Deserted Lands (Book 2): Straight Into Darkness

by Robert L. Slater

  WHEN LIZZIE CALLED, NEV VOLUNTEERED to host the Church of the Breakfast Club gathering at her and Zach’s place. It seemed a lot easier to Lizzie than trying to clean up her own smaller apartment. And most of all it seemed like another possibility of a thaw between her and Nev.

  Zach placed a larger serving tray on the table filled with fluffy pancakes and Belgian waffles. “Sausage and bacon will be out in a few.”

  Lizzie let each bite rest on her tongue before chewing and swallowing. The silence was broken only by happy sighs and the clinking of silverware. Having her dad and Jess in the same room was a little weird, but they were both acting like Jess had never said anything.

  “Zach, you’ve really outdone yourself,” Jess sighed contentedly, “I had no idea there was a chef hidden under all those muscles.”

  Zach’s freckled face reddened. “Thanks, I’ve been collecting stuff for a special occasion.”

  After most of the food had disappeared, everybody helped clean up while Zach brought out his guitar. He handed Lizzie the acoustic bass they’d liberated on their road-trip from Bellingham and she sat on the arm of the couch.

  Lizzie’s heart leapt at the sight of the bass. “I wondered where that got to.”

  Duke stood behind the couch, leaning in to look at it. “I didn’t know you played.”

  “Lots you don’t know about me, Duke.” Lizzie teased.

  Zach laughed. “That’s for sure.”

  Duke joined in the laughter, but it sounded forced as he walked around and collapsed onto the couch, his arm near her thigh.

  Zach glared at Duke.

  “Hey, Zach,” her dad asked, “you have another guitar?”

  Zach handed his over and disappeared, returning quickly with another guitar.

  After tuning they managed to play a few songs together. Mannie played House of the Rising Sun. Lizzie watched his hands to tell her what to play on the bass. By the last verse, she glowed with pride at following along, even managing to find a couple extra notes to toss in for the changes.

  Zach played Sweet Home Alabama. Mannie grinned as he followed, his fingers forming chords they had obviously learned before.

  Lizzie couldn’t decide what to play. She wanted to sing. She turned to her father. “Can I borrow your guitar?”

  He handed her the guitar and took her bass.

  “This song’s Breathe by a band called Greenwheel, but Melissa Etheridge got a hit out of it. The chords are A minor, D minor, G, C and F.” She played through the intro once.

  “I played the fool today,” she sang, glad that for the moment her family and friends were focused on her. When they focused on each other things turned to shit. “And every day,” she muttered. As she played she heard the bass beside her reverberating. She stole a glance away from the strings to grin at her father. He watched her proudly as he played along.

  At the end she got a round of applause and a whoop from Duke.

  “So,” Nev said, “Do you—”

  “Know anything from this century?” Lizzie finished.

  Zach poked Nev in the ribs.

  Nev slapped him back. “I don’t understand why you both like the old stuff so much.”

  “Actually that last one is from this century, but I knew you were gonna ask that.” She played a few simple chords. “If you ever—” Lizzie flowed into Bruno Mars, Count on Me. As the last chord rang, she looked up to Nev see smiling with a long missing warmth .

  “That’s better. Thanks for thinking of me, Lizzie.”

  Lizzie’s fingertips were beginning to ache. It had been too long since she'd played. Her calluses were wimpy.

  “Lizzie,” her father said softly, “I think we’ve got our first casualty of the evening.”

  Saj had been playing with some building blocks on the floorand collapsed onto them, his thumb in his mouth, shiny with drool. Handing the guitar to her father, she rolled Saj gently over into her arms.

  Her father’s mouth tightened. “You want me to take him home with me? You kids can talk.”

  “Okay.” She released Saj into her father’s capable arms.

  He kissed Lizzie’s forehead. “Have fun.”

  Rachael came over to kiss Saj. “Thanks, Mannie.” SHe warpped a blankie around Saj, tucking it in to keep him warm.

  Lizzie watched Jess’s eyes follow her father, but she didn’t say anything. They were both still shell-shocked, but maybe there was the beginning of acceptance there.

  As soon as the door clicked shut behind Mannie, Zach reached into a bag and pulled out a couple of six-packs of micro-brews.

