Chapters 1-3

Chapter 1

Avery

“Sugar, stop! No no no!” Avery heard from behind her. A smile curled her lips as she dropped the package she was attempting to deliver. Spinning in place, Avery bent her knees, arms outstretched as the familiar site of Sugar, the English Mastiff, barreled towards her. Slobber swung from her jowls as Sugar lunged, and her huge, lion sized paws landed squarely on Avery’s shoulders, knocking her back a few steps before Sugar bestowed her wet, slobbery kisses all over her favorite mail carrier’s face.

“Okay, okay! Hi, Sugar baby. I missed you too, girl!” Avery crooned, making sure to scratch the pup under her chin just the way she liked. After a minute, Sugar finally dropped back to all fours to look up at her with the biggest puppy dog eyes Avery had ever faced.

With faked reluctance, Avery reached into her pocket “Yeah, I know what you want, big girl. But I can’t just spoil you. You gotta earn it.” She held a treat in the air. Sugar, already familiar with this drill, obediently sat. Sherry, standing beside her now, snorted in amusement.

Avery laughed and ruffled the big dog’s ears “Uh uh, not that easy this time. No, stay. Now, paw. Can I have your paw?” She asked, holding out her hand, which Sugar was only too happy to put her right paw into. “Now, other paw. No, the other one.” Avery directed, dropping Sugar’s right paw. After two tries, the pup finally seemed to grasp what was being asked of her and enthusiastically lifted her left paw, placing it in Avery’s hand.

“Good girl! You’re such a good girl, Sugar” Avery praised, then tossed the treat in the air. She watched as the pup promptly ran off with her hard-won prize, tail wagging in contentment.

The neigh of a horse reached her ears, and Avery huffed a laugh knowing that Sugar probably went to terrorize the poor creature some more. The mid-July sun beat down overhead. Avery lifted her hair off her neck and inhaled the scent of hay and horse manure that brought to mind long-ago summers spent helping out at her Grandma’s farm.

“You know, Avery, she would stop jumping you if you stopped spoiling her with those damn treats. We only give her Milk-Bones, and she doesn’t beg for those nearly as much.” Sherry shook her head and bent to retrieve the dropped package. “Good thing this wasn’t anything fragile, huh? I should’ve known to keep Sugar in the house when I saw it was getting delivered today. Just a new pair of boots for our next line dancing date.” She tucked the box under her arm and swiped her straw-colored hair away from her sweaty face.

Sherry was Avery’s favorite customer. It hadn’t taken them long to surpass a working relationship and become real friends. Just the other night they had gone out for drinks after Avery finished working. Truthfully, she hadn’t expected to make a friend out of the loud-mouthed farm girl, but she wouldn’t change it for anything.

The women were like yin and yang. Polar opposites that when together, created an interesting and unique aesthetic. Where Sherry was short and petite, Avery was tall and voluptuous. Sherry’s light hair and sun-kissed tanned skin was the perfect contradiction to Avery’s dark, brown and purple hair and slightly lighter complexion. Add in their completely different styles of dress, and it was a wonder they’d even stopped to say hello, let alone built a friendship over the last four years.

“I know, but that’s why I bring ‘em. Blame Brad, not me. He got these dogs trained on what to expect when he came around. I couldn’t just change up their routine like that, ya know?” Avery chuckled and her thoughts drifted to the carrier that had trained her. His training style had been a bit unorthodox, but highly effective. She could get the route done faster than anyone else who had attempted it, and that was all thanks to him.

The wind picked up and brought the scent of honeysuckle and incoming rain as the women’s thoughts drifted to Brad and the acute feeling of his absence in the world. Avery watched the clouds drift across the sky, unable to squash the keen sense of regret she harbored when she thought of him. 

The last year of his life had been especially rough. The cancer had destroyed his body, making him just a mere shell of the man she knew. Towards the end he wouldn’t even allow her to come visit him. He had said he didn’t want her to remember him like that. No amount of arguing or assurances to the contrary mattered to him. In the end, she resigned herself to saying goodbye over the phone. She felt that respecting his wishes was the least she could do for a man she considered a friend.

She blinked fast to keep her tears at bay and turned to Sherry. She noticed the wetness that threatened her friend’s eyes as well, but she opted to keep her mouth shut. She just nodded and mumbled something about needing to finish up the route. She took a deep breath of fresh country air as she turned to climb into her old, black Jeep Grand Cherokee. The one Brad had left her in his will, which she only learned was named ‘Old Faithful’ the day the lawyers read her his letter.

She patted the dash and stuck the key in the ignition. After the customary wiggle to get it to turn, she cranked the engine. She checked her mirrors to make sure Sugar hadn’t worked her way behind the Jeep, then turned around and pulled out of the driveway, leaving Sherry to her grief. She knew her friend didn’t like to let anyone see her cry. She also knew that Sherry had known Brad since kindergarten, and that they even had some romantic history, which made her loss much more poignant than Avery’s.

Avery started back on her route, her mood more somber than it had been. She readjusted the placement of her 9mm pistol that was now digging into her hip. The gun she had bought after she almost got bitten by a rabid coyote. She made sure to never leave home without it. Better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it again. She thought, before she let her mind drift away to the sound of her tires on the dirt road.

Sooner than expected, Avery pulled up to the little two-room, shack-like office that was her base of operations at work. Damn, I really need to stop working on autopilot, she thought, as she turned in her seat to double check that she hadn’t missed any packages. Hopefully I didn’t misdeliver anything. A call from Keith is the last thing I need this weekend. She quickly stacked everything on top of each other, chewing at the inside of her bottom lip as she tried to mentally relive the last hour and a half, but found it difficult to remember anything specific.

Greeting Stephen, the clerk, she moved over to her mail case and put everything back where it belonged. She walked the scanner across the room to put it back in the charging cradle and asked Stephen if there were any calls or complaints today. He just shook his head in reply and went back to playing whatever mind-numbing game he was currently addicted to on his phone. It’s a small office, so there really wasn’t a whole lot for the kid to do during the day. Avery felt bad that he spent most of his day bored to tears, but she also envied him and the fact that he didn’t have much to worry about, unless she screwed up on the route.

Avery grabbed a rubber band and twisted it around the stack of outgoing letters she’d collected and placed them on the desk next to Stephen. She took one last glance around the office, then waved to Stephen and finally made her escape.

Before she climbed into her right-hand-drive Jeep, she reached in to unknot the seatbelt. If she was honest with herself, she hated driving without it. Having been in a couple of car accidents, she fully believed in the idea that seatbelts save lives. Unfortunately, they also added time onto her route that she didn’t want to waste continuously unbuckling and buckling every time she got out to deliver a package or grab a signature. So, she usually knotted it up just so the damn car would stop dinging at her for not wearing it.

Climbing into the driver’s seat, the scent of lilac hit her nose and she took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet aroma. After a second of debate, she hopped back out and quickly walked over to the neighbor’s lilac bush and picked one. Getting back into the car, she placed it in her visor with a smile, knowing she’d enjoy the scent of pure innocence and spring on her long drive home.

***

By the time she hit the I-70 on-ramp, Avery was already lost in her head again, contemplating the boring weekend ahead. Despite the usual loneliness of her existence, she still found herself optimistically looking forward to her weekends off.

Why’s it matter if you work or not? It’s not like you have any plans. Sherry has the agriculture convention and you’re just going to spend the next two days alone with your Kindle, like almost every other night.

She tried to block the negative thoughts by cranking up the radio. ‘Beautiful Way’ by You Me at Six blared through her speakers, and she couldn’t help but sing along despite her subpar singing voice. She never could make herself care if anyone heard her through her open windows. Singing along to good music always helped bury the darkness.

“So tell me, what do you mean?!

When you say that we’re not okay!

We’re fucked up in a beautiful way!

Fucked up in a beautiful way!”

She screamed along to the chorus, trying to take the message she interpreted in those words to heart. As she started headbanging, she noticed a black SUV coming up behind her at a good clip faster than she was driving.

She switched on her turn signal and moved over to the right lane, allowing the car to pass her. Damn, I’m doing 85, where the hell is the fire? She thought as she watched it zoom by. Never one to be stuck in the slow lane, she flicked her turn signal on again and moved back over behind the SUV which had already put a good bit of space between them.

It surprised her when the SUV, which she could now see was a Ford, suddenly swerved to the left onto the rumble strips. She briefly wondered if he had a flat, until the sound of the engine roaring as the driver gunned it reached her ears. Once the vehicle was a few cars ahead, she saw him cut to the right, clipping the bumper of another car which sent it spinning. The sound of squealing tires was somehow loud over her radio, which she quickly flicked off. She watched as the other car spun almost a full 180 degrees before the right-side tires caught the pavement and it flipped into the median. The screech of metal straining and crunching was something she’d remember for a long time. The car finally came to a rocking stop on its roof in the middle of the strip of grass, its front-end dipping into the slight ditch at the center.

Avery quickly jerked her wheel, steering into the emergency lane on the left side. She slammed on her brakes when she came adjacent to the wrecked car, which added her own tire marks to the new collection on this part of I-70.

She had no idea what she planned to do, but she felt like she had to do something. When she jumped out of the car, the smell of burnt rubber was almost overwhelming. The fact that the crash was obviously intentional hadn’t quite registered to her as she sprinted across the grass of the median to the overturned car. A car whose engine was still revving, making its tires spin even though it was currently sitting upside down. Avery saw a couple other people also pull over and get out of their cars, but most of the drivers just kept going. A big, burly guy in a cowboy hat caught her eye, not only because of his hat or his size, but because he was the only other person running towards the car.

Avery was much closer, though, so she tried to grab his attention with a shout “Hey! Big guy! Call 911! Get an ambulance out here!” 

She saw his hat dip in what she hoped was a nod of acknowledgment but didn’t break stride until she almost ran into the side of the wrecked car. It was a blue hatchback, but that was all she could tell. She could change a tire faster than anyone else she knew, but identifying cars was definitely not in her repertoire of skills.

Now that she was closer, she could see the true extent of the damage and smell the sweet chemical scent of gasoline that hinted at a leaking fuel tank. The front of the roof was crushed and glass shards from the windshield dug into the grass under her feet. She dropped to her knees next to the busted out driver’s side window. Her jeans protected her skin from the wayward shards but the wetness of the ground from that morning’s rain managed to seep through. She peered into the front seat where a man hung upside down, unmoving. Fuck, I can’t tell if he’s breathing. Please, please don’t be dead she silently begged as she reached an arm through the window to feel for the pulse point on his neck. Avery relaxed a little when she felt it thumping strongly against her fingers.

“Okay, let’s get you out of here.” She stretched her upper body into the car to unbuckle his seatbelt and hoped the guy wouldn’t land on his head. Right when her fingers found the latch, she looked up and her eyes fell on the back seat. From the angle outside the car, she hadn’t noticed anyone else. Now, she could clearly see a young boy hanging upside down behind the passenger seat. Blood dripped down his forehead and into his shaggy brown hair and her breath caught in her chest, he couldn’t be more than ten years old.

Shit, is he alive? Oh fuck fuck fuck. She glanced at the man, a mere two inches from her in her current position. She debated for a minute, but there really was no choice. She pulled herself back out of the car, leaving the man where he hung.

Avery got to her feet and ran around to the back door. She glanced around her and noticed about fifteen people standing back from the car, just watching. A few were on the phone, hopefully calling for help, which she doubted, and a few looked like they were recording. Great. Fucking great. Why are people so fucking useless? Avery asked herself, trying to pull the back door open. Even if it wasn’t locked, the bent and twisted roof kept it wedged shut. She put her face up against the window, hands cupped around her eyes to see into the back. I can’t break this window, I could hurt the kid she realized, then jogged back around. Both rear windows were still intact, so she tried to kick out the back driver’s side window and hoped the glass wouldn’t hit the kid. The worry was useless though as all she accomplished was hurting her foot in the effort.

Avery stood up and looked around, becoming frantic. She ran her hand through her hair as she tried to think of a way to break the window. As she let her arms fall, she felt her pistol against her hip. She pulled it from the holster and double checked the safety. Accidentally shooting herself or someone else was not in the plans today.

I can’t shoot the damn window, though she thought, before the idea struck her. Kneeling next to the car again, she gripped the barrel of the pistol tightly. She raised her arm and swung the butt of the gun against the window in a move reminiscent of the old gangster movies her Dad used to watch. A pistol whip, she remembered him calling it. Two strikes finally shattered the window, and she used the back of the pistol to knock away the big shards, until a loud pop above her made her jump. She looked up toward the back tires and saw one of them in ribbons as it continued spinning. The heat from the friction created by the tire rubbing against the bent frame had made the tire pop, and suddenly there was a ball of flame, which didn’t make sense because cars rarely actually catch on fire as a result of a wreck. That’s one thing the movies always exaggerated. So, explain why the tires just burst into flame then, Avery.

Regardless of the why or how, the sight of the fire froze her heart before it resumed pounding away in her chest as the scent of gasoline hit her again, and a vision of the car exploding tormented her. She quickly stretched into the back seat, ignoring the glass that sliced into her arms from what she hadn’t gotten around to clearing out. She managed to reach the boy’s neck and feel his pulse. Just like the man’s, it was strong and steady, but the boy remained unconscious.

Avery ripped off her t-shirt, glad she always wore a tank-top underneath to avoid being rubbed raw by the grip of her pistol. She placed the shirt over as much of the glass as she could cover, then hurried to crawl back in the car. Avery reached out to click the seat belt release and hoped she could catch the kid and avoid further injuring him. She tried to push the button over and over, but it wouldn’t budge and she realized the strain of the accident must have broken the locking mechanism. She tried to tug on it, but nothing happened.

Avery let out a frustrated growl before quickly scooting back out of the car. She stood up and looked around. Unable to see any immediate first responders, she yelled out “Hey! I need a knife! Anybody have a goddamn knife on them?! You useless fucking rubberneckers” the last part was a murmur to herself as she spun around in a circle.

A big hand reached out and grasped her elbow, stopping her frantic spinning. She looked up and met the big, cowboy hat guy’s eyes as he shoved a open switchblade into her hand. She patted his shoulder in thanks and quickly moved back into the car. 

She grabbed the seatbelt that still held the boy suspended in the air. The fifty seconds it took to saw through the belt felt like hours, and as the last couple of threads finally started to give way to the kid’s weight, she threw the knife out of the car and sent up a silent thanks to the universe for country boys and their obsession with sharp knives.

Avery grabbed the kid’s arm and tried to gently tug him to the side so he wouldn’t faceplant as the belt finally split. She managed to get her hands under his arms and she rushed to pull him backwards out of the vehicle. She felt the glass digging into her ass as she pushed herself back, thankful once again for her jeans and the shirt she laid out.

She managed to get her knees under her and pulled the kid fully out of the car right as the fire spread to the other tire. The sound of the second tire popping shocked her and she fell back, holding the kid to her chest. She sat there and just breathed as her heart pounded, until someone started pulling the child from her. She looked up and met big cowboy hat guy’s eyes again. “I got him, see if you can get the guy out. I’m too big to fit through the window.”

She nodded without saying anything, then crawled on her knees back to the driver’s side window. She searched the ground beside her where she thought she tossed the knife but came up empty handed. Where’d it go? I could’ve sworn I tossed it right here! She raged silently.

She took a calming breath and knelt by the driver’s side window. She glanced towards the back of the car, where the flames looked larger and more menacing. She peered in at the man, about to crawl back in when he finally started to wake up. His eyes fluttered weakly as he groaned “Damian…son? Are you okay?” Then louder, “Damian!”

“Your son is fine. Well, maybe not fine but he’s alive and I got him out already.” She spoke quickly, trying not to betray her nervousness. At her voice, he finally opened his eyes fully and she was struck speechless by the swirling blue and gray colors that surrounded the black of his pupils. Holy shit, his eyes move like mist. He blinked, shaking his head and then she was staring at two normal, blueish gray eyes. Of course they’re normal, you idiot. Swirling eyes don’t exist. 

She shook her head to clear it, “Can you reach the seatbelt?” she asked. “The car is on fire, we need to get you out.” It seemed to take him a second before he understood what she was saying. Then he tried to move his arm, which hung by his head along the roof. A shout of pain escaped him and he froze.

“I think my shoulder is broken. I can’t move it” He grunted, visibly gritting his teeth to hold back whatever sound he wanted to make. 

“Don’t worry, I got you. Just…sorry about this.” She leaned across him, her chest right in his face as she felt around his hip for the latch that she couldn’t see. She finally found it and pressed the button, without considering the effect of gravity on the man’s position.

He tumbled down on top of her, his elbow digging into her ribs before he managed to lift himself up off her by sheer stomach muscles. As he maneuvered onto one arm, she noticed he had pretty long hair for a guy, long enough to pull back into a ponytail and still trail across her face as he turned his head away from her. She hurried to crabwalk forward out of the car.

When she hit the grass again she quickly turned around, intending to reach a hand out and help pull him from the vehicle.

Instead, she heard a loud whoosh and suddenly there was a thick arm across her chest yanking her backwards. She tried to pull away, to get her feet under her to go back but whoever had grabbed her wasn’t having that. Anger flooded her as they toppled to the ground, and she tried to get a look at whoever had her as they rolled away from the car.

They stopped moving and she finally got to her feet. She went to turn towards whatever asshole had pulled her away, but was blasted backwards when the gas tank finally exploded. She flew a good five or six feet and landed awkwardly. She kept her eyes closed and groaned as she sat up. Breathing deeply, she didn’t want to open her eyes. Didn’t want to see what she knew would be there. Swallowing down her emotions, she finally gained the courage to look at the burning wreckage. Her ears rang and her ankle was twisted painfully underneath her, but she managed to stand up and look around, searching for the man.

She looked back at the car that was now just a mass of burning metal as everything finally made sense.

