I didn't see him say good-bye to Sammy, but I heard him talking with him for a while this morning. I just couldn't hear what he was saying. When I said good-bye to Sammy, he hugged me tightly, smiled and said, "Don't worry, Mommy. I'll see you tonight."
Celia hasn't said more than a couple of words. I don't know what she knows at this point and what she doesn't. She said, "I'll see you later, guys," when we walked out of the apartment. Regardless of her flat tone, I felt better when she said guys—meaning both of us.
We're taking my car to the airport. We never take my car anywhere. Alex prefers to drive his Jeep. He sits down in the driver’s seat, positions his seat, lifts the steering wheel, adjusts the mirrors, looks at his reflection, and shakes his head with disappointment.
"What's the—"
"Don't ask me that," he says.
CHAPTER SEVEN:
FLYING TO FIND THE END
I DECIDED MAYBE it was best not to say anything right now. The entire thirty-minute trip to the airport was quieter than a night in a padded cell. When we arrived at the airport, he retrieved our two backpacks from the trunk and threw one over each shoulder. I took my purse and clutched it between my arms. I still hate flying, but I hate it even more knowing that I'm heading to Massachusetts and walking into some sort of lion's den. What if Alex is giving himself up to Franco again to keep us safe? Oh my—that's what this is all about. That's why he is acting like this is the end. That's why he's acting the way he's acting. But why would Celia tell us she'd see us later? That part doesn't make sense.
"Chloe?" Alex places his hand on my shoulder, startling me out of my dark thoughts.
"I'll do anything to keep us three safe, you know. You don't have to hide anything from me." I look him in his wide eyes. “Shouldn’t we wait until after Sammy’s birthday to do anything, though?” I ask.
"What are you talking about?" he asks.
"I’m sure this is about the locket and me giving it to him. And if that’s what this is, I’ll do it," I say, placing my hand over his shoulder. I force a smile so he knows I’m being genuine.
Alex rests both of his hands on my shoulders and narrows his eyes. "You think I would bring you to Franco so you could give him your locket? Are you crazy?"
I shrug against his heavy hands. "Isn't that why we're going?"
"No, Chloe." He looks pissed at me for having such a thought. But really, what other reason is there for going? I’m sure we’re not going there so we can tell him he’s scaring us and to leave us alone. The thought of that actually makes me want to laugh.
I pull myself out of his tightening grip. His hands are trembling and the veins on his forehead are protruding. "Then what is this? Just tell me already."
He wraps his hands back onto my shoulders, brings his face closer to mine and closes his eyes. "I can't. If I told you, it could put Sammy in danger."
I know he's lying and using Sammy as a decoy. He knows I won't fight him when it has to do with Sammy. “Let go of me.” He releases his hands immediately, realizing his fingers had been pressing too firmly. I swing my purse back over my shoulder. "Let's just go."
I follow Alex through the multiple terminals until we arrive at gate nineteen. They're already boarding the plane, so Alex pulls out our two tickets and walks up to the check-in counter. The flight attendant checks over our boarding passes and pops them into a scanner. As they shoot out of the other side, she pulls them out and rips them in half before handing one to each of us. I look at the ticket to see what seat I'm sitting in and walk through the narrow jetway.
As I walk down the skinny aisles, everyone seems to be staring at me, trying to figure out my every thought. Everyone knows my destiny in my own drift—everyone but me. I slide into the window seat in lucky row thirteen. I fasten my seatbelt and stare outside and up into the clear blue sky. There are only two clouds up there. One looks like a flame, and the other just looks like a blob. I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. Once I hear Alex's seatbelt fasten, he lifts my hand from my lap and places it on his. His hand is sweaty and warm. I peek out of my half opened eyes to see his expression, but he's flipping through pictures on his phone. He comes to a picture of Sammy on Halloween when he was dressed like Buzz Lightyear from Toy Story. He unknowingly squeezes my hand tighter as he traces the outline of Sammy's face with his thumb. He clenches his eyes shut and clicks the off button before placing his phone down on his lap. He takes a deep breath and looks over at me. "You nervous?"
