Things That Should Stay Buried

by Casey L. Bond

  I threw my Chucks on just in time to catch Kes as he left the bathroom, jogged down the stairs, and grabbed his keys. I followed him outside, throwing my backpack and gym bag into the back, and climbed into the passenger seat.

  Dark circles hung heavily under Kes’s eyes and he sat hunched over the wheel, visibly tense. Maybe that was what I was picking up on. He gripped the steering wheel instead of easing it around in lazy circles in the casual way he usually employed.

  Something was up. I wondered where he went last night. He wouldn’t tell me even if I asked, but I had to ask something. As I racked my caffeine-deficient brain for the right question, he steered into his assigned parking space.

  Before we exited the Mustang, I turned to him. “Do you feel weird?”

  He pinched his lips tight. “The harbinger has me on edge.”

  “Why?”

  “It was a message to me. A warning.”

  “What if you hadn’t been at the window to see it?” Crappy messaging system, if you asked me.

  “I still would have felt it,” he said, but didn’t elaborate.

  Could I be feeling it, too? Maybe being around Kes for so long had given me spidey senses or something.

  “What was the warning about?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not sure yet, but I’m going to find out who sent it and why.”

  “You didn’t find anything wrong last night when you left?” I hedged.

  “Nope. Nothing amiss.”

  He left it at that, and I was able to breathe somewhat easier. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread coursing through me. Maybe I was coming down with something. My head was starting to hurt, so yay for that.

  I should have gone inside and left him alone, but the warning bell hadn’t rung and I wasn’t ready to go in just yet. Besides, if I was tardy, I’d be lucky enough to avoid seeing those skanks we don’t speak of making out in the hallway. Kes flipped through various stations, stopping at every news outlet. We listened to lame news story after lame news story.

  Someone on Capitol Hill was misusing funds. Shocker.

  The local water company was planning to flush the lines next week. So we won’t have water that day, and gross water for at least another. Wonderful.

  What to eat to lower cholesterol.

  A tragic story of a man who killed his wife and then turned the gun on himself.

  Some ancient tomb was found in the deepest jungles of South America. Who cares?

  Over the radio noise, the bell rang out. We had fifteen minutes to get to first period.

  “I need to get to class,” I groaned, entirely not in the mood for school today.

  Kes didn’t unbuckle, but waited until I exited the car and grabbed my backpack from the back seat. Then he promised he’d see me at lunch and backed out of his space, speeding out of the parking lot. I wasn’t sure where he was going – yet again – but the bell rang again and I wasted no time hauling my butt to first period.

  If anyone noticed he’d skipped class, they wouldn’t say anything to him. Kes would just flash his smile at the school secretary and make an excuse, and she’d just erase the absence like it never happened. She never did that for me, or anyone else, for that matter.

  I slugged my way through my morning classes, unable to focus on anything but the strangeness unfurling in my midsection. By lunch, a headache had grown roots and pounded a steady drum beat against my skull.

  I couldn’t shake off the weirdness either. I tried to explain it away, telling myself it shouldn’t bother me. Some sort of celestial message may worry Kes a little, but I was convinced he would figure it out and eventually the headache would fade, or else Kes would work his mojo and send it packing. Things would go back to our abnormal normal and all would be well.

  Except it wouldn’t. I could feel it.

  It shouldn’t have been a surprise then, that the end of the world began on that beautiful spring afternoon, with the sun shining brilliantly in a vibrant, blue sky.

  On the surface, things looked normal. Bees were enjoying the bounty of sweet-smelling blooms on the trees that lined the common area; birds were tucking twigs into tightly bound nests, preparing for the next generation; and my peers were chattering about the latest test, prom and after-prom plans, and college acceptance letters when everything went to hell.

  Sitting at one of the concrete tables on a freezing cold bench, trying to soak in as much warmth from the sun as possible and sucking in cold air to help my head, I emitted as many ‘I want to be alone’ vibes as possible. My friends were stuck in study group hell somewhere in the bowels of the English wing, and I wasn’t about to go with them.

  I plugged my cell into an external charger and let the battery fill as I massaged my aching temples. Throughout the morning, my headache had steadily swollen into a migraine so intense even the backs of my eyes hurt.

  I swore, migraines were like hurricanes. When they started, they were just little storms with barely enough energy to hover offshore. Then the bastards built, spinning over the water, gaining strength. When they finally hit, even high-powered medicine was too weak to fend it off. This one was going to be a category five. I could feel it.

  “You okay, Larken?” Xavier asked as he passed by, concern knitting his dark brows. He’d bleached his longish hair, and to be honest, he looked hot. He had already earned quite a few appreciative stares from nearby females…

  I tried to smile and pointed to my head. He nodded knowingly. “Do you have medicine with you? I can give you a ride home if you need it.”

  “I took some before I came out here, but thanks,” I told him, wincing from the bright halo blazing above us.

  “Text me if you change your mind?” he asked.

  “I will, thanks.”

  He hesitated and gifted me with a small grin, and I couldn’t help but grin back. His lips were pretty. Not thin like some guys’, and a lovely, soft shade of blush pink. “I’m looking forward to this weekend,” he said.

