THIRTY-ONE
Mila
A manI mistake for Ozzie clasps me under my arm as I’m about to cross the threshold into my poetry class.
“I told you….”
My words are interrupted by an older gentleman’s low, gravelly voice. “Keep quiet and walk with me.”
My whole body erupts with shock, even as my brain denies that the older man who has me by the arm is the same man who knows me even better than Ozzie.
A man who is supposed to be dead.
“Khaz!” I squeak. I feel like my throat is on fire; it’s so tight with distress.
“Mila. I’m not going to tell you again. Be quiet and come with me.”
What I would do, if it were anyone but Khaz, is scream. Scream bloody murder until someone comes to help me. Khaz might be a ghost, so I should scream anyway because this ghost is kidnapping me.
“Am I being haunted? What the fuck is happening?”
“Kiddo. I’m not going to repeat it.”
The Khaz I know, the Khaz I trust, is here. Calling me kiddo, the same way that Carl called me kiddo last weekend at the Gwynn homestead.
This makes no sense. It can’t be real. Yet, the gruff man is marching me out of the classroom building as quickly as a snake winding its way left and right through the grass. Out front is a tan Toyota Altima idling with the door open.
“Get in, and I’ll explain everything.”
“My…my boyfriend is back there. He’s going to freak out when he figures out I’m not in class,” I blurt all this out before I allow my brain to fully process the fact that Khaz is alive. If this is Khaz staring back at me with those haunted eyes, then he has some explaining to do.
“Get in the car, and let’s talk. Then you can text your boyfriend, so he doesn’t worry.”
Shaking and crying for the second time in one day, I close the door of the Altima. When Khaz or his specter gets in the driver’s side and clicks the door shut, I blurt, “How are you alive? And how do you still have this car? I saw you drive it through the main gate at the Whitman compound? It was definitely totaled.”
Khaz scoffs. “So, you want to talk about car insurance right now?”
This guy. “N-no!”
A smile plays on his lips, and as he talks, he gestures with one grizzled hand. “Are you aware how many tan cars in this make and model are on the roads? This is my car of choice. Now, moving on.”
“I’ll say. How the fuck are you alive!?” I nearly scream the question.
Khaz puts the car in gear and drives toward the campus exit. He waits until we’re clear of the classroom buildings before answering. Without looking over at me and keeping his eyes on the road, he explains everything.
I twist the hem of my sweater in my hands, trying to control my shaking. I’m terrified, even though I don’t believe in ghosts…or demons…or visitations. What the hell is going on?
“It’s like this. I drove through the gate and started shooting bullets into the air. The goal was to create a diversion for you to get away. You saw them shoot at me, yes. But I was wearing armor and ran like hell in the opposite direction of the woods. They weren’t going to take the fight with me to the streets in front of civilians.”
I’m flabbergasted. My jaw hangs open. “I can’t believe you got away. It’s impossible!”
He smirks, waiting for a group of pedestrians to cross the main drag through downtown Pine Mountain. “People said the same thing about you. There were plenty of people who assumed you died in that shootout too. Nobody knew how fucking determined you were. Nobody but me, sweet pea.”
I turn to him and seethe. ”You could have shown yourself, told me then that you were alive instead of letting me grieve for an entire year!”
“It wasn’t safe for us to be seen together. The Whitman family has been in complete disarray, with captains and lieutenants trying to claim leadership. Crypto blames you. The foot soldiers don’t know who to take orders from. The guards figured out they’d been paid less than the private security firm and stopped working. It’s a mess, kid.”
I snort and look out the window as we pass the central downtown, rolling past the parks, schools, and city buildings. “I don’t fucking care. Let them all shoot each other.”