Step Children

5.

"You're fired." Mr. Montgomery pounded his fist on his desk. "Three days, no-call no-show. I can't have people not showing up. It's as simple as that. Clean out your locker and get out."

"I need this job. I got bills to pay, man. Please don't do this to me," Scott said.

"You did this to yourself." He gestured to the door.

Scott scoffed as he left the office. His previous coworkers shot curious glances and spoke softly to each other until he caught them in the act and silenced them with a look. Like hens clucking in a henhouse.

Scott grabbed what little tools he actually owned and left. The Trans Am started with no problem, and he cast a strained and soon-to-be arthritic middle finger meant for Montgomery as he drove out of the parking lot.

Back to the hunting lodge then. The volume on the radio was cranked, and he discovered a Zeppelin cassette in the tape deck. "Stairway to Heaven." This Thursday was turning out alright after all.

Brian's Cobalt was parked in the driveway when he arrived. Scott pulled alongside him onto the grass in front of the skewed barn.

"I think I've figured it out." Brian said.

"What is there to figure out? Ain't you ever heard of 'letting sleeping dogs lie'?"

"I'm not wrong about this. Just hear me out."

Scott let out a sigh and gestured for him to follow.

They sat at the kitchen table. Same chairs as before, same dust.

"You're a Phoenix."

"A what?"

"A Phoenix. I'm right about this."

"What in the hell is that?" Scott said as he rested his elbow on the table, staring at Brian.

"Your grandpa didn't fail. He succeeded. Phoenixes need to die before their abilities come to life. There's only been one before and he was terrible. That's why some of the first Constructors created Reapers. They're the exact opposite of a Phoenix. But now Reapers are getting out of hand and they are the ones that need to be stopped. Your grandpa must have really trusted you."

"So you think I gotta die to have these kind of powers?" Scott asked.

"That's right, and you're going to have to, because this unless you stop this Reaper, no one will. They call him the Widow-Maker. He only kills men with families, like your grandpa. If you were ready, you could have stopped him from—" Brian cut himself off.

"Wait just a minute here. So I could have stopped him before he killed my grandpa? I could've saved him?"

Brian stammered. "Uh... maybe.... bear in mind I could be wrong about this whole thing." He said this with a tone that implied he hoped he was.

"I wish you'd never said that."

"...Me too."

Scott stared forward, focusing on nothing in particular. His palms, flat on the table, twisted into white-knuckled fists.

"I'd like you to leave now. This time for good," Scott said without turning his head to Brian.

Nothing pleased Scott more than seeing that Cobalt pull out of his driveway. He sat on the porch step, cigarette cradled in his lips.

A spark flared into a flame that he held to his cigarette. He put the lighter in his pocket as he pulled a drag.

His opposite hand clenched his knee. The volume felt on full blast. The notion that his grandfather could have been saved was inescapable, and exhausting.