chapter Three
They’d only been signaled once before, on the night Ellie died. Yet, near dawn, three loud stomps sounded on the hatch of the cavern.
Liberty and Nathaniel were halfway down the corridor when Katie hurried out of her chamber, Gabriel close on her heels.
“What is it?” Katie asked.
Liberty looked at Nathaniel. “It has to be Mitch.”
Becky wouldn’t come if it weren’t an emergency.
“Everything’s good,” Nathaniel addressed Katie and Gabriel. “Rest for your trip. Go ahead. We need to see what’s going on, but we’ll be back as soon as we can.”
Liberty swore Katie sneered before she and Gabriel disappeared into their room without another word.
Giving Becky a five-minute head start to walk back, they surfaced and headed for the farmhouse.
After they’d arrived and emerged from behind the partition, they stood face to face with a disheveled looking Becky. Her damp hair stuck to her forehead and her eyes bloodshot. She looked much older than her thirty-seven years.
“Oh no,” Liberty choked out. “Is he—?”
“No,” Becky interrupted. “It’s not that.”
“Good.” Nathaniel’s shoulders relaxed. “I…we were worried.” He gave Liberty a half hug. She relaxed a bit, too. Maybe Mitch felt desperate, like he was almost out of time and needed to finish his story from earlier. Maybe wanted to show Nathaniel the pictures.
“I’m warning you two,” Becky whispered, “the old man isn’t happy.”
“No?” They asked at the same time.
Becky shook her head, looked over her shoulder toward Mitch’s room, “Uh uh. I’ve got no idea what it’s about, he just told me I needed to get you both, then shooed me out like a fly in the fridge.” Eyes downcast, she looked genuinely hurt.
“He’s just in pain, is all,” Liberty assured her. “Don’t take it to heart, okay?”
Becky liked everyone to think her skin was made of turtle’s shell, but in reality she was as fragile as an egg. She even sponsored an orphan in Ethiopia, sent money every month for his care. She’d shown Liberty some colorful drawings the child made her once, she’d had tears in her eyes as she traced the stick figures drawn in front of a block house and said it was her money that bought the crayons.
Liberty patted Becky’s arm as Nathaniel pulled her toward Mitch’s room. “It’ll be okay.”
Any notion she’d entertained about their summons being related to the picture show earlier evaporated as soon as she saw Mitch. Becky was right, he didn’t look happy. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was downright pissed. Tendrils of scarlet cut through his misty gray aura.
A couple of days ago she’d have said it was impossible for Mitch to look anything except close to death. Again, she’d have spoken in error because when they entered his bedroom, Mitch was dressed and sitting up in his chair. He wore a blue flannel work shirt with splotches of lavender paint up the sleeve, a pair of gray cotton sweat pants, and thick hunting socks on his feet.
His wardrobe looked comfortable, but his expression was stony. Icy blue eyes were fixed on them as they came through the door and she felt a temptation to look away. She had no idea what they’d done, but nonetheless she felt guilty. She guessed this is what the nurse meant when she’d told them to expect a surge of vitality near the end.
“Nate. Liberty.” He motioned them in with a nod.
Liberty took a deep breath, sitting on the foot of the bed, across from his chair.
Mitch gripped a paper of some sort in his hands. He looked at it and shook his head.
The silence was uncomfortable. He didn’t utter a word. He didn’t have to. He turned the paper around and the photo did all the talking.
Stunned, shocked, and everything in between, Liberty didn’t dare move. She saw Nathaniel out of the corner of her eye. The cords in his neck bulged against his skin.
“Got my second wind tonight and thought I’d do some putzing on the website. Figured I better check my messages while I was up to it, and look what waited for me.” Mitch pointed a shaky finger at the figure in the photo. “This one of yours, Nate?”
Nathaniel and Liberty leaned in to take a closer look. The lamp on the nightstand, near the head of the bed, cast a pale glow, but they couldn’t deny it.
Of course it was one of theirs.
Adrian, in Sasquatch form, stood like a dope with his mouth agape, staring at the camera lens. Liberty sat back, pulled the terry-cloth robe a little tighter around herself and nodded.
Nathaniel stared at the picture and shook his head in bewilderment, “I’ll be damned.”
Liberty’s train of thought jumped the track. Getting photographed had to be one of the worst crimes you committed against your colony. Sure, their cavern was a separate domain, not technically Proem, but rules were rules. He’d put them all at risk.
Adrian and his parents would arrive back at Proem in two nights, at the latest. If Cutler found out, Adrian might not be around on the third.
Mitch handed the paper to them, and she looked down at the photo again. That had to be the first night Adrian and his family had arrived. She peered at the background, trying to figure out where he’d been, but it was close-up and the all of the trees looked ordinary. It could have been anywhere. She looked at Mitch with an apology ready on her lips, and then he started to hack.
Adrian had broken the rules in a big way. When this photo got out they’d be stuck underground indefinitely. The idea of banishment irked her, upended their plans. She hoped Mitch knew of a way to stop the photo from being released to the public. At least for a while.
Mitch wiped his mouth with a hankie. “I’ve always had high hopes for you two.” He’d missed a spot near the corner of his mouth, and a few drops of pink spit lingered. Liberty couldn’t help but stare. It was as if the cancer wanted everyone to see it.
She and Nathaniel didn’t respond. Liberty’s cheeks flushed in shame because in his painful condition, Mitch also felt disappointed in them.
“I’m sorry for what Adrian did, but you know Nathaniel and I would never do anything so careless.”
Mitch raised his eyebrows. “He’s your responsibility, is he not?”
Nathaniel cut in before Liberty could give her own less than positive response. “You’re right. He is in my charge when he’s here. I’ll handle it. No need for you to worry.” Nathaniel looked at his hands. “Not right now.”
Mitch sighed, contemplated what Nathaniel had said. The pink spit made its way down his chin and Liberty wanted to reach over and wipe it off. She wished she could wipe off his insides, too.
“You do need to handle your business.” Mitch looked between the two of them. “But until I’m dead, you’re wrong if you think you’re not my concern.”
Liberty thought she caught a swirl of chartreuse in his aura.
“I got a plan up my sleeve for you two,” he said.
They nodded. No need to argue with a sick man. The man who looked out for them with a vengeance. Who kept up a website as a cover for monitoring Sasquatch hot spots.
The thought of him putting in the effort for them brought tears to her eyes. Liberty pulled a tissue out of the box near his pillow. She took out an extra one without hesitation and moved to wipe his face. He accepted the gesture.
She sat back down glad the sight of pink death was gone.
“A plan is good to have.” Nathaniel rubbed his hands together, appeared ready to tackle the problem. “Tell me what you think should happen. Is there a way to make this die down before it flares up to begin with?”
Mitch folded the paper and handed it to Nathaniel. “You go back and find out some details. After you get the information, send your people on their way and make sure they don’t return.”
Liberty sucked in a quick breath, slightly elated at the possibilities of not having to host them next time. She looked at Nathaniel. His mouth hung partly open, speechless.
“Don’t act surprised, Nathaniel,” Mitch said. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but every time they visit lately it seems an incident happens.”
Understatement of the century, Liberty thought. But she did feel bad for her husband since it made him feel inadequate, as if he couldn’t even govern his small space without issue.
Mitch put his hand to his mouth, looked like he was either ready to stifle a cough or a yawn, but then gagged. “You should go,” he managed. “I want to be alone.”