Previous chapter - The Last 3 Days (09): Hope Smells Like Bacon. All published chapters can be found here. 46:38:44 No sooner had Don shut the front door when Anne called from the kitchen. “Nick?” “Just me,” Don answered, as his wife appeared in the kitchen passage. “Did you find him?” “I haven’t even had a chance to start.” “What?” Asked Anne. “Then why are you here? You need to find him. Before it’s too late.” 46:31:27 A ragged figure, bearded and clad in worn desert camouflage, materialized from the scrub, the carcass of a young deer slung across his shoulders. The fresh blood staining his combat jacket might well have been his own, so scarred and ravaged was the left side of his face. Multiple combat tours in Afghanistan had gifted Tomas other traumas less obvious than his facial wound but far more damaging. He had no need of a mirror to remind him of his injury — he saw the shock and fear of those who looked at him and he could imagine the revulsion they felt. It seemed best for everyone if he removed himself to live in this isolated corner of the world. Tomas dropped his right shoulder and let his rifle strap slide down his arm, catching it in his hand. He rested the weapon against the soddy’s wall and moved around to the side. Lifting the deer from his shoulders, he lowered it to the ground and tied the hind legs together with twine from a rack made of saplings. Once the carcass was hung, he set a bucket under it and pulled an intimidating — and well used — combat knife from a scabbard on his belt and slit the animal’s throat. Satisfied, he wiped his hands on his pants, collected the rifle and headed inside. Above the door were two hooks spaced to accommodate the weapon. It needed cleaning but he was hungry, so he raised it to its proper place. Moving to the table, he lifted the pitcher to drink. It was empty. As was the linen bag. Less than a minute later, Tomas cradled his weapon in his elbow and studied the ground. For him, picking out the broken grass left by Nick’s shuffling gait was little more than instinct. 46:15:57 Peter Thurro had finished copying the names, addresses and phone numbers of his employees to the statement form and was watching television when Don walked past him to his own desk. Don logged in to the Police Resource Database, reclining in his chair to wait for the animated icon to grant him access. “I’m finished, Officer,” Thurro said, and placed the forms on the desk. “Great. I’ll be with you in a moment.” He carefully typed Jay’s full name with one finger, then hit Search. While he waited for the database to return results, he tugged Thurro’s statement closer and began to read. “Ryan Bellows? Why do I know that name?” He continued reading, turning the page when he reached the bottom, but the computer chimed and distracted him. At the top of the employee list of names and addresses was ‘Jay Taylor’. The database contained nothing Don didn’t already know. Sighing, he returned his attention to the statement — and chuckled. “Mysterious ways, indeed.” Next to Jay’s name was an address and phone number. Don stood and shook Thurro’s hand. “Excellent statement, Mr. Thurro,” Don added. “I’ll start interviewing your employees immediately. Please let yourself out.” Don picked up the page of names and left. 45:21:43 What had been scrub grass became bush often taller than Nick. Though cooler with the shade it provided, it also forced Nick to stop sporadically and check the position of the sun. It wasn’t much help now as it was directly overhead, so he tried choosing the tallest vegetation in sight and walking to it. This was a short-lived strategy, because as the bushes and small trees rose in height, so too did they crowd together until one thicket looked like the next. When he stopped to take his next bearing, he heard movement in the bush behind him. 45:01:54 Anne sat on the sofa in front of the TV, but ignored it as she repeatedly dialled Nick’s phone and let it ring through to his messages. On screen, the news anchor had hit his stride. He had never looked so competent, so dedicated. He didn’t need the teleprompter now. He knew his stuff. “And so the mystery surrounding the asteroid Benevolence B7438 and the fate of Noah Hoag, the student who discovered it, continues to deepen.“ 44:53:21 Jay climbed out of the cab outside his home a new man. Wearing a new dress shirt and chinos, his hair was freshly cut. He used his foot to close the door of the cab, careful not to soil his new lace-ups, because his hands were full of shopping bags. There was nothing he could do when his arms were grasped from behind. Ryan stepped in front of him. “New threads for a new job.” He reached out and ruffled Jay’s hair. “And a haircut. Nice. Waste of money, though.” “What do you want, Ryan?” Ryan leaned in. “Payback,” he said, and laughed. “Surely you didn’t think ratting me out would go unpunished?” Jay laughed back. “You take fifteen percent of our wages and then blame us for not submitting.” Shrugging, Ryan said, “I take what I want.” A strange voice interrupted. “And I stop people