Eye of the Sh*t Storm

by Jackson Ford

  Leo grins, juice running down his chin. “Thank you,” he tells Juan.

  I raise a hand. “Seconded. And thirded.”

  Annie and Nic nod their thanks – Nic might have been dubious, but his sandwich doesn’t last much longer than mine. By now, most of the people around the fire have forgotten about us, going back to their own conversations. Given everything we’ve been through tonight, it’s cool to be around people who don’t want to murder us – who, in fact, don’t give the tiniest shit about who we are, and what we’re doing.

  As I lick the last drop of juice off my lip, Leo points. “What’s in there?”

  We follow his finger. He’s pointing to a gap in the storm drain’s sloping side, just visible through the mess of scaffolding. The gap looks like an entrance to a passage, cut into the concrete. Two people are vanishing into it as we look, a couple of teenagers, one laughing at something the other said.

  “Oh.” Alvin takes a swig of water from a bottle, wipes his mouth. “Sewers.”

  “What, they come out here?” Nic says.

  Alvin shrugs. “Sure. Convenient spot for crews to access, right under the interchange. Or it was, anyway. Beats going down a manhole.”

  Another group emerges out of the gap – this time with two kids in tow. “What are you guys doing in there?” Annie says.

  “Doing?” Alvin cocks his head. “Man, relax, people just posting up in there, you know? Sleeping bags or whatever.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” I say. “You have people sleeping in the sewers?”

  “Look around you, man. Not a lot of space left here.” He waves a hand at the scaffolded mess of the interchange.

  “The sewer tunnels are pretty wide here,” Grant says. “And there’re plenty of catwalks and storage areas you can find a spot on.”

  “What about the smell?” Nic asks.

  It’s Lucille who replies. “You get used to it. I was in there, for a while.”

  “It’s good we can get in there,” says Alvin thoughtfully. “Lotta people here who can’t climb up on the scaffolding. Or don’t want to.”

  “Hey.” Annie taps Lucille on the shoulder. “There a bathroom round here?”

  “Nah. We just sort of find a free bit of ground and squat.”

  Annie stares at her.

  Lucille guffaws again. “I’m messing with you. We got the sewers, honey! It doesn’t smell great, but there are some spots in the tunnels with privacy. Even got toilet paper, and some bottled water to wash your hands. Come on, I’ll show you.”

  “Can I come?” Leo says, getting unsteadily to his feet. “I wanna see.”

  “No.” Annie gets to her feet, not looking at him.

  There’s something about the way she says it, a vicious edge to her tone. Fucking amazing. After everything we’ve been through, she still thinks Leo is the Antichrist.

  But this time, she surprises me. She makes herself look at the kid, take a deep breath.

  “It’s more of a, uh… a ladies thing,” she tells him.

  “But I wanna see the sewers!”

  “Ah, it’ll be fine,” Lucille tells Annie. “I’ll watch him while you do your business. Give him the grand tour.”

  Annie tilts her head, looking at Leo. It’s far too serious a look for something as everyday as a trip to the bathroom – even if that trip happens to take you into the sewers themselves.

  “You know what?” she says. “Sure, what the hell. Come on.”

  “Yes!”

  I should probably use the bathroom too. But then I discover that I have no desire to stand up, or possibly move from this position ever again.

  I watch them go, my mind returning to the build-up of water behind the collapsed bridge. Some of it was draining through, I’m sure it was – that would relieve the pressure. Maybe there won’t be a flash flood – or if there’s going to be, the people in charge of LA’s roads will actually have enough warning to get off their asses and do something before it happens. Even if they don’t, it’s hard to believe these folks wouldn’t get some warning. God knows what the flood will do to the camp itself, but at least they’ll be able to get out in time…

  It takes me a few seconds to realise that I’m alone with Nic.

  FORTY

  Teagan

  He glances at me, then looks away, taking a swig from a bottle of water someone must have given him, staring into the distance. The conversation has drifted away from us, Alvin and Grant moving over to hover by the fire with Juan.

  I clear my throat. “I’m glad we got to eat.”

  He nods. “Mm.”

  “That was probably the best steak of my life. Better than the one we had in Pasadena – you remember that one time?”

  “I do, yeah.” He puts the water bottle down carefully, still not looking at me.

  I close my eyes, irritated with myself. We’ve got a long way to go before we get Leo to safety, there’s already plenty of bad blood between Nic and me and trying to fake being friendly isn’t going to help. I should shut up, get some water of my own, rest and recharge.

  That’s what I want to do. What happens instead is me leaning forward and saying, “Look, about earlier… I really didn’t mean it in a racial way. I’m super-sorry. I was just…”

  “Just what?” He picks up the water bottle, toys with it.

  Well, no point stopping now. “I was angry. I wasn’t thinking straight. And if you’d told me that you felt this way…”

  “Told you?” Now he looks at me, anger flashing in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have to tell you not to treat people like that. Talk to them about fuckin’ laws.”

  “… I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not a spokesman for black people, Teagan. It’s not my job to explain race to you, or anybody. That shit gets exhausting real quick.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you?”

