Page 23 of Absolution

Seven

Kerry

In the first confused moments, I don’t know where I am. I don’t recognize the fabric I rest my cheek on, and my legs are tangled with someone else’s legs.

I shoot up off the couch when everything washes over me. Christian! I’m sleeping on his shoulder. How the hell did I end up here?

Then I twitch to action. Cecilia! I dart to her side and put a hand on her forehead. She’s hot. Her gaze is drowsy and her eyes glazed. “Wate,” she rasps and then the coughing starts again. She is ill for real. My throat clenches and a flutter of worry occupies my chest. We need to go.

Now.

When I turn, Christian is sitting up. His gaze is dulled, and he looks exhausted.

“How is she?” He stands and walks over to the crib.

I lift a limp Cecilia and shake my head at Christian as I carry her to the kitchen to get her some lemonade. She needs water and sugar.

“Are you hungry, honey?”

Cecilia shakes her head. I throw Christian a pleading glance and he nods. He understands. We have a new wordless communication we’ve never had before. In the midst of the numbing worry, it warms my chest.

I busy myself with Cece while Christian packs everything we think is necessary. The most well-dressed will be our daughter. I don’t have any decent boots, neither does Christian, and his elegant, expensive-looking coat isn’t exactly made for outdoor activities. We grunt orders to each other throughout the morning: remember to take this, don’t forget that, open that cabinet, pull that out… short, efficient words, working together like a team.

She’s awake but limp, doesn’t say much, refuses to eat but drinks a little. She scares me to death.

Christian sees my concern and our preparations speed up.

He rummages around in every little corner of my house, finding everything that could be useful, while I make some breakfast for us. I pack a few sandwiches for the trip too. We eat standing, wolfing down as much as we can manage, the heavy lump in my stomach doesn’t allow me more than one sandwich.

“How far is it to Sprague, Kerry?”

“It’s about an hour from Middlebro. If the roads have been cleared.”

“I hope to fuckin’ God they have,” he mutters. “All right, it took what, thirty-forty minutes to drive here, so we’ll be in Sprague in less than two hours. I parked half an hour’s walk down the road. I should be back in forty. We’ll be at the hospital in two and a half, three hours.” He takes in my agonized expression. “Breathe. We’ve got this. It’ll be all right.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I try to find comfort in his assurances as I bandage my left ankle with strips torn from my last clean sheet while he does the same with his left knee. The sight would have been laughable if it hadn’t been so serious. I’m nervous about how the roads look. I’m afraid for Cece, and I’m worried about what will happen between Christian and me once we get back to town.

I’ll cross that bridge when we get there.

I glance out the window. A thin layer of snow has covered everything during the night. With the sun up, it glitters beautifully. It’s calm. Some trees have fallen during the storm, but it doesn’t look too bad.

Christian lingers in the doorway. His eyes dart between me and Cecilia. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, Kerry.” Concern is etched on his face.

“Be careful,” I say as the door slams shut.

Christian

The outside world is quiet, so different from a couple of nights ago when I chased through the woods in the roaring storm to catch up with a fleeing Kerry. I slip on icy patches as I veer across the snow-covered front yard and then hit the road. I’m haunted by Cecilia’s dulled gaze. My knee soon begins to pound. At first, it’s just a distant discomfort, but it gets worse.

I count the minutes until I should be at my car and can sit down and just drive back up and get my ladies.

I stop flat at the sight of a large tree that has fallen across the road, and in front of it a rusty, blue pick-up truck, it’s engine compartment and front window smashed in. The same one I followed from the hotel, through the woods in the storm some nights ago. Ray. What the fuck?

I walk up to the truck, clear a little hole in the frost and look into it, seeing no one. Where the fuck is he? I try the door, but it’s locked. I use my sleeve to wipe off the window better. Maybe there’s something in there I can use? I see part of a shotgun, a pair of gloves, and a lot of used paper tissues. On the flatbed lies a shovel and some neatly folded ropes. I can’t think of anything I can do with either of them, so I move on, still puzzled over the disappearance of the man.

I freeze, a horrible thought striking me. I recognize this part of the road all too well. It’s fucking right where I parked my car. This isn’t happening! Fighting the twigs, rocks and roots, I plough through the terrain around the tree, I make my way to the other side, praying to a deity that has never listened to me that the road will be clear.

It isn’t. My heart drops to my feet. The huge crown of the tree has fallen onto the side road, blocking it off. There’s not a chance in hell I can get past it.

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