Part 5: The Others

Harper tried to become comfortable but it was to no avail. This was the first time in years he had been this close to Madison in any way but still there was just something off. He couldn’t pin down exactly why he had been so eager to help her or why he wanted to go back to New York with her so badly. Was he still in love? No, that can’t be right. He swore he had gotten over her when she left him for the place they were going now. He swore that, after Cami, he would never look back. Sure, he felt bad for what he did to Madi at the time but now he felt that maybe it was for the best and perhaps that should remain in the past. Harper looked out the window at the approaching New York City skyline and ruminated further on a subject that he had already thought too much about.

The subtle light of the moon spilled out of the hole where a manhole cover once sat and into the darkness that lay beyond. Timidly, Jo stood at the edge and cast her eyes down as far as they could see. “Is this safe or… or uh, legal?” 

Silas tested the top rung of the ladder leading down into the ground. When it appeared to be up to his seemingly arbitrary standards, he glanced at the bundle of nerves that stood next to him. “Safe I can guarantee you…” 

He hopped onto the top rung to be sure his statement was true. This sudden movement made Jo jump slightly. “But legal? Oh, honey, please. If it was legal we wouldn't be safe now, would we?” 

Jo leaned over the hole and watched her new friend climb toward the distant bottom and motion for her to follow. “I- um yeah… I suppose so. Do we need to go into the sewers? I mean it's gross and kinda… I don’t know, gross.” 

Silas looked up at Jo from the middle of the ladder. “Yes, we do. Are you coming or not? You won’t be any safer up there.” 

Jo swallowed her beating heart and closed her eyes. “Alright… alright. I’m coming.”

No going back now. 

Taking a metaphorical leap of faith, she carefully descended the narrow ladder into the sewers. They didn't smell as bad as she expected and, had it not been for a shallow pool of water and an occasional rat racing along the walls, she could have been convinced they were simply in a round concrete hallway. It was times like these that she was grateful that her dying phone had a flashlight and enough battery to last a fair while. With each splash beneath her feet her resolve grew as her heart became calm once more. “Silas, where are we going?” 

After a moment of quiet, he answered without turning back. “A… temporary residence. I'll explain when I find it.” 

Jo glanced at the walls and realized just how similar they all were. “Are we… lost?”

Silas scoffed. “Pfft. No. I am just- I’m just… uh- oh, here we are.”

After what felt like an entire maze, with far too many turns and corners, had passed by, the tunnel wall formed a steel door with a small slot. “See? Not lost.”

Silas approached and knocked on the door three times. “Please stay behind me, Jo.”

After a moment of muffled shuffling, the slot opened to a set of close set eyes the color of dead grass. Through the cracks around the eyes, a warm light flooded the dark concrete hallway. After a minute of examination, the eyes proved they also had a mouth. In a voice like flipping through a book at high speeds, he addressed the nearly bald man. “Salute, Mot de passe?” 

Silas looked at the boy with a slight exasperation stapled to his lips. “Beau, come on, c'est moi!” 

Beau shook his head and spoke in both a perfect french accent and an exaggerated american imitation. “Pas suffisamment bien. Naut-geud-eunough. mot de passe? Pass-aword” 

Silas sighed, gripping the bridge of his nose. “Um…fine. La- la mort à con- comploter. There. Let us in, please.” 

Beau shrugged. “Oui.” 

As the metal sound of a deadbolt being released rang through the tunnel, Jo looked back up at Silas. “Does he only speak French?” 

He took her hand and stepped through the doorway. “Only when he wants to.” 

