It was Zephyr Rose’s idea to hold the meeting. She had first proposed the thought to her brother Zeke, older by ten months to the day. People often fancied them twins and in their hearts they feel as close as two people born within the same year, living within the same house, could. Zeke very much had a dominant spirit, a real man’s man, but learned very early on that Zephyr was the true heir. If her second chromosome hadn’t have had an extra tick on the back, he knew this town would’ve, somehow, forgiven the fact that she was born second and would’ve been the one they all cower to instead of him.
When he was younger, he had thoughts about ways to dim her light in order for his to shine. Though these thoughts were always fleeting and always during a time when she managed to heat his skin. But his actions never once represented his evanescent emotions. Zeke treated Zephyr like a brother, the greatest honor he could ever bestow upon her in their family. Believing it was better to have her as friend than an enemy, but knowing it would take another man’s bleeding heart pumping in his chest in order for him to harm a hair on her head.
Zephyr knew how hard it was for him to be the son of a Marshall in this town and be eclipsed by a younger sibling. Especially when that younger sibling had boobs. So, Zephyr, too, gave a few gifts of her own to Zeke. She made nice with his dimwitted friends, kept her opinions to herself in front of company, gave her suggestions to be used as his own. Though none of these things were sacrifices to her, Zephyr cared more about her makeup than her ideas. And she knew Zeke would give her credit for her successes, a seat at the table of negotiations, would even dethrone himself and crown her queen all with the bat of an eye. Like she also understood that no matter how fast she found herself coming into possession of all of these useless things, that he would, somehow, be lost without them. The frivolity of power.
It was their grandfather who built the quaint little church that would be used as their meeting space that had been situated upon a small piece of land he bought for himself before the secession. It had a small, gable roof he nailed a wooden cross to, supported by two thin columns, that framed the entry to the porch way. This sat before a much large gable roof that was supported by the church itself. It was no bigger than the size of a barn that he painted white and trimmed in baby blue. It had three small steps that led you through the white columns of the entrance towards two thin, blue, double doors embedded just under a circular window.
Once inside, it was walled about halfway through, just up until the nine, large, stained-glass windows were visible, three on both sides that stretched vertically from near top to bottom which were inlayed with 18-inch gaps in between. The remaining three, also separated by 18-inch gaps, were located in the back of the church, though were positioned horizontally one above the next. The church, which had a small kitchen in the back and a bathroom towards the front, was being used by their grandfather as his home, during that era before the divisions, while he saved up enough money to build the real thing.
A hundred and some odd years later, it was still standing though it had no problems revealing to any whom saw it most of its age. Though the church was nearly abandoned, Zephyr, who fancied herself a designer, had made plans for this special occasion and wouldn’t let its wear deter her from creating the perfect space for this gathering. She stocked the bathroom with fresh towels, toilet paper and a lit, scented candle that wafted throughout the small church unevenly. She requisitioned a long, antique, walnut-stained table that could seat three on both sides and one on the ends that she placed in the middle of the open room. She reupholstered the eight matching chairs in separate yet consistent masculine prints. She set the table with her mother’s best china and placed upon each plate a small, folded, black card with blue, metallic, calligraphied ink; one for each of their names. And to the right, matching paper napkins folded in such a way it housed the steak knife, fork and rolled herb cigarette for after.
She used four empty beer bottles filled with local flowers and aromatic herbs as accents, one on each side of the main plate filled with 13 thick cut T-bone steaks cooked to each guest’s specificity in the center of the table. Another in between the platter of eggs and bowl of maple sausage hash located to the left of the steaks and the last in between a plate of an assortment of buttered breads and the bowl of fruit located to the right. Any leftover dead space within the center was filled with various condiments, including brown and white gravies, compound butters, ketchups and an assortment of sauces--hot, steak, hollandaise, and the like, each in a small, white, ceramic boat.
Although it was nearly eight a.m., she took the time to do herself up with an outfit that was all of 1940s high fashion, including a victory roll hairstyle and low kitten heel. Zephyr was 5’8 and didn’t like to add inches to what she felt was an already towering frame. She looked like a star of film upon a dingy movie set. Zephyr stood by the chair before the place setting upon which her name was printed awaiting each of her guests to arrive. As they slowly started trickling in, Zephyr would direct them to their seats and would help them get comfortable before taking and filling their beverage orders. With each guest pacified, she made pleasantries until her brother, who made sure he was always the last to arrive, took over.
