Page 71 of The Broken Places

She reached for Tanner, but suddenly she was blown back, and she screamed as she flew through the air, the blast of the shotgun so loud that it felt like a bomb had exploded between her ears.

Someone ran past her, the man who’d robbed the store, the one who’d come in behind them while they laughed and sang about piña coladas in the potato chip aisle. The one with the bloodshot eyes who’d shot Tanner. Tanner had dropped the bottle of iced tea he’d been holding, and it’d crashed loudly on the floor. She sat up, watching blearily as a girl in jeans and a white sweater went down on her knees next to him.Me. That’s me.She watched the horror in her own eyes, and then she watched as that horror increased when her past self looked out the front door.

She knew what the girl who was her was seeing. She was watching the other men who’d been in the car with the robber get out and move back toward the store.Why? Why? Oh no, oh God.What did they want? She asked the question then, but she knew the answer now. They were part of a gang, and they’d been taking part in an initiation that went awry. They were supposed to rob the clerk, but they’d accidentally shot a customer. And there’d been a witness. Her. The other members had decided that they had to kill her and the clerk so the murder wouldn’t come back to them. And so they’d headed back into the store to clean up the mess. All this knowledge was contained in one short string of numbers that flashed in the air in front of her.

The girl who was her shot to her feet, picking up Tanner under his arms and dragging him toward the back. He moaned. He was still alive. Her breath came out in ragged pants and she could barely feel her limbs, but that small sound gave her the hope and the courage to pull him around the corner and toward the back. She felt the feelings of then mixed with the sorrow of now, and though it was terrible and tragic and hopeless, there was a bright pulse underlying it all, numbers and light smashing and colliding and dancing in a way that was so beautiful her mouth fell open. It was love, love so bright and profound that it made her gasp in wonder. She’d acted in love for Tanner, and sheknew through the sight of the light and the numbers that he felt it. Her love was flowing into him despite the fear and the cold and the panic. It was brighter than all those things and more powerful than anything she’d ever felt.

The light lulled her, and for a moment she drifted, but then something sharp poked her ribs and she groaned, moving away from it and opening her eyes.

Come back. The middle is waiting for you. I’m with you. Let’s go.

Cold. God, she was suddenly so, so cold. She lifted her head, blinking around. A freezer. She was in a freezer. She’d pulled Tanner inside and his head was cradled in her lap. She shivered, hunching her shoulders against the chill. Next to her, the warmth of the Saint Bernard pressed in, his thick coat giving her comfort and warding off the worst of the cold. He rubbed his head against her shoulder.Back, forth, back, forth.Lennon looked down and pulled in a sob. Tanner’s lips were curved in a smile, his eyes just beginning to shut. He wouldn’t open them again, the her of now knew that. But so did the her of then. “No,” she said. “No, no, no.”

She heard the robbers in the store, yelling at the clerk. Then she bit down on her tongue so she wouldn’t scream when she heard the blast of the shotgun. He’d been killed but only after he’d told them he hadn’t called the police. She learned later that his cell phone was dead. He’d been heading for the office to call for help when they returned to kill him. There was no alarm. No one on the way. And Lennon was in the freezer with the dying boy she loved.

“Hey, Picasso.” She pulled in a breath, gasping when she looked up to see that Tanner was no longer in her lap but standing, leaned against the wall, one foot crossed over the other. So casually handsome, full of life.

“Picasso? Why do you call me Picasso? I play the piano.”

He grinned, completely unfazed by the sounds coming from beyond the door, the sound of something heavy being pushed against it and what she now knew was a broom handle being jammed underthe lever. Why make things bloodier when two people had sealed their own doom by locking themselves in a commercial freezer? Or maybe they were sociopaths. Maybe knowing their victims would both suffer, and for longer, excited them. “Are you sure?” Tanner asked with a lift of his brow. “I’m almost positive he’s a musician.”

“He’s an artist.” She could visualize his paintings even now. Abstract. Disturbing as far as she was concerned and not at all her style.