Silas caught himself holding her hand and promptly dropped it like it was diseased. In her awe, Jo failed to notice this and instead kept her eyes on the room which spread before her. Inside was a large former boiler and maintenance room now converted into a living space. Cleaning supplies on metal racks, mops, and the massive boiler bordered the pattern of cots and foldable lawn chairs that took up more than half of the room. The boy named Beau revealed himself to be no older than sixteen. Despite his apparent young age, he towered over her 5’4” self and walked with a constant hunch. Silas went to shake his hand which was deftly avoided with the grace of an experienced introvert. Silas merely shrugged and smiled at the young man before moving into the room. The corner furthest from the door was a red chair populated by a man about ten years older than herself who lacked all hair. Head, eyebrows, and arms included. Over his shockingly smooth skin, he wore a style of gray jumpsuit unlike any she had never seen before and held a cane made of darkened metal. His equally gray eyes were trained on a little girl who lay on the floor drawing with a blue crayon. Upon Silas's approach the man's eyes met his. He groaned as he stood with his right arm keeping him steady. When he had reached the aphelion in his ascent from the earth, he held out his other hand which Silas took. “It's good to see you, how's your leg?” 

The man nodded. “Could be worse, of course. It could always be better too.” 

Silas laughed lightly and moved closer. He then spoke in a hushed tone which Jo could barely hear. “How about Misty? Is she getting better?” 

He shook his head and looked down at the little girl who was now smiling at her drawing. “Nothing has changed since you left to find the new one. She still draws him all the time. I tried getting her to draw something else but she kept saying no. I'm scared for her.” 

Silas nodded grimly before returning to Jo's side. The man looked up and caught Jo’s gaze in the gravity of his. “Is this the young lady we've been looking for?” 

“Indeed,” Silas gestured to the completely bald man. “Jo, meet James Harrisburg. He is the brains of this operation.” 

James saluted to her, a strange salute wherein he only held his last three fingers of his left hand to his temple before returning them to his side. “You can call me Moss.” 

He extended his hand which she hesitantly took. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Thatcher.” 

His grip was strong and the way he shook her hand only twice, up and down again, reminded her of her father. He too was in the military when he was younger. Despite the strange salute, they were almost uncannily similar. Moss released her hand and gestured over to the little girl. “This is Misty, my little charge.” 

Misty waved and Jo timidly waved back. “Are you…related?” 

“Oh- no, no she's from a different world but I am her caretaker for now. God knows what would happen if she was alone. If I were alone. I suppose I take care of her because it's… grounding for both of us.” 

Jo moved over to the little girl on the floor. When Misty didn't look up Jo asked: “What are you drawing?” 

Misty stopped what she was doing and held up a picture of a little girl labeled ‘ME’ and a sort of creature that towered above her. Its legs were the height of her body and the arms even longer. Where a head should have been there was a floating orb. The creature in question was labeled ‘LUMP’ in toddler cuneiform under its feet. Jo's expression turned to one of concern. “Awww, that's… uh- cute, I think?” 

Misty flashed a large smile showcasing her missing oversized front tooth. “He's my friend. I miss him.” 

Jo nodded and stood back up as Misty continued to scribble in large swoops on the already over-marked page. Moss turned to Silas. “The others don’t know we have found her yet. Should we go get them?” 

He shook his head. “I will go retrieve them, you just keep an eye on her. Don't let her leave, it's dangerous out there,” He donned the trench coat he was wearing just a moment ago, “I will be back before dawn. We need to leave in the morning otherwise we might be spotted. You remember the last time we got seen in one of our locations?” 

Moss laughed. “Those cops were really confused. They let us go because they didn’t want to deal with our band of misfit toys. Alright, I’ll stay.”

With a swift ‘goodbye’ and the slam of a steel door she was left, alone with Beau, Misty, and Moss. Jo had overheard the conversation and wasn't too happy about being trapped in what felt like a bunker. Much less so about her inability to find Madison but, given the events of the week, she was willing to rest even if it was in a sewer. At least, for a little bit.

The plane landed without another word exchanged between Madison and Harper. Both wanted to say something but not a word slipped through until the taxi reached Madi’s studio apartment. The first words spoken in almost three hours were: “You can sleep on the couch.” 

Harper opened his mouth but Madison’s raised hand stopped his words in his throat. She was too tired and annoyed to listen to his words without encouraging an outburst. It had been a long day, afterall. Two flights in only about fourteen hours was a rough experience for both of them. Instead, she simply closed the door to her room and buried her face in her white pillow until Elsa crept from beneath the bed to check on her housemate. With a little prompting, Madison conceded to giving the calico her desired head pats. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She couldn’t believe she had allowed the man who cheated on her so long ago to follow her into her safe space once again. It didn’t take a genius to see what he was trying to do. Her experience with romance writing told her to steer clear. Her experience with Harper told her that the writing was right. 