It was all these circuitous details she had planned weeks in advance just for her brother’s worthless friends that she thought about, when they arrived dressed like a lazy Saturday and smelling like the previous Tuesday, complete with: greasy hair, unbrushed teeth and black fingernails. It often struck her stupid how some of them so repulsed by dark skin could stand the sight of dirt upon their own. You would think these racists would take ten showers just so they wouldn’t happen upon a mirror and be forced to lynch themselves. It was all of these details she spent so much time dreaming about, just so this delinquent, the elder Leon, Doughty, could open his crooked mouth and declare that she didn’t belong at the table with the rest of the sons. She ignored the comments that would follow, comprised mostly by her defenders, the lessor Leon, Devil, and Stubb Oxley. She looked down across the table at Zeke hoping he wouldn’t be seduced by such a remark and thankfully was assuaged.
“Eef anythin’, should be that chutternutter Rez who don’t belon’.” Devil said pointing the sharp end of his steak knife towards Rez Adler. “He won’t first gen.”
“Don’t matter if my daddy didn’t help build this town, Devil. As if that somehow mean you got more heart in this than me.” Rez defended, seduced right on off the edge.
Zephyr took the brief silence that followed to refocus back on her plate. She stabbed into her steak with the fork on her left and sliced a sliver off with the knife on her right that she soaked in runny egg and brought to her mouth. By the time her second bite, a ripe strawberry, was swallowed the others were onto their second plates.
“I want to take this time to thank my heavenly sister for this bewitching and completely toothsome meal,” Zeke raised his glass and grinned. “You know we are the sons of hard workers --blistered hands and dirty collars --but you, Sis, have reminded us that we, too, are kings. Thank you for your efforts as always.”
“Why thank you, Zeke. That was mighty kind of you to say.” Zephyr smiled prettily at the boys who all raised their drinks to her in toast.
She kept her eyes on her brother sitting down at the far end of the table. The light from the windows in the rear of the church, streamed through behind him, making him appear more godly than normal. His positioning purely intentional. She hoped that all that stared at him today would be more readily swayed by his message. She watched as he picked up the letter that Rez had slid him, seemingly in secret, sometime in between his first and second plate. She pretended not to notice him examining its contents before stuffing it in his pocket and going on like it never even happened.
“And now that our bellies are nearly full boys we must get to the business at hand. I called upon each of you today. We are the first sons of the four, remaining prominent families who were here since the secession—Doughty and Devil Leon, Stubb Oxley, Arro Andrews, and Zeke and Zephyr Rose. And the one promising family who shows more heart sometimes than any of us—Rez Adler.” Zeke gassed.
“Our terrie is undergoing a consciousness shift. We are dividing between those who follow our fathers and those who follow our father’s sons. Our grandfather’s did something few collectives in the history had ever done. We separated from our government, created our own rule of law and afforded everyone else the same opportunity. Now hundreds of millions of people can choose their own existence. They can decide how they want to be ruled for the very first time and when their ideals change, they are free to leave their territories to find or create another one.”
Zeke placed his knife and fork beside the bones in the middle of his plate, retrieved his herb cigarette, pulled his lighter from his pocket, lit it and puffed a few times before passing it to Stubb on his right and continuing.
“It’s unfathomable how they lived, millions of different people, under one rule for so long. There have been wars over taxes, wars over colors, and wars over imaginary weapons. Our grandfather’s created actual change at a systemic level without war by demanding a solution that resolved the actual problem. Believe it or not, another man’s skin has never and will never be our enemy, boys. Our true enemy is time. This has always been an old man’s world. We fight old men’s wars. We live under old men’s rules. We accept what old men choose to give us and every single time we lose. But no more. Our grandfather’s did not create history just so our fathers could continue reaching backwards in order to hold on to their youth. It is gone. We are the youth now. This is really our world and I can prove it. Time is not and can never be on their side in this war. Time has always and will always move towards the youth. We must make the rules that we will follow. We must decide the wars worth fighting for. We must figure out how to feed, govern, save ourselves.”
“So what do you propose, Zeke, reintegration?” Stubb asked worriedly.
“We can’t, Zeke. Our fathers would never go for that and nor do I blame ‘em.” Arro affirmed.
“Dose niggers took…”
“You will not use such words in my presence, Doughty,” Zeke tensed forward and spat, “nor in my granddaddy’s church.”
