Final Days Read online

  “Okay,” Andrew replied. She had plenty of extra clothes here, so the bag was probably for her homework. She was a straight-A student. Honor roll. And that was all the more impressive, considering she went to one of the best schools in Malibu. She was just too damn smart.

  That’s my girl, he thought with a wistful smile. He flicked absently through the thumbnails of different shows on Netflix, looking for the one they’d been watching together. There. Hempel’s Paradox. The thumbnail was a picture of a black raven picking apart a green apple. Val said it had something to do with the name of the show, but whatever it was, Andrew didn’t get it. A lot of the show went straight over his head. It was a soapy, cerebral drama that, if he was being honest, he wouldn’t have watched in a million years if it weren’t for Val.

  His daughter returned a couple of minutes later, wearing her black skull-print PJs and carrying a fuzzy pink blanket. She sat next to him and spread the blanket over both of their laps before curling up under his arm.

  “It’s freezing in here,” she said. “When was the last time you paid the heating bill?”

  “There’s a heating bill?” Andrew deadpanned.

  “That explains it.”

  “It’s cozier this way,” he said. “Ready?”

  Val nodded, and he hit play.

  His mind began to wander as the show’s brainy main character (Val’s favorite) launched into a breathless monologue. The character’s sidekick/romantic interest was hanging on her every word.

  “Must be nice,” Val said.

  “Hmmm?”

  “To have a guy look at you like that.”

  Andrew turned to regard his daughter with one eyebrow raised. “Are you speaking about anyone in particular?”

  “No, Dad.”

  That sounded like a lie, but he decided not to press. He remembered what his therapist had said: if you want your kids to confide in you, you can’t pry too much. That only shuts them down. At least, that had been Andrew’s experience.

  “So there are no boys you like at school?” Is that prying? he wondered.

  “They’re all idiots,” she said. “Either they want to pay me to do their homework for them, or they want... well, you know.”

  “Yeah.” He tightened his grip around Val’s shoulders and kissed her on top of her head. “You tell me if you need any help scaring them off.”

  Val flicked a wry smile at him. “So you can go into Hulk mode and wind up in jail?” She shook her head. “No, I can handle them by myself, thanks.”

  Andrew frowned and nodded absently, his gaze settled on the TV. That quip hurt, but he wasn’t sure if Val understood why. His temper was half of the reason Selena had left. He’d never hit her, but she’d said more than once that she was scared of him. It wasn’t really fair. Selena had known about his temper going into things. They’d met in a hospital while she was tending his broken hand. The kids in the bar had provoked him. Three against one, and they were the ones who got to press charges. It wasn’t his fault that they’d never managed to land a solid blow. The Marines had taught him how to fight, and because of that, he’d wound up looking like the guilty party.

  Helluva justice system we have, Andrew thought.

  Old wounds burst open, and feelings of resentment and frustration flooded in. A familiar feeling of helplessness followed and quickly spread. Gunfire and screams rattled through his brain, distant enough to be a memory and not an actual hallucination, but it triggered him all the same. He shut his eyes to black it out. Bad idea. His brain filled the blank canvas behind his eyelids with a pink mist, and suddenly he was there in the back of that Humvee again. He could taste the blood and sand in his mouth. A loud skrrshhh roared through the ringing in his ears, and an explosion pounded through the vehicle with a razor hail of shattered glass.

  Andrew’s eyes flew open, and a scream tore from his lips. He could have sworn he felt the scalding heat of the flames licking off the hood.

  Val was shaking him. “Dad? Are you okay?”

  He was staring at the TV without blinking, his heart slamming in his chest. A feeling of isolation, horror, and despair clutched him, making it impossible to breathe. It was as if the memory of that RPG round had been powerful enough to knock the wind out of him and bust his ribs all over again.

  “Breathe, Dad. Just breathe, okay? It’s not real. You’re safe. You’re here with me. It’s over.” He could hear the fear and pain quaking in Val’s voice, and it cracked him in half, but he couldn’t just “snap out of it,” as Selena used to say.

