FIVE

It had been three years, and sometimes an entire week would go by without her thinking about Paula or Mica.

She could not remember the last time she had thought about her son-in-law or grandson.

Gloria felt guilty about that, but life moved on, as she knew better than most. Because she was still able to recall a life without children…and lives with different children. She’d hoped against hope that such a shift would happen again, taking Benjamin out of the pain he’d been in since the murders, but maybe that was the point of all this. Maybe the goal was to get Benjamin to kill himself.

Whose goal, though?

And what would happen if he did commit suicide? Gloria suspected it might mean the true end of him, but that was something she never wanted to find out, and she had spent every day of the past three years burying her own grief and attempting to keep her husband on an even keel, providing him with reasons to live.

Dan had disappeared.

He was not suspected by anyone other than herself in the murders. How could he be?

Officially, he was dead. She looked for him, though, in real life and online, searching for evidence of his existence, but he seemed to have vanished into the ether from which he’d come.

Maybe he was really gone this time.

She hoped so.

Neither Paula nor Mica showed any signs of returning. Their revival she would have welcomed—and resurrection would certainly have brought peace and joy to their father—but both of her daughters remained stubbornly dead.

More than once, Gloria awoke in the middle of the night, certain that she was being watched. A couple of times, she was frozen in place, unable even to turn her head and look, certain that a dark figure was standing by the side of the bed, looking down upon her. Other times, she awoke with the feeling that something had just departed after observing her asleep. Her reaction was the same one she had had years before to Hector Lopez’s unseen guardian, a sense that the figure’s purpose was to keep her in place, guarding against any attempt to leave.

You don’t want to meet my guardian.

The figure even turned up in a few of her paintings, though Gloria was not sure how that happened. During the summers, she had continued pursuing her artistic interests, and while she tended to depict southwest landscapes and old western buildings, occasionally she found herself putting dark hooded forms in the backgrounds, amidst trees or rocks, behind broken windows.

When she discovered what she had done, she invariably painted over the scenes.

The years continued to pass. She and Benjamin could not call themselves happy, but neither were they miserable. They existed. They were together, though. They had each other. That was the most important thing. And if their lives consisted of one long string of repetitive routines, those patterns and habits were comforting.

All of that changed after a field trip to Saguaro National Park.

It was the middle of the fall semester, though temperatures were still summer hot. Mrs. Lee’s sophomore biology class was scheduled to take a trip to the park’s Tucson Mountain district to study the native plants and animals of the Sonora Desert, but there weren’t enough chaperones for the number of students, so staff members had been asked to volunteer. Always glad for an opportunity to be outdoors, Gloria signed up. Two of her students were in Mrs. Lee’s class anyway, and she sat next to them on the bus as it travelled the long way around Gate’s Pass to Saguaro’s entrance.

“Everyone make sure they go to the bathroom at the visitor’s center!” Mrs. Lee announced as they got off the bus. “Once we’re on the trail, you’ll have to hold it!”

There was a chaotic rush to get to the restrooms, and by tacit agreement the teacher and chaperons spaced themselves out in order to herd the students into orderly lines.

Ten minutes later, the kids were starting out on the nature trail, pens and notebooks in hand. A ranger led the tour, with Mrs. Lee periodically chiming in about specific things that were going to be on an upcoming test.

The group stopped in front of a stand of ocotillos, one dead and bare, the rest covered in small green leaves, two of them with red flowers blooming on the tips of their branches. At the rear of the group, Gloria was unable to see the ocotillos up close, so she waited until the class began moving on to the next stop before stepping forward to get a better look at the red flowers.

“Gloria.”

It was a whisper of her name, and she swiveled around to see who was calling her, but there was no one close by. Unable to see how such a whisper could have carried farther than her sight line, she assumed she’d misheard or imagined it.

The whisper came again.

“Gloria.”

The voice seemed to originate from the other side of a large palo verde, and, curious, she stepped off the trail and moved around the green trunk of the tree. A woman was standing there, an older woman wearing oddly fashionable clothes.

Maxine.

Her mother.

Her real mother.

