Chapter 4: Draft

Em lived across the bay. The gentle humm-tap humm-tap of the bridge suddenly gave way to the intrusive hisshh of old asphalt-covered concrete.

The change in the road's timbre broke Alex out of his stunned silence.

"Damn, Em, that was, like, serious."
"I'm just a beacon of joy, aren't I?"
"But your grandfather said it was a one-time thing, right?"
Em raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't mean I believe him."
"Are you afraid he'll ask, or are you afraid you'll say yes?"

Em's eyes flashed, but she quickly affected disinterest and looked out the side window. "What are you, my shrink?"
Alex tried to make light. "Well, you were on my couch."
Her tone was sarcastic. "Ha. Some therapy."
But he played it straight. "I'll say."

She punched him in the arm.

Alex kept quiet. Was she mad? Or was that a smirk?

"Take 23rd," she said, pointing at the road sign ahead.

The road noise changed again, the buzz of grooved concrete turning to the percolation of cracked and potholed asphalt.

"I just don't want to be in the high-end logistics business," she said unprompted.
"Yeah, handling important and valuable items, solving complex problems, visiting exotic locales in your private jet, directing a small army, that would really suck."
"Filling out forms, arguing with bureacrats, getting screamed at by angry customers, working with crazy people ... you're right, how could I not love it? --Go straight."

"Well, anyway, if your Granddad has a private jet, I'm sure he can afford to hire somebody qualified."
"Then why is there an axe in the back of your car? --Left up here."
"Are all of their customers like that? You know, has to be a family member?"
"No, just the one, as far as I know."
"So it's just a one-time thing," Alex assurred. "Next year your dad can do it. Your uncle's death just kind of caught them by surprise."
"I guess. --Keep going, about another mile."
"Okay."

Alex wasn't going to say anything more. He just busied himself with driving.

"It's the Smiths," Em blurted out. "They creep me out."

Alex took a deep breath as his brain picked through what he remembered. "Well, I'll admit it's a little strange, but a lot of religious ceremonies seem strange to outsiders. Have you looked into it?"
"That's just it. Google and Wikipedia have nothing."
"Well, 'Smith' isn't exactly an unusual name. You ever axe your grandfather?" He grinned at his pun.
"Dude, did you just say 'axe'?"
"Sorry."
"About a man with one hand?"
Alex cringed. "Oh, right."
"Besides, I didn't know it was an axe until tonight."
"I meant in general, about the Smiths. --Is it a family name?"
"I don't know, I always assumed so."
"Because, you know, the axe..."
"Hmm? Oh, you mean like a blacksmith."
"Yeah."
"Could be."
"So ... did you? Ask your grandfather?"
"You mean the Storyteller?"
"Oh."
"Well I used to ask him, when I was little, but if he told me anything specific I don't remember it. Anything real, I mean. Mostly he just repeated the family motto, or launched into another adventure story, or..." Em trailed off.

"What?"
"Just stuff about star charts and calculations to find the location for the next package."
"Your grandfather could write a series of children's books."
"Don't give him any ideas. I don't wanna be Harry Potter."
"Don't you mean Hermione?"
"Why does the hero always have to be a guy?"

Whatever. "So the Smiths are a little mysterious," Alex said with a shrug. "So are a lot of religions."
"What if it's not a religion?"
"Like what, a business?"
"Illegal business."
"What, like drugs?"
"Yeah. Or stolen goods. What if the axe is some priceless artifact?"
"It looked new to me."
"What if the axe isn't the merchandise? What if it's the packaging?"

"Like what, the crate itself? Or maybe the shavings it was packed in?" Some of which blew away when the crate broke open...

"I don't know. Maybe."
"I doubt it. I mean, if the axe isn't the important part, why an axe? Why an axe like that? Heck, it's probably illegal on its own, or at least regulated in some way." Oh yeah, that helped. "Besides, do you think your grandfather would involve you in something like that without telling you?"

"What if he didn't have a choice?" Em looked at Alex; she looked a little freaked. "It was a closed casket."
"Huh?"
"My uncle."
"So?"
"He supposedly died of a heart attack."
"Well ... maybe ... maybe that's what he wanted. Maybe it was in his will."
"That's a weird thing to specify."
"Some people think corpses look creepy."
"You think?"
"I mean, the way they make them up in a casket. The makeup isn't always convincing. Or flattering."
"Or maybe it wasn't a heart attack. And maybe my dad isn't... 'busy.'"

"And maybe I'm an undercover cop who's using you to get to the Smiths." Alex felt Em's burning stare, and braced for another punch in the arm. "I'm kidding." Whack! "Ow, that one hurt."
"Don't make fun of me, then."
"I'm not making fun of you. Look, if you really think your family is working for criminals, why not ask--"
"--my Granddad? If he wanted me to know he would have told me."
"I was going to say your grandmother."

"Oh." Em looked around, then started waving excitedly. "Go back, go back, we missed it!"

