GONE SERIES FANFIC-30 DAYS {ONE SHOTS}

Photograph

The pickups rusted frame rattled down the highway, the red paint job now flaking and corroded, replaced with a thick brown dust. Someone's finger had written 'wash me' on the back window, the letters smeared the dirt around with disgust. It then had been indignantly wiped with a rag, if only to be seen out of.

A rosary dangled from the crooked rear view mirror, and rattled about with every jostle, the tarnished figure pinned to a tiny cross spinning miserably. It clacked loudly against the dirt streaked windshield, catching the attention of the driver, and his eyes flitted to the Jesus pendant flailing about before returning to the highway.

It was once a desolate stretch of road, not far from the California coast line, cutting though what would become the Perdido Beach Anomaly and popping out the other side into Stefano Ray national park. Now, it was lined with a procession of buildings, chain hotels on one side, chain restaurants on the other. It really made you feel restrained.

Edilio stared ahead, a tight frown thin on his lips. The asphalt simmered before him, conceivably due to his gaze, but a watched pot never boils, which was why he focused so intently on his thoughts. He wouldn't want it to run away on him. The day was hot and heavy, and he reached over to crank the handle, until the sticky glass jostled into place and the window was down.

Wind blew in from the sea, it's salty moisture clinging to the rust eaten truck, and Edilio slammed one calloused palm on the faded dash board. The photograph fluttered, but was pinned to the dash by a waxy corner. He breathed a sigh of relief.

In his haste, he'd forgotten to break, and the truck skittered to a stop before a towering chain link fence, bristling with curls of barbed wire. The new FAYZ barrier. A surprised looking guard had narrowly jerked to the side, and Edilio yelled "Sorry, sir!" from his open window. Although glad no one was injured, Edilio fretted over not being careful enough. He just prayed he wouldn't be asked for a drivers license.

The guard encroached on the cabin through the window, hands behind his back as to not dirty his uniform on the truck while he spoke to Edilio. "The memorial is closed on weekdays."

"Yes sir," he began, searching for understanding in the guard. Today was the only day he had to do this. "but-"

"That's Monday through Friday," the guard insisted, as if Edilio didn't understand, stressing the words around the drivers noticeable accent.

Edilios warm graze was tense, and he bit the inside of his cheek. "Sir, I've lost people in there."

An aged rosary unceremoniously hanging from the rear view mirror caught the eye of the guard. "Wouldn't be the first I let pass..." He grumbled inaudibly, and disappeared to unchain the gate and wheel it off the highway.

Edilio riled up the pickup, and pressed the gas to the floor before the guard could say no. Familiar territory sped by and try as he must, Edilio couldn't look away now that he was back. For all he knew, it was months ago, and in the most appropriate seat was a literal shotgun, his begrudging company to whatever he'd have to do that day in the FAYZ.

The truck coughed into the square, seeming to grieve at the sight of the memorial. An irregular array of grave markers, strewn with flowers and gifts, some more abundant than on others. Still, all were kids who would never see the mourning, never see their freedom.

Edilio knew them. He'd dug most of these shallow graves, and although official looking stones replaced his shabby crosses, it hadn't changed that children were dead. It just dressed the fact up.

Edilio left the truck running, for fear of it failing to start, but the silence of a war zone was so deafening. He climbed out of the truck, the metal creaked but never splintered, taking the photograph with him in delicate fingers.

A bushel of daisies lay in his truck bed, and Edilio made sure he had them. Doing this in one take would be better than running back for the flowers, disgracing the ghost he'd meant to honor today.

On the steps of the ruined church, someone had erected a small stand. It was brimming over with flowers and candles, and plastered up and down with a backdrop of photographs.

Edilio approached it humbly, focusing on a small prayer to keep from the upset at the sight of this. The sorrow. In between a yearbook snapshot and a babies first picture, he pinned his own to the board.

Unlike most of the others, his picture was from the FAYZ, the barrier making the photo appear the slightest bit milky. A boy, hair tied in a long pony tail, waved with one paint stained hand. The other held a younger boys, who mimicked the wave. He looked skittish, almost hiding behind the taller boys leg in the face of adults he hadn't seen in a long time, but they were smiling gleefully.

Roger, and Justin, who could have been his little brother. It would have been Rogers only family, no matter how adopted, because Edilio was sure he was the only one leaving a photo there for his first real crush.

It captured Roger perfectly, his bravery in taking Justin to the barrier when he asked to look for his parents, the compassion in his smile, the protection in their held hands. There were a lot of reasons to fall in love with Roger.

Edilio just wished he'd been able to protect him, as courageously and as compassionately as Roger had protected Justin.

Edilios hands shook as he hastily left the daisies from his mothers garden, knowing he was on the verge of tears. His Roger couldn't be dead, but that was the only way to put that away from him. He doubted he'd ever move on, he doubted he'd ever accept that Roger was dead, but there was little more he could do than grieve.

A day later, he received a letter from the hospital, detailing that Roger was ok, and that he wanted nothing more than to reach out to Edilio. Roger was alive.