  “You were waiting until my dad left to bring out the beer?”

  “Yeah,” Zach said. “Duh, I’m not a dick.”

  “Really?” Lizzie asked. “I can’t drink either.”

  “Yeah. No shit, Sherlock. You’re pregnant. I was there.”

  “Can we not talk about this?” Nev stepped in between them. “Zach, do you have to drink?”

  “Yup. I drink when I cook. I got one going in the kitchen.” He came back with a giant bottle with the remnants of a champagne-style wire cork wrap still around its neck. It was already half empty. “Anybody want to try my Trippel?”

  “Your triple what?” Lizzie asked.

  “Trippel Bock. It’s a Belgian beer. Found a stash. Kicks ass.”

  “Sounds like it’s already kicking your ass,” Lizzie said. “That’s a pretty big beer, Zach. You compensating?”

  Zach batted his eyes at her, “As you would say, Fuck you.”

  “Zach,” Nev said sharply, tugging on Lizzie’s arm. “Lizzie, come with me. We got you some really cool sodas: Jones, Henry Weinhard’s, and Green River.”

  Lizzie backed away from Zach and followed Nev’s boyish form. Lizzie wished she looked more like that. The pregnancy was already bumping up her previous curves.

  Nev swung the fridge door open and said, “Ta da!”

  “Thanks, Nev.” Lizzie grabbed a Weinhard’s Orange Cream Soda.

  “You’re welcome,” Nev said. “Zach actually did the legwork.”

  “But you suggested it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Thanks, Nev.” She thought about saying, ‘I’m sorry, about things.’ But she couldn’t figure out what she was sorry for and she didn’t think it would make anything better this time. She pulled Nev into a hug. Nev stiffened and then relaxed in Lizzie’s arms.

  “Hey, how about some of that for me?” Zach asked, coming toward them with his arms wide open. “My two best girls.”

  Nev broke away and swung Zach away from Lizzie. “Watch out for number one,” she said to Zach as she guided him back into the living room.

  Lizzie unclenched her fists. Why the hell had she thought this was a good idea? She went back into the living room and sat down between Duke and Jess. Jess was sucking down an I.P.A. But the face she made as she swallowed didn’t look like she was enjoying it.

  Duke had picked up one of the acoustic guitars and was playing Dust in the Wind.

  “Does everyone play guitar around here?” Nev asked.

  “I only play videos on YouTube,” Rachael joked.

  After a bit Duke sang, “Same old song, just a drop of water in an endless sea.”

  They sat around talking about music. Would there ever be new releases? Songs to download, to watch on YouTube?

  Lizzie nursed her Weinhard’s until it was warm and almost empty. “Hey, I’m out. Anybody want anything?”

  “There’s a ceramic flip top bottle in the fridge,” Zach said. “Dirty Bastard Wee Heavy. Here, take this dead soldier,” he held out the big bottle.

  Jess giggled. “You’re a wee heavy! Can you bring me something, too, Lizzie? I don’t care what.”

  “A wee heavy dirty bastard,” Lizzie muttered. She grabbed Zach’s empty as she walked past toward the kitchen. She saw the bathroom attached to it and decided that a little quiet time alone was in order. She closed the door, not bothering to turn the light on. For some reason the dark was
calmer. She sat on the toilet and peed, then pulled up her pants and sat on the lid pondering. Her birthday had been pleasant enough, but things were still awkward. What could she do to make things better between her and Zach and Nev?

  The door opened. Zach looked startled. “The light wasn’t on. Are you hiding? Sorry if I was being an asshole.”

  “Whoa,” Lizzie said, holding up her hands to ward him off. “I didn’t say you were an asshole. You did. But I will accept your apology. I’m sorry if my smart-ass comments hurt your feelings.”

  Zach stepped closer. “Can I have a hug?”

  “Yeah, you big dummy.”

  She could smell the alcohol as he pulled her in. She tensed and he seemed to sense her reluctance, backing off to a few inches away. “I’m glad you’re the mother of my baby. I always loved you and Nev.”

  “Love you, too, Zach.”

