Chapter 7

Cherie tried to hold Liam’s hand as they approached the restaurant, but he shook her off. She was seeing his angry “not a baby” sign more and more lately, a portent of the rocky teenage years that were closer than she liked to think about. He stomped off a few steps ahead, and Cherie had to stop herself from rushing forward to grab his hand and keep him close, or to reflexively straighten out his hearing aids. He was in a rotten mood after she insisted they leave Katsuki back at the shelter, and no logical arguments or promises that the nice staff lady would check on the cat could break through his sullen anger.


Well, she’d upended his whole life for reasons she hadn’t even fully explained to him yet, and his normal routine was in tatters. Of course he was acting out. He deserved a little space without his mom fussing over him.


She couldn’t depend on Liam for comfort, she reminded herself.


Instead, she ran a gentle hand through Aiden’s soft brown hair. He was back in the front-backpack carrier, facing forward, babbling “Donn! Donn!” and squirming—but she was selfishly glad that she had a good excuse to keep him close, at least for another few minutes. She wrapped her arms around him, kissed his head, and muttered “Soon, soon,” in a soothing voice into his hair, breathing in the calming scent of baby and no-tears shampoo.


Aiden jerked his head back and whacked Cherie in the jaw.


Okay, message received. Cherie turned her attention back to her surroundings, rubbing her jaw with one hand. They were supposed to be keeping a low profile—the lady at the shelter had seemed unhappy that they were leaving, but she’d just repeated the safety rules and let them go.


Rejected by both kids, she had nothing left to distract her from her thoughts. She kept glancing back and forth, scanning every person she passed for familiar faces. This road was too wide, with too many alleyways and cross streets—too many places someone could be watching her from.


She and Chris had lived in a nice little house just over the city limits into Farmingham, the neighboring suburb. They didn’t know anyone from this side of town or have any reason to come over here, though the border of Chris’s precinct was uncomfortably close, just three blocks away. They’d gotten off the subway one stop early to avoid getting near it, even though that meant walking six blocks instead of two. That probably wasn’t helping Liam’s rotten mood.


Part of her was terrified that this was some elaborate plan by Chris to find her and the kids and make them come back. But…no, that wasn’t his style. He was the kind of guy who walked through life in a straight line, charming or convincing or overwhelming everyone in his path. He never needed to sneak around or strategize—he made his choices, and the world fell into place around him.


If he found her, she’d know, because he’d be here.


Still, when she pushed the diner door open, she cringed at the sharp tinkle of the door chime. She felt the glances of the people inside like needles in her skin.


As she stood awkwardly in the entryway near the “Please wait to be seated” sign, she caught sight of the mail lady waving her over to a large booth in the back of the diner.


“Hey!” the woman greeted them with a big smile and gestured them into the booth. “Glad you could make it.”


“Thanks,” Cherie replied, suddenly hesitant.


There was already a high chair parked at the end of the table—the mail lady must’ve requested it. Cherie went through the motions of getting Aiden from the carrier to the chair—he squirmed a little, clearly wanting to run around, but when she passed him a few of his quieter toys, he settled down. He started rolling the little Duplo truck back and forth and crashing it into the edges of the tray, off in his own toddler world.


Liam clambered up to sit next to the woman, then glanced back at Cherie, suddenly shy of this stranger. Cherie gave him what she hoped was an encouraging nod and slid in next to him.


“Hey honey, what’s your name?” the mail lady asked Liam with a smile. Liam scowled and looked over his shoulder to Cherie, signaling “handle this!” without having to sign at all.


“Liam is deaf,” Cherie said simply. “The hearing aids are…a work in progress, and he won’t be able to understand you, at least not in a noisy place like this. I can interpret when you want to speak to him, though.”


As she spoke, she quickly signed to Liam.


<She just said hi and asked your name.>


Liam nodded in reply.


“Oh,” Zinn said and paused like she was thinking. Then she reached over the back of the booth to the waiters’ station and grabbed a pen out of a little can, flipped over her paper menu, and started to write.

Liam scowled and glanced back and forth between the two adults.

A few more moments of thoughtful scowling later, he continued,

Zinn wrote, though a glance at her face showed she was clearly amused at being scolded by a kid. 

