The Seventh Day

by Scott Shepherd

  “There you go. We believe what we choose to believe, Laura. And I choose to believe your mother is watching over you and is as proud as can be.”

  Laura wiped her eyes. “I’d like to believe that too.”

  They sat in silence for a long time. Finally, Laura looked back at the castle.

  “Why didn’t Doc tell me the truth?”

  “Because he loves you and wanted to spare you the pain. He considered it a blessing you’d forgotten everything.”

  “I had—until I saw Aurora’s dream.”

  “You remembered nothing from that day?”

  “Just waking up and knowing it was my birthday. Then, nothing until I was back in my house with Doc and it was empty. I know I kept looking for my mother and Doc telling me she was gone.” Her eyes strayed back to the candy grave. “After a while I understood it meant she had died.”

  “He said you didn’t speak for a whole year.”

  Laura nodded. “I guess it was that long. It’s all really fuzzy still.”

  “What made you start talking again?”

  Laura began to answer, then hesitated.

  Her eyes returned to the gumdrop ladybug.

  Mommy and Doc were cleaning the dishes. Usually Laura helped. Mommy would wash, Doc would dry, and Laura put things away on the lowest shelves.

  But not this time.

  It was just Mommy and Doc. Laura was sitting in a corner of the room listening to them talk. They acted like they didn’t see her. Maybe she was playing a game of hide-and-seek but had forgotten to tell anyone.

  Or she was just invisible.

  “When’s the last time she said anything?” Mommy asked.

  “That day.”

  “Oh God,” said Mommy.

  “Her birthday.”

  Mommy began to cry.

  Laura wanted to comfort her, but found she couldn’t move.

  “It’s my fault,” said Doc.

  “It’s no one’s fault,” Mommy said through the tears.

  “I miss you so much. We both do.”

  “I know, Doc. I miss you guys too.”

  They hugged each other tightly.

  Which made Laura happier, even though she still couldn’t go to them.

  “I just wish she’d talk to me,” said Doc. “I’d feel so much better.”

  “I would too,” said Mommy.

  Laura woke up.

  She was lying on a mattress in the Winnebago. Doc was in a corner, putting together scraps for breakfast.

  She’d been dreaming about Mommy. She never dreamed about Mommy.

  In fact, she rarely dreamed at all.

  When she did, they usually made no sense.

  Kind of like this one.

  She got up and sat beside Doc; they ate in silence as usual.

  When they were finished, Laura asked for another carrot.

  They were the first words she had spoken since her sixth birthday.

  Doc burst into tears.

  She looked at him curiously as he explained how he’d just dreamed about her mother. They had been in their old kitchen and he had told her the thing he wanted most in the world was for Laura to speak to him again.

  That was the moment Laura realized when she actually had a dream that it belonged to someone else.

  Laura was crying now.

  Joad reached over and took her hand.

  “Still think your mother isn’t watching over you?”

  Laura smiled through the tears. Then she looked over at the castle where Doc was huddled beside Aurora.

  “Doc must hate me.”

  “Not at all. He blames himself for what happened to your mother.”

  “He wasn’t even there.”

  “He feels he should have been to prevent it.”

  Her eyes drifted to the parking lot. The cars were long gone; the wreckage as well. A quintet of horses stood quietly where years before Laura’s life was turned upside down.

  “I don’t think anyone could’ve changed what happened on The Seventh Day,” Laura said quietly.

  “Tell Doc that when you get a chance,” suggested Joad.

  “I’ll do that.”

  She turned back and studied the gumdrop ladybug.

  “Is it okay if we sit here awhile?” she asked.

  “Long as you want.”

  Laura offered up another smile and took Joad’s hand again. She squeezed it tightly.

  Joad couldn’t have felt more for a child of his own.

  33

  There were a lot of goodbyes.

  Aurora had told them they were welcome to stay as long as they wished, but she knew Joad was itching to get going. She couldn’t blame the man; this close to home after seven years, she imagined that any delay at this point would be unbearable.

