Chapter 2
Logan Airport was busy at 5 a.m. on a Sunday. Somehow he had lost a day in travel, but Brent slept most of it on the three planes that got him here.
He rented a car, took the insurance, and went to pick out a 2012 Chevy Cruze. He caught Route 90, listening to a familiar Boston station playing Dire Straits.
Familiar landmarks made him smile. Even the signs did. Allston/Brighton, Weston, Route 128, Framingham… I-495. Route 146.
He took that exit. From there, he continued to Route 122A, heading to Worcester Center.
Traffic was heavy around Boston and later in Worcester. He checked the clock – only 7:30. Chances were his mother might be home, his father was already at work. He went to Edward Street and drove past the house. Still peach, it had white shutters. Small for five, but just fine for the remaining two. No cars were parked in the driveway, and deck in the back had a mosquito net covering it. His heart gave a little leap – it was just as he had left it. He continued down the street to the end, where it met MA-9. He took a sharp right, then another right into the parking lot of a Medical Center.
Locking the door, he glanced at the UMass Hospital across the street. His first job was as a floor cleaner, at sixteen, when he met the vampires.
No, he wasn’t going to check and see if they were still there. Not right now.
He went into the building, to the second floor, down the well-worn carpeted hallway, to the door that said, “Dr. Timothy M. Banant, Endocrinologist.”
Brent took a deep breath and opened the door. His eyes lit immediately to the frosted sliding glass doors to the other side of the room. He went to the window and it took a moment before the glass slid open.
The woman with reddish-auburn hair and round glasses was looking at something on her deks as she asked, “Can I hel—” She looked up. Her jaw dropped.
“I was wondering if you—”
“Brent!”
He grinned as she jumped up from her seat, ran around and threw open the door that separated the offices. Brent caught her in his arms when she ran into them.
“Hi, Mom,” he said, hugging her. The girls in the office were looking out the window to see what was going on.
“Oh, my God, Brent – how – are -” She threw here arms around him again. “How long are you here?”
“Just a month.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She pulled back, putting her hands on his biceps.
“I’ve been on planes since they gave me leave. I figured getting here was more important.” He looked at the two girls in the window. “Hi, Sue, Deedee.”
The two women in the office beyond smiled and waved. “Hi, Brent.”
His mother him up and down. “They haven’t been feeding you,” she said.
“Mom…”
“Did you call your father?”
“I thought I would go see him after I get a shower.”
“You need the keys?”
“Um, yeah.”
She went to the office. “Is Keith still out of work?” he called.
“He was out last week. He’s supposed to go to court at the end of the month.”
Brent shook his head.”I can’t believe he’s getting away with this.”
She returned with the keys. She said nothing.
“I’ll get these back to you at lunch.”
“A ruben from Jake’s.”
He laughed. “Yes, mom.” His mother kissed him and went back to her chair.
An old man came in and held the door open for him. He murmured his thanks.
He went back to the car, back onto MA-9, down Elizabeth and back to his parent’s house. He unlocked the door and heard barking. A medium-sized short haired dog with a pointed muzzle ran at him.
“Pickles!” called Brent.
The dog leapt and licked Brent’s face. Brent hugged Pickles and patted him. “That’s a boy,” he said. He had hoped not to use magic on his old pet. There were too many mangy dogs in Fallujah he had to fight off. He took off his backpack and set it down on the floor.
He walked through the impeccably clean house to his room, left as it had been but dusted frequently. The clothes he pulled out of his drawer smelled like they had been freshly laundered. He pulled out what he needed and got undressed.
Pickles was sniffing at his backpack. “Don’t piss on it,” Brent said, padding naked across the room to the door. He shut and locked it, then went to the bathroom and took a long, much-desired hot shower.
Pickles waited on his bed as he usually did. He and Brent played tug of war for a short time with the wet towel. Brent flipped the towel at Pickles who dove out of the way before it hit him. Brent pulled on his underwear. Those fit, however his denim shorts were a little too big. He chuckled as he threaded a belt through the hoops.
He pulled on an AC/DC t-shirt – it was a little tight across the chest, but still fit. He got on socks and sneakers.
“For once,” he said, “I’m not covered in dirt,” he said to Pickles. He put Pickles out, then took down the treat jar. When Pickles came back in, he made him pirouette berfore tossing a treat to him.
“I’ll be back okay, big boy?” He grabbed his phone on the way out.