius is. The person you saw is my housemate. He’s just trying to get back on his feet. I could bring him to get him out of the house for a while. He’s been kinda struggling with depression because he was recently engaged. She broke it off right after his sister died. I’m helping him out shortly.”

  Neil stays silent for a minute.

  “Neil,” she asked. “Did my phone disconnect again?”

  “I’m here. But…” Neil softly questions, “aren’t you and that guy… I thought that was Lucius because David told me —

  “No. That’s Drake. He’s just a friend. I’m only helping him for short time. That’s all, Neil.”

  “Oh,” another short pause, “Um… he can come to the party. I’d like to meet him. Definitely bring him, so I can meet him.”

  “I don’t think he’s the type of guy that’s looking for a referral into med school, but…” Josephine says, “I’ll be there. Drake and I will be there, unless, I can find Lucius. He visited recently but I missed him.”

  “Well, we can’t wait to talk to your renter… and you, of course.”

  Josephine opens her back door, strolling inside, “Okay. See you then,” and closes the door behind her, as she hangs up. Drake returns as Josephine is sliding the phone into her hoodie pocket when she sees him trying to immediately go upstairs. “Wait! Drake,” she said.