Arkadium Rising (12 page)

"Remember," Kylie cut in, "your car? Your cell phone?"

"So you mean…?" The seriousness of the situation seemed to hit Dawn all at once. Her eyes widened and she blinked several times. She sat down heavily on the bottom stair.

"How do you know it's that bad?" Monique asked. "It can't be. It just can't. I don't believe you."

"Mrs. Thompson—" Kylie started, but the glare leveled at her made her reconsider her words. "
Monique
… have you ever known RJ to just make something up? Especially something that is based in science? What about you, Dawn?"

Monique's eyes welled with tears. She clasped her hands together and then clutched them to her chest. "My baby… Reggie. I have to talk to him. I have to hear his voice…" She looked lost, terrified. She went to the window next to the front door and checked the driveway as if hoping she would see her husband pulling up in his Yukon to clear up all this nonsense.

"This can't be happening!" Dawn said, her voice nearing hysterics. She stood up and then stomped up the carpeted stairs. There was no gushing air conditioner to mute the anger in her strides.

"What are we going to do?" Monique hugged her arms across her chest and stepped away from the window. Her legs wobbled beneath her for a moment. RJ was able to reach her side and brace his arm across her back so she wouldn't tumble to the floor.

"Whoa… take it easy, Monique. Just breathe easy."

"Sorry. I'm okay. Just so thirsty."

"Let's get her to a sofa." Kylie went to Monique's other side and latched her arm parallel with RJ's. Together, they guided Monique to the living room just off the front foyer and eased her down on a new leather sofa the color of sweet butter.

"I just need a minute…" Monique said, her voice woozy, distant. She leaned over with her elbows on her knees and rested her face against her open palms.

"I better get something for her to drink. I'm sure she's dehydrated from walking in this heat."

"Good idea." Kylie smiled, trying to ignore the rising fear tightening her sternum. RJ headed for the kitchen and Kylie sat down next to Monique. She lifted her hand and hesitated before touching Monique's back. The fabric of her shirt was sweat-soaked, and her breaths were shallow and rapid against Kylie's palm. She circled her hand between her shoulder blades, as she often would whenever Libby Underwood had taken sick or woken from a nightmare. Monique exhaled slowly, and when she inhaled again, her breath was steadier.

"Thanks, hon. I don't know what came over me."

"This heat is brutal." Kylie recalled her own walk in from town after babysitting Libby this morning. The heat was brutal, no doubt, but she figured that the weather was the least of Monique's problems. "But it's not like you were planning to go for a hike. Not in those shoes, anyway."

Monique lifted her head and smiled from one corner of her mouth.

Kylie had rarely spoken with Monique since she married Reggie. In all honesty, her beauty and confidence had always intimidated Kylie. But seeing her like this—vulnerable, scared, and now so obviously not much older than her—it all made Kylie realize she would rather be here than sharing the limited confines of her trailer with her mom.

Monique ran her fingers through her lank, sweaty hair and again rested her face against her palms. Kylie stood from the couch and went over to the fireplace mantel. The room looked so different than during Reggie's bachelor days. Long gone were the masculine rust-colored walls, the black leather couches, the African tribal masks, the photograph print of Miles Davis playing in a smoky New Orleans bar. Now everything on display had Monique's eclectic touch. The walls were covered in modern art prints with splotches of paint and mixed media so perplexing that Kylie couldn't tell which side was up, or if it really mattered. A narrow yet tall metal table was the lone piece of furniture near the broad bay window. On top of it sat an opalescent white vase shaped like a flowing teardrop. She wondered if there were some deeper meaning to the piece. She wanted to ask about it, but didn't want to sound stupid.

"I see the way you look at him."

Kylie didn't move, feeling like she had a gun pressed against her spine. Her gaze fell to the mantel and the family portrait of the Thompsons' first Christmas together. All four members of the reconstituted family wore ugly,
ugly
sweaters and the widest possible smiles. She traced the edge of the frame with her finger.

Did everyone but RJ know I like him? Was it that obvious?

She glanced over her shoulder, and for some reason, Monique looked apologetic.

