Ricky could smell coffee. He wasn't really awake, but he could smell coffee. Had he made coffee? Had someone made coffee for him? His eyes slowly adjusted as he squinted at the light coming into the room from a tiny window and he groaned. His head...god his head hurt. Had he been out drinking? Had he hit his head on something? None of this made sense. The last thing he could remember was...and then he saw them. Wyatt and a woman standing in front of him, each sipping from a coffee mug.
"He's awake," Wyatt called over his shoulder.
"Good morning!" Angie replied happily, "do you want coffee?"
Ricky growled and started to shake in his chair, tied firmly and tightly to it.
"Let me fucking go this instant you goddamned lunatics! What the hell is wrong with you?!"
Angie pulled back and shook her head.
"He doesn't get coffee," she said, Wyatt nodding in agreement.
***
"Well," Dr. Warner said, "I really don't want to tell you this, but we have a problem."
Since the crash, once a week, Kelly had been going back to her doctor because her left leg wasn't healing correctly, and today, she was especially worried. See, Dr. Warner had called her the night before and asked her if she could come in a bit earlier than usual, and he'd never done this before, so it concerned her. Now, sitting in his office in her hospital onesie, she knew that bad feeling in her gut was for the right reasons.
"What kind of problem?" Kelly asked, her voice meek.
"Well," Dr. Warner said, "looking over your x-rays, I mean, this thing is bad. The muscle is dead, and the bones aren't setting right. Your must've landed on it when you fell from the sky. Now, consider yourself lucky. I know this sucks, but if this is the only negative outcome of surviving a plane crash, I think you're still coming out ahead."
Kelly shifted uncomfortably and nodded, swallowing anxiously.
"So...so what do we do?" she asked.
She didn't like the answer he gave her. Afterwards, when she was going through a nearby drive through to get lunch, all she could think about was how unfair life was. Sure, she'd survived a plane crash, but now she was losing something else. It seemed like life was always out to take something away from her the moment she started to feel good again, and in those times of need, she turned to comfort food. Sitting in the parking lot a few minutes later, eating her burger, all she could think about was how she needed more than comfort food. She needed comfort friends. Kelly pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number. It rang a few times, and then finally an answer.
"Hello?" Rachel asked.
"What are you doing?" Kelly asked.
"I'm actually on my way to a friends, are you okay?" Rachel asked.
"Can I come?" Kelly asked, and Rachel hesitated, then said okay, and gave her directions to Calvin's.
***
Wyatt entered the kitchen to find Calvin looking through the fridge. Calvin handed Wyatt a slew of items - lunch meat, cheese, condiments - before shutting the door and turning to the bread box, retrieving a loaf. Wyatt set all the stuff down on the counter near the bread and then refilled his coffee mug. Calvin started to fix a sandwich while Wyatt sipped from his mug, his back against the counter.
"Are you making him lunch?" Wyatt asked.
"I have to do something, we can't just starve him," Calvin said.
"It's a good thing your folks went out for the day," Wyatt said, "otherwise they might be curious why you have so many people over."
"If anything they'd be thrilled. Happy to see me being social," Calvin said, "though, truth be told, you aren't exactly the people I want to be social with."
"That's fair," Wyatt said.
The two men stood there in the kitchen, each opting not to speak instead. Calvin's folks had come home in the early afternoon, but then both had their own plans for the day, so the gang was able to continue about their business unquestioned. Wyatt drank from his mug and watched Calvin make the sandwich, and thought about how Calvin used to be a dad. Probably made school lunches, same as he did on the daily. In truth, Calvin probably weirdly enjoyed making lunch for someone. The front door opened unexpectedly and that caught Wyatt and Calvin's attention. They both stiffened up and Calvin grabbed a large knife from the block off the counter, only to see Rachel and Kelly enter.
"Oh," Calvin said, lowering the knife, "it's just you."
"Jesus, who were you expecting?" Rachel asked, "what's going on here that's got you guys on edge?"
