by Lucin, David
“Cheers to that,” Gary said.
“So, Mr. Ruiz, what do you think about the Tesla? You should have tried the autodrive. It doesn’t need GPS or any kind of signal to navigate. Maps are all built into the software. Just uses the sensors to get around.”
Gary answered but Jenn stopped listening. Maria opened the cupboard and set two boxes of pasta inside. Ajax stretched out on the linoleum floor. If not for the wheelbarrow in the kitchen, Sam’s bloody lip, and beers before noon, the Ruiz house seemed normal. Gary laughed at something and slapped the table while Sam gulped his beer.
But it was an illusion.
Everything had changed. Jenn pictured her parents sitting in the dining room. Her father would serve them lunch while her mother would ask Jenn and her brothers about their days at school. Jenn would recount what she had learned, mostly in math class, and her mother would laugh and tell Jenn how smart she was. Jason and Andrew would make fun of her, but in a nice, endearing way, as their father pretended to scold them. Then they’d eat real meat, fresh fruit, and all that.
Never again, though. Deep down, she’d known since the explosions. Trying to run from the roof of Emerald City was her way of running from the truth. Then she buried that truth under hypotheticals: her parents would drive up to meet her, they lived too far away from the bombs, they were waiting for her to come home. Lies, Jenn admitted, to hide reality.
They were gone.
All of them.
Jenn was the last of the Jansen family.
“Sam,” she uttered, interrupting his talk with Gary. When she reached for her beer, her fingers wouldn’t grasp it.
Sam set his can down, and his smile faded. “What’s up?”
“We’re not leaving tomorrow.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re gone,” she said. Her hands trembled, so she thrust them into her lap. “My parents. They’re dead. I know they are. You guys are all I have left. This is home now.”
* * *
After two sips of beer, Jenn excused herself from the table and withdrew to her room, where she lay atop her sheets in bed. Ajax tried following her in, but she wanted to be alone and shut the door to keep him out. Both legs felt like jelly and the base of her skull pulsed with a headache, but the blood in her nose had finally cleared. As she curled up on her side, a tightness in her back and stomach eased. She allowed her eyes to close, and soon, the sound of Ajax scratching to be let in faded and her world went quiet.
Then she found herself standing in the hallway of the Ruiz house. Her clothes were different—shorts and her green NAU T-shirt, not jeans and a tank top—and the walls and floor appeared fuzzy and indistinct. The framed photograph of Gary, Maria, and a teenage Camila with a mouthful of braces was missing from its spot beside the office. When Jenn peered through the doorway, the room had bunk beds, the same as her bedroom in Peoria, no desk and bookshelves filled with military history.
“Garcia’s on deck,” her brother Jason said from the couch. He had the same square jaw as her father, but he had her mother’s dark, wavy hair. It was going gray in the temples, even though Jason was only twenty-eight. Well, he was twenty-eight when he died. He would have turned thirty this August.
“What’s the score?” Jenn asked.
“Tied at three, top of the fifth. Rockies scored two last inning. Garcia’s two for two with a double and an RBI already.”
“Okay,” Jenn said. “I’ll be right there.”
Esteban Garcia was the Arizona Diamondbacks’ rookie shortstop, a real five-tool guy with enormous power for a middle infielder. Almost a month into the season, he was leading the National League in both home runs and batting average and was second in RBI. Not bad for a twenty-year-old who escaped Brazilian-occupied Venezuela to play baseball in the United States. If he kept this up, he’d win the triple crown. Jenn wondered if a rookie had ever done that before. Jason would know. She made a mental note to ask him.
“You hungry?” Jenn’s father asked from the kitchen. He wore his apron that said “World’s Greatest Chef” on it. Jenn and her mother bought it for him as a joke one Christmas, but he insisted on wearing it whenever he was cooking. “I’ve got burgers on the barbecue. Real burgers.”
“Thanks,” Jenn said. “No onions on mine.”
Her father waved a pair of tongs at her. “Sure thing.”
She snatched a slice of cheddar from a plate on the counter and folded it into her mouth. The cheese was firm, the texture just right. Either it was real or a damn good imitation. Dad had spared no expense today. “Where’s Mom?” she asked.
