Brian Freeman - Thief River Falls

“I thought the Dark Star was me,” he murmured in a strangled voice. “I really did. I thought I was the curse, that I was the reason they all died.”

“There’s no such thing as a curse,” Laurel told him.

“Well, I didn’t believe that. I thought if I left, the tragedies would go away. And instead this happens. I leave Lisa and Harlan alone, and this happens. My God.”

Laurel saw something different in Noah’s face. Maturity. He’d aged more than just a year in the time he’d been gone. For a man who was nearly forty, he’d been mostly a child his whole adult life. With each loss in their family, Noah had grown more vulnerable, forcing his sister to shoulder the burdens by herself. Lisa had always been the strong one. But that was then. Laurel was staring at a new man. He was torn apart by guilt, but he wasn’t running anymore.

She took Noah’s elbow and led him down the gloomy hospital corridor. The overnight lights were turned low. They reached the empty room where she’d confronted Lisa earlier in the evening, and she stopped, because Noah needed to see it.

“He died here,” she murmured. “This was Harlan’s room.”

Noah stepped inside. His gaze was drawn to the bed, and he inhaled sharply. “That poor, sweet kid.”

“I know.”

“What did my family do, Laurel? How did we piss off God like this? I can’t believe it. I can’t believe the Dark Star took Harlan, too.”

“Lisa put him on a DNR order about two weeks ago,” Laurel told him. “She wanted him to go peacefully. And he did. He passed away two nights ago in her arms. We’d known it was likely for some time, and I’d tried to get her ready for it, but some things you can never really be ready for. After the boy died, Lisa was alone with the body, and she had — well, she had a breakdown. She wrapped up Harlan in a sheet and took him away from the hospital. She took him to the cemetery. She dug up the ground above Danny’s grave, and she put Harlan there with his father.”

“Of course she did,” Noah murmured. “That doesn’t surprise me at all. God, I can’t imagine this. Lisa must be going through hell. I need to go to her. Where is she? Is she at home?”

Laurel hunted for a way to tell him. To explain. She felt choked for words, and Noah realized in her silence that something was very wrong.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice darkening with worry. “What’s going on? Tell me.”

“It’s not over,” Laurel murmured.

Noah took her by the shoulders. She could see panic rising in his face. “What are you saying?”

“She needs you, Noah,” Laurel told him. “She needs you right now. The Dark Star isn’t finished. It’s trying to take Lisa, too.”

The lights of the police cars flashed through the church windows above Lisa’s head and lit up her face. She sat on the cold floor, her back against the wall, with a loaded AR-15 rifle draped across her knees. She wouldn’t let it out of her hands. Her finger hovered near the trigger. The police could storm the church at any moment, and she needed to be ready to fire.

Purdue sat beside her, cross-legged, his hands neatly folded in his lap. He looked calm and unafraid, and she wished she could be like that herself. Her nerves were raw. Her muscles twitched uncontrollably. She could feel something black and ugly lurking in the shadows. It reminded her of the old Japanese fairy tale about the boy who took refuge in a church and drew cats on the walls to keep away a monster. Except there were no cats with them now. Just the monster, ready to come for her. That was okay. That was fine. The monster could have her, but she wouldn’t let him have Purdue.

She knew they were in their final moments together. She hadn’t had the courage yet to tell him that he would have to go and leave her behind. It was the only way to save him. And yet the boy was wise, and she suspected that he already knew the truth.

“There are a lot of people outside,” Purdue said.

“You’re right.”

“Do they have guns?”

“Yes, I’m sure they do.”

“Are they going to come inside?”

“Maybe. At some point. But before that happens, I’ll probably have to go outside myself.”

“Why?”

“To give you a chance to escape.”

“But how will you get away?” he asked.

She smiled at him, hiding her sadness. “Don’t worry about that. That’s my problem, not yours. The main thing is for you to get to Canada. That’s what your mom wanted. That’s what I want for you, too. She was right. Canada is so pretty. It’s wide open, and there are mountains and lakes and waterfalls and forests. It’s like heaven. You’ll see. It’s just like heaven.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere without you,” the boy told her. “I want to stay right here. Can’t we just talk to them?”

“No. It’s gone too far. The only thing we can do is save you. You’re not going to die, my sweet. I promise you that. You are not going to die.”

“How will I know when it’s time to go?” he asked.

Lisa tilted her head and cupped her hand behind her ear. “We have to listen. There will be a train whistle. You can’t miss it from here. It’ll pass by on the other side of the field behind the church, and it’ll be heading north. It’ll take you up into Canada. The train stops here as it’s coming into town, so you’ll be able to hop on board. Can you do that? When we hear the train whistle, you’ll need to slip out the back door and into the trees. No one will see you. And then you have to run, Purdue. Run until you get to the train, and then you just climb on and never look back.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll make sure no one follows you,” Lisa said. “That’s my job. To protect you.”

“When we hear the train whistle?”

“Exactly. When we hear the train whistle, you run. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” Purdue replied, but his lips puckered unhappily. “Why can’t you come to Canada, too? You could come with me.”

“Well, you can look for me up there,” Lisa said, “and one day you’ll see me.”

They sat for a while longer in silence. Whenever there was a noise outside, she tensed, expecting the doors to burst open, expecting the assault to come. She prayed they would wait long enough for the train to arrive first. After that, nothing mattered. She shivered, because the monster in her head was getting bolder, getting closer, enveloping her in a dark cloud. She felt its breath on her neck like needles of ice.

“Lisa?”

“Yes?”

“Can you tell me a story?”

“Sure. I can do that. What kind of story would you like?”

“Tell me about the book you wrote. Tell me about Thief River Falls .”

“That’s a book for adults, my sweet,” Lisa murmured. “Not for children.”

“Tell me anyway. Please. I want to know what happens before I go.”

Lisa reached out and put a hand over his. “Okay. I can tell you the story if you really want. Thief River Falls is about a lost boy. Remember? I called him Purdue, just like you. And it’s the story of a lonely woman, too. A lovely, lonely woman.”

“What’s her name?” Purdue asked.

“I called her Madeleine. I named her after my mother.”

“Was your mother lonely?”

Lisa smiled. “Oh, no. Not really. I mean, sometimes I’m sure she was, because she was very far from the place where she grew up. But that wasn’t why I used her name. I use real names in my books when I want to feel close to the characters as I write them. And there was no woman I felt closer to than my mother. We were the only two girls in the family, so we had to stick together. Plus, my mother was the kind of person who would do anything for others, and that’s what my Madeleine — the one in the book — is like, too.”