Chapter 21

3:29 p.m. – 9:49 to Termination

Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact. Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth. —Marcus Aurelius

From across the valley, Nick watched them crawl.

He lost count at twenty-four. White cars, black cars, all of them patrol cars from surrounding communities—their lights blinking as they raced north along Highway 91. He saw two ambulances in the snake-like procession. Lights flashing in silence, the distance too great to hear the sirens.

Celeste had parked the car at a trailhead near Newton Dam. The reeds and cattails grew at a sufficient height so their car was invisible from the main road. In the driver’s seat, Celeste stared across the waters of the reservoir.

A single siren wailed from the south. It rose in pitch and volume as it approached. Celeste turned in her seat to look and listen. Nick thought he heard the car slow but couldn’t be certain. A moment later, the siren’s pitch lowered and faded as the cruiser continued north. Celeste returned her gaze to the cobalt water, saying nothing.

Nick swatted at a horsefly. The sun made it too stuffy with the windows up. With them down, a breeze kept them cool, but it meant they had to deal with the insects hovering near the standing water.

Nick waved his hand over Jane, keeping the same fly away from her. When the baby saw the motion, she looked at Nick and smiled, making a bubbling sound with her mouth. She slapped a fist wildly against her leg.

Nick had changed her as soon as they parked. A few minutes later she’d loaded her diaper and Nick changed her again. With a clean and dry bottom, a new onesie, and a full belly, she was content—at least for the moment—to sit and watch the world from her car seat.

Nick asked Celeste for the keys, got out, stood downwind from the car, and lit a cigarette. After the smoke, he got back in the car and searched through his groceries. Passing Celeste a bottle of water, he took a Gatorade for himself, then opened the crackers and cheese and placed them on the armrest. He opened a Moon Pie and wished his warm Gatorade was an icy cold chocolate milk.

They ate and drank and let the silence fill them up.

Nick held a finger toward Jane. Her face grew serious. Studying his hand, her eyes crossed, and her tongue poked out from between two tiny lips. She reached out and grasped his finger.

Nick glanced to the front seat, in the space above Celeste.

ДФД

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ДДД

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ДДД

ДДД

ДДД

ДДД

Less than ten hours now. Still plenty of time, but he needed a new plan.

Tiny gums gnawed at his finger. The breeze felt cool over his stubbled head. The sun warmed his shirt, and his eyes felt heavy.

He let his eyes wander out over the sparkling blue water. Rubbing his chin, he felt momentary surprise when his hand didn’t touch a beard.

Celeste shifted in her seat, turning to face him.

“I want to know why you’re doing this,” she said. “I want to understand.”

Nick wondered at her tone. The harsh edge was gone from her voice. Her anger, dried up. He could almost imagine they were at the football game like they’d planned, and she was asking him about his major at school.

He said nothing at first, trying to understand this young woman in front of him. When the silence lengthened, he replied, “You don’t need to understand.”

And the things he had planned . . . she couldn’t understand.

A mosquito buzzed somewhere nearby. A car passed on the road; its motor barely noticeable.

A plan. He needed a new plan.

Celeste opened her door. Nick tensed and leaned forward. He shifted his hand behind him.

She got in the back seat with him, sitting on the opposite side of Jane. Turning in her seat to face him, she settled her eyes on him.

The way she sat in the seat, hunched forward. The shape and angle of her. It sparked some image buried deep in his mind. He remembered this morning thinking the girl looked familiar, but this memory was deeper than that. He connected her with a sad memory. A dangerous one.

The memory almost flitted to the front of his consciousness, but then it was gone.

He leaned back, his muscles relaxing. He watched her.

She was pretty in many ways.

“I like to people watch,” Celeste finally said. “I do it when I get bored, and I don’t have a book to read.”

Nick said nothing.

“I think everybody has a story, and most of the time you can see that story—at least parts of it—right there in plain sight. In the clothes a person wears. In the lines on their face. The way they talk to their child or a friend or a waitress. You can discern a lot about somebody, just by paying attention.”