In her purple housecoat, Maria shut a cupboard and turned around. “She’s out for a walk, sweetie, but she’ll be home in time for lunch.”
Ajax jumped onto the dining room table and meowed at Jenn. He leaned into her hand as she scratched his neck.
“Get down from there!” Maria stormed over and clapped her hands together. “Shoosh!”
Ajax didn’t budge.
“Jenn!” Jason called from the living room. “He’s up!”
“Coming,” Jenn said, then darted over to the couch and sat beside Jason. Gary was here now, his nose in a book with a mushroom cloud on the front cover.
“Good thing it’s an away game,” he said and flipped a page without looking up. “Unless Denver got hit, too.”
He laid the book over his knee and reached for a bowl on the coffee table. Jenn did, too, and scooped out a handful of chips. Salt and vinegar—her favorite. On the TV, the ambient chatter of the fans grew louder, and someone blew a horn. The sun cast long shadows across the infield. Jenn could almost smell the popcorn and whatever passed for hot dogs these days.
“Here comes the pitch,” the commentator said, his voice full of anticipation. The pitcher wound up and threw. Garcia, a lefty with a relaxed, open stance, loaded and swung—a fluid, effortless motion. Jenn thought it was beautiful: equal parts science and art. He made contact, and the sound told her it was gone. From the looks of it, Garcia knew, too. Bat still in hand, he sidestepped out of the box and watched the ball sail away. “That’s deep to center!” the commentator shouted. “Back, way back, and out of here!” Garcia flipped the bat and trotted down to first, the Colorado crowd now deathly silent.
Jason shot up in his seat and hollered at the TV. Jenn clapped and hugged him. They stayed like that for a while, and she cherished every second.
A bang came from the front door. Sam barreled through, his face red and his eyes wide. “Jenn!” he shouted. “Come with me!”
“What?” she said. “Where are we going? It’s only the fifth and Garcia just—”
“There’s no time!” Sam grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her away from Jason, who stood there motionless. He wore his patterned black and brown uniform now, and his hair was buzzed to the scalp. The left half of his face was charred and burned, blood dribbling from his mouth. In the kitchen, Maria waved goodbye as Ajax rolled over on the linoleum floor. Where had her father gone?
Sam pulled her outside, into the streets, but they weren’t in Flagstaff anymore; this was Peoria. The sun hurt Jenn’s skin, and the air smelled like trash. Distant sirens and thumping music, probably from the nearby modular housing complex, fought for dominance in her ears. Gunshots rang out and temporarily overpowered both.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked Sam. A sense of unease wormed its way into her bowels as he tugged her past foreclosed single-story duplexes. She wanted to yell at him for bringing her here.
“Your house,” he said.
“What?”
Sam stopped and pointed. Jenn followed his finger to her Peoria home. Smoke billowed from the windows, and flames licked the walls and roof. Her father’s red Nissan was parked on the street out front.
“We have to help them,” Sam said. “Your parents.”
He tugged at her arm again to lead her inside, but her feet were glued to the asphalt beneath her. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to will the fire away, but when s
he opened them again, the flames stretched into the sky. A scream came from the house. Then the roof collapsed into a ball of fire.
Finally, she could move, but when she ran forward, her foot caught on something, and she fell to the ground. When she looked to see what had tripped her, she saw a man with a bushy beard and a shaved head—the security guard from the Go Market. He lay motionless on his stomach. Blood pooled around his neck.
Jenn crawled over to him. “Wake up!” she yelled.
No response.
“Wake up!” She put her hands on his shoulders and shook. He didn’t move, so she lowered her ear to his back. Nothing. She placed two shaky fingers on his throat and felt for a pulse.
His skin was ice cold.
Her eyes shot open. In her jeans and tank top, she stared at the popcorn ceiling from her bed at the Ruiz house. Cool sweat drenched her face and shirt, and she shivered. Her heart raced and her stomach churned. Then it churned again. Acid climbed into her throat. She jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, slammed the door behind her, and threw up.
