Wyatt was in the kitchen, making breakfast for Mona, Scarlett taking care of their son upstairs. Mona was seated at the table, reading a small chapter book while Wyatt stood at the stove, cooking pancakes. To Wyatt, this was heaven. There was nowhere he'd rather be than here, at home, making breakfast for his daughter. He glanced over his shoulder at her and smiled to himself. Mona represented everything right he'd done in life, the culmination of a million small, good decisions.
"If these animals can talk, why can't people understand them?" Mona asked. "What are you reading?" Wyatt asked. "Charlotte's Web," Mona said, "and the animals all talk to one another, but none of the humans ever overhear them or understand them? Are they speaking a secret animal language?" Wyatt laughed as he flipped the pancakes onto a plate and walked them towards the table, setting them in front of her. "I don't know, but that's good that you're asking the important questions when it comes to childrens literature," he said. He sat down, coffee mug in his free hand, as he watched Mona bookmark her spot in her book, then pour syrup onto her pancakes and start to eat. Wyatt didn't have any plans for the day. He wasn't going into the office, he wasn't meeting with anyone, and all he really intended to do was spend the entire day here, at home, with his family. Scarlett entered, their son on her hip, and kissed the top of Wyatt's head as she passed by and headed to the fridge for a bottle. Just then there was a knock at the front door and Wyatt, sighing and rolling his eyes, stood up to go answer it. As he tugged the front door open, there, in a charcoal grey three piece suit with a trilby atop his head, stood an orange haired man. "Hello," the man said brightly, "hi, I'm Ricky Loach." Ricky held his arm out and Wyatt hesitantly shook his hand as he lifted his coffee mug to his lips and took a sip. "What can I do for you, Ricky?" Wyatt asked. "Oh, well, uh," Ricky said, "I'm, I'm actually here on behalf of the Loggins Aircraft Company. I'm doing some legwork for them in regards to the recent crash. It says here you're friends with the only survivor, one Kelly Schuester. I was hoping I could ask you a few questions regarding Miss Schuester?" And that was when Wyatt knew his free day was gone. *** Calvin was in his shed with Rachel. Calvin was standing over the workdesk and soldering something while Rachel sat away, with her own pair of goggles on just in case, while she ate from an enormous open bag of chips. The radio was on full blast, and neither one was interested in having a conversation, instead opting to happily just be there in silence, enjoying eachothers company. Just then the door to the shed was knocked loudly, and Calvin sighed. He stopped soldering, put down the gun and headed to the door, opening it, only to find Wyatt standing there. "Hey," Calvin said, "what are you-" "Do you have any idea how much you've fucked us, cause it's a lot," Wyatt said, entering and then noticing the goggles before asking, "...did I interrupt some kind of steampunk convention?" "Just doing some metalwork," Calvin said, "it's relaxing." "It's surprisingly fun to watch," Rachel said, "it's like watching those shows on TV where people drive trucks for a living. This is someone's job, how wild is that? People get up and actually DO things on a day to day basis. Wild." "What's going on?" Calvin asked. "An airline investigator came to my house this morning," Wyatt said, "asking about Kelly. Asking about my relationship to Kelly. Because now they're uncovering pieces of the bomb from her bag and painting her as an accountable party. The bomb YOU built and stuffed in there." An uncomfortable silence filled the shed. "...yeah," Calvin said quietly, "yeah, I was worried this might happen. So what did you say?" "What could I say? I just said I knew Kelly from highschool, and otherwise I don't know her well at all. Just that she's a friend of a friend, which means-" Wyatt said, pointing towards Rachel now, who had pulled her goggles up on her forehead, adding, "he's gonna come to you next. Right now our biggest priority is to ensure that Kelly doesn't get pinned for this. She didn't do anything wrong. She was just trying to do her job." "I think we'd better have a lawyer present," Rachel said, and Wyatt knew just who to call. *** "So," Ricky said, sitting on Wyatt's couch, Wyatt in a lounge chair across from him, still drinking his coffee; Ricky pulled his hat off and set it beside him, continuing, "what is your relationship to Miss Schuester?" "Not much of one, really," Wyatt said. "Says you were one of the first ones at the hospital to see her. Doesn't sound like not much of one," Ricky replied. "Well, she's a friend of a friend from highschool, I more went to support my friend, you know? Be comfort for her. But as far as Kelly and I are concerned, we'd met maybe twice? Three times total? I'm not saying we don't know eachother, but we know eachother about as well as, say, someone who lives in a dorm with another student. We're cordial, but otherwise, yeah." Ricky laughed as he wrote something down on a piece of paper. "That's fair," he said, "I remember being in college and never talking to my dormmate. They were just kinda there, you