Calvin and Wyatt exchanged a look, and Calvin plated the sandwich, then motioned with his head for Rachel to follow him to the shed. Wyatt sat down at the table and continued drinking, as Kelly poured herself a cup and sat down across from him. Once the sliding glass door shut, Kelly looked up at Wyatt, who was looking down at the newspaper, and she blushed. Wyatt finally looked up from the newspaper and smiled at her, and she blushed harder.
"I saw the doctor today," Kelly said.
"Yeah? How'd that go?" Wyatt asked.
"Not good," Kelly said, "I was going to talk to Rachel about it, but it seemed like she was needed, so. Anyway it's bad. They're gonna give me a fake leg."
Wyatt put his mug down and folded his arms on the table, squinting at her, confused.
"What?"
"My leg is dead," Kelly said, "it isn't gong to get better, so they're going to schedule me in for amputation and an artificial replacement. I guess, in a way, that'll be cool. Be part cyborg. I don't know, I'm trying to see the upside to losing a limb but it doesn't feel genuine."
"I think that's pretty rad," Wyatt replied, "just don't use your newfound robot powers for evil, okay?"
Kelly laughed and nodded. She'd meant to talk to Rachel, but in all honesty, Wyatt was the better choice. He always managed to make her feel better. Rachel, meanwhile, had entered the shed with Calvin, and was watching him kneel in front of Ricky to hand feed him the sandwich. Rachel sat on the workshop table and shook her head. Of all the things to be involved in, now they had entered the kidnapping phase. Calvin waited for Ricky to finish chewing, before giving him a drink from a water bottle.
"This is ridiculous," Rachel muttered.
"See, she gets it," Ricky said, "she sees how insane this is."
"What other choice did we have? He had Wyatt backed into a corner, he was giving up information," Calvin said, "besides, for what it's worth, Wyatt wasn't the one who did this. That honor goes to that nutjob girl he brought with him. I'd say that to her face, but frankly I'm kinda scared of her."
"She is offputting isn't she?" Ricky asked.
"Hey, you're not part of this conversation," Rachel said, glaring at him.
"I AM the conversation!" Ricky shouted, as Calvin stood up and put the bandana back around his mouth. Rachel laughed as Calvin set the remainder of the lunch on the table beside her and wiped his hands on his pants. He then walked to a small box and pulled it down from the shelf, unlocking it. Rachel picked up the remainder of the sandwich and started eating it, while Ricky protested with muffled yells.
"Right after the crash," Calvin said, "I came here, and I sat down and I took this box down and opened it. I couldn't stop thinking about all the people I'd hurt, unintentionally or otherwise. I killed Grudin because he killed my wife and daughter, but his kill count is two. Mine far exceeds that now. That makes me sick. I thought maybe Wyatt was right about me the whole time, and maybe I am the problem, so I took this out," he said, retrieving from the box a small pistol, continuing, "and I was ready to put an end to it all. Then I was called and told that Kelly survived, and that...that made me feel like less of a monster. But now, maybe we need this for something else."
"We can't just keep killing people, Calvin," Rachel said, talking while eating, "leaving a body trail is how serial killers get caught."
"I'm not a serial killer. I'm a domestic terrorist at this point," Calvin said.
"No argument here," Rachel mumbled.
"But maybe I can make up for it, by removing the problem," Calvin said, aiming the gun at Ricky, who's eyes widened in fear.
"Calvin," Rachel said, hopping off the table and grabbing his arms, "hey, this isn't...no. What happens when someone comes looking for him? You gonna take them out too? There's always gonna be another person. It doesn't end until we are caught, and you know how we get caught quicker? By killing people."
Rachel slowly lowered Calvin's arm, and Calvin sighed, sitting on a nearby stool. Rachel took the gun from him and set it on the table as Calvin buried his face in his hands and started to cry. Rachel stood there, rubbing his back, reassuring him. He'd helped get her medication, the least she could do was bring him some sense of comfort. After a few minutes, Calvin wiped his face on his sleeve and shook his head.