  It had been late morning when Joad walked back with Laura from Candy Island. The girl had thrown her arms around Aurora and apologized profusely. Aurora repeatedly said she had nothing to feel sorry about. She was glad to see Laura take Doc by the hand and go for a walk. When they returned a few hours later, both were smiling. Joad wouldn’t tell Aurora what he had said beside the candy-covered grave; the truth was that she didn’t care. She was happy that everyone seemed at peace and ready to move forward with their lives.

  She insisted they stay one more evening, saying it was at least a two-day ride to Nemo, and pointless to start out a few hours before darkness, which would force them to find another shelter. This way they’d only have one night between Funland and Joad’s home.

  Laura helped Aurora gather vegetables and herbs from the garden, and they laughed while preparing dinner. Aurora, who had never really considered having a child of her own, seeing as how Funland had been overflowing with them for years, watched Laura with a mother’s pride and a bit of sadness for a family had that passed her by.

  Dinner was the most pleasant couple of hours Aurora could remember since The Seventh Day. They all ganged up on Joad, forcing him to tell a few tales about his travels from The Other Side (his journey across the great ocean with a stop on a deserted island had them hanging on every word). Fixer kept them amused with corny jokes Aurora hadn’t heard since childhood, jokes that still made her laugh out loud. Goaded by Laura, he even got an old clock that Aurora found years before in a ransacked store to start working again. Aurora didn’t know what was more astonishing: Fixer’s Gift or the low-whirring sound of something electrical inside the castle. The most gratifying thing was seeing Doc and Laura acting like father and daughter. She knew Naomi would lie forever in their hearts, and hoped those memories would now be a bond instead of tearing them apart.

  Eventually, it was time for bed. Aurora hugged Laura good night and wished the girl pleasant dreams. Laura told her to do the same, which made it impossible for Aurora to fall asleep. She feared her subconscious would bring up something that would make the girl bolt up with shared night terrors—even though Aurora couldn’t imagine what was left that would do so.

  She was still staring at the fire in the wee hours when Doc sat on the couch beside her. He was having trouble sleeping as well, for the very same reasons. They talked in hushed tones for a long time. Aurora still felt horrible that her dreams had caused Doc and Laura so much pain, but he said he was grateful there were finally no more secrets. For years he’d hated the part of himself that had kept so much from Laura. Now he could try to be the father that Naomi had hoped he would be.

  Aurora took his hand and said that he was a good man, and that Laura was oh-so-lucky to have him in her life. Doc murmured thanks and kissed her gently on the cheek. His lips lingered just long enough for Aurora to move her mouth softly to his own. For a while they caressed and nuzzled on the sofa like teenagers trying not to wake their folks. Eventually, Aurora stood and led him to her room. There, they spent the rest of the night and early morning together, thinking of nothing except each other. For a precious few hours, The Seventh Day was relegated to the deepest recesses of their minds.

  Shortly before
dawn, Aurora suggested that Doc return to his bed, lest it confuse Laura. He agreed but didn’t move right away; she didn’t protest. They knew that the moment they left each other’s arms they’d be back in the post-Seventh Day world. But the memories of the past few hours would help see them through it.

  Aurora fell asleep seconds after Sayers left her bed.

  And she didn’t dream.

  Now, standing on the drawbridge, Aurora tried to not stretch the goodbyes out longer than necessary. Easier said than done.

  She told Fixer she’d miss his jokes. He said that wouldn’t be necessary if she came with them. Laura lit up at the suggestion but Aurora said she just couldn’t up and leave. Funland was her home and she had been there way too long to just walk away. But she knew where they were headed, and she’d pay them a visit in the not-so-distant future.

  To that end, Joad insisted she keep the extra jet-black horse. It only weighed them down and it would give her mobility, as well as a way to get to Nemo should she so desire. She caught a mischievous grin from Doc but paid it no attention and hoped no one else noticed. Aurora protested, but only half-heartedly. She had admired the magnificent animal the moment she saw it and Doc’s grin was reason enough to accept the gift with graciousness. As she hugged Joad goodbye, she took a moment to whisper in his ear.

