Briar Valley: The Complete Duet

2. Zach

CHAPTER 2

ZACH

IT’S ALL FADING TO BLACK – XXXTENTACION & BLINK-182

Parking Ryder’s truck outside the bar, I kill the engine and study the hordes of people packed inside through the steamed-up glass. Saturday night is in full swing with all the locals gathering inside and spilling out onto the snow-covered pavement.

The thump of shitty karaoke makes me wince from here. Some inebriated moron is killing cats in there with that awful screech. Checking my phone, I scan Trevor’s text again.

Trevor: You need to take Micah home before I kick his ass out onto the street. He’s already punched someone and broken a table.

“Great,” I mutter to myself.

Turning up my coat collar, I hop out then slam the door a little harder than necessary. My twin is being a self-destructive dickhead at the moment, and I’m so over it.

Wrestling my way through the sweaty, leering crowd inside, I manage to get to the bar. Trevor’s eyes connect with mine from behind the counter, an annoyed scowl plastered on his face.

“Took you long enough to get here.”

“I’m here now.” I cross my arms. “Where is he?”

“Bathroom, last I checked. This is the third time this week.” He fills up a pint then passes it to an awaiting customer. “I’m not his babysitter, Zach. It needs to stop.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“He’s in here all the damn time, drinking himself into an early grave and pissing everyone off. Next time, I’ll toss him out.”

“Calm down. I got the message.”

Grabbing Lola’s credit card from my pocket, I slide it across the bar. Trevor eagerly takes it then rings up the outstanding tab.

“Give yourself a generous tip as well. I’ll go scrape Micah’s drunk ass off the bathroom floor.”

Trevor slides the card back. “Good luck, kid.”

Picking my way to the back of the crowded room, I slip into the men’s bathroom. Immediately, the bitter stench of vomit, spilled beer and cigarettes assails me.

Jesus fuck.

This is really not how I planned on spending my Saturday night. Truthfully, I’d like to be at the bottom of a bottle too, but I have to save my stupid twin from himself instead.

“Micah!” I shout angrily. “Where the fuck are you?”

Groaning comes from the farthest stall. I duck down to peer underneath the door after finding a familiar pair of paint-splattered Chucks peeking out.

He’s passed out on the filthy floor, curled up in a tight, semi-conscious ball next to the toilet bowl. Charming. It’s one of the worst states I’ve found him in of late.

“For fuck’s sake.” I gingerly nudge his limp foot. “Micah. Wake up. It’s time to go home.”

“Piss off,” he whispers.

“No can do.”

Managing to wrestle his eyes open for a second, he takes one drunken look at me and groans. His eyes screw shut again.

“Just be glad it’s me picking you up and not Killian,” I reason. “He would take you to a quiet corner and shoot you between the eyes with the mood he’s in.”

Taking a coin from my wallet, I use it to pick the lock on the stall door. Micah hasn’t moved an inch. I doubt he’s capable of even walking right now, judging by his liquor-fuelled scent.

Ducking inside, I slide my hands underneath his gangly arms then drag him up to rest against the wall. He’s lost a lot of weight recently, given his entirely liquid diet.

He promptly slumps against me, unable to hold himself up. His head drops on my shoulder, and I can feel the pain that’s still radiating through him. He hasn’t drowned it out yet.

“How much have you had to drink?” I demand.

“Leave… alone… Z-Zach.”

“That’s not going to happen. You can sleep it off on the way back, but you’ve got to answer to Lola this time. She’s mad at you for pulling this shit again.”

“I’m allowed… drink if… want to,” he slurs.

“You’ll be off to rehab in no time if you keep this shit up. Hold onto me, little brother. I’ve got you.”

“Three m-minutes younger.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

With his arm wrapped around my neck, I drag him out of the bathroom, his head limply lolling forward. Trevor waits outside to help lift Micah so we’re sharing his weight between us.

He’s a decent guy. Most people in his position would just call the police and have Micah thrown in the drunk tank for being such a disruptive mess, night after night. He calls me instead.

“Thanks, Trev. I appreciate your discretion.”

“Get out of my bar, the pair of you. Go on, beat it.”

With a final nod of thanks, I wrestle Micah all the way outside and back to Ryder’s borrowed truck. It’s like trying to fit an octopus into the front seat as he starts to drunkenly fight me.

“Get the fuck off me,” he growls.

“Stop it, for God’s sake!”

I try to pin his wrists, but when he clocks me in the face with a strong punch, I lose patience. Spitting blood, I slam him against the side of the truck, knocking the air from his lungs.

“Micah! You’re a mess. Don’t start with me.”

“I said let go!”

“No!” I shout back. “You’re my brother and my responsibility.”