know? So you don't know Miss Schuester well, okay, but can I ask you about some of your interactions with her? Maybe, perhaps, of what your impression of her might be? She's a local weather girl, as you obviously know, but did she ever come across as, say...an impassioned fighter for nature? A sort of ecorights warrior?" Wyatt laughed into his coffee, fighting back the urge to cackle like an idiot and do a full on spit take. "Sorry, sorry," Wyatt said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, "I'm sorry, that's just...that's so stupid. What would...like...why would you even think that?" "Because we found shrapnel and other pieces of what appear to be part of a homemade explosive in her luggage," Ricky said, and Wyatt felt his heart drop in his chest; Ricky continued, "she's on a plane full of people people fighting for the environment, under the name of a monster, and perhaps she had motive to stop them." "But if she were a part of that belief system, why would she blow anyone up? Let alone I doubt she knows how to make a bomb," Wyatt said, "woman can barely use a knife and fork properly." "Maybe she disagreed with the way they were going about things, or maybe she hated who they followed," Ricky said, shrugging, "listen, it's no secret that Oliver Bloom was a horrible person, and the fact that they chose to ignore that aspect of him in favor of worshipping his 'message' to save the planet is, between you and I, kinda fuckin' gross. Maybe she felt the same way." Wyatt set his mug down on the coffee table beside him and sighed, crossing his legs. "Listen," Wyatt said, "I've met Kelly like three, maybe four times total. So sure, I don't know her that well and maybe I don't know what she could possibly be capable of. Plenty of people lead double or even triple lives. But between you and me, from what little knowledge about her I've accrued, she doesn't strike me as the kind of person to do such a thing. As for finding pieces of an explosive device, yeah, that looks bad, very suspicious, but I'm willing to bet if you asked her to rebuild it, she would't know the first thing about how to do so." "Then how'd it get there?" Ricky asked, shrugging. "...I...I don't know, I'm just spitballing here," Wyatt said, stammering, "all I'm saying is she's a fucking weather girl, man. And, just as an added bonus, why would she board a plane she intended to blow up? How would that help her cause? Kelly isn't responsible for such a thing." Ricky nodded slowly, jotting some other things down in his legal pad before shutting it and looking at Wyatt sternly. "Yes?" Wyatt asked. "Can I ask you a question?" Ricky asked. "You've already asked a bunch, so what's stopping you," Wyatt replied, picking his mug back up and continuing to drink. "...from the phone records," Ricky said, "it said she called you from the airplane before it crashed." "She did, and she sounded terrified," Wyatt said. "Well, yeah, that's what I was gonna say," Ricky said, "the airline records all in flight outgoing calls for posterity sake, and having heard it, yeah, she sounded legitimately, genuinely terrified. Which leads me to believe, personally, that you're right, and she had no clue that that thing was in her bag. Course I can't just present my ideas without evidence to back them up. If she didn't build it, put it in there, then who did? That's the question we're really after." Wyatt nodded slowly, listening. He could turn Calvin in right now. He could pin Calvin for it, give him up for Grudin's death as well, and make this all go away, but...but he couldn't do that. He knew he couldn't. He wasn't that type of person. Besides, he was as partially responsible for Grudin's death as Calvin was, and he didn't want to risk going down himself for it. Wyatt sighed and shook his head. "Guess you got a real mystery on your hands, don't you?" Wyatt asked, and Ricky smirked. "Luckily for me," Ricky said, "I'm very good at solving puzzles." *** "Okay, for the final time, I'm an ecological lawyer," Celia said. She and Wyatt were standing just outside the shed, Calvin and Rachel inside talking amongst themselves. Celia had her arms crossed, looking clearly annoyed at having been called down here. Wyatt, his hands on his hips, didn't look too pleased himself to be dealing with this situation on what had previously been, just an hour before, his day off. "The investigator says she might've been doing it for the sake of the environment, can't we spin that in a good way?" Wyatt asked, "I mean, here's the thing, I don't want Kelly to go down for this, she's totally innocent, but maybe Calvin would agree to take the hit, and we can say he's just...a nature lover. You're a defense lawyer fighting against big businesses hurting the planet, can't you do your magic?" "First of all, to assume it's that easy is ridiculous, secondly, the kind of cases I work on are about paper companies overshooting on their estimations, not people blowing up planes to save the world from even nuttier nature preservationists, okay?" Wyatt sighed and sat down on the wooden picnic bench in the backyard. Celia sat down beside him and put a hand on his back. "Frankly," Celia said quietly, "I think, and this sucks to say but...I think she needs to know." "She can't know," Wyatt