Breaking Point (Article 5 #2)(65)

“Oh. Good. Me too.” A quick laugh snuck out.

We settled into a tentative conversation, one which encroached on our old selves, but never quite reached them. I was afraid of getting too close because inevitably I’d lose her again. I wondered if on some level she felt the same.

Our time was running low. I could feel the tick, tick, tick of the clock with each beat of my heart.

“I’m sorry about Ryan.”

She bit her lip. “Yeah. It sucks.”

“You can’t tell him I was here.”

“I figured.”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“I know.”

“Not even your parents.”

“I know.”

There was a knock on the doorframe.

“We need to get going,” Chase said, appearing in the threshold. I’d heard him walking from room to room, checking our exits while Beth and I talked.

“Already? But you just got here!” Beth said.

I felt it, too. The strain, the roots that bound my feet to the floor. I couldn’t stay, but I wanted to. I had to remind myself that my life wouldn’t be normal if I stayed. This, right now, was as good as it was going to get.

“Beth,” Chase cleared his throat. “You can come with us.”

“No, I can’t. I’ve got to do this. For Lori and for Ember.” Her tone was so resolute I knew we couldn’t argue with her.

“Do you have a way to get out of town?” he asked, obviously having expected this answer.

“My dad has a car he saves for emergencies,” she said. “But we never drive it.”

“Does it work?”

“Yeah. He starts it up about once a month when he’s having a my-life-sucks-so-bad-I-can’t-even-drive crisis.”

Chase removed the forty dollars cash from his pocket and handed it to her.

“Go to the fill station and get a can of gas and some food, something nonperishable. Leave them in the trunk with a few changes of clothes for you and your family. If you have to get out quickly, you’ll be ready that way.”

He was protecting her, even when she’d thrashed him earlier.

“Change your name and your hair,” I said. “And look for places that have a hand-painted sign outside: One Whole Country, One Whole Family. If you can’t find one, ask around for a carrier at a soup kitchen. But don’t talk to soldiers and don’t talk to Sisters. You have to keep a low profile.”

“O-okay,” she said. “But really guys, I think I’ll be fine.”

I rubbed my temples. Just then a knock came from the front door, and a moment later we heard it push inward. Unbelievable. The door wasn’t even locked.

Chase and I were on our feet instantly. He’d pulled the gun from the back of my waistband and aimed it low before him. I gripped my clothing and my mother’s magazine hard to my chest.

“It’s just Harmony’s brother,” said Beth uneasily, keeping her eyes trained on the weapon. “He always knocks at the front door. I told you, he’s okay.”

I didn’t like it.

“Don’t tell him we’re here,” ordered Chase.

“All right already. Let me go see what he wants.”

She made to leave the room, but I grabbed her arm frantically.

“Beth, be careful. The second you think someone’s watching, go. Promise me you’ll do that.”

“But—”

“Promise me!” My whispered voice hitched. A tear slid down her freckled cheek.

“I promise,” she said, voice pained. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

As she left the room, I fought the urge to follow and make sure she was safe. Chase motioned toward the window, but I shook my head. We had to wait. What if she was wrong and that patrol car had swung back around? We needed to be here to protect her.

I listened from the door, but could only hear muffled voices. Needing reassurance, I snuck into the hallway and caught a glimpse of Beth’s back. She was talking to a soldier, presumably Harmony’s brother, though I couldn’t see his face. See? I told myself. No need to panic, and yet somehow the pressure of Chase’s hand encompassing mine, squeezing as if to say, time to go, sent a wave of skepticism through me.

Then I turned my head, and at last peered into my mother’s bedroom.

It was empty, just like all the other rooms, the scent of mildew permeating the stagnant space. Her bed was gone, and her dresser and nightstand, along with her framed pictures atop it of me growing up. Vaguely, I was aware of a small pop inside of me, a pinch, as all the remaining strings binding me together were severed. And then I was unraveling, spinning faster and faster.

“Mom, that music’s contraband!”

She jumped on the bed, pulling me up, where we jumped and twisted and danced. It was like melting. I was an ice cube and she was the sun and I was powerless to stand against her.

“We used to do this when you were little, remember? I would hold your hands and spin you, and you’d giggle and shout ‘Faster!’”

The chill started in my bones and worked its way out to my skin, and soon I was shivering so hard I could barely stand. Maybe she wasn’t perfect, maybe things weren’t always easy, but she was my mom, and she was dead. Erased. As though she’d never existed. And nothing, nothing was left of her but an old magazine rolled up in my sweatshirt.