  Even I am smart enough not to answer that question. Problem is, I have no idea what to say next. It feels like every response is a hand grenade.

  “Look, man,” Nic says, after a long moment. There’s no more anger in his voice – just weariness. “I know you’re not racist. I get that. I’ve seen how you treat other people. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t capable of racism, you know what I mean? Unconsciously. The background you come from, the privileges, there are certain things you just take for granted.

  “I never had that. When I was growing up… I didn’t grow up in the hood or anything, but shit, even now, the law doesn’t treat me fairly. Me, and everybody like me.”

  “I totally get that. I’ll be better. I promise.”

  It sounds lame, even as I say it. And on the heels of it comes a flash of anger. Not at what Nic said, which is right on the money. It’s about what he did at Dodger, the way he intervened with Africa – how he got those National guardsmen killed when Leo went nuts. However dumb I was afterwards, how can he not understand that he screwed up?

  Of course, I don’t have a clue how to voice this without coming off as a colossal asshole.

  Fortunately, I don’t have to, because right then Nic says, “I messed up, didn’t I?”

  “Uh… OK?”

  “I didn’t mean for all that shit to go bad. At Dodger. Africa was… I just thought that under the circumstances, I was doing the right…”

  He trails off, drops his head, as if searching for the words.

  “I didn’t mean for anybody to get hurt.”

  The words come very slowly, carefully, as if one wrong move will break them. “Those people… if I hadn’t… If I hadn’t gotten up in Africa’s face, they might be—”

  “No.” I’m surprised at how firm my voice is. “Listen to me. That is not your fault. I don’t even think it’s Africa’s. No one knew Leo could call down fucking lightning bolts like that – not even him. That was a bad situation, and yeah, people died—”

  Saying it like that, just stating it, makes my voice catch. Up until now, I hadn’t really had a chance to think about those dead National Gu
ard soldiers. Now… it’s like I’ve ripped the scab off a fresh wound.

  I swallow. “People died, but it was an accident. That’s all.”

  “Does Leo know?” he says, his voice dull.

  “I don’t think so. He passed out pretty much straight away.”

  “Should we tell him?”

  It’s a long time before I answer. “I don’t know.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  Because think about it: how on earth are you supposed to put that on a child? Especially when you’ve only known him a short time? How can you possibly have that conversation?

  Nic clears his throat. “Just… just watch what you’re saying sometimes, OK? With the race stuff, I mean.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  He nods, still not looking completely satisfied. And the silence that falls is still hella uncomfortable.

  Nic makes a strange sound – a kind of bemused hmf. When I look across, he’s shaking his head.

  “What?”

  “Just a weird fucking night man. The race thing is probably the only part of it I actually do understand.”

  I don’t really know what to say to that, so I settle for an answering hmf.

  “Yo, what kind of fucking name is Zigzag Man, anyway?” he says.

  “I dunno. Leo never really said how he got it.”

  “We should ask him again.”

  “Honestly, at this point, I don’t actually care. I just want this done with.”

  “Got that right.”

  We’re both trying to sound light, just two friends having a chat by the fire. But there’s an undercurrent to our words. A worry. No: a fear.

  Fear that the Zigzag Man, stupid name or not, might come back.

  “What did he make you see?” Nic asks.

  The question catches me off guard. “Huh?”

  “When he got in your head.” He looks away. “I mean, if it’s not too personal. You don’t have to tell me if—”

  “No, it’s OK.” And it is. Weirdly, it’s kind of a relief. I’m not going to tell Nic about Jonas – that’s mine, something I want to keep very close. But Carlos and the fire have been preying on my mind since I saw them. That’s an experience I thought I’d dealt with, and it wasn’t a lot of fun to have to relive it. Nic knows about what happened, and maybe talking about it will take away its power.

  When I tell him, he grimaces. “Fuuuuuck.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Jesus, I’m sorry, Teags. He just pulled that out of you? How?”

  I shrug. “Like I said before man, we don’t have a WhatsApp group. I don’t know how this dude does his voodoo.” I stop, surprised at my use of Annie’s term.

  “Well, still. Sorry you had to go through that again.”

  “How about you?” I say.

  It’s a long time before he answers – long enough that I start to wonder if it’s me who should be apologising for asking personal questions. But then he says, “I saw us.”

  “What you mean?”

  “That’s why I was so surprised you saw Carlos. Because that’s a bad thing, right? And what I saw wasn’t bad at all. It was just…”

  “You guys doing good?” Grant says, over from the other side of the fire. I didn’t even see him come by.

  Nic flashes him a thumbs-up. After Grant goes back to his conversation, Nic says, “You remember the time we went to that beach bar up in Malibu?”

  “The whitest bar on earth?” I smile, appreciating the irony.

  “That one. It was a good day though, right? Good food.”

  “Please, those tacos were meh. But I did have fun though.”

  “So did I. And that was the point. I didn’t want to leave this… dream or vision or whatever that the Zigzag dickhead made me see. I wanted to stay there for ever.” He pauses, chuckles. “In the whitest place on earth.”

  “Yeah.”

  He side-eyes me. “That’s it?”

  “What do you mean, that’s it?”

  “No comeback?”