Gloria had no idea how she was able to recognize the woman’s true identity, but somehow she knew the old lady instantly. In another life, another time, Maxine had been her “mother’s” neighbor. When Gloria had taught nursing at a college, another version of Maxine had visited her to issue vague disturbing threats. But she understood now that in her real life, Maxine was her long-absent mom.

Long-absent?

How did she know that?

Gloria wasn’t sure.

The woman smiled. Not a friendly smile but a cruel one, an expression of hostility and antagonism for which Gloria could think of no rationale.

There were questions she wanted to ask the woman. If her mother was here, that probably meant that she, too, had lived other lives. Did she have the capacity to exit and enter existences at will? Could she make changes to the world around her?

Did she know how to bring people back?

“We meet again,” her mother said, the hard smile fixed on her face.

It was the sort of trite comic book dialogue Gloria might expect to hear in an old James Bond movie, but in this context it carried an element of real threat. There was no indication that her mother was happy to see her after all these years, all these lives. On the contrary, the implication was that the two of them were enemies on the verge of some sort of showdown.

“Mom?” Gloria said.

The woman’s expression darkened. “Don’t call me that.”

“It’s what you are.”

“It’s what I was.”

“What do you want with me?” Gloria glanced around the side of the tree toward the path, aware even as she spoke that the students she was supposed to be chaperoning were moving further away.

“I want you to stop.”

“Stop what?”

“I know what you’re trying to do.”

“I’m not trying to do anything. I’m just living my life.”

“You’re trying to resurrect Benjamin. You can’t fool me.”

A sex- and role-reversed lyric from the song “Cat’s in the Cradle” repeated itself in Gloria’s mind: She’d grown up just like her. Her mom was just like her.

Only it was the other way around. She was just like her mom.

“I told you before. Benjamin has to die. You can’t save him.”

We think something might be working against you.

Russell had said that, back in the shack, and in her mind she’d conjured up some vague dark force, a looming formless shadow. But it wasn’t that at all. It was her mother. For some reason, it was her mother.

Even as she tried to make sense of that truth, the woman was stepping forward, out of the dappled shadows of the palo verde, and Gloria could see that her mother was older than she’d originally thought. The skin of her cheeks looked thin and papery, like brittle parchment, and deep lines on her thin lips were almost mummy-like.

How old was she?

“Get out of here,” her mother said.

Gloria feigned ignorance. “Get out of where? The national park?”

“This life!”

“I don’t know how.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I really don’t.” But in the back of her mind sprouted the germ of an idea.

“Get out and leave Benjamin where he is.”

“I would never do that.”

She could think of no possible reason why her mother would try to keep her from resurrecting her husband. Gloria had apparently returned plenty of other people with absolutely no pushback from her mother whatsoever. And Benjamin had been taken far too early. He deserved a full life. They both did.

“I’ve stopped you before, and I’ll stop you again.”

The sun suddenly seemed hotter. Gloria used a hand to wipe the sweat off her forehead. “Why are you doing this? What’s it to you? You don’t even know us.”

“You don’t know what I know.”

“Well, I came here for Benjamin, and he’s going back with me.”

“Why? Even if you did manage to do it, you wouldn’t remember who he was.”

“That’s only temporary—”

“Not this time.” Her mother smiled, and Gloria’s stomach sank as she saw the certainty in her expression. “You’ve been away too long now. And you’ve tried once too often.”

Was that possible?

“Nice try.” She pretended to think her mother was bluffing.

“You’re not going to remember who he is.”

“Why are you so against him? I don’t understand. Why do you care what happens to him?”

“We can’t save people. We’re not supposed to.”

Gloria took an angry step forward. “Who says?”

“It’s something I know. And the fact that you don’t…” She shrugged.

“Stay away from us,” Gloria warned.

“I don’t think so.”

A whole host of childish retorts readied themselves in Gloria’s mind, most of them addressing her mother’s abandonment of her, all of them intended to hurt. She hadn’t realized she was so angry, but she was. Instead of saying anything out loud, however, Gloria turned away and stepped back onto the trail. There was no call for her to stay, no final taunt or threat, and, hurrying to catch up with the class, she was afraid to look back, afraid her mother might not be there, afraid she might have disappeared, and she kept her eyes on the path ahead.