  “Me too.”

  He lingered awkwardly. It was sweet. “Feel better soon,” he said, tapping the table to say goodbye.

  I thanked him again as he strode away.

  Apparently, talking to Xavier rid the atmosphere of my ‘I-wanna-be-alone-for-the-love-of-God’ vibes, because a girl made an abrupt beeline for my table after that. I internally groaned when she sat across from me, the food on her tray still steaming.

  Effing fajitas. When I didn’t have a migraine, I loved them. But not today. Today the pungent aroma turned my already queasy stomach. I was too tired to stand up and move away from her, so I covered my nose with the sleeve of my sweatshirt and closed my eyes.

  “Was that Xavier Dillon?” the girl asked, swiveling her head to look at his ass. Not that I blamed her. It was a nice ass.

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you and Brant break up? I heard he’s with Reagan Summers now,” she fished.

  I didn’t bother answering her. It was none of her business, and somehow she seemed to know anyway. I didn’t even know her name and she knew the details of my personal life. Or lack thereof.

  Speaking of the devil himself, Brant and his band of loyal followers sauntered out of the gym and passed my table. His hazel eyes found mine and I might have imagined the look of regret, but I was okay with that. He should feel bad for being just like his father, the man he said he hated and could never respect because of how he treated his mom.

  I fought back the urge to flip him the middle finger.

  My lunch hour was almost over and Kes was still missing in action. I squeezed my throbbing temples, wishing the girl, her fajitas, and this splitting headache would go away and that time could stop for a few minutes so I could sit in the fresh, cool air just a little while longer.

  The students of Ashburn High were divided into tragically stereotypical cliques. A group
of goth kids lingered near the corner of the building trying to hide the smoke billowing and strong, sweet scents from their vapes. Jocks tossed a Frisbee over the small crowds huddled around each table, purposely landing the disc in the center of the cheerleaders. I rolled my eyes as the girls flipped their hair and crossed their arms over their chests to make their cup sizes seem bigger. Not that the guys didn’t take the bait every time. They couldn’t see past their…

  The girl across from me began hacking, her eyes watering behind her thick-framed glasses. “Are you okay?” I managed to croak.

  She nodded, coughing into her fist. I was glad she was breathing, because I was in no shape to perform the Heimlich on this chick. After a minute, her coughing calmed and she caught her breath.

  She was an underclassman. Ninth, maybe tenth grade. And she was serious about highlighters and neon or white, lined and unlined index cards. Her textbook lay open and I saw that every sentence had been highlighted. Probably evidence of a last-ditch effort to study for finals. Still occasionally hacking, she flipped between it and her cards, the neon of which made me want to peel a layer off my corneas.

  At the table to my right, some girl gushed to her friends about some school she’d been accepted into that was halfway across the country. I couldn’t help but be jealous. We were all beyond ready to graduate, head to the closest beach for senior week, and then figure out what to do next. This girl knew where she’d be at the end of summer, which was miles ahead of me.

  Mom and Dad were pushing me (and Kes) to go to college. And I would… I just wanted to wait a few more weeks to see if I received any more acceptance letters – preferably one with a scholarship attached. I had been accepted to two in-state schools, but was holding out to see if any of the colleges I applied to out-of-state might be interested. Especially those with running programs. My personal records were among the best in the country.

  My cell phone buzzed on the concrete table, lit up by a news alert. I ignored it.

  But I couldn’t ignore the fact that phones all through the common area began to ding and rattle. When the vibrations and rings stopped, despite the mass of people and the din that filled the air only seconds ago, everything went silent.

  If anything was a harbinger – of change and of bad things to come – it was silence.

  “This has to be some sort of hoax,” the girl sitting across from me breathed, clutching her rose gold device in her palm. Her glossy black hair hid her expression, but not the fear in her tone.

  I finally looked at my phone’s screen and read the alert. Then I blinked and read it again to be sure of what I saw. My brows pinched painfully together.

  President has declared a state of emergency. Attacks of an unknown origin are occurring throughout the country. No matter where you are, if you are in the open, seek shelter immediately. Shelter in place until emergency services personnel inform you that it’s safe. This is not a test. Shelter in place immediately.

  “Aliens?” Brant joked from across the yard, earning obligatory but forced chuckles from his cronies.

  “Terrorists?” the girl across from me mused, glancing from her screen to me.

  My heart dropped. We’d learned about the attacks of September eleventh, two-thousand-one since we were kids, but there hadn’t been another attack on that scale since. The report said attacks of an unknown origin. How did they not know what was happening or where the attacks were coming from? Or were they just afraid to give details? Maybe the vagueness was an attempt to prevent mass hysteria. The thought freaked me out.

  The loudspeaker buzzed. “Shelter in place,” our principal announced. “This is not a drill. Get inside now!”

  Guys and girls, alone and clustered in groups, gathered their belongings and filed into the school. Some groaned as they slogged inside, while others walked quickly. We would all be directed toward our homerooms where attendance would be taken so they’d have numbers. Who was here. Who wasn’t. Who’d been here this morning and cut when they got the alert.

