The Last Handful of Clover - Book 3: The Stone in the Stream

3.17 Homecoming

June 16, 9:27 am

Howard knew instantly, as they left the devastation at the Sinclair station, that he had a serious problem on his hands.

Keith was almost catatonic and was only being kept on his feet because Pil had one arm looped around him and was hugging him tightly against the right side of his body. But even though Keith looked numb and unresponsive, Howard was more worried about Pil.

The big man's spirit had been broken by the death of his wife, and Howard thought he actually looked somehow much smaller, even frail. He still towered over them both, but that tower seemed now more like a crumbling monument.

They left the conflagration in a run, but they hadn't gotten more than a block before Pil slowed to a shuffling, almost zombie-like gait. Howard knew that if he didn't get them all off the street soon, it was likely that Pil would just sit down on the curb and refuse to move, leaving them vulnerable to whatever predator ghost wandered by.

The refuge they found was an unlikely one. It was an Einstein Brother's bagel shop on the corner of South Temple and E street. It had been looted and all the windows were busted out, but the structure was still relatively intact. And most importantly, there was a long counter inside, behind which they could get out of sight.

To his relief, neither Pil nor Keith argued as he guided them into the building, and then helped them ease down behind the counter.

Instantly, both men allowed the tears that had been blocked behind the shock to emerge. Keith buried his face under Pil's massive chin and wrapped his arms around the big man's chest, looking as if he wanted to literally crawl into the big man's body and disappear. Pil, for his part, squeezed Keith to him so tightly that Howard worried he might crack the smaller man's ribs. But at least (to his relief) they both sobbed silently.

Howard himself felt lost and embarrassed, as if he shouldn't be part of this scene at all. The two men were so overcome by their shared grief that just being in the same room felt like a violation of their intimacy. Howard had barely known Michelle, but as he pictured her, and remembered the way she had instantly and instinctively trusted him that night on the porch, he felt as if one of the few friends he had in the world had been taken away.

But despite his grief, he wanted to shake the two men. To tell them (and himself, as well) that they needed to pull it together if they hoped to survive this. But Keith was whimpering now, and he realized it wasn't only from the grief. Keith's arms were both burned, but his left one had born the worst of the fire. It was red and raw, and long stretches of skin had either burned away completely, or were nothing but bubbled masses of blisters, blood, and charred bits of fabric from his shirt.

Both Howard and Keith were shirtless now, but Keith looked particularly vulnerable because of it. The chubby man's hairless torso was round and soft, and Howard imagined that he seldom went without his shirt. He looked as if he wanted to fold his arms around his chest to hide the roundness of it, but his arms were so burned that to cross them would have been absolute agony, so he held them aloft, with his hands supported on Pil's shoulders.

Slowly, Pil's head tipped back, leaning heavily against the back of the counter. His eyes looked empty and hollow, as if there was nobody at home in the big man's soul. Eventually Pil looked down and saw Keith's arms, and he wordlessly began to shake, as if he was at a loss for what to do. Keith was shaking now as well, and might be going into shock. In a cabinet under the counter Howard found an old apron and tried to cover Keith's burns, but the touch of the cloth was too much for him, and he cried out.

Maybe that's a good sign, Howard thought. The man is still together enough to respond to pain.

Pil finally looked up from Keith and his eyes focused. He seemed to be replaying what had happened in his mind.