by L. L. Muir
He broke the seal. Black ash smeared across his desk. Digging through the mess, he found an unburned section. His name, in his own handwriting, sat next to a large red ‘A’.
Good ol’ Mr. Evans. Fear and fight, buddy.
Skye came in late.
“Miss Somerled, take roll.” The sub didn’t even look up.
Optimum Suggestor, at it again?
He raised an eyebrow at her as she passed his desk.
She gave him a wink...a wink that ricocheted around in his chest like a sonar ping in a submarine.
Ho. Ly. Crap.
He had planned to have the whole ‘Host’ thing worked out before morning, but the second his feet hit the porch, it was all he could do to make it to his bed before crashing and burning. Then he’d slept as if he hadn’t slept for a couple of days, which he hadn’t.
So, on the way to school, he’d gone over the facts. She was as good as a ghost, surface tension or whatever aside, he hadn’t technically kissed her, or held her hand, or hugged her. Basically, he’d been giving a lot of PDA to a sheet, not the She-Casper underneath. It wasn’t as if she’d really felt it, he’d told himself.
So technically, there wasn’t any relationship to worry about. The sheet would be blown to bits one day, after his granddad’s prayers were answered. Or so he suspected. Then she’d pop up in a different town, the only thing unchanged about her would be her clothes and the crowd she would live with. If he passed her on the street, he’d never know it. She might even come back as an old woman.
Like the chick from Shangri La, Lo-Tsen, suddenly her true age.
Ew. Better not to think about that.
No, he was fine. He hadn’t been making out with a murderer, at least. That was good. And his granddad was safe with her. His mom was safe living next door to them. Everything was better.
Until she’d showed up that morning, looking as Skye as ever. No wrinkles, no age spots. No new face. Just the Skye-face that he spent all his free time waiting to get a glimpse of.
And then she’d winked.
He knew her well enough to suspect she’d “suggested” herself out of a tardy; she knew him well enough to know what he was accusing her of, without needing to read his mind. It was a soft spot. He loved having someone close enough to “know” him, to communicate with without talking, like his grandparents used to do.
Too bad it couldn’t and wouldn’t last.
The bell rang, and none too soon. Every time he picked a passage and started reading, it was about the woman, Lo-Tsen. And he could only picture Skye, trapped in a perfect prison, wanting to get out.
Did she ever think of getting out?
Was there an out?
As he gathered his crap from the desk and shoved it in his backpack, he pictured himself asking her, then imagined her answering like the Conrad character from the novel: Who would ever want to leave paradise?
Jamison looked for white in the hallway and found her near the main door. She grabbed his sleeve and pulled him outside, over onto the dying autumn grass.
She looked around and curious kids turned away.
“You’ll wear yourself out, with all that suggesting,” he teased.
She smiled, but briefly.
“I need your help.”
“Sorry?”
“I need you to skip the rest of your classes today. I’ll fix your attendance. Will you do it?”
“Yeah. What is it?”
For all he knew, her only problem in life was his granddad, and the occasional kidnapper next door.
“I need to visit another Somerled farm.”
Well, that didn’t sound fun at all. What if there were Lucas-types there who wouldn’t take kindly to him knowing exactly what they were?
“What has this got to do with Granddad?”
“Nothing, actually. I can’t explain now, but I need to get to one, and soon, before word spreads, or...or...I don’t know. I just need to get to one. Will you help me find one?”
“Skye, honey. It wouldn’t be hard. I’m sure we can find one online.”
“We don’t do online.”
“I know you don’t. But there are all kinds of conspiracy theorists out there who would keep tabs on them, I mean you, I mean—”
“You mean, us.”
“Yeah. I guess so.” It made him uncomfortable, lumping her in with a bunch of nameless, faceless...containers. “There’s a computer in the library we can use.”
Five minutes later they had the addresses of every known Somerled community, and some people who were suspected of being Somerleds incognito.
“Mennonites, probably.” Skye tapped the screen where the report read “black clothing.” “They call us Mennonites in White, and they’re called Somerleds in Black. People are foolish.”
“Well, where do you want to go first?”
“To check on Kenneth. Then let’s hit this one.” She circled an address on the short list they’d printed out. It was two hours away, at least, unless she was up for giving highway patrol officers some suggestions.
Jamison headed to the Recovery Center, to pay his namesake a visit and swear the old bugger to secrecy.
Skye stayed at the school for a few minutes, to suggest they both be pardoned for being absent the rest of the day, then she’d meet him at the center.
The morning was chilly, even though the sun had had a couple of hours to warm things up. There were still a few spots of morning dew on the sidewalk as Jamison headed past the cheery flower gardens that had to be as medicated as the patients; they showed no fear in the face of the coming winter though it was obvious some would not make it through to spring.
Just like Granddad, if they didn’t come up with a new plan soon.
The med-carts were humming, and by the looks of some of the cups, some of these poor folks were taking thirty different drugs a day. His granddad probably demanded whisky to get them all down. And oh, was Jamison glad he wasn’t the one to tell him he couldn’t have it.
Nurse Harmon probably enjoyed making him take the meds without.
Speak of the devil.
