The Last Handful of Clover - Book 3: The Stone in the Stream

3.17 Homecoming

"The ghost," he croaked. "The one who... It wasn't Justin?"

Howard tried to speak calmly and gently, not wanting to trigger any more emotional pain in either of them.

"No. It wasn't Justin."

"You said it was a little girl?" Pil continued.

"Yeah. It was a little girl in a pioneer dress, like from a couple hundred years ago, maybe. I've seen her before. She's the one that helped Justin break out of the jail. I don't know much about her. But Justin called her Princess. I think she's... I think she's insane."

He expected Pil or Keith to ask more questions, but they didn't. Keith was more alert now, and he was gazing numbly at his burns.

"Maybe it is just a coincidence," Howard said, realizing he was chattering nervously. "That it was her, I mean. But I can't stop thinking that she was targeting us specifically. She knew I could see her. Before she ran, she looked at me, and said we were 'naughty boys.' But then she saw the tire iron and ran. I think she knows what it can do."

Keith was looking at Howard now, and it seemed that his mind had actually cleared better than Pil's despite (or perhaps because of) the obvious pain that he was in. Slowly, he extricated himself from the big man's grip, and the heavy, tattooed arms that had been holding him fell limply to the man's sides.

"Howard, what do we do now?" Keith asked, his eyes focused intently on his face. Howard thought it was interesting that Keith was asking him that question, rather than Pil.

"We do what we said. We get out of here. And we need to get you some help for your arms."

"But how can we leave now? Without a car?"

Howard sighed heavily. "I guess we'll have to get another. Maybe we can hot-wire one or something. Do you know how to do that?"

Keith smirked, but even that increased his pain. "Howard, I'm a librarian. That's not in my skill set, I'm afraid."

"Big Bird," Pil said. Howard jumped a little. He didn't think the big man was even aware of their conversation.

"Excuse me?"

"Our car. It's a big SUV. Michelle and I... we always called it Big Bird. It's parked in front of our house. It's only a few blocks from here. Just down the street from Keith and Richard's house."

"Do you have your keys?" Keith asked.

Pil felt his pocket. "Yeah. Right here. But Michelle said that it had even less gas than Richard's car. I don't know how far it will get us."

At the mention of Michelle's name, a wave of grief passed over Keith's face, and then immediately over Pil's face as well. They looked at each other, and then Pil pulled Keith's head down onto his shoulder, as if neither of them could bear to gaze for long at the pain in the other's eyes.

"The gas doesn't matter," Howard said quickly, trying to keep the conversation from getting mired back in their grief. "We get in it and go. We'll worry about the gas situation if and when we need to. No stopping this time. For anything, or anybody."

Howard felt suddenly relieved. Although both of the two men still looked dazed, he was no longer afraid that Keith was going into shock, or that Pil was going to sink into catatonia. It looked like they were both able to walk, and that they had pushed down their grief far enough that, at least for now, they could function. Survival made enormous demands on the human psyche, and he felt lucky to have found two men who might just be up to that demand. Pil was holding Keith's right, undamaged hand, and Howard realized that any strength they were finding at this moment, they were finding in each other.