by Matthew Fish
“Here,” Noah says as he tosses me a pair of glasses. “People think that these things detect Unstables, well I suppose it does—but when it shows someone as an Unstable it is really picking up the C-Alysium in their system. It might come in handy… test it out now if you like. Then again… I already admitted I haven’t been on my pills in years.”
I nod as I place the glasses in my front pocket. Noah then hands me a metal case.
“Just in case no one on the inside comes through… get this metal case to anyone who will listen,” Noah adds. “Keep it safe, do not open it until you know that there is no chance of you losing any of the info inside—or when you are able to get it to someone.”
“Why me…?” I ask. I know for certainty that I am no one special. None of this makes any sense.
“You were lost and you wanted to make a difference, you wanted to help people—I needed someone else on the outside just in case.”
“I didn’t want this much responsibility.”
“You can handle it,” Noah says as he suddenly looks down to my pocket. “What the hell…”
I look down and see that the red light on my phone is slowly flashing. I pull it from my pocket and look at it, deeply confused. I didn’t hit the button… that could only mean that…. “Hunters?”
“Fuck,” Noah says as he grabs my phone and looks at it. “Has anyone messed with your phone?”
I think for a second and I remember my date, Michelle, messing with it for a brief moment. “I had a C Shape date—she took a pocket knife and did something with the release.”
Noah smashes the phone against the concrete floor,” and shakes his head. “They didn’t trust you—they had her bug your phone… at some point the Sniffers have been listening in.”
“We need to get out of here,” I say, panicked.
“We have about twenty-five minutes. “ Noah says as he rummages through a metal chest. “I did the research… plus it is what I used to scare of my last Sitter. One of the perks of living rural…”
Noah hands me a handgun and two boxes of bullets.
“I’m not a hunter… I don’t know how to use this.”
“It’s pretty straightforward—you point at what you want to kill and you pull the trigger… it’s not rocket science.”
Noah places a second handgun into his pocket. “Give me your car keys… it will throw them off, I’ll get as far away as I can and ditch the car and steal another one.”
“What about me and Cherie?” I ask, as I grow more panicked. I feel like I’m about to hyperventilate.
Noah tosses me a set of keys. “In the garage there is a car that I have not registered—they don’t know it even exists. Get in, tell the GPS to take you ‘home’ and tell it to avoid all major roads.”
“What is home?”
“We don’t have time to be down here talking,” Noah says as he quickly begins to ascend the ladder. “My parents had a place in rural Missouri, like a vacation home. Every Sunday I go down and stock it up with supplies—it’s my second hideout.”
Noah bursts through the door, scaring Cherie and nearly knocking her to the ground. “Fuck, sorry—“
“I I shove the handgun into my pocket, cram the metal case beneath my arm, and take Cherie’s suitcase in one hand and reach for her hand with the other. We start rushing up the stairs.
“Where are we going?” Cherie asks as she is being pulled along.
“We have to leave, it’s not safe for you here,” I say as I round the top of the stairs and begin to head down the hall. I look back and see Noah at the front door. He is talking to his mother.
“I need you to come with me,” Noah says as he attempts to get her up from her chair. “The Hunters are coming for me.”
“Do you need help?” I ask as I stop.
“Just go, remember anyone who will listen…” Noah adds. I look back once more and see that she is refusing to leave. I watch as he bends down and kisses his mother on the forehead.
I enter the garage. I pause for a moment and curiously look at the vehicle—I have not seen one of these in forever… back in the day these were top of the line vehicles. The slim, red, intimidating vehicle sits there like a beast ready to be released from its cage. I open the back seat and place Cherie’s suitcase into the back. I open up her door for her and she crawls into the red Mazda XIII. I fumble with the keys and get the car running. “Open garage door,” I say and the door quickly begins to open.
“GPS take me home—avoid all interstates and highways.”
“Understood,” A female voice answers back, I begin to drive in the direction of transparent display on my windshield. I see a glimpse of my old car heading in the opposite direction. I hope that Noah knows what he is doing. I speed off and into the country.
As I reach a good distance, I lower my speed. I do not want to seem overly suspicious. Then again, on these old roads I have not seen another car since I’ve left Noah’s residence. The road ahead is difficult to discern at times, high grass has grown through large cracks. In some places I have to dodge entire pieces of the road that has been washed away altogether.
“I’m scared…” Cherie whispers. I realize that she hasn’t said anything for nearly an hour. I hope that she is not having any anxiety.
“I know,” I say as reach an open hand and place it on her knee. She places her small hand inside of mine and I squeeze it tightly. “We are going to be alright.”
“Are we going on a trip?”
“Yeah,” I say as I nod. “Kind of like an adventure.”
“You look worried…”
Before I can answer, the dashboard comes to life and displays an emergency broadcast. A man is standing in front of Noah’s house. He begins to speak.
