Something Of A Kind (25 page)

Luke did end up staying the night. In old blankets and lump cot
pads dragged from the closet, they slept in front of the television – a
rare luxury. The boys didn’t talk about it until the next morning,
when playing on the widow’s walk in secret.

“Someday one of us is going to kill him,” Luke said, rolling a
miniature skateboard over the ledge. Noah didn’t say a word,
knowing he’d find the model in the bushes later. “Then he’ll wish he
let us go.”

Noah’s eyes widened. “You or me?”

 

“No, stupid – me or Mom.”

It was no surprise the woman was a hunter, between being too
poor to feed her son by traditional means and being an eternal victim
with pent-up aggression. What was surprising is why she stayed in
the few safe opportunities to leave– like a fishing trip, or his annual
boy’s nights out of town.

That and the fact that she operates every big-game rifle legal in
the state of Alaska.

Aly slowed, observing the chaos with unanimous confusion.
With the focus obviously centered on Yazzie’s, it wasn’t like
someone had dropped dead in the other shops. The chances were
that it could be anybody, lung collapsing over breakfast, heart attack
in a booth, tripping over a forgotten wet floor sign.

But it’s not anybody’s family. It’s mine.

The tape around the road’s bars grabbed his attention as they
passed, a multi-purpose tow truck dragging an all too familiar panel
van from Yazzie’s side-yard. Something dropped in his stomach, his
anxiety arresting. He winced as muscles involuntarily tensed, and
blurted, “Aly, pull over. Please.”

“Your arm
-” she began, before sneaking a glance at his
expression. Swallowing, she nodded slowly, pulling into the grocer’s
driveway.

He
unbuckled as carefully
as panic
allowed, awkwardly
climbing from the cab. She met him at the back to support the other
side of his limp as he crossed the road.

Sarah sat in a
chair
as the volunteer worked over her,
surprisingly not Jacob. A pale cloud of foam covered her neck, her
hand gripping the plastic arms as stiches were woven over a seeping
skull wound. Suddenly within earshot, little details slammed through
his shock. He moved through the small crowd, leaving Aly to blink
at the scene, unable to form words.

“They’re saying she packed a bag and booked it.”

 

“No, seriously, the kid was running away.”

 

“– was running away…”

 

“…just ran off.”

 

“… guess she got lost on the road.”

 

“Anthony was drivin’ her home, I suppose.”
“…bringing her back… drunk and swerving…”

 

“…couldn’t believe the noise! I came runnin’ and there they
were, smoking and all sorts…”

The commentaries went on. Though overwhelming, he realized
they were coming from the same two or three loudmouths, the rest
staring, the sight shock and awe. Muffled whispers about whiplash
and braces explained the white mass around his sister’s head. A free
hand gripping his arm, he approached Tony’s chair in a near-limp,
seething.

He spat, “My sister’s in a neck brace, you asshole.”

“Language,” Tony warned, his voice irritated. “I was trying to
help her. She was five miles out of town, walking towards nothin’
for thirty. It’s real’ good we were close to home. Didn’t curb ‘til I
got to Lee’s.”

“Nothing about this is good, Tony.” He released his shoulder to
raise a hand in frustration.

 

“It’s all how you look at it.”

“I’m looking at the fact that my sister could have died!” Noah
insisted, leaning above him. He pointed angrily at the surf, his good
arm jerking as he mined the horrific images slamming through his
thought. “Two feet, and you would have been off that dock. She
could have drowned. She could have been crushed. You could have
passed out. She’s fifteen, Tony. What the hell would she do with an
unconscious old man and a moving vehicle? What would she do
belted to a warped truck twenty feet under water that you can’t even
see through?”

“She was fine!” Tony hollered, pushing himself up in his seat
before sinking back into a dazed stare. Noah swallowed, backing
away as he simmered.

“I am the only person, the only person in this entire town, who
has ever stuck up for you. I tell everyone, ‘Tony’s a good guy. He’s
just rough on the edges. He’s more responsible that he looks.’ I
defended you, I trusted you, but you’re an idiot. You’re just a drunk,
just like everyone else.”

“I’m not like them,” Tony muttered, fumbling in his shirt
pockets for a cigarette.