  He bent in like he was going to kiss her. She turned her cheek and broke into laughter. “Zach, you’re drunk.” She pushed him aside and stepped out of the bathroom. Duke and Nev were standing next to each other staring. Nev’s eyes strafed Lizzie up and down, stopping at her waist.

  Lizzie glanced down; her pants were unzipped. She pulled up the zipper.

  “What the fuck,” Nev screamed. “A little quickie in the bathroom for the mommy and daddy?”

  Zach stumbled out of the bathroom. “It’s not what you think.”

  “Get out, Zach Riley.”

  Lizzie froze as Nev came toward them, then stepped out of the way as she saw Nev focus her vitriol on Zach.

  Nev pointed at the kitchen door, “Get the fuck out of my house, right now.”

  Zach looked like the skinny little runt Lizzie had befriended in middle school, scared and angry. “Nev, I—”

  “NOW!” Nev picked up a wooden spoon, brandishing it at him as he scrambled backwards around the kitchen table. She jerked the door open and changed direction. “GO!”

  Zach went. “I’M SORRY!” he yelled as he slammed the door.

  Nev spun on Lizzie. “Jesus, Lizzie, what the fuck?” Nev bore down on her like she was going to beat the shit out of her.

  Lizzie spun away into the living room, her brain twisting, her hands clasping and unclasping in fists. What did I do? “This is not my fault.” Thoughts cascaded off each other in her head. I don’t want to hit Nev; she’s my friend. “Zach’s an asshole teen-aged boy.” Don’t let her hit you, she crossed her arms protecting the baby. “I didn’t say or do anything.” Did the others think it was her fault? She looked to the others for support, but they were frozen, watching the spectacle. Lizzie started to explain, turning back to Nev. “Zach—” The murderous look stopped Lizzie’s voice.

  Nev advanced toward her. “You are the most self-centered bitch I have ever chosen to call my friend.”

  Lizzie backed up until her calves hit the couch and she sank into it. Nev towered over her. Lizzie raised her hands to her mouth, but stopped short of chewing them. She heard her mother’s voice. Don’t chew your nails. They’re so ugly.

  Nev ranted on, but Lizzie didn’t hear the words. Everything was Lizzie’s fault. Maybe it was true. They wouldn’t even be here in Provo if Lizzie had been content to wait for her dad and Jess to get to Bellingham. Would Spike be alive? Lizzie’s heart twisted. “No.”

  “What?” Nev stared at her.

  What was the last thing Nev had said? Lizzie had no idea. “What what?”

  “You said, ‘No’.”

  “No, Spike would still be dead. Zach and I would still have this to deal with.” She gestured at her belly.

  “What the—” Nev’s sentence finished in a growl. She shook her head, menacing. “Don’t go Crazy Lizzie on me. The sympathy card won’t work on me this time.”

  Lizzie grabbed the edges of Nev’s jacket and pulled her down, spinning her into the couch. “Fuck you. I’m not crazy—and I don’t need pity.” Lizzie pushed herself up off the couch and stood glaring down at Nev.

  Nev’s eyes flashed in fear.

  Lizzie compressed her lips, as regret washed over her. “I’m not going to hurt you. I love you.” She reached out to stroke Nev’s shoulder, but dropped her hand as she saw her friend flinch and shrink into the couch. Lizzie sank to the carpet, shoving aside Jess’ hands trying to calm her.

  Duke gently cleared his throat. He and Rachael stood by the door.

  “What?” Lizzie barked.

  Duke winced. “Didn’t really have to happen.”

  “No.” Lizzie said, finally giving up the argument. “It didn’t.”

  “Sorry, Lizzie,” Rachael said as she slipped into her coat. “I’m going to go get Saj, I’ll bring him to your place.

  Duke held the door for Rachael, and looked like he was going to say something to Lizzie, but he kept his mouth shut and left.

  When they had gone, Lizzie turned to Jess, her arms wrapped around Nev huddling on the couch. “Nev?” Lizzie offered.

  “Get away from me,” she growled. “I don’t want to see you or Zach.”

  Jess motioned with her head for Lizzie to go.

  For a few minutes she had the old Nev back and now she didn’t want to make things any worse. Best thing now was to give Nev space—that’s all Lizzie ever did. But she couldn’t leave it like that. If she could wave a white flag, she should. “I’m sorry, Nev. I really am sorry.”