When she finished, she wiped her mouth with a towel and slumped down beside the sink. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her sinuses burned. She smelled vomit. Some had splattered the rim of the toilet.
Eyes shut, she focused on her dream. In it, she had hugged Jason and watched a game with him, but when she fought to remember more, the image of the man from the Go Market forced itself into her mind. In the dream, he was bleeding. Did she see blood at the Go Market? No, not that she remembered. She didn’t even hit him that hard. At most, she’d knocked him unconscious. In the majors, a few times a season a line drive would hit a pitcher in the face at a hundred miles per hour. None of them ever died. A few years ago, one had reconstructive surgery, but he was on the mound for the following season. Something similar happened in her high school softball league. During her senior year, one girl caught the catcher in the temple with the end of her bat. She left the game for fear of a concussion but was playing again the next weekend. No way a tire iron to the head was worse than a bat to the temple or a line drive to the forehead. That man was okay. He must be.
Satisfied she had finished vomiting, Jenn wiped the toilet clean and flushed it, then washed her hands in the sink. Before going to the living room, she returned to her bedroom and dug out the old analog-style watch her parents had given her for a high school graduation present. At the time, it seemed like an odd gift; nobody wore watches anymore. The antique embarrassed her, so she always hid it away in her dresser. She hadn’t even worn it when she visited her family last Christmas. Now, she wanted to keep it close, no matter what. This watch was one of the only things left of her mother and father.
When she finished strapping it onto her wrist, she checked the time: 2:45 p.m. She’d been asleep for hours. Aside from the dream, the day had passed in a blink.
In the kitchen, Maria sat at the dining room table and read a cookbook. Beside her, the battery-powered oxygen compressor hummed. Jenn’s eyes wandered to the couch. No Jason and no Diamondbacks game.
“You’re up!” Maria closed her book. “Are you feeling okay? I heard you run to the bathroom.”
“Yeah,” Jenn said. “I’m fine. How are you? Does that compressor work okay?”
“It’s great. “Maria pushed herself up from her seat and wrapped her arms around Jenn. “You’re very brave—and very strong. We’re here if you need us.”
Jenn sniffled and squeezed Maria tighter. “Thanks,” she said into Maria’s shoulder.
Maria let Jenn go and smiled that smile of hers. It told Jenn that everything would be okay; Maria would make sure of it.
“Where are the boys?” Jenn asked.
“Outside. Probably bonding over Sam’s car.”
Jenn liked hearing about that. She’d always wanted Gary to accept Sam. “Best buddies now, hey?”
“Apparently,” Maria said. “I’m not complaining.”
“Neither am I.”
The front door squeaked open, and Sam and Gary stepped through. “There you are,” Gary said. The words weren’t accusatory. He hated when Jenn slept in late, but he sounded genuinely happy to see her out of bed.
Sam planted a kiss on Jenn’s head. If he smelled the vomit on her, he didn’t say anything. She appreciated that right now. “You doing okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said, not sure if she meant it or not. “Where were you guys?”
“Gary and I went to check in on Erin,” Sam said. “Liam’s still out.”
Jenn gulped. Was Liam at the Go Market this morning? Did he find that security guard on the floor? Did he know what Jenn had done? Anxiety flooded her stomach, and she wanted to throw up again.
“Any news?” she sputtered.
“Not really.” Gary laid his keys into a bowl beside the door. “The smoke’s thicker. You can smell it.”
Maria touched the plastic hose wrapped around her ears. They had found her an oxygen compressor, but Jenn wished she could do more. First the power outage and now this. How much more difficult could things get for Maria?
Gary eased himself into a seat at the dining room table. “We’ll have to keep the doors and windows shut to limit our exposure.”
“Mr. Ruiz,” Sam started. “Should we fill the tub like you said?”
“Fill the what now?” Jenn asked.
“The tub,” Gary said. “We should fill it with water. The water towers will probably run out in the next day or two, so we should store as much as we can.”
“I’ll do it,” Sam said, then made for the bathroom.
“Have a seat.” Maria pulled out a chair for Jenn as the sound of running water came from down the hall.