  “You helped free up a part of Doc’s and that little girl’s souls. Mine too, for that matter.”

  “I was just here,” Joad replied as they broke apart.

  “Sometimes that’s all it takes.”

  Laura was next and Aurora didn’t get a word out before the girl threw her arms around her, hugging her tight. She begged Aurora again to come with them, and wouldn’t stop until she extracted a promise for at least a visit.

  “I promise.”

  “When?” Laura asked eagerly.

  “Soon, little one.”

  “Soon can’t be soon enough.” Laura let loose a smile. “And I’m not so little anymore.”

  Aurora rumpled the girl’s strawberry hair. “Just the littlest one here.”

  Finally Aurora was left with Doc. They kept their hug as platonic as possible, but that didn’t stop Sayers from planting a gentle kiss on Aurora’s ear.

  “It’d be a shame if you reneged on that promise,” he murmured into it. “Laura would be sorely disappointed.”

  “I’d hope she wouldn’t be the only one,” laughed Aurora.

  “You can be damn sure of that.”

  She walked down the drawbridge ramp with them to the parking lot where, years before, her life had forever changed and become inexorably linked with Doc and the little girl who had grown into such an extraordinary young woman.

  Joad brought over the jet-black steed and gave Aurora a few tips; first and foremost, a warning to never stand in front of its nostrils unless she had a marshmallow on a stick she wanted toasted. He handed over the reins and wished her luck. Aurora told them likewise and that she’d see them soon.

  She watched them ride east, heading at long last toward Joad’s hometown. Once they disappeared over the horizon, she turned to face the horse. It studied her intently, as if egging her into a staring contest.

  Fat chance she’d win that.

  “Guess I ought to be figuring out what I’m going to do with you.”

  The shed where Aurora’s father had hand-carved the clown, windmill, and other landmarks populating Funland’s miniature golf course still stood in a corner of the deserted amusement park. For some inexplicable reason, all the tools had disappeared on The Seventh Day. Aurora sometimes wondered if the Strangers were using them to build a fun park of their own. She would shudder, thinking of what would amuse a race that had practically obliterated another one overnight.

  Empty, the shed was a perfect place to stable the horse. She filled an old pail with water and placed it on the ground. The horse lapped it up eagerly and proceeded to do likewise with a second helping. Aurora returned to the vegetable garden and gathered up an armful of goodies to bring back to the makeshift stable. The horse gobbled them up in an instant and Aurora realized she needed to come up with an alternate food source. Otherwise, her new boarder was liable to eat her out of castle and home.

  She spent the next few hours tidying up. Not that the castle needed much; her visitors had been perfect guests, careful and neat. But straightening up the beds, washing the plates squeaky clean, and swiping away dust that had settled long before their arrival let Aurora imagine that Doc and the others were still nearby or might return by day’s end.

  As she fluffed up the couch where she had sat with Doc the night before, she allowed herself to acknowledge the truth. Of course she wanted to go with them to Nemo. She hoped that getting together with Doc wasn’t a one-night stand, or just the act of two desperate people clinging to one another to avoid facing what lay outside the castle walls. There was a deeper connection and Aurora wanted nothing more than to have that with someone, especially after so many years alone and with a man as good as Doc. But she also didn’t want to get between him and Laura now that they had come to grips with what happened on The Seventh Day.

  Aurora felt that father and stepdaughter should get the chance to forge an honest, loving relationship with no strings attached. She would head to Nemo in good time and see what was what. No rush. After all, as she always said, time was one of the few things they had plenty of.

  Time. It made her think of the old clock, and as she dusted it off, she was happy to hear it whirring. It was almost eight o’clock (at least she thought so; they’d had to set the clock at something and had approximated, hours and minutes having stopped counting long ago). She realized it had almost been a dozen hours since they had left. She wondered where Joad would decide they’d stay the night before heading home. Aurora settled on the couch and closed her eyes for a moment, hoping wherever he chose was someplace safe.

