Sara's House

The small, one-story house seemed tired, gloomy even. Despite its newness, something inside reeked of despair and decay.

Taryn shivered.

“It feels so dead.” she muttered.

Beside her Sylvie nodded, her tail swishing side to side.

“Sara has a hard time balancing work and maintaining this place. I'm giving her a hand, but even so, there's only so much either of us can do.”

“Are her parent's home, do you think?”

“Usually. Though they might be at the psych doc now.” Sylvie said. “They know I usually come in an hour, but even then, I don't usually see them if they aren't too drunk to remember.”

The two walked into the yard.

“Sara gave me a key to her place in case I needed it.” she explained.

They opened the door and went inside while the agents took up positions outside the yard. The smell of stale beer and old food smashed into Taryn's nose, and she fought to keep from backing out the door.

“Damn. It's not usually this bad.” Sylvie said worriedly. “She must not have had time to work around here before shift.”

Taryn nodded, staring around her in horrified wonder.

Black garbage bags full of old food boxes, bottles and cans lay in a towering pile by the door, waiting to go out. More trash lay scattered on what might have once been a white carpet but looked mottled brown. The furniture seemed well-used, but covered in a slimy, sticky residue.

“My God.” Taryn said softly, “I had no idea it would be so bad.”

“Yeah.” Sylvie agreed. She bent to start gathering bags.

“C'mon. Let's get some of these out to the front for the garbagemen.” She said. “That'll give Sara less to do when she gets home.”

Taryn started to tackle the lime-green couch, grabbing at the wadded-up bundles of blankets to take them for a wash. A sharp “Ouch!” emerged under her clutch and she let go, startled.

The mound stirred, then sat up. Lank, unkempt hair tumbled out as something began peeling itself free. It was Sara!

“Sara!” Sylvie said surprised, coming to see what was going on.

“Whozzat?” Sara asked sleepily, blinking her crusty eyes.

“Sara, it's me, Sylvie.” She said in a very soft, gentle voice. The kind used by people approaching a hurt and wary animal.

“Sylvie!” Sara tried to muster enthusiasm, but she just wasn't able to sound more than utterly exhausted.

“We didn't expect you to be home, with the car gone.” Sylvie explained. “No one answered at the knock and we thought you'd taken your parents to their appointments before coming back. We were just getting started and thought you'd show up shortly.”

“No.” Sara groaned, running her fingers through her hair. “I was supposed to, but I worked late shift at the Diner last night and I fell asleep this morning. God, Dad must have gone to the bar again!”

A quick search of the house, mostly by Sara, showed neither parent to be home. Frantic calls to their phones went straight to voicemail.

“Maybe they are at the psychiatrist?” Taryn suggested.

“Hang on, what's this?” Sylvie asked, looking at something pinned to the fridge.

They crowded around while Sylvie read the note aloud.

Sweetie, you father and I went to the doctor and then to the bus station to pick up your aunt and cousin. Love, Mom

“Do you think they actually went?” Sara mumbled, staring at the note.

They found out an hour later at the sound of a car engine. They set down the bags they'd been working on and went outside.

Four people were getting out of the small, blue car under the eyes of the heavily armed agents.  The man emerging from the driver's seat seemed only a withered shell of the strong Viking Taryn remembered meeting once. His eyes were sunken in pallid cheeks, his once red beard now shone a bedraggled snowy white, save where bits of food stuck to the hairs and discolored it. Once powerful muscles were hidden under baggy bits of skin.

A small, watery, mousy woman shook like maple leaves in high winds as she came out, looking anywhere but at them, seeming about to fall to the ground in a dead faint except for the steadying presence of a young, tanned man with smiling, full lips and green eyes that sparkled in wonder as they gazed at them.

But it was the car's final passenger that drew and held her attention.

This tall, muscular woman held herself with assuredness and the manner of one used to command. Her keen grey eyes took in the dirty state of the three women before her, the dingy exterior of the house, and the huge mountain of garbage at the front of the drive. Whatever she thought of it all she kept shuttered behind her severe face.

She looks like Halls, Taryn thought, but this woman, while strong featured, was not her former tormentor. Taryn felt she would be just as no-nonsense and ruthless in achieving her goals, though probably without a whip in hand.

“Sara.” Her soft, warm southern drawl seemed at odds with her face. “It is good to see you.” her lips drew back in a genuine smile of affection and warmth that completely changed her appearance. Taryn stared in shock.