said, chewing on his thumbnail, "she can never know. If she knew..." "If she knew, she could more easily defend herself if anyone comes after her," Celia said, "but you said it yourself, even this investigator doesn't think she's remotely responsible. Right now they're running in circles with no real leads. The worst thing we can do for her is pretend we know nothing. Besides, she wouldn't hate you, you were unaware of what Calvin did, and you tried to beat the shit out of him for it afterwards." Wyatt nodded, slowly realizing Celia was right. He was backed into a corner, and Kelly had to finally know. He sighed and looked at Celia, who just smiled warmly at him and pulled him into a hug. Wyatt cried on her shoulder while she rubbed his back, reassuring him he'd be okay. "this was my day off," he whispered. "Yeah, me too," Celia replied. *** Ricky walked through the doorway and stopped on the front porch, turning back to face Wyatt. "Yeah?" Wyatt asked, "anything else?" "Just give me a call if you have any other ideas or information," Ricky said, handing Wyatt his card from his coat pocket, adding, "ya know, it's weird, people can be doing noble things, truthfully the right thing, morally, but if done in a way that's viewed as wrong, their entire purpose can be twisted. Suddenly what was seen as heroic is seen as monstrous. I'm all for saving the environment myself, but not at the expense of blowing people up, even if they were self proclaimed nutjobs." "Morals are tricky," Wyatt said, "that's why so many polticians don't last long." "Wyatt," Ricky said, smirking at his statement, "I'm just letting you know...I might not be the only one asking about this. There might be others coming forward. Insurance companies. Detectives. Whatever. Just know that I'm on your side, pal, I wanna help get the right person for this, not the wrong one. If you're gonna trust anyone, trust me, cause, if you don't...who knows what could happen." Wyatt furrowed his brow and pocketed the card. "Is that a threat?" Wyatt asked. "More like a..." Ricky said, shrugging, "a warning, I guess. Have a good afternoon." With that, Ricky Loach turned and walked off the front porch. Before he knew it, Wyatt was upstairs, getting dressed, and racing over to Calvin's. And now...now after being at Calvin's, he found himself heading somewhere else. It was time for Kelly to know the truth. *** Kelly was laying on the couch, watching TV and eating pretzel sticks out of a large bowl when the front door opened. She watched as Wyatt came around the side of the wall and entered the living room, and she immediately perked up, muting the television as he sat down. "You know, the front door is unlocked, any old weirdo could just come in here," he said. "Any old weirdo did," Kelly replied, winking, making him smirk. "Where are your folks?" "At work," Kelly said, "what's up?" Wyatt shifted uncomfortably in his seat and sighed. "Kelly," he said, "...today I had someone from the airline come and meet with me. He asked me about you, about the plane crash. He said they founded pieces of an explosive device within your luggage. Thankfully he doesn't buy that you put it there, but..." "...a bomb? There was a bomb in my shit?" Kelly asked, sounding surprised and scared simultaneously. "Yeah," Wyatt nodded, "a bomb. A homemade bomb. And, uh...don't worry, I mean, I told him you obviously had nothing to do with it, you can barely work your oven, and like I said, he doesn't believe for one second you were remotely responsible for such a thing, but..." Wyatt looked down at his feet as Kelly shifted, sitting upright as best she could, looking anxious. "Wyatt?" she asked softly. "We need to talk about Calvin," Wyatt said. Everything came out from that point on. Grudin. The Evergreens. Brighton. Calvin's past and his obsession with bomb making. By the end of it all, Kelly was aghast, and Wyatt was sobbing, apologizing, but Kelly didn't blame him for one second. Kelly never would. She knew Wyatt now, she knew he was a good man and would never willingly hurt her, and if nothing else, she seemed grateful for having been told the truth. Wyatt promised her that she'd be protected, would never be blamed for anything, she was a total and complete innocent who, thanks to Calvin, had been roped into their nonsense, and Kelly felt appreciative to be kept safe. "This is...ridiculous," Kelly muttered. "Yeah, it's been a hell of a few months," Wyatt replied, wiping his eyes on his shirt sleeve, "but, ya know, I'm gonna do my best to continue to keep things together, make sure nothing gets any worse, and-" "And what about Calvin?" Kelly asked, "he's clearly unhinged. If he blew up a plane, what will he do next?" Wyatt had been asking himself that very question, just as had Rachel asked him as well the day of the crash. Just as Celia had once inquired the day they shredded those pictures and files down by the riverbank. Wyatt knew Calvin himself was a ticking timebomb, ready to go off and take everyone around him with him, and what do you do with bombs? How do you save those who don't deserve to be blown to smithereens? You defuse them.
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"Okay, if I'm gonna let you help me, meet my friends, you need to be normal," Wyatt said.
