Storm Front

by Riley Flynn

  And Krol. Even if they never spoke, Alex watched the man religiously. The way he moved around the farm, the way his pinhole eyes scoured every room. The way he snuck away from the farm in his car and, occasionally, silently strolled to the barn when it was night and no one was awake.

  Because Alex knew the farm better than anyone, he knew where to stand. He had his favorite spots. Hidden places where he could watch in peace. Waiting in the shadows beside the stable gave him a direct view of the barn door and the back yard, letting him watch both at once. No one else seemed to care about these places so he kept them quiet.

  But Alex watched Krol. The baby, he noticed, never seemed to bother the man.

  He’s not human, Alex thought to himself, worried about respecting Krol’s self-restraint.

  The problem, they discovered, was that no one knew too much about how to care for a child.

  Instead, everyone contributed little packets of knowledge. Cam, from his older sisters’ kids. Nelson, from when he’d watched Reni grow up. Jenna had groomed ponies and other pets from a young age, enough to give her practice, revealing her nurturing nature. Everyone seemed to have an idea or a thought, which they took up the stairs to Joan and laid in front of her as a tribute.

  Slowly, they began to piece together a routine. Cam, for example, knew how to hold the baby better than anyone else. When he rocked the child in his arms, the crying stopped. Joan’s face in these moments, Alex saw, was a mix of pain and relief. Thankful, at last, that there was quiet in the room. Pained that it wasn’t her who had brought it about.

  Not everyone was thrilled by the arrival. Jamie, Alex had noticed, complained more often about her lack of sleep. Her bed was closest to the baby and she was quick to notice any noise. She’d snip and snipe, leaving loaded comments whenever she heard the cry.

  Krol, on the other hand, seemed indifferent. Almost as though nothing had changed, he barely acknowledged the baby.

  Alex, an only child who grew up on an isolated farm, had not spent much time around anyone younger than himself. Sammy, he remembered, had found his interactions with children hilarious. She had been Athena’s go-to baby-sitter, no stranger to toddlers’ tears. Every time her boyfriend tried to formally introduce himself to a baby with a handshake, she fell on the floor laughing.

  Sammy crept into Alex’s thoughts more and more. He was so close to Athena but he might as well have been back in Detroit. The ring in his pocket was just dead weight, doing nothing but clogging up his thoughts with constant nostalgia. But he couldn’t throw it away.

  One day, Timmy had dragged Alex into one of the old sheds. It was packed with boxes and broken furniture. Anything Eames had forgotten to sell, burn, or throw in the garbage.

  No one guarded these doors; there were no rules forbidding them from entering. So, Alex had assumed, they would be full of junk. Instead, he’d dedicated himself to the barn and the other mysteries. No distractions: he wanted to make the best use of his time.

  Timmy had led Alex in quietly, his shoulders shaking with barely contained glee. He’d closed the door behind them, lit a candle and whispered, “Alex Early.” Timmy bowed his head. “I present to you: your past!”

  Theatrically, Timmy had flourished his hand and stepped aside. A collection of plastic tubs sat in the corner. Full of old photographs, yearbooks, and other relics of Alex’s youth.

  A day had been wasted pouring though it all. Dead relatives and distant memories.

  None of it put food on the table.

  But the pictures helped to kindle a reminder in Alex’s mind. All the possessions he’d left behind when he’d left the house ten years ago, the hidden boxes gave him fresh hope that more might be stored around the farm. These weren’t distractions, he realized. They were his life.

  Whenever he had a moment, Alex had started to search. It wasn’t just the barn which obsessed him anymore. He searched everywhere. In every room, in every shed, in every hole, nook, and cranny.

  “Joan, really. We had so many things. I bet there was a pacifier put away somewhere.”

  “Alex, please.”

  “No, really. It’s just what my mom would have done. A way to remind me that she was waiting for grandkids. I bet there’s a whole heap of stuff around here somewhere.”

  Even as he mentioned his mom, he pictured her in his mind. That nose, the one he’d inherited, twitching as she mentioned children, complimenting Sammy’s eyes and how well they’d suit a baby. It brought a lump to his throat, thinking of the dead. Alex threw himself to the floor, checking every crevice. The more he acted, the less he had to think.