Zeke relaxed back into his seat, unclenched his fist from under the table, wiped his sweaty palms on his dirty jeans and continued. “Look at our town. Have you ever seen a Black? An Hispanic? A Muslim? An Asian? Have you ever seen a Hawaiian? Ever? Besides the one or two, that you never see, that the government sends to fill the hospital? Our fathers will tell you the reason their fathers took Apalachicola and the siege began was because during their times the White man was under attack.”
“And they were. The coloreds took their jobs. Invaded their country. Stole their women. Killed their loved ones. Read any book on secession.” Arro argued.
“Our daddy said they all done pee-tioned the da gov’ment to drop ta bombs on us straight from God’s blue sky. Kill ‘eem all dead dey say.” Devil added.
“But we haven’t been under this attack in some 80 odd years, sons. There has been no invasions of any outsiders and we are still homeless, we are still jobless, our loved ones are still getting killed. We do this to ourselves. We must continue to fight what is true or be forever lost fighting its shadow.”
“No mixin’, Zeke.” Arro tightened. “I don’t have no problems with any of ‘em. I never saw another one in my life and wouldn’t feel no bluer if I did. But we have a good thing here. What’s it going to look like the very first terrie who seceded over colors starts lettin’ ‘em in?”
“Despite what you may think of me, I don’t want to reintegrate. But I will do what I have to do to save this terrie. Even if it means amending our laws to accept all colors. I will never go back to one rule of law by any means. Especially without having tried everything and you should want and do the same for yourselves and your future youth.”
Zeke could see quite clearly now that all the progress he previously made was nearly undone. So he abandoned the thought and hitched a ride upon another hoping to still save what was lost. “The truth is, we were the first terrie. We were the test pilot. Don’t you remember in school, when Ms. Mulberry called on you first to recite your presentation? Everyone who came after learned what not to do. Well, every other terrie learned how to be better because we leapt first. It’s natural for us to falter as we acclimate to the changes that come with time. But we must adapt if we are to survive.”
Zeke pleaded, “listen! Our grandfathers did something great. They discovered fire. Then our fathers came along and really just tried to keep from killing themselves with it. But that is the extent of their contributions towards our history. We are the grandsons. It is up to us to explore what that fire can do. That will be our story and our limitation too.”
“So what are you asking from us?”
“I am calling on the first sons of the five dignified families of Territory One to come together as a collective and rule.” Zeke propositioned.
“And our daddies?” Doughty inquired.
“They must adapt. But no matter what happens, they will not survive this. Time has always been an unforgiving bitch.”
Zephyr could see Zeke was out of inspiration and the boys were no more enlightened than they were before they ate. She watched Zeke turn to Rez and ask his opinion on the subject, as he hadn’t said a single word since he was angered by Devil and really just needed another opinion that sounded a lot like his.
Rez stopped to clear his throat, shifted in his seat to allow him more time before continuing shyly. “I know I am not a first gen like you all. But Territory One took my daddy in when no other terrie would. This land means somethin’ to me. I’ll do anything I can to protect it. I am with Zek…” Rez abruptly faded.
The thinness of the double doors created more of a slapping sound than a thump when they swung open and carried through them six angry men. Father’s Leon, Oxley and Andrews, along with three others, stormed the short walkway and sidled up to their sons in haste.
“Treason!” Father Andrews shouted towards Zeke. “You are committing treason on our lands.”
“Holdin’ secret meetin’s without the fathers present too. You really playin’ with fire, boy.” Father Oxley said.
“Housin’ a nigger on your property. We outta string you up next to him.”
“You will not use that word in front of me, Father Brandon.” Zeke gritted just as the elder Oxley grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up to his feet.
“Else what?” Father Leon threatened as he pushed his chest right into Zeke’s.
“Fathers? Sons? You will not defile my granddaddy’s church with your antics and if so much as one of my momma’s fine china comes up chipper you will have to answer to Mother Rose yourselves. Now unhand my brother, Ned Oxley, and take your shenanigans to the street like men.” Zephyr commanded.
The door slapped open once more and ushered out of them twelve angry men. Zephyr Rose put both palms on the table, inhaled and expelled the demons tempting her salvation. The shouting from the street resurrecting all those the breaths killed. She ran to the door, hurled it open with a slap and looked out. Fathers and sons engaged in battle surrounding her brother covered in dirt on the street with the elder Leon hurling blows onto him and the major and minor Leons dodging punches while attempting to break them up. Rez would be the one who would eventually succeed. Tossing Father Leon to the ground; reigniting a new war now between Leons and Adler.
“STOP IT!” Zephyr shouted running towards the edge of the street. “Don’t make me say it twice.” She firmed when she arrived.
