Apocalypse For Realz

by Bella Street

Seffy could only hope she had the right house. She'd come to the same one as before, having no other option. She leaned toward the driver from the curb. “Can you wait for me, please?”

  “Sure, but make it snappy. I got the meter running.”

  Seffy straightened and took in the sight of the trim Tudor-style house with the white Cadillac in the driveway. Her heart thudded dully in her chest and her stomach pretzeled itself into knots. How could she do this? How could she face them?

  But how could she not?

  Taking a deep breath, Seffy walked up the brick pathway and up onto the cement step. The small porch held two wicker chairs and a small wicker table, flanked by pedestals holding lush fern plants.

  Before she could raise her hand to knock, the door swung open. A tall man faced her through the screen door, a stranger, and yet in some way, familiar.

  “We don't want any.”

  He slammed the door in her face. Seffy blinked, unsure what to do next. Should she just walk away? But they had a right to know.

  She knocked again.

  The man's voice came from behind the door. “I said go away!”

  Seffy closed her eyes. How could she fail at this point? If she had some paper maybe she could leave a note. But that was so cold. She turned away from the door, intent on asking the cab driver if he had a paper and pen.

  “Miss?”

  Seffy swung around and saw a small woman from behind the screen door, eyeing her nervously. “I apologize for that. We are inundated with salesmen and...other people here. Are you selling anything?”

  Seffy numbly shook her head, shocked at the woman's resemblance to Trent.

  A ferocious wave of grief overtook her. Casting about for some form of support, she staggered to the porch column and leaned against it, afraid her knees would give way.

  “Oh, miss, are you all right?” The woman opened the screen door a few inches.

  “It's just another one of those druggies. Get away from the door and come back inside before you get us killed!”

  “I'm sorry,” Seffy said, through gasps. “It's just that...you look so much like him.”

  The door closed. Was she gone? She couldn't blame her. I probably do look like a druggy.

  A moment later the door opened and the woman stepped onto the porch, holding out a box of tissues.

  Seffy was afraid to look at her, but was unable to stop herself. The woman was an older, softer female version of her Trent—same gray eyes, same dark blonde hair.

  She plucked at a tissue and blotted her eyes and nose.

  “Can I ask who you're referring to?” the woman asked timidly.

  Seffy pressed herself against the column, forcing herself upright. She pulled in great gulps of air, trying so hard to steady her nerves.

  “You don't happen to be talking about my son, Trent, do you? It's been a while since I heard from him.”

  Seffy gritted her teeth, dreading the task of bearing such bad news.

  “You see, he usually calls me fairly often and it's been quite a while since the last time.”

  Seffy closed her eyes briefly before opening them. “I'm sorry for going to pieces like that. My name is Seffy...Ellison. I'm Trent's wife.”

  The woman's eyes widened in shock. “He got married? When?”

  “Nobody would've married that drugged out excuse for a human being,” came a voice from somewhere inside the house.

  The man's bitterness galvanized Seffy. “Trent was going through the methadone program to get clean from heroin...he didn't tell you that?”

  The woman shook her head.

  “Maybe he wanted to see you after he completed it.” She licked her lips. “He was so so ashamed of his addiction.”

  Trent's mother nodded, her hand to her mouth. “That sounds like him. It also sounds like...he's been busy with other things.”

  There was no snark in the woman's tone. Just bewilderment. “The wedding...” Seffy wadded the tissue in her hands. “It kind of took us by surprise.”

  The woman's gaze dropped to Seffy's midsection. “Oh, is there a child?”

  “No,” Seffy said quickly. Then she allowed that notion to burgeon for a brief moment.

  Trent's child.

  She'd never thought much about children. But the woman's question combined with Bruno's assertion made her wonder if it was a possibility down the line. But even if Fenn tried to put everything into place, there were no guarantees.

  No guarantees of one single thing.

  “No baby,” she said quietly.

  The woman nodded though she clearly didn't understand. “Where is he? My son?”

  Seffy tried to fight new tears and failed. Wordlessly, she tugged her necklace out from under her shirt and watched as Trent's mom zeroed in on the large wedding band. When the woman met her gaze, the blood had drained from her face.

  “I had a dream,” she said, swaying.

  Alarmed, Seffy pushed away from the pillar and gently took the woman by the arm.

  “It's still as vivid as the night I dreamed it. He was telling me goodbye.”

  Oh God. “I'm so sorry.”

  Large tears rolled from her eyes.

  Seffy led her over to a couple of porch chairs. Once she had her settled, she sat down next to her in the other chair.

  After blotting her face, the woman looked up at her. “On some level, I know you're telling the truth. I've felt he was gone since that dream, but I kept hoping...praying.” She took a shuddering breath. “How did he die?”

  “He was protecting me.” Seffy bit her lip hard. “Someone shot at me, but he got in front of me and...” She couldn't finish.

  A strange look crossed the woman's face as she stared off into the middle distance for a long time. She swallowed. “Then he died well.” Her gray eyes flashed up, flooded with fresh tears. “I was always so afraid they'd find him dead from an overdose.”

  Seffy touched her arm. “Trent got clean, Mrs. Ellison. You need to know that. He was a good man. He was good to me. Please tell his father that.”