He was standing in Angie's bedroom. Her folks were gone for the day, and he told Calvin and Rachel they would come pick them up once he had his "supplier", though he didn't really know what he meant by that seeing as Angie wasn't even the one who had drugs, she just knew where they could be obtained. Angie tilted her head at him, a confused look on her face. "Am I normally not?" she asked, sounding almost hurt. "No, no, don't take it to mean that," Wyatt said, "no, I just mean, uh...you gotta be...ya know, socially acceptable." "Oh, well, that's so different," Angie said, sneering. Wyatt sighed and sat down on her bed, scratching the back of his head. "You just can't be going on about worship and stuff, you'll freak 'em out and Rachel's already on edge cause of her hallucinations and...and Calvin, that's a whole other can of worms altogether. That guy is always one light switch short of mass murder, it seems like," Wyatt said, running his face through his hands and sighing, adding, "You say you wanna help me, then help me. Please." "What makes you even think I know where to look," Angie asked, crossing her legs as she sat in her desk chair. "Because you were part of The Evergreens, and groups like that aren't going over the counter," Wyatt said, "you know someone downtown has some kind of hook up. We're not even looking for a technically illegal substance. Just antipsychotics. And knowing you...the issues you deal with..." Angie grimaced, then sighed, nodding. "Alright," she said, "I know where we can go." *** Before joining the Evergreens, Angie was...well....it'd be a lie to say she was 'normal', but she was moderately plain at best. Despite her family's involvement, then exit, from a cult early in life, she lived a fairly ordinary childhood. She went to school, she had friends, she participated in after school activities. On the surface, Angie Dickenson seemed to be just your average everyday young lady. But nobody saw the things she saw in her head. They had no way of knowing just how sick she actually was. Because to look at her from afar, in her pretty dress with her femme appearance and her cheeerful demeanor, you'd never guess she saw things that weren't there, or heard things nobody else heard. You'd never guess she wasn't like you. It really started in earnest when she was a teenager. After spending a good chunk of her youth in the cult with her parents, and eventually leaving, she started to cling to the belief that she was destined for more, because, well, for all of her adolescence that was the line she'd been fed by their leader. When she started to hear a voice telling her how she could achieve 'more', she listened. She started harrassing other students at school, but never gave her parents shit. After a while, her folks knew they couldn't let this continue unchecked, so they got Angie into therapy, and on various medications and, for the most part, it all seemed to calm down. She wound up joining the Evergreens and then...and then she met Wyatt Bloom. And it started all over again. *** "How do you even know this girl?" Calvin asked, as he and Wyatt stood outside Wyatt's car, Angie in the front passenger seat, as they waited for Rachel to come down from her apartment. "It's a long story," Wyatt said. "I'm not goin' anywhere," Calvin replied. "She was part of the Evergreens, but she left," Wyatt said, "since I apparently convinced her not to be involved with them, she didn't end up on the plane, and now she wants to thank me however she can. I guess finding street drugs is one way of helping me. Frankly, I don't want to be involved with her whatsoever, she creeps me the hell out, but..." Wyatt sighed and looked back up at the apartment building, adding, "...but Rachel needs help, and I want to help Rachel be okay." Calvin smiled weakly. He was glad Wyatt did seem to genuinely care about Rachel, that they were in fact actual friends. She deserved that kind of support. Finally Rachel came out of the front doors of the apartment building and jogged up to them, looking anxious and nervy. "You doin' okay, sport?" Wyatt asked, hitting her on the shoulder. "What are you, my little league coach?" Rachel asked, making them both laugh; she added, "come on, let's just...let's just do this, yeah? I can't be like this for another day." Rachel pulled open the back door to the car and climbed in as Calvin went around to the other side, also entering. Wyatt climbed back into the drivers side seat and started the car back up once everyone's seat belt was fastened. He exhaled, pulled away from the curb and started to drive towards an area of town they all often avoided, primarily because it was associated with the exact kind of activity they were attempting today. As they pulled into the street and immediately hit traffic, Wyatt sighed and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. "So you used to be on antipsychotics?" Rachel asked, leaning between the front seats, talking to Angie. "I was, yeah," Angie replied, "and, well, maybe I still should be, but that's hard to determine." "Well I really appreciate your help," Rachel said, "I don't have the kind of insurance or money that would cover medication, so, seriously...this...this means a lot." Angie smiled. She was happy to help, after all it's what she'd been doing most of her life. Helping. Course, all Wyatt could think of with both Angie and Calvin together in the car is how Angie had no idea that the very man who nearly killed her was sitting right behind her. Wyatt rolled his window down, put his arm out and chewed on his lip. "So," Calvin asked, "where are we going?" A pause as Wyatt glanced at Angie and then sighed. "Stonyham," Wyatt said. *** Of all the people to know what Stonyham was, Wyatt was the last one you'd expect. Stonyham was a small suburb about 40 minutes away from where they lived, and was often the place where, in high school, teenagers would frequent for their obtaining of illicit narcotics and alcohol. The only reason Wyatt even knew what it was was because before meeting Scarlett, he and Amelia had gone up there to try and