The Storm and the Darkness

by Sarah M. Cradit

  He looked at her thoughtfully. “I can probably guess what you’re thinking.”

  “Yes,” she said after a pause and a sigh. “You probably can.”

  “Because it is probably what I am thinking too,” he ventured.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “Probably so.”

  “You’re thinking that relationships suck, and maybe this has potential but maybe it doesn’t.”

  Ana nodded slowly.

  “But you’re thinking that the odds are in our favor, and you just don’t want to be the one to say it.”

  She liked him. Maybe more than liked, because for Ana, strong feelings did not come easily but they did come intensely. There was still fear this surrender would leave her exposed and inevitably bruised. It would be safer to go on as before and pretend it had never happened.

  Oz leaned over her. “Look at me.” After a moment, she did. “I get it. I do. But since we are both feeling the same way about this, isn’t that a good sign?”

  “I want it to be,” she said.

  “And I want you,” he concurred. “So it’s settled.”

  Ana smiled. “It is.”

  Like everything else in her life, Ana ruined that relationship by slowly forgetting the comfort he had given her and building the wall of solitude back up. She had ruined it further by sleeping with him years later, potentially destroying his marriage and family.

  And now, with Finn, she was repeating the same mistake. She knew she would not be able to forget about what happened with Jon. It had meant something to her in the same way the first time she was with Oz had meant something. That didn’t simply go away.

  But I have to try. I don’t want to be a person who can’t connect with anyone; someone who callously uses sex like it doesn’t matter. I can’t do this to myself anymore. I can’t do this to the people I care about anymore. I need to make a choice, live with it, and never look back.

  And if I’m not capable of choosing? If this is who I am destined to be for all time? Then it really is hopeless...

  Chapter Forty-Two: Finnegan

  Finn was still trying to register the situation. In the movies when someone had a gun held to their head, he would think, well that sucks, but I bet there are 100 ways they can get out of this situation. In real life, all he could focus on was the feeling of the cold barrel against his skin and how badly Alex’s hand was trembling.

  “Alex, come on,” Finn was saying, carefully. He was afraid to even move his head. He knew how a shotgun worked, and he didn’t want one unloaded in his skull. It was alarming how Alex’s hands would not stop shaking, and Finn couldn’t see how close his finger was to the trigger.

  “Did ya get all the food ya need?” Alex stuttered. He kept shifting from one foot to the other, and Finn felt the cold barrel of the shotgun correspondingly move left and right. His head ached from where Alex had smashed his skull.

  “Yes.”

  “Then let’s go. I’m going back to yer house with ya.”

  Finn started to ask questions but Alex interrupted him with a rough nudge of the gun. Finn imagined the round exploding and decided as little movement as possible would be best. He had yet to actually analyze what the hell was going on. He had known Alex all of his life, and nothing about this situation made any sense. Jon thought Alex was a bit twisted, but Finn knew the man was harmless. He would have thought he was dreaming if not for how real the steel of the old shotgun barrel felt pressed against his bloody, achy skull. I bet the crazy ass put rock salt in it so he has an excuse to shoot me with it. But that would still hurt like the devil.

  Finn was not confident about driving back in the dark. The streetlights on Androscoggin were on, but they lit up very little of the actual road. Compounding the darkness, all the shop lights that would have helped illuminate the dark street were off. He hardly knew how to drive the temperamental beast. And as if that weren’t enough, while he had been making a path to the food storage, the new storm had finally started, and with a vengeance.

  Once they were settled into the cab, Finn said, without turning his head, “Alex. Can you please take the gun off of me? I’m not going anywhere.” Where would I go anyway? I couldn’t outrun a shotgun in this snow.

  “Nah, I’m sorry, but I can’t trust ya, I can’t.” Alex was stammering again. What in the hell has happened to him?

  “Alex,” he said, using the calm, rational voice of his father. “I could not outrun you in this if I tried. If you don’t take this damn gun from my head, you may as well shoot me, and then yourself, because I am not driving this gigantic goddamn snow beast with a steel bomb about to go off. We can sit here and freeze to death.”