Liam slowly read through the sentences, his finger moving along each word. He was a good reader for his age, but this was a bit complex for him. Cherie hesitated, not sure whether she should step in and help or let him work it out on his own—but while she was deciding what to do, he started to write in slow, careful letters.

“Sick?” Zinn asked, glancing at Cherie.


“He had severe meningitis two years ago. That’s when he lost his hearing.”


“Oh.”


A very long pause from Liam…

Zinn shook her head, then replied on the menu.

Liam wrote.

“Hi,” someone said, and they all looked up from the menu.


There were two people standing at their table—a 20-something Asian guy in a hoodie and jeans, and a tiny elderly lady wearing a green coat buttoned up against the cold outside. They both shared the same round face and slightly manic, disheveled look—the man was clutching a backpack like he was afraid someone would take it from him, and despite her frail appearance, the woman wasn’t leaning on her cane but gripping it in both hands like a club.


“Alvin, right?” Zinn asked. “Good to see you in better circumstances. And what should I call you, ma’am?”


“Dalisay, or Lola is fine too,” she replied. Her eyes were still darting back and forth in the restaurant, but as Cherie looked at her, she noticed that it didn’t seem like fear, exactly; there was a little bit of a smile on her lips, like some part of her was enjoying this.


Cherie dropped her gaze at that look, suddenly deeply aware of her own feeble fearfulness. She busied herself retrieving a toy Aiden had pushed off the tray and under the table. She absently wiped it on her shirt and handed it back to the toddler.


The newcomers slid into the booth on the other side of Zinn, Alvin first, then Dalisay. Alvin picked up a menu with jittery hands.


“Have you ordered yet? We should probably eat something, huh?” He said the last part with a glance at the older woman.


“You order whatever you like, dear,” Dalisay replied.


“Should I get you a…” Alvin began in almost a singsong voice, like he was talking to a child. Then he trailed off, looking awkward.


“It’s fine,” Dalisay replied quickly. “This is just going to take some adjustment. And I will have to rely on you for lunch—I don’t seem to have any money on me at the moment.”


Cherie was distracted by Liam tugging on her arm.


<They have chicken nuggets!> he signed, bad mood forgotten in the face of junk food. Cherie’s stomach dropped when she remembered the sad state of her new bank account, but Zinn came to her rescue. She waved a hand dismissively and said, “Don’t worry about it, food’s on me.”


After a minute or two of awkward small talk, the server came over and began taking their order. Cherie got Liam his nuggets, but when she tried to order herself a $3 side salad and a glass of water, Zinn ordered some loaded nachos “for the table” with a glance her way.


As soon as the server was gone, Zinn’s gaze swept past all of them, and she sighed.


“I invited you all here because I think something strange happened to us during the accident. You both got in touch with me today with some, honestly, fake-sounding stories—especially you, Alvin.” The young man seemed like he wanted to interrupt, but Zinn kept speaking and he backed down. “Still, something weird is going on here, and I don’t think we’re going to figure it out unless we have an actual conversation. So let’s start at the top: the subway crash. I remember seeing a lot of impossible stuff—I assumed it was some kind of hallucination, except that you mentioned something similar, Alvin. Will you tell me what you saw?”


“Uh, yeah,” Alvin said, frowning in thought. “So the crash itself was mostly just what you’d expect, lots of noise and people getting thrown around. But after…I saw a weird monster that was, like, made out of smoke. That huge guy fought it, like he was The Rock in an action movie. And I saw another one of those monsters last night. It came to our apartment, and it tried to…kill us, I guess?” He grimaced, then continued. “But I did…something—I can’t explain it, I still don’t understand—and Lola got really strong and fast and fought it off.” He glanced at his grandmother, looking sort of awkward. “Two days ago, she could barely walk across the apartment. She didn’t remember who I was. I feel really lucky, and really grateful for what happened, even though we got attacked. But I wish I understood.”


“It’s so strange,” Dalisay began, staring off into the middle distance. “I can remember snatches of that time…but I thought I was somewhere else, or that I was a child again. It’s like…those memories don’t even belong to me. Like I was a different person…” She trailed off, gaze fixed on her water glass.