Celeste settled back in her seat and leaned her head against the car’s headrest. “A couple weeks ago I was eating by myself at Costa Vida. I was trying to study biology, but I couldn’t focus.” A smile crossed her lips and eyes. Nick remembered that he liked that smile. “Plus, I spilled pico de gallo on my book, so I cut my losses and put the homework away.

“Anyway, a group of seven people walked in. They were all a little older than me—mid-twenties. They wore sturdy hiking boots and rugged clothing. Not trendy—functional. Sturdy. Flannel shirts and thermals under t-shirts. Two of them had neckerchiefs, and they were all very tan. Three of them were women and they looked every bit as tough and taut as the boys. They were covered in dried sweat and dirt, as if they’d spent all day in the hot sun. Honest work. Hard and rewarding.”

Celeste rested her hand on the car seat and brushed Jane’s cheek with two fingers.

“One of the men had a bandana over his hair and his right eye was black and swollen. But when he smiled, his whole face lit up.”

Jane grunted. She waved her hands a few times and looked unhappy. Nick picked up the pacifier sitting in her lap and placed it in her mouth. Jane shook her head back and forth a few times, then rested it against the left side of the car seat. She took the pacifier and sucked at it, staring at Nick with drooping eyes.

“I almost got up and talked to them,” Celeste continued. “I wanted to know what they did. Maybe working on the trails up Logan or Green Canyon. I wanted to find out if they had any openings, or how I could do what they did. There was something about them. They talked and laughed, and it seemed like they were content—really content—black eye and all.

“But it was more than that. More than just looking content.” Celeste hesitated. She looked briefly at Nick. Her eyes fluttered away, and then back, steadying. “All of them looked real.”

Nick tried to keep the look of interest off his face. That word, real. Had she picked that word carefully? Because if she had . . .

The two of them said nothing for a time, each returning the other’s gaze.

Celeste continued. “I know that doesn’t make sense, but in my head it does. Some people are like puddles. You can take them in all at once. You comprehend them. I’m not saying you really know everything about them, but that’s how it feels. There’s not a lot of substance.

“Other people, though, are like a sea or an ocean. You can spend your whole life with that person, exploring their every corner, and never really understand the depth.

“When you came into the store this morning, Nick, I couldn’t read you. At all. I still can’t.”

Nick looked away. Her words rang true to him. She’d shared something private. Given him a piece of herself. Perhaps something she hadn’t shared with anyone else.

“Tell me what’s going on, Nick. I want to understand.”

The parade of patrol cars was no longer in view. The day was as calm and still as any other. Between them, Jane slept.

Since Little Cowboy, all he’d ever tried to do was the right thing, but no one else saw it. His mother. The police. Even the people he’d saved. Nick had saved Little Cowboy, and his father had thanked him by breaking his nose.

In his mind, he was an angel, and yet what did the world choose to see?

Jane stirred. The afternoon sun had moved until it shone into her eyes. Nick held up his hand, casting a shadow over her face.

Celeste nodded at the baby. “She’s beautiful. Is she yours?”

Nick didn’t answer.

“I know that sometimes divorce or separation can be rough. Especially when there are kids involved. I have a friend—”

“She’s not mine.” He kept his voice flat. “I’ve never seen this baby before today.”

Celeste’s eyes narrowed, just a fraction. He could see a whole new series of questions spring up and multiply in her mind.

Nick knuckled his forehead. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed at home, pull up the covers, and watch the hands on his clock spin and spin until they reached 1:18.

He’d never told another soul. But here they sat, the two of them at the beginning of the end of the world.

Celeste reached out, hesitated, then touched his forearm. Nick fought the urge to grab her hand. Hold on as if his life depended on it.

 “I’m just some random girl,” Celeste said. “Maybe you can’t tell your family or your friends. So, tell me. You don’t care what I think. And I won’t tell anyone, Nick. I promise.”

He felt a hunger awaken inside him. A hunger to unload the burden. To share it with another person and let them help him shoulder it.

Nick looked at Celeste who stared back. The pink timer above her head floated and dipped with every movement of her head. Nine hours.

That was time enough.

Would saying the words make him sound mad?

“You want to know?”

“Yes. I do.”

He would speak the words; not to satisfy her curiosity, but his own.

 “I will tell you. But first, I have to show you something.”