After a moment, Gary cleared his throat. “I think it’s best if Sam stays here again tonight.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Jenn said.
Ajax jumped onto Maria’s lap. “No,” she said. “He should just move into Jenn’s room instead. It’s safer if we’re all together.”
The blood drained from Gary’s face. He and Sam had learned to accept each other and were even showing signs of friendship, so he wasn’t worried about having Sam in his home—no, he was worried about Jenn moving in with a boy. His ghostly complexion said he thought it was too soon. How would Jenn’s father have reacted? He met Sam for the first time last summer, when Jenn brought him to meet her parents in Peoria. They hit it off, thanks in large part to Sam’s charisma. Her father would have supported Sam moving in if Jenn felt the timing was right.
Sam appeared from the hallway. The water was still running in the bathroom. Maria turned to him. “What do you think, Sam?” she asked. “We’re discussing you moving in with us.”
He hooked this thumbs into his pants pockets. “I don’t want to impose. I’m okay at—”
Maria quieted him with a shushing sound. “Nonsense. You’re more than welcome here, assuming Jenn’s okay with it.”
Was she? Sam moving in made logical sense. No point in him staying on campus. Plus, she wanted him nearby, especially now. After all they’d gone through yesterday and this morning, she felt closer to him than ever before. They might have been together for only a year, but she couldn’t imagine going to bed at night without him beside her.
She smiled at him. “I think it’s a good idea. Hope you don’t mind, Gary.”
Gary tapped the table with his fingers. “Makes sense.”
Looking serious now, Maria eyed Sam. “I’ll have a list of chores ready for you tomorrow morning.”
A joke. Jenn could tell by Maria’s tone. Sam, though, seemed to take Maria at her word. “I’ll do everything I can to help.”
“I’m holding you to it.” Maria nodded to the bathroom. “You can start by checking on that tub.”
“Crap. Be right back.” Sam ran into the hallway.
“Please don’t scare my boyfriend like that,” Jenn teased.
“Oh, he knows I’m kidding.” She pushed up her glasses. “He does, doesn’t he?”
<
br /> “Yes,” Jenn reassured her. “I hope so, anyway.”
The sound of running water stopped. When Sam returned, he said, “All full, Mr. Ruiz.”
“Thanks, Sam.” Gary crossed his arms. “Let’s go get your stuff later. You should come, Jenn, if you’re feeling up to it. Maybe we’ll head over there after dinner. Hopefully things have calmed down around town by then.”
13
Someone had smashed the sliding glass doors to Sam’s building in McKay Village. Shards lay on the carpeted floor. The sound of them beneath Jenn’s shoes conjured memories of her marching into the Go Market, tire iron in hand. She tried to bury them.
Sam drove his Tesla here and parked outside the quad. They left just before dusk, kept the headlights off, and took a back route to stay off Milton. Jenn’s gut twisted when she saw the flashing red and blue lights in the direction of the Go Market. She wondered if anyone had died—if the gunshots she’d heard had killed someone.
“What a mess,” Gary said, his flashlight trained on the pool of glass on the floor. When he made to step over it, he stumbled.
Sam reached out an arm to catch him. “Careful, Mr. Ruiz.”
“Easy now,” Jenn teased. “You fall around crime scenes like?”
“I mostly worked the beat,” Gary said, regaining his balance.
Jenn felt herself making a face.
“On the street,” Gary clarified. “I wasn’t a detective or anything.”
Sam pointed to his right, down a hallway. “This way,” he said.
Gary’s light guided them through the dark. The air smelled like garbage and rotting food. The stench grew stronger as they moved deeper into the building. Ahead and on the left, a door hung open, and the setting sun streamed into the hall. Inside, a table and two chairs had toppled over. A fresh wave of the stink hit Jenn. It nearly made her retch, so she pinched her nose with her fingers.
“Up here.” Sam led them into a stairwell. He’d cupped a hand over his mouth.
On the second floor, they passed another apartment. Voices came from inside. Gary reached out and tugged Sam’s shirt, then put a finger to his lips. Sam gave him a thumbs-up and crept past, down the hall.
