Mara watched as Anna cradled the creature in her arms and flew up and over the line of trees. The errant floodlight that pointed up like a beacon lit Anna’s path as she flew out of view. Mara waited until her young friend disappeared, then turned to face Tyler again.
“It’s okay, Tyler. It’s over now,” she said calmly, her hands still held out in front of her.
“How do you know me? I don’t know . . .” Tyler’s voice faded away.
Mara cocked her head. She had planned to just clean his memory and make short work of this, to leave him there alone with a dented truck and a hole in his life. But in the sharp glow of the floodlights, he looked so different. Younger than she expected. More afraid. The history she had gathered on him earlier—the citations and warnings, the altercations and struggles with school and himself and everyone around him—now started to make some sense. It wasn’t time to go. Not yet.
“I know everything about you, Tyler,” Mara said.
And she did. Even things he didn’t know about himself or was afraid to say out loud.
“Are you going to hurt me?” Tyler’s eyes watered.
“No. You do a good enough job of that on your own,” she said.
“Then . . . what?” Tyler asked.
“I’m going to give you a chance at a fresh start. Would you like that, Tyler?” Mara said.
The light in her palm now began to gradually change color from white to green, and with it came the hushed sound of wind through thick pine. Calming.
Tyler’s face started to relax. A slight smile crossed his lips.
“Yeah. I’d like that,” he answered.
“In a couple of minutes, you’re going to take your friend to the closest hospital. He’ll be fine, but he’s going to need some attention.”
“Did I do that?” Tyler asked, a hint of sadness in his voice.
“It was an accident, but yes. You seem to attract accidents, don’t you, Tyler? And there are more ahead for you too if you don’t change course—far worse than this one. Accidents you won’t be able to walk away from,” Mara said.
“Then what do I do?” he asked, light reflecting off the rims of his eyes.
Mara paused. She had seen Tyler’s past and future paths. His last couple of years had been a hazy state of inertia and boredom—stagnant, like the heat that hung heavy on a late August afternoon just before a summer squall ripped branches from the trees. She had seen the pictures in the newsfeeds and police reports. There would be the death of another, then the lost decade, and finally his own early death.
She would have work to do. Not tonight but in the coming months, and it still may not be enough. This new future she was part of held no certainty.
“This town isn’t good for you,” she said.
“I hate it here,” he said absently.
“No. You hate you here,” she said. “You need room to breathe, and this town holds too much weight for you. You need space and time to discover who you really are. You’ll receive a message in the coming months. An opportunity to leave. You’re going to take it, because you know it’s your last, best chance.”
“How will I know?”
“You just will. Trust me.”
Tyler smiled. “Okay.”
“And one last thing before I leave you.”
Tyler’s eyes closed, the smile still on his face. He could feel the synapses in his brain smooth over like a fresh dusting of snow. Before he disappeared altogether in this vast, white landscape, he felt someone speaking to him from a distance.
“Be nicer to your younger brother.”