by Keith Knapp
Sophia gave Alison a slight grin. “That’s a Metallica song. Harvester of Sorrow.”
“He has been known to pump up the metal from time to time,” Alison said. “But we have to go.”
“‘Cause he’ll be back?” Jody asked.
“Yes,” Alison said. “But we’ll be long gone by the time he gets outta that hole we dug for him.”
“I don’t think I understand,” said Sophia.
“You don’t need to, honey. All you need to know is that now is not your time. That’s all. Now close your eyes. Don’t want you to hork.”
Before either of them could ask what she meant they were both floating three feet above her. Sophia couldn’t close her eyes, and neither could Jody, this was some amazing stuff going on, and so what if they did hork?
Higher and higher they went.
The others watched them from far below.
Brett embraced his brother.
Mike waved good-bye.
And now Sophia could hear sirens.
People talking.
“She’s coming to.”
“We got ‘er.”
“Get her some oxygen.
“The kid, how’s the kid?”
“Comin’ ‘round, too.”
Even higher now.
The town was barely a speck below them.
The sky around them had gone white. There was a mist. They broke through it and saw the bottom of the 101 Freeway. Broken in two yet still standing, the road crawled with ambulances and paramedics. Helicopters encircled the freeway from above, their blades chopping through the smoky air. Help had finally arrived.
Sophia looked down, and although she could no longer see the town, she could see her daughter. Jody held onto her hand with two fists.
Now she was looking down at her own body, laying on a gurney near one of the on-ramps. Two EMTs were kneeling over her. One of them pulled away from her mouth, ceasing CPR. She saw herself take in a lungful of air and open her eyes.
Jody was already pushing herself up on a stretcher. A third paramedic motioned for her to lay back down. When she didn’t, he pushed her down himself.
Sophia Baker then flew back into her own body. She sucked in some air—great, wonderful L.A. air—and turned to Jody. She was still holding her hand, and all of it was real.
EPILOGUE: OUR WORLD
The move to Pasadena was quick and without incident. Sophia ceased the lease on their apartment and paid the fees, then it was just a short bus ride to her mother’s house. Their belongings followed them the next day courtesy of Allied Moving Company.
They were more than thrilled to learn that there would be no consequences for the death of Jack Welling. Jody had shot in self-defense, most likely saving her mother’s life, and was deemed something of a hero in the internet headlines. Everyone has their fifteen minutes, and for better or worse this was Jody’s. Jody felt it was for the better.
Although their life in Pasadena was not what they were used to, Sophia still had a good sum saved up from her previous job to help make ends meet. They had to eat light and were basically stuck to the house, but that was just fine with everyone. Sophia was back in school, going for that nurse’s degree for real this time, and eventually there’d be some extra income for them all. Besides, Sophia’s mother liked the company.
Mike Randal crossed her mind from time to time. More often than she liked, actually. The others appeared in her head, too, oh sure, but Mike was right up there at the top with a bullet whenever thoughts of the town crept in. She wanted to believe it was because he had been instrumental in saving her and Jody, and certainly that was part of it. But a bigger part of it was that he was an alright guy, an alright guy she could’ve seen herself spending some quality time with had he not been married, or widowed, or dead. He was about as far away from Jack Welling as one could get.
Better not to think about it.
“Jody!” Sophia called up the staircase. “Are you coming or not?”
Sophia limped to the stairs. A car had rolled over her left leg during the earthquake, but through miraculous surgery and a year of physical therapy, she had gotten back her ability to walk. The limp would be with her forever, but Sophia was okay with that; Jody would be with her forever, too.
* * *
Pulling on her winter jacket (even in Pasadena it got down to 40 during the winter months), Jody brushed her hair with her fingers and appraised herself in the mirror. A scar of road rash still sat on the right side of her face, but over time there was the good chance it’d become unnoticeable, or so the doctors said.
“Comin’, mom!” she yelled at the door.
The red streak in her hair had grown out and she left it that way. It felt like a Normal Phase of life, and she was going to try and keep that normal feeling for as long as possible.
CVS Drug & Pharmacy was only a block away, but the thermostat outside her window said it was 49 degrees, so on went the cozy hat. Taking another look at herself in the mirror, Jody smiled. Pasadena wasn’t so bad. Not so bad at all.