When he tries to punch me again, I duck the blow and slam him even harder against the truck for a second time.

“Get your stupid ass inside before I knock you out. I’m not afraid to do it either. Don’t test me, Mi.”

Just when I think he’s going to relent and climb in, Micah’s face hardens. He lunges forward, slamming his forehead against mine hard enough to send me stumbling backwards.

Using the distraction to attempt to run back to Trevor’s bar, he stumbles in the direction we just came from. I spit more blood on the ground and grab his dirty denim jacket before he can get far.

“Stop it!”

Using momentum, I throw him to the pavement, and he lands with a hiss of pain, staring up at me with hazy green eyes.

“Did you just headbutt me?” I yell, gaining the attention of several nearby people. “Jesus Christ. I don’t even recognise you anymore. Who the hell are you?”

Rather than answer, he lays there pathetically, rubbing his bruised tailbone. One of the customers from outside the bar walks over to us with a sympathetic expression.

“You need a hand with this one?”

“Thanks, man.”

“No problem. Looks like he’s a handful.”

“To say the least,” I scoff.

Between us, we get Micah strapped into the truck’s passenger seat, then I slam the door in his stupid face. The guy returns to his friends, leaving me to catch my breath.

This is a fucking shit-show.

Micah has been on a downward spiral for months. He managed to hide it at first, but as Christmas approaches, the last few weeks in particular have been pretty messy.

There’s only one person who can save him from himself, but unluckily for us, she’s disappeared off the face of planet Earth. When Willow left, she took all of our hope with her.

Nothing was left behind but three empty husks of the men we used to be, with none of us functioning or able to get through the day. By saving herself and her child, she ruined us all.

I wish I blamed her.

I wish I hated her.

I can’t do either.

Back behind the wheel, I find Micah’s passed out again, leaving me in blissful peace. The drive back to Briar Valley passes in silence with only the quiet chatter of the radio in the background.

Getting back up the mountain road in the icy, snowy conditions is a nightmare, even with the treads that Ryder fitted on the wheels last week when the first snowfall hit.

After several near misses and sliding back down an icy patch of rock, I have to call it quits. We’re going to get into a nasty accident if I keep pressing on in the steadily falling snow.

“Fucking perfect.”

Micah’s silence answers me.

Peeling off my coat, I drape it over him then tuck it around his body to keep him warm. I can see my breath in the truck with the engine off, but at least he won’t get hypothermia while asleep.

It’s a long, miserable night in the freezing cold. Snow settles on the windscreen, and I shiver in the driver’s seat, my hands frozen into two lumps of ice. Micah stirs as dawn breaks.

“Oh God,” he grunts.

“I hope your head is killing you.”

Shifting in his seat, he looks over at me. “Shit. You’re shaking.”

“I’m cold. We got stranded in the snow.”

“Well… double shit.”

When he notices my coat piled on top of him to keep him warm, Micah’s eyes duck in shame. I wordlessly accept it back and slip it on to warm myself up again.

“What happened?”

“You were drunk,” I huff out. “And acting like a cunt again. Thanks for the punch too.”

His gaze sweeps over my face where I know at least one dark bruise has formed. My face aches from the punches and headbutt. He’s lucky I didn’t leave him in the snow to die.

“Fuck, Zach. I’m so sorry.”

“Are you? If you were really sorry, we wouldn’t be having this conversation at all. I told you to stop drinking after the accident.”

“I can’t?—”

“If you’re about to give me some bullshit excuse, spare me,” I interrupt. “You made promises then broke them all over again. Now you can apologise to Grams instead.”

Lips sealed, he can’t even nod. His entire posture is carved with palpable self-hatred. As much as I want to punish him for being a selfish jerk, it hurts to see him in so much pain.

“Where is she?” Micah whispers.

“I don’t know, Mi. Not here.”

“It’s been months. She should’ve come home by now.”

I swallow the lump gathering in my throat. “Willow is never going to come home. Haven’t you realised that by now?”

“Don’t fucking say that, man.”

“It’s the truth, whether you want to hear it or not.”

The winter sun begins to crest on the horizon, highlighted by impending storm clouds as the next dumping of snow prepares to arrive. We have to move fast to avoid it.

“Buckle up,” I order shortly.

Wrestling with his belt, Micah doesn’t bother arguing with me again. He’s torturing himself by holding out for Willow to return. Giving up that pointless hope will make this easier for all of us.

Sweeping the snow from the window screen, we gingerly take off and continue up the mountain. The snow has settled into a slippery ice rink, so I drive at a snail’s pace to remain in control.

It’s another hour before we make it into town safely and in one piece. Frigid sunlight sparkles on the compacted snow, and the daylight reveals an awaiting welcoming committee.