  After a minute, the feelings passed on their own, and he sucked in a deep, calming breath.

  “What happened?” Val asked.

  Andrew shook his head. It was usually hard to identify a meaningful trigger. A lot of times it was simply a feeling, or even a hot day and a dose of dehydration. One minute he was fine, and the next he was in the middle of a full-blown panic attack. He was supposed to be stronger than this. He was a Marine, damn it.

  “I’m sorry,” he breathed.

  “It’s okay,” Val replied, but the disappointment in her voice was almost enough to send him running to the liquor store. “It’s late. Maybe we should go to bed,” she added.

  “If you want,” Andrew replied, trying to hide his own disappointment. Most nights he had trouble falling asleep. Staying asleep was a problem, too. His days might be troubled, but his nights were haunted. In his dreams, everything he kept pushing down came bubbling up, and suddenly he could see his buddies’ faces and hear their screams.

  “We can hang out again in the morning,” Val added. “We have all weekend.”

  Andrew nodded and rose with her from the couch. Val hung onto his arm as they shuffled down the hall to their bedrooms. He felt like an invalid, or a child. It wasn’t right. Val shouldn’t have to take care of him. Again the bottle beckoned. He could taste the bitter heat of a good single malt sliding down his throat, and the blissful numbness that followed. His mouth watered, and he absently reached for the chip around his neck. Val’s gaze flicked to him, and he jerked his hand away.

  Too late. “Do you need me to keep your car keys?” she asked.

  He shook his head. Get your shit together, Andy. “No. I’m okay. Just reminding myself how far I’ve come.” It’s taken me ninety days of agony to make it here. I can’t throw it all away now.

  Val was studying him, trying to measure how much willpower he had left. He turned and kissed her on the cheek. “Love you, Vee,” he said.

  “Me, too,” she replied.

  Half an hour later he was staring at his bedroom ceiling with his thoughts racing, and a pair of sleeping pills busy dissolving in his stomach. Darkness veiled the room like smoke. The yellow glow of streetlights pooled on the floor around his blackout curtains, and he lay listening to the not-so-distant sound of police sirens and traffic. Five or ten minutes later, a fire truck screamed by.

  Sometimes he wished he could pick up and leave it all behind. Find a quiet place somewhere far out in the country, where he could fall asleep listening to the crickets and wake up to the birds. Far enough from the madness that he could stick his head in the sand and the world could fall apart and he wouldn’t be the wiser. He’d get a little boat and take Val out fishing on the lake. They’d raise chickens and grow corn, live off the land...

  Andrew drifted off dreaming about that fantasy, of him and Val floating on that lake, their fishing poles dangling over the side of a canoe into mirror-clear water paved with evergreen reflections.

  A muffled crash woke him. His eyes flew open and he lay frozen in bed, listening to the distant rumble of cars on the nearby highway. A minute or two passed, and then a subdued thump followed. It sounded like the kitchen window sliding shut. Had he left it open?

  Andrew sat up in a rush with his pulse pounding in his ears. He slid the drawer in his nightstand open and carefully removed his Sig Sauer P320 from the drawer. It was a dumb place to keep a gun with a kid in the house, but he’d forgotten to move it to his
wall safe before Val came over. Good thing, too. He didn’t have time to punch in a combination right now. He pulled back on the slide to arm the gun, and stood up from the bed. Keeping the weapon aimed at the floor, he padded barefoot to the door and pressed his ear to it, straining to hear through the distant wails of police sirens.

  He could have sworn he heard someone step on the creaky floorboard in the hall. Was that Val getting up to go to the bathroom?

  Only one way to find out. Keeping the gun out of sight, he spared a hand for the door knob, took a breath, and then yanked the door open in one smooth motion. A shadowy silhouette stood frozen in front of him, wearing a black ski mask and dark clothes.

  “Hey!” His Sig snapped up, and the figure darted out of the hall. He pulled the trigger a split second too late, and the bullet crunched into the wall where the man had been a second ago. He sprinted after the burglar.