"Yeah, which one of us is dying today?" I whisper softly.
He gives me a weird laugh and nods his head like I’m nuts. "I meant, are you nervous about the plane ride?"
"No," I respond.
He forces a smile and lifts my hand to his lips. "I love you, Chlo. Why don't you take a nap? It will make the plane ride go by faster," he says, nestling his head awkwardly into the headrest.
"Maybe I don't want the plane ride to go by quickly," I mumble.
"It’s all going to be fine, Chlo. You'll see."
I might actually believe him if he wasn't acting like the world was going to end at some point today.
***
Why do they tell you to prepare for landing? What am I supposed to do other than stare at the world beneath us and hope we don't crash into it? And why can't they make it a soft landing? I feel like we're going to drive right off the runway into the Boston Harbor. Maybe that would be a better way to die today.
The wheels make contact with the pavement and the screeching noise of the brakes cause all of the hair on my arm to stand at attention. My body shivers from the squeal and I take a deep breath, knowing that I survived the first leg of the trip.
The cabin lights flicker on and off and Alex flips the metal plate of his seatbelt off before popping open the overhead compartment. Our bags come tumbling out and he catches both of them before swiftly throwing them back over his shoulders. I'm standing up at my seat, trying to stretch my cramped limbs with my head cocked to the right since I can't fully stand up until I move out of the row. It takes them so long to disembark the plane. I wish we could just fling open the emergency door so that rubber slide thing would pop out and we could get off of this claustrophobic piece of crap.
After twenty minutes of waiting for the moving jetway to line up to the plane properly, we transfer into the airport. We didn't check any bags, so we arrive on the top deck of the parking garage quickly. I glance around at all of the black limos and sedans. They remind me of the stolen car Franco had when he took me down into the Catacombs where he was holding Alex hostage.
Off to the right is a short bald man with a huge black mustache, holding a small whiteboard with our last name scribbled on it.
"We have a car picking us up? A taxi would have been fine, you know."
"We don't want anyone to know where we're going," Alex whispers into my ear.
"This guy is going to know where we're going," I remind him.
"The police force hired him."
"The San Diego Police Force hired this driver in Boston?" I ask.
"He works for the Boston Police Department. Don't worry."
I roll my eyes and beat the driver to the door so I can open it myself. I slide in onto the polished leather seats and place my purse over my lap. The windows are tinted and there are two bottles of water and two bags of pretzels in the middle console. I'm hungry, but my nerves would force the food up if I ate anything right now.
Alex slides in and rips open his bag of pretzels. "I'm starving," he says, emptying the bag into his mouth.
"You can have mine too," I say.
"You should eat them. You're probably hungry?"
"It's fine. I'll wait until this is all over and then I'll eat."
He doesn't touch my bag of pretzels. He just stares out of the darkened window throughout the duration of our forty-five minute ride to Worcester.
The clock tower is in sight and grows larger as we continue up the steep hill toward the institution. The driver pulls around the b
ack of the building next to the dumpster and loading docks. He jumps out of the car and opens my door first and then greets Alex at his side.
"Good luck, kids," the driver says, speaking his first words since we met up with him.
Alex takes my hand and pulls me under the loading dock into the basement door of the institution, the door I've come in and out of a few times now. But it’s been years since I’ve been here. As we enter the dark and musky hallway, we hear a clanging noise in the distance. I'm sure it's coming from his cell. But, what could he have that would be making a noise?
As we approach the cell, we see his hand outside of the small barred window, clinking a beer bottle against the metal bars. Where did he get the bottle?
"Right on time, I see," Franco snarls.
"You knew we were coming?" I ask.
"Franco knows everything, darling," Franco seethes through his teeth that he has shoved up against the rusty bars. "I take it you have finally brought me the locket?"