"You think he's strong." Monique's pencil-thin eyebrows pulled into a taut line. "Sure, he is physically. But he's not
strong
. Not like Reggie. No… not like my Reggie."

Kylie crossed her arms. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

The tension between them was broken by the sound of someone tapping on the sliding glass door in the kitchen. The door slid open on its track and Kylie could hear a muffled conversation.

A few seconds later RJ entered the living room, carrying a tray burdened with tall glasses of iced lemonade. "We have guests…" He handed Monique one of the glasses. When he held the tray out to Kylie he whispered, "
Sorry
."

She looked behind him and saw her parents. Her dad had changed into a pair of jeans and the black, holey Rolling Stones t-shirt he wore when working on his GTO. He had a satchel slung over one shoulder. Her mom stood off to the side, in his shadow, and wouldn't look Kylie in the eye.

"Is everyone okay here?" her dad asked.

It was disorienting seeing both her parents inside the Thompsons' house. Kylie would often cross paths with her mother while she worked, and would sometimes see her father when he would take in a college football game with Reggie in the Thompsons' media room. But together? Never.

Her dad saw something in Kylie's expression and came to her and pulled her into a hug. "You okay, Kye?"

She nodded against his chest.

"We're all fine, Mitch," Monique said.

"Good." He released Kylie from his embrace. "So, is it true? Did a plane really go down in the woods?

"It was a passenger jet," RJ said. "The EMP took it down. It crashed northeast of here."

"Yeah, that's what Linda told me."

"Did she tell you she thinks it's my fault?" Kylie said and immediately regretted it.

Mitch Dwyer gave his wife an unsurprised look of disapproval. He shook his head and then asked RJ, "So, that EMP, it took out all the power, right?"

"In theory."

"I think I saw that in a movie once. And so there's no power, and we have no way of knowing what caused it or what's going on in the rest of the world."

"Pretty much."

Kylie's dad nodded. "Okay, since everyone's safe, I'm going to want you all to stay together and keep it that way." He took one of the glasses of lemonade from RJ's tray, drained it in a few seconds and then handed it back.

"Dad, what are you doing?"

He didn't seem to hear her. He headed for the front door and flipped the light switches, just in case, and sighed.

"Listen, Kye, I can't just sit and do nothing if there's a chance anyone survived the crash."

"Dad, you might be a voluntary fireman, but there are no ambulances. No fire trucks. No equipment."

"If anyone needs help, I might be their only chance." He lifted the satchel from his shoulder. "I'm bringing along some first aid supplies, in case I can help anyone."

"But, Dad—"

"Kye… If I don't at least check it out, I couldn't live with myself. Believe me, I don't want to go. I
have
to go."

Kylie knew she couldn't change his mind once it was set. "Okay, but I'm coming with you."

"I need you here," he said in a hushed voice and glanced over to Linda. She still stood at the entryway to the living room, staring at the floor. "To keep an eye on her."

"Dad…"

"Kye, I'm worried about her. She needs one of us with her. I'll only be gone a couple hours. Promise."

She stood with her arms crossed, not wanting to let it go. She let out a deep breath. "Fine. Just don't do anything stupid," she said and he smiled at her scolding. "And I'll 'look after her' but that doesn't mean I have to talk to her."

"You two… What am I going to do with you?" He chuckled and then turned to RJ. "Junior? I'm not going to be gone long, but I need to ask you a favor."

"Sure, anything."

"Keep an eye on my family. They're all I have… all that matters." A glint came to his eye, a reflection of the turmoil he felt about leaving them.

Feeling teary-eyed herself, Kylie had to look away. She noticed her mom slowly move her way over to a luxurious recliner across from Monique and sit uncomfortably on the edge of it.

"Yes, sir," RJ said. "Like they're my own."

Her dad extended his hand and RJ shook it.

"Don't go anywhere," he said, addressing them all. "Just stay inside. Eat all the ice cream before it turns to soup."

He opened the door and before he stepped out, Kylie said, "Dad…" She wanted to tell him that she loved him, but her voice caught in her throat.

"Don't worry, Kye. It's just a little hike."