“You should have called me!” Noah yelled, red crawling across
his neck. He balled the available hand into a fist, stomach churning,
chest pounding.

He knew even if Tony had, he wouldn’t have known. He was too
far out of town, and even then the cell towers were shifty. He hadn’t
been there for his sister. If Tony hadn’t found her, when would they
have known she was gone? She could have gotten lost in the woods,
run in with a bear, spent the night on the road, dragged into the
vehicle of a stranger with nauseating intentions. He didn’t even
know she had considered leaving.

But Sarah was in a neck brace because Tony picked her up fully
knowing he was intoxicated.

 

Even though he could have hurt her. Even though he did.

Noah watched him struggle to weasel a lighter from his pocket,
the man wheezing so heavily you’d think he’d be seeking an inhaler.
He smelled like booze and cigarettes. His shirt was unbuttoned,
revealing tattoos and scars. A scarred belly rose between the open
flaps. The long ponytail was pulled away from his receding hairline,
mangled. He sported the same stained clothes he wore the last time
Noah had seen him.From the dirt running over his skin like a girl’s
makeup after tears and blackened palms, it certainly looked like he
hadn’t showered in longer.

Sickened, Noah’s shoulder throbbed under his hand.

 

“You know what, Tony? I need to get to the clinic. I have to go. I
can’t even look at you right now.”

“Yeah, yes. The arm. It looks busted. Looks, looks… Look, boy,
I’m just a bit skunked. I’ll be fine in the morning. I’ll ‘pologize then,
alright? I need you out of my face, now.”

“It’s ten in the morning,” Noah m
uttered, feeling disgusted as he
gave him
a last glance. Between the burning pulsation of his
wounded limb and the crushing disappointment, he
needed an
escape. “I’m so done.”

“I said I was sorry, man,” Tony began, the wide circles of his
dazed eyes rolling from behind heavy wrinkles to meet Noah’s gaze,
instead finding his back as he walked away. “I’m sorry! Don’t leave,
boy. I’m sorry! Rob! Rob!”

Noah stopped in his tracks, turning in time to catch Tony fall
from his seat and look up from the ground.

Rob was his adopted son, a teenage white boy found in a slum
with a nasty addiction, the same that ran off the day he turned
eighteen. He disappeared with Noah’s aunt, Lee’s little sister Maria,
and never looked back.

There were rumors of drug addictions, but according to Lee,
they didn’t hear another word until Sarah was born. That was
supposedly vague and brief.

The old man’s finally lost it.

He continued to walk and ignored Henry Davis’s concerned stare
at his makeshift sling as they traded places. The sandy-haired,
middle-aged volunteer paramedic applied antiseptic and butterfly
stitches the cuts across Tony Gabriel’s forehead.

At his back, he could hear drunken curses at the sting of
cleanser. To his right, Sarah whimpered as Lee and Mark carefully
lifted her at the elbows from the chair they had dragged to the
sidewalk. Noah gave her a look that spoke for him, informing his
sister of the talk they would have later. It also conveyed the
thousand silent apologies churning in his chest.

Aly murmured a few more words to Sarah, a reddish white
spreading across her pale knuckles as their hands squeezed upon
parting. She looked back and forth between Noah and Henry as she
approached, meeting him mid-stride to the car.

“Did you still want to go to the clinic?”

 

“I think it’s a good idea. This thing is killing me, and everyone’s
stretched pretty thin here.”

“Okay,” She responded slowly, nibbling her lip as she glanced at
the car. “I’ve still got a few weeks to transfer my license to Alaska,
so I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

“It’s an emergency anyway, hardly questionable.” He smiled
through a wince, brushing her cheek with a free hand.

 

I can’t take this out on her. This is all my fault.

 

She blinked, shaking her head. “You’re right – let’s get that
looked at.”

 

CHAPTER 19 | ALYSON

 

“Yes, I’m sure I’m fine,” Noah murmured, eyes closed. “We’re
almost there anyway.”

Every time he spoke, Noah sounded as dazed as he did halfdead. It wasn’t alarming until she glanced his way. Face twisted in
agony, a hand on his shoulder, he slumped against the window.

I forced him to go up there… he got hurt protecting me.