“No!” she screamed, unable to even hear herself yell as the ringing in her ears continued. She gasped great big gulps of air as she dropped to her knees, trying to look into the flames to see if there was any movement. “I had him out! He was coming out!”

She looked around her at the crowd that had backed up another good twenty or thirty feet. They all just stood around silently. When she finally noticed the guy in the cowboy hat beside her, she didn’t even know what to say. Her head felt stuffy and everything sounded like she had cotton balls in her ears. Finally, she said “You pulled me back”, and her voice sounded strange even to her.

“I saw the gas catch. I couldn’t let you—” His voice sounded like it came from twenty feet away, instead of the two feet that actually separated them

“Where’s the boy?” She, somewhat rudely, cut him off. “You took him from me when I pulled him out. Where is he?” She demanded, the ringing in her ears starting to lessen as she waited for his answer.

He pointed towards the ambulance that she hadn’t even noticed “Over there. He’s fine, I think, but…Hey! Why don’t you get your arms checked out? There’s nothing more you can do for –”

Avery just kept walking, ignoring his words. She wiped her bloodied arms against her shirt to try and lessen the vision she was sure she made. Hair wild around her face, wide eyed and trembling as the beginning stages of shock set in, with arms that still dripped red despite her best efforts to staunch the bleeding. She looked exactly how she felt. Hurt and lost.

As she approached the boy on the gurney, the people standing around moved out of her way of their own accord. Even the paramedics, who were working on putting a neck brace on the child, moved to the side as soon as it was secured.

She stared at the little figure strapped onto the gurney. His eyes were closed, and they didn’t open until she reached out to brush a stray hair off his forehead. “Hey, Damian, isn’t it?” she asked softly as she willed her hands to stop trembling.

“Y-yes ma’am. They…they told me you pulled me out. Wh-where’s my Daddy though? Did you save him, too?” The hope in the boy’s eyes broke her heart even more and she struggled to hold in a sob.

Nobody told him? Nobody had…she sighed “I’m so, so sorry, Damian. He was crawling out after me when it just…Another man pulled me back in time but your dad…Oh honey.” She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to be strong for this little boy whose entire life had just been altered. “Sweetie, he didn’t make it. I got blown by the blast and there’s…there’s no way he made it out.”

The tears, when they came, were silent. Not great big wracking sobs like one would expect from a child. But something softer. Wiser, even. As if…as if this wasn’t the first time he had felt this pain.

“Damian, where’s your mom?” Avery asked, “Do you know her phone number? I can ride with you to the hospital and we can call her to meet us there, if that’s okay?”

He just shook his head as the tears fell faster down his plump, little boy cheeks. “She’s…she’s dead too.”

Her heart, if it was possible, broke even further at those words, even if she had suspected as much. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it, holding tightly when she realized he wasn’t going to pull away, despite the blood now marring his otherwise perfect skin. “Don’t worry, kiddo. We’ll figure it out. For now, let’s just make sure you get patched up, okay? I’ll still ride with you, if these nice gentlemen allow me…?” She trailed off with a questioning look at the medic closest to her.

He looked up, eyes sad, and simply nodded. Then he noticed the blood that still dripped down her arms and cleared his throat “Umm…Maybe I can clean up your injuries on the way?”

She just nodded absently. Now that the adrenaline was draining from her body, she felt the stinging pain of the cuts and scratches that littered her skin.

The four of them moved almost as a unit. The two paramedics pushed the gurney over the grass, lifting together when they came upon an uneven section of ground. She wanted to ask them when the fire department would arrive, when they could pull the man’s body out, but didn’t dare in front of the boy. She figured it didn’t really matter, now. There was no way he’d survived. She just hoped that the blast was mercifully quick. Burning to death…I can’t think of any worse way to go. 

Chapter 2

Avery

The ride to the hospital was made in relative silence, minus the occasional siren from the ambulance as they rode through red lights. Avery allowed the medic to clean her arms, only hissing a little when he wiped them down with antiseptic. As soon as he had secured the bandages, she turned back to Damian and grabbed his hand. With that simple touch, she tried to tell him that he wasn’t alone. But, she didn’t say anything. Nobody did. She just sat there in silence, trying to breathe through her mouth to combat the nausea from loss of adrenaline and the overwhelming scent of the antiseptic.

The boy laid there with his eyes closed. She could see him wince when the road turned rough, as most roads in this shitty little city were, but otherwise he remained silent. Even his tears had stopped, and if his grip on her hand hadn’t been so strong, she would have believed him to be asleep.

When they arrived at the hospital, he opened his eyes and tried to smile at Avery as he was whisked away. His attempt at strength just hurt her heart more, and she gave a little wave and a thumbs up, hoping he got her message that everything would be okay.

            She turned to walk down the hallway when one of the paramedics behind her cleared his throat. She spun around and he met her eyes, then clearly looked down at the gun still tucked in her waistband holster, but clearly visible over the top of her pants. She cursed quietly, quickly untucking her tank top and pulling it down to hide the pistol. The butt would definitely chafe her skin, but it was better than freaking out a sweet old nurse or something.

Around here, concealed carry was normal, but open carry still made people uncomfortable, and she hadn’t even thought about the fact that her t-shirt was now just a pile of smoldering ash. 

Avery walked down the hall a little way. She stopped when she reached the nurse’s station, and leaned against the adjacent wall. She wasn’t sure what to do with herself but didn’t want to just leave the kid, either. She wanted to go find a vending machine to get a drink for her parched throat until she remembered she had left her wallet in her car. Which is still sitting on the side of the highway, you moron she thought to herself. With that thought, she wondered how she was going to get back to pick it up, since she hadn’t even grabbed her phone and couldn’t order an Uber, either. It’s not like they had taxis in this shithole.

She looked up from the floor she’d been mindlessly staring at and finally got her first look at a clock. It hadn’t even been an hour since she left the office, excited for a weekend of loneliness and boredom. Boredom sounds really nice right now. Be careful what you wish for, I guess? she mused, then grimaced at her horrible attempt at humor.

It’s barely even been an hour since that man died. Just, fucking died. And you’re trying to crack jokes in your head?

The mental reminder was sobering. She stifled a shudder as the memory of the car flipping taunted her. She remembered her fear when she noticed the little boy and how still he was. The heat of the explosion, being airborne.. Lastly, she pictured a pair of eyes that held swirling blue and grey mists that had entranced her. A figment of your stress-addled mind, obviously.

It wasn’t for another 45 minutes, as she still leaned against the wall refusing to give in to her exhaustion that she was finally approached by somebody.

She looked up at the sound of heavy footsteps and watched a police officer look her up and down as he moved closer. Her face turned red as she once again pictured the way she must look, before she pushed the idea of embarrassment away. After everything that had happened, how she looked didn’t matter.

She shook her head to clear the morbid thoughts away as she studied the man standing in front of her. He was tall, at least three or four inches taller than her five-foot-ten height. She guessed he was in his early to mid-forties by his build, which was still strong but definitely showed the slight softness of age around his midriff. She looked into his eyes and had to suppress a shiver. He had cop eyes. That blank stare police officers who have been around the block a time or twenty develop to hide their true emotions. Those blank eyes were shrouded by heavy eyebrows that didn’t quite seem to fit his face. But, they were the same color as the hair on his head, which he wore slightly longer than she would have expected from an officer. Looking at his badge, she saw ‘Sheriff’ above the name Hadley, and her nerves racketed up a notch.

“Miss? Can I speak to you for a moment?” Sheriff Hadley, she supposed, asked. He was obviously trying to go for the non-threatening, friendly approach as he kept his hands in his pockets and his head cocked in an ‘aw shucks’ sort of position.

“Yes, sir.” She stood up straighter and slid her hands into her front pockets “How can I help you?” She noticed him checking out the raven tattoo on her chest that was just poking up from under her tank top and readjusted her shirt to hopefully look more presentable as she met his eyes.

“My name is Sheriff Hadley, and I just wanted to ask you a few questions about what happened this afternoon” he said while pulling a notepad and a pen from his back pocket.

“Oh, okay. Yeah, that’s fine.” Avery tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and stupidly wished she had a hair brush. “What did you want to know?” She moved to take a seat along the wall, the seat she’d been avoiding because she hadn’t wanted to doze off and miss any news about the boy. She nodded her head toward the empty chairs next to her and hoped he would take the hint, so she wouldn’t have to crane her neck to look up at him.

She breathed a small sigh of relief when he sat down, leaving an empty chair between them. He propped his forearm on his knee, the pen poised in his left hand. “First, can we start with your name and birthday, please?”

“Avery Clarke, June 11^t, 1994. I’m assuming you’ll need my contact information, too?” She asked, running a hand down her mud and blood stained jeans. She scratched her knee absently, the wetness from the ground that had soaked through her pants was still obvious, and she nervously tried to peel the itchy cloth away from her skin.

“I can get all that when we finish up. First, can you tell me what happened on I-70 that resulted in such a horrific accident?” He flipped back a few pages on his notepad to consult whatever he’d written down before coming to find her “It’s my understanding that you’re the individual that pulled the boy from the wreckage, and not the big guy I spoke to just a little bit ago at the scene?” The look of slight disbelief he tried to hide knocked him down a few pegs on Avery’s respect-o-meter, and she hoped she wasn’t dealing with a misogynistic asshole.

“Oh, big cowboy hat guy? Yeah, he was the only other person who wasn’t standing around with a thumb up his ass. He pulled the boy from me after I got him out. Then he saved my life in turn when he pulled me away from the car right before it blew.” She pictured the big man now. It had been his knife she’d used, and she felt a little guilty that it probably went up in flames with the car.

She said as much, before she asked “Do you happen to have his name or phone number? He literally saved my life. I’d like to say thank you, and maybe buy him a new blade since I lost his.” She asked, and a keen feeling of regret settled in her chest when she remembered how she had spoken to him last.

“Sure, I can call him and ask if he minds me giving it to you. But first, back to the accident…?” He urged, clearly intent to get back on track.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Well, can I speak plainly, sir?” she questioned. When he nodded she continued, “Well, first off, that definitely wasn’t a fucking accident.” At that his bushy eyebrows raised in surprise, so she went on “There was a black SUV coming up behind me, fast as hell, ya know? So, I moved over to the right lane to let him pass. Then I switched back to the left lane because honestly, fuck the slow lane. I just wanted to get home.” She glanced over at him, but ignored the slight curl of his lip as he wrote in his notepad.

“So, I move back over behind this guy, who had to have been doing at least ninety-five, probably closer to a hundred, because he blew past me and I was doing eighty-five” She cringed as she said that last part. She could only hope she wouldn’t be going home with a speeding ticket since that stretch had a fifty-five speed limit.

The sheriff smirked but didn’t say anything, continuing to write as she spoke. Avery tried to see what he was writing but didn’t want to be too obvious in her nosiness. Deciding to stop worrying about her inevitable traffic citation, she continued to tell him what happened. How the SUV swerved in and out of the lane, and especially how intentional the movements seemed to be when he clipped their back bumper.

“Honestly, there’s no way anyone could misjudge distance that severely. Especially not somebody who was brave enough to even attempt to pass on the shoulder. I’ve been driving for a living for years, and I can almost guarantee whoever was in that car knew exactly what they were doing.” She concluded, leaning back in the chair. She ran her hand through her hair, pushing it out of her face as she tried to comb her fingers through it. She gave that idea up when her ring got caught and yanked a couple strands of hair from her head.

The sheriff nodded as he wrote, then stuck the end of his pen in his mouth and started chewing on it thoughtfully. “Do you remember what kind of car it was? Approximate year, make, model…anything, really?” he inquired after he took the pen out of his mouth.

“I just know it was a black Ford SUV, one of the bigger models and it looked shiny and new. Maybe an Expedition? I didn’t even think to catch the license plate when he was in front of me.” She sighed in annoyance with herself. The one time I don’t play acronym games with the license plate in front of me is of course the one time I fucking should have she thought as she shook her head at the irony of it.

“Shit. You don’t remember any part of it?” He asked. She shook her head, “Did you see what the driver looked like at all?”

“No, sir. I’m sorry. I wasn’t really paying attention, plus his windows were tinted pretty darkly” she sighed as she began rubbing her arms that were now starting to itch from the bandages. What I wouldn’t give for a shower right now. Except I don’t even know how I’m getting back to my car yet she thought.

“Um, I was trying to wait until I heard news about how Damian is doing. But, is there any way I can catch a ride out to I-70 later? I left my work car out there and—”

“Oh, don’t worry about that” he interrupted her. “Josh…cowboy hat guy, I think you called him?” he questioned, and she nodded, “He drove it in here not long after y’all arrived. I had one of my deputies take him out to pick up his own truck about twenty minutes ago. Your Jeep is right outside in the ER parking lot…” He trailed off as he flipped his notepad back a few pages “yeah, he said he left the keys in the center console” he said as he stood up, rubbing the back of his neck like it was aching.

“Oh, well fuck. I didn’t even see him here. And he’s kind of hard to miss with that hat” she chuckled as she stood as well. “Well, if there isn’t anything else…?” she hedged as she glanced back at the nurse’s station. The doctor that had directed where to take Damian was just coming down the hallway from that direction.

“Just your contact information, in case I need to get ahold of you with any more questions” Sheriff Hadley stated. He handed her his notepad and pen and she jotted down her information, thankful that her hands had finally stopped shaking and her handwriting was somewhat legible. Well, as legible as hers ever was, which would have to do.

She handed him back his notepad and the sheriff held out his other hand, which she grasped. He squeezed hers slightly “Not many people would have stepped up like you did. Which, well, is obvious since apparently, everybody else was just standing around with their thumbs up their asses, as you so eloquently put it” he smirked. She snorted at that, then quickly covered her mouth with her hand in embarrassment. Why’d they even get out of their damn cars if they weren’t going to help? She wondered, before she realized that questions like that never really had a good answer. ‘Human curiosity’ would probably be the most accurate, if unsatisfying response.

The Sheriff patted the back of her hand with his now empty left hand, which made her realize that she was still participating in the longest handshake she had ever experienced.

“I’m serious. You saved that little boy’s life. He is extremely lucky that such a quick-thinking individual was there and willing to help when needed. I don’t know what possessed you to jump out of your vehicle, but I’m certain that he will be grateful to you for the rest of his life” his eyes shined in what could only be described as shocked admiration, and Avery found her cheeks warming at his praise.

He finally dropped her now sweaty hand, which she surreptitiously wiped against her hip, unintentionally lifting the bottom of her shirt, which exposed the butt of her concealed weapon that poked above her waistband.

Sheriff Hadley raised an eyebrow when he spotted it, but oddly enough, didn’t ask to see her permit. Which, she was grateful for as her wallet was in her car, which was now parked on the other side of the hospital that she did not feel like trekking through right then.

She forced a small smile and nodded, unable to force words out of her mouth right then.

“Thank you, sir. I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful in pinning down the asshole that caused all this” she finally managed to force through her suddenly dry throat.

“Don’t you worry about that, miss. You’ve done more than enough today. Hell, even this year. You take care of yourself now, alright? I’ll be in touch if we need anything else.” He started to walk away.

“Oh, Sheriff!” She called out, a little more loudly than intended “What’s going to happen to the boy? He said both his parents were gone so…” she trailed off before clearing her throat again “I just want to make sure he has somewhere to go when they release him” She finished hesitantly. She wasn’t sure of her place in this matter, but at the same time, it wasn’t in Avery to not care or worry about the unexpected orphan.

“Oh, well when he’s allowed visitors, we’re going to go in and find out if he has any other family. If not, then we have an emergency foster family on call that will be able to come pick him up and house him until we find something more permanent,” he explained, running his hand down his face, which revealed that he was a lot more exhausted than she had originally judged.

Avery sighed in relief. Even though she couldn’t quite figure out what she would have done had his answer been different. She hadn’t expected them to force the kid onto the streets, but she couldn’t shake this protective streak she felt about Damian now.

“Thank you for letting me know” she smiled “I’m gonna go try and find out if they know anything yet. Nice talking to you, Sheriff. I really hope you catch the guy that did this,” She said. Avery turned back to the nurse’s station, where the doctor was still talking to what looked like the head nurse.

Avery listened to the sheriff’s footsteps fade away before she finally approached the desk. “Hello, I was wondering if there was any news on Damian? He was brought in about…well, almost two hours ago, now?” She checked the clock on the wall.

“Well, we usually can’t give any information to anyone that’s not the patient’s immediate family. But, we heard what you did for him, so…” the nurse went on to explain all of the kid’s injuries. Much more than what Avery originally thought, especially since he hadn’t uttered a peep about his pain the whole ride here. But, all in all he got off lucky.

Damian had a broken collar bone from the seatbelt doing what it was supposed to do, some whip lash and strain on his upper vertebrae, so he would be stuck in a neck brace for another few days as his muscles mended, and a minor concussion from cracking his head against the window. That explains the blood I saw. Head wounds always bleed like a bitch, even if they’re minor, she thought, as the nurse finished listing his injuries.

“He’ll be able to leave in about a day or two, but he’ll be stuck in a sling until that collarbone heals, and a neck brace until the inflammation goes down,,” the nurse explained. “We have him sedated now, since the doctor just reset the bone, but he should wake up in a few hours” she smiled, trying to convey some level of comfort in her tone.

Avery just nodded and asked if she could leave her phone number to be notified when he’s released. The nurse handed her a pen and post-it to write her information down, then handed her a parking token. “I heard the sheriff say your car was in the lot, you’ll need one of these to get out of here.”

She smiled her thanks, slipped the token into her pocket and started making her way out of the hospital. Her ankle throbbed from how she had landed on it after the blast, but she ignored the slight pain as she made her way down the hallway.

