Kelly Schuester had never used an airplane phone before, and she couldn't believe it was the last thing she'd do before dying. She dialed quickly, with reckless abandon, hoping that the numbers she put in would actually connect to the number she'd hoped to reach. It rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Then, during the fourth ring, it finally picked up, and Kelly felt an immense sense of relief, despite facing her seemingly impending demise.
"I didn't know who else to call," she managed to squeak out, tears welling in her eyes, "I didn't...this is the only number I could think of." "It's okay, you're okay," Wyatt responded. "Where are you?" "In the kitchen, the TV is super loud," Wyatt said, "everyone screaming over one another. Kelly, just breath, okay? Just breath and everything will be okay." "I'm on a crashing plane, how will everything be okay?" Kelly asked, fighting back tears, "Wyatt, just...tell Rachel she's my best friend no matter what, okay? And...and that...and tell my parents, you can find them in the phonebook, tell them that I love them so much, please, and-" "Kelly, you're not going to die, okay?!" Wyatt shouted, "You're gonna be just fine!" "I can see the ground," Kelly said, "I can-" The phone went dead. The line clicked endlessly. Wyatt stood in the kitchen, staring at his cell, before he turned and threw his phone across the room and watched it shatter on the wall just as Calvin entered the room and their eyes met. Wyatt approached him and grabbed him by his collar, lifting him up a bit, his eyes burning with hatred. "What did you do?" Wyatt asked through gritted teeth. 1 MONTH EARLIER Wyatt hadn't had a good nights sleep in months. He'd tried a dozen different sleep aides, he'd done the classics, like drinking warm milk - despite his utter disgust for milk in general - and he and Scarlett had even started having sex extremely frequently simply because they knew it would tire them out. Unfortunately for Wyatt, while Scarlett managed to fall asleep relatively soon after their nightly bouts of passion, Wyatt instead tossed and turned, opting eventually to climb out of bed, drag himself downstairs, and watch old classic westerns and horror movies on TV. Sometimes Mona would wake up and they would sit and watch movies together, just having some father/daughter bonding time. In actuality, while he did hate not sleeping, he was appreciative of the time he was managing to spend with his daughter. This particular morning, he was standing in the kitchen pouring himself a large mug of coffee when Scarlett entered and kissed his neck from behind, making him blush. She then patted him on the butt and headed to the stove, turned it on and pulled eggs and bacon from the fridge, plopping them on the counter. "You know," she said, "I think I've lost weight since we started having sex so much. Do I look thinner to you?" "That's a question I've learned not to answer," Wyatt said, making Scarlett laugh. "No, really! I look good, man," she replied, "It's better than going to the gym, honestly. It's like swimming a ton of laps all at once." "You're not just using me to get in better shape, are you? Am I just exercise equipment to you?" Wyatt asked as he stood opposite of her on the island. Scarlett leaned over the island grabbed his face, squeezing his cheeks a little and smiling at him. "Oh, don't pretend you don't love it, my little trophy husband," she said, making him laugh. Wyatt pulled up a chair and sat at the island. The kids were at his mothers for the weekend, and he didn't have many plans. He figured he might go into the store, do some inventory, maybe get lunch and bring it home so he and Scarlett could eat together. He pulled his cell phone out and checked his texts, but didn't see much of anything of interest, until he noticed he had 4 missed calls from Rachel. This caught his interest, because why would Rachel call him that regularly? Something had to be wrong. He sighed and dialed it, then, phone tucked under his chin, he picked up his mug again and opened the sliding glass door that led to the backyard and stepped onto the porch, shutting the door behind him. "Hello?" Rachel answered. "You called me. Actually you called me a handful of times," Wyatt said, taking a sip from his mug, "anything going on?" "Not particularly," Rachel said, "I just was curious what you were up to and if you and Scarlett wanted to join Sun Rai and I for dinner tonight." "Where are you going? Cause I gotta tell ya, I'm not a huge fan of mexican food," Wyatt said. "We don't know yet. We were thinking something a bit more ethnic, or does that make you uncomfortable, being the white honky you are?" Rachel asked, making Wyatt laugh loudly. "No, that...that's fine, just call me back and let me know where and when," he said. After hanging up, he heard the glass door slide open again, and Scarlett handed him a piece of bacon as she took a seat in one of the lounge chairs, soaking up the hot morning sun. She exhaled, relaxing, as Wyatt stood and watched her, munching on his bacon and occasionally sipping his coffee. Nothing could change what he'd been a part of, he knew this, and as such the last 3 months had been relatively odd, considering, but he knew to take his breathers where he could get them and today one of those was right here, watching his wife enjoy the warmth. He wouldn't trade that for anything