"You aren't getting that damn locket, Franco. Give it up. I came here to tell you that the police are onto you. They know who you’re working with, and they know you are the founder of Ocnarf. I'm here to give you a friendly warning. If you do not cease and desist immediately, I will give away your location. Am I clear?"
"What do you mean give away his location?" I ask Alex. "I'm the one who put him here, so he would be locked up and away from us."
"Chloe, baby. Do you really think Franco would still be locked up if he didn't want to be?" Alex says as he pushes Franco's face away from the bars.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"He's been hiding out down here. If the police find him, he's a dead man. Do you know how many warrants are out for his arrest?"
I'm speechless. I can't even muster up the words to respond.
"Well, it's a good thing the police won't find me in here, isn't it?" Franco grunts.
"You moron, Alex is the police," I say.
Silence creeps over us. There are no sounds other than the shallow breathing seeping through the bars of the cell, along with the loud swallowing noise Alex just made. I suddenly realize that I probably wasn't supposed to give away Alex's identity to the one person who shouldn't have known. I can see by the look on his face that I screwed up.
"Chloe, can I speak with you for a moment?" Alex asks, dragging me quickly down the hall toward the exit.
"I am so sorry, Alex. That was so dumb of me. I have no idea why I said that."
As I'm mumbling a string of apologies, I hear Franco muttering something, followed by a harrowing laugh.
Alex wraps his hands around both of my arms and pulls me in close. "Chloe, I need you to run. Now. Do you understand? Don't look back—just keep running. Go anywhere, but here."
"But—" My body begins to shake and my knees feel weak. My heart is skipping beats and then racing to catch up. Beads of sweat are forming on the back of my neck, and I feel icy cold pins and needles cover my face. Run? I don't even know how to move right now. I'm staring into his eyes, and they're wide and covered with darkening red veins. His hands are becoming hot against my skin, but my skin feels freezing cold beneath his grip.
He pulls me in hard against him and presses his lips firmly against mine. He's breathing hard and his shirt is becoming damp from the amount of sweat pouring off of him.
Tears are pouring from my eyes and he backs away slightly, still staring at me. "I love you, baby. Never forget that," his voice sputters.
What’s happening? I’m scared. I’m terrified.
My body is numb. This is my mind. This is my mind. This is just in my goddamn mind. If it gets too bad, I can wake up. I’ll just wake up. Wake up, Chloe! I want to wake up now.
We hear a door open from the opposite end of the hall and both look down toward the noise. I hear a raucous shriek. What the hell is that?
I know what it is. Why am I questioning it? I should be running. Alex told me to run, so why am I standing here frozen in place?
Alex’s lips are screaming the words run, but I don’t hear any noise. I can’t hear anything but the shrieking. I clutch my hands around my ears and scream as loud as I can, but I can’t even hear my own screams. Just shrieking. I cry. I cry harder. Why can’t I hear my own cries? I’m crying for help, but I don’t hear my own cries for help.
What the hell is wrong with me?
My nose is burning.
My eyes are burning.
My throat is closing.
"Alex, come with me. Just come with me, please," I yell. I think.
Alex looks down the hall again, and I can see the instant his mind switches directions. He coughs, almost chokes. The smell in the air is sweet, but foul. There’s a fog creeping up on us as he grips my hand tightly within his and yanks me down the opposite end of the hallway. As we're running forward, I look behind us to see a swarm of black birds flying through the fog. As I watch them screaming toward us, I feel a cool gust of air hit the back of my neck, and I whip my head around as the metal door slams behind me. We continue running down the street, through a couple of parking lots and then onto a main street. We walk down a busy road, full of construction and traffic. The farther away we get, the better I feel, but I'm not stupid enough to think this is really the end. We're just taking a brief time out.
My heart is beating too fast. My body might collapse. Lights are flickering, but we’re outside, and it’s daytime.
