Free Epitaph Road by David Patneaude Page A

The door was closed. I paused, listening. I heard a woman’s voice, just one. One side of a phone conversation, it sounded like, but the words didn’t filter through. Just the inflections and tones and attitude. It was the old lady, Rebecca Mack.
    I got upstairs and walked down the hallway to the big bedroom Mom and Aunt Paige shared. Another closed door. There was an epidemic of them. I heard voices. They sounded agitated or angry or something. I didn’t care. I knocked.
    Mom came to the door. She didn’t open it all the way. Now she didn’t look happy. I saw Aunt Paige’s reflection in a wall mirror. Her face was flushed.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” I said.
    â€œI’ll talk to you later,” Mom said.
    â€œHow long will you be home this time?” I said.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œYou were going to tell me about Dad, when I could go see him.”
    â€œNot for a while.”
    â€œYou said soon . In a while I’ll be all involved with my trials. Right now I’m ahead on my reading and everything.”
    â€œWe’ll talk after dinner.” She shut the door in my face. I heard the latch click. I stood there for a moment, wanting to pound through the brittle old wood. Instead, I went to my room and sat on my bed, boiling inside, fingering through Slaughterhouse-Five.
    After a moment I realized I was mutilating the poor pages. White-knuckled, I slammed the book shut and tossed it on the floor. I wasn’t in a mood to read. Mom had practically promised me I could visit Dad, and now she was backing out? Why?
    I slid a chair into my closet. In its ceiling was a trapdoor to the attic. I stood on the chair, pushed the door aside, and pulled myself up. The low, cramped space was warm, and I began sweating immediately. The weak dust-flecked light came only from vents in the walls.
    The attic ran the length of the house. I knew it like I knew my own room. I’d spent a ton of time up here, taking a break from the constant attention, listening to conversations from time to time when the feeling arrived that something was about to affect me.
    Like now.
    The key thing was being quiet. I was already on my belly. I pushed, pulled, and slithered my way toward Mom and Aunt Paige’s room, a few inches at a time, until I was there.
    I held perfectly still. Their voices rose like smoke, bumping into the ceiling below me, wafting through.
    â€œYou’re being terribly thickheaded,” Mom said. “But let me say it one last time. We don’t have a choice. Our own operative — beyond reliable — reports that they’re in the final phase.”
    â€œThey’re too close to Seattle,” Aunt Paige said. “And civilization. You can’t guarantee the quarantine won’t be breached. And then what?”
    â€œThe alternative is unthinkable,” Mom said. “We can’t allow their work to see the light of day. Especially with the latest analysis from PAC Intelligence.”
    â€œYou’re talking about my brother , who once meant everything to you. You’re talking about your son. ”
    â€œI’ve made arrangements for Kellen to go east,” Mom said. My heart pounded in my chest. I hoped it wasn’t reverberating through the boards. I was going east ? Why? When was she going to tell me this wonderful news? What about Dad? My trials? My life ?
    â€œWe’ve got to warn Charlie,” Aunt Paige said. Charlie. My dad.
    â€œWe can’t. We can’t consider it. He’s involved. He’d warn the others.”
    â€œHis involvement is minimal. We can make up a lie to get him out of there.”
    â€œHe’s not stupid, Paige. He’d suspect.”
    â€œNo, he wouldn’t. ” Aunt Paige’s voice shook. “I’ll think of something. ”
    I heard a knock on their door, footsteps across the hardwood floor, and Mom’s voice: “Rebecca.”
    â€œCan we talk?” Rebecca Mack