BLUE BIRD

BLUE BIRD
DAMIEN'S POV

I took Noah to school that morning, his little hands still clutching mine as if holding onto the world's only certain things in chaos. His eyes were red at the rims, with a mixture of tears and sleepless nights, and I swallowed hard, forcing myself to be the anchor he needed.

“You’re going to be okay, buddy,” I whispered, kneeling next to him. “Mommy’s coming back. I promise. She’s going to see you soon. You just… you just need to get through school for a little bit. Deal?”

"No," he mumbled, crossing his arms and pouting, quivering. "I no wanna do school. I miss her too much. She should be here."

I set a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it once. "I know, Noah. I know. But you can't miss her more than she misses you. She's out there, she's safe, and she's thinking about you every single second."

He sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Do you think she’s scared?”

"Maybe a little," I admitted. "But she's brave, just like her dad. And guess what? She'll see you soon. I promise you'll get to hug her."

He attempted a smile, but it was half-hearted. “Promise?”

I laughed softly, ruffling his hair. “Scout’s honor. But now… we gotta get through schoolwork, okay? Or I’ll have to tell your teacher that you were daydreaming about her all day.”

He giggled. Fragile, really, but real. And my chest hurt. That laugh—it wasn't enough. Not yet. But it was a start. “Deal,” he said.

I dropped him off and drove straight back to the location Vivian said Lena had been kept. There were empty streets. Dust stretched for miles and silence to boot. I sat a moment, gripping the wheel, running my hands over my face. My chest ached. I needed answers. I needed to see her.

I had almost forgotten the world existed outside my obsession to find her. My cell phone buzzed once in the cup holder-I left it there, my mind elsewhere. I didn't need calls or distractions. I needed Lena.

This place… it was supposed to be the answer. I'd waited hours, scanning abandoned buildings, knocking on doors, asking anyone I could find. No one had seen her. Every time I thought I was close, it slipped further away. I felt like I was running in circles. Every lead felt like some kind of cruel joke.

Then word came that a bus might arrive this morning out into the suburban outskirts. I didn't waste a moment. I ran to the terminal, dodged through the sleeping morning crowd, and thrust cash at the driver well in excess of the fare, but I didn't care. I just wanted to move, to follow the only breadcrumb that might lead me to her.

The bus rumbled down the cracked asphalt roads, and I clutched at the printed picture of Lena. Her eyes stared up at me, calm and strong, and my chest tightened. I left my phone on the bus, deliberately. I didn't want to be distracted by anything. Nothing. Just her.

Coming into the suburban town, I stepped off into silence. Empty streets stretched before me; the buildings were sparse and faded, their windows all dark. The air smelled like dust and rust. My boots scuffed over gravel and cracked concrete. I asked anyone that I passed-shopkeepers, a man fixing a fence, a woman walking a dog-but no one had seen her.

I found a small, discarded-looking bar. I walked in; the smell of stale alcohol and mildew hit my senses. A half-empty bottle sat on the counter. I poured a measure of whiskey; the amber liquid was trembling in the glass. I sipped it slowly, letting it burn a path down my throat, trying to ground myself. I had asked nearly everyone. Nearly everyone. Yet, I was still nowhere closer to finding her.

I pulled out the picture again. My eyes traced her features as though committing them to memory might conjure her back to me. Victory was so near, yet maddeningly out of reach. I had to have it. I had to see her, be certain she was safe. I had to have that closure-or at least that hope.

I let my mind wander further and thought of Noah, of a life we had, of the two weeks I'd spent running in circles chasing shadows. I nursed my drink-half-empty-when the bell above the door jingled.

A little, wispy old lady shuffled in, her eyes scanning the room. “Bluebird?” she called softly. “Bluebird?”

I barely registered her words. My gaze stayed on my drink, swirling it absentmindedly. She looked around again, muttering to herself. Then, something compelled me to stand. I don't know why I moved toward her, but some nagging thought-maybe I had skipped someone, maybe I hadn't asked everyone-made me step closer.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. My voice was low and gravelly. “I… I know nothing about your cat, but… I’m looking for somebody. My wife. Have you… seen her?”

Her eyes, now sharp and alert, caught mine. I held out the picture.

She studied it, her lips pressing into a thin line. Then wordlessly, she clamped a firm grip on my wrist. My heart thumped in surprise. Her grip was surprising, commanding. She looked around like a hawk, checking out the room, and then she whispered, "Come with me."

The hum of excitement buzzed in me, crawling up my spine. My pulse raced. Finally. Finally, something. Someone. A lead.

We went out into the glaring sun that seemed to spin over the deserted streets. I kept my eyes on hers. "Have you… have you seen her?" I asked, my voice breaking slightly, urgency sharpening every word.

She didn't answer right away. Her eyes were fixed on mine, unblinking. Then, in slow motion, she rummaged through her purse. I thought she might hand me something—information, a clue, anything—but instead, she closed it back and slapped my face with it.

It was such a shock that stopped me mid-step and sent a stinging sensation through my cheek. My breath hitched. The world seemed to tilt slightly.

“Why—” I began, but she cut me off with a severe glare. Her eyes flashed with warning and determination.

I grasped the wrist she hadn't yet pulled from mine, steadying myself, heart hammering.

"You-what does this mean? Have you seen her? Do you know where she is? Tell me!" My voice rose in desperation and fury.

She didn't blink. She just stared, mute, lethal in her quiet. The slap had been on purpose, calculated to surprise, to probe.

And it had succeeded. My heart thundered in my ears. My mind raced. This was it. She knew something. She was the key. I could feel it. I exhaled sharply to steady myself, letting the sting linger on for fuel.

I needed answers, and finally-maybe-I was going to get them. Everything else around me faded:

the deserted town, the bar, the empty streets, the dust. It was just me and her, and the possibility that I was moments away from finding Lena. Then, in that instant, I knew I would not give up. I couldn't. Not until I had her tucked in my arms.

Not until I saw the sparkle on Noah's face once again. Not until my family was whole again. That slap had awakened something feral in me. I wasn't angry.

I wasn't desperate. I was a storm, a force, and would not let her-Lena-remain lost one second longer. I gripped her hand tighter, hunching closer, my voice raw.

"Tell me. Where is she?" I asked my patience running thin and my face still simmering were she had hit me.

She remained silent, a pointed, knife-like stare;
I was about to open my mouth to speak again when she
her grip on her purse tightened and she slapped me across the face with it.