"What? Where?"
"Just ... um, turn right here, we'll go around the back."

They were in an old neighborhood on the other side of the bay, a mix of retail, apartments, and mostly-abandoned industrial buildings. The main drag had seen a pretty recent urban renewal effort, with a freshly-planted median and angled street parking and fashionably-faux-bricked crosswalks, but just one block away now saw broken cars and barred windows and every architectural fad that could be squeezed into ten units or less.

"That's my building on the corner." It was better-looking than the rest, probably even modern when it was built, all concrete and glass, with low-slung cantilevered balconies and big windows. "Go around, you can park on the side."
Alex was surprised. "You want me to come up?"
Em rolled her eyes. "I need you to help me with the axe, silly."
"Oh." When they'd left his boss' house, he hadn't expected her to invite him up, but on the drive over as she shared more about herself, he'd started hoping...
Wait, did she mean she needed him to help her bring the axe up to her apartment, or she needed him to help her deliver it? Surely with all the angst and all the questions she'd just raised, she wasn't going to do it alone -- heck, she didn't have transportation anyway. But ... maybe she wasn't going to do it at all. But if it was something ... non-trivial, the recipients would be "upset" and what would they do then?

Alex parked. When he shut off the engine, the silence was intensely uncomfortable.

Em put her hand on his arm before he opened his door. "Listen, Alex, that idea about calling my Grams is a good one. I don't know if she'll tell me anything, but ... it really doesn't really matter. I mean, maybe it is just a prop for some harmless ceremony. Maybe it's a message from one druglord to another, or the murder weapon from some hit. Maybe it's just a really weird gift. Maybe the Smiths are gonna use it to sacrifice a virgin. I don't know. You're probably right -- it's probably nothing and I'll feel really stupid. But whatever it is, I have to do it, because Granddad asked me to, and that's who I am."

Probably nothing? Alex wondered if he'd really said that; he wasn't as sure as that made him sound. But it was probably best if she thought he thought that, so he wasn't going to correct her.

Wait ... if she was going to deliver the axe -- back on the other side of the bay ... She had to be assuming he'd go with her, right? She'd say something if she had other transportation plans. Unless with all the stress she just forgot that her car was wrecked -- that was possible, wasn't it?

He wanted to ask her ... what was next, but he didn't know how to put it without possibly sounding like an idiot, so he decided he'd just follow her lead. At least defer awkwardness and humiliation until they were inside...

It had stopped raining somewhere along the way. Alex followed Em up the side stairs and past the elevator to #214, one before the end of the other hallway.

She turned around and leaned on the still-locked door.
That wasn't good, was it?

"So, Alex, listen..." Here it comes: the brush-off. He'd heard enough of them to know how they started. "You've really really helped me on a really really bad night, and I'm really really grateful, but right now I'm just tired, and I need to fill the tub and light some candles and pour some wine and put on some Norah Jones and veg out, okay?"

Yep, that was Goodbye all right. "I get it. Girl stuff."
"Yeah."

So should he ask about the axe? Why? She would have said something if she'd wanted him to know -- she'd been super-sharing all night long, when she stopped, that was a sign, a big END sign...

"And I'm sure you wanna go home or wherever and recharge, maybe shower, eat something and stuff..."
"Yeah..." Did she have to point out that he had no life, too?

"You don't mind, do you?" Mind? Of course not, kick him while he's down, why mind? --Wait, mind what? "Taking off and coming back."
Coming back? The words couldn't leave his mouth fast enough. "No, of course not."
"I'll pay you for gas and tolls and stuff."
"Yeah." He wondered if it was obvious that he was trying not to jump up and down cheering. "Um, what time?"
"Well, if I don't call you before, like, 11:30? Is that enough time?"
"Here at 11:30? Sure." It's a date! It's a date! It's a date!
"Okay then."

She just stood there looking at him.
He just stood there, grinning like an idiot.
"So..." she prompted.
"So..." what? Was she going to go inside?
"Are you gonna give me your number or what?"
"Oh!" He started fishing in his coat pockets -- he knew he had a pen, but he didn't think he had any paper...
She held out a marker between two fingers of her flattened palm. "Write it here."
Alex tried not to tremble as he wrote it.

She made sure she could read it, then smiled. "Cool."
"Cool," Alex nodded, and turned to go.
"Waitasecond!"
"What?"
"The axe?"
"Oh." He supposed they could have left it in his car. But then he wouldn't have had to come up here. Was that on purpose? Did she not want him to go, was it one of those indirect girl-communication things, where he was supposed to know what she wanted, as some kind of test? Was he going to blow it right here?
"I guess we could have left it in your car, but ... well, in case anything happens, it's probably better if I keep it with me."
"Okay."
"You can just set it down, I'll drag it inside."
"No I don't mind," he said without really thinking.
"Alex, I don't remember what condition my apartment's in, but it's probably not the best, and even if it was, a girl needs a little mystery, and in your case, this is about all I've got left."