Nurse Harmon walked into room 124 and Jamison hurried so he wouldn’t miss the fur flying.
At first he thought he’d entered the wrong room and started backing out. There was no bed against the lighted headboard, no tartan blanket tossed over the back of the chair.
The nurse plucked some tissues from their box and honked her nose into them. She was crying.
“Cranky old bastard, anyway,” she muttered.
That’s when Jamison’s chest collapsed, crushing his heart into his spine, leaving no room for lungs, let alone air.
His granddad was dead?!
He grabbed his cell, turned it on, then choked on frustration. Why the hell hadn’t his mom tried to call him, leave a message, text, anything? What the hell was she thinking? That she was the only one who had the right to care about Granddad? That everyone else’s emotions were second to hers?
“Damn you!”
The nurse turned, her eyes wide.
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry. Not you.”
“Damn right, not me. What are you doin’ in here? Your mama forget something?”
“So, she was here?”
“This morning. You’re welcome to look around, but I haven’t seen anything of your grandpa’s.”
Jamison could feel his legs giving out.
“Do you mind if I just sit for a minute?”
“Go ahead. Don’t mind me.”
He nodded and lowered himself into the only chair in the room. It was cold. The whole room was cold.
Granddad! Why couldn’t he have had one last conversation with him? Why couldn’t they have talked about angels?
Skye would be coming. He’d have to break it to her. Anything would be easier than coming in and finding him gone, and facing the fact your mom was a selfish, thoughtless bitch who hadn’t even tried to call.
Mom had been gone before he was up. Had she kno
wn Granddad was in bad shape? Had she chosen to not take him along? Did she think he’d be in the way?!
So unfair.
He was angry and he was aware all that anger was being focused on his mom, but wasn’t it all her fault? All of it?
Suddenly he couldn’t wait to face her, to unload on her, but Skye would be coming and she’d need him. Mom might not, but Skye did. If only for a little while.
Wait.
Where was Skye? She should have only been a couple of minutes behind him. She couldn’t have...gone!
Was that why she had wanted to get to another farm so quickly? Because if she stuck around Flat Springs they’d put her in the middle of their sadistic circle and blow her to Heaven?
Did she want out?
The last Exploding Ceremony had happened at three in the morning. If it had to happen in the dead of night, the Somerleds couldn’t have sent her away already. They at least had to wait until night.
He and Skye had some time.
He couldn’t bring back his grandfather, couldn’t change the fact that he hadn’t been there for him, at the end. But he could be there for Skye.
And what if she did opt out of Shangri-La?
Of course she wouldn’t. He could never even suggest it to her. “I know I kidnapped you and threatened you, but why don’t you stick around for a while?”
Yeah right.
But he tucked the idea away, inside that box in his head, where he kept all uncomfortable thoughts for another day.
Jamison could sense her coming down the well-mopped hall. That tightness in his chest slacked off. His lungs inflated, his heart began to beat again, and all because she was there. How was he ever going to go on without that?
He slid into the hallway and held out his hands to her.
She smiled suspiciously and took them.
“What is it?”
“He’s gone, Skye. Granddad’s gone.”
His cell vibrated. A text.
“Shame on you, son.” The nurse bopped him on the head with a barf bowl—empty, thank goodness. “You’ve gone and made it sound like he died or somethin’.” She smiled at Skye—everyone always smiled at Skye, except guys with conspiracy theories who think she’s an alien. “He’s gone over to the hospital for a couple of days for some treatments. They’ve gotta keep him in a controlled environment for a little while, that’s all.”
The big woman took her pink plastic things and walked away, muttering “I’ll show ‘em a controlled environment. Send his raggedy Scottish ass back here and I’ll control him jus’ fine.” Nurse Harmon chuckled, low and throaty. Granddad probably liked that laugh.
“I need to sit down again.” He walked to a chair and fell into it, bruising the back of his thigh on the hardwood arm, but unable to care. “I thought he was dead. She was in there, sniffling. She said my mom was in there this morning, getting his things.” He felt his face get hot. “She didn’t tell me they were moving him.”
“Did you check your phone?”
“Yeah, I did.” He pulled it out, opened the text.
Come 2 the hospital when u get out. Daddy’s going 2 b here for a while.
It didn’t matter. He could go home and find a note stuck on his bedroom door saying “I’ll be moving Daddy to the hospital this morning. Come if you can,” and he would still be furious.
“Come on. Let’s get over to the hospital. I need to have a little chat with my mother.”
“I thought she didn’t like to be called Mother.”
“She doesn’t.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Jamison looked like he had the night before, when he’d been determined to do who-knows-what to find the truth about his friends. Skye was wary of taking his hand, but consoled herself in the fact that Jamison wasn’t mad at her this time.
At the hospital’s front desk the volunteer didn’t want to tell Jamison which room his granddad was in. Hippa rules, or something, she claimed. She had to call ahead and ask if it was all right to let them up. By the time they got off the elevator on the fourth floor, Jamison was mad at everyone.
Standing in front of her son, Raging Bull, Lori Shaw held out her arms. She should have run screaming.