The streets were at their quietest at this time of night. Perhaps even the walls themselves needed to rest. Still, Silas’ mind remained racing in opposition to the stillness. Finding Elara wouldn’t be a problem, she could be called at any time. Matt was with her and so he wouldn’t be a problem either. Perhaps the stress about locating his friends was merely a manifestation of a different kind of pressure. Jocelyn was safe and as oblivious as ever. For that he was grateful. However, despite loving her company, she felt more like an intrusion. A break in the established system.

This system has worked great so far. He would scan the local newspapers all along the east coast for strange people. When one was spotted, he would then drive to pick them up. It was the same every time. He would introduce himself, they would be suspicious, he would tell them about the whole being from a book thing, and they would come with. Together, they would continue this process while staying under the radar. Sometimes they would break into maintenance rooms or unused storm shelters but, for the most part, they would simply sleep in the van. Living like nomads. Silas liked it this way. Staying in one place only really brought pain. However, he knew Jo was not the same as he was. That was already quite clear. Sure, she liked to run away from her problems but that tended only to be a retreat before running into them head on. That was the difference between her and the others. That was the difference between her and Silas. 

He sighed. Sure, it was nice to walk in the darkness but his bones were beginning to grow cold. He knew this jaunt had to end here. Kneeling in the moonlight, face to the heavens, he whispered to the stars. “Hear me, O’ Warrior. It’s time to come home.”

With his words, the stars began to shine imperceptibly brighter. Now, he only had to wait and, once again, his mind wandered. This time he shut these thoughts down. He no longer felt like hearing them out. Perhaps their sting would come later but later was better than now. For now he was choosing to be content. 

Jo paced the former maintenance room, her legs and hands restless despite her lack of sleep. She had sat for a total of five minutes before the containment had gotten to her. Moss allowed his eyes to trace her movements for a couple minutes in a slight trance. When his focus broke, he addressed the young woman. “Jo?” 

She stopped and turned to him with a false smile. “Yes?” 

He gave her a look that said he knew more than he let on. “What do you want?” 

Jo furrowed her brow and pushed her glasses back onto her face, finger print smudging her right lens. “What do you mean?” 

“Jo, you have been pacing for the last twelve minutes. Why?” 

She sat down in the chair closest to her new friend and used the bottom of her dress to wipe at the thumb print but only succeeded in spreading the mark across the glass. “I don't want to just sit around here. Look I get it’s safe and I get there aren't many places to go but-” 

Moss put his hand on her shoulder. “Look, you are restless and I get it. Try and relax a little, talk to me.” 

He shifted his chair and faced her. He pulled a small handkerchief from a near invisible pocket in the jumpsuit and placed it in her hand. “Tell me about where you are from.” 

She took a lawn chair from across the room and placed it next to his. Sitting down, she applied the gray cotton to the thin rimmed glasses that were now in her hand. “I'd…rather not.” 

He shrugged in indifference and took a more comfortable position with his back pressing the chair taut. “Alright, if you want I will go first.” 

She nodded and Moss took a deep breath. “My story started at the air force academy but I will spare you the details on that. All you have to know is that a lot of things happened, blah blah, then I was chosen to pilot a space mission. Now, I had never been to space so this was too good of an opportunity to pass up. So, after not even two minutes of thinking I said yes. They told me the mission was one that included surveying a moving black hole. Now, being as dumb and young as I still am, I said ‘of course, it would be an honor.’ So almost a year of training later, I left earth. Spent about two years in cryo snooze and woke up near our target. About two weeks in we came into contact with an asteroid that killed all of the crew aside from moi. This, in turn, caused the ship to start to drift toward the black hole which our doctor, Marco, had nicknamed Maria or Sorrow. B*****d of a Spaniard. I still miss him even now. He is actually the reason I have the nickname ‘Moss’. That is a hell of a story in itself. We were in the service together and had gone through the same bootcamp. One day, we were out on a run. I was not really the fastest in the group and lagged behind. Well, the drill sergeant thought it would be funny to make me lick moss off a rock because “Rollin’ stones don’t gather no moss, Private. I want you to be just like that rock by the end of camp: rock-free.” 