  Alex thought about it a moment and then lowered the gun, slowly. He was shivering so badly that the gun barrel was making a clickity-clack noise as it bumped up against the buttons on his coat. “I’ll take it away from yer head, but I ain’t putting it down,” he said, sounding more like a stubborn child than a middle-aged man.

  “Fine, just don’t point it at me,” Finn said, starting up the snowcat. Alex jumped next to him as it roared to life. Finn pictured the news after they found the two of them in pieces all over the cab from a rogue shotgun pellet. “Relax, outlaw!”

  “There’s only one outlaw in this rig, and it ain’t me.” Alex’s eyes burned holes in him as he maneuvered in reverse and then forward toward home.

  Finn thought again of Ana. I’ve kept Jon safe from the world, and I can do the same for her.

  He glanced to his right and wondered what he might need to do to keep Ana safe from this trembling madman…

  Chapter Forty-Three: Nicolas

  Nicolas never had any doubts that Jennifer would come through, but the longer they waited, the more he worried. The money had already exchanged hands, but he had felt good about trusting her–hoping his sense wasn’t wrong this time–and he had been waiting with Oz on the pier for over an hour, in the pitch black.

  At first she told them they would leave at first light in the morning. She called back later and said the fishing boat captain was too nervous about the prospect of being caught and thought night would be better.

  “Isn’t that less safe, even, than the already unsafe daytime trip we were planning to make?” Nicolas asked.

  She sighed. “These are his terms. I even offered him more of your money, and he wouldn’t budge.”

  So be it.

  Nicolas asked Oz if he was sure he wanted to come. You can stay here in the hotel Ozzy; I won’t think less of you, he said, and meant it. If captains who were raised in this weather wouldn’t run, then the risks were real. He felt bad enough dragging Oz to Maine with him, and away from Adrienne and the kids.

  Oz just snickered at that. “Our hotel doesn’t even have cable.”

  Nicolas and Oz exchanged no words standing on the pier, but they both had enough thoughts to keep themselves occupied. Nicolas watched his friend and thought, well now we really have been through everything.

  On the flight over, a specific memory continued dancing around the tip of his thoughts, until he finally allowed himself to explore it. It was Ana’s senior year of undergraduate studies at Tulane. Nicolas had discovered a letter, peeking out from under her textbooks. We are pleased to extend an invitation to the English program at Oxford University.

  “What is this?” Nicolas had asked. It was the first time she had hidden anything from him.

  “It’s nothing.” Dropped gaze, lowered voice.

  “Um, the fuck it’s nothing, Ana! You were accepted to motherfucking Oxford, and you say that its nothing?”

  “It’s nothing because I’m making it nothing.” Her eyes were distant; he hardly recognized her in that moment. He detected a sadness. But more so, a resolve. She’s forced herself to come to this decision. She wants to go, but she’s not going to do it. “I’ve already declined the offer. I’m staying at Tulane.”

  Nicolas stared at her then in frustrated amazement. “But…why?!”

  Ana sighed. She was s
till unwilling to meet his eyes, and Nicolas wanted to take her face in both hands and force her to look at him. “I don’t…want to leave you,” is what she said. But what Nicolas heard beneath her words was: I don’t want to leave you alone.

  “That is the most ridiculous fucking thing I’ve ever heard you say, Anasofiya Aleksandrovna. And you’ve said a lot of ridiculous shit.” Perhaps if he belittled her feelings, she would reconsider. She’s doing this shit for me, and not because she can’t bear to lose me. It’s because she knows I can’t bear to lose her.

  “Seriously, Ana. All fuckery aside. You need to do this.” You need to do this, but a part of me is overflowing with gladness and relief that you aren’t. And I hate myself for it.

  But she had simply shrugged. “I’ve made my decision. Can we talk about something else?”

