The End Came With a Kiss (15 page)

She is already pulling our dart guns from her backpack. I reach out and grab mine by the handle.

"Are you ready for this?" I say, checking to make sure the first dart is chambered.

"It’s like shooting squirrel in the backyard," she says.

James’ eyes bound to each of us. "What are you doing with those?"

"We’re going to get my wife," I say, with a sigh.

"Wait. She’s dead?"

"Yes."

"I thought she was…"

"I know. I should have clarified."

"What are you going to do, put her back here with us?"

"It’s okay. She’ll be asleep the whole time," I say, moving to the back of the truck.

I can tell he has more questions, but he holds his tongue.

"Don’t worry," says Ashlyn. "You’ll be safe."

James draws in a deep breath and nods.

"Okay," I say, turning toward Harry, who is now filling the entryway to the cab. "You guys stay in the truck. We’ll be back in a minute. If you see anything crazy, beep the horn."

Harry shakes his big head. "Beep the horn. Can do, boss."

I pull the handle up and climb out the back. "Oh," I say turning around, "if you..." I flinch and throw my arm up as a looper drops off the top of the truck. He hits me square in the chest and I fall backward on the ground. Like lightning, he whips around and snatches Ashlyn by the arm, pulling her out of the truck with a flip. Her dart gun goes flying and she lands on her back. The looper collapses on her and starts digging and scratching.

I shove my hand out, dart gun aimed at his back. THOOMP! The dart lodges in his waist, but he continues to claw as Ashlyn kicks and screams. Out of panic I let another dart fly. THOOMP! The dart hits him in the shoulder, but it isn’t enough to stop him.

James comes flying out of the back of the truck. He lands on top of the looper, gripping him around the midsection, and goes into a roll. The two roll a few feet and James comes up on top.

The looper is swinging and clutching, but his arms look like noodles and his fingers are unable to grasp James by the shirt. His limbs quickly run out of steam and fall to his chest. James pushes himself off, breathing hard, on all fours. "Ashlyn! Are you okay?" he says.

She scrambles to her feet, checking for damage. "Yeah. I’m fine. Are you?"

"Yeah," says James.

Ashlyn rotates her head and zips her coat up tight around her neck. "That was creepy."

"How did that thing stay on the truck for twenty miles without us knowing it?"

"He must have been too busy hanging on for dear life to make any noise."

Harry climbs down from the back of the truck. "Should I go beep the horn? Because THAT was crazy."

We all let out a laugh of relief. It was pretty crazy.

I reach out and help James to his feet as my eyes scan the neighborhood to see if this looper’s screaming has riled anyone else up. The street is quiet—actually quieter than normal. Why is that? Probably because my neighbor Harold is almost always doing something in his yard. But not today. I wonder where he is.

Ashlyn's voice draws me back. "This thing got pretty banged up."

I turn to her with a question on my face. She is holding the dart gun and feeling the top where the firing pin is.

"You think it will still fire?"

She shrugs. "I guess we'll find out."

Harry towers over the looper. "What do we do with this one?"

"Do we have anything to tie him up?" asks James, brushing himself off.

"You can't tie him up," says Ashlyn. "He won't be able to loop."

James looks down at the man, laying in a lump. "What do you mean? Is that bad?"

"If they can't loop they go crazy, and they don't come back from that."

"I'm confused. Isn't that a good thing? I mean, if they don't come back, they can't hunt and kill us." His tone is not combative. It is simply inquisitive.

Ashlyn responds well to it. "Ben's friend is one of the scientists who started all this and he is working on a cure."

James and Harry throw me looks of amazement.

"If they find a cure, then we can save people, even this guy. But we can't save him if his brain is broken."

"Oh," says James with understanding, "That's why you were so angry about that guy in the office. You guys are working on a cure and you were worried about not being able save him."

"Yeah," she says, somberly.

"Okay. So, what do we do with him?" His eyes lift and lock on mine. "We could drive him to the main road and leave him there. I doubt he'll find his way back over here."

I look at Ashlyn. "What do you think?"

"What about those pills you have? You could give him one of those."

"I could, but we're still not sure if they work on loopers."

She stares long and hard at the man on the ground. "Okay. We'll bring him back to the road. But I want to go."

"I'll go with you," says James.

"All right," I say to Ashlyn. "Then give your dart gun to Harry. We'll go inside and get my wife while you drop this guy off."

Ashlyn hands the pistol off and she and James start to grab the body. Harry climbs back inside and picks up the little girl who is still sitting on the seat where she and James had been. Her eyes watch the floor dimly.

Harry lifts her into his arms and brings her out of the truck as Ashlyn and James throw the body inside.

"What if he wakes up?" I say, imagining the two of them stuck in the metal truck with this guy going crazy.

"He's drugged," says Ashlyn, laying the man’s feet down gently. If he starts to wake, we'll dump him earlier."

James climbs up over the man whose body is now laying lengthwise just inside the entrance.

Ashlyn slams one door and climbs up with the handle of the other door in her hand. "We won't be long." She backs in and slams the other door shut, sealing her and James inside with the sleeping zombie.

15

I motion for Harry to stay at the front door with the little girl as I look up the stairs and then into the living room. Normally, around noon, Katherine can be found at her desk in the study, working on her computer, even though it hasn’t had power for some time.

In my mind’s eye I can see her clearly, staring at the screen, clicking the mouse, and making clickety sounds on the keyboard every so often. I have spent countless hours watching her, wondering what tasks she thinks she is accomplishing—if any at all.

I creep past the living room and turn right, down the hallway to the study. The door is open. From here I can see Katherine’s desk, but she is not at it. Even though I expect this, my heart still sinks. I peek in and check the rest of the room. It is also empty.