“There are two extra-messed-up things about your story,” Zinn said. “First, that you saw the smoke monster too, which implies we weren’t just seeing things. And it’s not like we were, say, watching the same movie right before and our brains went to the same place due to stress. That makes me think that the monster was really there somehow. It could’ve been a trick—”


“There’s no way,” Alvin interrupted. “I swear it was there and we fought it. And it couldn’t have been a person—I literally saw it flow like a liquid and disappear. It wasn’t a projection or hologram or anything, either. I threw stuff at it that bounced off.”


“That doesn’t mean there isn’t some secret trick we don’t know about.”


“It came to my house. I’m not making that up!” Alvin’s voice was getting loud—Cherie shrank back a little in her seat.


“I know,” Zinnia said with a placating gesture. “But I’m not ready to just declare this magic or aliens and leave it at that, okay? My whole point is that we have no idea what we’re dealing with. And if this thing attacked you at home…”


“We have an enemy we don’t understand,” Alvin cut in. “Or me and Lola do, at least. It might have something against us specifically, though who even knows what that would be. Unless…” He glanced at Dalisay. “Do we have some magical destiny passed down in our family and you just never mentioned it before?” Any mysterious artifacts handed down from your parents?”


“Hmm…” Dalisay said, seeming to give it serious thought. “I have my great aunt’s good china, a few paintings done by my grandfather, and some other odds and ends,” she said. “If you were hoping for a magical sword or…alien moon rock or what have you, I’m afraid I must disappoint you.”


“Okay, so probably not that,” Alvin said. “But it could just be, I dunno, coming after people who’ve seen it, trying to keep its existence a secret. Like, ‘oh, I’ve never heard of smoke monsters before,’ but does that mean they’re not real, or does it mean nobody’s ever survived to tell the tale?”


“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?” Dalisay said with a hand on his arm.


“Do you not remember fighting for your life against that thing?” Alvin replied.


“I had it well under control,” Dalisay muttered without much conviction.


A long moment of silence fell over the table.


“…I saw the smoke monster on the subway too,” Cherie said. The other three adults all looked at her like they’d forgotten she was there. She tried not to shrink under the sudden attention. “And that man who was stabbed disappeared right out from under my hands.”


Before anyone could respond, Cherie’s phone buzzed in her pocket. Heart in her throat, she snatched it out and looked at the name on the screen.

She frantically typed her password and read the message.

Cherie realized she’s been holding her breath as she watched each message pop up on her screen. She forced herself to breathe, then started typing a reply.

The three dots on the phone screen showed that Maddie was typing a reply…they disappeared for a moment, then appeared again.


Somebody asked Cherie what was happening, but she just shook her head, still staring at her phone.

Cherie put her head in her hands. Of course.


Well, at least she’d have all three kids in her sight again, even if she was worried that  she’d be dragging Maddie into danger along with the rest of them. She texted the restaurant address and directions for getting there from the far station. She paused, then typed out one last note.

No reply, not that she expected one.


She sighed and slipped her phone back into her pocket.


“…Everything okay?” Zinn asked her.


“Yeah, it’s fine. My oldest daughter is going to meet us here.”


“Oh, you have another kid?” Zinn asked. “Was she on the train too?”


“No, she was at school. She stayed at a friend’s house last night, so she doesn’t know anything except that there was an accident.”


“Okay, but can we get back to what you were saying before?” Alvin asked. “You said somebody disappeared?”


“The fighter’s friend. I saw him get stabbed by that thing right in front of me. I tried to stop the bleeding, but…” She took a deep breath. “He was hurt really bad. There was this moment when he looked right at me, and I just thought, ‘he’s going to die.’ One second I was pushing hard on his chest, trying to put pressure on the wound…next second, he was gone.”


“Wait, really?” Zinn asked. “You didn’t mention that before.”


“I thought I wasn’t remembering right until everyone else had weird stories too.”


“Hm,” Dalisay said, thoughtful. “I don’t remember much of the accident, but you all keep talking about this large fighting man. What happened to him?”


“He was hurt pretty seriously during the fight—he got brought out on a stretcher, and I don’t think he was conscious for any of it. I assume they took him to the hospital,” Zinn replied. “Most likely Mount Sinai, since that’s where they brought the rest of us.”


“Well, it seems that he might have the answers,” Dalisay suggested.


“Yeah,” Alvin agreed. “He and his friend were talking like they’d fought that thing before—or monsters like it, at least.”