The men stopped with Zephyr’s command and gathered into their natural orders. Three clumps—six fathers, four sons, Zeke and Rez. Zeke caught his breath so that he may speak again which Father Leon then stole.
“Im'ma keel him.” He said directly to Zeke.
“You will not harm the boy on my land, Leon.” Zeke threatened.
“Im’ma keel him. Den, Im’ma keel you.”
“If I see you on my divisions, Father, I will hurt you in ways your kids will feel. I am going to attack your heart by wiping your entire bloodline from this planet starting with you.”
“Well, he better not step one toe onto public property without you there, Zeke, or he is dead.” Father Andrews promised.
“He will be gone in one week’s time.” Zeke assured.
“We will discuss your treason with the other fathers, boy, and deal with you later.” Father Oxley said.
Then the fathers and sons departed, leaving Zephyr and Zeke Rose the last ones standing.
The day was dark but the weather humid and you could smell the rain forming in the air. Zephyr still standing on the edge of the street with Zeke, not really sure what to make of her meeting. Not really sure how to begin.
“Are you okay?” Zephyr asked making pleasantries.
“I’ll survive.” Zeke sang.
“I don’t know about this, Zeke.” She sighed.
“Well it was your idea, dear sister.”
Zephyr turned to Zeke, who was assessing his injuries, and gave him the opinion he didn’t ask for. “We both know Doughty and Devil will have a hard time going against their father. I think we can convince the others with some time. But I don’t know how we would ever trust them. They aren’t like us and that’s not a foundation I like to build upon.”
“I have something in mind for each of them.” Zeke reassured her while wiping up the blood continuously spotting from his nose with his sleeve.
“Another one of your tests?” Zephyr rolled her eyes. Still expecting an answer, however. Which she didn’t get. So she moved onto another question that quickly needed answering as well. “Were you serious about mixin’?”
“Oh, it was meant to be motivatin', Zephyr.”
“That’s not what I asked, Zeke.” She stiffened.
“Our grandfathers did something good. I would never change that. But I do think they got it both right and wrong.”
“Well, no one is going to go for that. Not one of the dignified families. Not a townie. No one. So don’t go around saying that shit again.”
“If you are done…” Zeke sighed, abruptly ending the conversation by starting off towards his truck.
“There is something else.”
“Quickly dear sister, I must reset my nose.” He said, turning around to give her one last audience.
“The Petitions Analyst. He knows everything about terries.”
“Well, now we are saying somethin'.”
“I sat in his office for an hour and a half listening to him ramble about all the rules. Intricacies you can’t find anywhere. He could prove useful to you.”
A Petitions Analyst? Hm.” Zeke doubted.
“He’s a Garvey.”
“Related?” Zeke piqued.
“Don’t know. He is Black. Half-breed, but Black enough to get killed if the wind so much as blow a hair off his head.
“Does he fancy you, dear sister? Can we use that?” Zeke smiled in the way he knew his sister hated. Like an evil cartoon character, she once described, who rubs his hands together as he recites his world dominating plan.
“He isn’t like the others in this town.” Zephyr said completely unbothered by his gestures. “He’s…different.” Because they went unnoticed.
“Well, did you convince him or not?”
“Barely.”
“Good. Then we ride for him tonight.” Zeke straightened. He finally felt refreshed, as if reminded of something he had forgotten. The glow quickly returning to his face. “And I need a favor.”
“Who is it?” Zephyr sighed.
“Stubb.”
“Not Rez?”
“Naw. Naw. Rez is loyal.” He smiled wide.
“How do you know for sure?”
Zeke gleefully sidled up next to his sister and whispered to her as though everyone in the world could hear. “During the scuffle, Rez stuck Father Leon with one of his daddy’s toxins. He’ll be dead within the hour in the safety of his own home of a heart attack.”
Zephyr filled with a similar kind of delight. One Zeke didn’t quite catch at all. “So you’ve changed your mind. We stay and fight?”
“Well… I mean, contingency plans and such. But this is our land and we really shouldn’t give it up without war.”
“Then it’s decided.” Zephyr said as calmly as her name implied.
“I really must be going now, dear sister. Deadlines.” Zeke smiled at her, kissed her on the cheek and headed towards his truck once more, never to turn around again.
“Where are you off in a rush to really?” Zephyr asked to his back, which was ignored all the same.
“Does this have anything to do with the note, Zeke?” Zephyr tried again.
“Midnight, Zephyr.” Zeke shouted in his singsongy way into the humid air before him.