Anyways, I digress. Where was I? Oh, right, the incident. So, when a smaller asteroid hit the ship it boosted me into Maria. Just as I crossed the event horizon I believed that nothing that had occurred was truly real and I kinda just woke up. The kicker is that I was sent flying through the roof of an apartment in Little Rock, causing this.” 

He patted his leg. “That's my story and that's why I am sitting with you now. Sorry if I bored you.” 

Jo caught herself staring into space and quickly brought herself back to earth. “Oh no, you didn't bore me. That was fascinating. I have never actually heard anything like that before. It's just all so hard to believe.”

 Moss chuckled. “Get used to it Jo, I am not the only one with a strange story. You will find that, despite all of our differences, we all have one thing in common.” 

Jo leaned forward. “What?” 

Moss gripped his cane with white knuckles and matched her posture. It was in a whisper that he continued. “We have been broken. Chewed up by some horrible event and spit out. I say this as a warning. Some of us are more broken than me and I advise you to tread lightly.” 

He gestured to Beau and Misty as he spoke. “Do you understand, Jocelyn?” 

She nodded, solemn. 

“Good, but do not take this the wrong way. I do recommend talking to them about their lives. They are quite interesting and you might possibly learn something.” 

Jo looked to Misty who was already knee deep into another drawing of the strange thing from earlier. Eyes on the girl, she spoke to Moss. “What about her?” 

He shook his head. “Her’s is one of tragedy,” He spoke to Misty, “Hey, honey? Mind if I tell this young lady your story?” 

She didn’t answer save a single nod. “To do her story justice we need to start at the Winter Solstice, 1984. Misty’s tenth birthday.” 

Jo looked at the little girl on the floor. “1984? If she was ten in 1984 then she should be about… 40-ish? That doesn’t make sense.” 

Moss leaned back again “Time has no power over this situation. If it did, I would be two years old in August this year. Now, may I continue?” 

Jo nodded and Moss began to speak once again. “It was the Winter Solstice, 1984 and Misty was turning ten. She received many presents like a bike and a magic eight ball but what she truly wanted, out of everything in the entire world, was to meet an alien. The next night, under the lamp in her room, she asked the magic eight ball if she could meet one and it said ‘yes.’ At that moment there was a flash of light outside her window. She inspected the phenomenon that appeared to be an alien escape pod and, within the green light, lay Luihfobijeraefemp or ‘Lump’ for short.” 

Misty perked up at the mention of her extraterrestrial friend, laying down the crayon. Moss picked her up and put her on his lap. “To most rational human beings, Lump would have frightened or terrified them, but to Misty he was beautiful.” 

Misty held up the drawing of Lump and pointed to the glowing orb floating above its body “My friend. He was cool!” 

Jo smiled but the smile began to quickly fade. “Was? Did he leave?” 

Jo looked to Moss for the answer. “Remember when I said we were all broken? Lump was this breaking point for her. Over the next month, or so, Misty taught Lump about being a human. She taught him how to ride a bike, use a shower, and even how to draw. In return, it told her all about his home planet and what it was like living among the farthest stars. He told about how he was stranded on earth and Misty promised to help repair his ship. Now, she was no fool. She knew that if other humans saw Lump they would hurt him or worse and so she kept him hidden in her parent’s basement.” 

Misty nodded “He liked it down there. He said it reminded him of home.” 

Moss looked at her “Yes, honey, you did a very good job taking care of him.” 

His eyes grew sad as he turned back to Jo, “Sadly, it was in vain. One fine afternoon she took him out to show him the woods not far from her house. They were watching a deer when there was a gunshot from a ways off. Lump did not make a single noise when he… when he…” 

The little girl held on tight to her drawing, Jo could tell she was trying hard not to cry and was failing. “Well, a short while after that, Misty ran into the woods blinded by tears. As she ran, she was hit by a low hanging branch that sent her flailing onto her back and out like a light. She woke up among the trees once again but this time it was in the William Penn state forest in Pennsylvania, where Silas and I found her.” 

