Chester and the 24-hour Lottery

Chester floated in and out of consciousness for so long he wasn’t aware of anything beyond the knowledge Vanyla no longer lived. That fact alone made him refuse to get out of the bed inside the Locket farmhouse. It wasn’t so much he refused only his shattered heart and mind didn’t see the point.

Deven located a doctor to set his broken bones and Lacy fed him medication until his despondent figure healed. She also relayed Emily Allard had given up without a fight after Saldivar told her of Spell’s death and taken into Fort Ozark for crimes too numerous to count. She’d cry, sitting in the room sharing the pain until one day she left, leaving him to wallow alone. They all mourned the loss of Vanyla in a way that dulled any satisfaction knowing the state was free from tyrannical forces at last.

“Wake up!”

A sharp slap across Chester’s right cheek caused him to sullenly open his crusty eyelids. The room had been dark for days from the heavy blankets Lacy pinned over the two windows but now they were off, allowing bright sunlight to hit him square in the face.

He groaned out of self-pity, rolling over and pulling a blanket over his head. It was snatched away and Racket’s tight voice said, “You can’t stay here forever Chet.”

Anger at hearing his nickname flared briefly before he deflated, “Fuck off.”

“We have to bury Vanyla. Lacy’s keeping her in cold storage but it’s been a week. If you don’t leave this bed, I’ll bury her myself.”

Chester slowly sat up, looking at Racket for the first time since the battle in Allard. The woman wore a black shirt and pants, but her olive skin looked pale and he had to recognize she had lost someone she cared about too.

“Please,” his voice was raspy from disuse so cleared his throat before starting over, “Don’t do anything. I… I know where to bury her. Someplace special to her. To me.”

Racket sat on the mattress beside his hip and lifted her hand hesitantly before touching his shoulder, “All right. You sound better but need to shower and shave.”

He let her touch him for the simple fact it grounded him physically to a world he didn’t want to face. What did he have to look forward to after Van’s death? They planned on starting a life beside the beautiful wooded lakeside he’d named Spring Lake, after her false last name. He never got the chance to tell her that. Chester closed his eyes tightly, swallowing the searing heat of unshed tears.

Van wouldn’t want him to live like this. She’d been a doer. A fighter and tried over and over to make him see his value. He wasn’t the same man she met inside of Neighborhood March, but he still felt inept and mistrustful of any kindness.

“Where’s Garth?” he shrugged her off while sitting up against the wall.

Racket settled both hands in her lap, “Here, helping people return home or find new ones. Saldivar is alive thanks to the vest he wore. I can’t believe you tried to kill him!” Her nostrils flared and her dark eyes looked hard for a second, then she shook her head and relaxed while he tensed in preparation for a violent outburst, “I placed too much faith in a man that didn’t appreciate me or my loyalty. He’s at Fort Ozark, dismantling Spell’s projects. Lacy and a group of volunteers are at The Institute and I’m headed there tomorrow.”

He licked his dry lips and sat forward, “Can you get me a drink, please?”

She nodded and left the room. Chester slowly got out of bed, muscles weak from feeling sorry for himself, and found clothes to put on. He stank and his beard was out of control but wasn’t his main concern. He needed to convince her to not destroy The Institute if that was still her plan.

She returned with a cup of water and he thirstily chugged it down before asking, “Who named you Racket?”

She appeared surprised but answered after flopping back onto the bed, “We weren’t given names. Only numbers. A few other Construct Babes and a perverted scientist gave me my name I suppose. They experimented on me then shoved me inside of a steel cage for fun and I was so angry I threw epic tantrums until they switched to a padded cell. I used to scream and pound on the walls until I bled or they made me bleed for not complying and everyone began calling me Racket.” She said all of this in a low tired tone of voice and Chester now understood her a little better.

He frowned, “It’s a nickname? How did Vanyla get her name?”

She sighed, sitting forward with a weird gaze that made Chester uncomfortable, “She found out it was her mothers’ name and took it for herself after we escaped. Come here, Chet.”

He shuffled a few slow steps until she looked up at him with those inky brown eyes. “What?”

She reached out and snatched his hand, clutching it tightly, “I know you loved Vanyla. She was like a sister to me. Whenever I spiraled she was there to bring me back because she understood I’m not like the other Construct Babes. They pushed me harder because of my specific genome sequencing but I always bounced back knowing one day my life would be my own. I’m not Vanyla but… I think I love you.”

He swallowed hard, words caught in his tight throat. There was no way Racket understood love. Not the kind he and Van had. She only knew how to manipulate and hurt people. Her dark eyes stared pleading up at him with sincerity but he only felt numbness. Everything she’d said and done to him since they’d met had been heavy-handed and without remorse. Once he might have thrown a fit and reminded her of all the crazy shit she pulled but he didn’t have the energy.