in the world. *** "God, this story just keeps getting worse everytime, I swear," Calvin's father, Barry, said as he sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper; he rustled it a bit and added, "seems like twice a week they uncover something that just adds to the ridiculousness of it all. I mean, sure, Grudin was a self serving jerk who wasn't interested in helping the community, but that doesn't mean he should've been murdered." Ever since the Grudin incident, his parents had talked about it endlessly, and while they did, Calvin just had to sit there and pretend he didn't know anything. Pretend he didn't have a major hand in the mans demise. He ate his cereal in silence as his mother, Amelia, finished cooking breakfast for herself and Barry and setting the plates down on the table before seating herself and starting to eat. "They robbed that poor little challenged girl of her father," Amelia said, mouthful of eggs, "that, to me, is the worst part of it all." "He was scum," Calvin finally muttered, making his parents look at him and, sadly, remember the accident. Amelia leaned over and patted Calvin on the forearm, nodding. "I know sweetheart, I know, I'm sorry," she said, "but his death isn't bringing them back. If anything, it's only created a void much like you have now, and-" "How? How the hell's it create the same kind of void?" Calvin asked, tossing his spoon down into his bowl and speaking sternly now, feeling annoyed, "she at least still has her daughter. I don't have anything. I'm not going to feel remorse for a man who did horrible things, who lied to the very people he sought election from. Fuck Robert Grudin. I'm glad he's dead." With that, Calvin stood up and exited the room, heading upstairs to his bedroom. Amelia looked at Barry and sighed, shaking her head. "Maybe he should go back to therapy," she said softly. "I don't think that's gonna fix a thing," Barry said, "I mean, he shouldn't keep his emotions bottled up, sure, but I think we're far beyond anything therapy could be beneficial towards. I don't know what could help him, but therapy isn't it. Maybe we should set him up with someone. Maybe if he just met someone new that would do him some good, you know? Get out of the house, get his mind occupied with someone else?" "Perhaps," Amelia said, "...but he loved that woman so deeply, I doubt that-" "He doesn't deserve to live his entire life in pain," Barry said, "nobody does." But Calvin, unbeknownst to his folks, didn't mind living his entire life in pain. Pain he understood. Pain was eternal. If there was anything he'd taken away from the death of his family it was that happiness was fleeting and could be stolen in an instant. That joy was never guaranteed. Sitting on his bed, crying into his hands, Calvin liked the pain. The pain was a companion. That's the thing about loss nobody ever tells you, is that sure it creates a void, but eventually that void becomes your friend. Calvin didn't know what he'd do without that void now, and he didn't wanna try and find out. *** Wyatt discussed with Scarlett about dinner, and she thought it sounded like a lovely idea, so he called Rachel back, and they made a plan to meet at a place downtown called Smokem's, a pretty popular BBQ bar and grill, at about 7 that night. This gave Wyatt plenty of time to get some things done before dinner, along with Scarlett, who wanted to shower and pick out something nice to wear. Wyatt grabbed his keys off the table by the door as Scarlett was grabbing a towel from the nearby linen closet in the downstairs hall, and they looked at one another, smiling momentarily. "Where you going?" Scarlett asked. "I wanna run into the store, get some stuff done quick before we go," he said, "I won't be gone long." "Okay, I'll be here," Scarlett said, heading up the stairs to their bathroom before adding, "you can join me in the shower when you get back." Wyatt blushed and grinned, as he exited the house and headed to his car. He climbed in, started the engine and started to pull out of the driveway. Wyatt hadn't been working much lately, taking advantage of his built up vacation time, simply so he could unwind from what he'd been a part of, so seeing him in the store had actually become somewhat of a rare occurrence. Either way, when he entered, Ben, who was manning the counter training the new girl, briskly walked over to him and handed him a clipboard stacked with papers. "What's all this?" Wyatt asked, licking his thumb and going through them slowly as they headed back to his office. "A lot of it is just acquisition requests, companies asking us what we need and how much, you know, ordering manifests and stuff. There's also some stuff from your dad in there, but I put it at the back, since, ya know, he sucks," Ben said, making Wyatt chuckle. "Thanks," Wyatt replied, unlocking his office door and entering, Ben behind him, before asking while he pulled his jacket off, "so how's the new girl working out? Seems kinda young." "She's a sophomore in high school but she was eager," Ben said, shrugging, "can't deny someone who's willing to put in the time and effort. She just seemed like the best choice for the job." "Fair enough," Wyatt said. Ben nodded, smiled, and headed back to the counter as Wyatt seated himself behind his desk and plopped the clipboard in front of him. He grabbed a pen from the little bowl on his desk and