“Never trust a Percie, Ezekiel.” Zephyr yelled his full name this time. Hoping now he understood she was serious.
Zephyr sat on the edge of the bed with her legs spread, revealing to him the lips that separate boys from girls. She watched him remove his clothes and fall to his knees when she asked him to show her how he begs without words. His flesh chose her, as if to say that’s her, the second he removed him from his pants. She waited in agony to see if it would falter, fall, waver, wave; all signs as proof it didn’t want her at all.
“Crawl.” She seduced when he passed.
Then she felt herself filling up before his tongue would fill her up. Her feet on his shoulders, her thighs gripping his head, she squirted on his face, then let him take it like it was his.
Zephyr collapsed onto her bed with him still inside her. “Thank you for that bewitching and completely toothsome meal.” He whispered in her ear mockingly. Zephyr’s smile deviated from its typical path and formed naturally, lingering long after he disappeared behind the bathroom door. He mumbled something she would regret asking him to repeat.
“Doughty,” he said when he peeked out. “You shouldn’t worry about him. He knows, as well as any of us, you belong.”
The insignificance of this admission was displayed upon her face as he came around to the side of the bed and laid down next to her. “I think he’s mad he’s never been between your legs yet. Hell, half this town is. We all steady wonder what it takes to be with you.”
She allowed more of the impatience to show as he went along. “Can I be frank, Zephyr?”
“Sure, Stubbs.” She sighed insolently.
“Why do you let Zeke dictate who it is you fuck? It’s sick.”
The laugh erupted hardily and the more she saw, as she went along chuckling that he was bothered, the more she was appeased by her response. “Why does this town seem to care so much about who I let between my legs?” She asked with curious composure.
“Just your body is a temple is all. Should be treasured.”
“That’s mighty nice comin’ from the guy who had no problems defilin’ it.” Zephyr hardened.
“Its not that, Zephyr.”
“No. No it is that. This town has a problem with who I fuck until its one of them. Then all of a sudden it’s holy and righteous.”
“It’s just that…” Stubb began, trying to make amends.
“Did you ever think that maybe I just really love dick?” Zephyr asked blatantly.
“I know all of Zeke’s tests, Zephyr. That’s the reason why I am here, right? You’ve never once before…”
“So, is that it then? You want to know how you performed, Stubby? Fucking your best friend’s sister, well, I wouldn’t think too good.”
“Did you ever stop and think that the test was for you, Zeph?” Stubb said aggravated now. “That maybe he knows about you and Rez.”
Zephyr pulled back from Stubb as much as she could in her position and pondered heavily over his admission. She didn’t much like the idea of him thinking he had won and the longer she sat in silence, pondering, the more he was convinced that he had struck a nerve.
“You want to know what it takes to be my man, Oxley?”
Stubb looked at Zephyr like he was being baited and took the chum. “Very much.”
“I need to feel safe and I need to feel understood. Haven’t found either yet.”
Zephyr could see Stubb was struggling to understand, so she continued. “See, it’s like this, I have fantasies of moving to Terrie 2, being courted by a financial planner or something or other, getting engaged, a lavish wedding, a new house with a garden and a tire swing, popping out two and half kids.”
“Sounds really nice, Zeph.” Stubb glowed with envy.
“And then sometimes, I have this raging desire,” Zephyr finished, “to sit on every man in this town’s face until I die of dehydration.”
Zephyr smiled. “I am a duality. I’ll either die of old age in a hospital bed in the very same second as my boringly, doting husband or in a blaze of glory. But the thing is, I really want both. But you men haven’t quite figured out the art of multi-tasking.”
Zephyr rose from her bed and started to dress. She could see now in his eyes that she had won. Instinct begged her to end this early. To keep some of this man whole after she was done. But she was mad now. “Understand something about me, Stubbs, Lord knows you will never grasp it all. I am just asking for you to get this one thing.”
Zephyr sunk her palms into the spot she once pretended to cum as he pumped away inside her, leaned in close to him and finished her thought. “I will fuck for convenience. I will fuck for something I want. I will fuck for the benefit of my family. I will fuck because Zeke told me so. Nobody has ever taken anything from me that I wasn’t already willing to give. Stop confusing me for these other weak girls. My name may be Zephyr Rose, Stubby, but I should’ve been born a Gale. Now get your shit and leave my house.” And with that she was gone.
Zephyr slammed the door to her garage, rattling her windows and the man in her bed at the very same time. She walked over to the third spot, removed the car cover which she balled and threw onto the rack bolted to the ceiling above it, jumped into the black car and sped off.
