by Elaria Ride
Nick doesn’t hear me. He’s still muttering and kicking the tree stump in random places. If he’d paid a lick of attention to any of the trainings we’ve attended, he’d understand he’s doing everything wrong. If you’re trying to get a branch down, you need to be patient. In most cases, the branch will tell you where it’s ready to fall — and when.
And right here, right now? Yeah… we don’t have long.
Which means I need to hurry the fuck up.
“You’re doing all of this wrong,” I inform him, not bothering to keep the condescension from my voice. I come to a stop about ten feet from the base of the trunk, crossing my arms over my chest. “I guess that’s what I’d expect, though, from someone who always mooched instead of contributing.”
My words have the desired effect. Nick freezes on the spot and turns to me, gripping his gun even tighter. “What did you say?” he demands, his voice quaking with rage.
I arch an eyebrow. “I said,” I repeat slowly, “that my parents did everything for you. Which you seem to have forgotten. My mom and dad always went out of their way for you and Anastas—”
But with that, something inside of him snaps… something I hadn’t seen coming. In an instant, he transforms from a maniacal weirdo into someone wholly capable of murder.
“DON’T SAY HER NAME!” Nick roars, his yellow teeth gritted. His face crumples into a glare so malicious and cutting that I know there’s something wrong. The dude is shaking in place, his whole body tense, focusing on me as if I’m the sole cause of every terrible thing that’s ever happened.
Inexplicably, Nick is the one to break this bizarre standoff. After a few more heated seconds, he throws his head back and releases a primal, murderous scream, his right fist still clenched around the pistol grip
Wow.
The echo of the shriek is more terrifying than any of the gunshots he’s fired. It’s still bouncing off the mountains when I glance back at Autumn. She greets me with a look of wide-eyed horror, and I know we’ve reach the same conclusion: This dude needs help.
“Don’t you EVER fucking say her name!” Nick repeats, chest heaving, face flushed.
I keep my voice even. “Why not?”
Apparently, this isn’t what he wanted to hear.
Nick charges at me with another scream, his face blotchy with rage. He doesn’t stop moving until his shoes are touching mine, until his face is millimeters away from the center of my chest, so close I can smell his BO.
“Because,” Nick seethes, his reptilian eyes focused on mine, “she’s DEAD. She’s fucking DEAD, Asher! AND YOU KNOW WHY?” He cuts off with a barking laugh, throwing his hands in the air. “Because she got turned into a druggie whore! A druggie FUCKING whore — just like my mother!”
Oh.
I suck in a breath that turns to ice on its path down my chest. I stare at Nick, my mind suddenly teeming with memories of the petite brunette I’d known for most of my life. I can see Anastasia Ricci, plain as day, her hair drawn in a tight braid. She was always so sweet, so respectful…
“W-when did this happen?” I stammer, so overcome I almost forget what I’m doing.
“When we went to LA,” Nick sneers, baring his teeth, “she met Joshua. Fucking Joshua!”
He pokes me in the sternum with the barrel of the gun, his eyes regaining that maniacal glint. “It wasn’t long before he had her out all night, doing drugs, fucking everything up! EVERYTHING!” He finishes with a shriek so high-pitched a couple of birds take the cue to get the hell out of a nearby tree. My fist clenches at the renewed memory of the spotted owl he’d murdered, just feet from where I’m standing…
“Then I found her,” Nick pants, his chest heaving again. The words rush so quickly I’m sure he’s bottled them up for a long, long time. “I fucking found her. DEAD! In OUR apartment! Which we rented with money we got from OUR fuck-up of a father, too!”
Shit. This explains quite a lot. Why my parents hadn’t been able to find Anastasia. Why Nick had come back a different person. Why he’s been so markedly off over the past five years.
“You know the best fucking part, though?” Nick adds, the gun still digging into my chest. “The best fucking part is that after she died, I did some research!”
He pauses, his eyes raking over my face. It takes a second to realize he wants me to supply the follow-up.