uncapped it, starting to fill things out and put his signature on stuff when the door re-opened, but, instead of Ben, this time Celia entered. Wyatt immediately put the pen down and sat up to attention as she sat down across from him, rubbing her forehead. "You okay? Were you...were you waiting for me to come in?" he asked. "Yes," Celia said, "and everything is...I don't know whether it's okay or not. I mean, nothing immediate is of concern, but I feel...gross. Everyday I feel gross. I've been having nightmares lately, it's been unpleasant." "I'm sorry. For what it's worth you aren't alone. I haven't been sleeping well myself," Wyatt said, picking his pen back up and continuing to sign papers as he continued, "but that's not the same, I guess. I'll take poor sleep over nightmares anytime. Hopefully you haven't been keeping up with the papers and news and such. These articles, man...they're too much to handle." "I'm not an idiot, Wyatt, I know what reading or hearing that stuff would do to me," Celia said, "my conscience is already on the brink of despair. Stupid conscience." "Well," Wyatt said, lowering his voice and looking up from his desk, "he's gone. He's gone and that's all that matters, and they still think Brighton did it. By all accounts, we're in the clear. It's been three months, Celia, I don't think anything is coming back on us. Have you talked to Calvin?" Celia shook her head as she sipped from the water bottle she'd brought in with her. After capping it and setting it back in her lap she sighed. "I haven't. I mean, I talked to him maybe a week after, you know, it happened, but he was....morose isn't the right word, but I'm not sure what it is so morose will have to do," she said, "but it was his idea, honestly. He's the one who wanted Grudin dead." "Maybe he feels guilt. We didn't know he had..." Wyatt said, before stopping himself, "we didn't know he had a family. We didn't know what he'd be leaving behind. Still, doesn't make what he was doing alright." "They're calling Brighton a hero," Celia whispered, and this caught Wyatt's attention. "...pardon? How does supposedly blowing a man up make one a hero?" "You are aware of the military worship in this country, are you not?" "Shut up," he said, chuckling, "who's...who's been saying that?" "Some fringe environmental papers," Celia said, "because of what Grudin was planning to do to the city parks and infrastructure if elected. Either way nobody else is repeating their claims, not yet anyway, but still...it's...alarming, to say the least. He was an innocent, he didn't even know what he'd gotten involved in. That doesn't excuse him killing his family and himself, but still." "Look, much as I love a light hearted discussion," Wyatt said, making Celia smirk, "I have other things to do today and then Scarlett and I are going to dinner. Do you think we could meet sometime this week and talk about this more in depth somewhere else? Or, hell, even here, I don't care." "Definitely," Celia said, standing up and tugging her purse strap over her shoulder. She headed for the door, but once her hand was on the knob she stopped and looked back at Wyatt, asking, "...did we do the right thing?" "What even IS the right thing, Celia?" Wyatt asked, "Morality is subjective. Just ask any differing religions and you'll get a vaguely categorical answer. We did what we thought was right, and it might not actually make it right, but we did it for what we think was the greater good, and our intentions are what was in the right place, whether our actions were or not. When you start to feel guilty or responsible or anything, just remember, this was what Calvin wanted. Grudin killed his wife and daughter in a drunk driving accident, and this was what Calvin wanted. We didn't do this. Calvin did it. Don't forget that." Celia nodded, then opened the door and exited, leaving Wyatt to his tasks. However, he no longer felt the urge to do much, so instead he powered through the paperwork, then told Ben he was leaving again. When he got home, he did indeed join Scarlett in the shower, and that more than made up for his time in the office. *** Smokem's was crowded, but that only further proved the quality of their food to Wyatt. When he and Scarlett entered, they were led to their table, where Rachel and Sun Rai were already seated, eating cornbread and drinking. Or, at least, Rachel was drinking, since Sun Rai was the one who was going to drive home. Wyatt pulled his suit jacket off and placed it on the back of his chair before pulling out Scarlett's chair for her, then seating himself. "Oooh, what a gentleman," Rachel said mockingly, making him laugh. "I can't help it, my momma raised me to be kindly to the ladies," Wyatt said with a fake southern drawl, "how long have you guys been here? Hopefully you haven't been waiting too long." "No, only about fifteen minutes, long enough to get bread," Rachel said. "It took fifteen minutes to get bread? God, I wonder what the actual wait time for your meal proper is," Scarlett said, giving her drink order to a waitress before looking at Sun Rai and asking, "so, what have you been up to? I don't think we've seen you in like a month." "I've been busy," Sun said, "honestly, I thought going back to school would be easy, but boy it's anything but. I'm so tired all the time. I thought once I got out of school I'd never have to wake up that early