“Aunt Anna!” Sara cried, rushing forward to embrace the older woman, heedless of the filthy state of her dress. “I had no idea you were coming!”

“I'd heard through a neighbor of yours what was going on here.” Anna sniffed dismissively.

“So, I came at once. It's almost criminal how much you've taken on yourself, but it shan't get any better for a bit until we get this house turned around. Jethro!”

She turned to the young man.

“I'll take Katie now. Please bring the bags inside.”

“Sure, mom!” he said cheerfully.

“Greg, why don't you give him a hand?” Anna suggested.

He scowled, but his expression cleared ruefully and he nodded.

Anna swept everyone else inside, then saw the state of the house and the signs of cleaning everywhere. Her lips thinned but that was it. Immediately she went to work, pulling the cushions off the couch with an expression of distaste.

“Here, let me-euuuuuaaaagh-sorry. Help you.” Sara yawned.

“No, it's fine dear.” Anna said. “Why don't you get some sleep before you go to work.”

“Work!” Sara gasped, turning pale and searching her pockets frantically. “Where is it?! What time is it?!”

“It's after three.” Sylvie told her, checking her cell phone.

“Nooo!” Sara's face turned to a mask of despair. “I'm late! Mr. Gorbechev said he'd fire me if I was late after last week!”

“I'll talk to him.” Sylvie offered. “Maybe offer an endorsement or something. He won't fire you.”

Sara looked hopeful. So, after batting aside Anna's reserved thanks and Sara's parents far more effusive ones, they left with Sara riding Sylvie's back.

Gorbachev's Diner

Gorbachev's establishment turned out to be an all-night diner occupying the space that had once housed the sports store.

“It's new.” Sara explained. “They've only opened in the past couple of weeks. That's how I got my fourth job here.”

“Fourth job?!” Taryn said, unwillingly impressed. Or perhaps not, she mused. It was clear that the juggling was killing Sara.

Despite the newness, business appeared to be booming. Most of the tables were full and three women bustled around in aprons to take orders or bring trays of food.

A large bear of a man stepped out of the office, dourly looking at them as they came into the store and stomped over.

“Dere you are!” he said, his black hedgerows of eyebrows beetling together into one untamed jungle strip on his blocky face. “Come for shift at last? Vhell, don' vorry, Celia could take it! In vact, she'll take all shifts! You fired!”

“Hold on there.” Sylvie said commandingly. Everyone stopped in the diner and listened.

“We were the ones to make her late this time, and I am sorry about that. If you would like, we'll sample something here and offer an endorsement. But I won't do either if Sara loses her job from me.”

“Nor me.” Taryn added, glowering at the man. She smelled a sniveling coward in him, a two-bit huckster with an outrageous Russian accent that was as phony as his stained and torn clothes.

The man hesitated, clearly thinking it over, his dark eyes surveying the both of them as if weighing how much they would make off of them. They froze on Sylvie's guns and at once genuine fear entered them. The eyes darted over to Taryn and noticed, as if for the first time, the spears she carried in her sheath and the agents behind them eyeing him calmly with automatic rifles in their hands.

“No guns!” he choked out, pointing to a sign with a red circle and line through a shadow of a pistol.

“Good day, Mr. Gorbachev.” Sylvie said coldly.

She turned and walked out the door. Sara looked hunched and small on her back, Taryn thought, and she patted her on the shoulders.

Behind them they heard shouting and an incredulous oath. A glance showed three of the waitresses right behind them apronless and behind them at least half the guests, all of them locals.

They nodded respectfully to the three of them and went to the parking lot while the waitresses gathered round.

“Just like the tightwad.” One said sympathetically to Sara. “don't worry. Once word gets around, he won't find it easy to do business here! Good to see you two again!”

Taryn finally clicked.

“Julie?!” she asked in shock.

The fourth best swimmer on the team grinned at her. “Hey Tar. How ya' been?”

“Pretty good.” Taryn said. “Glad it finally settled down around here.”

“Aren't we all.” the third girl, Teresa said fervently.

They talked for a while to catch up before the three ex-swimmers and now ex-waitresses said good night.

Taryn watched them go, remembering a time when her and Sylvie would have been right there with them. She shook her head. Man, how things have changed!

Golden Star Hospital

As they turned for home Taryn' mind turned to a solution for Sara.

“Sylvie! I have an idea! Follow me!”

She surged ahead, caught up in its simple brilliance. Behind her came the sound of a stampede as Sylvie and the agents chased after her. Sara clung to Sylvie's back for dear life.