get something one weekend. It had been Amelia's idea, surprisingly enough, because she'd read in a book somewhere that eating mushrooms could make you hallucinate, and she wanted that vivid experience to help her come up with new ideas. Wyatt, being the supportive boyfriend he was, was on board, albeit hesitantly. After finding out from another kid on his baseball team where exactly to get such a hookup, Wyatt and Amelia set aside their Saturday night and headed on up to Stonyham. Once they'd acquired the substance, they drove back down to their area - mostly for fear of being robbed while high up there - and parked in a secluded spot where nobody would bother them. They laid on the hood of the car and ate the mushrooms together, then watched the night sky overhead. Looking back on it years later, this would be one of the best memories from Wyatt's high school years, and in hindsight, it only made him feel even worse for how things with Amelia had gone down. Lying there, staring up at the stars above, Wyatt could feel Amelia lace her fingers in his and he smiled. "What if the universe is just a falsehood, like a...a tulpa, cause we believe in it, so that makes it real, but it doesn't actually exist in a tangible sense?" Amelia asked. "That's...that's a lot, right now," Wyatt replied, the both of them laughing. "It just seems like too much is too perfect," Amelia continued, "like how the food cycle exists so circularly, like it was designed to be that way, when really it's just random happenstance." "I don't wanna go home," Wyatt said suddenly, feeling clammy and anxious. "Why?" Amelia asked. "I'm scared of my dad," Wyatt whispered, rolling onto his side on the hood and looking at Amelia, who did the same. Wyatt looked at her, his eyes wide, like he was about to cry, "will you protect me?" "I'll protect you," Amelia whispered, reaching out and touching his face gently, bringing to him a sense of calm. Yes, this was the only time he'd ever openly admitted being scared of his father, and it was to the one girl he'd wind up hurting the most in his life. Wyatt regretted a lot of his actions, but the way he ended things with Amelia still topped the list, and he wasn't sure he'd ever get the chance to say sorry, or that she'd even accept his apology if he managed to. He didn't want to make that kind of mistake again. Perhaps that explained his patience with Angie, despite her clearly mentally unwell state of being, but all Wyatt really knew was that he trusted women far more than he trusted men, and so if Angie told him to go to Stonyham, he'd go to Stonyham, especially if it meant helping Rachel. After Amelia, Wyatt made a vow to himself to never hurt another woman again, and instead to do what he could to help them. And he'd almost keep that promise. *** "You ever think about the fact that your hair and nails keep growing after you die?" Rachel asked, looking at her hand, "that drives me insane. I have to not only be dead, but I also have to be unkempt?" "Frankly I think between the two being dead is the worse part," Calvin said. "They should have beauticians that come by and open up coffins for like the first year after death, keep you looking presentable, even if you're not being presented to anyone," Angie said, "it's just common courtesy." "Guys, could you lighten up a bit, this is kinda grim," Wyatt said as he headed onto the small bridge that led into Stonyham, the others all chuckling at him. Rachel leaned back in her seat and admired her nails once more. Calvin looked out the window at the water below them and thought about how he and his sister used to go swimming up at their grandparents lake cabin, and how much he missed that. How much he missed her. Seemed he was always drawn to the water in one way or another, like when he'd shredded all those files with Wyatt and Celia. "It's genuinely terrifying," Rachel said softly from the backseat, fidgeting with her hands, "knowing something isn't real, yet seeing it, and thus gaslighting yourself int believing it could be. You begin to question your own eyes and sense of reality. It warps everything, throws all of being into question. Some people can handle it, but...I'm not one of those people." "Well, we're gonna get you fixed right up," Wyatt said, "don't worry, we'll find something for you." Rachel smiled, feeling extremely lucky to have the kinds of friends she did. Had she known back in high school that one day Wyatt Bloom and Calvin Klepper would be assisting her in any way they could to help her mental faculties, she would've scoffed at the idea, and yet, now, here they were doing just that. Seemed preposterous. As they pulled into a small neighborhood, Angie patted Wyatt on the arm a few times, then motioned for him to pull over here, so he did. As the car came to a slow crawl and finally stopped, Angie looked at Wyatt, and Wyatt sighed, pulling out his wallet and handing her a wad of cash. "Don't overspend," Wyatt said. "It costs what it costs," Angie replied, "you don't haggle with drug dealers, that's how you wind up dead. Seeing as I've already skirted death by a hair once, I'm not looking to do it again." With that, Angie exited the car, and Calvin, surprising the others, offered to go with her. Wyatt watched them exit into a building, and then he leaned back in his chair and sighed. Rachel climbed up into the front seat and pulled her knees up to her chest on the chair, resting her chin on them. "You alright?" Wyatt asked. "I don't know," Rachel said, shrugging, "I just wish my parents cared more. They just see all my problems as self imposed. People of that generation, anything that's wrong with someone is either made up or something of their own doing. My parents know I was almost sexually assaulted, they know I see things, but they just...don't care. They prefer to ignore them, because oh no, their perfect little girl might make them social pariahs if they acknowledge any of her faults." "Do they know you're gay?" Wyatt asked, and Rachel shook her head, chuckling. "Fuck no," she said, "god, could you imagine? Being mentally ill and