When she reached Zeke’s she was fuming. She had decided on the drive over to wait until he provoked her before spitting the seven devils he deserved. Fortunately for him, he wasn’t in a talkative mood. So, Zephyr quickly adjusted the terms of her agreement and unleashed holy hell.
“Don’t you ever fucking test my loyalty again, Zeke.”
And as if he had already been privy to the angered conversation happening within her head, did he say, “I just had to know how serious this thing was between you and Rez.”
“You could’ve just asked me.”
“Yeah, well now I believe you.”
“I’ve never been in love. Never given you one chance to doubt me.” Zephyr said through shaky breaths.
“And that’s the part that scares me, Zephyr. You are overdue. Love complicates war and we don’t need complication now. Especially from you.”
Zephyr drove the six hours to Territory Two in angry silence as Zeke snored softly from the passenger seat. In her heart she had known he was right and if it had been him in her shoes, she would’ve done the very same thing. Rez was the only man in her life that she had fucked more than twice and even after the third time, she had vowed she would never do it again. But she thirsted after his compliments like she was in drought, scavenged for his scent in crowds, fantasized in ordinary places and in front of God-fearing people about how he would practically make her beg for him to fill her mouth.
She couldn’t tell if it was love or lust with Rez. The son of a chemist. She had inquired several times if his daddy knew spells. There could be no other explanation for why she felt like this. How the son of a nerd could make her body blurr. She could feel all the things he had done to her long after he was gone.
A mile or so before Zephyr entered Terrie 2, she pulled over to the side of the road. She nudged Zeke awake and he could tell at the gentleness with which he was startled that she had forgiven him.
“It’s time.”
Zephyr pulled the lever to the trunk, allowing Zeke to climb inside. She closed the door over his head and started the car, this time in pilot, plugging in her coordinates, then allowed it to gently coax off. The car, which was an older model and registered to a Loyalist, still tracked the basic information required to keep them from having a swarm of police officers pull them over for driving an unlawful vehicle the second they crossed bounds and transported to Terrie 3 to await trial. The newer models, which ban the ability to self-drive all together, also don’t come with certain key features that would aid two kidnappers in the commission of a crime. One of those key features, a relegated tracking system, that ceases to trace a car’s whereabouts outside of mechanized roads. And another more important feature being an actual trunk. Most cars in Territory 2 now come equipped with a locked box located just under each seat for belongings as most cars on the road in Terrie 2 are not personally owned.
The car pulled over to the house marked 1111 Pembrook Lane and parked along the curb in front. Zephyr let it idle while she applied the last of her makeup, smacking and blotting until satisfied and then jumping out to greet him coming out of the door.
“Let me help you with something.” She winked seductively and pulled the smaller bag tucked under his arm.
“I packed a couple breakfast sandwiches for us. Could you grab them from the kitchen table? Just inside to the right.”
“Sure, hon.”
“How do I get in your trunk?” Lincoln inquired.
“For you, pretty easily.” She flirted and then corrected when it didn’t elicit a response. “The silly thing is broken. Just put your bags in the back. It’s unlocked.”
Zephyr didn’t even wait to see if he would attempt to try the trunk anyway. She kind of hoped he would. She instead walked straight into the living room from the entrance and peeped around for quite awhile before stumbling her way to the kitchen. Everything was immaculate and in greyed tones. The thought of him scolding their children for returning their books to the shelf out of order flooded her mind for some reason. Awakened, she grabbed the black, insulated bag and left Lincoln Garvey’s house nearly unharmed. Except for a small note, she wrote on his refrigerator.
Any police official who would review the traffic footage on the day of Lincoln Garvey’s disappearance would find an unidentified blonde woman and a smiling Lincoln leaving town. The note in a woman’s handwriting left on his refrigerator, “Fell in love. Will call soon. -Lincoln. Heart. Heart. Heart.” Would be enough for the police to placate his grieving parents for a short time.
But not more than two miles outside of Terrie 2, did the positions of two men quickly reverse. Lincoln now bound in the trunk of a car and Zeke now released to the passenger seat made both men ponder over circumstances and life chances. In order to survive this world, why must someone die? And as they travel along, the one with the world dominating plan and the other with the six, uncertain ones on an arm, both converging towards a territory that would string them up from a tree rather than see them succeed, could only seem to obsess over, how rare it must be to feel so alive.
This work is created by, written by and belongs to Aecko and shared here for entertainment.