The Haven

Chapter 3

"This is exactly what he was always saying."

Aunt Rita's voice returned to it's usual grumble in time for the funeral. Standing in the driveway of Nikolai's parents' house – well, now his house – having come to "comfort" him before heading to the cemetery, her lips were pinched, her eyes were sad and her head shook, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth as she spoke. But her grumbling critique was back to full force.

"This is exactly what he meant," she said, shaking her head.

Nikolai snorted. "I don't think this is what he had in mind."

"No, this is exactly it, Nik," she said, turning back to her car as Nikolai locked up the house. "They should have flown. Driving all that way! What were they thinking? I just can't imagin–Nik?" Her car keys dangled in her hand. Her head swiveled around as she looked about, realizing her nephew wasn't following.

Nikolai had turned to his own transportation. His hand paused on the silver handle of his parents' – now also his – old and beat up VW bus. He paused only for a moment. He shook his head without looking up at his aunt and pulled open the unlocked door.

"You can't drive that," his aunt protested.

"I have my license, you know," Nikolai looked up and leaned back against the open door. His arms were crossed over his chest. He glared at his aunt.

"No, I mean you can't drive that." Aunt Rita looked at the van as if the army of zombies was about to pile out of it.

Nikolai didn't answer. He gritted his teeth and got into the van. He slammed the door behind him, not bothering to lock it.

The bus was never locked. It didn't need to be.

The sky-blue relic was no getaway car, and the two uncurtained windows didn't show anything to tempt theives. The red poppy petals painted on every side couldn't camouflage the rust stains or the crumpled dent on the driver's door, and the general clunkiness of the old thing didn't promise much functionality under the hood.

But it worked perfectly.

Though it sat in the driveway most days of the year (far back in the driveway behind the house, under the ginko trees, and always covered in leaves and bird shit,) it rolled out with ease. Nikolai watched a brown leaf fly up and away as the car purred down the quiet streets through the center of the town of Nathaniel towards the cemetery on the other side.

Nikolai's mother kept her home perfect.

The blue, poppy-painted van hadn't been his mother's home in a long time – not since her college days paying tuition with braided twine and gemstones sold out of its cloudy windows. But she always kept the old workshop and house-on-wheels in working condition. Despite the rust and the crumpled door on the outside, the inner workings had never been allowed to fall into disrepair.

A dreamcatcher still hung from the window. It swung gently as Nikolai turned into the cemetery. When he got out and slammed the door, the dusty, feathered web shuddered.