"Sometimes," Calvin said, "I wonder if I died at some point, and this shed is actually hell. All these horrible things that have happened in it or come out of it. Maybe this is my punishment. But...you wouldn't be in hell, so I guess that kind of defeats that theory."
"I think me being in hell depends on who you ask," Rachel said, "I am queer, after all."
Calvin chuckled a little and that made Rachel feel a bit better.
"Still," Calvin said, "it feels like I'm being eternally punished for something I'm not even sure I did. My family was taken from me and this is my afterlife? Sickening. You'd think things get easier but...I think, Rachel, some people aren't meant to have it easy and some people aren't mean to be here that long. I just want to be with them, I miss them so much. My daughter deserved a chance at life, and that fucker Grudin took it all away from her, ruining so many people in the process while he continued to get to campaign and work in politics. That's not the kind of man I want representing the people when he's the one hurting the people."
"I don't think anybody is gonna argue with you about Grudin," Rachel said, "but right now let's focus on the problem at hand, and that's what to do with him."
Rachel and Calvin both glanced back towards Ricky, who now had a rather somber look on his face. He was beginning to understand the reality of the situation.
***
After all was said and done, Wyatt took Angie home, Rachel and Kelly went home in their respective vehicles, and Calvin's parents eventually returned home that night. Sitting at the dinner table with them, pretending everything was fine and normal, that he didn't in fact have a hostage just outside in the shed, was eating away at him. But he ignored it. He laughed at his dad jokes and he complimented his moms cooking. He thought about, briefly, calling his sister but he didn't know what to say even if he did. Would she even answer? She was prone to not responding, after all. Calvin helped clear the table, helped put away leftovers, and even did all the dishes. After his folks watched TV in the living room for a bit, they retired to the bedroom, and that left Calvin all alone.
He sat in the living room, flipping through television channels, unable to focus on anything for more than scant seconds. He was still drinking coffee, which he knew he shouldn't be considering how late it was getting and how badly he'd sleep if he didn't stop, and his thoughts turned back to Grudin. Back to the man in the shed. Calvin finally stood up, finished his coffee and headed back to the shed. He unlocked the door, tugged it open and then flipped on the light. Ricky was still awake, still staring at the door. Calvin dragged a stool across the floor and set it in front of Ricky before taking his seat on it. He then reached forward and pulled the bandana off his mouth.
"...something doesn't add up," Calvin said, "why would they send an investigator out to gather facts about the crash? That isn't how airlines work. All their investigations are done internally. I didn't say anything earlier cause I didn't want to worry the others, but explain that to me."
"Well aren't you a genius," Ricky sneered, "yeah, you're not wrong. It is unusual isn't it? That's exactly what I said."
"Which then begs the question, who are you actually here for?" Calvin asked, and Ricky smiled weakly.
"You kill a man and you think his family won't be curious?" Ricky asked, causing Calvin's blood to run cold; Ricky cleared his throat and shook his head, his hair matted with sweat as he added, "his wife knows something ain't right about it. I mean, Brighton blows up a man and then doesn't stick around to take credit? Something about that whole situation didn't work."
"No, it didn't."
"Couple that with the fact that Brighton offed himself before Grudin's demise, that was suspicious as hell too," Ricky said, "so what you're looking at here, from an intelligent persons perspective, is a conspiracy of sorts. And she saw right through to that. She knew it was bullshit. The more she dug, the more she questioned, the more she realized something was wrong."
Calvin chewed his lip, and was afraid to ask, when he already knew the answer.
"It's his wife, isn't it?" he asked, and Ricky smirked.
"Ding ding ding! We have a winner!" Ricky said loudly, "you want the prize behind door number 1 or number 3?"
"Then I guess," Calvin said, scooting off his seat and standing up, pulling the pistol from the table and looking at it, "I'll have to take what he took. I didn't get a wife or daughter, neither should he. I guess, if what I have to do is finish what I started, then I guess that's what I'll do, and if everyone sees me as a monster, then that's what I'll be."
Ricky had to admit, that hadn't been the response he was expecting.