Moss began to gently braid Misty’s hair as she cried into his jumpsuit. “Now you see. We have seen the ugliness of life. But here we are now, pushing away this hand dealt to us, just as you have.” 

Jo could do little but look at the drawing clutched in Misty's hand. “You asked me earlier what it was that I wanted and, at the time, I was not quite sure. But, what it is that I want is to find Madison Wood. She is my author and, before this she was looking for me, but I want to confront her on my terms.” 

Moss looked concerned “You want to confront the woman who damned you to whatever fate she had planned? The very person you both knowingly and unknowingly fought to escape?” 

Beau stood from his chair in the corner and made a swift approach. Moss held up his hand, halting Beau where he stood. Jo looked at the tall boy and saw an unspeakable terror in his eyes. She, in turn, felt similar horror. Off put, she turned to Moss for an answer. Instead, it was to the boy that he spoke. “Beau, it will not be like last time. That was a mistake. This young woman knows about whom it is that she speaks, you did not. We have discussed this. You could not have predicted that. You could not have stopped it either, he was a sick man.” 

This was enough for Beau to skulk back to the corner which he had been sitting in before. Moss glanced back at Jo. “We will discuss this with the others when they return. For now, relax the best you can.” 

Jo looked back at Beau “But what-” 

Moss cut her off, a certain pain hiding beneath the surface of his voice. The pain of knowledge. “Not now, Jo. Rest. We will discuss this later when everyone is present.”

Harper never made a habit of looking through someone’s private things but a small photo album shoved under the couch, on which he lay, caught his eye. Detritus and dust bunnies brushed aside, he could read the words ‘I Will Never Forget You’ sprawling across the cover in bright blue Impact font. Flipping it open he was almost sucked into a sea of memories. The first page was inhabited by a picture of three people next to a ferris wheel. Three smiles of pure joy. There was Cami with her dyed blond braids with an abnormally large funnel cake in hand. He could remember that she would always order a sugar abomination called ‘Dream Ultimate CheeseCake Surprise’. they would laugh and joke about its elaborate and absurd nature. She used to swear that it would make her live forever. Ironic. 

In the center was a face that he saw in the mirror everyday with a haircut that he had hoped would never see the light of day again. A mullet never suited him but college sophomore Harper thought it was the coolest thing he had ever worn. His eyes followed young Harper’s arm as it wrapped around the shoulder of a young woman. She had never really changed. Despite having baggier eyes and lighter hair, Madison looked as she had 26 years prior. The only key difference was a smile. She was always pretty when she flashed that uneven and toothy grin. She never wore it anymore. Like a warm leather jacket gathering dust in the corner because the owner thought it was out of style. He smiled, amused at this long gone vignette of beautiful naivety. 

Flipping further into the book he saw several happy memories of a similar fashion. Study sessions where they would get nothing done, school awards for each of them, and even that time they visited a petting zoo. A particular favorite of his was a well timed photo capturing the exact moment that Cami got bucked off the saddle of a white pony. As he flipped further, his hand stopped at a strange sight: a small picture torn into several pieces and shoved deep into its pocket. Pulling out the pieces he could make out a familiar scene: a ferris wheel with three people standing beside it. This time he could only count two smiles of pure joy and one of forced happiness. There he was again with his hair shorter and significantly more tame than before. As usual, his arm was wrapped around the shoulder of a girl. Cami had a smile of ecstatic happiness as she had the arm of her boyfriend wrapped around her and Madi… did not. Written in black pen was the date: August, 1999, and the description: This will be the greatest year of our lives!

Jo didn’t know when it was that she had nodded off to sleep but when a knocking on the metal door  sprung her from her slumber, it was made clear to her that she had been sleeping in a terrible position with her legs over one side of the chair. Her back hurt like hell from being curled like a croissant but she chose to ignore it in favor of running to the door. Sliding aside the steel slot, a familiar face greeted her. Over Silas’ shoulder were two other faces that she had yet to meet. Presumably, they were the ‘others’ that he had left to retrieve. “What's the password?” 