It was a good ten-minute walk through the maze of hallways. Luckily Avery knew this hospital like the back of her hand, thanks to weeks spent exploring it with her older brother when her mom was laid up after a heart attack years ago. This was before the age of smartphones, so at the time there wasn’t much to do to amuse themselves. Thankfully, the hospital hadn’t changed the general layout, even if it had gone through a few remodels by then. Nope, still too cheap to put any more than the bare minimum amount of money to keep the doors open. She thought as she walked, staring at the chipped paint and scuffs around the wall bumpers.

Avery stepped out of the emergency room doors. She took a big breath of the fresh evening air and sighed as her whole body seemed to relax. Hospitals were never her favorite place, which is why she hadn’t asked to have her ankle looked at. The less amount of time she had to spend there, the better.

It was the middle of summer and the sun was just starting to drop over the horizon at 8 o’clock. She couldn’t help but smile as her body soaked in the last bit of sunlight before night fell. She loved this time of year, just knowing that it was after eight and the sun was still shining put a smile on her face. She looked around for Old Faithful, quickly spotting the black matte rust bucket at the back of the lot across the street. The poor Jeep always stuck out like a sore thumb when she brought it into town.

She crossed the road as fast as her ankle would allow and walked through the lot. Josh, apparently, was thoughtful enough to park it at the back corner so it wouldn’t take up spaces needed for people who were actually hurt.

She reached the driver’s side door and pulled it open. On the seat sat a folded peach colored ‘missed delivery’ note. She grabbed it and opened it up, finding Josh’s name and phone number scrawled messily in the little bit of blank space available.

Huh, guess I don’t have to bug the Sheriff again when he calls. She mused to herself as she tucked the note in her pocket. She felt the parking token and pulled it out as she climbed in, tossing it into the empty cup holder. After she closed the door, she just sat there for a minute, head tilted back and eyes closed, Avery forced her body to relax by taking slow, deep breaths. She reached for the ignition before she remembered that her keys were…yep, right in the center console where she was told. She smiled to herself as she inserted the key, gave it its customary wiggle, then cranked the engine.

She turned up the radio before pulling out of the lot. She had to stretch across the passenger seat to put the token in the machine, then she was home free. As she snapped her seatbelt into place, the feel of the belt in her hand brought up the memory of the little boy hanging upside down. She rubbed her hand over her face to clear the vision away. I hope he has family that can take him in. Kid that young shouldn’t be without somebody who loves him, she thought.

Right as she turned the corner, her stomach growled loudly and she remembered she hadn’t yet eaten that day. The urge to facepalm was hard to suppress when she remembered the Tupperware full of the lunch she’d prepared today, which was still sitting in her fridge at home. Along with all the other leftovers she still had to toss. She always made herself a lunch and always forgot to grab it, so they just sat in her fridge until she finally went through and cleaned it out.

She sighed at her own absent mindedness and pulled into the local Wendy’s, having decided to forgo the healthy eating she had been trying to stick to for the last few weeks. Fries dipped in a chocolate frosty sounded like the perfect kind of comfort food for the day she’d had. Her stomach rumbled again as she pulled up to the speaker, thankful there wasn’t much of a line.

She placed her order, then pulled up to wait, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel along to the low music pumping through her car. When she got up to the window, she ignored the raised eyebrow of the worker when he caught sight of her bandaged forearms, and it only took a few more minutes to actually get her food in hand. She put her lemonade in one cup holder and popped the lid off her Junior Frosty to put it in the other, then quickly grabbed a handful of fries and dunked them in the frosty before she shoved them into her mouth like the starving heathen she was.

Avery finished her fries while she drove, pulling up in front of her house in what felt like no time at all. She climbed out of the Jeep, grabbed her food, drink, and purse and limped up the short walkway to the front door of her old, two-story farmhouse. I really need to get around to fixing those shingles. She thought as she looked up at the roof. Along with the shingles, the gutter was also bent and twisted from when a tree branch fell on it during a bad thunderstorm a few months ago. It looked a bit more rundown than it actually was, but some TLC was overdue. The white vinyl siding had turned yellow with age and lack of being washed by anything except Mother Nature’s rain, and the grass needed to be cut again. A never ending headache during the spring and summer, but it still beat the ice and cold of winter.

She opened the outer glass door, making sure she caught it before it banged against the wall, since the hydraulic arm had been broken for about a year now and every time she remembered to do it, she, well, just didn’t feel like doing it right then. So it stayed broken, and she’d learned to anticipate the free-swinging door.

She took a deep breath of the fresh country air, tinted with a hint of honeysuckle and mint that she grew behind her house. Tea with mint sounds really good right now she thought, then scrapped the idea when her ankle throbbed. She didn’t really want to try traversing the yard in the dark on a sprained ankle.

As she went to step into the door, movement out of the corner of her eye made her pause to stare at the tall grass about thirty feet from the side of her house. She squinted to try to see better, but nothing new popped out at her. She shook off the sudden feeling of being watched and stepped inside, closing the door behind her. Probably just a deer, you pussy. Even still, after a second of debate, she threw the deadbolt on. Something she hadn’t done in three years because honestly, who the hell would bother her all the way out here? Anyone looking to rob the place would have about fifty houses that were clearly better targets that they’d have to drive past to get there.

The smell of the new wax melt she put on this morning was the first thing she noticed as she kicked off her shoes by the door then walked past her living room that doubled as her office area. The kiwi-melon scent made her still hungry stomach growl even louder. The fries were good, but she had only gotten a small one so she wouldn’t completely hate herself for her poor food choice, which meant she was still rather famished.

Pulling her phone from her purse she laid it on the counter before hanging her purse on its designated hook by the kitchen doorway. Then she opened the drawer right underneath, unclipped her pistol, which thankfully was no worse for wear after the earlier abuse, and placed it in the drawer, still in its holster, and slid it shut.

She reached in the Wendy’s bag to grab the source of the delicious aroma that was still teasing her senses. The groan she let out at that first bite was audible, and she thanked her lucky stars that she’d managed to avoid needing a roommate so far. 

She walked back through her living room, over to the fish tank that sat along the wall next to the big picture window. As she fed herself, she grabbed the can of fish food off the mantle of the boarded up fireplace and sprinkled some food in the tank. The three goldfish were the only pets she allowed herself to have. Since she worked so much and lived alone, she didn’t think it was fair to get a dog or a cat, or any animal that thrived on human interaction and attention.

She watched the fish eat as she finished off her burger. Then crumpled up the wrapper and went back into the kitchen to throw it and the now empty paper bag away. Her lemonade went into the fridge for tomorrow, though. 

Sighing, she looked around. Well, one perk of living alone? No one to make a mess that I have to clean up, she thought as she looked at the empty sink and clean table that rarely got used now.

She finally made her way back through the living room and up the stairs to her bedroom. Passing the closed doors on either side, it was a struggle not to think about why they were empty, when they should have been filled by now. Cleaning up messes would be worth it if things could have been different.

Shaking off those thoughts, Avery started stripping as soon as she hit her bedroom doorway. She threw her dirty, and probably permanently stained clothes in the hamper in the corner of the room, then made a beeline to the en-suite bathroom. Flicking on the light, she purposely avoided looking in the mirror as she opened up the medicine cabinet to pull out new gauze and medical tape.

She moved to turn on the shower and debated on making use of the jacuzzi tub, but she’d be the idiot that fell asleep and drowned herself in her own tub that people read about on the internet. As she waited for the water to heat up, she unwrapped the bandages around her arms, gritting her teeth as they came unstuck from the multitude of cuts on the insides of her forearms. Damn, I’m lucky I didn’t need any stitches, she tells herself as she finally got a good look at the damage that hadn’t really bothered her until now. There were a few cuts that looked like they might scar, but she honestly didn’t care. She would have taken a hundred more scars if it would have made her fast enough to save that boy’s father.

Testing the water, she turned down the cold just enough to make it slightly too hot, then stepped into the tub. As the scalding hot water hit her neck and shoulders, she hung her head and let the stress of the day drain out of her as the water sluiced down her body. Now, she felt like she could let it out. Let the tears fall to join with the water flowing down the drain. But, she found herself unable to cry. She knew she wanted to, she knew it would probably help. But, nothing would come out.

That made her angry for some reason. She quickly grabbed her shampoo and started her shower ritual. The familiar routine of her actions calmed her down, and by the time she turned the water off, she wasn’t angry anymore. She was just tired. That bone deep exhaustion that people only felt after a really taxing day..

She wrapped her hair, then stepped out to dry off, being careful of her injuries. With the towel secured tightly around her she stepped up to the sink to grab her toothbrush. Finally she let her eyes fall on the mirror, and it almost looked like a stranger was staring back at her. Her usually bright green eyes were dull, with blue circles underneath. Her mouth was drawn, as if she couldn’t remember how to smile, and there was a bruise forming on her cheek but she couldn’t recall how she got it. She shook her head at herself and squeezed some toothpaste onto her brush. After she’d rinsed with some mouthwash, she grabbed the medical supplies off the counter and walked back into her bedroom.

She sat on her bed and debated about how she would rebandage her arms, which had started bleeding again, slowly dripping down her skin. Using one piece of gauze, she wiped up the blood before placing a couple clean pieces over the worst of the wounds. She used her teeth to rip off long pieces of the tape to hold them in place. Satisfied with her work, she moved to her dresser, searching through her drawers for her favorite pajamas. Harry Potter pajama pants and a slightly holey Bring Me the Horizon tour shirt were her comfort clothes, as she liked to call them. The tour shirt was from the last concert she went to with Rylan before he died, and it was one of the few things that made her smile when she thought of her deceased husband. But, she still didn’t want to sleep in what was their bed tonight. Most nights it was okay, but she knew the sight of the big empty bed would be too much for her fragile state of mind tonight.

Avery made her way back downstairs. After a quick detour into the kitchen to grab her phone off the counter, she moved back into the living room. There she set a pillow against the armrest, grabbed the blanket that was folded at the end of the couch, found the remote, and finally sat down on the big, oversized monstrosity of a couch that she had found at a local yard sale.

Avery pulled the towel off her head and groaned, realizing she’d forgotten her brush upstairs. Fuck it, I’ll deal with the tangles tomorrow she thought, trying to comb her fingers through the tangled wet strands. Grabbing the remote from the floor where it had fallen, she flicked on the big smart TV that she rarely watched. I should probably donate it and get something smaller, she thought, not for the first time. But it was Rylan’s TV and she couldn’t quite part with it.

As she waited for it to start up, she grabbed her phone and finally switched it off silent. Scrolling through the notifications she’d gotten over the last 5 hours, she cleared most of them until she came to a text message from Sherry:

7:15pm: Girl, what the actual fuck?!

7:16pm: Why am I seeing you on the news pulling a kid from a burning car?!

7:25pm : CALL ME!!!!

Avery cringed, feeling guilty for not turning her sound back on. She quickly texted back:

11:23pm: I’m sooo sorry. I had my phone on silent still and well…fuck. I’ll call and tell you everything tomorrow. Promise. I’m fucking beat. I’m fine though, don’t worry. <3 <3

She reached behind her for her charger wire she always left on the end table, plugged her phone in and set it beside her. She was fairly certain she’d be getting a few calls in the morning, if the news station already had video of the aftermath of the accident.

She sighed and rolled on her side, clicked the Netflix icon and quickly decided on something humorous to hopefully lessen whatever nightmares she was fairly certain she’d have tonight.

She only made it through one episode before sleep claimed her.

Chapter 3

Derek

The wheel jerking from my hands. Spinning. A sharp crack and blazing pain.

The world flipping upside down, the smell of gasoline and burnt rubber.

Gorgeous green eyes, bright with fear, locked on mine.

Damian…the girl with the green eyes said he was fine.

Falling on top of her. Crawling after her on one arm.

Fire, more pain, then… darkness.

The images flashed through his mind as he slept. Daryl’s confusion grew as he slowly awoke to realize that he wasn’t on fire anymore, despite the way his skin feeling like it was. He wasn’t even in the car anymore, if the way he was lying flat on his back was any indication. He blinked his eyes to clear them, but all he could see was darkness surrounding him.  Not a single bit of light poked through. He sighed.

Well, this is fantastic. He extended his fingers a bit to test his theory, cursing inwardly when he felt exactly what he expected. Vinyl. Goddamn humans and their body bags. He stretched his fingers out again to poke at the blackness surrounding him. Then again, a bag is better than a furnace he thought as he pushed his arms out slowly, allowing the coolness of the smooth vinyl to soothe his burning skin. Being careful not to make any easily visible movements, he took a deep breath. Or, tried to. The stale, stuffy air and the scent of his own burnt flesh almost made him gag and realize that he really needed to find a way to get fresh oxygen in here. His body wouldn’t necessarily die without it, but not being able to breathe when he was awake made him really uncomfortable. He didn’t need oxygen to survive like humans did. His inner life force provided all the energy he needed. However, he did need air to talk and express himself. And despite the fact that he wouldn’t be talking to anyone while laying in the bag, being denied that ability was a lot different than simply choosing not to do it.

Taking shallow breaths through his mouth instead, he finally convinced his stomach to halt its rebellion. As he listened for any movement, he came to a few conclusions. The lack of movement and jostling told him that he had likely already been transported to the morgue. The absence of sound around him, even the soft breathing of a sleeping attendant, let him know that for the moment, nobody else was in the room with him. Lastly, his body was still damaged. Primarily the skin on his legs and torso was almost completely gone. He felt exposed and raw to the point that just the air movements he was creating with his shallow breathing were excruciating against whatever parts of his body were currently exposed. He couldn’t even move his legs at all yet, which meant there was extensive muscle damage. Truthfully, he was glad that he couldn’t see anything yet. Nobody should see their own insides on the outside he thought. Luckily his arms had somehow only been minorly burnt, which explained why the cool plastic felt good. And his broken shoulder didn’t hurt like it had in the car, which meant it had either been reset by whoever had moved him or had simply healed itself. Lastly, he rubbed his head side to side, and when he didn’t hear the scratch of hair on the bag, he tried not to cringe at the image of patchy baldness that came to mind.

With that knowledge, he decided to take the time now, while he wouldn’t be disturbed, to focus his natural healing ability to where he could feel he needed it most. But first, air. He, ironically, used heat to accomplish his mission. Pulling his hand up by his face awkwardly, he extended his index finger until he touched the part of the bag that was beside his ear, as close to the table as he could reach so it would hopefully be out of sight. Then, he got angry. Very angry. He thought about the SUV swiping his car off the road. He thought about the people whom he knew to be responsible. He thought about his lost love, and the fact that he had no idea where his son was right now. He thought about the fact that his song almost died today. All that anger built up and electricity started flickering across his skin. He held onto that rage and focused the power into his finger, holding his breath to help him focus. He quickly shot off a small stream of electricity, until he finally saw a pinpoint of light through the bag,  He poked at it with his finger to make it a little bigger, then turned his head to quickly inhale the small stream of fresh air, exhaling heavily as he counted, calming himself until the feeling of static in the air finally dissipated.  

After a few deep breaths, he started his healing process. He focused on his lower body first, the part of him that would take him home. The fact that he couldn’t feel or move them meant they were royally fucked up. But the numbness he felt in his lower body was better than the incessant burning he felt over his chest and stomach as his burnt nerve endings tried to repair themselves. He could deal with the pain though, push it to the back of his mind as he focused. Years of training had made sure of that.

As he pushed his focus, he started on his feet, realigning bones and knitting muscle back together. As he heard the snapping of his bones resetting themselves into proper alignment, he pictured his feet absorbing the burnt flesh that encased them and replacing it with fresh, pink flesh and muscle. As he rebuilt the skin around the raw muscle, the wet slurping sound of old skin being absorbed reached his ears and he struggled not to picture how bad his skin really must be. Soon enough, picturing the damage was the last thing on his mind as his nerve endings came back to life and it took every ounce of willpower he had to remain silent as pain shot through parts of his body that were previously burnt to the point of numbness. He could feel the muscle knitting back together, sticking to the plastic of the bag he was currently stuck in and he couldn’t help but pull his leg away from the vinyl, the movement creating a sound similar to what it sounds like when someone quickly rips a band-aid off. He gritted his teeth as he finally started on his outer skin, burnt and frayed nerve endings once again coming to brutal life as he slowly covered his exposed muscle with new, soft skin. Twenty minutes later, as he healed the last patch of skin on his knee, he let out a huge breath of relief. He quickly stilled, panicked that somebody was there.

After a minute or two of continued silence, he relaxed and continued focusing his healing to the rest of his body. His torso was the second worst, after his legs. With his internal scan he could tell that his innards were all where they were supposed to be, but his skin was like charred leather, cracking and peeling every time he breathed deeply. Finally, he was satisfied. Although his newly healed skin was pretty tender, kind of like the extra sensitive skin that forms under a scab, he would at least be able to get himself out of there. He hoped, anyway.

After he had finished healing the majority of his skin, he decided to also regrow his eyebrows, eyelashes, and some of the hair on his head, though he definitely wasn’t going to waste the energy bringing it back to its former shoulder length glory. A lot of people could pull off the bald look, he definitely was not one of those people, though. Plus, remember that picture of Anne Hathaway without eyebrows that went viral years ago?  he thought, nobody looks good without eyebrows. Not even Anne Hathaway.

Not hearing any noises, he took a chance and breathed in deeply, forgetting to breathe through his mouth again, he was once again assaulted by the lingering stench of his own burnt flesh. This time he gagged and very nearly upchucked whatever was left in his stomach, because honestly, it smelled a lot like the steak he had earlier that day for lunch, which just did weird things to his mind. Thankfully, he managed to hold it all in. Swimming in vomit in a leakproof plastic bag really did not sound like a good time.

As he focused a little extra healing towards his arms, as they still felt raw, he finally heard the sound of a door opening.