“A city-wide manhunt is underway for a Chicago Sitter for failing to report an Aggro—The Aggro named Noah Williams, 29, was found armed with a handgun and the Sitter’s badge. Hunters did manage to take him down… however, they were unable to stop the Aggro from killing his wheelchair bound mother, fortunately though, no one else was injured. The Sitter, Ethan Chase…”
“That’s you…” Cherie says as she points to the image on the dashboard.
“…had fled the scene with and is believed to have abducted his other Unstable, a 26 year old female named Claire Derry. A picture of Cherie comes up and then the transmission ends.”
I pull the car over to the side of the road and into the tall grass. I punch the steering wheel.
Having no wheel Cherie holds her hand out and punches it.
I rest my head against the steering wheel. I do not know what to do. This is way beyond anything I am capable of. Cherie rests her head beside mine. Why did Noah have to get me involved in this? It didn’t make any sense. He thought he knew what he was doing recruiting me, for whatever purpose it was—but in the end it cost him his life, and probably his cause. Who am I supposed to give this information to? The media will not listen—they work for C-Shapes. Surely Noah must have known that, for all his realizations and plans—in the end I fear they are going to amount to nothing. So here I am… me and my Unstable miles away from everything we both know. I can never return home. Although I take a bit of comfort in knowing that they probably expect me to try—after all, no one feels safe outside of the big cities these days. So for now I know we are somewhat safe. That makes me feel slightly better… but not much, not really.
“Are you in trouble because of me?” Cherie asks as she rests her head upon mine.
“No,” I say as I reach over and place my hand on her knee. “We just… can’t go home. I’m sorry. We have to head it some remote place in Missouri. At least there we’ll be safe. This is more of Noah getting us into trouble—although he didn’t mean it.”
“Is Noah gone?”
“Yeah…” I say as I continue to keep my head buried into the steering wheel.
“Are you sad…?”
“I am,” I say as I feel an overwhelming sense of frustration and anger mixed in wi
th that copious amount of sadness. They didn’t have to kill his mother—I suppose he really was onto something. I begin to feel bad for doubting him. I still want to doubt him. I just don’t understand how he could know so much—he wasn’t a researcher… I read his things back in the day; it was all public interest pieces… none of that makes any sense. However, it must have made sense to someone. Some of it must have been true.
“I am too,” Cherie adds as she places her arm around me. “I know he was your friend.”
“We will be alright though,” I say as I turn my head and look to Cherie… or should I call her Claire… I suppose I should wait until she accepts her old name—if she ever does. “I’ll take care of you.”
“You’re my Sitter?”
“Not anymore…” I say as I continue to look into those beautiful eyes. “I guess I’m your caretaker.”
“I’m your caretaker.”
“Fair enough…” I say as I smile.
“Fair enough…”
I take a deep breath in. I have to be strong—at least for her sake. I wait a few minutes as I look at the map at the corner of my windshield. It looks like it will take be an estimated 28 driving hours to get there… if not longer on these roads. We might have to stop somewhere for two days. The idea of not knowing where I am going to sleep fills me with a bit of anxiety. I’ve never slept anywhere other than my own bed. I’m sure it is the same for Cherie.
“I’m thirsty…” Cherie interrupts my train of thought. It does not matter for it was not really headed anywhere important.
I begin to search the car. I open up the glove box and find a large silver envelope. I open it up and find a stack of thousand dollar bills and some few rolls of two and five dollar coins. “Paper and coin currency…” I say aloud. I haven’t dealt with this since back in my early gas station days… I imagine it still spends the same, especially out in the remote towns. I find a small emergency blanket, a flashlight, and a box full of emergency meals. However, I do not find any water. “Shit…”
I check the center compartment. A large bottle of water rests in a round compartment. It is already cool. I pull it up from its confines and hand it to Cherie. As she unscrews the cap another bottle pops up in its place, scaring her and causing her to drop the cap onto the floor. She then starts to laugh.
“I forgot all these pre-V-Day vehicles were pretty nice…”
“What is V-Day?” Cherie asks.
“That’s what we call the day that people changed…”
“That’s when I became different?”
“Yeah… a lot of people did that day,” I say as I look once more at the map.
“We have to go back though…” Cherie says with a bit of anxiety in her soft tone. “I’m sorry, I forgot my Calm.”
“You don’t have to take that anymore,” I say as I turn to face her. In the bright summer light her hair blows against the soft flow of the air conditioner. She constantly struggles to keep it out of her hazel eyes; every now and then they catch the sunlight and glow brilliantly. She is smiling… despite everything that is going on she is smiling. Her cheeks are always a natural slight red. Her nose reminds me of a small button—she has such a cute, but at the same time beautifully innocent face. I suppose, now that I no longer look at her as a threat in the least, I can see what Katharine warned me about. She seems fragile, but I know that there is strength there—after all… my cheek still stings from this morning.
“Why are you staring at me like that?”
“I could never tell you when I was your Sitter that you were beautiful,” I say, being flat out honest. I figured, what is there left to lose at this point?
She looks away and laughs. “I always thought you were handsome.”
“Yeah…?”
“I had forgiven you before I made you kiss me.”