All the way back to school, sitting at the front of the bus, she thought about what had happened, her head filled with far too many questions. Chief among them was why her mother wanted Benjamin dead. Gloria could still think of no possible reason for such a prejudice, and she couldn’t help feeling that there was something she was missing, something just beyond her grasp that would explain it.

She wondered, too, about the woman herself. How had her mother found her? She’d somehow known that Gloria would be on that specific trail at that specific time, so it stood to reason that her perceptions weren’t as limited as Gloria’s were, but what did that mean? Was her mother bound by the rules of this world? Was she living a normal life here, as Gloria herself was? Or could she pop in and out at will? Did she have…powers? Maybe she could transform into other people.

None of the implications were good, and though they returned to school in the middle of lunch and Gloria still had another hour to work, she told the office that she wasn’t feeling well and went home early.

Alone in the house, she paced back and forth from the living room to the dining room to the kitchen and back again, feeling antsy and ill-at-ease. Periodically, she looked out one of the windows, expecting to see her mother standing in the yard like some wraith. Once, she even picked up the phone, though it hadn’t rung, expecting to hear her mother’s voice on the other end of the line. There was only a dial tone, but that did not put her mind at rest. Indeed, she felt even more nervous, certain that her mother would appear once again but having no idea when.

I’ve stopped you before, and I’ll stop you again.

That was what scared her the most, the idea that her mother might be able to keep her from saving Benjamin and maybe even get rid of all…this. She glanced around the house, thinking about her paintings and her garden and her job and her life. Her gaze alighted on the dining room table, and a bleak sadness welled within her as she reflected on what had happened to Paula and Mica, and Mica’s family. Dan was still out there somewhere, Gloria knew, and she wondered if he had any connection to her mother.

Maybe he was working with her.

Maybe he was her.

Benjamin arrived home from work shortly after five, and she told him immediately that they needed to move, get away, get out of Tucson. She didn’t want to have to explain things to him, but she did, and to his credit, he did not immediately think her crazy. There might have even been a part of him that understood, but ultimately the totality of everything overwhelmed him, and he simply could not wrap his head around such a complicated and all-encompassing scenario.

He shook his head slowly. “You want us to sell our house because—”

“Not sell,” she said. “Leave. Now. We don’t have time to waste. She’s out there, and she’s coming.”

“Your mother?”

“Yes! I told you!”

“And you think we’ve lived other places and had different children. Or no children.”

She held his arms, closing her eyes as she pressed her forehead against his. “Just think about it. Please. Not logically, but…does it feel true to you? Does it feel like it’s possible?”

He was silent for a moment. “Where would you want to go? And for how long?”

“I don’t know,” Gloria admitted. “I just know we need to get out of here as soon as we can.”

Benjamin smiled tiredly. “I’m trying to follow this. I really am.”

“You don’t have to follow it. You just have to trust me.”

He started toward the kitchen. “It’s been a long day, Glore. Why don’t we just sleep on it and—”

“Have you heard a word I’ve said?”

“Every single one.” He took a glass from the rack next to the sink, turned on the faucet and filled it with water, taking a long drink.

“She. Wants. You. Dead. Do you understand? I’m trying to save your life!”

A flicker passed over his face, and she was afraid she’d said the wrong thing. Since they’d lost their children, she knew he had thought about it, and one of the ways she’d tried to keep him alive was to prevent him from considering suicide.

That would give her mother what she wanted without her having to do a thing.

“A vacation,” Gloria said quickly. “Let’s call it a vacation. How long has it been since we’ve had one of those? We’ll pack and go, be spontaneous, like we used to be when we were younger.”

“We were never spontaneous,” Benjamin pointed out, but he didn’t automatically dismiss the idea. He thought for a moment, finished his water. “Where would we go?” he asked, putting his glass in the sink. “Not Europe or something. Not a cruise, I hope?”

“We’ll drive there,” Gloria said. She knew he liked to drive.

“Where?”

Since coming back from the field trip, the idea at the back of her mind had continued to grow. Hicksville, she thought. They needed to get to Hicksville.

“Hicksville,” she said. “It’s in northern California.”