He slowed his breathing and held still as who he assumed was the security guard walked past the table he was laying on. As the man passed, he patted the bag, muttering something about being ‘extra crispy,’ which had Daryl stifling his own morbid chuckle.

Some rap song that sounded vaguely familiar started playing loudly from a cellphone nearby and Daryl almost jumped. The tune was promptly moved away and cut off, the moment of silence was quickly broken by “Yoo! What’s up babe? …Oh! Shit, hold on…yeah, I do have your card. Want to swing by and grab it?” his voice turned flirtatious “Jeff left for the day so it’s just me, we can—” he paused, and Daryl couldn’t quite squash the desire he had to hear the other side of the conversation.

“Yeah yeah, fine. Alright, just text me when you get here and I’ll run it out to you. Love you too. Bye.” The last of that sounded dejected, and Daryl felt a little sympathy for the poor guy who had apparently been denied his request for a quick hook-up at work.

The sound of a chair rolling startled him, followed by a soft wumph that must have been the guy dropping into said chair. Daryl settled in to wait and silently hoped the girlfriend didn’t live that far away. He needed to get out of there and find out where Damian had been taken.  He worried this would be his only chance to sneak out.

            As he waited, he thought about his son who was only 9 years old and now a supposed orphan. He thinks I’m dead, Jesus Christ, I’m not ready to explain all this shit yet he thought, then wondered how Damian was handling everything. He was such a strong kid. Smart, too. And so incredibly caring. Daryl figured he got that from his mother, just like his looks. He looked so much like his mother that sometimes Daryl couldn’t even stand to look at him. Then there’d be days where he couldn’t stand to look away because he missed her so much, and Damian reminded him of her.

At least I know he’s okay and he got out of the car he thought, followed unbidden by the memory of bright green eyes looking into his. Whoever the girl was, if I could kiss her feet in thanks for getting him out first, well…she’d probably kick me in the face to stop. He wished he knew her name, or anything about her. But all he knew for sure was that she was kind, strong, and selfless. And she had saved his son’s life, which was not something he would ever forget.

And she didn’t flinch at your eyes, you idiot he told himself, which means she’s either incredibly unobservant, or she’s one of us, or knows about us. At that thought his breath started coming faster and he had to physically force himself to count to five while he held his breath to calm his racing heart. He tried to brush away that worry with the knowledge that human’s tendency to see only what they wanted to see was what had enabled his kind to hide among them, separate but within, for millennia.

The few who did know, generally only gained that knowledge because they were useful in some shape or form, or expendable. Or both. It was forbidden to reveal their true nature to outsiders. But, Daryl never liked following the rules. Which was exactly why he was in the predicament he was in then. 

His kind were exceptionally hard to kill. Which is how he knew they weren’t trying to kill him today.  They were trying to kill Damian. Which meant that someone knew what he was and had told his people where to find him. Only his best friend knew, and he trusted that man with his life. More importantly, he trusted him with Damian’s life. He’d had years to betray Daryl if that was ever his intention, so he saw no reason to doubt that trust now.

As he laid there and contemplated who it could be, he grew angry. No, angry was too tame of a word. He grew furious. Pissed straight the fuck off that someone would even think that killing a child just for existing was an acceptable course of action. 

He didn’t realize his anger was manifesting into power until the scent of burnt plastic reached his nose, creating a horrid mixture with the previously strong scent of burnt…well, him. He breathed in through his mouth and out through his nose until he could feel the electricity flowing over his skin absorb back into his body as his heartbeat slowed and his rage eased. As he calmed himself, there was a loud ‘ding’ of an incoming text message, which immediately halted cooled his anger. Daryl heard the guard stand up and push the chair again.

Quick footsteps echoed through the room. The sound as the door swished open and shut let him know that he was finally alone. Daryl waited an extra thirty seconds before his impatience got the best of him. He wiggled the tip of his finger into the slight gap at the top of the zipper and slowly peeled it down.

He inhaled the cool air deeply, like a drowning man finally breaking the surface of a lake. The break from the hot, stuffy, burnt flesh scented air he was breathing in the bag was a welcome relief. He sat up slowly, blinking to help his eyes adjust to the onslaught of light as he took stock of his body. 

Skin is whole, if tender, hair on my head and face is there. He thought. Then he rotated the shoulder that had been broken, A little stiff but I can deal with it. 

Since he was now certain that he was in the morgue, he knew that the attendant had to go up one floor to get outside. That gave him maybe five minutes to get the hell out without being caught. 

He moved quickly as he pulled his legs out of the bag first. He went to throw his legs over the side of the table to stand up and immediately swayed on his feet. Apparently you used more power in your healing than you thought, dumbass. He shook his head to clear away the dizziness.

He looked around the room and spotted a cabinet labeled ‘Linens.’ Moving quickly, he walked over to it, trying to failing to ignore the shock of cold against his still tender feet. As a shiver moved through his body he pulled out as many sheets as he could see. He took those back to the body bad he recently occupied and started stuffing the sheets in it. He fluffed them up as much as he could and hoped it was enough to resemble a grown man’s body. He zipped it closed and stepped back to admire his handiwork.

As he nodded in approval, he again took stock of his surroundings, hoping to spot a gym bag or a pile of clothes. Unfortunately, all he could see was a long lab coat hanging on a hook by the door. When he walked over to it, he was happy to see a pair of sneakers placed underneath it. He grabbed those as he pulled the coat onto one arm. He quickly checked the size on the tongue of the shoes and groaned in annoyance before placing them back where they were. No way I’m gonna try to fit my size thirteen feet into a size ten shoe. Fucking ow.

He took one last glance around the room to make sure he hadn’t left any obvious signs that a formerly dead body just got up and walked out. Satisfied with the state of the room, he grabbed the door handle and eased it open.

He poked his head out, looked back in forth down the hallway. When he didn’t see or hear anyone, he stepped out and closed the door behind him before he dashed down the hallway towards the stairwell.

Right as he opened the door to the stairs, the elevator behind him groaned before it chimed its arrival with the security guard. He breezed into the stairwell as he heard the swish of the elevator doors opening, lab coat billowing behind him and nearly getting caught in the door. Damn good thing I opted for the stairs.

He jogged up the steps, the new muscles in his legs protesting as the cold cement shocked the overly sensitive skin on the bottom of his feet, chilling him to the bone. When he hit the first landing between levels, he shivered and decided to stop for a moment to focus a little extra energy into toughening up the skin on his soles. Now the freezing cement was just mildly uncomfortable, rather than the cause of full-body shivers.

He finished his jaunt up the stairs and approached the door to the main level. He peeked out of the window at the top of the door, trying to see as far as he could down either side of the hallway. 

When he didn’t see anyone or any moving shadows, he opened the door and walked out. He tried to walk silently as he inched his way past framed reprints of generic ‘uplifting’ art that was common in most low-budget hospitals. All rainbows and butterflies, with a few ‘Wash Your Hands’ and ‘Cover your cough’ posters thrown in. Their attempt to break up the stark sterility of the place reminded him of the compound where he grew up. In both places the effort was laughable at best and sad at worst. But, at least they tried.

As he slowly moved down the hallway, he looked around for any directional signage, even hoping for a bright red ‘EXIT’ sign. Of course, I’m not that lucky, though. That would just make life easier, wouldn’t it?

When he reached the end of the hallway he paused to listen. When he was about to poke his head out to check if anyone was within earshot, he heard muffled voices mixed with the sound of footsteps growing closer.

He looked behind him and groaned when he saw the nearest supply closet, a good twenty feet away. He could shift there, but he knew he didn’t have a whole lot of juice left.

He made a split-second decision, since obscuring took less power. He concentrated and willed his hands to blur until they were nearly invisible. The rest of his body followed, including the lab coat he was wearing. Obscuring was hard, but since he was only changing the way his body appeared to humans, it used a lot less energy than shifting, which involved breaking his essence down to the molecular level and willing it to another location that he had to maintain focus on.

Confident in his relative invisibility, he waited as the two talking passed by him, content to ignore them and just focus on staying upright and invisible. All I need is to be mistaken for a crazy naked guy and taken to 3A. He thought, before something the passing nurse said caught his attention. “Kid is an orphan at 9 years old, and they say he hasn’t even shed a tear since they brought him in” the tall one said. “Hope the foster family coming to get him knows—” the shorter nurse faded off as they rounded the corner to the next wing.

Damian realized that his son was in the very same hospital he was now trying to escape from. The knowledge gave him hope, before reality set back in. I’m not strong enough to shift with him right now, and he doesn’t know what I am…what he might be. I’ll have to come back for him when I’m stronger. He decided. He had never looked forward to trying to explain his people and why they didn’t live with them. He had always thought he had more time to prepare. But it looked like that time had just expired if he wanted to get his son back.

He shook the gloomy thought away and refocused on finding a way out of this damned hospital. As he walked down the hallway, he finally came upon a directional sign and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the way to the entrance pointed in the direction he was traveling.

He moved slowly now, careful not to create a draft of air with his movements as he snuck down the hallway. Obscuring wasn’t perfect invisibility, but as long as nobody looked real hard, it was damn near close. Like looking at a parking lot on a really hot day. That distortion in the air from the hot cement? That’s what somebody who is obscured looks like. It wasn’t too common, but it wasn’t a super rare ability in his people, either.

Finally he reached the main lobby, and the doors outside. He looked around as he approached the doors, glad that there was nobody around. He stepped up to doors and as they whooshed open, he hoped that whoever was manning the security feeds just chocked it up to a weird technological malfunction.

He had to stop himself from running out of the hospital, his desire for freedom was so strong. As his bare feet hit the concrete outside, his whole body relaxed. He walked down the block and took a look around. When he spotted a street sign he smiled in relief. His best friend, Clayton, lived near the hospital. Luckily he only lived a block away from the side of the hospital Daryl had come out of. He looked up at the sky as he started walking, trying to gauge the time of night by the moon’s position in the sky, and instead almost walked into a telephone pole.

He stopped walking and shook his head at himself before continuing his short trek. Guess it doesn’t really matter what time it is. He can yell at me later for waking him up, he thought as he finally came to Clayton’s street. 

He walked straight to the old brick townhouse that his friend owned. Clayton had inherited it when his father died, which was the only reason he still lived here. He hated living in town but wanted to hold onto whatever memories he could. Right then, Daryl was thankful for his friend’s sentimentality, or he would’ve had a hell of a hike across town to his own house. 

He looked up at the windows as he approached, hoping to see a light on or any indication that Clayton was still awake, but saw only darkness and the reflection of the streetlights in the windows. Clayton’s going to kick my ass for this he thought as he pressed the doorbell. It took three more rings until he finally heard muffled cursing and movement from inside, then the door was yanked open.

“What the…huh?” His friend said as he blinked in his direction. When Daryl saw him look back and forth, he finally remembered.

“Oh! Shit! Sorry dude” he said as he finally dropped his obscuration, becoming visible once more.

Clayton jumped back in surprise “Jesus christ on a cracker, Daryl! What the fuck?!” he panted, with his hand over his chest “Somebody better be fucking dead or dying if you’re waking me up at 2:30 in the goddamn morning, or you will be dying in the next three minutes.” He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, somehow never dropping the glare currently aimed at his best bud.

Daryl looked at his friend, and actually felt guilty for waking him. At 6’3 and 250 pounds, Clayton wasn’t a small guy. But tonight he looked smaller, as if the weight of the world was weighing him down, crushing more than just his spirit, but his physical body, too. His shaggy, dark blonde hair looked unkempt and dirty, like he hadn’t showered in a few days. There was a two-day growth on his wide, angular face, and his eyes looked sunken into his usually robust face. Daryl knew he’d been tending to his mother lately but hadn’t realized the toll that it must have been taking on him. Guilt for heaping more on his plate ate at him, but at the same time, Daryl didn’t have anyone else to go to.

When Clayton’s eyes finally met his, Daryl tried to crack a smile as he said “Well, technically, Daryl Messerly did die today, at around 5 o’clock in an accident on I-70. Does that count as ‘someone’ dying?” he said, inserting air quotes around the word ‘someone.’

“Ho-ly shit, dude. What?! Get inside before somebody sees you!” He grabbed Daryl’s arm and yanked him inside, slamming the door behind them. “Now, explain. I watched the report on the news but it didn’t even register that it could’ve been your car. Is Damian okay? Where is he? How did you even get here? And why the fuck are you naked under a damn lab coat?”

The rapid fire questions peppered the air as he walked through the entryway into the kitchen. He pulled up a stool at the bar that separated the kitchen and the dining area and nodded at Daryl to take the other stool.

“First, is there any chance I can borrow a pair of sweats? And socks? Like you said, I’m kinda freeballin’ over here” he said with a flip of the lab coat that showed Clayton his bare ass.

“Stop! Yeah, shit. Sorry. One sec.” he said apologetically before he quickly walked to his room down the hallway. Daryl heard drawers opening and closing and in less than a minute Clayton was coming out with an armful of clothes and shoved them at him, motioning towards the bedroom. “Go get dressed, then come tell me what the hell happened. I’ll make some coffee, since it doesn’t look like I’m getting back to sleep tonight.”

Daryl gathered the clothes to his chest and made his way to the bedroom. He stood in front of the dresser mirror as he pulled the lab coat off and finally took a good look at himself. As he examined his legs, he couldn’t figure out why they looked off for a second. Until he realized that they were still perfectly smooth and hairless, which made him snort a laugh as he pulled the sweats on, easing them over his groin, which, thankfully, was mostly healed when he woke up.

But, now he looked like a baby down there too, and he debated on wasting the energy to speed grow the hair just to avoid the itchiness of regrowth. He trashed that idea as a wave of exhaustion hit him.

Daryl finished getting dressed and went back out to the kitchen, where a cup of coffee sat waiting for him, already made the way he liked. 

He sat down and took a sip of his coffee, sweetened with cream and sugar.

“I don’t know how you drink it that way. You can’t even taste the damn coffee.” Clayton told him, as he lifted his cup of black coffee to his lips.

“Yeah, that’s generally the point. Still get the caffeine without drinking a cup of bitter asshole” he replied

“And you would know what asshole tastes like because…?” Clayton teased him.

Daryl flipped him the bird as he laughed. He sat back in his chair and rubbed his hands down his face.

“So, what the hell happened?” Clayton prompted him.

“They found us. Someone recognized me, or something, and now they’re coming after Damian.” He answered simply.

“Not you?” Clayton asked

“No, they know a car wreck wouldn’t keep me down for long. They were trying to kill Damian. Just for fucking existing. And now shit is even more complicated because I have to become a whole new person and figure out a way to get him back before they find him.”

“Yeah, speaking of that. What’s your name now? I know you mentioned before you had a few…Can’t you just say you’re your own twin? Or, Daryl’s twin? Whatever the fuck, same thing.” Clayton waved his hand animatedly. “My point is, can’t you just go and claim rights of kin or something and get legal custody of him?”

“It’s possible, maybe. But first I have to establish Derek here.”

“Derek, huh? What’s with you and the D’s?” Clayton asked as he snickered.

“Nope! Don’t go there! Plus, I’ve been around awhile. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with finding pleasure where you can, with who you can.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m just fuckin’ with you.” Clayton stood up to pour himself another coffee, gesturing to ask if Daryl wanted more.

Daryl, well, Derek now, nodded in answer as he leaned back in his chair.

Clayton came back with two coffees and set them on the counter before he plopped back down on the stool.

“So, who the hell was the girl that saved Damian?” Clayton asked with a raised eyebrow.

At the mention of her, Derek immediately pictured two bright green eyes. He blinked away the image and shook his head, “I have no idea, honestly. Just somebody who saw it happen and stopped to help.”

“Well, the news got video of her car, and her, if you wanted to try to find out. I’m sure they’re already doing the legwork on that bit of info, anyway. All I could tell was that she was definitely one of those rural mail carriers. Like the ones you get out by your house, who use their own vehicle?”

He nodded in understanding as Clayton continued, “Yeah, it was an old beat-up Jeep with a US Mail sign on the side. So maybe they’ll do a news story about her and you can go–”

“Go what? Thank her for saving my son? The guy that she saw get blown to hell, just showing up on her doorstep to ask her to dinner as a thank you?” Derek shook his head. The idea of never seeing the woman again bothered him more than he could explain, and he didn’t want to talk about her. “No, I’m grateful to her, don’t get me wrong. It’s just..” he paused, “right now, I need to focus on getting Damian and getting the hell out of town. He’s not safe here anymore.”

Clayton sighed and sat back. He mimicked Derek’s earlier movements and rubbed his hands down his face, as if he could wipe away the stress of having an other as a best friend.

“I’m sorry, man. I shouldn’t be bothering you with this shit. You got enough to deal with as it is–” Derek started

“Nope, don’t start that shit. You’ve been there for me this whole time, you tried to heal my Mom even at risk of revealing yourself. No. You don’t get to shelter me from the weird shit you have to deal with because, well, you’re fucking weird.”

Derek snorted at that, then let out a huge yawn that seemed to catch him by surprise.

“How about, you crash on the couch for a few hours. I’ll catch another hour or two of sleep. Then you can drive me to work in the morning and use my car to start clearing out your apartment and getting everything you need to reestablish yourself in our boring human world, alright?” Clayton asked as he stood and stretched, stifling a yawn himself

Derek nodded in acquiescence and said “Yeah, you’re right. I can’t do shit if my power is tapped. I know I was unconscious for almost eight hours, but a healing sleep is more draining than not sleeping at all.”

