September 16 | Night

The dark sky was ominous, and lightning flashed purple in the clouds. Thunder exploded in a cacophony of sound and fury overhead. I was stranded. Somewhere in Texas. I had driven nonstop from Baton Rouge, but Dex's prized spy car had been remotely disabled and couldn't go another mile. I refused to even look at it, heart too heavy with remorse.

"What did you think you would do, Legend? Sell it to some chop shop?" I kicked a clod of dirt by the roadside, cursing my bad luck. Because that was exactly what I had planned to do. Money from the stolen car would've helped me escape the reaches of both human and Supernatural authorities, but now that option wasn't on the table.

The sounds of the night pressed in, the chirping of crickets and keening of cicadas. The rustling of pine needles in the wind warned of coming rain. I stepped onto the highway and scanned both directions, unsure which way to go.

Up ahead, there were signs of commerce, maybe within walking distance. An eighteen-wheeler sped by with a blare of its horn, nearly knocking me off my feet, and I scowled after it. Then heavy raindrops began to fall, filling the air with the smell of dust and exhaust. I took off toward the distant lights.

In the lonely darkness, Abuela Maya's face flashed before my eyes. I squeezed my eyelids tight, as if I could shut off my thoughts. Everything had fallen apart so spectacularly. I desperately wanted a second chance to make things right. However, redemption wasn't coming. I had packed my broken heart and few belongings into the backpack slung now over my shoulder, had taken one last look at the two women who had made my life worth living for a while, then walked out the door, knowing I would never see Nixie or Dex again.

As I hurried deeper into the night, brutal emotions dogged my steps. I was spurred by paranoia that the cops would swoop down on me at any moment. A part of me knew that Dex hadn't alerted anyone to the fact that I had stolen her car. She had more than likely disabled it, personally. For the headstart, I was grateful. But it was Van der Woodsen and OASIS that I really worried about. I had no time to stew in my emotions. I needed to get beyond the agency's reach as quickly and covertly as possible.

At length, I arrived at a sprawling truck stop in the middle of nowhere. It was home to a restaurant, a convenience store, and a laundromat, surrounded by enough concrete to park dozens of big rigs. Neon signs advertised everything from casino slots to hot showers, and the smell of diesel fuel and fried food cloyed the air. The place rumbled like a beast that never slept.

I wove my way through a maze of trucks, grimacing at the gruff noise of their idling engines and the smoke billowing from their tailpipes. Drivers, weary from their travels, sat in their cabs staring at phones or meandered around the motley establishment. I tried to blend in.

A few elderly men hunched over their coffees in the restaurant glanced up as I walked into the store, dripping wet from the rain. I wondered if my face had been on the news again. I lowered my head. The floors were sticky and had a checkered pattern of red and white tiles. A family of late night travelers tried not to touch anything in the dingy surroundings as they flinched their way past me to the restrooms. I grabbed a stale corndog and a canned tea–all I could afford.

"I like your tattoos." The cashier ringing me up fluttered false eyelashes at me.

"Hmm?" I mumbled, preoccupied with trying to strategize my next moves. I dumped my bag into a busted leather booth in the restaurant. Parking my elbows on the crummy red formica table, I took a bite of the corndog. It was dry and flavorless, but I was hungry so I ate it anyway. I sighed and looked around the place.

There was no telling how far OASIS had disseminated word that I was back on the Wanted list. I needed to cross the border, find a way to rebuild my life, but that was impossible without the right people and resources. I dug out my phone and reluctantly called David. When he didn't answer, I muttered a frustrated expletive. Of course, he wouldn't answer.

My second-in-command hadn't responded to any of my calls or texts since my daring rescue of him and the rest of the gang, and I wondered if our relationship had been severed for good. Any previous feelings of loneliness I had experienced were nothing compared to what I felt at that moment.

Real and figurative casualties had accumulated in my wake. Now, everything that had gone wrong came back to me. From concealing the truth about the money I owed Brody Hartfeld to making a deal with Delilah and allowing her to reconnect with Darcy, each decision suddenly felt selfish and short-sighted, and I tried to recall why I had felt I had no choice. But the tired habit of making excuses for my bad behavior made me sick.

Unexpected tears sprang to my eyes. I hadn't taken a moment to grieve, busy running from my mistakes. I buried my head in my arms, feeling like I should be cast away from society. For a brief moment, Nixie and Dex had made me believe I could be somebody different, that people could admire me for who I was, instead of the stories I made up. I had repaid their trust by being responsible for the losses of their loved ones.

Maybe I wasn't noble enough or courageous enough to be anything other than a cardboard cut-out of a stand-up guy. With one wish, I would go back to the start of August and turn down that fateful offer of a get out of jail free card. If I had it to do over, I would've served my time. I had deserved it.

Lost in self pity, I almost missed the grizzled truck driver trudging past me. He tipped his beat-up baseball cap in my direction, and I discreetly wiped my eyes and tried to pretend like I was preoccupied by my phone, but when he came back through from fixing himself a huge plastic cup of soda, he paused.

"You okay, kid?" he asked, his voice gruff but kind.

I looked down at my hands. "Yeah. I just...I messed up so bad."

The truck driver's face softened. "I know how you feel. I've fucked shit up pretty bad a time or two my damn self. Always in hindsight, I'd realize that I didn't do as much harm as I thought I did. You want to talk about it?" he asked.

I nodded, but I didn't say anything. How did I tell a stranger that I was responsible for lost lives, two broken hearts, and a failed top secret operation that would impact the whole world? How did I explain what I had found and what I had lost in Nixie and Dex? How could he possibly understand?

