He felt his pace quickening as he traveled once again down the streets towards the south end of town. He, of course, already knew where the house was, and he took side streets this time, so as to avoid seeing the damaged businesses on Main Street.
You're stressed.
'Just noticing now, huh?'
You're more stressed now. Worried about what you might find at the teacher's house?
'Why do you always have to be so- what did he mean, one of April's causes?'
Jake stopped quickly to fix his shoe. The laces were all broken and he'd been tying them in knots the best he could.
April had a lot of causes. Most of them died. Your teacher friend was more of a long term project. She was one of the many people taken to the med centre after the rain. One of the only ones who was there all alone. No family. April tried to get her to talk about everything- wasn't very successful, but of course, she was busy with more critical patients. A few weeks later, most of those patients were dead. The teacher wasn't. April stopped by her place, now and then, trying to help her. Your mom carried on after she died.
Jake sighed. He was getting the feeling that he wouldn't understand, or things wouldn't be explained, until he saw what had become of his fellow survivor.
He turned the corner onto her street. He was still walking quickly but he slowed as he came toward the house. He was thinking of the bus, finding the bus driver, turning around to see who had spoken.
Not afraid now, are you?
'Are you kidding?' Jake chuckled, but he himself noticed the slightly nervous edge in his laughter.
Her house had been pretty run-down last he'd seen it. The time it had spent vacant while she was in New Bern hadn't been kind to it. This house was worse. The windows were boarded up with planks of wood, a chunk was missing out of one of the walls, and as he walked across the small lawn, he noticed scraps of machine parts littered around the side of the house. He felt slightly queasy- he wasn't sure why- as he reached for the plastic container of soup. He placed it on the doorstep, feeling a little silly as he did so. He reached up his hand to knock on the door.
Hey, buddy, what are you doing?
'Knocking.' He leaned in to try and peer through the cracked glass window, but couldn't see anything but darkness.
Didn't you hear your brother? Deliver to the door and leave.
'I am delivering it. I'm making sure she gets it.'
She doesn't know you.
'She knows my mom. I'll introduce myself.'
Not a good idea, man.
Jake gave a sound of frustration. 'I can't leave, I have to see...'
Despite further protestations from his long dead friend, he reached up and knocked on the battered wooden door.
There was silence.
He knocked again, this time more loudly. He couldn't explain, even to himself, but the more he waited in the silence, the more agitated he felt.
Alright, you knocked, our girl didn't answer, let's go back to the bar.
Jake shook his head, knocking again, and shouting “Heather! Heather Lisinski!”
There was a thud and a scrambling noise from the other side of the door. Sudden movement in the small window caught his eye, and he realized that someone on the other side was pointing a gun through the hole in the glass.
“Get out of here, or I'll shoot!”
Jake was frozen and speechless. He stared at the strange sight in front of him.
“Did you hear me? Go away!” Her voice was hoarse, heavy, but he knew it was her.
“I mean it! I don't have anything worth taking, and I'll shoot you if you come closer.”
He snapped out of his momentary inertia to hold up his hands. “Heather, I'm not here to hurt you.”
“What did you say? How do you know my name?” She shouted.
“I'm- I'm Gail Green's son,” he sputtered.
There was silence for a moment. He took it as a sign to continue.
“My mom is Gail Green. She sent me to bring you this.” He held up the soup. “I- She just wanted to know you're okay. Will you please open the door?”
There was silence again from the other side. Then another scrambling sound, presumably as she climbed down from the chair upon which she'd been standing. After a few seconds, the door creaked slowly open.
Jake took a sharp breath in as he took in the sight of her, standing there on the other side, fixing him with a look of hostility he'd never seen on her before. Her eyes had dark circles, she was thinner then he'd ever seen, and so pale. She was also still pointing the gun at him.
“If you're Gail's son, how come I've never seen you before?”
“I was away when the bombs went off. It took me a while to get home.” He held his hands up still, barely breathing.
“I've lived here for years. How come I never saw you before the bombs?”
“I've been away for a long time. Would you please stop pointing that at me?”
She still held it, and he could see the fear behind the warning look she was still giving him.
“Is that even loaded?” he asked, trying to sound confident.
She sighed then, reaching for a bat he hadn't noticed leaning against the wall. “It's not, but the last person who tried to break in got a broken nose.” She dropped the gun and held the bat out in front of her, ready to swing it, but he noticed her hands shaking slightly.
