Diamond City Trilogy

Chapter 3: Unexplained Phenomena

The boy clung to Fresco, head on his shoulder, huffing little gasps of air as he expelled the last of his distress. Fresco registered the smell of the child's full diaper under the little faded denim overalls. More powerful was the reek of burned rubber and spilled fuel making a rainbow river across the asphalt. The sirens were quiet, though the flashing ambulance lights still spun, intensifying his headache. His body shuddered slightly, totally drained. Only the weight of the boy, the awareness of the child and his need, kept Fresco on his feet. He ignored all attempts to speak to him. There was nothing to say even if he possessed the strength to say it.

His mind pushed away questions, unable to process and unwilling to grapple in the presence of reality. He held his breath when the woman was pried from her car. The boy started up again, struggling against him, shrieking over and over for his mother in a pitiful voice, mucus running from mouth and nose, face sheathed in tears. Fresco turned the boy away and spoke at last, a soft hushing noise as he rocked the terrified toddler to comfort him. The child collapsed again, burying his crimson face in Fresco's shirt, soaking it through with his distress. Relief rushed through him as he saw the woman move, watched the EMT's brace her neck and body and load her into an ambulance.

"Sarah!" A tall man in a rumpled business suit stood at what was left of the blue sedan. He missed the ambulance as it pulled away, siren blaring. Fresco found himself walking, knees jerking with the effort it took to move. He stopped in front of the frantic man and held out the boy.

The stranger's green eyes met his through sparkling glasses before glancing down at what Fresco offered. With a low cry, he reached for the sobbing boy who was leaning so far out with his arms outstretched he almost knocked Fresco from his feet.

"Thank you," the man whispered. "Is she...?"

It took Fresco a moment to respond. Everything seemed so hard. Speaking was an effort. So was feeling. But he wanted to help a little more if possible.

"Alive." It came out of him in a whispered breath. "Going to the hospital." Fresco gestured toward where the ambulance had been.

The man's face registered relief as his eyes welled with tears. Before he was able to say anything in return, a black uniformed officer interrupted.

"Mr. Connelly?"

The man nodded, still clinging to his son as tightly as the child clung to him.

"This way, please." The cop's old face was calm, but lined with the pain of more accidents than this one. He shot Fresco a glance, but dismissed him as he led the stricken husband aside.

Fresco rubbed his face with both hands, feeling his strength come back a bit at a time. He looked up and examined the truck again. When he did, his mind flashed to the vision.

the "O" mouth, Justin's smirk, blaring music, gray everywhere, the child

Fresco shuddered and found himself again. When he surged back to life, he panicked, heart stricken. Justin!

He found his friend in the back of the second ambulance. He was shaken, pale, with the beginning of a black eye and skin reddened from the force of the lifesaving airbag. Anne Collins, Justin's mom, wept next to him, light blonde hair pulling free of her pony tail as she dabbed at her red eyes with a mascara stained and crumpled tissue. She spotted Fresco first and ran to him, hugging him hard.

"Fres!" She pulled back, small hands surprisingly strong as they gripped his upper arms and gave him a shake. "We were terrified! Are you all right?"

Fresco nodded as he lifted his gaze from her to Justin. His friend scowled at him.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Collins," Fresco said. "Just shaken up, is all. Justin?"

He shrugged as the EMT wrapped his right wrist. "Broke my arm." He made a face. "Of all the damned luck..." He drifted off, dark eyes latching onto Fresco again. There was a fury in Justin as he glared. His rage pushed against Fresco, making him want to take a half step back.

He didn't.

"We were so sure you were... were..." Mrs. Collins started crying again. "The passenger side... there's nothing left!" She looked up at him, curiosity shining through her relief. "How did you get out?"

Fresco didn't have an answer. He struggled with his response. He needn't have bothered.

"He bailed." Justin's lips twisted to a snarl. When Fresco and Mrs. Collins turned to him, the fury on Justin's face fell to a friendly grimace, but left his eyes untouched by false good humor. "Must have. Thanks for the warning, bro." Justin was not happy.

Again, Fresco had nothing to say.

A car squealed to a halt, double door slams preceding the arrival of the Conte's. Fran embraced Fresco as Ray hugged Anne

"Everyone okay?" Ray glanced at Justin's arm, then at the truck. Eyes widening, he looked at his son. When their gazes met, Fresco felt a jolt of something he didn't like.

Ray's eyes were empty.

Fran, on the other hand, was making a big fuss. She also spotted the crumpled mass of destruction and gasped.

"Fres!" She hugged his arm, stroking his hand as though to reassure herself of his good health. "Dear Heavens, you boys are lucky to be alive."

"One of us is." Justin winked at her. "Good old Fres here took the easy way out, didn't you?"

Ray was still staring. Fresco didn't know how to take his father's blank expression.

"Guess so," he said.

Fran frowned. "If you hadn't..." She shuddered, her eyes drifting over the destroyed passenger seat. Two tow trucks pulled against the wreck, trying to get the cars apart. They separated with a grating of metal and plastic. They all stared at the gaping hole where Fresco had been sitting.

He was the first to turn away. There was more to it, but he was unable to go there, more willing to believe Justin's story.

I jumped, he told himself. Saw the car and bailed. Makes total sense.

What about the boy? The little voice knew he was lying to himself.

Fresco shuddered away from it. And from the look of pure vindictiveness Justin let him see before plastering on his old, familiar jovial grin.

"All's well that ends well," Justin said.

The hardest part of it was knowing the game wasn't over. Not for Justin. And, not for Ray. The short ride home in the back of his parent's car was the worst one since the night his parents lied about where Daniel went.