  “Dad?!” Val cried. Her door flew open just as he raced past it.

  “Get back in your room and lock the door!” he called after her as he reached the end of the hall and saw the burglar vaulting over the kitchen sink and through the open window. Andrew’s gun snapped up for another shot, but the man ducked out of sight too fast. The trespasser still had to climb over the side fence. That gave Andrew a chance.

  He ran for the front door. Broken wedges of glass glittered on the floor beside his shoes. He swiped his keys off the rack beside the coat closet and stood in front of the door with shattered glass cutting into his bare feet. In his drugged state, he missed the keyhole and plowed his hand straight through the broken pane of glass.

  A searing heat lit his hand on fire, but he pushed the sensation aside and tried for the keyhole a second time. This time the key glided in. He turned the lock, ripped the door open, and slammed through the screen door just as a shadowy figure went streaking past the back of his truck. Andrew stopped in the flickering light of his porch and took aim with both hands.

  BANG.

  The bullet crunched through the wheel well, and the burglar darted around the tailgate and out of sight. Andrew cursed under his breath and flew down the steps after the man. The glass shards stabbed with each step, slowing his progress. A wash of dizziness coursed through him as the sleeping pills won out over the adrenaline flooding his system. He stood leaning against the bullet hole in his truck, squinting blurry eyes towards the street. No sign of the invader. He shook his head and stumbled back up the steps. The screen door banged behind him. This time he took care to avoid the bits of glass in the entrance.

  “Dad?” Val asked in a trembling voice. She was standing in the hallway, looking terrified.

  “I told you to stay in your room,” he growled as he shut and locked the front door. “Call the cops.”

  “What happened?”

  Wordlessly, he strode through to the kitchen and slammed the open window shut. The latch wasn’t broken, so he must have left it unlocked.

  “You’re hurt!” Val cried, seeing the glistening trail of bloody footsteps he’d left in his wake. She ran over to him, and he turned to her with a grimace, suddenly aware that he was still holding a gun. He flicked the safety on, ejected the clip, and then cleared the chamber with a blood-slicked hand. There was a nasty gash in the flesh of his palm where he’d raked it over the broken window. Once the gun was safe, he set it on the kitchen counter with the clip and the bullet from the chamber, and began washing the blood off his injured hand.

  “I’m calling 911,” Val said.

  “Sure. Tell them we had a break-in.”

  An hour later they were sitting on the couch. Andrew’s hand and both feet were bandaged, and his eyes were half-lidded with the residual effects of the sleeping pills he’d taken. A police officer was staring unhappily at him, asking him to repeat his story for the umpteenth time, but Andrew was having trouble focusing on the man’s voice. Blue and red lights strobed through the screen door, flashing off the jagged glass in the entrance and making the smeary mess of blood he’d left on the floor gleam brightly.

  “One more time, please, Mr. Miller. I realize it’s late, but please try to focus.”

  “I’ve already told you everything!” Andrew snapped. His eyes swam out of focus, and his head lolled to one side. He shook his head to clear it, and the policeman glanced at Val with a frown.

  “Has your father taken anything or had anything to drink?”

  She shook her head. “No. He’s ninety days sober.”

  The policeman arched an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

  “I’m ninety-seven days sober, and yes, she’s sure,” Andrew said. “I took a couple of sleeping pills, that’s all.”

  “You mind if I see them?”

  Andrew pointed over the back of the couch. “End of the hall, last door on the left. Bedside table.”

  The policeman headed off in that direction, and his partner came to take his place, standing with a thumb hooked in his belt and one hand resting on his firearm. Andrew scowled up at him.

  Cop number one returned a few seconds later, holding an orange plastic bottle of prescription sleeping pills. He rattled the bottle a few times, nodding his head. “Ambien. My cousin used to take these. Then he started sleepwalking, then one night he sleep-drove his car straight into a telephone pole and woke up with his head on what he thought was his pillow. Turned out to be the airbag.”

  Andrew shook his head. “What’s your point?”

  The cop looked to Val. “Did you see anyone in the house?”