“You don’t love me,” he wiggled out of her hold, “We have never gotten along. Why you would say that?”

She sprang up grabbing onto the front of his shirt and he stood ridged as her face stopped inches from his, “I picked you, Chester. Watched you. You are alone, like me. I realize you’re hurting, but I feel something I’ve never allowed myself to experience before. We can be together and live a fantastic life!”

Be together?

He was so confused and unnerved by the raw honesty in her purring voice he wished he could comfort Racket but didn’t have it in him. There was nobody but Vanyla in his soul and there would never be another woman capable of making him feel the way she had with a simple smirk of her pink lips or leer of those green eyes she’d regard him with while he worshiped her body in the hopes one day she would carry his child. Racket had never been kind or even remotely romantic towards him all these weeks. Was she simply lost without Saldivar, hoping he would take his place?

He tried to change the subject while gently prying her away, “I need to shower. Can you make sure those that want to be present for Van’s burial are here by tomorrow?”

“Chester,” Racket’s voice wavered, dark eyes glistening, and he broke out in a nervous sweat, “I thought if I stepped back letting Vanyla have a happy ending after all her suffering these feelings would go away but they haven’t. The things I did to you in Acheron were only to strengthen you, and it worked! You killed Spell and organized the people here when they needed it most and helped raid the armory. You’re so smart and good… I love you.”

“Racket,” he sighed, holding both of her hands in the space between their bodies, “Stop. I love Van. She’s dead but not gone. Not from my mind and not from my fucking heart that hurts every damn time I think of her. I know you thought you were helping me, but I’m not the one for you. I never will be.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she stepped away, dropping their joined hands, “You feel nothing for me? Not even lust?”

Running his fingers through his hair in frustration snapped, “Dammit Racket! Can’t you see how messed up I am? Van sacrificed her life for me and you want me to be with you like she never mattered? Not only is it disrespectful to her memory it’s unimaginable that I could ever be with someone like you. I feel nothing but antipathy right now. When we fucked that was all it was. You came onto me with threats against my mother remember?”

She swallowed and hugged her middle as if she needed to protect herself from his harsh, and honest words. He’d never seen the woman appear so vulnerable. Racket was a soldier and a bitch who never considered her psychotic behavior may one day bite her in her perky ass.

He took a deep breath and went to look out of the window. The field below had turned muddy from the rain that morning and he watched citizens packing up to leave. There were less than half remaining on the property and a small smile tugged at his lips knowing these people would have a chance to build a future any way they wanted now.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Racket huffed from behind, “I say and do things normal people don’t but I’m not normal Chester. I thought you understood that and felt the connection between us.”

He turned to see her dark eyes fixed on him like she was seconds away from punching him in the face. Hard. “We’re friends. We will always be friends after the shit we’ve been through Racket. Can you promise me something?”

She tugged her short hair behind her ears and wetly sniffed as if trying to hold back tears and it hurt his heart further knowing he was the reason. Everything was so messed up and if he figured for one sick minute Racket was falling in love with him, he would have handled her differently. Hell, he probably would have made everyone puked by showing how much he loved Van, showering the woman with affection and undisguised obsession only true soul mates understood.

“I don’t make promises.” She grumbled, staring past him out the window.

“Van and I spoke about your plan to destroy The Institute and she wanted you to be better than that. There’s no way in hell that’s a safe or reasonable thing to do. Help children locate their families and since you know full well the psychological aftermath they’ll experience after such trauma, lead them in recovery and maybe you’ll find peace and an actual name. Perhaps, Pam? Fran?”

She didn’t laugh at his attempt to lighten the request with a joke and the chilly silence that fell worried him. Her mouth worked, and he feared she was forming the proper fuck you so he scrambled to suggest something else but Henry appeared in the open doorway with a plate of food.

“Good, you’re awake,” he smiled until he read the room, “I brought you lunch but I can go.”

“I’m leaving and not coming back,” Racket spoke calmly and looked Chester in the eye, making sure he caught her meaning, “I have nothing to stay for, do I?”

“Hey!” he growled, following her when she spun on her boots marching past Henry, “Promise you won’t destroy those facilities! The damage could be devastating! There are great things that can come from these places. Erase bad memories. I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want but I care about your well being.”

Racket turned and slapped him soundly across the face, making his ears ring, “Does that answer your question? If we met again, you’ll regret it. I hate you.”

Stunned, he stood in the hallway allowing her to run away. He should have chased her, if only to make sure she realized there was a different way to live and people cared about her, including him, but he let her go, turning back to take the food silently from Henry who gave him a sad smile.