Just past the new Devin's Grocery Outlet a six-story building gleamed, its windows overlooking the town and the river while beside it rose a towering four-level parking garage.

Leaving the agents at the door to mind their steaming horses, they walked into the entry lobby where a pretty, flame-haired receptionist sat.

“We'd like to see Mr. Wolfe, please.” Taryn said firmly.

“Of course, Taryn. Go on up, we've been expecting you.” she smiled, her green eyes flashing in amusement.

“Right. Thanks Charlene.” Taryn waved. She liked the soft-spoken, steely receptionist from Montana who, she knew, was a crack shot with the automatic rifle and that pair of nasty sub-machine guns hidden under her desk.

Walking to the glass-enclosed lift, she pressed the button for the top floor. The doors closed and the lift silently whisked them up. Sylvie stood comfortably beside her with room to spare.

“I wonder how much it cost them to make all the hallways, lifts, and offices centaur friendly.” Sylvie mused. It was a long-standing debate between them.

“An additional six million on construction costs, probably.” Taryn said, not budging from her previous guess.

“I still say that's too conservative.” she laughed. “Probably closer to, oh, fifteen, I'd say.”

“Come on, Syl. Think about it: the hardware was already there, it just needed to be put in place for our use.”

“The hardware may have been there, but the increase in every office, walkway and conference room that we've seen would add up quick. Or else we haven't found the human's only wing.” Sylvie argued.

“True, but I can't see-”

Taryn cut off as the elevator opened spilling into a nicely appointed hallway with wine-red carpeting that never seemed to stain. Sylvie followed Taryn to a simple, unmarked door at the end of the hallway, similar to any one of the twenty or so doors she could see on this level. Taryn knocked and heard a muffled “Enter.”

Stepping inside the plain office, no bigger than any other office in the building, Taryn's eyes went to the large L-shaped cherry wood desk with its neatly stacked piles of paper being worked on and the pigeonholes  on the one side each with a brass nameplate denoting a letter of the alphabet full of other papers. Seated in the plush leather chair sat Wolfe who looked at them interestedly as he set aside the stack of papers he had been working on inputting into a sleek computer.

“Sylvie, Taryn.” he nodded. “Miss Kendall. How are you all today?”

“In need of help.” Taryn said frankly, before the other two could speak. “Which you already know.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I don't have spies on every doorstep.” Wolfe said dryly.

“No, but we are the hottest commodity for your company, thanks to Sylvie and Dr. Merrick.” Taryn said evenly. “Atop of the army of obvious agents you have shadowing us everywhere, if you don't have secret ones watching us every minute and informing you every hour, I'll eat my shield. Oh! And I would speak to the ones shadowing us and our escort today, if I were you. The ones in the green Hyundai, I think.”

Wolfe gave nothing away.

“I may have done some looking already,” he allowed, “seeing as how important Miss Kendall is to you both and how difficult her situation is at the moment. I know you two would want to try to help her sooner or later.”

He sighed.

“The real problem is that currently she has no skill sets valuable to the company. She might be able to try signing an eight-year contract where the company trains her, but that is a huge investment and she'll be locked in for that duration. The first two years would be spent out of state on an approved college campus, probably a technical college or university, then she would be sent where her skills are needed most.”

Sara was already shaking her head.

“I can't leave my parents alone that long.” she said quietly. “They're...fragile.”

Taryn nodded.

“Yes, I know. And I hadn't been thinking about a technical degree, though were the circumstances different I would urge you to take the opportunity. Actually, I was thinking something local, like an attendant or maybe something relating to us, like a hired hand. We might need the help with our appointments, or a show or something.”

Wolfe shrugged uncomfortably.

“I don't have any attendant positions available. We normally contract out to reputable companies for those skills. I'll ask around for you though and we might find something.”

“Nonsense!” interrupted a cheerful, elderly voice from the door.

“Dr. Merrick!” The girls exclaimed with genuine pleasure, turning to see him standing in the doorway with a smile on his aged face. A few more lines of care had been etched in since the Battle of Red Leaf, but overall, he remained an unchanging object in a mad world.

“Hello again. Mmm, but it is good to see both of you again. And you are the young girl with the problem, hmm?” Merrick asked, turning to the astonished Sara.

“Well, no matter. It turns out I will need an assistant to help me get myself organized and maybe take notes? No experience, hmm? Well, that will soon be fixed. I expect work to begin normally at six, but you had best be ready to come in at all sorts of odd hours, especially as you will be helping me with Sylvie and Taryn's health and assisting as best we can any problems they might encounter and send to us.”