  Lizzie shrugged into her down jacket and pulled the stocking cap over her head, waiting for a response from Nev. Nothing. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she closed the door gently instead of slamming it. This wasn’t her fault. Not really. Or Nev’s either, she was just reacting.

  Duke stood waiting for her across the street. He didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at her. But he offered her his arm, she took it and let him walk her home. She watched his stoic face for a clue, but got nothing until he hugged her at her doorstep.

  He promised to check on her later and excused himself. Lizzie stepped into her own silent apartment, determined not to cry until Rachael had left and Saj was asleep.

  Zach flew outside into the cold. He didn’t have the right gear for running in the snow, but he ran anyway—toward the barracks. Where else could he go?

  God-damned fucking alcohol and his lack of control. Everything he’d hated about his old man popped out today: sexist, drunken, pig. He sprinted until his feet hurt. The Converse Chuck Taylors were piss-poor for anything active outside of a basketball court and not very good there either. He’d put them on this morning in honor of the Breakfast Club. Flashback. Shit. He jogged on, feeling the pain in his soles, glad that the snow provided a little cushion.

  The city was quiet except the old man who wandered the streets offering the same few bible quotes—not a dog-man, but close.

  “You want to hear some good news today, son?” asked the simple man.

  “Don’t think I could take it today, sir,” Zach hollered as he ran past.

  “John 3:16. For god so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son—”

  A bitter laugh escaped Zach’s throat. “I’m the fucking begotten son, old man,” he muttered in between breaths. He wasn’t ready for peace yet. He’d finally started feeling his own emotions, after years of fearing what he would become. He didn’t have to turn into his dad because he felt angry. He just needed a way to vent it, other than on the people he cared about. But he’d just done that, screwing up just about every relationship that meant anything too him.

  When he reached the barracks, he ran straight to the gym. A couple of the boys were in the boxing ring, half-heartedly hitting each other. Zach pulled a pair of gloves off the hooks.

  “All right,” Zach ducked in between the ropes, “which one of you wants a real workout?”

  They stared at him. The bigger one shrugged. “I’ll take it.”

  The skinnier guy said, “You need head-gear. And a mouth guard.”

  Zach shook his head. “Not today, I don’t.”

  “Sergeant’s orders.”
>
  “Let’s just say I’m not taking orders today.”

  The two kids exchanged looks. Zach was only a year or so older than they were, but they seemed like uncertain children. The big guy was near Zach’s weight, maybe a little more, and solid. Zach slapped his gloves against him and asked, “Well, we gonna do this?”

  The guy sneered. “You’re drunk.” He popped a mouth guard in.

  “Yeah. What are you gonna do about it.” Zach shoved the kid back and started circling. He danced on the balls of his feet and feinted with a few jabs.

  The guy threw a couple test punches.

  Zach shot in with his right and circled left. The kid’s gloved fist hit him on the chin. Zach came in pummeling. The other fighter’s glove slammed him straight between the eyes—and everything went red.

  The next thing Zach knew, he was being pulled off the kid. The guy sat up spewing spit and blood, mouth guard dangling, headgear askew.

  Something dark flowed into Zach’s eye. His own blood.

  Chapter Twenty

  LIZZIE SAT STARING INTO THE cup of coffee on her kitchen table. She hadn’t had anything to drink the night before, so why did she feel hung-over? Was there such a thing as an emotional hangover? She felt drugged. And empty. She’d alienated pretty much everyone, except her father. But Zach was the problem, him plus the alcohol equaled instant asshole. Had she done anything to make it worse? She rewound back to the start of the party, pausing at the moment when she and Nev were okay, a team again. Then he had walked in and made some comment. Things had been shaky from there.

  There was a knock on her apartment door. She hustled out of her seat. Was it Duke? She wanted someone’s arms holding her and words saying that everything would work out. Lizzie’s heart bumped a bit stronger. Or the adoption folks? She put her eye to the peephole. Zach. She opened her mouth to spit obscenities with a “go away” tacked on, but the misery on his face made his usual hang dog look seem pleasant.

  She turned the knob and pulled the door open far enough to lean against the jamb, but not to give him any ideas that he could come in. Let him start the conversation.