  Still, I wasn’t sure what was so urgent. We weren’t anywhere near a major city. I mean, Huntingdale was thirty miles away, but with a population of only thirty-six thousand, it didn’t qualify as a target on anyone’s list. Right?

  What if it was biological?

  Dad’s number lit up my phone as it vibrated in my hand. “Dad?” I answered.

  “Larken. You and Kes go—” The line went dead.

  I tried dialing him back, but it wouldn’t go through. I couldn’t even get a dial tone.

  Another round of murmurs suddenly flooded the Common. “The satellites must be down. I have no signal.”

  Neither did anyone else. The stragglers held their cell phones to the sky in a feeble attempt to get their devices a few feet closer to the masses of metal orbiting the earth. The whole thing screamed The Lion King. You know the part where the baboon holds Simba up to present him to the pride lands? The cell phones were the equivalent of Simba to every teen left in the Common. Including me.

  I brought the device down and checked my screen. No bars. No signal. No way to call Dad back, or call Kes for a ride home. I think that was what Dad was trying to say – for me to get Kes and go home now.

  Ignoring the lack of service, I typed a quick text to Mom. It failed to send.

  A shadow settled over me and the warmth from the sun evaporated. Kes was here. “It isn’t safe here. You have to come with me.”

  My heart began to pound. I took in the worry lining his forehead and his pinched-tight lips. “Do you know what this is?”

  He gave a grave nod.

  “Are we going home?” I asked, standing and hiking my backpack up onto my shoulder.

  He shook his head. “It’s not safe there.”

  It’s not safe there? It wasn’t safe here, or else he wouldn’t have come for me.

  “Well, where is safe?” I waited for him to answer, but he just growled in frustration. “Mom’s home. We need to get her. And Dad is across town at the garage. He just called and got cut off, but I think he wanted us to go home. He’ll probably head there, too.”

  He looked torn, staring toward town. “He won’t make it.”

  “Kes…”

  “If I can get them both, there’s a chance… Look, if I go for them, you have to do exactly as I say.”

  I nodded. “I will.”

  He tossed me his car keys and I caught them against my stomach. This was bad. “You want me to drive your precious?” Kes shot me an aggravated look before turning on his heel and striding toward the parking lot.

  Jogging was hard with a migraine. I winced as I rushed after him. “Kes,” I begged, the heel of my palm digging into my right temple. “Slow down.”

  “We’re out of time.”

  The underclassman girl with the fajitas and neon note cards rushed past me. The next thing I knew, her dingy messenger bag hit the ground and she was gone.

  Vanished.

  I stopped, gaping at the spot where she stood just seconds before.

  “Kes!” I shrilled, rushing to her bag. “The girl carrying this just freaking disappeared!” I held the bag up by the strap and waited. There was no way that just happened.

  No. Freaking. Way.

  I dropped her bag. The flap flipped open and a neon yellow highlighter spilled onto the sidewalk. The wind caught her note cards and scattered them over the sidewalk, then the lawn. They flipped end over end toward the parking lot.

  Kes grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the parking lot. “This is happening much faster than expected,” he muttered.

  4

  Kes waited as I adjusted the driver’s seat and mirrors and buckled up, nervously checking them all again. “I need you to drive fast,” he said.

  My hands became cold and clammy. My heart thundered. “Kes, I’ll wreck.”

  “Then go as fast as you feel
comfortable, but in the back of your mind remember that I gave you permission to haul ass. So if you get the notion to do so, you’ll get no crap from me. And if you wreck, just make sure you don’t hurt yourself or anyone else. I don’t care about the car.”

  Since when?

  “Where am I even going?” I asked, scared and exasperated.

  “Go to the cemetery.”

  A lump formed in my throat. Why the cemetery?

  “I know you know the mausoleum. You followed me there on more than one occasion when I snuck out, and I let you so you’d know where to go if anything like this ever happened. Why do you think I didn’t just disappear at home and reappear there? I wanted you to know where it was safe. Now go.” He slapped the top of the door. “I’ll meet you there.”

  “With Mom and Dad,” I added pointedly.

  He nodded, but I saw the worry written all over his face. What in the hell was happening where he thought he might not reach our parents in time to save them? Kes could blink there in an instant, but what if they’d already disappeared like that girl?

  I backed slowly out of the parking space and slid the gear into drive.

  If the cemetery was safe, and if I wouldn’t disappear from there, maybe it was some sort of sacred ground or something. In any event, I needed to haul ass like Kes said. Only, I was terrified. I gripped the wheel until my knuckles turned white.

  I couldn’t exactly speed through town. There was too much traffic, even on the tiny, neighborhood streets. People were either oblivious to the directive to shelter in place or had decided to leave town. That technically included me, but I needed to get to the graveyard fast, whereas these people were driving like they were already dead.

  Kes and Mom and Dad would probably beat me there at this rate. Which was good. I just hoped I didn’t disappear while I was driving. This felt like Avengers: Infinity War had come to life. I quickly searched the sky for Thanos’s ship, but could only see clear, blue sky.