V. H. King's Ink

The night sky was ablaze but this went unnoticed by the couple kissing in the back of the car.  The car being Lucy, Bridgett’s bright orange beetle.  The couple being her and Caleb.  Had they always been a couple?  Maybe.  But not like this, and that made this kiss deliciously ultra-real. 

Not to mention the sirens blaring all around them. 

When they had descended for the landing, there had been a white streak blazing through the night.  Spotlights swirling through the sky, sometimes blinding her as they reflected off the double-paned glass.  Caleb had asked her what had happened, and she hadn’t been able to say. 

“I think there’s a lot of smoke, but it could just be—”

“May I have your attention, this is your captain speaking.  We have just received word that there was a gas leak in the Hunterville Area.  Several explosions were triggered by the leak, and everyone is advised to avoid the area.  Residents are being evacuated to safety.”

“Gas leak?”

Bridgett turned to Caleb, whose face was pensive.  Caleb peered over her shoulder, nudging the window shade up again.

“That’s not a gas leak,” Caleb said so only she could hear.  “it’s something a lot worse.”

“We won’t be able to go home.”

“We can try, okay?”

Bridgett had squeezed Caleb’s hand and leaned into his chest.  Caleb’s heartbeat was slow and steady.  Bridgett’s own felt like a hummingbird, fluttering so fast she couldn’t catch her breath.  She did her best to match her breathing to Caleb’s.  Except when she slowed down her thoughts that much, the fear came through.  Tears leaked out of her closed lids as Caleb gently rubbed her back, holding her close as they landed on the air strip.

From the ground, everything was worse.  The sky was too bright for it to be the middle of the night.  A sickly yellow-orange, like a sun that wasn’t ripe yet—or a light that had gone rotten.  Bridgett composed herself as they gathered their carry-on things, taking more deep breaths and telling herself that Caleb was with her.  He wouldn’t keep bad things from happening, but she could get through them if he was with her.  And he was.  They were an us now. 

Waiting for the luggage carousel spiked her anxiety again, with all the news stations turned on and people scrolling their phones.  But they’d each gotten their suitcase, and then it was just a matter of making it to the parking garage.

The air tasted bitter.  Bridgett bit back the bile that tried to rise from her gut.

A gas leak in the Hunterville area…several explosions…

What did that mean?  Hunterville itself?  A nearby neighborhood?  Did that mean her apartment building was off limits?  Was it demolished?  And what about Caleb’s place?  Had it exploded too?

“If we have nothing to go back to, maybe that’s okay.”

Caleb hefted the suitcases into the hatch.  Good thing they could pack light, because there wasn’t a ton of trunk space. 

“What did you mean when you said it was worse?”

“Nothing good.”

“Except we’re not supposed to go home again, right?”

Caleb wrapped his arms around her shoulders and squeezed her tight.  A lot of times, it was Bridgett clinging to him.  But this time, it felt like they were both holding on to each other. 

“I’m scared, Libby.”

“I know, Birdy.  I am too.”

Somehow they had managed to get within three blocks of her apartment.  Bishop’s was busier than she had ever seen it, serving meals to crowds of people.  Bridgett parked in an alley and went for milkshakes, plus a funnel cake.  It would be a hell of a sugar rush, but she needed something sweet. The smoke burned her eyes, her nose, her throat.  She could feel the air licking its rough tongue against her skin, and when she reached for napkins, her fingers were spotted with soot. 

They had eaten in silence, watching through the windshield. 

Firetrucks. 

Police cars. 

Caution tape.

Blacked out SUVs. 

And, most terrifying of all, a tank.  An actual tank, rolling down the street where she and Caleb had walked on spring afternoons, enjoying sun in the park and getting caught in the rain on their way home.  Trading daydreams and telling stories and wondering at life’s curiosities. 

As her eyes adjusted to the flicker and flare of shadows and searing light, she noticed that those weren’t police uniforms that people were wearing.  Those were military uniforms. 

“You’re right,” she whispered around her straw.  “It’s so much worse.  It’s like a war-zone.”

“Not just like one,” Caleb said. 

“You mean—”

“I don’t know anything.  But this wasn’t just an accident.”

“If we can’t stay here, can we go anywhere?”

Caleb looked at her through the gloom.  Bridgett felt her stomach dip, the same way Caleb had swept her near to the floor when they were dancing on the hotel’s patio by the beach.  Caleb had a tummy now, and not just because of the all-you-could-eat breakfast buffet. 

“Can’t we?”

Bridgett’s head tilted as she asked herself this.  Caleb’s thumb stroked the back of her hand, and her other palm rested on Caleb’s stomach.  And then they had kissed, and she had cried a little, but when they finally pulled apart again, she felt at peace. 

“Forget the script,” she murmured to herself. 

“But that was—”

“No, forget it.  A gas leak or not, what’s done is done.  We have the rest of our lives in front of us.  And maybe there’s nothing more important to hold on to than each other.”

“It feels like the end of the world.”

“Just one.”  Bridgett smiled, her eyes dancing as she leaned her head back.  “We have ten days of clothes to our names.  What do you want to do?”

“We’ve never had war in this country except for what we made for ourselves.”  Caleb looked out the windshield again, watching commanders and colonels and direct soldiers here and there.  “Isn’t that strange?”

“Ten days of clothes and six months to build a stable life again.”

“Stable is overrated.”

Bridgett blinked, then burst out laughing.  Caleb smiled, which meant his eyebrows rose and his mouth didn’t move.  He pulled her close to kiss her neck.  Caleb had always been her rock and she had always been the wind.  Had their roles reversed, or had they simply gone through some sort of growth spurt? 

“I don’t know if I believe in stability anymore, and not just because of this,” Caleb said, gesturing out the window.  “I don’t know if there’s room for it in this world.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Bridgett said, sighing against Caleb’s chest.  “Maybe it keeps us growing.”

“Is that what we’ll do?” he asked.  “Keep going?”

Bridgette gathered the trash from their snack.  As she walked to a nearby dumpster, her stomach felt full and her heart?  Well, her heart felt free.  She threw away their containers and got back in the driver’s seat. 

“Let’s drive.”

“Okay.”

“Drive until we find a town that looks interesting.”

“Stay a while?”

“Until it’s time to move on again.”  Bridgett turned the key over.  “Plans just don’t work the way people expect them to.”

“West?” Caleb suggested.

“South.  I don’t want to spend all my life chasing daylight.”

“Long days.  Sleepy nights.”

Bridgett nodded.

“Hard work is easy to find.  We’ll get by.”

“Small towns where we remember the earth is alive.”  Caleb touched her wrist as she backed out of the alley.  “What about the script?”

“Stories have to live and breathe,” Bridgett said.  “The screen isn’t reality.”

“Maybe not, but it helps us see in a new way.”

“And so does a demolished city block.”  Bridgett crept through the news vans, headed for the highway.  “We’ll see what happens, okay?”

“I’ve always been careful.”

A confession.

“You still can be.  You always are, in the ways that matter most—at least to me.”