“You’re a sneaky one,” I say as I laugh. “I still feel terrible about what happened.”
“You had a job to do, and you did it,” Cherie says as she leans over and kisses me on the cheek. “I don’t really hate your job—it brought you to me. I’m sorry that you don’t have it anymore, I’m sure it meant a lot to you.”
“I have more important things in my life now,” I say, meaning both her and the impossible task that Noah has left me with. “Let’s check to see what we have in the trunk…”
“I hope it’s my painting…”
I let out a sad sigh. I think about all that artwork just left in the apartment. It seems like such a waste. I get out of the car and Cherie follows behind me. Even when no one is around she still seems comfortable to be my shadow. I slide my key against a silver bar and the trunk opens up. Inside we find a backpack, couple of hiking poles, a small hand axe, a tent, some basic camping gear, more meals in boxes, and the large container that supplies us with water. “At least we are well prepared…”
“No painting though, but good stuff.”
“Sorry.”
“When will we be able to go home?”
“I don’t think that we will be ever going home…”
“So everything I… everything I left I won’t see again?”
“I’m sorry, Cherie,” I say as I nod and place an arm around her. “This is what we have now. I promise though, we’ll find a place and we’ll get things for it that you like—it’ll feel like home, it will just be different.”
Cherie wraps her arm around me and holds onto me tightly. “Just be different…”
Part 2: Exile
10. The Trip
As we stop for lunch I watch as hundreds of small solar panels rotate to face the sun from twin black stripes along hood of the car. I’m glad that we aren’t reliant on gas… with us still close to Chicago a trip to gas station would be a risky undertaking.
I munch on a granola bar and some beef jerky with Cherie as we sit in the car. The high grass around us acts as a shield—although I still have not seen a single car on the road. Birds soar overhead and land alongside the road. Cherie delights in watching the sparrows hop around before taking flight once more.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” I answer as I crumple up the metallic wrapper and place it in a small waste bin on my driver’s side door.
“Why are people afraid of the ones that are different?”
“Hasn’t anyone told you?” I ask, as I look away uncomfortably out the window.
“I don’t know…” Cherie says as she shrugs her shoulders and places a hand upon my shoulder to get my attention. “I feel like sometimes I don’t remember things right. Today though, I feel a little clearer.”
“It was the pill,” I say as I nod. I didn’t know that the effects would release their hold so quickly. I suppose that was one of the reasons that Katharine said that I might have to force Cherie to start taking her pill once more. Perhaps a day off of it provides enough clarity to realize that it is doing something to your head… something that you don’t like.
“Are you going to tell me?” Cherie asks as she squeezes my shoulder gently. “I want you to tell me things—I know that when you were my Sitter you couldn’t. You’re not my Sitter though so you can tell me things.”
I nod as I pause and attempt to come up with the right answer. I am done with going along with lies, or coming up with inaccuracies. The only way that I can really make things right with her is to be honest from this point on, even if it doesn’t feel right. “Well… The day that a lot of people turned… different…”
“V-Day,” Cherie adds.
“That’s right,” I say as I turn to face her. I find it much easier to do so when I am delivering the truth. “Not everyone ended up different in the same way. Some people, they can’t remember their past.”
“I remember pieces sometimes…” Cherie says as she looks saddened for a moment. “Sorry, go on.”
“Other people went into a state where they just sit there and stare off blankly all the time, and they don’t do anything—they don’t feed themselves or anything.
Others can’t control their actions at times and become a danger to themselves or others, and there is this one other group that is very destructive—so they have to be kept in places that they can be taken care of so they don’t hurt themselves. A lot of them, that first few months, hurt themselves and hurt others. It was really bad. Well… not too long after all these groups appeared, some of them… at random times started becoming very angry, and violent. So angry that they became very dangerous and strong, that they do not even know what they are doing—and they don’t feel pain so they continue just attacking people. They turn that way and they could be your best friend, and they wouldn’t remember you. They would only want to kill you.”
“Which one of those am I?”
“You’re in a different group. They call people like you Mirrors. You are the most like everyone else—just sometimes you get stuck in the loops and mimic actions. Sometimes you have anxiety problems. You’re actually part of a rare group.”
“I can be like the angry people though… the ones that get so angry that they can’t calm down. That is why people were always afraid of me, right?”
“It’s a small possibility, the pill actually made it worse… but, yeah that was why people were often afraid.” I say as I wipe away a single tear that escapes her eyes with my fingertips.
“I can still be like that though… one day?” Cherie asks with a very worried tone in her voice.
“You could,” I answer honestly.
“How can you be with me?” She asks quietly as she looks down to the ground sadly. “I don’t ever want to forget who you are… I don’t ever want to hurt you.”
“I would rather be with you, and face the possibility of that happening, than not have you in my life at all,” I say as I place my arms around her.
“I don’t feel very good,” Cherie whispers as she exits the car and begins to throw up.
I quickly get out and place a hand on her back. I brush her hair away from her face. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah…” She manages after a few short coughs.