The truck driver put his hand on my shoulder. "It's okay to cry. It's healthy."

I took a deep breath. "It's just that I'm out of money, my car broke down, and I've torpedoed my relationships with everyone who ever cared about me. I've been sitting here, wondering what on earth I'm gonna do with myself. But I'll figure it out... Thanks," I said. I was so embarrassed that I started crying. I lowered my head and wished he would just go away.

After a while, the truck driver patted me on the back. "You're gonna be alright, kid. All you gotta do is the next right thing. Where you headed? Maybe I can give you a ride."

"Which way are you going?" I looked up.

"South," he said.

"The border?" I dared hope.

He eyed me shrewdly before nodding. "Let me fuel up, and I'll be ready to go in fifteen."

I smiled back, grabbed my bag, and slid out of the booth. But then my phone rang. "Uh, I'll meet you outside," I said to the truck driver. The caller ID showed a number I hadn't seen in a long time. I held my breath as I brought the phone to my ear and answered. "Mamo?"

***

It felt like I hadn't heard my mother's voice in ages, and her gentle greeting filled me with a wave of warmth and love. The tears welling up in my eyes spilled over as I laughed and cried and laughed again. "So you heard?" I asked, understanding why she must have called. Word must have reached my family that I was once again a fugitive. I didn't know what the official story was. As far as anyone outside of OASIS knew, I had been locked up for the past month and a half.

"Come home," Mamo said simply.

I bit the inside of my jaw. "If I do that, they'll arrest me."

"If you don't, I'm afraid they'll find a way to make sure that you never come back to me."

A heavy silence descended between us because I knew she was right. Running now meant the only way I'd return was in a coffin. I was suddenly flooded with memories of the good times my family had shared. The Liangs weren't perfect by any measure, but there was no denying the emptiness that would be left by never seeing them again. I didn't think the feeling was mutual, and I said as much.

"I mean, it was made abundantly clear," I grumbled as I walked away from the store to take the call in the relative privacy of the parking lot, "that I'm no longer welcome with the Liangs." My eyes skimmed the faces of truck drivers in search of the man who had offered me a ride across the border. I spotted him fueling up.

"Your father is an emotional person. Sometimes he says things that he does not mean. It's not always easy to undo the damage once the damage is done," she replied lightly. I grunted in assent, recognizing the opening for what it was, an opportunity to see what my dad and I had in common.

The issues I had with my family were more than just misunderstandings and saying things we didn't mean. "None of this would have gone so far if you had just told us the truth," I muttered.

"If I had told the truth?" she scoffed.

"Yes, you! Who could blame Dad for reacting the way that he did and washing his hands of me? And who could blame me for using everything at my disposal to try to get on a level playing field with my siblings? I've spent years trying to prove I belonged in this family, but everyone knows I don't."

"That's your truth?" She sighed.

I knew I sounded immature and petty, but I had nothing else to lose, and I wanted to end the relationship knowing that the unspoken issue had finally been addressed. I cocked an eyebrow and folded my arms. "Go ahead and say it. Tell me I'm not the outside kid, if you can do that with integrity." I could see her in my mind's eye, her glossy orbs bright with discomfort, her lips pressed together as she fought the urge to confess the ugly complications of the past. At the same time, I pictured her proud shoulders straightening and her chin lifting, because I sensed that she was ready to be honest with me.

"I should have done this years ago," she agreed. "My son, your parentage was never in question. I was never unfaithful to my husband. I thought that by not dignifying the rumors with a response, eventually people would get sick of the gossip. Unfortunately, I never took into consideration how you might have experienced the fallout, growing up.

"The tension you've always sensed within your father's and my marriage had nothing to do with you, directly. It's just that you were conceived at a time when my parents were convinced that your father was all wrong for me.

"You see, we fell in love despite my parents' disapproval. He was a struggling businessman, and I was often unhappy and lonely in the early years. Raising so many children, so close in age, was taxing for me. My own career ambitions were put on hold to help your father chase his dreams.

"I remember one time when I was so overwhelmed with everything that I just broke down and cried on the phone with my mother. I feared my parents had been right. I'm not proud of my lapse in judgement. I felt like I was drowning, and there was no one to help me except them. I didn't know how much longer I could keep going. So, for a time, while I was pregnant with you, I went back to my parents' house and considered divorce.

"Your father took it hard. We both thought about what sucha move would do to you and your siblings, and we vowed to keep going for you. My children were my reason for living, and I would do anything for you. So I picked myself up and kept going. It wasn't easy, but I did it. And I'm so glad that I did. Because you are the best thing that has ever happened to me." She sniffled quietly. "I love you, and I'm so proud of the person you're becoming. I know you will do the right thing."

"Mamo, how?" I swallowed the lump in my throat as I realized tears were streaming down my face. "You can't fathom the situation I'm in. Don't be proud of me. My one foolish mistake has jeopardized the entire world. I—I can't even tell you everything. Just know that if I return, all hell will break loose."

"My dear, running from your problems will not solve them," she whispered thickly. "Your father and I are willing to buy you a bus ticket home, where we hope you will turn yourself in. Whatever happens next, you will not face it alone. You never have. No matter how despair has tried to deceive you, no matter what has been said or done, we are connected in our hearts, and so you are never alone. Come home, Legend."

The truck driver nodded at me and tipped his hat, as if to ask if I was ready to leave. I clutched the phone to my ear, feeling the tightness of indecision in my throat. I had a sure way across the border. But if I ran, I would never stop running. Yet, if I went home, could I ever make up for all the things that had gone wrong? Would love still be there for me?

    ***

The next part will become free from December 18, 2023, but until then, it can be unlocked for only 5 Coins!