"Wh...what?" Ricky asked, as Calvin approached the shed door, pulled it open and flicked out the light.
"Goodnight," Calvin said, "Sleep good."
"Wait wait wait, dude, wait!" Ricky shouted, "Wait!"
Calvin shut the door.
"He's awake," Wyatt called over his shoulder.
"Good morning!" Angie replied happily, "do you want coffee?"
Ricky growled and started to shake in his chair, tied firmly and tightly to it.
"Let me fucking go this instant you goddamned lunatics! What the hell is wrong with you?!"
Angie pulled back and shook her head.
"He doesn't get coffee," she said, Wyatt nodding in agreement.
***
"Well," Dr. Warner said, "I really don't want to tell you this, but we have a problem."
Since the crash, once a week, Kelly had been going back to her doctor because her left leg wasn't healing correctly, and today, she was especially worried. See, Dr. Warner had called her the night before and asked her if she could come in a bit earlier than usual, and he'd never done this before, so it concerned her. Now, sitting in his office in her hospital onesie, she knew that bad feeling in her gut was for the right reasons.
"What kind of problem?" Kelly asked, her voice meek.
"Well," Dr. Warner said, "looking over your x-rays, I mean, this thing is bad. The muscle is dead, and the bones aren't setting right. Your must've landed on it when you fell from the sky. Now, consider yourself lucky. I know this sucks, but if this is the only negative outcome of surviving a plane crash, I think you're still coming out ahead."
Kelly shifted uncomfortably and nodded, swallowing anxiously.
"So...so what do we do?" she asked.
She didn't like the answer he gave her. Afterwards, when she was going through a nearby drive through to get lunch, all she could think about was how unfair life was. Sure, she'd survived a plane crash, but now she was losing something else. It seemed like life was always out to take something away from her the moment she started to feel good again, and in those times of need, she turned to comfort food. Sitting in the parking lot a few minutes later, eating her burger, all she could think about was how she needed more than comfort food. She needed comfort friends. Kelly pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number. It rang a few times, and then finally an answer.
"Hello?" Rachel asked.
"What are you doing?" Kelly asked.
"I'm actually on my way to a friends, are you okay?" Rachel asked.
"Can I come?" Kelly asked, and Rachel hesitated, then said okay, and gave her directions to Calvin's.
***
Wyatt entered the kitchen to find Calvin looking through the fridge. Calvin handed Wyatt a slew of items - lunch meat, cheese, condiments - before shutting the door and turning to the bread box, retrieving a loaf. Wyatt set all the stuff down on the counter near the bread and then refilled his coffee mug. Calvin started to fix a sandwich while Wyatt sipped from his mug, his back against the counter.
"Are you making him lunch?" Wyatt asked.
"I have to do something, we can't just starve him," Calvin said.
"It's a good thing your folks went out for the day," Wyatt said, "otherwise they might be curious why you have so many people over."
"If anything they'd be thrilled. Happy to see me being social," Calvin said, "though, truth be told, you aren't exactly the people I want to be social with."
"That's fair," Wyatt said.
The two men stood there in the kitchen, each opting not to speak instead. Calvin's folks had come home in the early afternoon, but then both had their own plans for the day, so the gang was able to continue about their business unquestioned. Wyatt drank from his mug and watched Calvin make the sandwich, and thought about how Calvin used to be a dad. Probably made school lunches, same as he did on the daily. In truth, Calvin probably weirdly enjoyed making lunch for someone. The front door opened unexpectedly and that caught Wyatt and Calvin's attention. They both stiffened up and Calvin grabbed a large knife from the block off the counter, only to see Rachel and Kelly enter.
"Oh," Calvin said, lowering the knife, "it's just you."
"Jesus, who were you expecting?" Rachel asked, "what's going on here that's got you guys on edge?"
Calvin and Wyatt exchanged a look, and Calvin plated the sandwich, then motioned with his head for Rachel to follow him to the shed. Wyatt sat down at the table and continued drinking, as Kelly poured herself a cup and sat down across from him. Once the sliding glass door shut, Kelly looked up at Wyatt, who was looking down at the newspaper, and she blushed. Wyatt finally looked up from the newspaper and smiled at her, and she blushed harder.