“No, I’m pretty sure he plays the piano.”

She rolled her eyes. He loved to pretend to be wrong about something and get her nineteen-year-old self riled up. The Lennon of now pulled in a breath of despair. “Your sense of humor would have gotten better,” she said. “I was counting on it.”

He laughed. “No, it wouldn’t have. And no, you weren’t. But by the way, I still have a sense of humor.”

“You’re dead, Tan.”

“Whatever you say, Picasso.” He smiled again. “But there’s a lot you don’t know.”

“Like what?” She turned toward the sound of another object being shoved in front of the door. She’d known later what they used but she couldn’t remember now. It didn’t matter, she supposed. She’d finally found the courage to get up, then, and she watched as her panicked, horrified, tearful self moved Tanner gently and then stood, pushing uselessly against the door. She went over to her then-self and took her hand. The girl looked up, startled, eyes blinking as Lennon pulled the girl that was her away from the door. They sat on the floor again, and Lennon put her arm around the girl and pulled her close, the Saint Bernard taking the other side and warming her chilled skin. It’d been so cold. So hopeless and so desolate. So filled with indescribable grief. She could never stand the cold after that. It was the temperature of horror and despair. The mildest chill would send panic dripping through her. She carried blankets and sweaters everywhere she went, refusing to ever be cold again. Trying desperately to ward off the wintry winds of mourning.

The misty numbers split and divided and twirled toward her through the air, disappearing through her skin, marking her, even if she didn’t know exactly how.

A second scene rose up in front of her, that moment she’d driven by Ambrose standing in the rain. He’d looked to be shivering, and she couldn’t bear it. She couldn’t drive by and leave him there in the cold. Not after the story he’d told about the sea lion and the man who’d realized the value of his life in a four-second fall.

In some ways, her freezer had been her four-second fall. But she’d carried such guilt for wanting so badly to live, to come out alive, when Tanner would not. Lines of light and opaque numbers split and jumped and rose and fell, and for the flash of an instant she understood it all. How the universe was made of math and vibrations and everything affected everything each moment of every day. And as soon as that vast knowledge blossomed, it faded away, ungraspable. Gone.

She drew the girl that was her closer, letting her know she was going to be okay. She was going to live, and she was going to heal, and she was going to be pulled from this freezer, almost dead but not quite, her will to live strong and fierce. For herself and for Tanner, who she’d held in her arms that long frigid night, stroking his frozen cheek even after he’d died.

She’d asked him a question a moment ago—what is it I don’t know?She looked up at him now, and he was watching her, a small smile on his face. “Well, you might not know that classical music very literally lowers blood pressure and reduces anxiety. You should remember that, Picasso. And you should start playing again.”

She shook her head. “I can’t, Tan. It hurts too much. That was the old me and I can’t be her again.”

“You can’t be me, either, though. So where does that leave you?”

She sighed. He was right, and she had no answer to his question. When she looked back up at Tanner, he still had that gentle smile on his face, and this time, he had a bundle in his arms. He nodded down to what she could now see was a baby. He approached and squattednext to her, holding the baby so carefully. Her heart squeezed tightly in pain. “Is it our baby?” she asked. The one they would have had but now never would?

“No, silly,” he said. “It’s your baby. He’s beautiful. He’s going to be a healer.” Then Tanner tipped the baby, and Lennon gasped as the baby rolled forward and then disappeared into her. Tanner smiled. He stood and went to the door. “Open it, Lennon.”

“I can’t. It’s locked. It’s barred from the outside.”

“No, it’s not. Not anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time. Open it.”

She came slowly to her feet, pulling the girl that was her along, the dog following behind. She put her hand on the lever and pushed at the door, opening it easily.Oh.Tanner stood outside now, reaching his hand out to her. “I’ve been waiting for you to leave that freezer,” he said. “Come on out. It sucked in there. It’s time to leave for good.”

---