Will Rise from Ashes

by Jean M. Grant

  Depleted and defeated, I turned to my journal, keeping a watchful half eye on Will as he ate and played.

  My thoughts fell upon my own mother, who died from cancer when I was twenty-five. It had left a gaping hole in my life. Then Harrison last year. A larger hole. It had widened a wound that I thought was healed…but it had been left festering.

  Now…would I lose my Finn, too?

  I paused. Oh, God, my Finn.

  A youthful giggle emerged from a child playing at the other picnic pavilion. It sent quivers through my stomach. My Finn’s laugh was a hug for my ears.

  Instead of crying, I allowed the ink to be my tears as I poured my thoughts onto the crisp pages. Reid’s conversation about God resetting humanity didn’t sit well with me. I was a woman of faith and fate. Or at least I had been. Maybe I had lost that faith long before I’d lost Harrison.

  I paused, letting the wind that stirred the nearby trees envelop me. A sudden chill ran down my spine as I coughed.

  I drew my hand to the page, but there was no stopping the dizzying spiral in my head. Too many thoughts bounced around in there like tumbleweeds. The pen fell from my shaking fingers, and I stared at the page. I’d never put it on paper. I’d never said it aloud. Painful thoughts had carved their own permanent residence in my brain, burrowed in the corner, obstinate and refusing to be evicted. I’d come a long way since last year, and I knew with each day, I’d heal more.

  My head grew light, my fingers tingled. The pages blurred. The irregular panicked beat of my anxious heart climbed my throat, and I lost my breath.

  “Mommm…” Will’s voice came in, higher-pitched than normal.

  Then all I saw was black.

  ****

  I awoke in the passenger seat of my SUV.

  My scratchy throat and a rumbling in my head prevented me from speaking.

  A heavy hand rested on my forehead. “You’re warm. I think you have a fever.”

  It was Reid. Startled into the present, I bumped my head on the hanging windshield visor. “Gah.” I leaned back, blinked, and then looked at Reid.

  Concerned dark eyes regarded me. His face came into focus as the two Reids merged into one. I reached forward to touch his round chin to ensure that he was not a figment of my imagination. The prickle of coarse stubble awoke the nerve endings in my fingertips. “I’m okay,” I said to him.

  “No, you’re not. Take these.” He shoved a water bottle and cold medicine into my hand. He must have raided my trunk stash. I wanted to tell him what I really needed was the second to last antidepressant, too.

  I did as told and searched past him for Will.

  “Here, Mom!” Will chimed in from the back seat. “Are we going now?”

  I shook my head and instantly regretted it.

  Reid’s hand had not left my forearm. “I’m okay. It’s just a cold,” I insisted.

  “A cold doesn’t make you faint.”

  I pulled my arm from his grip, as much as the warm touch of a hand on my skin that was not a child’s comforted me. “Well, a cold topped with driving all day, not sleeping at night, and hardly eating or drinking will do that,” I countered, blinking. And weaning off a powerful medication…I wasn’t sure why I felt shame admitting that part.

  He compressed his lips and ran a hand through his hair. His forehead furrowed with a frown.

  “Should we stop for the night? Maybe a motel? Let you rest in a real bed. I saw a sign a few miles back,” Reid offered.

  “No. We need to keep going. I-I can’t lose another,” I said, my voice hoarse. I battled the darkness. I floated in a murky haze. Disjointed visions entranced me.

  “AJ, drink this,” Reid said, tipping the water bottle to my mouth. I gagged on it, as thirsty as I was. It tasted like dust. Reid tried again, and I took a reluctant swallow. I looked at the bottle. The water sloshed around like an upset ocean. I swatted the bottle away and spit the salty sea of rocks. Was he giving me saltwater? Drugging me? What was going on? Was I dreaming? No, no. There was Will. In the back seat.

  “No…” Stars danced behind my eyelids. I kept blinking, but the more I did, the grayer Reid became. Now he was ghostly pale, not his radiant sun-kissed skin. His mouth moved, but I heard no words. His face blanched and then faded against the white sky. A ruggedly handsome chin grew distorted, and his thick prominent eyebrows disappeared.

  “AJ…”

  Darkness pulled me in again.