"I saw the doctor today," Kelly said.
"Yeah? How'd that go?" Wyatt asked.
"Not good," Kelly said, "I was going to talk to Rachel about it, but it seemed like she was needed, so. Anyway it's bad. They're gonna give me a fake leg."
Wyatt put his mug down and folded his arms on the table, squinting at her, confused.
"What?"
"My leg is dead," Kelly said, "it isn't gong to get better, so they're going to schedule me in for amputation and an artificial replacement. I guess, in a way, that'll be cool. Be part cyborg. I don't know, I'm trying to see the upside to losing a limb but it doesn't feel genuine."
"I think that's pretty rad," Wyatt replied, "just don't use your newfound robot powers for evil, okay?"
Kelly laughed and nodded. She'd meant to talk to Rachel, but in all honesty, Wyatt was the better choice. He always managed to make her feel better. Rachel, meanwhile, had entered the shed with Calvin, and was watching him kneel in front of Ricky to hand feed him the sandwich. Rachel sat on the workshop table and shook her head. Of all the things to be involved in, now they had entered the kidnapping phase. Calvin waited for Ricky to finish chewing, before giving him a drink from a water bottle.
"This is ridiculous," Rachel muttered.
"See, she gets it," Ricky said, "she sees how insane this is."
"What other choice did we have? He had Wyatt backed into a corner, he was giving up information," Calvin said, "besides, for what it's worth, Wyatt wasn't the one who did this. That honor goes to that nutjob girl he brought with him. I'd say that to her face, but frankly I'm kinda scared of her."
"She is offputting isn't she?" Ricky asked.
"Hey, you're not part of this conversation," Rachel said, glaring at him.
"I AM the conversation!" Ricky shouted, as Calvin stood up and put the bandana back around his mouth. Rachel laughed as Calvin set the remainder of the lunch on the table beside her and wiped his hands on his pants. He then walked to a small box and pulled it down from the shelf, unlocking it. Rachel picked up the remainder of the sandwich and started eating it, while Ricky protested with muffled yells.
"Right after the crash," Calvin said, "I came here, and I sat down and I took this box down and opened it. I couldn't stop thinking about all the people I'd hurt, unintentionally or otherwise. I killed Grudin because he killed my wife and daughter, but his kill count is two. Mine far exceeds that now. That makes me sick. I thought maybe Wyatt was right about me the whole time, and maybe I am the problem, so I took this out," he said, retrieving from the box a small pistol, continuing, "and I was ready to put an end to it all. Then I was called and told that Kelly survived, and that...that made me feel like less of a monster. But now, maybe we need this for something else."
"We can't just keep killing people, Calvin," Rachel said, talking while eating, "leaving a body trail is how serial killers get caught."
"I'm not a serial killer. I'm a domestic terrorist at this point," Calvin said.
"No argument here," Rachel mumbled.
"But maybe I can make up for it, by removing the problem," Calvin said, aiming the gun at Ricky, who's eyes widened in fear.
"Calvin," Rachel said, hopping off the table and grabbing his arms, "hey, this isn't...no. What happens when someone comes looking for him? You gonna take them out too? There's always gonna be another person. It doesn't end until we are caught, and you know how we get caught quicker? By killing people."
Rachel slowly lowered Calvin's arm, and Calvin sighed, sitting on a nearby stool. Rachel took the gun from him and set it on the table as Calvin buried his face in his hands and started to cry. Rachel stood there, rubbing his back, reassuring him. He'd helped get her medication, the least she could do was bring him some sense of comfort. After a few minutes, Calvin wiped his face on his sleeve and shook his head.
"Sometimes," Calvin said, "I wonder if I died at some point, and this shed is actually hell. All these horrible things that have happened in it or come out of it. Maybe this is my punishment. But...you wouldn't be in hell, so I guess that kind of defeats that theory."
"I think me being in hell depends on who you ask," Rachel said, "I am queer, after all."