He patted her hands with a wry little smile.

“They do keep life so interesting. Of course, as an employee you'll have access to the full medical package. Ah! Mr. Wolfe, I came up here to tell you I finished my initial thesis. Still very tentative, and bound to have holes, but I have hopes to polish it up into a working theory.”

“Thank you doctor.” Wolfe nodded. “I think you've solved at least one problem today.”

“Oh pfah! No trouble at all!” Merrik said cheerfully as he left.

The girls turned to Wolfe who gathered papers from his desk.

“Now, Miss Kendall, the terms are such for working with Golden Star Corporation...” he began.

Much later the girls thanked Wolfe as they walked out. Sara sat in stunned silence on Sylvie's back, unable to believe her luck, Taryn thought with a sly grin. Between the two of them, Sylvie and herself, they had managed to drive a good bargain for her, enough so she wouldn't have to juggle jobs anymore and still make enough to erase her family debts and keep them going to medical appointments.

She paused a moment to reflect on the bizarre chain of events that had led their biggest high school rival into such a close friend.

Of course, she has walked in fires even hotter than ours, Taryn mused. That would be enough to change anyone.

She dearly hoped Sara's luck would change for the better. No one deserved the life she'd endured so far!

When they made it to Sara's house, Taryn began to feel more hopeful. There were signs that a great effort was already underway; all the windows were open letting in a warm breeze, the lawn had been mowed and a sprinkler watered the brown grass; the car seemed buried in black trash bags shoved into the back seat and bursting from the trunk, even roped to the roof in a heavy net.

As they approached Jethro walked from the house with more bags in hand going to the car. Behind him, sweating profusely and blinking in the bright light, walked Sara's father.

“Daddy!” Sara called, waving.

They looked up and waved back but did not stop to talk. Tossing the last bag under the old green cargo net they finished securing the hooks to the roof, jumped inside, started the car and backed slowly out of the drive. With a wave and a honk they were gone up the street.

The three girls, after letting Sara off Sylvie's back and the army of agents take up position, walked inside and stood, amazed.

The floors were visible now without trash or junk piled on it; the kitchen floors had been swept and mopped; the upholstery appeared to be soaked in cleaner and scrubbed to an inch of its life.

Sara's mother and aunt came out of the laundry room, each carrying a basket piled high with clothes. Her mother seemed more cheerful than Taryn remembered; she was smiling, a genuine smile that washed years of care from her face; her clothes were now clean and not rumpled or fear-stained; her hair shone with that slightly wet luster of a recent shower. She appeared almost a stranger now.

“Mom!” Sara said, shocked.

“Sara!” her mother put down the basket on the floor and rushed to enfold her in a fierce hug.

Taryn felt a tap on her shoulder and knew immediately what Sylvie wanted. Nodding to her, they turned and slipped away as quietly as they could.

Sylvie waited until they were almost down the street.

“I think Sara is going to be fine now.” she said.

“Mhm.” Taryn nodded in agreement, remembering the change Sara's aunt had wrought in just one afternoon.

Sudden shouting behind them made everyone turn. Sara's mother was running up the street towards them, panting slightly. The cordon of agents let her pass without comment as she walked up to Sylvie and Taryn, panting heavily.

“Th-thank you.” she gasped out, her own southern drawl obviously apparent.

“For what? We didn't do much.” Sylvie said, obviously thinking of the house.

“Sara told me what you did for her today. I can-I can't thank you enough!” she said tearfully. “You've been too kind to us since, since...what happened.” her voice dropped to a mouse's whisper.

“Think nothing of it.” Sylvie said sincerely, patting her shoulder. “Sara deserves more than she got. She's a good woman, Mrs. Kendall. You can be proud of her.”

“I am.” the mousy woman said, a tremulous little smile on her lips. “Thank you. If there's anything we can do for you, anything at all, let me know.” she added surprisingly firm now.

“We will.” the girls promised.

They watched her go back to her house, walking upright and with a stride almost to match her sister's.

“Yes. I think Sara's fortunes have changed for the better.” Taryn said.

“I guess now all we have to do is go to the desert, fight some monsters, save the day, evade or destroy Nightshade, and come home happy.” Sylvie said sarcastically.

“Is that all? What will we do after lunch?” Taryn replied dryly.

“Sightsee. It is the Grand Canyon after all!”

They laughed.