  “Please.” Joan, exasperated, walked around the bedroom, bouncing the crying child in her arms. “Just don’t worry about it, Alex. Cam even made me a rattle, see?”

  A short stick with a ball of duct tape tied up at one end, decorated with yellow stars. As Joan shook it, the rattle produced a sound like dry rice hitting against a plastic casing. It distracted Alex, made him stop and look.

  “I’m glad I’ve finally got your attention.” Joan’s sarcasm had returned. “Can you go and find Timmy?”

  Like this, every time, he’d have his suggestions refused. It only made him more certain that the farm had secrets, building the fire of fascination up in Alex’s mind.

  After days of hunting throughout the house, Alex came up empty handed. He had nothing. Nothing but tired eyes and wasted time.

  There was only one place he hadn’t looked. The barn. Every time he’d tried to gain access, he’d been caught. Jamie or Reni or Nelson would wander around the corner and ask him what he was doing. Fumbling an excuse, he’d slink away. Whatever was inside the barn, they were trying harder than ever to keep it hidden.

  “We have to stop the baby crying, man,” Timmy said as they walked through the house together. “It’s really getting to me.”

  “You know what I think.”

  “We can’t go into the barn. You know that.”

  “I’m telling you, Timmy. All my stuff is in there. You want to help the baby – you want to find out what’s going on – it’s all in the barn.”

  “Every day you’re telling me this, man. It’s getting old.”

  “You know how to stop me.”

  “We’re not going in.”

  They arrived just outside the kitchen. People were inside, talking and eating. Krol, Cam, Nelson, and Reni. Alex began to whisper.

  “I’ll make a deal with you, Timmy. You ask Krol if you can go inside – he likes you more than me – and, if he says no, I won’t mention it again.”

  “No way, man. He’s scary. You ask him.”

  Alex just stared at his friend.

  “Look, Timmy. He’s just in there. Go and ask him now. Please.”

  Timmy looked around the hallway. It was dark and empty. No one was there to help him.

  “If I do this, you won’t ask me again?”

  “Never.”

  “And you’ll shut up about the barn?”

  “Completely.”

  “And you’ll tell people that it was me who fought those CIA agents up on the cliffs?”

  “If you think they’ll believe you. Whatever it takes.”

  “Fine. Fine. This is the last time we talk about this. After that, you’re back to normal again. Wait here.”

  Alex stayed in the shadows and watched Timmy walk into the kitchen. He knew his friend well enough to know when he was trying to be casual.

  “Hey, guys.” Alex shook his head as Timmy talked. “How is everybody?”

  A mumbled response from the room. It was lunch time. People were focused on eating.

  “So… er… Krol. I was thinking...”

  “Yes, Timothy?”

  The sound of the man’s voice made Alex angry, even from inside the corridor. He peeked out around the door. Timmy had circled around half of the room, positioning himself on the opposite side.

  Alex could see his friend’s face. Timmy looked nervous. Everyone turned to watch him.

&n
bsp; “Heh. Yeah. So, er… I was wondering. More of a question, really. I had these books… really good ones. A series, I think. About some guys. Anyway, I’m missing one of the books. I think it might be in the barn…”

  Hiding his face, Alex winced. A wretched excuse. Timmy might be sabotaging the plan on purpose. Krol kept his head fixed in position. He didn’t talk.

  “So, yeah.” Timmy scratched the back of his head, looking at the floor. “I was wondering whether I could just check inside, real quick.”

  The other people in the room had stopped. Nelson had a fork halfway to his mouth, a small morsel of meat about to be eaten.

  “No.”

  Krol turned back to his food. Timmy shot Alex a look, dread written across his face.

  Not everyone was in the kitchen, Alex realized. But most people were. He’d last seen Jenna chopping wood and Jamie heading out into the fields. The barn, he thought to himself, it’s probably unguarded.

  All Timmy had to do was to keep these people occupied and distracted.