Clayton walked to his linen closet in the hallway and pulled out a blanket and a pillow. He tossed both to Derek and turned toward his bedroom. Before he shut the door he turned back to Derek, “We’ll get Damian, dude. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re a weird motherfucker that can survive a car explosion” Derek smiled as the bedroom door closed. He threw the pillow on the couch and laid down with the blanket. He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.Chapter 1

Avery

“Sugar, stop! No no no!” Avery heard from behind her. A smile curled her lips as she dropped the package she was attempting to deliver. Spinning in place, Avery bent her knees, arms outstretched as the familiar site of Sugar, the English Mastiff, barreled towards her. Slobber swung from her jowls as Sugar lunged, and her huge, lion sized paws landed squarely on Avery’s shoulders, knocking her back a few steps before Sugar bestowed her wet, slobbery kisses all over her favorite mail carrier’s face.

“Okay, okay! Hi, Sugar baby. I missed you too, girl!” Avery crooned, making sure to scratch the pup under her chin just the way she liked. After a minute, Sugar finally dropped back to all fours to look up at her with the biggest puppy dog eyes Avery had ever faced.

With faked reluctance, Avery reached into her pocket “Yeah, I know what you want, big girl. But I can’t just spoil you. You gotta earn it.” She held a treat in the air. Sugar, already familiar with this drill, obediently sat. Sherry, standing beside her now, snorted in amusement.

Avery laughed and ruffled the big dog’s ears “Uh uh, not that easy this time. No, stay. Now, paw. Can I have your paw?” She asked, holding out her hand, which Sugar was only too happy to put her right paw into. “Now, other paw. No, the other one.” Avery directed, dropping Sugar’s right paw. After two tries, the pup finally seemed to grasp what was being asked of her and enthusiastically lifted her left paw, placing it in Avery’s hand.

“Good girl! You’re such a good girl, Sugar” Avery praised, then tossed the treat in the air. She watched as the pup promptly ran off with her hard-won prize, tail wagging in contentment.

The neigh of a horse reached her ears, and Avery huffed a laugh knowing that Sugar probably went to terrorize the poor creature some more. The mid-July sun beat down overhead. Avery lifted her hair off her neck and inhaled the scent of hay and horse manure that brought to mind long-ago summers spent helping out at her Grandma’s farm.

“You know, Avery, she would stop jumping you if you stopped spoiling her with those damn treats. We only give her Milk-Bones, and she doesn’t beg for those nearly as much.” Sherry shook her head and bent to retrieve the dropped package. “Good thing this wasn’t anything fragile, huh? I should’ve known to keep Sugar in the house when I saw it was getting delivered today. Just a new pair of boots for our next line dancing date.” She tucked the box under her arm and swiped her straw-colored hair away from her sweaty face.

Sherry was Avery’s favorite customer. It hadn’t taken them long to surpass a working relationship and become real friends. Just the other night they had gone out for drinks after Avery finished working. Truthfully, she hadn’t expected to make a friend out of the loud-mouthed farm girl, but she wouldn’t change it for anything.

The women were like yin and yang. Polar opposites that when together, created an interesting and unique aesthetic. Where Sherry was short and petite, Avery was tall and voluptuous. Sherry’s light hair and sun-kissed tanned skin was the perfect contradiction to Avery’s dark, brown and purple hair and slightly lighter complexion. Add in their completely different styles of dress, and it was a wonder they’d even stopped to say hello, let alone built a friendship over the last four years.

“I know, but that’s why I bring ‘em. Blame Brad, not me. He got these dogs trained on what to expect when he came around. I couldn’t just change up their routine like that, ya know?” Avery chuckled and her thoughts drifted to the carrier that had trained her. His training style had been a bit unorthodox, but highly effective. She could get the route done faster than anyone else who had attempted it, and that was all thanks to him.

The wind picked up and brought the scent of honeysuckle and incoming rain as the women’s thoughts drifted to Brad and the acute feeling of his absence in the world. Avery watched the clouds drift across the sky, unable to squash the keen sense of regret she harbored when she thought of him. 

The last year of his life had been especially rough. The cancer had destroyed his body, making him just a mere shell of the man she knew. Towards the end he wouldn’t even allow her to come visit him. He had said he didn’t want her to remember him like that. No amount of arguing or assurances to the contrary mattered to him. In the end, she resigned herself to saying goodbye over the phone. She felt that respecting his wishes was the least she could do for a man she considered a friend.

She blinked fast to keep her tears at bay and turned to Sherry. She noticed the wetness that threatened her friend’s eyes as well, but she opted to keep her mouth shut. She just nodded and mumbled something about needing to finish up the route. She took a deep breath of fresh country air as she turned to climb into her old, black Jeep Grand Cherokee. The one Brad had left her in his will, which she only learned was named ‘Old Faithful’ the day the lawyers read her his letter.

She patted the dash and stuck the key in the ignition. After the customary wiggle to get it to turn, she cranked the engine. She checked her mirrors to make sure Sugar hadn’t worked her way behind the Jeep, then turned around and pulled out of the driveway, leaving Sherry to her grief. She knew her friend didn’t like to let anyone see her cry. She also knew that Sherry had known Brad since kindergarten, and that they even had some romantic history, which made her loss much more poignant than Avery’s.

Avery started back on her route, her mood more somber than it had been. She readjusted the placement of her 9mm pistol that was now digging into her hip. The gun she had bought after she almost got bitten by a rabid coyote. She made sure to never leave home without it. Better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it again. She thought, before she let her mind drift away to the sound of her tires on the dirt road.

Sooner than expected, Avery pulled up to the little two-room, shack-like office that was her base of operations at work. Damn, I really need to stop working on autopilot, she thought, as she turned in her seat to double check that she hadn’t missed any packages. Hopefully I didn’t misdeliver anything. A call from Keith is the last thing I need this weekend. She quickly stacked everything on top of each other, chewing at the inside of her bottom lip as she tried to mentally relive the last hour and a half, but found it difficult to remember anything specific.

Greeting Stephen, the clerk, she moved over to her mail case and put everything back where it belonged. She walked the scanner across the room to put it back in the charging cradle and asked Stephen if there were any calls or complaints today. He just shook his head in reply and went back to playing whatever mind-numbing game he was currently addicted to on his phone. It’s a small office, so there really wasn’t a whole lot for the kid to do during the day. Avery felt bad that he spent most of his day bored to tears, but she also envied him and the fact that he didn’t have much to worry about, unless she screwed up on the route.

Avery grabbed a rubber band and twisted it around the stack of outgoing letters she’d collected and placed them on the desk next to Stephen. She took one last glance around the office, then waved to Stephen and finally made her escape.

Before she climbed into her right-hand-drive Jeep, she reached in to unknot the seatbelt. If she was honest with herself, she hated driving without it. Having been in a couple of car accidents, she fully believed in the idea that seatbelts save lives. Unfortunately, they also added time onto her route that she didn’t want to waste continuously unbuckling and buckling every time she got out to deliver a package or grab a signature. So, she usually knotted it up just so the damn car would stop dinging at her for not wearing it.

Climbing into the driver’s seat, the scent of lilac hit her nose and she took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet aroma. After a second of debate, she hopped back out and quickly walked over to the neighbor’s lilac bush and picked one. Getting back into the car, she placed it in her visor with a smile, knowing she’d enjoy the scent of pure innocence and spring on her long drive home.

***

By the time she hit the I-70 on-ramp, Avery was already lost in her head again, contemplating the boring weekend ahead. Despite the usual loneliness of her existence, she still found herself optimistically looking forward to her weekends off.

Why’s it matter if you work or not? It’s not like you have any plans. Sherry has the agriculture convention and you’re just going to spend the next two days alone with your Kindle, like almost every other night.

She tried to block the negative thoughts by cranking up the radio. ‘Beautiful Way’ by You Me at Six blared through her speakers, and she couldn’t help but sing along despite her subpar singing voice. She never could make herself care if anyone heard her through her open windows. Singing along to good music always helped bury the darkness.

“So tell me, what do you mean?!

When you say that we’re not okay!

We’re fucked up in a beautiful way!

Fucked up in a beautiful way!”

She screamed along to the chorus, trying to take the message she interpreted in those words to heart. As she started headbanging, she noticed a black SUV coming up behind her at a good clip faster than she was driving.

She switched on her turn signal and moved over to the right lane, allowing the car to pass her. Damn, I’m doing 85, where the hell is the fire? She thought as she watched it zoom by. Never one to be stuck in the slow lane, she flicked her turn signal on again and moved back over behind the SUV which had already put a good bit of space between them.

It surprised her when the SUV, which she could now see was a Ford, suddenly swerved to the left onto the rumble strips. She briefly wondered if he had a flat, until the sound of the engine roaring as the driver gunned it reached her ears. Once the vehicle was a few cars ahead, she saw him cut to the right, clipping the bumper of another car which sent it spinning. The sound of squealing tires was somehow loud over her radio, which she quickly flicked off. She watched as the other car spun almost a full 180 degrees before the right-side tires caught the pavement and it flipped into the median. The screech of metal straining and crunching was something she’d remember for a long time. The car finally came to a rocking stop on its roof in the middle of the strip of grass, its front-end dipping into the slight ditch at the center.

Avery quickly jerked her wheel, steering into the emergency lane on the left side. She slammed on her brakes when she came adjacent to the wrecked car, which added her own tire marks to the new collection on this part of I-70.

She had no idea what she planned to do, but she felt like she had to do something. When she jumped out of the car, the smell of burnt rubber was almost overwhelming. The fact that the crash was obviously intentional hadn’t quite registered to her as she sprinted across the grass of the median to the overturned car. A car whose engine was still revving, making its tires spin even though it was currently sitting upside down. Avery saw a couple other people also pull over and get out of their cars, but most of the drivers just kept going. A big, burly guy in a cowboy hat caught her eye, not only because of his hat or his size, but because he was the only other person running towards the car.

Avery was much closer, though, so she tried to grab his attention with a shout “Hey! Big guy! Call 911! Get an ambulance out here!” 

She saw his hat dip in what she hoped was a nod of acknowledgment but didn’t break stride until she almost ran into the side of the wrecked car. It was a blue hatchback, but that was all she could tell. She could change a tire faster than anyone else she knew, but identifying cars was definitely not in her repertoire of skills.

Now that she was closer, she could see the true extent of the damage and smell the sweet chemical scent of gasoline that hinted at a leaking fuel tank. The front of the roof was crushed and glass shards from the windshield dug into the grass under her feet. She dropped to her knees next to the busted out driver’s side window. Her jeans protected her skin from the wayward shards but the wetness of the ground from that morning’s rain managed to seep through. She peered into the front seat where a man hung upside down, unmoving. Fuck, I can’t tell if he’s breathing. Please, please don’t be dead she silently begged as she reached an arm through the window to feel for the pulse point on his neck. Avery relaxed a little when she felt it thumping strongly against her fingers.

“Okay, let’s get you out of here.” She stretched her upper body into the car to unbuckle his seatbelt and hoped the guy wouldn’t land on his head. Right when her fingers found the latch, she looked up and her eyes fell on the back seat. From the angle outside the car, she hadn’t noticed anyone else. Now, she could clearly see a young boy hanging upside down behind the passenger seat. Blood dripped down his forehead and into his shaggy brown hair and her breath caught in her chest, he couldn’t be more than ten years old.

Shit, is he alive? Oh fuck fuck fuck. She glanced at the man, a mere two inches from her in her current position. She debated for a minute, but there really was no choice. She pulled herself back out of the car, leaving the man where he hung.

Avery got to her feet and ran around to the back door. She glanced around her and noticed about fifteen people standing back from the car, just watching. A few were on the phone, hopefully calling for help, which she doubted, and a few looked like they were recording. Great. Fucking great. Why are people so fucking useless? Avery asked herself, trying to pull the back door open. Even if it wasn’t locked, the bent and twisted roof kept it wedged shut. She put her face up against the window, hands cupped around her eyes to see into the back. I can’t break this window, I could hurt the kid she realized, then jogged back around. Both rear windows were still intact, so she tried to kick out the back driver’s side window and hoped the glass wouldn’t hit the kid. The worry was useless though as all she accomplished was hurting her foot in the effort.

Avery stood up and looked around, becoming frantic. She ran her hand through her hair as she tried to think of a way to break the window. As she let her arms fall, she felt her pistol against her hip. She pulled it from the holster and double checked the safety. Accidentally shooting herself or someone else was not in the plans today.

I can’t shoot the damn window, though she thought, before the idea struck her. Kneeling next to the car again, she gripped the barrel of the pistol tightly. She raised her arm and swung the butt of the gun against the window in a move reminiscent of the old gangster movies her Dad used to watch. A pistol whip, she remembered him calling it. Two strikes finally shattered the window, and she used the back of the pistol to knock away the big shards, until a loud pop above her made her jump. She looked up toward the back tires and saw one of them in ribbons as it continued spinning. The heat from the friction created by the tire rubbing against the bent frame had made the tire pop, and suddenly there was a ball of flame, which didn’t make sense because cars rarely actually catch on fire as a result of a wreck. That’s one thing the movies always exaggerated. So, explain why the tires just burst into flame then, Avery.

Regardless of the why or how, the sight of the fire froze her heart before it resumed pounding away in her chest as the scent of gasoline hit her again, and a vision of the car exploding tormented her. She quickly stretched into the back seat, ignoring the glass that sliced into her arms from what she hadn’t gotten around to clearing out. She managed to reach the boy’s neck and feel his pulse. Just like the man’s, it was strong and steady, but the boy remained unconscious.

Avery ripped off her t-shirt, glad she always wore a tank-top underneath to avoid being rubbed raw by the grip of her pistol. She placed the shirt over as much of the glass as she could cover, then hurried to crawl back in the car. Avery reached out to click the seat belt release and hoped she could catch the kid and avoid further injuring him. She tried to push the button over and over, but it wouldn’t budge and she realized the strain of the accident must have broken the locking mechanism. She tried to tug on it, but nothing happened.

Avery let out a frustrated growl before quickly scooting back out of the car. She stood up and looked around. Unable to see any immediate first responders, she yelled out “Hey! I need a knife! Anybody have a goddamn knife on them?! You useless fucking rubberneckers” the last part was a murmur to herself as she spun around in a circle.

A big hand reached out and grasped her elbow, stopping her frantic spinning. She looked up and met the big, cowboy hat guy’s eyes as he shoved a open switchblade into her hand. She patted his shoulder in thanks and quickly moved back into the car. 

She grabbed the seatbelt that still held the boy suspended in the air. The fifty seconds it took to saw through the belt felt like hours, and as the last couple of threads finally started to give way to the kid’s weight, she threw the knife out of the car and sent up a silent thanks to the universe for country boys and their obsession with sharp knives.

Avery grabbed the kid’s arm and tried to gently tug him to the side so he wouldn’t faceplant as the belt finally split. She managed to get her hands under his arms and she rushed to pull him backwards out of the vehicle. She felt the glass digging into her ass as she pushed herself back, thankful once again for her jeans and the shirt she laid out.

She managed to get her knees under her and pulled the kid fully out of the car right as the fire spread to the other tire. The sound of the second tire popping shocked her and she fell back, holding the kid to her chest. She sat there and just breathed as her heart pounded, until someone started pulling the child from her. She looked up and met big cowboy hat guy’s eyes again. “I got him, see if you can get the guy out. I’m too big to fit through the window.”

She nodded without saying anything, then crawled on her knees back to the driver’s side window. She searched the ground beside her where she thought she tossed the knife but came up empty handed. Where’d it go? I could’ve sworn I tossed it right here! She raged silently.

She took a calming breath and knelt by the driver’s side window. She glanced towards the back of the car, where the flames looked larger and more menacing. She peered in at the man, about to crawl back in when he finally started to wake up. His eyes fluttered weakly as he groaned “Damian…son? Are you okay?” Then louder, “Damian!”

“Your son is fine. Well, maybe not fine but he’s alive and I got him out already.” She spoke quickly, trying not to betray her nervousness. At her voice, he finally opened his eyes fully and she was struck speechless by the swirling blue and gray colors that surrounded the black of his pupils. Holy shit, his eyes move like mist. He blinked, shaking his head and then she was staring at two normal, blueish gray eyes. Of course they’re normal, you idiot. Swirling eyes don’t exist. 

She shook her head to clear it, “Can you reach the seatbelt?” she asked. “The car is on fire, we need to get you out.” It seemed to take him a second before he understood what she was saying. Then he tried to move his arm, which hung by his head along the roof. A shout of pain escaped him and he froze.

“I think my shoulder is broken. I can’t move it” He grunted, visibly gritting his teeth to hold back whatever sound he wanted to make. 

“Don’t worry, I got you. Just…sorry about this.” She leaned across him, her chest right in his face as she felt around his hip for the latch that she couldn’t see. She finally found it and pressed the button, without considering the effect of gravity on the man’s position.

He tumbled down on top of her, his elbow digging into her ribs before he managed to lift himself up off her by sheer stomach muscles. As he maneuvered onto one arm, she noticed he had pretty long hair for a guy, long enough to pull back into a ponytail and still trail across her face as he turned his head away from her. She hurried to crabwalk forward out of the car.

When she hit the grass again she quickly turned around, intending to reach a hand out and help pull him from the vehicle.

Instead, she heard a loud whoosh and suddenly there was a thick arm across her chest yanking her backwards. She tried to pull away, to get her feet under her to go back but whoever had grabbed her wasn’t having that. Anger flooded her as they toppled to the ground, and she tried to get a look at whoever had her as they rolled away from the car.

They stopped moving and she finally got to her feet. She went to turn towards whatever asshole had pulled her away, but was blasted backwards when the gas tank finally exploded. She flew a good five or six feet and landed awkwardly. She kept her eyes closed and groaned as she sat up. Breathing deeply, she didn’t want to open her eyes. Didn’t want to see what she knew would be there. Swallowing down her emotions, she finally gained the courage to look at the burning wreckage. Her ears rang and her ankle was twisted painfully underneath her, but she managed to stand up and look around, searching for the man.

She looked back at the car that was now just a mass of burning metal as everything finally made sense.

