Cogent

TWENTY-SIX

         

Kaleb wasn't in the shed the day that Jen sent Noah away. He'd snuck out to go to the park and when he returned, his brother was gone. Noah always came to the shed at night to give Noah snacks and talk. They weren't afraid to be around each other then. In fact, Noah was the only one who had never been afraid of him. Kaleb never felt like a killer when his brother was around. But with Jen, the guilt just wouldn't stop.

"Get away from me!" she screamed for the tenth time as he pulled her down the street. It was two in the morning and the only people out were either drug dealers or drunks. No one paid any attention to them as they walked—no, hobbled—downtown like a couple of transients fresh out of rehab. That's how Jen looked, anyway. And he wasn't much better.

Kaleb was trying to get to the school, hoping his instinct was wrong that his brother would be there. There was just one nagging doubt that kept pestering him. Noah always came back. Sometimes it took hours, sometimes days. But he always came home. It didn't matter that 'home' was now a pile of burnt timber. Noah knew how to find them.

"Where's Derek?" Jen demanded, shoving Kaleb's hands away. He let her go and she stumbled forward. "Where's Noah? What are you doing? Let me go!"

Kaleb grabbed her arm again and pulled her in the direction of the school. This would be a lot easier if she wasn't resisting him every step of the way. He wanted to tell her to stop it, to let him help, but he couldn't say anything. It was impossible to know if a single word would blast her body into a million pieces. Like Leon—and he wasn't even the first. No, Kaleb couldn't risk it. He'd rather drag her for twenty miles in total silence to her protests than hurt her. The guilt of killing both parents would destroy him. So he kept walking, dragging Jen along. She hated him, but she was weak enough that it didn't matter. He would get them both to the school and Noah would find them and everything would be okay. It had to be.

***

"Are you sure?" Tess asked doubtfully from the other side of the bathroom door. "Brad can help. I'll even blindfold him if that makes you feel better."

"I can do it." Noah insisted, shrugging out of his clothes like a lizard sheds its second skin. He hadn't taken a real shower—the quick rinse after Leon's death didn't really count—in a week. Old paint, road dirt and oil stained his skin in patches. A glance in the mirror gave him reason to cringe. He looked like some strange, emaciated cow. It's a good thing Tess's mom didn't see him like this. She'd come home and left again without even knowing there was a stranger in her home.

Sliding the glass door aside, he stepped under the hot stream of water and let out a cry of relief, yelping from pain and comfort at the same time.

"You okay?" Tess called.

"I'm good," he hollered back, pressing his hair against his scalp to squeeze away the grime. It felt so good to stand in the steam, breathing it in and letting it course over his tender skin. Everything hurt. Muscles, flesh, bone. This was the first moment in which he could consciously relax. Smiling, he grabbed the soap and started scrubbing every inch of himself, leaving no skin untouched by either his hands or the washcloth Tess had given him when she showed him how the shower worked. Being clean was the best feeling in the world.

Noah stayed in the hot water for so long that he started to get a headache from the steam. He reluctantly switched off the water and stepped out, enjoying the feel of cold air on his face. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he looked at the clothes Tess had taken from Brad's room. She said her brother wouldn't mind but Noah had his doubts. It was pretty clear that Brad wasn't totally sold on letting Noah stay. Glancing up, he caught his reflection in the mirror. He looked like an addict. Skin and bones and sunken eyes. Who could blame Brad for being wary of that kind of face?