queer? They'd outright disown me. My dad, once when I was back from college after the assault and after I'd started hallucinating, I overheard him say to my mom that watching me was like watching a slow motion car accident." Wyatt felt bad for Rachel. It was clear she'd struggled to connect with her own family, and being someone who also struggled to connect with his, particularly his father, he knew that pain. His thoughts then turned to Mona. Hopefully he wasn't being that way with her. Hopefully he was doing things right. The last thing he wanted was for her to look back on her childhood and feel let down, and not because he'd feel like a failure, but because she'd be upset. He sighed and scratched his forehead. "Having kids is easy," he said, "raising kids is hard. Anyone can have them, but raising them? Being nurturing? That's just something a lot of people think they have in them, but they don't. Not really. They think they can do it, but when it comes down to it, they can't. And it's fine, it's not for everyone, but what's the worst is when people have kids regardless of knowing they can't do it properly. Then they just...damage another person. You deserved a better family, Rachel, I'm so sorry." Rachel looked at Wyatt, her face wet with tears, as she leaned in against him and rested her face on his chest, and he reached up and stroked her hair while she cried. "Why don't they want me," she whimpered, and Wyatt shook his head. "I don't know," Wyatt said, whispering back, "but we do. That has to count for something." Rachel smiled and nodded, continuing to cry and hugging him. After a bit, Angie and Calvin returned, pills in hand. Angie returned what was left of Wyatt's money, and together, the group drove out of Stonyham. This was the last time Wyatt ever wanted to come here. Life was dangerous enough with spending it in a run down inner city suburb. By the time they got back to their part of town, Wyatt suggested they get dinner, and offered to pay. The four of them ate a family restaurant, and had a pretty good time doing so. Even Rachel, who just an hour before had been in a precariously emotional state, was having a great time with them, and Wyatt felt like, if she didn't have a good family, he'd have to be the next best thing. She deserved that much. *** After dropping everyone else off, Wyatt pulled up to Angie's parents place and parked. Angie gathered her small backpack and climbed out of the car, then leaned back in through the rolled down passenger window and looked at Wyatt, who looked back at her with uncertainty, unsure of what she wanted. "...thanks for including me," Angie said, "it feels nice, to be a part of something again. After leaving the Evergreens, it felt like I didn't really have a purpose. I'm glad to be able to help." "Yeah, well, don't get used to it," Wyatt said, "not to be rude, but I just don't foresee many instances where we'll require your specific kind of help. But, you know, if you want to just hang out with us, you're free to." Angie felt her heart swell with joy, and she had to fight to hold back tears. "You know," Angie said, "when I was little, my parents and I were in a cult." "Seems to be a common occurance with you," Wyatt said, making her snort, laughing. "Yeah, well," she said, "Some people just function better in a restrictive situation like that. Anyway, ever since that dissolved, I looked for another place to feel...needed. The Evergreens were great, but, you were right. I was following a martyr who didn't deserve matyrdom. I don't want to die for a cause I don't believe in, just because others are. But you, Wyatt, you're someone worth following. You would've made a great cult leader." With that, Angie said goodnight, then headed inside, leaving Wyatt in his car, speechless. He grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and let his forehead hit the center of the wheel, beeping a soft honk. "Dammit," he whispered. Rachel woke up and licked her lips. She needed a glass of water. She slowly climbed out of bed and headed quietly down the hallway, heading to the stairs to get downstairs to get a drink. She walked quietly so as not to wake her parents. Rachel put her hand on the stairway bannister and gripped firmly, walking softly down the stairs. With her free hand, she reached up and rubbed her eyes, yawning. Suddenly, through the blurriness of her sight, she saw it at the bottom of the stairs. It was standing there, its skin clear, translucent, its organs visible. Rachel screamed and stumbled, falling down the remainder of the stairs.
Soon Rachels parents arrived to help her up, and make sure she was okay. Her mother escorted her back to her bedroom, while her father went and got her a glass of water. Once Rachel had finished drinking it, she apologized to them both for waking them up, and they continued to reassure her that it was okay, and they were just happy she was okay. Rachel said goodnight to her parents, and laid back down to sleep as her parents left her bedroom. Lying in the dark, terrified she'd see it again, Rachel instead tried to think about something - anything - else. After a while, her mind settled on a girl she'd met at art camp that summer. She shut her eyes and imagined talking to her, trying to ease herself back into a restful sleep by daydreaming about her. It seemed to work, because in about fifteen minutes, Rachel was asleep again. Now, as an adult, Rachel awoke and rolled over in bed, seeing Sun Rai asleep beside her. Rachel smiled and nuzzled up to her, pushing her face against Sun's neck. Sun smiled and ran her hand up into Rachel's hair, stroking it gently. At least now, even if she was seeing the horse again, Rachel had someone who could truly help her, and that made her feel much safer. She couldn't imagine being without her now, she'd become such a source of comfort. Rachel opened her eyes and spied the horse, standing behind Sun Rai, and quickly shut her eyes again. She'd do what she'd been taught. Ignore it. But it was hard to ignore things that refused to be ignored. Rachel conceded that she finally needed