“No!” she screamed, unable to even hear herself yell as the ringing in her ears continued. She gasped great big gulps of air as she dropped to her knees, trying to look into the flames to see if there was any movement. “I had him out! He was coming out!”

She looked around her at the crowd that had backed up another good twenty or thirty feet. They all just stood around silently. When she finally noticed the guy in the cowboy hat beside her, she didn’t even know what to say. Her head felt stuffy and everything sounded like she had cotton balls in her ears. Finally, she said “You pulled me back”, and her voice sounded strange even to her.

“I saw the gas catch. I couldn’t let you—” His voice sounded like it came from twenty feet away, instead of the two feet that actually separated them

“Where’s the boy?” She, somewhat rudely, cut him off. “You took him from me when I pulled him out. Where is he?” She demanded, the ringing in her ears starting to lessen as she waited for his answer.

He pointed towards the ambulance that she hadn’t even noticed “Over there. He’s fine, I think, but…Hey! Why don’t you get your arms checked out? There’s nothing more you can do for –”

Avery just kept walking, ignoring his words. She wiped her bloodied arms against her shirt to try and lessen the vision she was sure she made. Hair wild around her face, wide eyed and trembling as the beginning stages of shock set in, with arms that still dripped red despite her best efforts to staunch the bleeding. She looked exactly how she felt. Hurt and lost.

As she approached the boy on the gurney, the people standing around moved out of her way of their own accord. Even the paramedics, who were working on putting a neck brace on the child, moved to the side as soon as it was secured.

She stared at the little figure strapped onto the gurney. His eyes were closed, and they didn’t open until she reached out to brush a stray hair off his forehead. “Hey, Damian, isn’t it?” she asked softly as she willed her hands to stop trembling.

“Y-yes ma’am. They…they told me you pulled me out. Wh-where’s my Daddy though? Did you save him, too?” The hope in the boy’s eyes broke her heart even more and she struggled to hold in a sob.

Nobody told him? Nobody had…she sighed “I’m so, so sorry, Damian. He was crawling out after me when it just…Another man pulled me back in time but your dad…Oh honey.” She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to be strong for this little boy whose entire life had just been altered. “Sweetie, he didn’t make it. I got blown by the blast and there’s…there’s no way he made it out.”

The tears, when they came, were silent. Not great big wracking sobs like one would expect from a child. But something softer. Wiser, even. As if…as if this wasn’t the first time he had felt this pain.

“Damian, where’s your mom?” Avery asked, “Do you know her phone number? I can ride with you to the hospital and we can call her to meet us there, if that’s okay?”

He just shook his head as the tears fell faster down his plump, little boy cheeks. “She’s…she’s dead too.”

Her heart, if it was possible, broke even further at those words, even if she had suspected as much. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it, holding tightly when she realized he wasn’t going to pull away, despite the blood now marring his otherwise perfect skin. “Don’t worry, kiddo. We’ll figure it out. For now, let’s just make sure you get patched up, okay? I’ll still ride with you, if these nice gentlemen allow me…?” She trailed off with a questioning look at the medic closest to her.

He looked up, eyes sad, and simply nodded. Then he noticed the blood that still dripped down her arms and cleared his throat “Umm…Maybe I can clean up your injuries on the way?”

She just nodded absently. Now that the adrenaline was draining from her body, she felt the stinging pain of the cuts and scratches that littered her skin.

The four of them moved almost as a unit. The two paramedics pushed the gurney over the grass, lifting together when they came upon an uneven section of ground. She wanted to ask them when the fire department would arrive, when they could pull the man’s body out, but didn’t dare in front of the boy. She figured it didn’t really matter, now. There was no way he’d survived. She just hoped that the blast was mercifully quick. Burning to death…I can’t think of any worse way to go. 

Chapter 2

Avery

The ride to the hospital was made in relative silence, minus the occasional siren from the ambulance as they rode through red lights. Avery allowed the medic to clean her arms, only hissing a little when he wiped them down with antiseptic. As soon as he had secured the bandages, she turned back to Damian and grabbed his hand. With that simple touch, she tried to tell him that he wasn’t alone. But, she didn’t say anything. Nobody did. She just sat there in silence, trying to breathe through her mouth to combat the nausea from loss of adrenaline and the overwhelming scent of the antiseptic.

The boy laid there with his eyes closed. She could see him wince when the road turned rough, as most roads in this shitty little city were, but otherwise he remained silent. Even his tears had stopped, and if his grip on her hand hadn’t been so strong, she would have believed him to be asleep.

When they arrived at the hospital, he opened his eyes and tried to smile at Avery as he was whisked away. His attempt at strength just hurt her heart more, and she gave a little wave and a thumbs up, hoping he got her message that everything would be okay.

            She turned to walk down the hallway when one of the paramedics behind her cleared his throat. She spun around and he met her eyes, then clearly looked down at the gun still tucked in her waistband holster, but clearly visible over the top of her pants. She cursed quietly, quickly untucking her tank top and pulling it down to hide the pistol. The butt would definitely chafe her skin, but it was better than freaking out a sweet old nurse or something.

Around here, concealed carry was normal, but open carry still made people uncomfortable, and she hadn’t even thought about the fact that her t-shirt was now just a pile of smoldering ash. 

Avery walked down the hall a little way. She stopped when she reached the nurse’s station, and leaned against the adjacent wall. She wasn’t sure what to do with herself but didn’t want to just leave the kid, either. She wanted to go find a vending machine to get a drink for her parched throat until she remembered she had left her wallet in her car. Which is still sitting on the side of the highway, you moron she thought to herself. With that thought, she wondered how she was going to get back to pick it up, since she hadn’t even grabbed her phone and couldn’t order an Uber, either. It’s not like they had taxis in this shithole.

She looked up from the floor she’d been mindlessly staring at and finally got her first look at a clock. It hadn’t even been an hour since she left the office, excited for a weekend of loneliness and boredom. Boredom sounds really nice right now. Be careful what you wish for, I guess? she mused, then grimaced at her horrible attempt at humor.

It’s barely even been an hour since that man died. Just, fucking died. And you’re trying to crack jokes in your head?

The mental reminder was sobering. She stifled a shudder as the memory of the car flipping taunted her. She remembered her fear when she noticed the little boy and how still he was. The heat of the explosion, being airborne.. Lastly, she pictured a pair of eyes that held swirling blue and grey mists that had entranced her. A figment of your stress-addled mind, obviously.

It wasn’t for another 45 minutes, as she still leaned against the wall refusing to give in to her exhaustion that she was finally approached by somebody.

She looked up at the sound of heavy footsteps and watched a police officer look her up and down as he moved closer. Her face turned red as she once again pictured the way she must look, before she pushed the idea of embarrassment away. After everything that had happened, how she looked didn’t matter.

She shook her head to clear the morbid thoughts away as she studied the man standing in front of her. He was tall, at least three or four inches taller than her five-foot-ten height. She guessed he was in his early to mid-forties by his build, which was still strong but definitely showed the slight softness of age around his midriff. She looked into his eyes and had to suppress a shiver. He had cop eyes. That blank stare police officers who have been around the block a time or twenty develop to hide their true emotions. Those blank eyes were shrouded by heavy eyebrows that didn’t quite seem to fit his face. But, they were the same color as the hair on his head, which he wore slightly longer than she would have expected from an officer. Looking at his badge, she saw ‘Sheriff’ above the name Hadley, and her nerves racketed up a notch.

“Miss? Can I speak to you for a moment?” Sheriff Hadley, she supposed, asked. He was obviously trying to go for the non-threatening, friendly approach as he kept his hands in his pockets and his head cocked in an ‘aw shucks’ sort of position.

“Yes, sir.” She stood up straighter and slid her hands into her front pockets “How can I help you?” She noticed him checking out the raven tattoo on her chest that was just poking up from under her tank top and readjusted her shirt to hopefully look more presentable as she met his eyes.

“My name is Sheriff Hadley, and I just wanted to ask you a few questions about what happened this afternoon” he said while pulling a notepad and a pen from his back pocket.

“Oh, okay. Yeah, that’s fine.” Avery tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and stupidly wished she had a hair brush. “What did you want to know?” She moved to take a seat along the wall, the seat she’d been avoiding because she hadn’t wanted to doze off and miss any news about the boy. She nodded her head toward the empty chairs next to her and hoped he would take the hint, so she wouldn’t have to crane her neck to look up at him.

She breathed a small sigh of relief when he sat down, leaving an empty chair between them. He propped his forearm on his knee, the pen poised in his left hand. “First, can we start with your name and birthday, please?”

“Avery Clarke, June 11^t, 1994. I’m assuming you’ll need my contact information, too?” She asked, running a hand down her mud and blood stained jeans. She scratched her knee absently, the wetness from the ground that had soaked through her pants was still obvious, and she nervously tried to peel the itchy cloth away from her skin.

“I can get all that when we finish up. First, can you tell me what happened on I-70 that resulted in such a horrific accident?” He flipped back a few pages on his notepad to consult whatever he’d written down before coming to find her “It’s my understanding that you’re the individual that pulled the boy from the wreckage, and not the big guy I spoke to just a little bit ago at the scene?” The look of slight disbelief he tried to hide knocked him down a few pegs on Avery’s respect-o-meter, and she hoped she wasn’t dealing with a misogynistic asshole.

“Oh, big cowboy hat guy? Yeah, he was the only other person who wasn’t standing around with a thumb up his ass. He pulled the boy from me after I got him out. Then he saved my life in turn when he pulled me away from the car right before it blew.” She pictured the big man now. It had been his knife she’d used, and she felt a little guilty that it probably went up in flames with the car.

She said as much, before she asked “Do you happen to have his name or phone number? He literally saved my life. I’d like to say thank you, and maybe buy him a new blade since I lost his.” She asked, and a keen feeling of regret settled in her chest when she remembered how she had spoken to him last.

“Sure, I can call him and ask if he minds me giving it to you. But first, back to the accident…?” He urged, clearly intent to get back on track.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Well, can I speak plainly, sir?” she questioned. When he nodded she continued, “Well, first off, that definitely wasn’t a fucking accident.” At that his bushy eyebrows raised in surprise, so she went on “There was a black SUV coming up behind me, fast as hell, ya know? So, I moved over to the right lane to let him pass. Then I switched back to the left lane because honestly, fuck the slow lane. I just wanted to get home.” She glanced over at him, but ignored the slight curl of his lip as he wrote in his notepad.

“So, I move back over behind this guy, who had to have been doing at least ninety-five, probably closer to a hundred, because he blew past me and I was doing eighty-five” She cringed as she said that last part. She could only hope she wouldn’t be going home with a speeding ticket since that stretch had a fifty-five speed limit.

The sheriff smirked but didn’t say anything, continuing to write as she spoke. Avery tried to see what he was writing but didn’t want to be too obvious in her nosiness. Deciding to stop worrying about her inevitable traffic citation, she continued to tell him what happened. How the SUV swerved in and out of the lane, and especially how intentional the movements seemed to be when he clipped their back bumper.

“Honestly, there’s no way anyone could misjudge distance that severely. Especially not somebody who was brave enough to even attempt to pass on the shoulder. I’ve been driving for a living for years, and I can almost guarantee whoever was in that car knew exactly what they were doing.” She concluded, leaning back in the chair. She ran her hand through her hair, pushing it out of her face as she tried to comb her fingers through it. She gave that idea up when her ring got caught and yanked a couple strands of hair from her head.

The sheriff nodded as he wrote, then stuck the end of his pen in his mouth and started chewing on it thoughtfully. “Do you remember what kind of car it was? Approximate year, make, model…anything, really?” he inquired after he took the pen out of his mouth.

“I just know it was a black Ford SUV, one of the bigger models and it looked shiny and new. Maybe an Expedition? I didn’t even think to catch the license plate when he was in front of me.” She sighed in annoyance with herself. The one time I don’t play acronym games with the license plate in front of me is of course the one time I fucking should have she thought as she shook her head at the irony of it.

“Shit. You don’t remember any part of it?” He asked. She shook her head, “Did you see what the driver looked like at all?”

“No, sir. I’m sorry. I wasn’t really paying attention, plus his windows were tinted pretty darkly” she sighed as she began rubbing her arms that were now starting to itch from the bandages. What I wouldn’t give for a shower right now. Except I don’t even know how I’m getting back to my car yet she thought.

“Um, I was trying to wait until I heard news about how Damian is doing. But, is there any way I can catch a ride out to I-70 later? I left my work car out there and—”

“Oh, don’t worry about that” he interrupted her. “Josh…cowboy hat guy, I think you called him?” he questioned, and she nodded, “He drove it in here not long after y’all arrived. I had one of my deputies take him out to pick up his own truck about twenty minutes ago. Your Jeep is right outside in the ER parking lot…” He trailed off as he flipped his notepad back a few pages “yeah, he said he left the keys in the center console” he said as he stood up, rubbing the back of his neck like it was aching.

“Oh, well fuck. I didn’t even see him here. And he’s kind of hard to miss with that hat” she chuckled as she stood as well. “Well, if there isn’t anything else…?” she hedged as she glanced back at the nurse’s station. The doctor that had directed where to take Damian was just coming down the hallway from that direction.

“Just your contact information, in case I need to get ahold of you with any more questions” Sheriff Hadley stated. He handed her his notepad and pen and she jotted down her information, thankful that her hands had finally stopped shaking and her handwriting was somewhat legible. Well, as legible as hers ever was, which would have to do.

She handed him back his notepad and the sheriff held out his other hand, which she grasped. He squeezed hers slightly “Not many people would have stepped up like you did. Which, well, is obvious since apparently, everybody else was just standing around with their thumbs up their asses, as you so eloquently put it” he smirked. She snorted at that, then quickly covered her mouth with her hand in embarrassment. Why’d they even get out of their damn cars if they weren’t going to help? She wondered, before she realized that questions like that never really had a good answer. ‘Human curiosity’ would probably be the most accurate, if unsatisfying response.

The Sheriff patted the back of her hand with his now empty left hand, which made her realize that she was still participating in the longest handshake she had ever experienced.

“I’m serious. You saved that little boy’s life. He is extremely lucky that such a quick-thinking individual was there and willing to help when needed. I don’t know what possessed you to jump out of your vehicle, but I’m certain that he will be grateful to you for the rest of his life” his eyes shined in what could only be described as shocked admiration, and Avery found her cheeks warming at his praise.

He finally dropped her now sweaty hand, which she surreptitiously wiped against her hip, unintentionally lifting the bottom of her shirt, which exposed the butt of her concealed weapon that poked above her waistband.

Sheriff Hadley raised an eyebrow when he spotted it, but oddly enough, didn’t ask to see her permit. Which, she was grateful for as her wallet was in her car, which was now parked on the other side of the hospital that she did not feel like trekking through right then.

She forced a small smile and nodded, unable to force words out of her mouth right then.

“Thank you, sir. I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful in pinning down the asshole that caused all this” she finally managed to force through her suddenly dry throat.

“Don’t you worry about that, miss. You’ve done more than enough today. Hell, even this year. You take care of yourself now, alright? I’ll be in touch if we need anything else.” He started to walk away.

“Oh, Sheriff!” She called out, a little more loudly than intended “What’s going to happen to the boy? He said both his parents were gone so…” she trailed off before clearing her throat again “I just want to make sure he has somewhere to go when they release him” She finished hesitantly. She wasn’t sure of her place in this matter, but at the same time, it wasn’t in Avery to not care or worry about the unexpected orphan.

“Oh, well when he’s allowed visitors, we’re going to go in and find out if he has any other family. If not, then we have an emergency foster family on call that will be able to come pick him up and house him until we find something more permanent,” he explained, running his hand down his face, which revealed that he was a lot more exhausted than she had originally judged.

Avery sighed in relief. Even though she couldn’t quite figure out what she would have done had his answer been different. She hadn’t expected them to force the kid onto the streets, but she couldn’t shake this protective streak she felt about Damian now.

“Thank you for letting me know” she smiled “I’m gonna go try and find out if they know anything yet. Nice talking to you, Sheriff. I really hope you catch the guy that did this,” She said. Avery turned back to the nurse’s station, where the doctor was still talking to what looked like the head nurse.

Avery listened to the sheriff’s footsteps fade away before she finally approached the desk. “Hello, I was wondering if there was any news on Damian? He was brought in about…well, almost two hours ago, now?” She checked the clock on the wall.

“Well, we usually can’t give any information to anyone that’s not the patient’s immediate family. But, we heard what you did for him, so…” the nurse went on to explain all of the kid’s injuries. Much more than what Avery originally thought, especially since he hadn’t uttered a peep about his pain the whole ride here. But, all in all he got off lucky.

Damian had a broken collar bone from the seatbelt doing what it was supposed to do, some whip lash and strain on his upper vertebrae, so he would be stuck in a neck brace for another few days as his muscles mended, and a minor concussion from cracking his head against the window. That explains the blood I saw. Head wounds always bleed like a bitch, even if they’re minor, she thought, as the nurse finished listing his injuries.

“He’ll be able to leave in about a day or two, but he’ll be stuck in a sling until that collarbone heals, and a neck brace until the inflammation goes down,,” the nurse explained. “We have him sedated now, since the doctor just reset the bone, but he should wake up in a few hours” she smiled, trying to convey some level of comfort in her tone.

Avery just nodded and asked if she could leave her phone number to be notified when he’s released. The nurse handed her a pen and post-it to write her information down, then handed her a parking token. “I heard the sheriff say your car was in the lot, you’ll need one of these to get out of here.”

She smiled her thanks, slipped the token into her pocket and started making her way out of the hospital. Her ankle throbbed from how she had landed on it after the blast, but she ignored the slight pain as she made her way down the hallway.