“Oh. Um… what kind of research?” I ask, sounding weaker than I’d like. This is a hell of a lot to process, all at once.
“Well,” Nick says, a ghost of a smile flicking across his face, “You know how my father put his dick in everything that moved? And don’t pretend you’ve forgotten, Asher. We all know just how fucked up my life was. But what we didn’t know was that… guess what?” He pauses for a dramatic gasp, his mouth making an exaggerated O. “I had another sibling lying around!”
Nick cuts off with another hysterical laughing fit — only this time, it’s more disturbing than ever before, because he doesn’t break eye contact. His hollow, humorless laughter sends shivers up my spine… it’s like he’s trying to convince himself that anything about this is funny.
“What do you think I found, Asher?” he demands, baring his teeth at me again. “What the FUCK do you think I found?”
Nick pauses while I shift uncomfortably, searching for any hint of a rhetorical question. The branch releases periodic cracking sounds, but I see now why Nick didn’t notice before; the dude is so absorbed in his own head that I doubt he sees (or hears) much at all.
“BUZZZZZZ!” he shrieks a half-second later, imitating a game shower timer. “TOO LATE! You lose! Ha-fucking-HA, it’s over for you, Asher Bosco — cause guess what?! JOEY COLLINS WAS MY FUCKING HALF-BROTHER!”
With that, Nick dissolves into another peal of fake hysteria, this time slapping his knees for dramatic effect.
Holy mother of…
For the second time today, I feel my breath being sucked from my chest, my head spinning, as everything slides into place…
“When your precious father called me again a few weeks after,” he spits, “I knew it was a sign. I knew I’d get to repay your fucking kindness. So I spent five years — five long, awful years — waiting and waiting and waiting!”
Fucking hell, I think, surprised my brain still works… no wonder. My earlier observations hadn’t been an exaggeration; he really does blame me for everything that’s gone wrong in his life.
“So I waited and waited,” Nick continues, jabbing the gun so hard it’s bruising, “to get my revenge, because now you’ve killed my ONLY family! YOU, Asher fucking Bosco! You’re a murderer!”
Then he leans back, hocks a loogie, and spits right in my face. I shudder, raising a hand to wipe as much away as I can.
“Sadly,” Nick says, marginally happier, “there’s not much you fucking care about! Only trees! Do you know how hard it is to take a man down when all he cares about is trees? But six months ago, I got a lucky break!”
He jerks his head in Autumn’s direction before continuing his rant. “I knew you’d fall for that fat bitch. I just knew it! You’re allll about finding that fat pussy… just like your dad. Just like Joey. Ha!” He screams and throws his head back again. “Not my fault you’re all too busy fucking fat pieces of lard to—”
“—That’s enough!” I boom. Autumn groans from beside me. Damn. I know better than to give bullies the satisfaction.
Nick’s face splits into another green, nasty grin. “I knew you wouldn’t deny it,” he says in that same cloying, singsong voice he’d used in Mercy’s Diner. “I’m not sure how you found that pussy, though,” he adds, poking me in the chest again with the barrel.
“Or maybe,” I breathe, meeting his gaze, “maybe you’re just fucking jealous.” I drop my voice to a growl; I’m going to hit below the belt, but this is my best shot. This is my best chance at distracting him from the cracks and splinters above. “Because now there’s no one left who loves you, Nick Ricci. And you know it.”
I don’t thi
nk I’m imagining the icy chill that hovers in the air after my words. I’ve been uncharacteristically cruel, more unkind than necessary… but dammit, I’m tired of playing this game. Tired of being under his control.
This takes him aback. Nick shudders, frozen in place, and I seize the chance to take three steps back… to align myself perfectly, right where the tree limb should fall…
My lure works.
Nick raises a shaking hand and aims his gun right at my face. “Play time over,” he grits, his mouth drawn in a thin line.
I raise my hands in surrender and back up, getting him as close as I can to the trunk. Nick might not be a bad shot at close range, but I guarantee he’s not great at getting moving targets. Hell, I’m not, and I’m an outdoorsman.
