by C. Dulaney
“Is that…?” Dad breathed. It sounded like he was talking on an inhale.
“It is.”
I rose to my feet and shrugged the pack off my shoulders. Mom knew I was here; I hadn’t tried to hide myself from her. So far neither she nor her teammates had made a move against me. Dad hissed something at my feet and pulled on my arm. I stepped away and dropped my backpack onto the hood of the Focus.
“I told you, they won’t bother us.”
“Goddamnit, kid. It’s not them I’m worried about.” His eyes darted all around as he straightened and practically stood on top of me.
I pushed him back and held my hand up. “Just trust me, okay?” After a moment of no reply, I turned back to my pack and rummaged through it.
“I don’t see Ryan.”
“He’s probably inside with the others.” I found what I’d been looking for, balled it up, stuffed it under my armpit, and headed off toward the pharmacy.
“Hey,” Dad whispered. “Hey!” His pleading was lost to the wind.
I ducked down and hurried across the street. Even though I was fairly certain there were no other runners in the immediate area, old habits never die. I could hear my dad’s heavy footfalls behind me. No doubt he was cussing under his breath with each clap of his boots against pavement. The seven Terminators flanking Mom snapped their heads around and fixed their eyes on us. It probably scared the hell out of Dad, this being his first time, but I was used to it by now. Ignoring them, knowing they would remain still and simply watch me, I came to a stop an arm’s length from her.
“Hey, Mom.” I pulled the ball of cloth from under my arm and twisted it nervously in my hands. “How’ve you been?”
“Kasey,” Dad inhaled again. He had stopped several feet behind me. Rookie.
Of course Mom didn’t answer me. She never did. She didn’t even recognize me, but that didn’t matter. She reacted as she had the previous visits: feet spreading, eyes narrowing, and knees bending. Preparing for an attack, most likely.
“Kasey, step back,” Dad cautioned.
I ignored him. “Brought you something this time.” I unfolded the cardigan in my hands and held it out to her. “It’s getting colder. Thought you might need this.”
Her eyes flicked down to the garment a second before returning to mine.
“It’s okay. I know you don’t understand.”
I inched closer to her, holding the sweater out, moving so slowly Jake would have been exploding with impatience had he been there. Of course, if he had been there, I’d be on the receiving end of a vulgar tirade right about now. Her eyes shifted, watching my movements with the sharpness of a skilled hunter.
“Kasey…please,” Dad pleaded, his hushed voice rising in pitch.
I eased her hand into the first sleeve. “It’s okay, I’ll do it for you.” Slowly, slowly, I stepped behind her and pulled that half of the cardigan up.
Mom didn’t move.
It was rose colored. I remember it being her favorite. During one of my early trips back into Gibson the first thing I did was go to my parents’ house. Seemed logical. If the Terminators were “programmed” to return home, why not check out the house she’d lived in? Eventually I began poking around, looking through things to kill the time, and ended up finding that sweater. There were four buttons on the front and two pockets. It really was very pretty.
If you could overlook the gore splashed and stained all over her dirty clothes, in her hair, and crusted on her mouth, she looked nice wearing it.
Little by little, I moved around to her other side, snaking her hand into the other sleeve, until I stood facing her. I adjusted and pulled the sweater snug, making sure it was presentable. Her companions continued monitoring me and Dad, who had fallen silent, but otherwise paid me no mind.
I took a deep breath, met her gaze, and nodded. “Alright. Be safe out there.” Then I turned my back on them and walked away.
“Kasey—” Dad began, cut off when I brushed his arm in my hurry to get away. He hung back a moment, most likely saying whatever sort of silent goodbye to his wife he thought appropriate, then hurried to catch up.
“I just don’t want to watch the next part, that’s all.” I rubbed my cheeks, harder than what was needed, before he could see the tears.
Dad kept pace next to me through the high grass. It whipped and scratched at my hands. I wasn’t running away. I knew Mom and the others weren’t pursuing. But I wasn’t lollygagging around either. I knew what my brother would look like when he came out of the store. Mostly I didn’t want Dad to see it. The wind picked up as we were leaving the field and climbing the hill leading into the woods.
“Kasey,” Dad panted. I didn’t slow down. “Kasey, stop.” He grabbed at my arm and caught my jacket sleeve. I jerked away. He didn’t bother repeating himself.
I kneeled down on one knee between a pair of rocks once we crested the top of the low ridge. I hadn’t brought binoculars on this trip. I knew it would be my last and I didn’t want my final memory of them to be tainted with blood. Dad squatted down nearby, giving me a bit of space. He understood. I kept quiet until I could see their small forms moving away, back toward the center of town.
“You think she’ll be okay?” I asked.
Dad sighed and wiped one large hand over his mouth. “Yeah, they’ll both be okay.”
“How do you know?”
His silence prompted me to turn, placing my back to the rock and my eyes away from town.
“Dad, how do you know they’ll be okay?”
He seemed at a loss for words. He stared at me a long time, his face unreadable but his eyes searching. He settled into a weak smile and stood, reaching his hand down to me. I took it.
“Let’s go home.”