It was a good ten-minute walk through the maze of hallways. Luckily Avery knew this hospital like the back of her hand, thanks to weeks spent exploring it with her older brother when her mom was laid up after a heart attack years ago. This was before the age of smartphones, so at the time there wasn’t much to do to amuse themselves. Thankfully, the hospital hadn’t changed the general layout, even if it had gone through a few remodels by then. Nope, still too cheap to put any more than the bare minimum amount of money to keep the doors open. She thought as she walked, staring at the chipped paint and scuffs around the wall bumpers.

Avery stepped out of the emergency room doors. She took a big breath of the fresh evening air and sighed as her whole body seemed to relax. Hospitals were never her favorite place, which is why she hadn’t asked to have her ankle looked at. The less amount of time she had to spend there, the better.

It was the middle of summer and the sun was just starting to drop over the horizon at 8 o’clock. She couldn’t help but smile as her body soaked in the last bit of sunlight before night fell. She loved this time of year, just knowing that it was after eight and the sun was still shining put a smile on her face. She looked around for Old Faithful, quickly spotting the black matte rust bucket at the back of the lot across the street. The poor Jeep always stuck out like a sore thumb when she brought it into town.

She crossed the road as fast as her ankle would allow and walked through the lot. Josh, apparently, was thoughtful enough to park it at the back corner so it wouldn’t take up spaces needed for people who were actually hurt.

She reached the driver’s side door and pulled it open. On the seat sat a folded peach colored ‘missed delivery’ note. She grabbed it and opened it up, finding Josh’s name and phone number scrawled messily in the little bit of blank space available.

Huh, guess I don’t have to bug the Sheriff again when he calls. She mused to herself as she tucked the note in her pocket. She felt the parking token and pulled it out as she climbed in, tossing it into the empty cup holder. After she closed the door, she just sat there for a minute, head tilted back and eyes closed, Avery forced her body to relax by taking slow, deep breaths. She reached for the ignition before she remembered that her keys were…yep, right in the center console where she was told. She smiled to herself as she inserted the key, gave it its customary wiggle, then cranked the engine.

She turned up the radio before pulling out of the lot. She had to stretch across the passenger seat to put the token in the machine, then she was home free. As she snapped her seatbelt into place, the feel of the belt in her hand brought up the memory of the little boy hanging upside down. She rubbed her hand over her face to clear the vision away. I hope he has family that can take him in. Kid that young shouldn’t be without somebody who loves him, she thought.

Right as she turned the corner, her stomach growled loudly and she remembered she hadn’t yet eaten that day. The urge to facepalm was hard to suppress when she remembered the Tupperware full of the lunch she’d prepared today, which was still sitting in her fridge at home. Along with all the other leftovers she still had to toss. She always made herself a lunch and always forgot to grab it, so they just sat in her fridge until she finally went through and cleaned it out.

She sighed at her own absent mindedness and pulled into the local Wendy’s, having decided to forgo the healthy eating she had been trying to stick to for the last few weeks. Fries dipped in a chocolate frosty sounded like the perfect kind of comfort food for the day she’d had. Her stomach rumbled again as she pulled up to the speaker, thankful there wasn’t much of a line.

She placed her order, then pulled up to wait, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel along to the low music pumping through her car. When she got up to the window, she ignored the raised eyebrow of the worker when he caught sight of her bandaged forearms, and it only took a few more minutes to actually get her food in hand. She put her lemonade in one cup holder and popped the lid off her Junior Frosty to put it in the other, then quickly grabbed a handful of fries and dunked them in the frosty before she shoved them into her mouth like the starving heathen she was.

Avery finished her fries while she drove, pulling up in front of her house in what felt like no time at all. She climbed out of the Jeep, grabbed her food, drink, and purse and limped up the short walkway to the front door of her old, two-story farmhouse. I really need to get around to fixing those shingles. She thought as she looked up at the roof. Along with the shingles, the gutter was also bent and twisted from when a tree branch fell on it during a bad thunderstorm a few months ago. It looked a bit more rundown than it actually was, but some TLC was overdue. The white vinyl siding had turned yellow with age and lack of being washed by anything except Mother Nature’s rain, and the grass needed to be cut again. A never ending headache during the spring and summer, but it still beat the ice and cold of winter.

She opened the outer glass door, making sure she caught it before it banged against the wall, since the hydraulic arm had been broken for about a year now and every time she remembered to do it, she, well, just didn’t feel like doing it right then. So it stayed broken, and she’d learned to anticipate the free-swinging door.

She took a deep breath of the fresh country air, tinted with a hint of honeysuckle and mint that she grew behind her house. Tea with mint sounds really good right now she thought, then scrapped the idea when her ankle throbbed. She didn’t really want to try traversing the yard in the dark on a sprained ankle.

As she went to step into the door, movement out of the corner of her eye made her pause to stare at the tall grass about thirty feet from the side of her house. She squinted to try to see better, but nothing new popped out at her. She shook off the sudden feeling of being watched and stepped inside, closing the door behind her. Probably just a deer, you pussy. Even still, after a second of debate, she threw the deadbolt on. Something she hadn’t done in three years because honestly, who the hell would bother her all the way out here? Anyone looking to rob the place would have about fifty houses that were clearly better targets that they’d have to drive past to get there.

The smell of the new wax melt she put on this morning was the first thing she noticed as she kicked off her shoes by the door then walked past her living room that doubled as her office area. The kiwi-melon scent made her still hungry stomach growl even louder. The fries were good, but she had only gotten a small one so she wouldn’t completely hate herself for her poor food choice, which meant she was still rather famished.

Pulling her phone from her purse she laid it on the counter before hanging her purse on its designated hook by the kitchen doorway. Then she opened the drawer right underneath, unclipped her pistol, which thankfully was no worse for wear after the earlier abuse, and placed it in the drawer, still in its holster, and slid it shut.

She reached in the Wendy’s bag to grab the source of the delicious aroma that was still teasing her senses. The groan she let out at that first bite was audible, and she thanked her lucky stars that she’d managed to avoid needing a roommate so far. 

She walked back through her living room, over to the fish tank that sat along the wall next to the big picture window. As she fed herself, she grabbed the can of fish food off the mantle of the boarded up fireplace and sprinkled some food in the tank. The three goldfish were the only pets she allowed herself to have. Since she worked so much and lived alone, she didn’t think it was fair to get a dog or a cat, or any animal that thrived on human interaction and attention.

She watched the fish eat as she finished off her burger. Then crumpled up the wrapper and went back into the kitchen to throw it and the now empty paper bag away. Her lemonade went into the fridge for tomorrow, though. 

Sighing, she looked around. Well, one perk of living alone? No one to make a mess that I have to clean up, she thought as she looked at the empty sink and clean table that rarely got used now.

She finally made her way back through the living room and up the stairs to her bedroom. Passing the closed doors on either side, it was a struggle not to think about why they were empty, when they should have been filled by now. Cleaning up messes would be worth it if things could have been different.

Shaking off those thoughts, Avery started stripping as soon as she hit her bedroom doorway. She threw her dirty, and probably permanently stained clothes in the hamper in the corner of the room, then made a beeline to the en-suite bathroom. Flicking on the light, she purposely avoided looking in the mirror as she opened up the medicine cabinet to pull out new gauze and medical tape.

She moved to turn on the shower and debated on making use of the jacuzzi tub, but she’d be the idiot that fell asleep and drowned herself in her own tub that people read about on the internet. As she waited for the water to heat up, she unwrapped the bandages around her arms, gritting her teeth as they came unstuck from the multitude of cuts on the insides of her forearms. Damn, I’m lucky I didn’t need any stitches, she tells herself as she finally got a good look at the damage that hadn’t really bothered her until now. There were a few cuts that looked like they might scar, but she honestly didn’t care. She would have taken a hundred more scars if it would have made her fast enough to save that boy’s father.

Testing the water, she turned down the cold just enough to make it slightly too hot, then stepped into the tub. As the scalding hot water hit her neck and shoulders, she hung her head and let the stress of the day drain out of her as the water sluiced down her body. Now, she felt like she could let it out. Let the tears fall to join with the water flowing down the drain. But, she found herself unable to cry. She knew she wanted to, she knew it would probably help. But, nothing would come out.

That made her angry for some reason. She quickly grabbed her shampoo and started her shower ritual. The familiar routine of her actions calmed her down, and by the time she turned the water off, she wasn’t angry anymore. She was just tired. That bone deep exhaustion that people only felt after a really taxing day..

She wrapped her hair, then stepped out to dry off, being careful of her injuries. With the towel secured tightly around her she stepped up to the sink to grab her toothbrush. Finally she let her eyes fall on the mirror, and it almost looked like a stranger was staring back at her. Her usually bright green eyes were dull, with blue circles underneath. Her mouth was drawn, as if she couldn’t remember how to smile, and there was a bruise forming on her cheek but she couldn’t recall how she got it. She shook her head at herself and squeezed some toothpaste onto her brush. After she’d rinsed with some mouthwash, she grabbed the medical supplies off the counter and walked back into her bedroom.

She sat on her bed and debated about how she would rebandage her arms, which had started bleeding again, slowly dripping down her skin. Using one piece of gauze, she wiped up the blood before placing a couple clean pieces over the worst of the wounds. She used her teeth to rip off long pieces of the tape to hold them in place. Satisfied with her work, she moved to her dresser, searching through her drawers for her favorite pajamas. Harry Potter pajama pants and a slightly holey Bring Me the Horizon tour shirt were her comfort clothes, as she liked to call them. The tour shirt was from the last concert she went to with Rylan before he died, and it was one of the few things that made her smile when she thought of her deceased husband. But, she still didn’t want to sleep in what was their bed tonight. Most nights it was okay, but she knew the sight of the big empty bed would be too much for her fragile state of mind tonight.

Avery made her way back downstairs. After a quick detour into the kitchen to grab her phone off the counter, she moved back into the living room. There she set a pillow against the armrest, grabbed the blanket that was folded at the end of the couch, found the remote, and finally sat down on the big, oversized monstrosity of a couch that she had found at a local yard sale.

Avery pulled the towel off her head and groaned, realizing she’d forgotten her brush upstairs. Fuck it, I’ll deal with the tangles tomorrow she thought, trying to comb her fingers through the tangled wet strands. Grabbing the remote from the floor where it had fallen, she flicked on the big smart TV that she rarely watched. I should probably donate it and get something smaller, she thought, not for the first time. But it was Rylan’s TV and she couldn’t quite part with it.

As she waited for it to start up, she grabbed her phone and finally switched it off silent. Scrolling through the notifications she’d gotten over the last 5 hours, she cleared most of them until she came to a text message from Sherry:

7:15pm: Girl, what the actual fuck?!

7:16pm: Why am I seeing you on the news pulling a kid from a burning car?!

7:25pm : CALL ME!!!!

Avery cringed, feeling guilty for not turning her sound back on. She quickly texted back:

11:23pm: I’m sooo sorry. I had my phone on silent still and well…fuck. I’ll call and tell you everything tomorrow. Promise. I’m fucking beat. I’m fine though, don’t worry. <3 <3

She reached behind her for her charger wire she always left on the end table, plugged her phone in and set it beside her. She was fairly certain she’d be getting a few calls in the morning, if the news station already had video of the aftermath of the accident.

She sighed and rolled on her side, clicked the Netflix icon and quickly decided on something humorous to hopefully lessen whatever nightmares she was fairly certain she’d have tonight.

She only made it through one episode before sleep claimed her.

Chapter 3

Derek

The wheel jerking from my hands. Spinning. A sharp crack and blazing pain.

The world flipping upside down, the smell of gasoline and burnt rubber.

Gorgeous green eyes, bright with fear, locked on mine.

Damian…the girl with the green eyes said he was fine.

Falling on top of her. Crawling after her on one arm.

Fire, more pain, then… darkness.

The images flashed through his mind as he slept. Daryl’s confusion grew as he slowly awoke to realize that he wasn’t on fire anymore, despite the way his skin feeling like it was. He wasn’t even in the car anymore, if the way he was lying flat on his back was any indication. He blinked his eyes to clear them, but all he could see was darkness surrounding him.  Not a single bit of light poked through. He sighed.

Well, this is fantastic. He extended his fingers a bit to test his theory, cursing inwardly when he felt exactly what he expected. Vinyl. Goddamn humans and their body bags. He stretched his fingers out again to poke at the blackness surrounding him. Then again, a bag is better than a furnace he thought as he pushed his arms out slowly, allowing the coolness of the smooth vinyl to soothe his burning skin. Being careful not to make any easily visible movements, he took a deep breath. Or, tried to. The stale, stuffy air and the scent of his own burnt flesh almost made him gag and realize that he really needed to find a way to get fresh oxygen in here. His body wouldn’t necessarily die without it, but not being able to breathe when he was awake made him really uncomfortable. He didn’t need oxygen to survive like humans did. His inner life force provided all the energy he needed. However, he did need air to talk and express himself. And despite the fact that he wouldn’t be talking to anyone while laying in the bag, being denied that ability was a lot different than simply choosing not to do it.

Taking shallow breaths through his mouth instead, he finally convinced his stomach to halt its rebellion. As he listened for any movement, he came to a few conclusions. The lack of movement and jostling told him that he had likely already been transported to the morgue. The absence of sound around him, even the soft breathing of a sleeping attendant, let him know that for the moment, nobody else was in the room with him. Lastly, his body was still damaged. Primarily the skin on his legs and torso was almost completely gone. He felt exposed and raw to the point that just the air movements he was creating with his shallow breathing were excruciating against whatever parts of his body were currently exposed. He couldn’t even move his legs at all yet, which meant there was extensive muscle damage. Truthfully, he was glad that he couldn’t see anything yet. Nobody should see their own insides on the outside he thought. Luckily his arms had somehow only been minorly burnt, which explained why the cool plastic felt good. And his broken shoulder didn’t hurt like it had in the car, which meant it had either been reset by whoever had moved him or had simply healed itself. Lastly, he rubbed his head side to side, and when he didn’t hear the scratch of hair on the bag, he tried not to cringe at the image of patchy baldness that came to mind.

With that knowledge, he decided to take the time now, while he wouldn’t be disturbed, to focus his natural healing ability to where he could feel he needed it most. But first, air. He, ironically, used heat to accomplish his mission. Pulling his hand up by his face awkwardly, he extended his index finger until he touched the part of the bag that was beside his ear, as close to the table as he could reach so it would hopefully be out of sight. Then, he got angry. Very angry. He thought about the SUV swiping his car off the road. He thought about the people whom he knew to be responsible. He thought about his lost love, and the fact that he had no idea where his son was right now. He thought about the fact that his song almost died today. All that anger built up and electricity started flickering across his skin. He held onto that rage and focused the power into his finger, holding his breath to help him focus. He quickly shot off a small stream of electricity, until he finally saw a pinpoint of light through the bag,  He poked at it with his finger to make it a little bigger, then turned his head to quickly inhale the small stream of fresh air, exhaling heavily as he counted, calming himself until the feeling of static in the air finally dissipated.  

After a few deep breaths, he started his healing process. He focused on his lower body first, the part of him that would take him home. The fact that he couldn’t feel or move them meant they were royally fucked up. But the numbness he felt in his lower body was better than the incessant burning he felt over his chest and stomach as his burnt nerve endings tried to repair themselves. He could deal with the pain though, push it to the back of his mind as he focused. Years of training had made sure of that.

As he pushed his focus, he started on his feet, realigning bones and knitting muscle back together. As he heard the snapping of his bones resetting themselves into proper alignment, he pictured his feet absorbing the burnt flesh that encased them and replacing it with fresh, pink flesh and muscle. As he rebuilt the skin around the raw muscle, the wet slurping sound of old skin being absorbed reached his ears and he struggled not to picture how bad his skin really must be. Soon enough, picturing the damage was the last thing on his mind as his nerve endings came back to life and it took every ounce of willpower he had to remain silent as pain shot through parts of his body that were previously burnt to the point of numbness. He could feel the muscle knitting back together, sticking to the plastic of the bag he was currently stuck in and he couldn’t help but pull his leg away from the vinyl, the movement creating a sound similar to what it sounds like when someone quickly rips a band-aid off. He gritted his teeth as he finally started on his outer skin, burnt and frayed nerve endings once again coming to brutal life as he slowly covered his exposed muscle with new, soft skin. Twenty minutes later, as he healed the last patch of skin on his knee, he let out a huge breath of relief. He quickly stilled, panicked that somebody was there.

After a minute or two of continued silence, he relaxed and continued focusing his healing to the rest of his body. His torso was the second worst, after his legs. With his internal scan he could tell that his innards were all where they were supposed to be, but his skin was like charred leather, cracking and peeling every time he breathed deeply. Finally, he was satisfied. Although his newly healed skin was pretty tender, kind of like the extra sensitive skin that forms under a scab, he would at least be able to get himself out of there. He hoped, anyway.

After he had finished healing the majority of his skin, he decided to also regrow his eyebrows, eyelashes, and some of the hair on his head, though he definitely wasn’t going to waste the energy bringing it back to its former shoulder length glory. A lot of people could pull off the bald look, he definitely was not one of those people, though. Plus, remember that picture of Anne Hathaway without eyebrows that went viral years ago?  he thought, nobody looks good without eyebrows. Not even Anne Hathaway.

Not hearing any noises, he took a chance and breathed in deeply, forgetting to breathe through his mouth again, he was once again assaulted by the lingering stench of his own burnt flesh. This time he gagged and very nearly upchucked whatever was left in his stomach, because honestly, it smelled a lot like the steak he had earlier that day for lunch, which just did weird things to his mind. Thankfully, he managed to hold it all in. Swimming in vomit in a leakproof plastic bag really did not sound like a good time.

As he focused a little extra healing towards his arms, as they still felt raw, he finally heard the sound of a door opening.