help. *** "Alright," Wyatt said, squirting mustard onto his burger, "here's how this is gonna go. I'm not someone to worship." Wyatt had invited Angie to lunch, to try and dissuade her from following him. He'd even offered to buy her lunch. "I'm just a dude, alright, I'm not...I'm not some kind of seer or all seeing knowledgable diety, I'm just some guy who happened to, coincidentally, give you some good advice that then happened to, coincidentally, save your life. And while I understand you're grateful for that, it doesn't warrant worshipping me," Wyatt said, taking a bite of his burger, speaking while chewing, "because quite frankly, and you can even confirm this with my wife, I'm nothing special." "I know you don't have powers," Angie said, chuckling, "I'm not crazy, Wyatt." Wyatt scoffed. That was a rich one. "But that isn't what it's about," Angie said, "you did something amazing. You pulled me out of a cult, and you kept me from dying for an unjust martyr. I have to repay you somehow." "Repay me by not stalking me, how's that sound?" Wyatt asked, and Angie laughed as she picked up her own burger and beginning to eat. How could he possibly get through to this girl that this wasn't acceptable behavior? His only real chance was going to the police about her, but, given his activities, he didn't really feel like getting involved with law enforcement. Wyatt sighed and set his burger down, scratching his forehead. He finally said, "okay, Angie, I'm going to pay you, okay? How's that sound? You want some money?" "Money?" "Yes. One thousand dollars to leave me the hell alone, how's that sound? Usually the worshipped is the one asking for money, but in this instance, I'm giving it to you, so maybe you can see how much better I am," Wyatt said, pulling out his checkbook and a pen, "so I'm going to write you this check for a thousand dollars, and you do whatever you want with it. Go to therapy, go to school, I don't care, just...stop following me and leave my family alone." "Wyatt, what kind of maniac do you take me for?" Angie asked, sounding genuinely hurt, "...I don't want to hurt you, or your family. I just want to repay the favor. Be of any kind of help that I can." Wyatt stopped writing the check and then set his pen down. He knew he couldn't actually pay Angie off without Scarlet wondering where the money had gone to. He sighed and ran one hand up through his hair, feeling backed into a corner without any options. What move could he make here, realistically? "I...I appreciate that, but I really don't need any help," Wyatt said. "If you do, you know I'll be there," Angie said. Wyatt smiled weakly. All creepiness aside, it was one of the more enjoyable lunches he'd had lately, and that surprised him most of all. *** Calvin opened the shed door, only to find Rachel standing there. "My parents told you I was out here?" he asked, stepping aside and letting her come in. "Yeah, they didn't seem all that surprised that you had a visitor," Rachel replied, stepping into the shed. She handed Calvin a bag of chips she'd brought with her, and he laughed as he took them and pulled them open. "It's not a potluck, you're not expected to bring something everytime you come over," he said, chuckling. "Felt natural," Rachel said, shrugging, leaning against his worktable and adding, "...um...I need some help. You have a sister, right? A sister with some mental health problems?" "Yeah, why?" Calvin asked, pouring the chips into a large plastic bowl and setting it on the table. "...how severe are her issues?" Rachel asked. "Depends," Calvin said, "Depends on whether or not she's taking her medication, whether or not she's in therapy, those sorts of things. Some days it seems manageable, other days it's not at all. It's really a day by day basis type situation. Why?" "I...when I was eleven," Rachel said, exhaling slowly, her hands trembling, "I was very heavily involved in horseback. Used to take lessons, used to do performances, it was such an upperclass white girl thing. It's one of the reasons Kelly and I became such good friends, was because of this shared interest. Anyway, one year, I was on this horseback trail with another girl and our instructor. Anyway, we stopped riding for a few minutes, ya know, give the horses a break and maybe have a snack, and the other girl, Amy, she went to get something from her bag and..." Calvin picked out a few chips and ate them, waiting for Rachel to continue, only to notice the tears starting to roll down her face. Rachel reached up and wiped them with her sweatshirt sleeve, exhaling, her voice shaky. "...and as she was passing back towards me to give me what I'd asked for, my horse kicked her," Rachel said, hers and Calvins eyes locking as she added, quietly, "...in the head." "Jesus." "Yeah," Rachel said, hopping up onto the worktable and crossing her legs, "yeah, it was...not good. Gruesome. We obviously had to end the ride right then and there and get her back to help, but we were so far from the ranch that it took us over an hour to get back, and by the time we did, there wasn't much they could do to salvage the situation. She incurred tremendous brain damage. She wasn't the same person anymore. She didn't even know who she was. I've always felt so responsible, and it was shortly after that that the hallucinations started." "Why is it see through?" Calvin asked, and Rachel shrugged. "Far be it from me to make sense of my mental instabilities and give you satisfying answers," she replied, "all I know is that it's started again, and I need to do something about it. I need help, Calvin. I was hoping you might be able to help me." Calvin nodded, listening. After all the wrong he had done, he figured he owed it to Rachel to try and do right instead. He didn't know how he could manage it, but he would help her get on medication. Calvin walked around the table to the front of her and hugged her. Rachel cried against his shoulder as he rubbed her back. "You're alright," he said softly, "we'll figure this out." *** "You're in some deep shit," Celia said, as Wyatt paced in his office while she ate