“Stay fucking STILL!” Nick shrieks, shooting his gun into the air. The shot echoes into this sky, and even more birds scatter from the tree. His eyes follow the movement of the fleeing animals… but then he lets out that creepy giggle one more time.
No…
Another wave of nausea ripples through my stomach. Nick’s eyes land on Autumn. He finally remembers — or perhaps finally realizes — that she’s also here. And with a sickening clarity, I know he understands that hurting her would be worse than hurting me.
Fuck.
“Ooooh! I’m gonna give you a choice!” Nick cackles, whipping his head back to face me. “You can either show me how to take the branch… or I’ll kill this piece of shit, instead.” He jerks in head in Autumn’s direction, his gun still pointed straight at her.
My response is automatic. The thought of living another second without her, of spending another day away from her embrace, is enough to disintegrate any hint of a plan I once had.
“I’ll help,” I whisper, raising my hands in surrender. “The whole tree… all the trees. Take the whole park, take—”
“ — UGGGHHH!” Nick cuts me off with a dramatic groan. “You’re fucking predictable, Asher. Why do you even care about that fat waste of SPAAACE?” He draws the last word out over several seconds — and then inexplicably leans back, raises his gun in the air, and fires it off once more.
Autumn flinches at the sound; between her fear and the last weight comment, I’ve had enough.
“BECAUSE I LOVE HER!” I roar, blood pounding in my ears.
There’s a pause; Autumn shifts in place. I’ve never said those words before. Not to anyone.
But they’re true, aren’t they? Yeah. I swallow, staring at my boots. They’re true.
“Goodie.” Nick turns to me with that familiar evil smirk.
Shit. How the hell did I forget the cardinal rule of dealing with bullies? Never reveal your biggest weakness. Never play into their hand. But Autumn is my weakness. There’s nothing automatic left.
“I knew it!” he cackles, throwing his head back again. “You’d fucking pick that tub of lard over—”
“HEY!” I shout, my fists clenching at my sides. “Say whatever the fuck you want about me — and take the tree! Take the whole fucking forest! But Autumn?” I shake my head. “Don’t you dare go there!”
Even I’m surprised at the venom in my voice.
“Don’t you dare make this another attempt at shaming her, Nick!” I snarl, wanting nothing more than to beat that grin from his face. “Don’t you dare say another fucking word!”
There’s another pause.
Nick raises his gun, his snake-like eyes flickering with even more malice and repulsion. The red cedar branch is cracking madly by now, so loudly and intensely that anyone in their right mind would know what’s about to happen.
But this dude isn’t in his right mind. Not even close.
As if proving this, Nick curls his lip in a final sneer as he turns the gun away from me… and points it towards Autumn. I watch in slow-motion, caught between horror and rage as his mouth sets in a firm line, his hand squeezing the trigger.
Then three things happen in very quick succession: I rush towards Nick, body-slam into his side, and knock him to the ground. But not before his gun fires off, right into the fracture he’d accidentally caused on the old branch.
I watch the branch fall like I’m living at half speed, my eyes darting between Autumn’s beautiful, terrified face, Nick’s bug-eyed expression of disbelief, and the enormous, advancing branch — one that’s at least ten feet tall, barreling towards me and Nick at a pace far greater than I can even attempt a dodge or deflection.
No... it’s coming.
It’s going to hit.
Horror courses through me as the world swims before my eyes — but it’s not horror at the thought of my own death. It’s horror that I’ll never see her again, that I’ll never get to share my life with the woman who has changed mine...
I hear Autumn’s pained scream of my name the second the branch collides with my body… I let out another roar as my limbs go numb, as my chest goes heavy. Then there’s a police siren that stretches on for hours and hours, echoing into the distance, ricocheting through my head…
And that’s the last thing I remember before the world goes black.
Epilogue
Autumn
Cindy, my forest green SUV, rolls into the parking lot at exactly 7:05 a.m., just as she has for the past seven months.
And I pull right up to Charles, just as I have for the past thirteen months.