  ****

  “Can I have the swipe key?” Will asked.

  He loved hotels. It had been one of his favorite parts of their trip to Yellowstone. Well, other than the volcano stuff.

  “Sure,” Reid said. “We need to get your mom, first. Can you be my helper, buddy?”

  Will nodded. “Yeah.” He took the card from Reid and flipped it over in his hand. This card had a picture of a white arch on it and read, “Welcome to Missouri.” He traced it with his finger. “What’s this arch?” he asked. It looked like a smooth bridge. He loved the shape of it. It curved in such an interesting way. It looked like a parabola!

  “That’s the Gateway Arch.”

  “Where is it?”

  “North of us, in St. Louis.”

  “Maybe we can go see it. Finn would like it. We can see it on our way home. I wonder how they built it.”

  They reached the car to find Mom in the front seat, sleeping. She didn’t look well. Her face was not as colorful as usual, and her forehead was beaded with sweat. Reid opened the door.

  “Will, I need you to open the doors for me in the hotel, okay?”

  Will waved the key card. “Uh-huh! Is Mom going to be okay?”

  Reid’s smile was wide and honest with nice white teeth. He had a little beard on his face, like the way Dad’s used to get if he had not shaved in three days. “Yes.”

  Sometimes people’s faces did one thing and the words they said didn’t match. Not this guy. Reid’s face and words matched. Will liked him. But Mom was sick, and that worried him.

  Reid carried Mom to their room. Will had to swipe two times to get the card to work. The green light flicked on, and he turned the handle, shoving the door open. Many smells were gross, but he liked the scent of hotels. It smelled like the clean laundry from the dryer. The towels were all lined up in the bathroom. He ran around, turning on the switches. He nibbled his lip, struggling with a round one. You could push it in or turn it to adjust the light. Interesting. He remembered Grandma used to let him sit in her minivan, with the doors wide open, and he’d play with all the cool buttons for hours. That was when he was four. He was a big kid now and didn’t need to do that anymore. Although that round button was cool. He pushed it again.

  “Will, can you help me?” Reid laid Mom on a bed. “Can you watch your mom for a little while? I need to go to the store and get us medicine and supplies.”

  Reid knelt to his level and looked him straight in the eyes. Will flinched at first, but then drew his gaze away from the switch and stared at Reid. He watched his mouth move as he spoke. “Will, did you hear me?”

  Will nodded. “Mom doesn’t leave me alone.”

  “It will be okay. You’re not alone. You have your mom here, see?”

  Will nodded, hesitant.

  “Do not open the door for anyone, okay? I have a key. I’ll return soon. Here’s your bag and snacks. Only drink the bottle of water in your bag, okay? Not from the sink.”

  “Okay.” Will then returned to the switch.

  “Will, buddy?”

  “Got it. Water bottle. Wait.”

  After ten minutes, it grew boring. This hotel room didn’t have as many cool switches as the other hotels they’d visited. Besides, he wasn’t a baby anymore. Mom told him he was a big kid now. He had to be a role model for Finn.

  Will chewed his lip and tapped his knee. He felt Mom’s forehead like she always did for him when he was sick. It was hot. He lifted her hand and kissed the top of it. Maybe kissing her hand would work the way it did for babies. Sometimes when Finn
was littler, Will would sneak into his room to check on him and give him kisses on his head. If you kiss toddlers and babies while they were sleeping, they had good dreams. Mom looked like she could use a happy dream now. Maybe it worked on grown-ups.

  The clock read 2:04 p.m. It wasn’t close to bedtime yet, and he was too old for naps.

  He flipped through a stack of magazines on the desk. One had the arch on the cover. He opened it and read about the building of the arch. Apparently, it was not a parabola as he’d originally thought. It was a catenary curve, which was different. He read about that, and then analyzed the pictures. After a few minutes, he closed the magazine.