again." "You wouldn't, if you didn't re-enroll to college like a loser," Wyatt said, making everyone laugh, before his eyes, scanning the restaurant, caught something interesting...Calvin, here with a woman. Wyatt tried to ignore it, but it was so out of place, that he didn't know he could. "But it's going well," Sun Rai said, "It's nice to not be the best simply because I'm Asian and it's expected of me, you know? I don't wanna be the minority poster child. I just wanna be a normal adult woman who happens to be in college again." Calvin, only half listening, nodding as though he were following. He watched Calvin intently, until he noticed he excused himself from the table and headed into the bathroom. Wyatt immediately did the same, and headed for the restroom as well. When he entered, he didn't see Calvin anywhere, so he knelt down and noticed only one pair of shoes in a stall, indicating they were the only two people in the bathroom. Wyatt leaned against the counter and crossed his arms before clearing his throat. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "Jesus!" Calvin shouted from in the stall, "that's terrifying, don't do that!" After a moment the door opened and Calvin came out, zipping up before heading past Wyatt to the sink and washing his hands. "If you must know, my parents stupidly set me up tonight," Calvin said, "and since I can't say no to them, I guess I had no choice but to be here." "She's pretty," Wyatt said, "you getting along?" "Frankly, Wyatt, I'm not particularly interested in dating," Calvin said, "once your spouse dies, believe it or not, it really puts the futility of romance into question. What about you? You just like BBQ or you checking up on me?" "I didn't even know you were here, remember? I'm just double dating with Rachel and her girlfriend," Wyatt said, "...I saw Celia today. She asked about you." "She did?" "Yeah," Wyatt said, "said you weren't doing great the last time you two talked. We're just worried, man. You doing alright?" Calvin leaned against the counter and nodded, before starting to cry, finally letting it release. Wyatt rubbed his back as Calvin sobbed, breathing hard. "I thought killing him would make me feel better," Calvin said, "but it didn't. Nothing's made my life any better just because he doesn't have a life anymore. My wife and daughter are still dead. All we did was hurt someone unintentionally." "Yeah, I...I know," Wyatt said quietly, "I saw his daughter on the news too." "...what do I do, Wyatt?" Calvin asked. "A hobby? Therapy? I don't know, Calvin, but you don't have to go through it alone, alright? We're here for you, we did this together, we're friends," Wyatt said, patting him on the shoulder, "isn't there anything you like to do? Something to take your mind off stuff?" "I used to participate in science contests," Calvin said, wiping his eyes on his sleeve, "I guess...I guess maybe you're right, maybe a hobby is necessary." Calvin turned away from the sink and looked at Wyatt, before suddenly, albeit somewhat reluctantly, hugging him. "Thank you," he whispered. "Hey man, it's no problem," Wyatt said, hugging him back, smiling, "it's the least we can do for one another." *** Leslie Grudin tucked her daughter into bed that night, read her a story and then, once she was asleep, kissed her on the forehead and headed into the living room. She pulled the cordless phone off its base and dialed a number before sitting down on her couch and waiting. After a few rings, someone finally answered. "It's Leslie," she said, "...do we have any information? Anything new?" "I told you I'd call you when I knew anything," the voice replied. "I'm getting anxious," Leslie said, "someone has to have slipped up somewhere." "There's a man in town," the voice said, "flew in the same night your husband died. He just happened to know the man who supposedly blew him up, that Brighton fellow. I'm keeping close tabs on him for the moment, but so far all he's done is come into town and get a teaching position at a local college. Certainly nothing unusual. Like I said, Leslie, when I know anything even remotely concrete, you will too." "...okay," she whispered, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be a bother, I just...I miss him so much." "I know you do, and trust me, we'll find out what really happened," the voice said, "I'm the best in this business." Leslie nodded, thanked them for the reassurance and then hung up the phone. She sucked on her lip for a moment, then she picked the phone back up and dialed another number, but before she could finish calling her mother, she heard her daughter, Michelle, standing in the hallway and crying. Leslie put the phone down and looked at Michelle, standing there hugging her doll tightly. "When is daddy coming home?" she asked weakly, and Leslie's heart broke more. She opened her arms up, and Michelle ran across the house to her mother, climbing up into her lap and crying on her as Leslie stroked her hair. It didn't matter what it took, it didn't matter what would happen if she succeeded, she was going to find out what really happened to her husband, and she was going to make the person responsible pay for it. That much was clear. Come hell or high water.
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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
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