Before You Go | A Prequel

3.9 | The Accident

"BUDDY OF YOURS?" inquired the off-duty officer as they reversed down the Robinson's drive. Charlie was still standing in the doorway of his house, and Nico watched him from the passenger seat of the patrol car.

"Uh huh." he answered. There was a dull ache in his chest as they drove away, and Pearlygate Pointe disappeared behind them. There was a part of him which longed to just return to the safety and security of Robinsons' house. To Charlie. He wanted to just sit with him on the steps in their comfortable silence, while Mrs. Robinson made hot chocolate at candlelight for his siblings, and Mr. Robinson made all of the calls he needed to make. Part of him just wanted to let them handle all of it. He was tired.

"Yeah, I figured. Didn't seem like family, the two of you."

Nico cut a glare at the man briefly before turning his attention back out the passenger window again. "We're friends," he said. Cheerful Charlie. "We're good friends." and so much more. "His family's really nice."

"Yeah, I bet. Seem like good people."

Tongue in cheek, Nico remained staring out the window. The Robinsons were in fact, good people. They were great people. But it wasn't like Officer Stilts would know that. He didn't know them. Just like he didn't know Nico and his family.

"Yeah," Nico said. "They are."

The ride through the storm-torn island was strange. It made Nico uneasy to see his hometown so dark and deserted. There were barely any other cars on the road— as he'd expected there wouldn't be, but there were no streetlights on either. Even the neon, red and white sign above Deedee's Diner was without power, and the place looked empty for the first time in Nico's life.

"Hey, so what about your sisters? And your brothers— sorry."

Nico glanced at the officer. He shrugged, awkward, "What about them?"

The man stroked his chin, "Ah, y'know... how are they holdin' up? How're they takin' the news and whatnot?"

The News. Nico hated that. Nobody ever referred to good news as 'The News' it was always something bad— like somebody dead.

"I mean... they're okay? I guess. I didn't tell them much, really," and that was partly because he didn't know much. "Could you, um... tell me more, actually?"

"Ah," Officer Stilts furrowed his brow as he drove, keeping his eye on the road, swerving every now and then to avoid a fallen branch or other piece of debris littering the street, "Right. Well uh, to be honest with you— it's not my case either, and I'd hate to give you any of the wrong information. But uh... my colleague, Officer Clemens— you'll meet em' down at the hospital, or uh... I dunno, he might be back at the station now. I'll give em' a call. See what he can tell you."

"Right, but...," Nico trailed off, "I mean— is she alive? Or...?"

"Yeah?" the officer's voice rose an octave as he flipped a hand. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I mean. Well— they said they took her to the hospital. So, y'know."

Nico frowned. That didn't sound right. "I thought they take people to the hospital whether they're alive or dead? They took my dad to the hospital. He'd been dead for hours."

Officer Stilts gave a short, nervous laugh. "Right. Yeah, sometimes, that's how things are done. Sorry," the man swallowed hard, "But yeah, I'm sure they'll be able to give you some more information when we get there."

Nico resigned himself to the fact that he wasn't going to get much of anything worthwhile out of the officer, so he sat back, and he tried to think. He tried envisioning a plan— any plan. The future. What was life going to look like now? He would have to stay home. He would have to keep raising his siblings. Somebody had to take care of them. Maybe forever now. Or at the very least, until Gus and Ellie turned eighteen. They would be seven in August, so that was— eleven years. Add four more for college. Fifteen. Nineteen plus fifteen. Thirty-four.