They’d given chase, they said, when Jake and his crew – his team – had pursued Rooster and Red out of town. By the time they caught up, everyone else was gone, the forest disturbed by the wind from helo blades, and they’d loaded Rooster up in a truck and brought him back to town. To a safe place where he could wake up.
Rooster had a hard time believing it. He knew he was here, and that Red was gone, that these people had chosen to help him. But he didn’t understandwhy.
“Why?” he said aloud, stupidly, and shook his head in one last attempt to clear it. “I mean. Why would you do anything for me?”
They were seated around the kitchen table, Rooster on one side, opposite Jack and Dan, who shared a look now.
Jack turned then to Rooster, his look pointed.Come on, kid, it said. “I’m old, but I’m notstupid,” he said. “Who do you think we’re gonna side with here? The creeps who set up shop in our town, busted out the diner window, put a whole buncha innocents in danger andkidnappedsomebody? Or the fucked-up vet with PTSD and his girl?”
Rooster fought the urge to squirm in his chair. “You wouldn’t have to side with anyone.”
They both snorted in unison.
“Yeah,” Dan said. “Sure.”
Rooster swapped a look between them, and could find no lie. No hesitation.
“So like I said before,” Jack said. “What do you need? How can we help?”
It was…
Too much.
Rooster dropped his head into his hands, tried to massage some of the tension from his scalp. A fruitless effort. “I just…” he started, and trailed off. It was taking every bit of energy to think right now. To move beyond the awful, howling hurt and guilt that was losing Red. He’d failed her. Epically. And he couldn’t–
“Alright, look,” Jack said, leaning across the table toward him. “You’ve got to compartmentalize here. You’re no good to her if you’re freaking out like this. Breathe. Think it through.”
Jack took several slow, deep inhales and exhales, and after a moment Rooster found that he was copying the pattern.
“That’s right,” Jack said.
It was shameful, leaning on an old man like this, needing to be told how tobreathe, but it was the best he could do at the moment.
Think. He had to think.
He pushed out another shaky breath, and though it filled him with impossible guilt, he knew that he couldn’t do this alone. Not anymore.
He said, “I gotta make a phone call.”
~*~
“You gotta slow down,” Deshawn said on the other end of the line. “What do you mean theytook her?”
Rooster had badly underestimated how much it would shake his tenuous grip on sanity to hear his best friend’s voice over the phone. The story that he’d rehearsed in his head had collapsed the moment Deshawn said, “What’s up, brother?” and all Rooster wanted was for someone he cared about to tell him it would be alright. A childlike need for comfort.
He took a breath and leaned a little more heavily against the porch column. “They ambushed us. Took me out. When I came to, she was gone, and so were they.”
“Those Institute creeps? Shit. Okay, you’re gonna have to explain it, man.”
Slowly, shaking the whole time, he did. Peppered the story with self-inflicted insults. How fucking stupid he was for believing there was such a thing as a safe place for the two of them.
“I let my guard down,” he said, choking on the words, “and I let her–”
“Whoa. Okay, hold up,” Deshawn said, voice stern. “You didn’tletanything happen. Okay? If you thought these people were legit, then they were really smooth. They were really good actors. I know you, and you’re gonna spend the next two weeks beating yourself stupid about this, so save us the time and just don’t.”
Rooster let out a deep breath. “Fuck you.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re welcome for the free mental health advice.” A rustling in the background, papers shuffling. Deshawn had been retired and back home for a year now; he managed his own landscaping business. Had a warehouse where they kept the fleet of mowers and bags of mulch, and everything. “Where are you?”