“Okay,” Zinn said, “I guess that’s our next move. We’ll need to track him down and find a way to see him. I just hope he’s regained consciousness.”


Everyone nodded their agreement as the server came over with a tray full of food. The conversation died down as they ate. Cherie picked at her salad in between giving bits of chicken nugget to Aiden—he was a messy, picky eater, and she was pretty sure most of it ended up on the floor.


“He’s a cute kid,” Alvin commented. “What’s his name?”


“Aiden,” Cherie replied. “And this is Liam,” she said with a gesture to her older son. Liam was fully engrossed in what he was doing, drawing what looked like misshapen lizards on the back of the menu with one hand and shoving fries into his mouth with the other. He didn’t notice Alvin’s attempt to wave at him. Cherie nudged him to get his attention, but Liam just glanced up for a moment, then went back to drawing and eating.


Cherie psyched herself up for another signed argument about manners that she really didn’t want to have right now.


“Ah, I see you have an artist in the family,” Dalisay said, short-circuiting the lecture. “Young Alvin was always drawing when he was little. He took after his mother that way; it was a new art project every day with her. I had to secretly throw some out every month or so or we’d run out of room. I suggested my Sofie do the same once we started to accumulate Young Alvin’s artwork, and Sofie was practically scandalized by the idea! She felt that every half-baked preschool project and lazy finger-painting should be framed and put on the wall! Although, to be honest, I think realizing that I’d thrown out so many of her creations hurt her feelings. She’s always had a sentimental streak…”


Dalisay trailed off and went silent for a long moment. Then she glanced back at Alvin. “Will she be here soon?”


The smile dropped off Alvin’s face.


“Lola… She died.”


“…Oh.” Her face scrunched up, warring grief and confusion playing out.


“Are you… Do you know who I am?”


“Of course I do!”


“Then who am I?” Alvin pushed, quiet but insistent. “Say my name.”


“You… You’re one of Sofie’s friends, aren’t you? I-I’m sorry, I can’t quite…”


Alvin covered his face with his hands.


“No, no no no no…”


Dalisay was frozen with one hand held out toward him, like she wanted to comfort him but wasn’t sure she should.


They stayed like that for a long moment, frozen. Cherie wondered if she should say something, but she had no idea what.


Zinn’s brow was knit with concern. She nudged Alvin with her arm, and he peeked at her through his hands.


“Hey, Alvin…when you first texted me, you said you “fixed her Alzheimer’s,” right?”


“I guess not!” he said, too loud and voice cracking.


“Do you think you can do it again?”


Silence. Dalisay slowly put her hand down.


“…I don’t know. I don’t know what I did.” Alvin’s voice was hesitant, but Cherie could hear a tiny thread of hope in it.


“Can you try?”


“Y-yeah…? Yeah. Not here, though. It was kinda…glowy. Wasn’t really subtle.”


“We’ll go out back. There’s an alley behind the restaurant—nothing there but a couple dumpsters.” Zinn glanced around the table. “To be honest, I wanted to test this anyway. Only way to figure it out, y’know?”


They made their awkward way out of the booth, Alvin guiding his grandma, Cherie handing off the baby bag to Liam. They left their mostly eaten meals behind and made their shuffling way past the confused server. Zinn handed her a few crumpled bills and brought up the rear.


Dalisay seemed noticeably feebler than when she arrived. She held tight to Alvin’s arm with both hands and put one foot in front of the other gingerly, like she was afraid she’d fall.


Cherie hoisted Aiden higher up on her hip. He really hadn’t had enough time to run around these pasts few days—he squirmed in her arms, throwing his weight forward and making himself as hard to hold as possible. Without asking, Liam fished another Duplo truck out of the baby bag. Cherie passed it to Aiden who stuck it in his mouth and started gnawing on it, still unhappy but at least not trying to throw himself out of Cherie’s arms anymore.


By the time she and her boys made it into the alleyway, Alvin was standing still and silent with his eyes closed, holding Dalisay’s hand. Cherie stopped a little behind Zinn and watched silently, holding Aiden close. Liam wrinkled his nose at the smell of the dumpsters, but he didn’t comment.


Seconds passed, then minutes. Alvin started breathing slower, than faster, and his face scrunched up like he was concentrating. But nothing happened.