“It's okay,” he said, holding his jacket open so that she could see he was unarmed. “I really just came to give this to you. I think it's squash.” He pointed again to the container of soup, which he'd dropped on the ground. He watched now as she looked from the soup to him, her wide eyes trying to figure him out.
“You knew my sister-in-law, right? April Green? I was the best man at her wedding.”
Heather was still clenching the bat in her fists, but she asked softly “You're the older one? The one who was missing?”
He nodded, venturing just a hint of a smile. “Yeah, that's me.”
“Where did you come from?” she asked.
“Vegas. I spent time at different refugee camps.” Her grip on the bat seemed to lessen just a tiny bit.
“Pretty bad out there, right?” she asked, her mouth forming a small smile but her eyes still dead serious.
He nodded grimly. “How about here?”
She laughed, the kind of laugh that sent chills up his spine. “Same. Same as anywhere, I'm sure.”
He made a move to step forward; she jumped slightly and moved farther back into the dark house.
“Look, my mom said she worries about you,” he said, trying to glance past her and see the state of her house. “Is there anything you need? Anything at all?”
She shook her head forcefully, clenching her jaw and saying “No, no, I'm fine.” She self-consciously reached out, grabbed the container of soup, and stepped quickly back into the house.
“You're sure?” he asked, not wanting to leave her looking at him the way she was.
“I'm fine.”
When she didn't move, or say anything else, he started stepping backwards, turning around, and crossing the lawn.
“Jake?”
He turned around.
“Thank you. And thank your mother for me, please.” With one almost forlorn glance, she shut the door.
Jake stood there for a few minutes, not willing himself to move. After an eternity, he let out a long shuddering breath. He turned and started to walk away, not noticing what direction his path would lead.
He could sense Freddie, ready to start asking him questions. Ready for him to talk about his experience. He wasn't in a mood to talk about anything.
'Don't say anything, unless you want to explain to me.'
What, Jake?
'How this happened.'
To her?
'Her, them, everyone here. Do not tell me just because I'm not here, all of this happened. I'm not that important.'
No, you're not. No one is.
'Then why?' He felt on the verge of tears again. 'I've seen her go through fire, war, near-execution, and she's always strong. She always came out of her house again.'
He was thinking of Black Jack, and the windmills, the army camp she'd described to him, and the things she wouldn't say if he tried to talk about New Bern. The way she'd agreed to steal from Beck's office. The way she'd always been willing to keep trying to make things better. 'How could that one night on the bus do this?'
Well, you and I both know how one thing can change you, but you've noticed, I'm sure, that it hasn't been just one thing around here. Riots, Ravenwood, refugees, Jonah's men, disease, food shortage. They're used to it- tragedies happen here all the time. Your friend knows she's alone here- she found it out the hard way one night. She told herself she'd never let it happen again, and she hasn't let anyone get past the doorstep since.
Jake's breath caught in his throat. He tried to speak, but couldn't force out the words. He couldn't ask more questions. He tasted acid in his mouth. He could feel Freddie nudging his back, forcing him along. He took one heavy step after another, barely noticing he was moving.
Incidentally, she was telling the truth about the broken nose- good thing you managed to convince her you weren't trying to break in.
Jake trudged along angrily, not wanting to talk, listen, or think. The more he tried to ignore them, the more the memories of the bus were coming back again. They were ghosts now- the kids from the road, the kids who died on the bus, the kids who lived, and her too.
'I don't want any more of this,' he thought angrily, not knowing what he was asking.
Okay, man.
'We get to leave?'
Sorry, we're not done. I know just where we should go next.
Jake remembered then the glass jars in his bag. “Bailey's,” he said out loud.
No, not Bailey's. Someplace where what you're feeling right now will be understood perfectly.
'But I told my mom I'd-'
What are you doing Jake? You don't actually live here, you know. This is a sight-seeing trip only. You can't help it can you?
'What?'
Running errands for your mom, helping the mayor figure out what's happening, checking on the school teacher...
'So?'
You can't help getting involved.
'I don't choose it, you know. I don't...'
Want to?
Jake was silent. He didn't want to know the answer.
Yes, where we're going you will be in good company.
'Well, you're the guide. Point the way.'
Heh-heh. We're almost there.
It hadn't seemed like anything had changed, but Jake was now far away from Heather's house, past all the houses and buildings. Past the river, if he remembered correctly.
He was silent. Once again, all he could do was stare at the sight that met his eyes.