  She hesitated, then shook her head.

  “Did you hear anyone come in? Or a window breaking?”

  Another shake.

  Andrew felt a sick feeling flutter in the pit of his stomach. It wouldn’t be the first time the justice system had screwed him over. “Hey, that’s not...” He trailed off as a stabbing headache flared behind his eyes.

  “We found no signs of forced entry besides the damage to the front door, but you said yourself that the intruder didn’t come in there because he couldn’t unlock the door without the key. We examined the window that you said the burglar came in through, but there was no sign of forced entry there, and the neighbors didn’t see anyone climbing over the fence, or running away from your house.” The policeman pointed to Andrew’s bandaged hand. “Here’s what I think happened: you were sleepwalking. You grabbed your gun, fired at an intruder only you could see, and then cut your hand when you plowed it through the glass in a clumsy attempt to unlock the door. Then you fired a second shot at your imaginary friend as he ran around the side of your truck.”

  “I’ve never sleepwalked in my life,” Andrew said coldly. “I don’t have the history for it.”

  “You live alone, right? And these pills were prescribed two weeks ago, so how would you know if you sleepwalk or not?”

  Andrew scowled and slowly shook his head, even as he began to wonder if that was possible. He was definitely still half-asleep.

  Beside him, Val bristled and stood up with her arms crossed over her chest. “Okay, well, if that’s true, then there’s nothing else to do here,” she said. “Thanks for your time.”

  The policeman shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple. We’re going to have to arrest your father.”

  “For what?” Val shrieked.

  Policeman number two grabbed a pair of cuffs off his belt and took a long step toward Andrew. He jumped to his feet beside Val and swayed unsteadily for a second. “On what charges?”

  “Negligent discharge of a firearm. Turn around and put your hands behind your back, sir.”

  “Hang on! What about my daughter? You can’t just leave her here on her own.”

  Cop number one looked to Val. “You have somewhere else you can stay?”

  “My mom’s.”

  “We can give her a call and wait here for her, or give you a ride. Up to you.”

  “A ride would be faster,” Andrew said tiredly. “She lives in Malibu.”

  “This is so stupid,” Val muttered.
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  “I’ll call another car to come pick you up,” cop number one said. “My partner will stay here and wait with you until it arrives.”

  Andrew scowled as cop number two locked the cuffs around his wrists. He caught Val’s eye. “I’m sorry about this, Val. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

  She nodded uncertainly, and then her gaze slid away. Maybe even she was beginning to think that he’d imagined the intruder.

  * * *

  Lewis

  Lewis held onto the railing of the floating docks and stared over the roiling ocean to the darkening horizon. The water was black, frothing from the looming storm. The sky hung close overhead, the clouds thick and purple. The air practically crackled with tension. It was the middle of the day, but it seemed like midnight. This storm was like a harbinger for everything else that was coming. The end of an era, and the beginning of a new one, he thought.

  A purple flash of light cracked the sky in half, jagged and wide like a fissure in the Earth. The heavens had their own version of tectonics, and they were bumping elbows now. A distant rumble of thunder accompanied the slash of light, and Lewis began to feel the first pitter-pattering of raindrops landing in his hair and on his skin. He stared at his bare arms, turning them over a few times to watch as fat drops shook the forest of hairs on his arms with strange tickling sensations.

  “We don’t have much time,” Eric Keller said.

  Lewis flinched, startled by the voice. He’d forgotten Eric was there. He turned to look at his project manager and second-in-command. Eric was short, small, and thin, with an obsessively trimmed beard that he thought could hide his weak chin. There was a sharp gleam in his shifty, dark eyes.

  This was a man who’d never been exemplary in his life, but who’d always secretly suspected that he was anyway. Now he’d been elevated to a position of power, confirming his arrogant assumptions of unrecognized greatness. He was an idiot, easy to fool and manipulate, which made him perfect to be the public face of this facility—not that anything about it was actually public. Eric handled the day-to-day interactions with people. After all, Lewis couldn’t have them interacting with him all the time. It was too risky.