  “What do you want me to say? It’s a nice memory.”

  “Nothing. Never mind.”

  “I’m not always going to make a dumb comment. I know I do it a lot, but I’m trying to take things more seriously, and…”

  And then it all spills out of me, the words almost tripping over one another. “I’m trying to be better. OK? And… and make the right decisions, like everybody tells me to. But half the time I have no fucking clue what I’m doing, and it always feels like there’s no correct answer, for any of this. Every single thing I do, there’s going to be somebody who gets pissed off, or some fucking thing that’s going to go wrong.”

  My voice cracks, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. Christ, I’m tired. It’s a feeling that drills right down into my bones.

  “I’m making myself think. That was what Reggie, and Annie, and everybody always told me to do. Stop just reacting, and actually think before you do shit. But it doesn’t help. It just makes things worse.”

  “Welcome to being an adult.”

  The silence this time isn’t comfortable… but it’s not uncomfortable either. It’s like it gets out the way, the space filled by the crackle of the fire and the soft murmur of conversations, the distant hiss and burble of the river.

  “You just…” He thinks for a moment. “You gotta just fall back on logic. A, then B, then C. No matter what, there’s always an answer that makes sense.”

  “OK, Spock.” I wipe my face.

  He rolls his eyes. “Well, so much for no comebacks.”

  “Answer me this then. What should I have done when I found Leo? What was the logical choice?”

  “I—”

  “I’ll tell you. Logically, I should have handed him over to Tanner.”

  I force him to meet my eyes. I want him to understand. “But you know what? That wasn’t the right decision. That kid doesn’t deserve to get locked up in a facility, like I was. He doesn’t deserve any of it.”

  “I get that,” he says. “But it didn’t have to be that simple. We could have found a way to hand him over and keep him safe. Tanner’s not above the law, and—”

  A frustrated groan hisses out of me. “You still don’t get it.”

  “Oh, come on. If—”

  “No.” I talk over him. The tears are on my face now, warm against my skin. “You’re so convinced you’re right that you don’t even consider the possibility that you might not be. You say you’re sorry for what went down at the stadium, but I don’t think you really get it. It’s like after the quake, when you told me I was selfish for not helping out.”

  “Teags, I apologised for that.”

  “You’re sorry for how you said it, sure. But deep down, you still think you were right. Don’t you?”

  He’s about to protest – his leg muscles actually tense, like he’s about to leap to his feet. But then he subsides, looking away. Hands knotted in his lap.

  Lucille returns, Leo at her side. Annie must still be doing her thing. Nic flashes him a questioning thumbs-up, which Leo returns with a grin. “I saw a ’gator!” he says.

  “Lizard.” Lucille rolls her eyes.

  “But it was a really big one.”

  She and Leo shuffle over to the fire, both of them arguing good-naturedly. Nic stares at Leo’s back, his jaw clenched.

  He sighs, tilting his head back and massaging his neck. As he does so, the light from the fire catches his face, highlighting it.

  I’m not big on nostalgia. There’s a lot I miss about my life pre-Tanner – I miss riding with my sister, talking with my brother, eating my dad’s cooking and getting hugged by my mom – but I don’t spend all my time missing it, if that makes sense. It could never last, and I think I knew that, even before the government scooped me up. Those memories are like keepsakes on a shelf. I can take them down whenever I want them, turn them over in my hands, put them back knowing they’ll always be there.

  What I do miss – and I didn’t re
ally understand it, not until this second – is Nic.

  I miss getting dinner with him, both of us diving headlong into whatever weird Cambodian or Peruvian or Japanese dish gets put in front of us. I miss his laugh. I miss how he looked at me, before he knew about my ability: the contentment in his eyes, because I was his friend and he was mine.

  And I want us to be more than that. I always have.

  The Zigzag Man keeps making me see Jonas Schmidt. I don’t fully understand how his ability works – it’s as if he reaches into your mind, and makes you envision your innermost thoughts. Let’s not sugar-coat this: clearly, I have major feelings for Jonas. But I have major feelings for Nic, too. And when you get down to it, really get down to it, he’s the one I want to spend my life with.

  There’s so much that’s happened between us. It’s piled up and piled up, stacking a mile high between us, all of the shit we’ve been through and all of the shit we’ve said to each other. We have both acted like douche-nozzles.

  Well, no more. I’m tearing that fucking pile down. I’m setting it on fire, then bulldozing it into the Pacific. As a rapper wiser than me once said, you don’t try to find the needle in a haystack; you burn the haystack down and pick the needle from the ground.

  And shit, wasn’t that whole song about leaving the past behind? Seth Sentry. Langolier’s Banquet.

  I never played it for Nic. Maybe I should. I think he’d understand.

  “Let’s start over,” I tell him.

  “Huh?”

  “When this is done.” I nod to Leo. “When he’s… when he gets to where he needs to go. Let’s just start from scratch.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “Dinner. You and me. Somewhere with really good food – like, really good food.”

  “Is there even anywhere left in LA for—?”

  “And we take everything that’s happened with us, and we just pretend it never did. Like we’re meeting for the first time.”

  “How would we even do that?” he says, laughing.