Why had that not occurred to her before? Other than Benjamin and herself, it was the one constant throughout all incarnations of her life. Sisters and brothers came and went, sons and daughters, friends, but she and Benjamin were always there, and somehow she always ended up in Hicksville, and while she seemed to forget it over and over again, it always seemed to be her way out.

Except in that apocalyptic scenario.

Could there be a connection?

She didn’t know, didn’t care. All she wanted to do was return Benjamin to the life they were supposed to be living.

You’re not going to remember who he is.

She was willing to take that chance.

“You want me to drive to California to some town called Hicksville? For a vacation? Hicksville? Really?”

Desperation was setting in. She’d thought she’d be able to just tell him what was happening, and the two of them would take off. She hadn’t expected that convincing him would be so hard.

Behind Benjamin, through the window above the sink, Gloria detected movement. Not the usual bird or squirrel, but something bigger, and, stepping forward, she peered over his shoulder through the glass.

Her mother was standing on the lawn. To the sides of her were other men and women, people Gloria recognized from other places, other times. Neighbors, coworkers, store clerks, passersby. Background people.

And Dan.

Her son was staring straight at her, smiling the disconcerting smile that was simultaneously his and not his. In his right hand, he held a long curved knife.

Something ran over the grass and around the assembled group on all fours. A dog? No, a woman.

Her grandmother.

The one who hated Benjamin, who had twisted the head off the cat next door.

Gram-Gram

A feeling of panic engulfed her. “Turn around!” Gloria ordered, twisting Benjamin’s shoulders. “Look!”

He turned. “At what?” he asked, and Gloria saw instantly that the lawn was empty. In the few seconds she had looked away, all of them had disappeared.

“It doesn’t matter!” she said, her voice frantic. “We have to go!”

She realized that she sounded crazy and had no doubt that she would have thought her husband off his rocker were the shoe on the other foot. But she knew what was happening—she was the only one who knew what was happening—and if they didn’t leave immediately, there was a good chance that Benjamin, and maybe even she, would end up dead. Permanently.

Gloria pulled at his arm. “Come on!” She was crying, and it was that more than anything which gave her plea credence. He could see how frightened she was, and she could tell from his expression that he was wavering. “If you ever loved me, you have to—”

From the bedroom or bathroom at the back of the house came the sound of shattering glass.

Benjamin instantly turned toward the door.

He’d heard it, too!

“That’s her,” Gloria said.

Something in her voice must have convinced him, because he grabbed her hand, and without speaking, the two of them hurried through the dining room, through the living room and out the front door, which Benjamin locked behind them. To her relief, there was no sign of her mother, Dan or anyone else. The lawn, driveway, street and sidewalk were all empty. By tacit agreement, they headed straight to the car, separating when they reached the hood of the vehicle, Gloria going around to the passenger door, Benjamin taking the driver’s side since he had the keys.

“Get out your cell,” he said. “Call the police.”

“The police can’t help with this.”

“We could drive there. To the station.”

“You don’t seem to understand.” They were falling back into the same argumentative rut. “We. Need. To. Leave.”

“Well, even if we drive away now, we have to come back for our clothes and…”

“And what?”

“If we’re going on a trip, we have to bring our bathroom stuff and make sure all the windows are closed and the house is—” He jerked backward in his seat. “Jesus!”

Gloria looked through the windshield. The old lady who had once been her grandmother—

Gram-Gram

—had sped around the corner of the house on all fours and was loping toward the car, grinning madly.

Benjamin threw the transmission into reverse, backed out of the driveway and skidded onto the street before immediately shifting into drive. They sped away at twice the posted limit.

“What the hell?” he shouted.

“I tried to tell you.”

“That was your mother?”

“My grandmother. From another life.”

“Jesus!”

“I told you.”

“You were right. It’s really real.”

Gloria breathed a sigh of relief. He finally got it. He actually understood.

They had reached Speedway, and, slowing down, Benjamin turned left onto the thoroughfare, heading toward the center of town. “So what do we do?” He was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white.

“We go to California.”

“Hicksville.”

“Yes.”

He nodded slowly. “All right, then. We’ll get some gas, and we’ll head out. We just need to find out how to get to this Hicksville.”

“Just get us to California,” Gloria said. “I’ll be able to find it from there.”