Aiden got bored of his truck and chucked it on the filthy ground, then started reaching for it and crying, upset that he didn’t have it anymore. Cherie struggled to hold onto him as he once again tried to fling himself forward and out of her arms.


Alvin opened his eyes at the sound. Dalisay tried to walk toward the baby, then looked back at her and Alvin’s clasped hands in confusion.


“It’s not working,” Alvin said with a scowl. He glanced up at Zinn. “But I didn’t make it up! And Lola’s still doing better than she was a couple days ago, even if she doesn’t…”


“I believe you,” Cherie said. The others all looked at her like they’d forgotten she was there. She hugged Aiden tighter and made herself continue. “I, um, don’t know you that well, but you don’t seem like somebody who’d make all this up.”


Zinn nodded in agreement, though Cherie didn’t think she looked sincere.


“Maybe close your eyes and try to put yourself in the same mindset you were in when you did it last time,” Zinn instructed. “Try to think back to the monster attack. Walk us through what happened.”


“Yeah…okay.” Alvin took a deep breath, closed his eyes again, and started talking. “It was late last night, and I’d already put Lola to bed. I heard a crash from her room, and I went to check on her, and…it was there. The monster. I, uh, tried to attack it with some random stuff, but nothing I did hurt it.” His voice was getting higher and tighter as he described the attack—he seemed pretty uncomfortable talking about it. “I went back to Lola and was gonna try to grab her and run. The monster had us cornered, and I thought it was going to finish us off…it got closer and closer—”


Another long pause.


Nothing happened.


“Arrrgh!” Alvin yelled in frustration. “I…I don’t know what I’m doing wrong! I can feel it—it’s like a loose tooth, or a bug bite you can’t itch! It’s there, I know it’s there, but I can’t reach it!”


“You can feel it?” Zinn asked, the incredulous look growing deeper.


“Maybe walking us through the attack is the wrong way to do this,” Cherie said. In her experience, dwelling on painful moments from the past rarely helped anything. “Maybe just…think about healing. Imagine what you want the power to do, picture it going through your hand and into your grandma’s…”


Alvin shut his eyes again and got very still. He started breathing slow and deep, the motion of his chest the only movement. Dalisay tried to pull her hand away, but his grip was rock solid—not tight enough to hurt, but immovable.


Almost a full ninety seconds passed like that. Cherie could tell that Zinn was about to interrupt, but then, something happened.


It didn’t look like much, really. A small, yellowish glow started shining through the gaps in their clasped hands. If they’d been holding a single bulb on a string of Christmas lights, the effect would’ve been similar.


The real change was in Dalisay. Her whole body seemed to shudder for a second or two, but at the end of the movement she was standing straighter and taller. She stopped tugging on her hand to free it, just looked down at the light leaking out of their handhold with awe on her face.


“Alvin?” she said softly. “Apo, you can stop now. It worked. I remember.”


“Okay. Yeah. Uh, glad you’re back, Lola. Do you feel all right?”


“Better than ever.” She gave Alvin’s hand a squeeze, then pulled her hand back. “There was a burst of memories, but not as intense as the first time. And my body feels…incredible. So much stronger, so little pain. Even…” She put a hand to one shoulder, poked and pressed down on it a few times, then unbuttoned her coat and handed it to Alvin.


With her coat off, Cherie could see a bulky, bloodstained bandage under the shoulder of her blouse. Dalisay unceremoniously ripped the bandage off, pulling it through the collar of her shirt.


She turned to Cherie and Zinn, pulling her collar aside to show them, well, nothing. There was no injury visible on her shoulder, just ordinary age-blemished skin.


“See?” Dalisay said. “The monster cut me here—it was stinging like mad all afternoon, and you can see where it bled through. But now…it’s gone.” She turned back to her grandson. “Apo, you healed this too.”


“Huh.” Alvin said simply. He was looking at his hand like he’d never seen it before.


“O-okay. So I guess this is really happening,” Zinn said, just a little bit of a shake creeping into her voice. She glanced at Cherie. “You saw the light too?”


Cherie nodded.


Zinn frowned, then ran her fingers through her close-cropped hair.


“Ugh, right. We need answers.” She looked at all of them in turn, expression determined. “Let’s go find the man from the subway.”

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