  She nodded solemnly then took a shuddering breath. “When...did you two meet?”

  This was impossible to answer. Seffy couldn't be a hundred percent sure today was the same day she left. She left lemons in the sink most mornings. She threw her clothes on the floor most days. And what if Trent's mom wanted specific dates?

  God, it would look like she was lying, coming up with some unprovable story with the intention of hurting an already hurting mother of a wayward son. This was a terrible idea.

  She pulled in a breath. “We met at the tail end of his treatment. But...but I didn't like him so much at first.”

  For the first time, his mother smiled a little. “He could have that effect on people. He didn't have the easiest life.”

  Seffy took the woman's hand, needing her to hear her next words. “Trent was grieved at the way he treated you and your husband, Mrs. Ellison. He'd want you to know he was sorry and that he knew he'd squandered a good upbringing.”

  The woman's bleak gaze changed as she dropped her head into her hands and began to sob—as hard as Seffy had sobbed just a few minutes earlier.

  Seffy's heart broke at the woman's sorrow. She could only imagine Trent's mother living in agony and guilt, worrying, wondering about her only child.

  She lifted her head some moments later, her face blotchy and strained. “He really said that?”

  “Yes.”

  Mrs. Ellison clutched onto her hand like it was a lifeline. “Thank you, Seffy. You don't know what that means to me.”

  The action brought a crinkle from her hoodie pocket. Seffy remembered the photos. She slowly pulled them out and handed them to Trent's mother. “These are from our wedding day. I know they're a bit bent up, but I like having them near me.”

  The woman took the stack with trembling hands. She looked at each one, her eyes wide, her mouth shaped in an 'o.'

  When she'd gone through them all, she started over. Finally, she lifted her gaze
to Seffy. “Are you some kind of angel?”

  “No.” Seffy looked down at her hand, at the gold ring on her finger. “I'm just a girl who loved your son.”

  Mrs. Ellison touched one photograph showing Trent's smiling face. “Whatever he was looking for, he found it in you.”

  Seffy's eyes burned. “I felt the same way.” She blinked away the moisture in her eyes. “I don't know how to go on without him.”

  The cab driver honked suddenly, making Seffy jump. She turned to Trent's mother. “I'm sorry, I have to go. And I'm truly sorry to have to bring you this news.”

  Mrs. Ellison looked confused. “Are you going somewhere?”

  “I'm...I'm leaving town.”

  She put her hand on Seffy's arm. “Is there anything I can do? You're welcome to stay with us. Anything you need...”

  Seffy shook her head. “Thank you, but I have to go.”

  The woman handed back the photos. Seffy took them for a moment, then pulled out her favorite—the almost kiss. She handed the rest back to Trent's mother.

  “Are you sure?”

  Seffy nodded and slid the photograph in her pocket.

  Mrs. Ellison put her arms around her and hugged her for a long time. “You have given me a precious gift.”

  Seffy hugged her back. When she stepped away, she attempted a small smile. “Then we're even.”

  She left the woman standing on the porch, looking small and forlorn and lost, clutching the pictures to her chest.

  As she walked to the cab, Seffy knew this had been a terrible idea. How long before her strange appearance and barely-there explanation no longer satisfied?

  How long before Trent's mother called the police, looking for some kind of report? How would it feel where there was no trace of a legal marriage, no hospital treatment, no death certificate? When there were more questions than answers?

  But I've done all I can. And maybe, maybe she'll have a small measure of peace.

  It's all I can do.

  A hollowness plagued her as she climbed back in the cab and gave the driver directions to the tanning salon.

  Seffy removed her necklace and pulled Trent's ring from the chain. After sliding it onto her middle finger next to her own band, she put the necklace back around her neck.

  The driver stared at her in the rearview mirror. “After that, you're going to go tan?” He pulled away from the curb. “I just don't get you self-centered kids these days.”

  ***

  “This doesn't make any sense,” Gareth said, pacing the confines of his room.

  “It does if you think about it,” Addison said, slumped in the chair, her head in her hand. “But whether it makes sense or not, this is our chance to go.”

  “Why now? Why all of a sudden after months of nothing? Why send Seffy apart from us? If they were using her to test the time-travel, why? She would never consent to being a guinea pig—not after what the compound put her through.”

  Addison suddenly stood up, her face flushed. “Maybe it's what she had to do to escape what you wanted to do to her. The compound is one thing, Gareth, but your actions were a betrayal.”

  “What are you talking about?” Lani said through a haze of tears.

  “The room where Cynthia and Eva were shot. Gareth had Seffy there to have her lobotimized.” She lifted her chin. “I found the instruments in your room.”

  Lani frowned. “I thought we decided against it.”

  Gareth felt his face stiffen with anger. “That's not what—”

  “Sometimes 'nothing' is preferable to a hammer and a spike in a person's brain!”

  “Accuse all you want, Addison. At least I was trying something while you've done nothing.” He blew out a breath. “Besides, I was trying to say that I decided against the procedure and planned to use a drug intervention instead.”

  “You were trying to alter her brain, Gareth. What gives you the right because you didn't like someone's behavior?”