Maybe she’s upstairs. She frequents Ella’s room most of the day. Unlike me, she can pretend that Ella is there with her. I think it’s because her mind knows that our daughter is gone, and she is able to accept an illusion as replacement. I, on the other hand, am required to be present, because she knows I am alive and I am a vital part of her loop. If she is not in Ella’s room there a few more places I know to look for her.

Harry gives me an expectant look as I pass him. I shake my head, and his shoulders drop. I climb the stairs and look into Ella’s room. It, also, is empty, but everything is in its place.

I check the other rooms on the second floor and go back downstairs. Harry has taken the little girl into the living room.

"No sign of her, huh," says Harry with a concerned face.

"Not yet," I say, passing through into the kitchen.

I check the cellar, the laundry room and the back porch. Everything is where it belongs, but Katherine is nowhere to be found.

How strange
. The house is usually a wreck when I break her loop. Why is it clean? Did she not make it back to the house that first day?

I return to the living room. Harry has taken a seat on the arm of the couch. The little girl is standing in front of the mantle to the fireplace with a picture frame in her hands. I come in behind her and look. It is a family photo of me, Katherine and Ella in the backyard. The little girl’s thumb rubs up and down on the glass.

"That’s my family," I say gently.

She continues to stare at it.

"Do you have a family?" I say, crouching next to her.

There is no response, as usual.

"Do you miss your family?" I say, with a tilt of my head. "Because I can understand that. I miss my family too. My wife is gone and I can’t find her. That’s who we’re looking for." I point to the photo. "And that is my daughter Ella. We lost her, and I miss her very much."

Her head bobs up and her eyes lock into mine. There is an intensity in her countenance as though she wants to tell me something.

"What is it, honey? You can tell me."

Her eyes and cheeks tighten, but that is all. Whatever she wants to say is buried under too much hurt and horror to get out.

"It’s okay, honey. You can tell me when you’re ready."

She looks down at the photo again.

I wonder what she wants to say. Does the picture remind her of her own family? Does seeing it spark memories buried deep inside her subconscious mind? I study her countenance. I’ll have to wait for the answers. She is clearly not ready to leave the safety of her numbed prison.

My eyes flick up to Harry. "I need to check a house up the street. She went there once when her loop was broken." Even as I say this I realize it is a waste of time. If Katherine had come home, she would have ripped the house apart. She must be stuck at the distribution point.

I reach out and grip the frame. "I’m going to put this back, okay, honey? We need to go find the lady in the picture."

The little girl grips the frame, her eyes shoot up at me again.

"You want to keep it?" I ask. "That’s okay. You can keep it."

Harry comes over and scoops her up into his strong arms. "You go ahead and look for your wife. She’ll be safe here with me."

The little girl cuddles into Harry’s chest and pulls her black bear in tight as she continues to study the photo in silence.

A thump from the back porch causes Harry to freeze. Is it Katherine? I don’t dare to lift my hopes, but I do lift the dart gun halfway, just in case it is someone else.

In the window above the kitchen sink I see shadows moving, but I can’t see who it is. Slowly I advance to the threshold of the kitchen. There is a rattling in the knob of the back door, and the door swings open.

I feel my chest quiver with emotion and I fight to keep my composure as relief washes over me like a wave from the ocean. Standing in the doorway is my beautiful Katherine. She’s alive. Thank God she’s alive.

16

Katherine carries a box to the island in the center of the kitchen and plops it down, oblivious to our presence. Did she create a new loop, or is this part of her original loop? I don’t remember her ever going into the back yard.

I walk forward cautiously, not knowing how she will react to me now that I am no longer a part of her loop. She sees me and comes to a stop. The light flutter of breath emitting from her lips tells me she is trying to determine if she has a process for this. Will she react to me like a guest? Will she offer me tea or coffee, like the one time when I brought Jared over? Or will she recognize me as her husband and come unglued as her mind tries to figure out how to piece me back into my place. Loopers do not like change—even positive change.

As I look at her, a lucid memory envelops me. Katherine is standing in the same spot with a similar box. She has been in the garage sorting through storage, looking for things we can bring to Goodwill. Is that what she’s doing? When I didn’t show up, did she slip into cleaning mode? That’s her thing, anytime something stressful happens: the death of her father; when her friend moved away; when we waited for the appointment to have Ella’s appendix removed. She always goes into spring cleaning mode. It’s her coping mechanism.

I peek over the lip of the box. In it there are items from the garage. Mostly my things. No. All of them are my things. Is she spring cleaning me out of her life? Where is she putting all this stuff?

Her breathing is getting louder and I can hear the growl beginning to vibrate in her chest and throat. She is building up to an episode, but I don’t want anyone to see her like that. I lift the dart gun and aim mid mass. If the dart goes into her chest, hopefully it will work faster.

THOOMP.

The dart makes contact and her eyes grow wide. Is she going to lunge at me? I take a step back and prepare to fire a second dart if needed. She claws at her chest and the growl erupts out of her mouth like a wild beast. I let another dart fly, but her flailing movements cause the dart to miss its mark.

"Harry," I say loud and even. "I’m out of darts."

Katherine swipes the box off the kitchen island and leaps toward me with her teeth bared. She does not reach me though. Harry’s large hands intercept her in the air, like a linebacker shutting down a runner. Katherine flies backward onto the island and slides, legs up, to the other side and vanishes behind. Harry sidesteps around to the right and aims his dart gun down at where her sprawling body should be, but there is no sound. He lifts the gun up, smacks it with his other hand, and tries again. Still nothing.