like you.” Don stood several paces away, gun drawn. “Over here, Jay,” he ordered. “The rest of you, on your knees, hands on your heads.” Dave and Steve released Jay’s arms and knelt beside Bobby. Ryan looked ready to run, until Don cocked his weapon. Keeping out of reach, Don circled to stop in front of Ryan. “You’re a classic bully, aren’t you, Ryan? It is Ryan, right? I pulled you over yesterday before you could hit your girl. Get on your knees.” Scowling, Ryan took his time to kneel beside the others, but Don wouldn’t bite. Only when he had settled did Don look at Jay. “Go stash your bags, son, then come back. We need to talk. Quickly, now.” Nodding, Jay moved off to obey. Don closed the distance to the kneeling Ryan — who stared back, hatred plain on his face. Don just smiled. “See yourself as a real gangster, do you, Ryan, extorting and beating women? Very macho. Until you’re behind bars. A pretty boy like you would learn very quickly you’re more sex toy than gangster.” Moving down the line, he addressed the other three. “On any other day, I would gladly let you spend the weekend in jail. That’s not an option at the moment.” Jay exited the apartment block. “So what are the options?” He continued. “I can either let you go. Or just shoot you.” That got the reaction he wanted. “Not to kill, mind,” Don added, “just to ruin what could be the last weekend of your lives.” Taking two steps back, Don glanced at Jay. “Get in the car, son.” Instead, Jay stopped, his head cocked. He turned back. Don heard it then. Nick’s ringtone. Ryan and his friends forgotten, Don instinctively rushed towards the sound, and his son. Jay was retrieving something from the flower bed. Behind them, Ryan hit Bobby’s arm as he pushed himself up and bolted. One after another, the others followed. Jay held out the ringing phone. Don briefly debated between the phone and the running men. He answered. “Hello? … No. Anne. It’s me. We found Nick’s phone … Only because we heard it ring … No, Anne, it doesn’t mean anything … No … Yes … I don’t know … Bye.” Don followed Jay to the patrol car, waited while Jay got in. Then he circled Ryan’s car and shot all four tires before he climbed into the cruiser and pulled away. 43:44:17 Nick moved faster now, jogging where he could, careless of direction except to track away from the source of whatever was behind him. Out of breath, he stopped and listened. Silence. Relaxing, he checked the sun again and pushed through a thicket. Before him stood a monster in bloody camouflage, holding a rifle. It was too much. Fear and stress and heat stroke overwhelmed him. Nick fainted. 43:35:23 Don slowed as he encountered pedestrian traffic in his path, changing lanes to avoid the stragglers of a vast, unorganized crowd coalescing in a park whose pathways and flower beds wound between war memorials and a veteran’s monument. He couldn’t help smiling as he caught sight of the pastor perched on the monument’s plinth and reading from his Bible. As he accelerated once again, Jay said, “Thanks for saving me.” “You’re welcome. When did you last talk to Nick?” “Last night. He called to ask if he could sleep on my sofa.” Don looked over as he asked, “Where was he when he called?” Without hesitation, Jay said, “Waiting outside my apartment block.” “Damn. Where else would he go?” It looked like most summer Saturdays on the streets they passed, except less purposeful. People seemed to move more slowly than usual, as if under a collective drowsiness, though few were without food or a drink in their hands. Jay flipped open Nick’s phone and scanned the call history. “His last call was to me. Should I check his texts?” “So he should have been there,” Don said, his attention on turning onto a side street. “Sure,” he said, after a moment. “Good idea.” Scrolling through the messages, Jay found nothing useful. When he looked up, houses lined the street. His old neighbourhood. “Nothing,” he said. “Where are we going?” “Home. I’m taking you home.” “No.” Jay sat up and pointed at the curb. “Let me out here. Please.” The older man could only sigh. “If I pull over, will you hear me out?” “OK.” Don brought the car to a halt. “I promised your mother I’d find you and bring you home. Whatever it was you fought about, the Earth is facing the greatest threat in human history. You need to go home.” Jay stared at his lap in silence for several moments before drawing a deep breath. “I’m the reason my father is dead.” The statement caught Don off-guard. “What? How? Your father was killed by a drunk driver.” “Yeah, but he was out looking for me.” “Why was he looking for you?” Jay looked up. “We argued and I left. When I didn’t come home that night, he went out searching and — never came home.” “Well, your mom needs you now. She told me to tell you to come home.” Don put the car into Drive, but Jay tugged on the door latch. “I’m still going to get out here. I need time to think of what to say.” “Sure,” Don replied. “If you hear from Nick, tell him I’m over it.” Also Published Here

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