As she passed the mirror, a certain dollar bill caught her eye, as it always did. She didn’t know why she kept it; she had actually tried to get rid of it on several occasions, but it kept popping back up. She was even able to spend it at a McDonald’s and two days later she got it back in change from a 7-Eleven two blocks away. So Jody had thrown it away and three weeks later it was back in her wallet. Fine, the thing was keen on staying with her. She placed it into a lockbox she purchased a Target, but lost the box after a month. Not the bill, though. That had reappeared stuck in the wooden frame around the mirror in her bedroom.
She opened the door and a whisk of a breeze entered. The dollar bill wavered, then settled, but the image inside of it didn’t. The drawing of Jody turned to watch the real-life Jody leave the bedroom.
Closing the door behind her (didn’t need Grandma’s little schnauzer getting into her things), Jody was ready for what her and mom had come to call a Quality Walk. A few moments to talk about their favorite TV shows, make fun of the weirdos in CVS or whether or not Jody had met any boys in her new school. They could discuss anything and everything except for one thing. That one thing, the town and everything that had happened to them, would not be talked about again.
The drawing of Jody on the dollar bill smiled.
EPILOGUE: HIS WORLD
The nail went into the wood with three easy hits, bang-bang-bang. He yanked at it, making sure it was secure, and once satisfied, bent down to retrieve another piece of plywood from his pile. Halfway done with one building, (this would be the saloon he was working on now), only twenty or so more to go. He liked the old west motif, and the chance to remodel tasted bitter in his mouth. No, no remodeling here. He wanted it back just the way it was.
But the pile of wood was gone. Looking up, the old man snapped his fingers, calling one of the hounds to him. Diamond Patch grabbed two planks of wood from the mound behind it in its mouth and trotted over. Blackie and Tan Sock did the same, and they’d continue to do this over and over again until their master had enough. There was plenty of wood in what would one day again be the intersection.
Enough to build an entire town.
CODA
Alison’s fingers danced and swayed along the 88 black and white keys of the Steinway and Sons grand piano. It had been in her family for years, and would be forever. It would stay in tune forever, which was a good thing because she didn’t have the foggiest idea of how to go about finding someone to tune it for her.
Mike sat next to her on the bench, his own fingers hovering above the higher-range keys. When Alison nodded, Mike started playing his part.
The final chorus of Aerosmith’s “You See Me Crying” rose from the instrument. Mike smiled. He had been working on his part for months, maybe years, maybe longer, and it sounded like he was finally nailing it. Although time wasn’t an issue for them anymore, he was pleased as punch that he had come so far in such a short amount of time. Or at least what felt
like a short amount of time.
“And now to the coda and out,” Alison said.
Mike obliged, bringing the piece to its proper crescendo and driving the song to its end. He felt like he could do this forever.
They both did.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Keith Knapp is the best-selling author of Moonlight and numerous short stories including Battalion and The Cat on Alpine Road. Between the day he discovered writing and now, he has played the drums in more bands than he can remember, went to film school and has taken up residence in Hawai’i, Missouri, California and Illinois. He loves cats, and if there isn’t always one around he starts to go a little crazy.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I am most likely going to forget someone who affected me along the way to completing the novel you now hold in your hands (or sits on your e-reader). If I do, this is where I apologize for it. So, sorry people I’m about to forget.
To Chicago Dan, who was and is the best friend one could ever hope for. He’s the guy who will help you move without having to be asked, will pick you up at the airport if you need it, and will give you a roof over your head when yours flies away. I also need to mention his feline Chewie, who is slowly but surely warming up to me.
To Alison, the first person to read Coda so many drafts and years ago. Her input helped shape the novel and encouraged me to continue. The cover she created for it is beyond amazing. She took a simple idea in my head and made it a zillion times better.
To Hawai’i Dan, whose love of music surpasses my own and without whom I may not have had the notion to use a few musical motifs in the structure of this novel.
To Heather, who listened to me when I needed listening to. She’s the type of person you can jump right back into a conversation with even if it’s been years, and for that I’ll be forever grateful.
To my cats Tony, Leia and Trudy. I could write entire novels about each of them (and probably will one day, so look out) but I’ll keep it short here: you three help make life worth living.
And finally to my lovely wife Leslie. Words can’t describe what she’s had to put up with since meeting me, yet she’s sticking with it. She’s a pillar of support who calls me on my shit when my shit needs calling on. I look forward to spending the coda of our own lives together.