He slowed his breathing and held still as who he assumed was the security guard walked past the table he was laying on. As the man passed, he patted the bag, muttering something about being ‘extra crispy,’ which had Daryl stifling his own morbid chuckle.

Some rap song that sounded vaguely familiar started playing loudly from a cellphone nearby and Daryl almost jumped. The tune was promptly moved away and cut off, the moment of silence was quickly broken by “Yoo! What’s up babe? …Oh! Shit, hold on…yeah, I do have your card. Want to swing by and grab it?” his voice turned flirtatious “Jeff left for the day so it’s just me, we can—” he paused, and Daryl couldn’t quite squash the desire he had to hear the other side of the conversation.

“Yeah yeah, fine. Alright, just text me when you get here and I’ll run it out to you. Love you too. Bye.” The last of that sounded dejected, and Daryl felt a little sympathy for the poor guy who had apparently been denied his request for a quick hook-up at work.

The sound of a chair rolling startled him, followed by a soft wumph that must have been the guy dropping into said chair. Daryl settled in to wait and silently hoped the girlfriend didn’t live that far away. He needed to get out of there and find out where Damian had been taken.  He worried this would be his only chance to sneak out.

            As he waited, he thought about his son who was only 9 years old and now a supposed orphan. He thinks I’m dead, Jesus Christ, I’m not ready to explain all this shit yet he thought, then wondered how Damian was handling everything. He was such a strong kid. Smart, too. And so incredibly caring. Daryl figured he got that from his mother, just like his looks. He looked so much like his mother that sometimes Daryl couldn’t even stand to look at him. Then there’d be days where he couldn’t stand to look away because he missed her so much, and Damian reminded him of her.

At least I know he’s okay and he got out of the car he thought, followed unbidden by the memory of bright green eyes looking into his. Whoever the girl was, if I could kiss her feet in thanks for getting him out first, well…she’d probably kick me in the face to stop. He wished he knew her name, or anything about her. But all he knew for sure was that she was kind, strong, and selfless. And she had saved his son’s life, which was not something he would ever forget.

And she didn’t flinch at your eyes, you idiot he told himself, which means she’s either incredibly unobservant, or she’s one of us, or knows about us. At that thought his breath started coming faster and he had to physically force himself to count to five while he held his breath to calm his racing heart. He tried to brush away that worry with the knowledge that human’s tendency to see only what they wanted to see was what had enabled his kind to hide among them, separate but within, for millennia.

The few who did know, generally only gained that knowledge because they were useful in some shape or form, or expendable. Or both. It was forbidden to reveal their true nature to outsiders. But, Daryl never liked following the rules. Which was exactly why he was in the predicament he was in then. 

His kind were exceptionally hard to kill. Which is how he knew they weren’t trying to kill him today.  They were trying to kill Damian. Which meant that someone knew what he was and had told his people where to find him. Only his best friend knew, and he trusted that man with his life. More importantly, he trusted him with Damian’s life. He’d had years to betray Daryl if that was ever his intention, so he saw no reason to doubt that trust now.

As he laid there and contemplated who it could be, he grew angry. No, angry was too tame of a word. He grew furious. Pissed straight the fuck off that someone would even think that killing a child just for existing was an acceptable course of action. 

He didn’t realize his anger was manifesting into power until the scent of burnt plastic reached his nose, creating a horrid mixture with the previously strong scent of burnt…well, him. He breathed in through his mouth and out through his nose until he could feel the electricity flowing over his skin absorb back into his body as his heartbeat slowed and his rage eased. As he calmed himself, there was a loud ‘ding’ of an incoming text message, which immediately halted cooled his anger. Daryl heard the guard stand up and push the chair again.

Quick footsteps echoed through the room. The sound as the door swished open and shut let him know that he was finally alone. Daryl waited an extra thirty seconds before his impatience got the best of him. He wiggled the tip of his finger into the slight gap at the top of the zipper and slowly peeled it down.

He inhaled the cool air deeply, like a drowning man finally breaking the surface of a lake. The break from the hot, stuffy, burnt flesh scented air he was breathing in the bag was a welcome relief. He sat up slowly, blinking to help his eyes adjust to the onslaught of light as he took stock of his body. 

Skin is whole, if tender, hair on my head and face is there. He thought. Then he rotated the shoulder that had been broken, A little stiff but I can deal with it. 

Since he was now certain that he was in the morgue, he knew that the attendant had to go up one floor to get outside. That gave him maybe five minutes to get the hell out without being caught. 

He moved quickly as he pulled his legs out of the bag first. He went to throw his legs over the side of the table to stand up and immediately swayed on his feet. Apparently you used more power in your healing than you thought, dumbass. He shook his head to clear away the dizziness.

He looked around the room and spotted a cabinet labeled ‘Linens.’ Moving quickly, he walked over to it, trying to failing to ignore the shock of cold against his still tender feet. As a shiver moved through his body he pulled out as many sheets as he could see. He took those back to the body bad he recently occupied and started stuffing the sheets in it. He fluffed them up as much as he could and hoped it was enough to resemble a grown man’s body. He zipped it closed and stepped back to admire his handiwork.

As he nodded in approval, he again took stock of his surroundings, hoping to spot a gym bag or a pile of clothes. Unfortunately, all he could see was a long lab coat hanging on a hook by the door. When he walked over to it, he was happy to see a pair of sneakers placed underneath it. He grabbed those as he pulled the coat onto one arm. He quickly checked the size on the tongue of the shoes and groaned in annoyance before placing them back where they were. No way I’m gonna try to fit my size thirteen feet into a size ten shoe. Fucking ow.

He took one last glance around the room to make sure he hadn’t left any obvious signs that a formerly dead body just got up and walked out. Satisfied with the state of the room, he grabbed the door handle and eased it open.

He poked his head out, looked back in forth down the hallway. When he didn’t see or hear anyone, he stepped out and closed the door behind him before he dashed down the hallway towards the stairwell.

Right as he opened the door to the stairs, the elevator behind him groaned before it chimed its arrival with the security guard. He breezed into the stairwell as he heard the swish of the elevator doors opening, lab coat billowing behind him and nearly getting caught in the door. Damn good thing I opted for the stairs.

He jogged up the steps, the new muscles in his legs protesting as the cold cement shocked the overly sensitive skin on the bottom of his feet, chilling him to the bone. When he hit the first landing between levels, he shivered and decided to stop for a moment to focus a little extra energy into toughening up the skin on his soles. Now the freezing cement was just mildly uncomfortable, rather than the cause of full-body shivers.

He finished his jaunt up the stairs and approached the door to the main level. He peeked out of the window at the top of the door, trying to see as far as he could down either side of the hallway. 

When he didn’t see anyone or any moving shadows, he opened the door and walked out. He tried to walk silently as he inched his way past framed reprints of generic ‘uplifting’ art that was common in most low-budget hospitals. All rainbows and butterflies, with a few ‘Wash Your Hands’ and ‘Cover your cough’ posters thrown in. Their attempt to break up the stark sterility of the place reminded him of the compound where he grew up. In both places the effort was laughable at best and sad at worst. But, at least they tried.

As he slowly moved down the hallway, he looked around for any directional signage, even hoping for a bright red ‘EXIT’ sign. Of course, I’m not that lucky, though. That would just make life easier, wouldn’t it?

When he reached the end of the hallway he paused to listen. When he was about to poke his head out to check if anyone was within earshot, he heard muffled voices mixed with the sound of footsteps growing closer.

He looked behind him and groaned when he saw the nearest supply closet, a good twenty feet away. He could shift there, but he knew he didn’t have a whole lot of juice left.

He made a split-second decision, since obscuring took less power. He concentrated and willed his hands to blur until they were nearly invisible. The rest of his body followed, including the lab coat he was wearing. Obscuring was hard, but since he was only changing the way his body appeared to humans, it used a lot less energy than shifting, which involved breaking his essence down to the molecular level and willing it to another location that he had to maintain focus on.

Confident in his relative invisibility, he waited as the two talking passed by him, content to ignore them and just focus on staying upright and invisible. All I need is to be mistaken for a crazy naked guy and taken to 3A. He thought, before something the passing nurse said caught his attention. “Kid is an orphan at 9 years old, and they say he hasn’t even shed a tear since they brought him in” the tall one said. “Hope the foster family coming to get him knows—” the shorter nurse faded off as they rounded the corner to the next wing.

Damian realized that his son was in the very same hospital he was now trying to escape from. The knowledge gave him hope, before reality set back in. I’m not strong enough to shift with him right now, and he doesn’t know what I am…what he might be. I’ll have to come back for him when I’m stronger. He decided. He had never looked forward to trying to explain his people and why they didn’t live with them. He had always thought he had more time to prepare. But it looked like that time had just expired if he wanted to get his son back.

He shook the gloomy thought away and refocused on finding a way out of this damned hospital. As he walked down the hallway, he finally came upon a directional sign and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the way to the entrance pointed in the direction he was traveling.

He moved slowly now, careful not to create a draft of air with his movements as he snuck down the hallway. Obscuring wasn’t perfect invisibility, but as long as nobody looked real hard, it was damn near close. Like looking at a parking lot on a really hot day. That distortion in the air from the hot cement? That’s what somebody who is obscured looks like. It wasn’t too common, but it wasn’t a super rare ability in his people, either.

Finally he reached the main lobby, and the doors outside. He looked around as he approached the doors, glad that there was nobody around. He stepped up to doors and as they whooshed open, he hoped that whoever was manning the security feeds just chocked it up to a weird technological malfunction.

He had to stop himself from running out of the hospital, his desire for freedom was so strong. As his bare feet hit the concrete outside, his whole body relaxed. He walked down the block and took a look around. When he spotted a street sign he smiled in relief. His best friend, Clayton, lived near the hospital. Luckily he only lived a block away from the side of the hospital Daryl had come out of. He looked up at the sky as he started walking, trying to gauge the time of night by the moon’s position in the sky, and instead almost walked into a telephone pole.

He stopped walking and shook his head at himself before continuing his short trek. Guess it doesn’t really matter what time it is. He can yell at me later for waking him up, he thought as he finally came to Clayton’s street. 

He walked straight to the old brick townhouse that his friend owned. Clayton had inherited it when his father died, which was the only reason he still lived here. He hated living in town but wanted to hold onto whatever memories he could. Right then, Daryl was thankful for his friend’s sentimentality, or he would’ve had a hell of a hike across town to his own house. 

He looked up at the windows as he approached, hoping to see a light on or any indication that Clayton was still awake, but saw only darkness and the reflection of the streetlights in the windows. Clayton’s going to kick my ass for this he thought as he pressed the doorbell. It took three more rings until he finally heard muffled cursing and movement from inside, then the door was yanked open.

“What the…huh?” His friend said as he blinked in his direction. When Daryl saw him look back and forth, he finally remembered.

“Oh! Shit! Sorry dude” he said as he finally dropped his obscuration, becoming visible once more.

Clayton jumped back in surprise “Jesus christ on a cracker, Daryl! What the fuck?!” he panted, with his hand over his chest “Somebody better be fucking dead or dying if you’re waking me up at 2:30 in the goddamn morning, or you will be dying in the next three minutes.” He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, somehow never dropping the glare currently aimed at his best bud.

Daryl looked at his friend, and actually felt guilty for waking him. At 6’3 and 250 pounds, Clayton wasn’t a small guy. But tonight he looked smaller, as if the weight of the world was weighing him down, crushing more than just his spirit, but his physical body, too. His shaggy, dark blonde hair looked unkempt and dirty, like he hadn’t showered in a few days. There was a two-day growth on his wide, angular face, and his eyes looked sunken into his usually robust face. Daryl knew he’d been tending to his mother lately but hadn’t realized the toll that it must have been taking on him. Guilt for heaping more on his plate ate at him, but at the same time, Daryl didn’t have anyone else to go to.

When Clayton’s eyes finally met his, Daryl tried to crack a smile as he said “Well, technically, Daryl Messerly did die today, at around 5 o’clock in an accident on I-70. Does that count as ‘someone’ dying?” he said, inserting air quotes around the word ‘someone.’

“Ho-ly shit, dude. What?! Get inside before somebody sees you!” He grabbed Daryl’s arm and yanked him inside, slamming the door behind them. “Now, explain. I watched the report on the news but it didn’t even register that it could’ve been your car. Is Damian okay? Where is he? How did you even get here? And why the fuck are you naked under a damn lab coat?”

The rapid fire questions peppered the air as he walked through the entryway into the kitchen. He pulled up a stool at the bar that separated the kitchen and the dining area and nodded at Daryl to take the other stool.

“First, is there any chance I can borrow a pair of sweats? And socks? Like you said, I’m kinda freeballin’ over here” he said with a flip of the lab coat that showed Clayton his bare ass.

“Stop! Yeah, shit. Sorry. One sec.” he said apologetically before he quickly walked to his room down the hallway. Daryl heard drawers opening and closing and in less than a minute Clayton was coming out with an armful of clothes and shoved them at him, motioning towards the bedroom. “Go get dressed, then come tell me what the hell happened. I’ll make some coffee, since it doesn’t look like I’m getting back to sleep tonight.”

Daryl gathered the clothes to his chest and made his way to the bedroom. He stood in front of the dresser mirror as he pulled the lab coat off and finally took a good look at himself. As he examined his legs, he couldn’t figure out why they looked off for a second. Until he realized that they were still perfectly smooth and hairless, which made him snort a laugh as he pulled the sweats on, easing them over his groin, which, thankfully, was mostly healed when he woke up.

But, now he looked like a baby down there too, and he debated on wasting the energy to speed grow the hair just to avoid the itchiness of regrowth. He trashed that idea as a wave of exhaustion hit him.

Daryl finished getting dressed and went back out to the kitchen, where a cup of coffee sat waiting for him, already made the way he liked. 

He sat down and took a sip of his coffee, sweetened with cream and sugar.

“I don’t know how you drink it that way. You can’t even taste the damn coffee.” Clayton told him, as he lifted his cup of black coffee to his lips.

“Yeah, that’s generally the point. Still get the caffeine without drinking a cup of bitter asshole” he replied

“And you would know what asshole tastes like because…?” Clayton teased him.

Daryl flipped him the bird as he laughed. He sat back in his chair and rubbed his hands down his face.

“So, what the hell happened?” Clayton prompted him.

“They found us. Someone recognized me, or something, and now they’re coming after Damian.” He answered simply.

“Not you?” Clayton asked

“No, they know a car wreck wouldn’t keep me down for long. They were trying to kill Damian. Just for fucking existing. And now shit is even more complicated because I have to become a whole new person and figure out a way to get him back before they find him.”

“Yeah, speaking of that. What’s your name now? I know you mentioned before you had a few…Can’t you just say you’re your own twin? Or, Daryl’s twin? Whatever the fuck, same thing.” Clayton waved his hand animatedly. “My point is, can’t you just go and claim rights of kin or something and get legal custody of him?”

“It’s possible, maybe. But first I have to establish Derek here.”

“Derek, huh? What’s with you and the D’s?” Clayton asked as he snickered.

“Nope! Don’t go there! Plus, I’ve been around awhile. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with finding pleasure where you can, with who you can.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m just fuckin’ with you.” Clayton stood up to pour himself another coffee, gesturing to ask if Daryl wanted more.

Daryl, well, Derek now, nodded in answer as he leaned back in his chair.

Clayton came back with two coffees and set them on the counter before he plopped back down on the stool.

“So, who the hell was the girl that saved Damian?” Clayton asked with a raised eyebrow.

At the mention of her, Derek immediately pictured two bright green eyes. He blinked away the image and shook his head, “I have no idea, honestly. Just somebody who saw it happen and stopped to help.”

“Well, the news got video of her car, and her, if you wanted to try to find out. I’m sure they’re already doing the legwork on that bit of info, anyway. All I could tell was that she was definitely one of those rural mail carriers. Like the ones you get out by your house, who use their own vehicle?”

He nodded in understanding as Clayton continued, “Yeah, it was an old beat-up Jeep with a US Mail sign on the side. So maybe they’ll do a news story about her and you can go–”

“Go what? Thank her for saving my son? The guy that she saw get blown to hell, just showing up on her doorstep to ask her to dinner as a thank you?” Derek shook his head. The idea of never seeing the woman again bothered him more than he could explain, and he didn’t want to talk about her. “No, I’m grateful to her, don’t get me wrong. It’s just..” he paused, “right now, I need to focus on getting Damian and getting the hell out of town. He’s not safe here anymore.”

Clayton sighed and sat back. He mimicked Derek’s earlier movements and rubbed his hands down his face, as if he could wipe away the stress of having an other as a best friend.

“I’m sorry, man. I shouldn’t be bothering you with this shit. You got enough to deal with as it is–” Derek started

“Nope, don’t start that shit. You’ve been there for me this whole time, you tried to heal my Mom even at risk of revealing yourself. No. You don’t get to shelter me from the weird shit you have to deal with because, well, you’re fucking weird.”

Derek snorted at that, then let out a huge yawn that seemed to catch him by surprise.

“How about, you crash on the couch for a few hours. I’ll catch another hour or two of sleep. Then you can drive me to work in the morning and use my car to start clearing out your apartment and getting everything you need to reestablish yourself in our boring human world, alright?” Clayton asked as he stood and stretched, stifling a yawn himself

Derek nodded in acquiescence and said “Yeah, you’re right. I can’t do shit if my power is tapped. I know I was unconscious for almost eight hours, but a healing sleep is more draining than not sleeping at all.”

Clayton walked to his linen closet in the hallway and pulled out a blanket and a pillow. He tossed both to Derek and turned toward his bedroom. Before he shut the door he turned back to Derek, “We’ll get Damian, dude. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re a weird motherfucker that can survive a car explosion” Derek smiled as the bedroom door closed. He threw the pillow on the couch and laid down with the blanket. He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.