“She fell in love with me!” Chester placed the plate on top of a low two drawer dresser feeling nauseous just looking at the steaming steak and vegetables, “I’m an asshole but didn’t see this coming.”

“I had an idea when she would beat the shit out of anyone unlucky enough to say anything about you and Van playing house in that tent,” he smirked leaning against the doorjamb, “I kinda dig Racket’s energy but she’s too psychotic. I’d be afraid she’d cut off my balls while I slept if she disliked something I said.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, running a hand across his scruffy face, “Everything is fucking wrong, isn’t it? Van’s supposed to be here celebrating our freedom instead I pissed off her friend and will bury her where we planned to live.”

“At the lake?”

Chester jerked in surprise and a little jealousy, “Yes. Did she take you there?”

“Everyone around here knows about the lake but whenever Van went missing, that’s where she’d be, laying in the grass like a carefree girl instead of someone capable of killing you ten different ways.”

“Just so you know, I could have killed you eight different ways.” The memory ran through his mind after their confrontation with Garth where Van protected him and then he’d thrown it in her face as reckless behavior.

“She was truly fearless.” Chester admitted, once more overcome with pangs of sorrow and guilt, “Why do you think she did it? Stepped in front of me like that?”

“I honestly can’t say,” Henry stood up straight with watery eyes, “but I think she’d wish to be buried there. In fact, I know that’s what she would want.”

“Spring Lake,” he nodded and sighed, “I need to clean up.”

“After you shower, come out to the barn. Deven and Garth are there and we have to show you something.”

He agreed and fifteen minutes later walked out of the farmhouse, showered and shaved feeling slightly better after inhaling fresh air. He wandered to the barn, nodding in acknowledgment at people who waved noticing how happy everyone seemed wishing for anything but the searing ache in his chest.

Garth greeted him inside, clasping his narrow shoulder with an affable smile, “Good to see you snapped out of it. I heard about Racket. She’ll be back once she cools off.”

Chester simply shrugged, glaring at Henry who had the decency to look embarrassed for gossiping like a bunk monitor. Deven motioned him further into the space and they shuffled to the far right where a tarp concealed a large bump.

“What’s this?”

“Take a gander.” Henry kicked the canvas.

Chester lifted one side and then pulled it free, gazing at solar lamps and panels, camping gear, and a huge tent similar to what Crane lived in. The men smiled awkwardly as his throat tightened with the realization it was all for living lakeside. He froze and couldn’t utter a damn word without breaking into a million pieces.

“Vanyla procured these things weeks ago,” Garth lifted a cooking pot, “She knew we’d succeed bringing down Spell and Allard, and we did, but now it’s up to you whether you live her dream. Whatever you decide, it’ll be here.”

Chester backed away, shaking from the knowledge she gathered supplies, probably as a surprise. “It became my dream too. I can’t kill anymore. I can’t fight anymore. I’ve got nothing left. Vanyla didn’t want to either that’s why we planned to start over by the lake.”

“Then take this shit and live a peaceful life,” Deven softly responded, “There’s no need for you to do anything you don’t want to anymore. We’re all free. I’m just glad I met you and Vanyla would be proud of how you brought everyone together in Allard. She was selfless would have taken a bullet for each of us. Her death is not your fault.”

He shook his head and continued to back away, “Wasn’t it? I shot Saldivar. He’s taking charge, isn’t he?”

“Not as much as the next guy,” Garth snorted, “Shit is beyond crazy in the neighborhoods now.”

“Like a free for all,” Deven agreed, stepping closer to Garth, “We can start over too.”

Chester snapped his head up from his dark thoughts and took in the look the two men shared. Oh, why didn’t he see this coming? He internally rolled his eyes at Van having the last laugh over his misplaced jealousy of her friend. Deven never checked her out the way he did Garth.

“We will, once I help Chester and rescue the children from The Institute,” Garth touched Deven’s arm, “Can you wait?”

“For you?” Deven winked, “I can. As I said, we’re free to do anything and anyone we want now.”

“Tomorrow morning,” Chester cleared his throat, “I plan to bury her in the woods beside the lake. Will you tell Lacy?”

“Yes, I’ll contact her myself.” Henry readily volunteered, “In the meantime let’s load this stuff up.”

Chester sadly nodded at the men who turned into a family over the last few months. The hole in his heart was raw and bleeding like it would never heal knowing he should be dead and Van the one standing with friends but these guys had his back, and he theirs. Vanyla had a way of bringing opposites together with her charming smiles and wit and he would forever be grateful for her gifts.