Skye stood on the battle front. She had no choice; her fingers were entwined with Jamison’s and she didn’t want to draw his attention by removing them.
The fight, however, lasted less than a minute.
“Why didn't you tell me they were moving him? I went to the Recovery Center and his room was empty and the nurse said you'd been there this morning to get all his stuff. I thought he was dead!”
“Oh, Jamie!” His mom fell on his neck and sobbed. “I looked for you last night after Skye's family came looking for her, 'cause I'd forgotten to tell you, but I couldn't find you. I sent you a text. I thought you wouldn't check your messages until you were out of school.”
Unaware of the size of spoon, Lori fed her son enough guilt to shut him up for the rest of the day. If he’d never taken Skye to the tree house or skipped school, there would have been no miscommunication.
She and Jamison donned masks and gowns to get into the section of the hospital where Kenneth was staying, and even then they had to speak to him through a clear plastic wall. Jamison told him they'd come see him again when he felt better. He blinked a couple of times and moved a finger, but then he was out again.
His mom never asked why they were out of school so early in the day. She finally looked up when Jamison said he was going with Skye to another Somerled compound and wouldn't be back until really late.
She said it was best, that she'd be staying at the hospital late anyway, then hugged them both and went to the restroom. She probably needed to cry in peace.
Taking a road trip with Jamison was like riding home with the football team, after they'd lost “the big one” to a team on the other end of town. He rarely turned his head in her direction, and any questions she posed got only a grunt or an ‘I don’t know’ in reply. His face was flat and emotionless, even though she knew a mighty storm was raging behind it.
Skye considered getting a bus ticket for the return trip.
She didn't actually need Jamison to come with her, but it was nice not to be going alone. She might see a familiar face. After all, Marcus had frequently dealt with Somerleds in this area. But for the most part, she felt like a vampire, going to see other vampires. They were her own kind, but that was where it ended. There wasn’t much of a possibility of danger, though. No one would try to eat her mortal escort for a snack.
Surely.
They made good time without Jamison speeding too much. The gas station attendant couldn't stop staring, even while talking to them. He must have never seen a Somerled with a non-Somerled before.
Around one o’clock they started up the canyon. Half an hour later, they entered a glorious valley and Skye was grateful for the ability to appreciate the surreal shades of green that deepened with every mile. Vast fields of crops, and stock yards bursting with livestock lined both sides of the road up to the ranch house. The earth was so moist that their tires kicked up very little dust on the unpaved driveway that took them to the expansive front lawn. Jamison parked at the edge of the grass and they both climbed out.
A woman came out on the porch, wiping her hands, smiling at Skye, then frowning at Jamison.
“Don't worry, Jamison. They have no reason to mess with your memory,” Skye whispered across the car roof.
“Yet,” the woman hollered. “No reason yet.”
When it looked like Jamison was going to jump back in the car and drive away, the woman started laughing and waved them inside.
Skye was happy to see another Somerled woman. Already she’d proven friendlier than the one in Flat Springs.
The woman didn't wait at the door for them, so Skye opened the screen and walked inside, dragging a reluctant Jamison behind her. The entry was dim, in spite of the hour. More generous light and the sounds of activity drew them to the back of the house.
/>
Four women, besides the one who had greeted them, stood around high wood tables, cutting up pumpkins, separating the seeds, chopping up the sides. They were covered in orange up to their elbows, their short shirtsleeves rolled up like army recruits, their white aprons only white around the edges. Their hair was pulled up tight and covered with bandanas. All that was missing was a cigarette hanging between their lips and they'd look like a nineteen-forties ad for Uncle Sam, only they weren't manufacturing guns or ammo.
“Be careful.” One woman grinned. “Lanny reads minds whether you want her to or not. If you've got something to hide, better get out of the valley.”
The others laughed, including the one Skye suspected was Lanny.
Skye tried to picture the list of Somerled communities in her mind, trying to remember how far away the next one was.
“Too late, missy. I already know why you've come. No need to leave until we've got you straightened out.”
Lanny was still grinning. The others had stopped laughing and exchanged looks that made Skye change her mind—she was grateful there weren’t more females at home.
***
“You there.”
Jamison looked around. Lanny was glaring straight through him, making him feel as transparent as a ghost. He put a thumb up to his chest and hoped it wasn’t shaking.
“Me?”
“Yes, you. Get out of my kitchen. Go help the menfolk, if you can. We’ll deal with this one. Don’t need you in here, mucking things up.”
“No.” Jamison didn’t know where his sudden abundance of balls came from. He was just happy they’d arrived. “I’m not going anywhere without her. She’s not going anywhere without me.”
“Aw, look ladies. Ain’t he sweet? A regular Romeo.”
“More like a dog in love with a cat.” The tallest woman wiped her arm across her face. Jamison was glad the arm was orange, and now, so was the woman’s cheek.
Lanny laughed, and Jamison knew she’d read his thoughts.
He tried what he’d used on Lucas the night before, focusing on other things.
The road, the white line down the middle, the drying grasses along the side...the road, the white line, the grasses...
Lanny laughed again, then stopped like she’d hit a brick wall. “Son, I told you to get...out...of my...kitchen.”