 

Worried and guilty, she continued, “Are you sure you’re sure?”

 

He sighed. “Aly, I was up all night. I’m honestly just tired.”

 

He hasn’t yawned once, and he was running through the woods
like a jaguar.

“I believe you,” she lied, her voice low. “I know what happened
to Sarah has got to be really overwhelming… It might help if you…
Just… Just keep talking.”

“What do you want me to say?” he mumbled, grimacing with
another wave of pain.

 

Why didn’t he look like this when we were three yards from a
paramedic?

 

“Tell me one of your stories,” Aly pleaded, eager for a
reassurance that he was conscious. “Tell me of the sun thieves.”
“There once was a wise man,” Noah said, “Who told his village
about the worth of all people.”
~

With the clinic’s waiting
-room-coffee
in hand, Aly
found
comfort in the heated Styrofoam. The little stand on wheels across
from her was the only warmth in the room.

Between waiting for Noah and
being acutely aware of Greg’s
unprovoked argument with the receptionist, her stress went from
tangible to all-encompassing in a few minutes.

In her peripheral, she wasn’t sure if her father noticed her yet.
Aly watched him accept a clipboard to sign something before
handing it back. After a moment, Greg shoved through the tinted
glass doors, eyes locking on Aly. As he approached, she lounged
back in her chair, resting her head against the chilled wall.

“So,” she offered, head lolling to make eye contact. “Did you
burn Maggie’s house down or something?”

He mumbled something to himself, dropping in the seat at her
side. Audible, he added, “Believe it or not, Alyson, I’ve only ever
had eyes for your mother. I’ve loved Vanessa since we were
children.”

“Try telling the good doctor that.” She smirked, before adding,
“Well, I already did. Didn’t go over so well.”

 

“Alyson,” he groaned, as though her name was an inconvenient
diagnosis, “are you always this difficult about everything?”

 

Is this the elusive face of an embarrassed Greg Glass?

 

She shrugged, staring at the ceiling. “Soon enough, you won’t
have to worry about it.”

 

His brow knitted, alarmed. “How do you expect me to take
that?”

 

“My eighteenth birthday,” she notified. “Almost here, almost
gone.”

 

He shifted, scratching his neck. Clearing his throat, he mumbled,
“That’s not necessary, Alyson-”

 

“It is,” she interrupted. “How long have you known about the
wood beast?”

He paused, evaluating how seriously she took the question.
Seeming pleased, he straightened, explaining, “When I was working
at the university in Albany. I was driving a scenic route, headed back
to Kingsley, through the Adirondack Park. He crossed the road, right
in front of my highbeams… I was already studying biology at that
point, very invested in a myriad of subspecialties. I was alarmed,
intrigued, fascinated… it wasn’t anything like I’d seen before, or
have seen since.”

Rage filled her chest, slamming against the hurt already welling.
“If that thing is back home, why come here? To the most random...”
She stopped, unwilling to finish her sentence, unsure of what
satisfaction it would offer. What could she say?

Do you have any idea how small and remote Ashland, Alaska is?
Did you personally pick the spot furthest away from us? Did you
really hate us that much?

"We all run, Aly."

 

“Clearly, it was not far enough,” Aly replied, despising the
weakness in her voice.

Fidgeting, he brushed off her comment. “Alyson, no matter how
difficult this seems… it’s irrelevant to the issue at hand. I’d
appreciate if you could stay focused for one minute.” His voice was
on edge, filled with a sudden impatience. “The fact of the matter is
that your behavior, recently, in general, it’s been unacceptable. You
were perfectly well-behaved until you were involved with Lee
Locklear’s son, and now you’ve not only disrespected me, but
you’ve lost a lot of credit with the local people for the entire
corporation. As I’ve said in the past, this is my life’s work. I don’t
know if you can understand this, but our relationships, even
interpersonal, with the elders of this area are extremely valuable.
Very rarely is any information shared. Now they’re practically up in
arms, because of you. I frankly have to ask you to reconsider your
current arrangements and associations–”

You have got to be kidding me.

Suppressing
a
hurricane
of
rage, Aly
took a
deep
breath.
Sounding exasperated, she interjected, “Greg, I am not going to stop
seeing Noah.”