Jo smiled, amused at her own joke. Another voice answered, a woman whose voice was strong enough to make Jo’s heart rate jump when she opened her mouth. “Thou art not funny. Let us in, woman.” 

Silas leaned close enough to the slot so that he could whisper without anyone else hearing. “Do what she says otherwise she’ll bust it down. Please.” 

Jo nodded and fumbled with the latch for a second before opening the heavy door. Silas stepped through while the woman who spoke to her earlier, and a younger man shorter than Jo by only about a couple inches, walked closely behind. With a flourish that didn’t remotely befit the entrance, Silas proclaimed: “Ladies and gentlemen, We have returned.” 

Silas raised his arms in a joking manner and Jo was pretty sure she was the only one who found it remotely funny. He was the only one who laughed. Lowering his arms, he stepped further into the room allowing the other two enough room to maneuver. The woman began to remove the cloak she wore revealing dazzling armor with shoulders the size of Jo’s head, the kind that should have been in a museum, and had shorter hair the color of freshly fallen snow.  The other, a boy no older than Beau, appeared to be shaking violently for seemingly no reason at all. While the woman stood examining Jo, the boy took a few tentative steps before collapsing under the weight of the stale air onto a corner cot without saying a word. He moved next to Jo “So, this brute in full plate armor, which she refuses to remove for any reason besides to polish it every once in a while, is Elara Stargazer.” 

He motioned to the tallest one in the room who gave him an indignant sniff. “A brute I am not.  Shouldst thou name me this again, it shall be thy arms that shall take the fault.” 

Elara turned to Jo, her hulking form towering over the curly haired upturned eyes. Jo tried her best to not be intimidated but, when it looked like her arm was the width of Jo’s torso, her efforts were useless. Silas started to sweat a little as he stepped between them. “Yes, well…I- uh” 

Elara laughed, a hearty and joyous sound, and all of the lights in the room seemed to dazzle brighter in the immense depth of her golden eyes. She hit Silas on the shoulder in casual fashion sending him stumbling to the wall. “I jest, thou art much too delightful. Mine name hath been dragged through thicker mud. Tis an honor to make thine acquaintance, Mistress Thatcher.” 

Stepping back, she knelt before Jo in a much more graceful fashion than should have been possible for a person of her size. Unsure how to respond, Jo curtsied with the grace of a dog stuck in a muddy puddle and mumbled something along the lines of “Y- uh you too. I mean happy to… meet you. Yeah…”

Once she stood once more, she moved past the short, by comparison, woman, to a chair next to where Silas was nursing his shoulder. Seven feet and 400 something pounds of muscle and armor were cast onto a chair that looked like it very much would have preferred to fold in half and yet the universe fought relentlessly to keep it upright. Silas took the following silence to mean that she was done talking and continued to point at the lump of a human that still had not moved from its place on the bed in the corner. “And the- uh… human jenga tower over there is Matthias or Matt for short. Be careful around him, he’s what you would call an empath. Don't worry, he has a great metaphor to explain it and will never hesitate to tell it to you when asked. Really, he won’t. As if we haven’t heard the story a thousand times.” 

Jo looked at him trying to wrap her mind around the concept all while ignoring his last statement. “I didn’t think that empaths existed outside of movies and stuff.” 

Silas looked back to her, the coals of a dying fire making themselves known in his large, blue eyes. “None of us should exist out of movies and stuff. That's the problem Jo.” 

Silas began to put his coat back onto the rack in the corner, making sure to hang up Elara’s large cloak, which was really the entire hide of some poor brown cow, alongside it. Jo opened her mouth several times, and made several false starts, to say something before she finally found the words that she had been searching for. “I…we need to go to New York.” 

Although her voice seemed to die at the end, the message made it across perfectly clear. Silas finished putting up the coats and turned to her. “What? Why?” 

