“More, Mom,” Alex says. “Your boys miss your cooking.”
Mom quickly obliges his request and fills his plate while my father laughs. My father loves this holiday time as much as we do. “I’m excited for Rafael,” Mom says after we all dig into our food again, “but I miss him so much this year. It’s off not having him here.”
The longing in her voice that day still haunts me. Missing that holiday still haunts Raf. Nothing haunts Alex. He’s dead, and apparently still proving he can fuck me over.
Pri trips and I catch her waist, holding her close, angry at my dead brother for playing a role in how she got here. Alex betrayed more than just me by giving up the cabin. He betrayed our promise to our father to treat the cabin as a family secret, our sanctuary.
When I’m certain Pri’s solidly on her feet, I catch her hand again and do the best thing I can to protect her. I get us moving again toward my sanctuary, the one I created after my parents were murdered. Someone betrayed my father, the way Alex betrayed me. My father, my hero, who was skilled and intelligent, fell to the enemy, one we never named. It’s a cold reminder to keep my guard up, and one that probably saved my life the night Alex died. No, I think, the night I killed Alex.
The rain wanes, but my anger and memories don’t. I’m back in the past again, back to that same Thanksgiving, the last Thanksgiving with my parents. When dinner was done, another tradition kicked in. Me, Alex, and Dad, all three of us FBI agents, headed out to the cabin, in what would be, as it always was, a chance to test our skills. One might think that made sense, us without Rafael, but we’d never been to the cabin without Rafael. For a long time, I’d wondered if his absence was why that day had felt off. Later, I knew better. Alex was off.
I’m back to replaying that day, to what told me he was off. We were at the back of the cabin where my father had designed a firing range and an obstacle course. I fade into the memory.
“Let’s see what you’re made of, boys,” my father says, motioning us to the stacked bundles of hay. My father’s a good-looking man, with tattoos on his arms, and a salt and pepper mix of thick hair.
Obediently, Alex and I line up behind the hay, ready to run the course.
Alex glances at me, a challenge in his eyes. “You want me to show you up first or last?”
I smirk. “Go for it,” I say, because yeah, he’s older, but I know my practice has paid off.
“Watch and learn, little brother,” he says and there is something in his tone I can’t quite name, but it’s my decision to make. I’m not coddling him today. I’m whipping his ass.
He masters the course with impressive skill and time, gloating as my father cheers his performance. I’m up next and I perform with the ease of a man who’s spent extra time out here that Alex hasn’t. When I’m done, beating him by considerable standards, I don’t gloat. I simply say, “How about a beer?”
Alex scowled at me, and to this day, I remember a glint in his eyes I’d never seen before. I didn’t understand it then, but I do now.
It was hate.
He hated me. I’m pretty sure he hated us all.
A loud clap of thunder jolts me out of my own head, and I can almost imagine it as my father, a roar of his distress over one of us killing our own. And yet, I did. I killed Alex.
Pri and I near the end of this section of the woods and another clearing we have to pass through to get to the safe zone. This will be the final obstacle I anticipate between us and our destination. The sky seems to know, too, groaning and then opening up and blasting us with another downpour. That downpour, I decide, is a blessing, offering coverage we might not otherwise have at our disposal.
I halt Pri at the line of the woods and pull us to a squat behind heavy foliage and flip off the light, shoving it into my pocket. For a good two minutes, I scan the surrounding area, looking for trouble that I know can’t be here. No one knows where I’m headed but Walker Security.
I lean into Pri and cup her head, lips at her ear. “Once we start running, do not stop for any reason.”
She nods and I scan one last time before I motion us forward and we dart into the clearing. Adrenaline pumps through me. I pull Pri forward, ahead of me so I’m the target of any bullet that goes flying. It starts to hail, pelts of ice punching at us, and Pri stumbles again. I catch her before she goes down and she rights her footing and like a good little soldier, keeps moving. The run is short, but it’s as if it’s in slow motion, never-ending.