  He located the TV remote. He’d already seen the news about the volcano. Most hotels didn’t get the weather station or have cool shows like you could stream online. He turned it on anyway. Video of the eruptive column of the volcano showed on this channel. It was a science show, not like the regular news shows. He sat, observing how the plume billowed and rolled. Much like the Mount St. Helens eruption, the vertical column ascended about fourteen miles into the air, which meant it was not supervolcanic or mega-colossal, but it was a VEI 6 or VEI 7 on the scale, at least a hundred times greater than the eruption of Mount St. Helens based on the ejecta volume, which scientists were determining. Reports were still coming in. Even though the eruption wasn’t a VEI supervolcanic eruption, scientists were concerned that another bigger eruption could follow due to magma chamber instability. A video simulation demonstrated how Mt. Washburn and other notable Yellowstone peaks had crumbled into the magma chamber and how the ground cracked and opened up for many miles.

  He clicked to another channel. This one was a news show.

  It had been nearly a week since the eruption and the newscasters were showing other videos now: forest fires, helicopters rescuing people, towns covered in a fat blanket of ash and people digging like you did after it snowed, and the fallout zone of trees flattened from the blast. That was cool. He liked when they showed those video clips. But there were also people crying. He scratched his head. He didn’t like that stuff, and that stuff always made his mom sad. They didn’t talk much about what the new crater looked like.

  A scientist came on and spoke about his experience with Mount St. Helens. Well, that was interesting, but Will had already seen and read everything about that volcano. He wondered if the supervolcano would have dome regrowth like Mount St. Helens. He loved the time-lapsed video his dad had found on a website that showed the dome’s regrowth, with its fumes hissing and spitting and more ash building. Maybe it would erupt again, too.

  The scientist was done talking, and they returned to the people crying.

  He turned off the television.

  He grabbed a mandala coloring book and colored pencils from his backpack.

  One mandala captured his eye right away. It had a lot of swirling shapes within the middle circle and angled lines around the edges, like the corners of a roof coming together. He traced the spirals with his finger, following the path over and over. It reminded him of Finn, who loved whirlpools and galaxies and black holes.

  Maybe he’d save that page for Finn. He flipped through the book and found another equally fascinating one, and chose the blue pencil. Coloring the spiral shapes always quieted the buzzing in his head.

  ****

  I awoke disoriented. Ouch, and a blinding headache as I sat upright. A carousel of colors whirled around me. I winced and eased back. This habit of waking spellbound had to stop.

  Will was at my side, shaking my shoulder. “Mom, I’m hungry. It’s way past dinner.”

  “Get a snack from the kitchen,” was my reply.

  “This room doesn’t have a kitchen, and I can’t go to the vending machine alone.”

  Well, that drew me from my haze.

  I sat up, albeit slower, and realized not only was I in a bed, but I was in a hotel room. A freezing hotel room. I tugged at the neck opening of my T-shirt, coughed, and lifted a clammy hand to my hot forehead. I shivered uncontrollably.

  “How did we get here?” I managed to ask, pulling the covers to my chin. Despite the fear that threatened to besiege me, a sense of relief dwarfed it. Will was beside me. He was okay. Nothing had happened to him. But Reid…my gaze darted around the cramped room…he was nowhere in sight.

  “You fainted. Twice, Mom. Are you sick? Reid brought us here. He’s not back yet. I’m hungry. He said he’d return.”

  “What time is it?” I answered myself by looking at the bedside clock, which read six thirty p.m. I blinked and focused. Yup, the same. “Shit.”

  I stood, shaking. A search through my handbag yielded only my spare set of car keys. I always traveled with both sets, paranoid I’d lose one. The other set was gone.

  Reid hadn’t left us. He couldn’t have.

  “Grab your bag, Will.” I pocketed the key card on the nightstand and was already making for the door. “Where are we?”

  Will moaned. “We aren’t sleeping here? I’m hungry.”

  I leaned on the desk and shoved the hotel directory aside. I found a notepad that said Illinois. Okay, we hadn’t gone far after I’d fainted.

  I pulled Will a tad too roughly by the arm, he winced, and I let go. Get a grip, AJ. Hurt flickered in his face with the hint of an impending meltdown. “I’m sorry, Will. Let’s get food on the way, okay?”

  “Do you have four quarters? I want a snack from the vending machine. I know it’s not a dinner, but I want cheese puffs. May I?” he asked, voice hopeful, and he instantly snapped back to normal mode.

  “Yes, honey.”