Jo felt herself begin to panic a bit but took a deep breath. Then another. “I need to go to New York. I… we need to find Madison Wood and fix what happened to me.” 

Silas’s face suddenly lost all expression. His cheeks began to grow pale. “Madison Wood…” 

Jo took a step to the side and grabbed her arm. Just keep breathing, Jo.

“My- my author she, um… She needs to fix this. Yeah, yeah.” 

Where there had been silence there suddenly noise stood. It felt as if even the walls had decided they were part of the conversation. Silas took her other arm.“No, no way. Not a chance.” 

Moss stood up next to her and tore away Silas and held his shoulder. “She has to, Ph-Silas.” 

Silas shook his head, pulling away from the kind man. “That is the dumbest idea I have ever heard.” 

Elara stood too, chair groaning in protest at the shift. “My agreement is with Sir Silas, tis not a suggestion of sense. There art no telling what would occur.” 

Matt rolled over in his cot in reaction, shoving the pillow over his downturned head. Jo felt as if she had suddenly been put upon a podium as the center of attention. Misty sat in silent wait as Beau began to make a move to be by Jo while still remaining at a distance, skulking silently. “What is so wrong with wanting to undo what happened? What is even going on? Why are you all acting so… weird, all of the sudden?” 

Silas’s gaze hardened. Jo didn’t know gazes could actually do that. “You want to go back to the woman who condemned you? She did this to you and what makes you think she won't do it again this time without you running away?” 

Jo felt her voice take on a new edge that had not been there before as she yelled back. The very act made him flinch. “How do you know she will?” 

It even scared her. The emotional side of her tended to do that. The last person that she ever shouted at was Phil and she apologized profusely after. No apologizing this time. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say.

She began to gesture at the others around her “How do any of you know? Have any of you tried? How many of you tried to fix what happened to you?” 

They all looked away from her, a guilty look in their eyes, as Beau raised his head, his hollow gaze meeting hers. She could see him biting his lip yet not a single tear fell. “I did. These people were with me.”

He shook his head as if trying to exhume a memory that ate at him like he was an apple and the thought was a worm. “Last year. His name was Francois Privalette and, at the time, he was working on his passion project: a book. He decided to call it ‘Gouttes De Sang’ as a testament to his own life. A testament to his pain. Every detail and flaw within the story reflected his own mangled mind. He modeled me after the son he never had and my situation after the life he had endured in his shattered dreams. A mystery of cruelty and deceit. A killer who was revealed to be my own mother. Six children before me died at her hand, their blood christening a house which was no home.”

Jo saw him begin to cry but only a sniff escaped as he regained composure and Beau began again. “I tried to end it all using the bridge just out of town but was instead saved by a cruel shift of fate. I didn’t ask to be saved. I didn’t want to be saved. I sought the man who had inflicted this plight upon my tired soul. After a couple weeks of searching, we found the enfoiré hanging from a ceiling fan in his run down house. So, don’t talk to me about grief. If you were there then you too would not want to go looking.” 

The silence was deafening as everyone was afraid to speak. Softly, a muffled voice arose from the bunk in the corner. “She doesn’t feel like that's gonna happen. The scent of determination is stifling.” 

Matt had rolled over to face the group, the head phones that were in his ears were now gripped tightly in his hand. “If we don’t help her she will do it alone and, if she does, who knows what will happen.” 

Misty shuffled to the group and held up a hand to Jo, grabbing her index finger. “I think we should help the pretty lady.”

Moss nodded, “Forgive me, Beau but this is the wisest decision. I understand how you feel about this but yours was a special case. Francois was always poisoned in the mind and not even you could have changed that. But if Jo still has a chance, which I believe to be true, we have to help her take it.” 

Silas held the bridge of his nose trying, and failing, to not get a headache. He could feel the pressure weighing on this one decision. Matt was right but so was Elara. It was a stupid idea to help but there's no other choice. Goddamn it, Jo. Why do you have to be so stubborn? You aren’t the only one hurting. 

He sighed and waved his hands. “Fine. Fine, if it's going to be like this. We’re going to New York. Start packing all of our stuff. We leave tomorrow. We'll take the van.”