Kylie had no way of knowing how much time had passed, but dusk was gaining strength, extending its inky touch through the darkening boughs, the leaf flooded canopies. Two hours, and certainly more, had come and gone without any sign of her dad's return. She stood in the doorway leading from the kitchen to the living room, staring at the front door. The uncirculated air felt stifling against her skin as dread built inside her like a clenched fist. She willed the door to open. She listened for footsteps, a shifting shadow through the front window. Anything.

She hadn't seen or heard Dawn since she ran upstairs in her fit of despair. She almost envied her. All Kylie wanted to do was lie in her bed, pull the sheet up over her head, and forget about everything since she stepped from the woods and into the Thompsons' backyard. Monique probably had the right idea. She sat on the plush sofa and swirled a half empty wine glass just inches from her eyes as if mesmerized. The empty bottle had tipped over at her feet, forgotten.

"I thought it would be easy." Monique was starting to slur slightly.

"Excuse me?"

"Being married, silly. Imagine, all the money in the world… buying anything you ever dreamed about. Cars, clothes, shit… even artwork I can't even wrap my mind around."

"Is it really so bad?"

Monique laughed and finished her wine. "I didn't say bad. Just… not easy. You see, it's pretty much a given. A cliché. That's the word, right? When you marry a rich-assed man that's gone half the year, he's going to do whatever…
whoever
he wants. That's what it means, right? A cliché? When I have to get myself tested for STDs because of a broken condom and a dog-faced groupie in Atlanta?"

RJ was on the back patio, grilling burgers for dinner. Kylie wanted him to be here with her, but she was glad he couldn't hear any of this.

"But revenge… well, it's not always easy, but it's how you show who's in charge. That's what my momma always used to say. He thinks he can dip his wick in any old road cooch? Fine. But you know what? That baby he put in me with his filthy fucking cock? He put it in me, but I took it out! Yes, I did. And even sent him pictures from the clinic."

Kylie gasped.

"Oh… I texted him pics of me in the stirrups, the pink gown they had me wear riding up at the knees. Nothing graphic."

"How could you?"

"I'm young. There's plenty of time for kids, and there's no way I'm getting knocked up when he's on the road six months of the year. Reggie loves me, and I love him. He thought he controlled things with his money and fame and bullshit. Well, no, the struggle is real."

"What struggle?" Kylie scoffed.

"Life, little girl. Life is the struggle, and knowing how to control things? That's half the battle." Monique lifted her wine glass and realized it was empty. "Be a lamb and grab me another Merlot from the wine rack, would you? It's going to be a long night."

Kylie went to the kitchen if for no other reason than to put some space between her and Monique. She shifted the bottles in the wine rack next to the pantry until she found a Merlot. She removed the foil wrapper around the neck, and then glanced around the kitchen until she spotted a cork screw on the center island.

As she figured out how to work the contraption, she saw RJ working the grill on the patio. Gray smoke wafted from the coals as he flipped a number of burgers, one after another. She wondered if he knew anything about what Monique had so casually talked about. In some way, she hoped he didn't.

As if sensing he was being watched, RJ looked up and smiled as he wielded the long barbeque spatula like a light saber. She laughed lightly and waved him away. He held up his left hand and mouthed the words:
five more minutes
. She nodded and he turned back to the grill.

Her mom entered the kitchen on her hands and knees, dusting the floor molding with a rag. Shortly after Kylie's dad left to investigate the plane crash, her mom had resumed her duties cleaning the house. She couldn't vacuum or run the dishwasher, but she could scrub, and she did until she was a frenetic cleaning machine going from room to room, dragging her cleaning caddy behind her.

"You don't have to do that," Kylie said.

"Yes, I do. I'm out of cigarettes and I have to keep my hands busy." Kylie's mom looked up from her drudgery and saw the opened bottle of wine in her grasp. She clucked her tongue in disapproval and then set back to work, shining the molding to a high gloss.

Kylie was tempted to grab a glass of wine for herself just to needle her mom. She imagined getting loaded, just like Monique, and letting her bitterness flow freely. She could, but she knew she wouldn't; she wasn't a vindictive person. And she had never had alcohol and didn't know how it would impact her. She couldn't let her guard down, not with her dad still out in the middle of the woods.