  After what seemed like forever going through the maze of hallways and Will’s indecisive choice-making at the vending machine because there were two types of cheese puffs, we made our way to the parking lot. All the while, I wheezed with each step. I dug in my bag for my inhaler and took a puff. A cold sweat moistened the hair at the nape of my neck, and I licked dehydrated lips.

  I searched for my blue SUV among the vehicles in the parking lot. I scanned back and forth twice, refusing to believe the obvious. It was gone.

  I cleared my throat and invoked a steady composure for Will’s sake. “When did Reid leave?”

  He was distracted with eating his cheese puffs, meticulously licking his fingers.

  For a child who has been obsessed with clocks since the age of four, and who became crippled with changes in schedule, he was undaunted by our dilemma.

  “Where did he go?”

  He shrugged and crunched on another cheese puff.

  I almost snapped, but I quieted the beast. I took Will gently by the arm and positioned him into direct eye contact with me by kneeling to his level. “Will, think hard, okay? This is important. What time did the clock say when we arrived here? We had lunch at the rest stop, then what?” I coaxed, hoping to jog his perfect memory.

  Remembrance lit his eyes. “You blacked out, Mom. Twice. Then we drove twelve miles on the highway here to find a hotel. Reid carried you in. He said he was getting medicine and supplies. The clock read 2:04 p.m.” He scratched his head. “That was hours ago! What’s taking him so long?”

  He carried me in? “I don’t know.”

  I stared at the lot entrance, willing my SUV to drive through the gate. The minutes passed. I thought about asking the front desk clerk. What would I ask? What would they know?

  Tears of rage crossed my vision, and I needed to sit and drink water. We trudged back to the room. Rational AJ believed Reid would return. He was getting supplies. No need to panic.

  Regardless, once again, I was without. And it scared the shit out of me.

  Chapter Eight

  An Angel’s Kiss Upon My Heart

  I paced the hotel room.

  “I’m still hungry. I don’t have a lot of snacks in my backpack, Mom.”

  Nausea fluttered in my stomach. I riffled through my handbag and found my pill bottle. I shook it, knowing that high-pitched clack was one lone pill. I twisted it open and stared at the white oblong p
ill. I sighed, popped it in my mouth, and downed it with water from the tap. The water tasted gritty, and I gagged while swallowing. It hadn’t looked dirty.

  I called the front desk. “Hi, the water—”

  “Told you when you checked in. Don’t drink from the tap. Safe to shower and flush, but you need to drink your own beverages. There’s a store down the road.” Click.

  “What an asshole,” I mumbled. Told me? Jerk, I was passed out! More like told the guy I had come with…who left me.

  My thoughts propelled me into worse-case scenario mode. The thoughts fell atop each other, dominoes in my muddled mind. No car. No supplies. No way to get to Denver. No Finn. I hung my head low and cried a slow, numbing cry of grief. He hadn’t even left the bikes for us, to give us a fighting chance. Bastard. My sadness quickly turned to anger. No note! All he had done was tell Will that he’d be back—that was all I could discern from my son. I had been a fool. The crying didn’t help my sore throat and throbbing cranium.

  Wait…a note. “Will, did Reid leave a note? Another lollipop wrapper?”

  Will approached and hugged me. “I don’t know. It’ll be all right, Mom. He’ll come back. He said he would.”

  I pulled in my despair when I felt the gravity of my child’s hopeful gaze. I nodded and rubbed my nose. “Yup, you’re right. He will be back.” I wanted to believe it. I had to. There was no need to panic yet. He hadn’t played us. He’d return. There was still decency in this world.

  Or else I just got screwed. Again.

  “Can we rent a car or take a train?” Will offered.

  “Maybe.” I approached the desk and tossed about items, seeking a lollipop wrapper or any note. Nothing. I dropped to my knees and scanned under the desk, around the dresser, along the beds and other tables. Nothing. There went that theory.

  I had a lot of cash and credit cards, if they were being accepted, in my handbag. And a hidden stash in my jacket. The car stash had already been looted. I wasn’t going to be screwed. A part of me fought with the idea of leaving now, but my body and my sense told me we had to wait. Give Reid until the morning. If he didn’t return, then he was truly gone. I held on to hope.