  The sound of horse hooves awakened her.

  It was pitch black and Aurora realized she’d fallen asleep on the sofa. She fumbled around, found a match, and lit a candle. She looked at the old clock—just past eight. So much for Fixer’s Gift being everlasting. She knew it was much later than that. Definitely the middle of the night.

  As the horse hooves approached, her heart pumped with excitement. She wondered what had happened. Had they gotten lost? Were they unable to find a suitable place to bed down for the night? Maybe Doc told Joad he wasn’t going on without her and convinced him to return. Whatever the case, Aurora didn’t care. They were back! She raced for the door and exited the castle.

  And was hit with a wave of disappointment.

  There was only one horse. Jet-black. Like the one Joad had left.

  Two riders were on top of it. The one in the rear carried a flaming torch, casting both men in silhouette.

  “Hello, there,” came a voice. Aurora thought it belonged to the man in front, holding the reins.

  She moved forward cautiously. “Can I help you?”

  “Sorry to bother you at such a late hour,” said the man. “But we were wondering if you happened to see some friends of ours. Three men and a young girl?”

  The man’s face came into view.

  Or rather, what was left of it.

  He looked like he’d been hunted down by a monster-chasing mob and been nearly burnt to death. He had somehow survived but his face and body were covered in blackened scabs and scars. One eye was clearly made of glass; the reflection of the torch bounced off its opaque surface.

  The man carrying the torch was no beauty either. Half his once-blond hair was gone; what remained was singed charcoal black. He had the same burns and scars as his companion—only bigger. Probably because he was one of the largest men Aurora had ever seen.

  These weren’t friends of Joad and Doc’s.

  She knew exactly who these two men were. The brothers.

  Primo and Secundo.

  “Can’t say that I have,” Aurora answered, as plain-faced as possible.

  “You’re sur
e?” asked the burnt blond behemoth, who based on Joad’s description, had to be Secundo.

  “Um, I’d think so,” she replied with more than a hint of purposeful annoyance. “When you’re in the middle of godforsaken nowhere and no one rides by for months on end, you tend to remember Remaining. Especially—what was it? A girl and two men?”

  “Three,” said Primo.

  “Well, there you go. Sorry. Wish I could help.”

  “Then I guess you wouldn’t mind if we looked inside,” Primo said, all the niceties suddenly gone.

  “Maybe I would,” she answered, not liking the direction this was headed.

  “And how do you propose to stop us?” asked Secundo, flexing his seared muscles for emphasis.

  “With a little help.” Aurora threw a look back at the castle, trying to exude confidence someone would be coming to her rescue at any moment.

  “The same help that let a pretty woman go outside alone in the middle of the night?” Primo shook his scab-covered head. “We’re taking a look inside. If everything’s okay, we’ll be on our way. Clear enough?”

  Aurora realized that either she acquiesced, or things could get a whole lot uglier.

  “Crystal.”

  Her tidy-up spree was one of the best decisions she had ever made.

  Primo and Secundo turned the place upside down looking for any trace of Joad and the others. But they came up with nothing, growing increasingly frustrated in the process. She could tell they were certain she was lying—but there luckily wasn’t a shred of evidence to prove it. The beds were made, the dishes put away; it was only when they came upon the clock that Aurora’s heart skipped a beat. Then, she remembered that it had stopped working and felt a wave of relief sweep through her.

  Primo picked it up. “Haven’t seen one of these in a while.”

  “I keep it around hoping one day it’ll just start working.”

  “You keep on hoping.” Primo let it slip through his fingers and it crashed to the floor, breaking into a dozen pieces. “Oops.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Aurora through gritted teeth.

  “We won’t.”

  Aurora could feel him waiting for some reaction, any reason to lash out. She made sure she gave him absolutely nothing.