The McDonalds across the street is turning into a spiraling vortex. My head is swaying around in circles. My head has become a lead weight. I feel zaps across my chest, and a white light blinds my eyes.
A pillow conforms to my head. Sheets cover my body. The scent of ammonia fills my nose and stings my throat. My shoulders sway from side to side. Fast. Then slow.
Fast again.
I’m shaking.
I’m on my feet again.
No pillow.
No sheets.
Rotten grease wafts through the air.
Alex.
“Chloe? Snap out of it. Stay with me.” Alex’s voice is shrill, panicked. I can hear him now. “Breathe, Chlo. In and out. In and out.” His words are broken apart. He’s having trouble breathing too. Why can’t we breathe? I study his eyes for an answer, but my head is too heavy. It falls forward, and I’m staring at the pavement. My eyes close again. But they burn like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing against each other. My mouth fills with saliva. It’s dripping from my lips.
“What happened?”
“Fumes,” he says in between coughing spasms.
CHAPTER EIGHT:
HOME IS NOT WHERE THE HEART IS
WE WALK INTO the McDonalds and Alex pulls me to the back of the restaurant and helps me into a booth. He pulls the hood of my sweatshirt over my head and tilts his baseball cap down over his eyes.
With both of our heads bowed toward the crumb-covered table, Alex breaks the silence. "Chloe, I saw something." Yeah. I saw something too.
Death.
Birds.
Hell.
What could he have seen that I didn’t?
My eyes peek out from under the fabric of my hood. Families surround us. Kids excited to see what’s in their happy meal. Moms and dads smile at their children’s innocent enjoyment. I was dealt the shittiest of shitty cards. So was Alex, and now Sammy too. What the hell did I do to deserve this much crap in one life? My head is so screwed up. I used to have an escape. It was harmless then. Now it’s becoming the demise of my life. I could kiss Alex good-bye and go back to one life, but that life is alone in a world that still consists of Franco. I think.
"I saw the birds too," I say.
He lifts his head enough so I can see his eyes beneath the rim of his cap. He’s silent for a minute. A long minute. The look in his eyes is unresolved, unsure. In the silence before his words, I fall in love with his eyes again—the ocean blue dimes that sparkle with the reflection of my own face.
How did we get here?
His perfect lips part as
he pulls in a hesitant breath. "I saw something in our future a few years ago and I wasn't sure when it was going to happen, how, or why." He readjusts his hat before continuing. "Sammy was the age he is now and I remember Celia having two black eyes and a broken wrist.” This is it. I swallow hard. The secret he’s been hiding. The— “It was the end." End. He looks down at his shaky twiddling thumbs. I focus on his hands, the freckles on his knuckles, and the wedding band on his finger. His hands have always been so strong, but now they are weak.
All I can do is nod my head, repeating what he said in my head. He isn’t going anywhere. He can't. It's not his time, or my time. We have a family to take care of. We were supposed to have a happy ending, and this isn't it. We will have a happy ending. He promised me this so many times in the past few years. If he saw the end years ago, and he’s promised me a happy ending since then, what he’s saying doesn’t make sense.
“This is not the end,” I say, trying to convince myself. "What if we give him the locket?" If that’s what Franco wants, he can have it. Neither of our lives are worth that thing, no matter how important it is—a necklace that supposedly represents death. I don’t want it anyway. Maybe if we give it to Franco, the end that Alex thinks is coming won’t happen. Could it be so simple?
"I will die first," he says without thinking. He isn’t thinking. Obviously.
"Don't be absurd, Alex. No piece of jewelry is worth dying for." Then I remember. The necklace isn’t jewelry. It’s a representation of a piece of my mind. Alex will die before I surrender a part of my mind to Franco. He would die to protect me. That isn’t absurd. I would do the same for him.
"Chloe, it's not the jewelry part that is important here. It's what is in the locket that matters." I know that now. “There is something in the locket that will help you recall your lost memories. When you can recall that period of time, it will save you. It will return you.” Return me?
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