her sandwich. "Thanks, I wasn't aware of that," Wyatt said, making her laugh; he quickly added, "I...I don't know what to do, or if I even should do anything. I mean, she doesn't seem to pose an immediate threat, but at the same time, I can't have some young woman following me around begging to do things for me." "Are you sure you're a man?" Celia asked, and Wyatt smirked as he sat on his desk and lit a cigar. "Everything just keeps going from bad to worse," Wyatt said, "there's virtually no way to guarantee she won't fly off her handle and do something wild. I know she said she just wants to help me if she can, but...but what if I keep insisting I don't need her help, and then she decides to turn against me as a result?" "You're putting way too much thought into this," Celia said, setting her sandwich down and picking up her drink; after she took a long sip, she burped and said, "just face it as it is. She's some of weird devoted fangirl, she's not going to turn on you. Have her do simple errands just to keep her satisfied if you're so worried. Otherwise just ignore it." Wyatt took a long puff from his cigar and sighed. He couldn't believe this. All of this stemmed from one decision...Robert Grudin. Had he never involved himself with that, had he never involved himself with Calvin, none of this would've happened. Course, he might not know Celia and Rachel and Kelly as a result, and he definitely didn't want to miss out on those friendships, even in spite of the danger Calvin invited into his life. Wyatt took another long puff, then stubbed it out in the ashtray. "Maybe you're right," Wyatt said, "it's a good thing you're so level headed, you often keep me grounded, and I appreciate that." "Well, there's a reason I'm a lawyer," Celia said, shrugging. "Yeah, for trees," Wyatt muttered. "Hey, trees need representation," Celia said, the both of them laughing. Truth be told, Wyatt meant every word he said. Celia was the closest thing he had to a normal friend, and greatly appreciated her down to earth approach to various problems and issues. She often kept him on his feet, and that made him feel safer, even in the most dangerous situations. Wyatt really didn't know where he'd be without her input. "And if she really does wanna do things for you," Celia said, "send her my way. I'll give her some stuff to do. My garage could use some cleaning." "I'm not going to use my worshippers for slave labor," Wyatt said. "Jeez, what kind of God are you?" Celia asked, the both of them laughing. *** "Do they have you on heavy medication?" Rachel asked, sitting on Kelly's bedside, both of them looking through old National Geographic magazines. "Kinda? I have stuff I have to take for pain now and then," Kelly said, "but that's only when it gets to be too insufferable. Wish I could do that for everything else that's insufferable. Oh, some creep is hitting on me, just pop a Jerk-B-Gone and be free of that headache in an instant." Rachel laughed and nodded, agreeing. She knew coming to see Kelly would cheer her up. Her time with Calvin had been good, necessary, but being with her actual best friend was a real pick me up, emotionally. "Are you able to bathe, or do your parents have to give you sponge baths?" Rachel asked. "Okay, we're not talking about this anymore," Kelly replied, turning the page in her magazine, asking, "what possible reason could you have to even know? You plan on surviving a plane crash too?" "Not particularly, unless you recommend it," Rachel said. "Eh, it's got a kind of thrill to it," Kelly shrugged. Rachel looked up from her magazine and around the room. Truthfully, though she wouldn't tell Kelly this, she was trying to eke out any kind of information she might have in regards to the medication she had lying around, knowing full well none of it would actually do what she needed it to do, but she didn't know where else to go. Rachel sighed and went back to looking at her magazine as Kelly reached for the glass on her bedside table. "Maybe when I'm better, I'll go into the street drug trade," Kelly said, "supplement my weather girl income by selling whatever pain medication I have leftover." And that's when Rachel got the idea. *** Wyatt pulled up in his driveway and shut his car off. He reached for his briefcase on the passenger seat, gripping the handle, and opened his door, climbing out of the car. Once he was standing in the driveway, he heard the sound of something falling to the ground and glanced downwards, only to notice he'd dropped his car keys. He sighed, annoyed, before bending down to retrieve them. "We need some help," Calvin said from behind, scaring him. Wyatt, just as he'd done with Angie the night before, leapt upwards, hand to his chest. "Everyone needs to stop doing that to me!" he shouted. "Wyatt, this is serious," Calvin said. Wyatt looked past Calvin, spying Rachel in Calvin's car, and he furrowed his brow. "What's this about?" Wyatt asked. "Rachel needs help," Calvin said, "she needs serious antipsychotics. She's been having hallucinations, and I'm worried if we lose her, we'll lose ourselves. She's the glue. We need to do something to keep her stabilized. Now, I know you have health insurance, but you likely can't get something you don't need, which is why Rachel's suggested we go to the street for it. Sadly, neither of us know anyone who might know how to score street level antipsychotics." Wyatt sighed and looked at his shoes. "I do," he said quietly, surprising Calvin with this admittance, before reaching into his coat pocket and pulling his cell phone out, dialing, then waiting. An answer. Wyatt grimaced and said, "Hey, Angie, it's Wyatt. I need you to do something for me." |
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A group of former high school classmates reunite at their 10 year reunion, and discover they each want something different, many with someone else there. What ensues is a labyrinthian relationship amongst them involving crime, murder, romance and, in one particular case, terrorism. Archives
May 2024
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