  The words jarred him, their meaning sharp and painful. God, what was I thinking?

  He braced his hands against the desk, struggling to make sense of the riot of emotion in his heart and mind. “All I wanted was for Seffy to find peace.”

  “She did, with Trent,” Addison said as if she'd heard the words from Seffy herself.

  Hell, maybe she had.

  The redhead approached him, touching his arm with tentative movements. “Right now, I'm more concerned about you,” she said softly as if her anger had drained away. “I want you to find peace.”

  He thought about her words. But while Seffy suffered, it was impossible. It was her suffering that kept him awake at night—her pain that bound his heart. His respiration kicked up as he grappled with the truth through the fog of self-deception.

  “Guys,” Lani said on a whisper. “It's time to go.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Seffy felt like a tattered rag—her emotions were shot, her heart ached, and now she was marinating in a bath of adrenaline. She'd been fooling herself to think she had any choice in the matter. Fenn had known that too. Despite sending her out on her own, he'd known she'd do what was necessary.

  In the abstract, the choice was selfish—just like the cab driver had groused. But it sure as hell felt like a sacrifice.

  As she watched the shops and restaurants and tourists pass by on the way to the salon, she wondered if it would hurt.

  She didn't want it to hurt, didn't want another moment's pain.

  But wouldn't it hurt even more to know she was jeopardizing her own second chance? In the same way she told Fenn not to screw it up, the onus was just as much on her.

  She glanced down at the deepening bruises on her skin.

  Therein lay the unspoken reason she couldn't just deal with Verity and pick up where she left off in life. Olga and Fenn had hinted at it. Trent also had, in regards to himself. If her blood killed, it was only a matter of time before it killed her, too.

  And if she decided to stay in this life, it was only a matter of time before her blood chemistry was discovered—before certain people wanted it bad enough to murder. She couldn't allow Gareth and the girls to be in danger.

  No, that simply would not do.

  In the tangent world, she'd been gunned down in the street. Maybe like Trent's exit, hers could be on her terms as well. Maybe her last act would benefit the others in some way, instead of sucking the life out of those around her.

  Maybe even Gareth would find a measure of peace.

  As much as she longed to disappear into the crowd and pretend the compound was some bad mental trip, she knew this town. West Hollywood had never been home. Same with Montana. She'd never belonged anywhere—until she'd found a haven in Trent's arms.

  Would he find her the next time around? Was there some way she could leave guidance so he could find her two decades later? Fenn had made it sound like new paths would be etched in time, the old, reversed from murder and manipulation.

  And she'd play her own part in that.

  But even if her future sucked, she'd be okay if Trent found her.

  If he did.

  There were so many choices that had to be made for everything to work out. Time was like a house of cards, depending just as much on the next card as the foundation of previous moves. There were no guarantees, no matter how badly she wanted one.

  Seffy thought of Verity. Did the blonde bombshell know she was coming? Had she prepared for this moment?

  Would Seffy's attempt to close the time-tear constitute murder? Or would it save lives because Verity would be stopped from sending assassins through time?

  How many had died because of Verity's machinations? Directly or indirectly because of the series of events had she put into motion?

  Clay.

  Jared.

  Brenda.

  Cynthia and Eva.

  Assorted bad guys.

  Trent.

  She swallowed. And that was just in this tangent.

  Would her own actions really change
anything?

  I don't know. I just don't know. I don't even know how this will go down.

  “Is this the place?”

  The cab driver's voice brought her out of her reverie.

  Seffy looked out the window at the neon palm trees and flashing lights. “Yeah.”

  She clambered from the cab and paid him off, with enough of a tip that he might regret his comment about selfishness.

  She didn't want to be selfish but it was hard to do anything else when survival was on the line.

  Or something worse.

  She pulled Trent's phone from her pocket. She'd cut it close—just five minutes to spare. Seffy pulled out the photograph. With one last look, she touched her lips to the image and slipped it inside her shirt next to her heart.

  ***

  If we get there and she's not there, I'm coming back,” Gareth said, clenching his jaw.

  “And how would you accomplish that?” Addison said, hooking her arm through his. “I'm telling you, she's not here.”

  “So there's no way back here?” Lani said, sounding lost. “I thought there was a way back. Magic words or something.”

  “I'm sorry,” Eugene said, “it takes coordination on both ends to make time-travel possible.”

  “Where's Fenn?” Addison said sharply. “You sent Seffy and Trent to the wrong tangent last time.”

  Eugene bristled, shoving his glasses up his nose. “There was a mix up at the end. I assure you that will not be the case this time.”

  Gareth looked at the computer lab staff tapping away on their computers. Were they programming time-travel coordinates? Or making sure the heating and cooling system was online? He glanced at Eugene. “You know that paperwork you gave me was bogus.”

  Eugene's face turned a bright shade of red. “I don't understand what you mean. Perhaps I forwarded you the incorrect information.”

  Gareth closed his eyes. What did it really matter? Everything had been lies since day one. Everyone had been liars, too. He'd even lied to himself. “Just push the damn big red button and let's get on with this farce.”

  “It's not a red button—”

  “Just get us out of here!” Addison yelled.