  Nicolas had dropped the issue then, and it had never come up again. But that didn’t mean he forgot about it. Nor did he forget why she had done it, or the knowledge that his indignant persuasion was weak at best. I could have made her go. I had the power to make her go, and I chose to pretend she couldn’t be swayed.

  He rarely allowed his conclusions to travel down a philosophical path, but part of him wondered now if somehow all of these decisions had brought them to where they were here, and now. How every decision they made affected every subsequent one; how one choice can start a spiral of events that determine the course of your entire life.

  Please be okay, Ana. I know I’m a selfish fuck, but goddamnit I need you. You are the only one who has ever loved me. Protecting and loving you has been the only thing that has given my sorry ass a purpose.

  Nicolas forced himself to keep his mind away from thought of what they might find when they reached Summer Island. Since the moment he decided to come, he had only allowed his thoughts of Ana to play on the surface, where it was safer. Whatever they faced, there would be no formal preparation for Nicolas. He would simply face it, with Oz by his side.

  We’re coming, Muffins.

  “Peacock,” They heard a low voice say from behind. Oz sniggered.

  “Brown booby,” Nicolas replied with a sigh, and this time Oz outright laughed. “Yes, we’re both twelve, now where do we go?”

  The captain led them to a small cabin cruiser at the end of one of the dock arms. The boat was smaller than Nicolas had expected, and his stomach dropped. Based on Oz’s expression, he felt the same. He wondered if this guy really knew what he was doing. Perhaps there’s a reason he was so willing to accept cash for suicide.

  “He might not be all here,” Oz said quietly, so only the two of them could hear. Nicolas pursed his lips, wanting to disagree but not sure he had grounds to defend his opinion just yet.

  The ship’s lights were turned off. The closest lighting was about fifty feet away, and penetrated little more than 20 feet effectively. Between the insufficient lighting, and the increasing snowfall, they could see only a vague outline of their ship.

  Oz grabbed onto the rope and pulled himself up first, Nicolas hoisting himself up after. The captain said that they should both go down into the cabin and relax, because the ride would be rough. Nicolas asked how long the crossing would take, but apparently his generous payment didn’t include the answering of questions. There was a low rumble, followed by harsh vibrations that rattled the entire cabin. Then, a sudden jerk, where upon Oz nearly lost his footing, and they were off. Nicolas peered hopefully out the tiny, murky window into the darkness, but was unable to see anything at all.

  “Ana once told me it’s about an hour from the island to the mainland, and since this is the Super Secret Spy Ferry, I’d guess we can expect it to be a little longer than that,” Nicolas speculated. Oz was gripping the small rusted pole near the bench he was sitting on, with his face touching his knees.

  “Goody,” Oz grimaced.

  Nicolas rolled onto the bench across from Oz. The hard metal was poking his back in cruel synchrony with the strong vibrations of the ship. All internal power was off, so not only were there no lights, but also no heat, and Oz was curled up in a ball, shivering dramatically. Nicolas rolled his eyes with a stifled laugh, then rummaged through a nearby drawer looking for matches, or anything that might give them some light. Finding nothing, he gave up after a few moments. He heard Oz mutter something like: not so prepared after all.

  What they were doing was reckless, but Nicolas wasn’t bothered by it. In the grand scheme of things, paying for a small fishing boat to cross the stormy Casco Bay was pretty low on the scale of scandalous things Nicolas had found himself involved in over the years. Had the reason not been serious, he would have been up on the deck enjoying the thrill of it!

  But the reason was serious, and as Nicolas was no good at dealing with serious things, he decided to lighten the mood.

  “Ozzy?” He asked, as they both lay on the flat, uncomfortable benches.

  “Yes?” The annoyance in his friend’s voice was amusing.

  “Hypothetically speaking, if Captain Jack up there came down and said to brace ourselves for imminent death, would your first instinct be to have sex with me, just once, before we died? Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

  The pillow whistled across the room and smacked him in the face. Nicolas smiled, satisfied. If he was going to die, this was the man he wanted to die beside.