Now, why did I draw that parallel? Despite the accident, the endless questions from the police he did his best to answer, knowing what he told them got Justin in deeper trouble, Fresco's mind returned to his brother.

He followed his parents into the house, stopping in the dark of the hall by the front door. Night had fallen, the quiet of the street outside punctuated by the hum of a nearby streetlight. For some reason he couldn't explain, as he watched their backs retreat toward the kitchen, Fresco found himself remembering how he and Daniel used to pretend they were adopted. Their real parents were superheroes or spies or royalty who would come and get them someday.

Even when Ray told him the truth about Daniel, Fresco held out hope. But his father made sure to crush it absolutely.

We need to forget your brother, Ray said as Fran sobbed beside Fresco. Despite all we've done for him, he's chosen his life. And we aren't in it.

Fresco wanted to believe in Daniel, but didn't he himself see his dark-haired hero make his choice? His parents hugged him and told him how much they loved him and how he was their whole world. Fresco believed them, chose anger over love, and let them convince him to forget his brother the long and lonely night Daniel left him forever.

In the dark and silent hallway, punctuated by the hum of electricity, it took Fresco a moment to make up his mind. When he did, he followed his parents into the kitchen.

They whispered in harsh voices. Fresco made himself wait in the doorway, listening.

"It can't be!" Fran's voice was harsh with tears even when hushed. "They told us-"

"It doesn't matter what he told us," Ray cut her off, anger rising. "You know that. We both know what happened."

They were silent so long, Fresco had time to paw through his confusion. What were they talking about?

"He's fine. That's all that matters," Fran said at last. "Nothing happened. It was a car accident."

"He survived," Ray told her. "He shouldn't have. He has it. We have to do something."

Heart pounding all over again, not sure of another shock after what he went through, Fresco walked into the kitchen. Fran flinched, but Ray just looked at him.

"What's going on?" He stood there, glancing back and forth between them. In the glow of the faint light over the stove, with the fading aroma of chocolate chip cookies lingering in the air, his parents felt like strangers.

"Nothing, son." Ray's blank face shifted. He smiled at Fresco. "You've had a rough night. Best get some sleep. We all need it, I think."

"Things will be brighter with the sun." Fran smiled at him, too, through fresh tears. How many times did Fresco hear the familiar saying? His understanding honed by his experience of the day, he observed with newfound revelation Ray's knowing grin, his mother's loving face. He saw how they so easily controlled him his entire life, how he was manipulated to forget his brother. The memory of Daniel, vivid from the afternoon, made him speak. If they wouldn't tell him what was going on, what they knew, at least he could get some answers. Fresco owed his brother that much.

"I want to talk about Daniel."

Ray obviously warned Fran. She played the part well, but he knew her heart wasn't in it from the moment she opened her mouth.

"We've had this conversation," she said. "Daniel is gone, Fres, and he isn't coming back."

"Where's his stuff?" He needed to know. He wasn't sure why this was so important, more important than how he survived an accident that should have left him dead. Anger flared, pushing him away from the memory of the gray and to the cardboard box. He was sure the trophies vanished after he left the house.

"Gone," Ray said. "About time, too. We've moved on, son. Like we thought you had."

"He's my brother," Fresco said. "I need to know what happened to him."

"We have no idea," Ray said. "He ran off to kill himself with drugs, not caring about any of us."

"He chose drugs over us," Fran said, voice tired. "You know this, Fresco. We talked about it." She pulled away from Ray. "Why are we having this conversation now? When I think how close we came to losing you today..." She drifted off, a loving appeal in her hazel eyes.

Fresco didn't budge. Her familiar kindness washed over him, leaving him unaffected. It was easy to remain detached. Something changed in him, and they all knew it.

Ray cleared his throat. His parents exchanged a glance. From the weight of it, there was so much more going on than they told him. Ray sighed and nodded, rubbing his eyes with his hand while Fran turned back to Fresco.

"Sweetheart," she said, "We didn't know how... and after everything you've been through today..."

She trailed off, looking at Ray.

Fresco's father didn't hesitate.

"Daniel is dead."

Fresco's world wobbled, the shock closing darkness in around him for a moment. It shook him from his safe, empty place and thrust him back into emotion. It took him time to catch his breath and when he did, all he uttered was a hoarse, "What?"

"We were going to tell you," Fran said in a rush of words with fresh tears in her eyes, hands fluttering in front of her, not quite reaching him. "When you were ready. But you've been doing so well and we didn't want to disturb your life with the waste he made of his."

"When?" Who were they to decide if he was ready? Fresco felt the weight building on his chest again, but was too overwhelmed to be afraid. He could barely breathe, hardly speak, but he got the word out.

"Six months ago," Fran said. "I'm sorry, honey."

"Was there... a funeral?" Fresco struggled with the concept. The headache started up, this time fed by fire sliding through his veins, his body vibrating with it. He welcomed it, wanted it to burn away the stabbing anguish making its way through the cold of his shock.

"No," Ray said. "We decided to have him cremated. There wasn't much left of him you would recognize, Fres. It was hard enough I had to identify the body. I wanted to spare you and your mother."

The images of his brother from his past flashed yet again through his mind, but this time, instead of flinching away, he embraced each and every one. The fire within him sizzled and went out as a great pain welled up within him for Daniel and for himself, for the poor woman in the blue sedan, her husband, and the boy he rescued. As it reached an uncontrollable size, his heart shattered.

Unable at last to cope, Fresco bent his head and broke down, crying hopelessly for the brother he loved and lost all over again.

***