A smile flits across my face as I put Cindy in park. I don’t turn off the ignition, though — not yet. Moments like these remind me of why I love having time to myself. The surrounding scenery is a far cry from the deep, dark mornings in the dead of winter. Mornings that were once so foreign and new.
As soon I experienced the full progression of spring (ha!) and summer (double ha!) in Biggal Mountain, I immediately knew which seasons I preferred… but I can’t deny that winter will always hold a special place in my heart.
Simply put, summer here is gorgeous, even if it remains a little colder than I’d expected. Now that I’ve lived here for over a year, though, I have a much deeper appreciation for how it’s possible for parking lots to freeze over, even in August!
I peer out of Cindy’s windshield and take a glimpse at the visitor’s center. The sun is just yawning through the clouds, illuminating the squat building in hues of pink and orange.
The center’s still small, but it looks a lot different. The roof (which had direly needed repair after that fateful blizzard) has been furnished with new shingles. The windows are new and better-insulated. There’s a lot more to see in the back of the building, too — not that you’d ever know from the parking lot.
Yes… there have been several changes around this place. But because I’m a crazy person, I will openly admit that the changes to Charles have been some of my favorites.
For starters, Charles’ name is now boldly displayed at the end of the parking space, right where you might normally expect to see VISITOR or GUEST emblazoned in that bright yellow paint. VISITOR or GUEST wouldn’t be right, though, when this parking space has an actual name.
Charles is also equipped with a bronze plaque on a yellow pole: Reserved for Park Director. It’s a little pathetic, but I can’t stop the racing thrill every single time I consider that the title applies to me.
I’m a park director… me!
It’s a title I’d never even dreamed of having. I’d always assumed senior ranger was the end of the line, the best a girl could hope for. I’d never considered that things could extend beyond the NNS into something more transformative and meaningful.
Even seven months later, I still wake most of the time thinking everything in my life is imaginary. This moment, right here, is no exception. I take a deep breath of the summer air that’s permeated through the cabin of my car.
It’s a fresh, clean smell — one that’s so much different from the humid, oppressive summer air of Georgia summers. Of course I also smell freshly ground coffee. It calls my name from its place in my spill-proof travel mug, which I’ve snugly squeezed into a fancy new car cu
p holder. I realize that cup holders aren’t exactly the average man’s definition of ‘fancy’ — but seeing as how I’d never had one before Cindy, it seems pretty darn high-tech to me!
Still, who am I to resist the powerful call of something as important as coffee?! I shake my head and giggle before taking a sip; it’s a substance that makes the world go round. I’d be a fool to refuse!
The coffee hits my lips, so lovely and strong and rich that I almost groan. Ah yes… that’s good. So good. Much better than the instant crap I made a long time ago.
Ah well. As delicious as this coffee is, I still have responsibilities. Time for work!
I turn off Cindy’s ignition and grab my backpack from the front seat. This backpack contains a carefully packed spare uniform and a few random things I might need if I ever, you know. Get stranded in a cabin in a blizzard. With no means to communicate with the outside world.
I jump down from the high seat, stepping as carefully as possible on the near-frozen surface of the parking lot. Locking Cindy from behind me (with a fancy automatic key fob!), I begin my stride towards the front door. We’re now equipped with a higher-security keypad; hopefully, this will make it easier to prevent future instances of… malfeasance… in the future.
My fingers dance across the keypad and I push my way inside, a satisfying beep echoing in my ears. That little chime is one of the many, many changes I’ve had to get used to. I stride to the visitor’s center desk and hang up my coat on the hanger. Blowfish is still standing sentinel above the clock, his feathers perpetually ruffled, his eyes focused straight ahead. He’s one of the few things I’ve insisted on keeping around.
I give Blowfish a fond look and tuck my hair behind my ears. I’m a sucker for tradition, especially when this space has seen so many changes so quickly. I tilt my head up to Blowfish and grin. I’ve been on a romantic comedy kick lately — a far cry from my survivalist interests that dominated back in winter.
So with no further thought, I run my hand down my face. And start moaning.