Calvin chuckled a little and that made Rachel feel a bit better.
"Still," Calvin said, "it feels like I'm being eternally punished for something I'm not even sure I did. My family was taken from me and this is my afterlife? Sickening. You'd think things get easier but...I think, Rachel, some people aren't meant to have it easy and some people aren't mean to be here that long. I just want to be with them, I miss them so much. My daughter deserved a chance at life, and that fucker Grudin took it all away from her, ruining so many people in the process while he continued to get to campaign and work in politics. That's not the kind of man I want representing the people when he's the one hurting the people."
"I don't think anybody is gonna argue with you about Grudin," Rachel said, "but right now let's focus on the problem at hand, and that's what to do with him."
Rachel and Calvin both glanced back towards Ricky, who now had a rather somber look on his face. He was beginning to understand the reality of the situation.
***
After all was said and done, Wyatt took Angie home, Rachel and Kelly went home in their respective vehicles, and Calvin's parents eventually returned home that night. Sitting at the dinner table with them, pretending everything was fine and normal, that he didn't in fact have a hostage just outside in the shed, was eating away at him. But he ignored it. He laughed at his dad jokes and he complimented his moms cooking. He thought about, briefly, calling his sister but he didn't know what to say even if he did. Would she even answer? She was prone to not responding, after all. Calvin helped clear the table, helped put away leftovers, and even did all the dishes. After his folks watched TV in the living room for a bit, they retired to the bedroom, and that left Calvin all alone.
He sat in the living room, flipping through television channels, unable to focus on anything for more than scant seconds. He was still drinking coffee, which he knew he shouldn't be considering how late it was getting and how badly he'd sleep if he didn't stop, and his thoughts turned back to Grudin. Back to the man in the shed. Calvin finally stood up, finished his coffee and headed back to the shed. He unlocked the door, tugged it open and then flipped on the light. Ricky was still awake, still staring at the door. Calvin dragged a stool across the floor and set it in front of Ricky before taking his seat on it. He then reached forward and pulled the bandana off his mouth.
"...something doesn't add up," Calvin said, "why would they send an investigator out to gather facts about the crash? That isn't how airlines work. All their investigations are done internally. I didn't say anything earlier cause I didn't want to worry the others, but explain that to me."
"Well aren't you a genius," Ricky sneered, "yeah, you're not wrong. It is unusual isn't it? That's exactly what I said."
"Which then begs the question, who are you actually here for?" Calvin asked, and Ricky smiled weakly.
"You kill a man and you think his family won't be curious?" Ricky asked, causing Calvin's blood to run cold; Ricky cleared his throat and shook his head, his hair matted with sweat as he added, "his wife knows something ain't right about it. I mean, Brighton blows up a man and then doesn't stick around to take credit? Something about that whole situation didn't work."
"No, it didn't."
"Couple that with the fact that Brighton offed himself before Grudin's demise, that was suspicious as hell too," Ricky said, "so what you're looking at here, from an intelligent persons perspective, is a conspiracy of sorts. And she saw right through to that. She knew it was bullshit. The more she dug, the more she questioned, the more she realized something was wrong."
Calvin chewed his lip, and was afraid to ask, when he already knew the answer.
"It's his wife, isn't it?" he asked, and Ricky smirked.
"Ding ding ding! We have a winner!" Ricky said loudly, "you want the prize behind door number 1 or number 3?"
"Then I guess," Calvin said, scooting off his seat and standing up, pulling the pistol from the table and looking at it, "I'll have to take what he took. I didn't get a wife or daughter, neither should he. I guess, if what I have to do is finish what I started, then I guess that's what I'll do, and if everyone sees me as a monster, then that's what I'll be."
Ricky had to admit, that hadn't been the response he was expecting.
"Wh...what?" Ricky asked, as Calvin approached the shed door, pulled it open and flicked out the light.
"Goodnight," Calvin said, "Sleep good."
"Wait wait wait, dude, wait!" Ricky shouted, "Wait!"
Calvin shut the door.