  Alex tried to get his friend’s attention with a head nod. Timmy looked up, his flat expression and pursed lips enough to show his reticence.

  Ignoring his friend’s panicked expression, Alex cycled his hand in quick, repeated loops. The universal sign for ‘keep them occupied’. At least, he thought, I hope it’s a universal sign.

  Timmy seemed to understand. At least, he looked angry. But he started talking.

  “So, uh… yeah. This book series, it was about these guys. Just normal, boring guys, right? And they work in an office and then–”

  Alex didn’t wait to hear more of the plot. Timmy was making it all up anyway. All he had to do was make it captivating. Keep them hooked. A real page turner. He’ll probably fill it with loads of useless conversations, Alex told himself as he ran toward the courtyard. It needs more action, Timmy.

  There was no time to hesitate. Alex had a window. An opportunity. He had to make it count. The courtyard was empty. Sure, he’d promised the others he’d take it easy. But this was his chance. There was no reason to feel guilty if he was right. He ran straight to the barn.

  Coming to a stop, taking a knee, Alex grabbed hold of the padlock. He’d been in this position before. Enough times to know that he didn’t need a thin, spindly lock pick. He needed a more industrial approach.

  Putting one hand into his pocket, Alex pulled out two house nails. His finger brushed against the ring in his pocket. No time for reminiscing now.

  Alex tucked one of the nails between his teeth. It tasted terrible. Rust and iron flakes. Nothing he could do about it, though.

  With the other hand, he held the second nail like a pen and slipped it into the gaping keyhole.

  It’s ancient, this thing. Alex tried to listen to the sounds. It might be too old to pick.

  The lock was all springs and teeth inside. He searched for a click, poking the head of the nail around.

  It caught. Alex could feel it move ever so slightly.

  Now, he took the nail from his mouth and tried to fit it in on the other side of the keyhole. Click it into place, turn them together, and the lock would spring open. Easy.

  All he had to do was listen.

  Scrape, scrape, scrape. The sharp end of the nail scratched around inside the lock. Alex strained his ears.

  “Come on, come on. Nearly there.”

  He was nearly there. He could feel it.

  Alex stopped. He heard something. The sound of a car engine, driving up the track. It stopped. Two doors slammed. Footsteps.

  “Goddamn,” he said under his breath, the cursing air escaping his lungs, letting his panic out into the world.

  He grabbed the nails out of the lock. There wasn’t enough time to run back across the courtyard. The footsteps were getting louder. They were coming, fast.

  Dropping the padlock, it clattered against the wooden door of the barn. Alex didn’t wait for the echo, he just ran away from whoever was approaching. He came to the corner of the barn and dived out of sight.

  Now, he could hear voices. Two female voices. Coming toward him.

  Jamie and Jenna. He could recognize them now. Two people who would know exactly what he had been trying to do. Alex moved farther around the corner, ducking into an open doorway.

  It was dark. He hid.

  The voices came closer and closer. Hushed voices. He couldn’t hear what they were saying. Only a few words stood out.

  “Krol… church… guns… now.”

  Jamie and Jenna passed by the doorway without breaking their stride. Too engrossed in their conversation to worry about anyone hiding nearby, Alex thought.

  But the words had been enough to spark his interest. He had a choice: he could sneak back around and try and open the barn again or he could follow these people and find out more about their conversation.

  Alex didn’t trust Timmy’s storytelling skills. The people in the kitchen were probably on the move.

  Keeping quiet, he slipped out of the doorway and started following Jenna and Jamie through the farm buildings.

  The outbuildings on the farm were like a rats’ nest. Improvised sheds and lean-tos all over the place created a series of alleys and turns, all propped up against the bigger buildings. Just as they’d always been. A comforting confusion, something he could wrap his head around.

  Out in front, they seemed to know exactly where they were going. Alex moved quietly, carefully, and tried to stay hidden.

  After a minute, the two women stopped. Alex stopped, too.

  Picking a key from her back pocket, Jamie passed it to Jenna and motioned towards a ramshackle door.

  It was a shed propped up against the back of the barn. From the outside, it looked on the point of collapsing. Alex hadn’t checked inside yet. This was one of the lesser sheds. Eames wouldn’t have gone anywhere near this place.

