Three Converts

Part 43

We stayed at Annie and Gibby's house the rest of the afternoon and into the evening making plans. When we left, we decided to do so in shifts. Now that we were launching our plan, we couldn't be seen affiliating with Annie or Gibby. Rocco and Griffin left the house first, taking one route back to Sam's, Misty and I left twenty minutes later. "Look out for my parents and Sophie?" I asked, before I left. She nodded and hugged me tight. I felt like crying. I couldn't shake the feeling I was sending my dear friends straight into the lion's den. I told them as much and they laughed. "People have survived lion's dens before," Gibby said, patting my back. "We'll manage." I appreciated his confidence and tried to internalize some of it.

On the way back to Sam's, Misty and I whispered plans to each other. Part of our plan was to make friends with as many townspeople as we could. We'd needed people to care if we came up missing. We also wanted to have connections to employ the Robes who left the commune. And money. Part of our plan was to help assimilate the Robes as they came down the mountain by providing clothes and food. Housing would be harder, but we'd help where we could. "I have experience waiting tables," Misty said, "so I guess I'll start looking for a waitressing job. What about you?"

"I have no idea. I have zero skills." I moaned. "I'm so ill-prepared for the real world, Misty! What am I supposed to do?"

"You could apply with me! I can show you the ropes." I nodded. I had another idea, but no idea how I would ever pull it off. My thoughts were interrupted by shouts cutting the warm evening air.

"That's coming from Sam's!" Misty and I broke into a run.

We burst in the door just in time to see Rocco and Griffin wrestle Sam to the ground. He was obviously drunk again, and mad. Veins on his neck looked ready to split. His once charming eyes were glassy, furious. He looked like a wild bull. Griffin and Rocco had him constrained, but not without some battle wounds. Rocco had a bloody scratch by his eye that wasn't there when he left Annie's. Griffin, as usual, took the brunt of his dad's anger. His nose was bleeding and a purple bruise spidered out from his eye. "You!" I stepped back at Sam's accusation. "You stupid, dirty little bitch! You think you can get your hands on our money? I'll-" before he could go on, Griffin stuffed his forearm in his dad's mouth.

"That's enough, dad. Come on." His voice was calm, but there were claws in it. If his dad was acting like a wild bull, Griffin was a tiger. Quiet and serious, but ready to do damage at the slightest provocation.

The younger men dragged Sam into his bedroom and were gone for a long time. Misty and I cleaned up, wordlessly. She pretended not to hear my sniffling. I was glad Griffin was taking his time. When he and Rocco finally emerged I had pulled myself together. Griffin kissed me lightly on the lips and, though he had cleaned up, I could still taste blood. I pulled his face toward me and kissed his eye so gently, I wasn't sure my lips even connected with his skin.

"He's asleep," Rocco announced.

"How'd you manage that?" Misty asked. She was fussing over Rocco's scratch. He batted her away, but was smiling.

"Sat on him," Griffin explained. He looked exhausted and bedraggled, but he managed a laugh. We followed his lead and soon we were all laughing.

Griff's laugh slowed to a chuckle, then a sigh. "Sorry you guys had to see that." He turned his bruised face to me. "I'm sorry he said that to you. That's bullshit and it's inexcusable." I'd never heard Griff swear. Those tiger claws were still at the ready. "He's... a piece of work, that guy," he shook his head. That was one way to put it, I thought. He and Franklin would get along like gangbusters.

"Why was he so mad?" I asked.

Griff's head dropped back and he looked even more tired. "I had to tell him I couldn't give him any money for a while. I said I'd still take care of the house payments, but..." he shrugged. "He needs his drinking money, and I just cut him off." For the millionth time my heart broke at how my problems were seeping into Griffin's life. And Misty's, and Rocco's, and now Annie and Gibby's. Griffin shook his head at me like he knew what I was thinking. "No," he said. "Don't even think it."

We went to bed, solemn with the weight of the day. When Griffin started to pull out the trundle for me, I pushed it back in. I lay him on the bed and wiped the residual blood off his face. I kissed his bruises with a bit more pressure this time, but he didn't complain. Then I nestled into his chest and watched him fall asleep.

Eventually I fell headlong into slumber as well, and was relishing it, when Griffin sat straight up. "What is that? Lucy. Do you smell that?" His alarm was yanking me from sleep faster than my body or brain wanted, but I forced both to cooperate.

I sat up beside him and inhaled. "Yeah. It smells like..."

"Oh God-" Griffin flew out of bed. "Get Misty and Rocco!" I was much slower, but figured things out when he flung his bedroom door open and smoke spilled in his room. "On the floor!" I thought I heard him yell. I hit the floor and began crawling toward Misty and Rocco's room. The air was too thick to fit into my chest and my lungs rejected it over and over. I banged on their door with the palm of my hand, then my fist. Finally I reached up and twisted the knob.

They were sound asleep in their bed, tangled up so I'd be embarrassed if I'd had time to think about it. "Get up! Misty! Rocco!" I shook them even after their eyes were open. "We have to get out!" Rocco swore, but Misty was all business. She grabbed a neat pile of clothes beside the bed, handed Rocco his wallet, just calm as can be, though her eyes were wide and wild. "I wish people would stop trying to kill us," she sighed. They joined me on the floor and we made our way out. The smoke was becoming blacker. It was as hard to see as it was to breathe. At the front door, Rocco stood and felt the knob with the back of his hand. Wrapping his palm in his shirt, he twisted and we tumbled out. The smoke followed us, but compared to inside the house, the air was pristine.

I turned to Rocco. "Where's Griff?" I asked stupidly. In lieu of answering he grabbed Misty and I by our shirts and pulled us further away from the house. We stood in the road, and I took in the entire scene. The garage was in flames. Griffin's workshop. I made a run for it, but only got a few steps before Misty tackled me. "Sorry," she panted, laying on top of me. "You can't." I put my face in the gravely pavement and let it scratch my face.

"Oh gosh." She jumped off me and I looked up. Griffin was staggering out of the house, dragging his dad by the ankles. Rocco rushed to help him and for the third time that day, the two heaved Sam to safety. Misty held my hand, the way she did in the commune pit when we were terrified. She inspected Sam and I looked Griffin over. He seemed physically fine besides all the coughing. He was upright at least. Sam was in worse condition. I had to look away when I saw his skin bubbling up in fat blisters. Griffin looked toward the sirens heading our way. His gaze passed the garage, but he remained expressionless. When he caught his breath, he told us, "I think he set the fire, then passed out? I'm not sure. He was at the steps of the garage."

Rocco and Misty patted his shoulder. I wanted to comfort him, but everything failed me. Every word I came up with was useless. I watched the man I love stand in front of the blazing fire, his hard work, his art, his livelihood, feeding the flames, and I had nothing to offer him. But when he covered his face and wept, I could at least offer my solidarity. So together we cried for his loss.