  Chapter Forty-Four: Alex

  They were officially headed to the St. Andrews house, and Alex still had no plan.

  It had been easy enough to decide to pull out the gun. Granted, one he barely knew how to use, but that was beside the point. And it was obvious he needed to go to the house with Finn and get to the bottom of what was going on. But what would he do once he got there?

  Are you really going to shoot someone? What if you get there and everything is fine? Or, what if you get there and everything is not fine, and you have to take action? Are you going to take them both down? What precisely are you going to do now that you’ve gone rogue? You put these plans in motion, and now there is no going back. As soon as you put the gun to the head of Finn St. Andrews, a man you’ve known twenty-seven years, there was no pretending this didn’t happen. The wheels are moving forward, whether you’re ready or not.

  His internal dialogue was obnoxious-–on a positive note, at least it was not in his father’s voice-–and it seemed to continue no matter what he did to stop it. He tried responding to it, ignoring it, thinking about something else. Nothing helped. His mind continued to throw questions at him…challenging him, making him doubt his decision to get involved. Too late now. Time to man up. But what did that mean?

  Finn wasn’t talking, but he wasn’t trying to run or get in the way either. At first Alex was afraid he might, but when he saw Finn’s face as the young man started to wake up–first the shock, the anger, shock again and finally, worst of all, the betrayal–he knew Finn would not be a danger to him, for now. It would be a different story once they arrived at the St. Andrews house. Given the intensity of the storm outside, Alex wondered if they would even make it.

  When they did, they would catch Jon by surprise. Even if Finn managed to signal to him, by the time he did it would be too late. There was no cell service and the land-lines were all down. Alex vaguely recalled Finn mentioning their house radio stopped working last year, and knowing how flaky the boy could be, he doubted if Finn had bothered to get it fixed. You better hope he hasn’t.

  The silence in the cab was almost worse than the debates raging untamed in his head. He had killed any chance of conversation in putting a gun to his neighbor’s head. Oh well, he wasn’t ready to ask Finn questions or start talking about what he thought might be going down back at his house. Even if he came out and asked Finn if they were keeping Ana Deschanel as a sex slave, torturing her and making her bend to their every whim, would he admit it? Alex chuckled at the thought of how that conversation might go.

  “Nothing funny about this shit, Alex,” Finn observed beside him.

  “Was just thinking about
something else,” he said, apologetically. He mentally punched himself. Don’t be weak Wexie Woo, he’s the psycho here! His father’s voice was back.

  “Well, better start thinking about what you’re gonna do when I get this thing home, because I am not keen on being cornered without an explanation,” Finn said.

  “Oh, you’ll get your explanation,” Alex said with a sinister laugh. Try to sound scarier, and confident, he told himself. “You and Jon both.”

  Finn laughed. Christ almighty. He can see right through me. I hate him. “Laugh now, while you can,” Alex threatened.

  Finn kept laughing, shaking his head. “I wish you could see yourself, Alex. I really do.”

  Alex’s face was scalding. He wanted to hit Finn, but he was afraid he might swerve the vehicle, and any wrong move could be a disaster. “Like I said…” he said, and left the rest to interpretation. He didn’t want Finn to see how angry he was at not being taken seriously. I have a gun, for the love of god!

  Yes, you do have a gun. Once you know Finn isn’t going to kill you both in a freak accident, you can use it to your advantage. And you have the element of surprise. Jon doesn’t know you’re coming, and walking in with a gun to his brother’s head won’t leave him with a lot of options to defend himself. Let Finn laugh now, because the feeling of satisfaction when he sees what a tough guy you are will be that much greater.

  “Can this thing go any faster?” Alex asked, making his voice sound tougher than he felt.

  “Depends on if you want to get there in one piece or not.” Finn was straining to see. “As it is, we might need to stop somewhere until this storm passes.”

  “We’ll stop if I say we stop,” Alex commanded, but internally he conceded that Finn was likely right. They would need to seek refuge soon if they did not want to end up stranded inside the snowcat, freezing to death.