  The door swung inward and Jamie stepped inside.

  Alex crept forward. He was ten feet behind them, inching closer.

  Someone flipped a switched. A flicker of light came from inside the shed. Alex moved closer again.

  The women were laughing at something. He could almost see inside.

  Just a little closer.

  Alex stood up to his full height. He could see over Jenna’s shoulder. His jaw dropped.

  Inside the shed were metal racks lined with guns. More guns than he’d ever seen in one place. Guns in all shapes and sizes. More than Timmy had ever owned. Rifles, pistols, and everything else.

  Mouth still gaping, Alex stepped forward, transfixed.

  Jamie saw him.

  “Hey!” she shouted, jumping through the open door and pulling it closed behind her. “Hey, get out of here!”

  Alex ignored her. He turned on his heels. Behind him, he heard someone fumbling with a lock. Jamie was shouting again. He didn’t care.

  Ignoring it all, Alex walked back toward the house. He moved fast. Not running, but quick enough to get his heart pumping.

  They had guns. An arsenal. A secret horde of weapons.

  Something was wrong.

  Alex was back in the courtyard. Krol was standing on the porch, his face scanning the buildings.

  Behind, Jamie was still shouting. Alex walked forward.

  “You lied.” He spoke the words to Krol carefully and softly.

  Jamie caught up with him, running up to the porch.

  “He saw the guns.” She was out of breath, her face a mixture of fear and guilt. “He must have followed us.”

  Timmy and Cam appeared behind Krol and tried to join Alex in the courtyard. A hand reached out and blocked them.

  “You don’t know what you’ve seen.” Krol wheezed and rattled. Not panicked, just his usual tone, like coffin bones bouncing around. “Alex, you need to stay calm.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Alex’s voice was rising up into a shout. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “What is it?” Timmy called out. “What’s going on?”

  “The
y’ve been hiding their guns, Timmy. Out in one of the sheds. I’ve seen it. What else are you hiding, Krol? What else aren’t you telling us?”

  “Alex, please–”

  Too angry to listen.

  “No. No, don’t you tell me please. What else have you lied to us about? What else is there we should know?”

  Alex turned around. There was a car sitting at the top of the track. Wherever Jamie and Jenna had been, they’d left their ride unattended.

  “Hey, Krol!” Alex was shouting now. “Tell me! What else have you lied about?”

  He started backing off, crossing the courtyard and waving his arms at the buildings all around him.

  “Anything else we should know? Or do I have to find it out for myself?”

  Krol didn’t try to answer. Alex didn’t give him time.

  “Maybe I’ll go and take a look for myself.”

  Alex already knew what he was going to do. He’d already made the decision. As soon as he’d seen the car sitting on the track. Still full of fuel. Waiting.

  He almost ran the last few steps, his sneakers kicking up echoes. No one tried to stop him as he almost ripped the car door off its hinges.

  The key was still in the ignition.

  Alex sat in the seat and started the engine.

  “There’s a whole world out there, Krol,” he shouted through the open car door. “Maybe I’ll see what it’s really like.”

  He thumped the door shut, finding a gear and stamping on the accelerator at once.

  The car lurched forward, skidded in a long arc, and filled the courtyard with a cloud of dust and exhaust.

  With both hands wrapped around the wheel, Alex left it all behind.

  14

  The engine grumbled and moaned. Alex was pushing it too hard. He didn’t care.

  Outside, the world was just a blur. Shapes and colors, streaming together as one. But Alex didn’t look to the sides. He stared down the open road and lay into the accelerator. He knew where he wanted to go. Athena.

  A dead town. A decimated town. A town struck down by plague and religion. Krol had damned it. But the man had lied and left the truth untouched. Alex had to see the destruction for himself.

  At the heart of it all was Sammy. The house where she had used to live. The screen door which flapped in the evening breeze when he picked her up after school. The hanging chair they’d shared together under too many sunsets. All the physical detail of her life which had stayed with him while he’d spent years trying to repress any and every emotional detail. But it was all still there.