Killian sits on Lola’s porch, his head in his hands. The sight of him causes my heart to stutter in fear. I quickly park up the truck, narrowly dodging a dangerous bank of snow.

“Kill!” I shout after climbing out.

His head doesn’t lift.

Leaving Micah to struggle out of the truck alone, I sink through huge snow drifts and manage to clamber up Lola’s porch steps. Still, Killian doesn’t respond to my shouts of his name.

“Kill? What happened?”

When he does look up, the sheer intensity of grief burning in his eyes steals my breath. He’s been crying. Unshakeable, terrifying Killian, unaffected by the whole world, has sobbed his eyes out.

“What is it?” I repeat.

All he can do is shake his head.

With the fear of God settling in my heart, I abandon him and run inside the cabin. It’s deathly quiet. The usually crackling fireplace is empty.

No freshly baked cookies or brewed coffee scents linger in the air. Something’s wrong. Lola is always up at the crack of dawn, baking and setting about her town duties for the day.

And Killian hasn’t been awake before midday for months, let alone stepped outside to brace the real world. Just seeing him sitting there was a shock to the system.

Following the faint murmur of voices upstairs, I come across the next obstacle on the staircase. It’s Ryder. He’s staring at the phone clutched in his hands, the screen displaying an unknown number.

“Ry? What the fuck is going on?”

His gaze crashes into me. “Zach. You’re too late.”

“Too late for what?”

I watch his Adam’s apple bob. Ryder’s eyes are bloodshot and swollen too. He stands up then leads me down the hallway where he clasps my arm tight.

“It’s Lola. Something happened last night.”

My throat constricts. “Is she okay?”

Ryder shakes his head. “We think she had a heart attack. It all happened so fast.”

Trying to push past him to burst into Lola’s bedroom, he holds me back, keeping me pinned against his chest. His voice is an agonised rasp.

“She’s gone, Zach. I’m sorry.”

No.

This can’t be happening.

Not Grams.

“This is some kind of sick joke.” I shove him backwards. “Where is she? What do you mean she’s gone?”

“Zach,” he placates.

“No!”

Pushing past him, I reach her bedroom then race inside. The awaiting scene tramples on the remains of my heart. Albie is crouched next to the bed, holding Lola’s limp hand.

On the left, Doc is talking in low whispers with Rachel and Miranda. Everyone looks wrung-out and pale. Exhausted. Tear-streaked. I look between them before facing Lola’s body.

“Grams?” I croak.

Albie looks over to me. “Zach. She’s… gone.”

“No. This isn’t real.”

Approaching the bed, I fall to my knees as they fail to hold up my weight any longer. The moment I touch Lola’s papery, pale skin, I feel just how cold she is. Waxy. She’s already left us.

Reality sets in then. Cruel and painful. I’m staring at her dead body, bereft of the warmth that encapsulates every inch of Briar Valley. That light has vanished from sight.

“No,” I croak. “Grams… No.”

It doesn’t bring her back. No amount of sobbing or screaming at an uncaring God will make her eyes lift. I snatch her hand and let my head crash into the bed, hiding my tears from sight.

Dead.

Dead.

Fucking dead!

I remember the moment when I realised my father had passed on. The emergency services removed him from the bathroom beneath a white sheet, leaving a shell-shocked, younger Micah behind.

I’m staring at the same emptiness. Hollowed out and left to rot. With a scream tearing at my aching throat, I shout endlessly, begging Lola’s eyes to reopen. Just once. Even a flutter.

There’s nothing. Not a single twitch. A breath. A whisper of life. She’s dead and gone. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

I saw her a matter of hours ago. She gave me her credit card last night and told me to bail Micah out again. I vowed to bring him over the second we got back so she could give him a talking to.

“Zach,” Albie says in a strangled voice. “I’m sorry, son.”

“When?” I squeeze out.

“Only a couple of hours ago.”

“I wasn’t here.”

“You couldn’t have known.” Ryder hovers behind me. “Everything happened so fast. You know she’s had high blood pressure for years.”

“I doubt recent stress helped matters,” Doc comments. “Lola’s health had been suffering for a while now, but she didn’t want to worry anyone.”

Hearing that she’s been battling with her health alone triples my pain. Lola’s there for everyone, yet she couldn’t even tell us she wasn’t well. That hurts more than anything.

“Did… Did anyone try to revive her?”

The look in Albie’s eyes is haunted. “I tried. It was too late. She was gone before I even had a chance to fight back.”

The bubble of vomit in my throat is searing hot and almost spews out. I feel sick to my stomach. While I scooped Micah off the bar’s floor and worried about him… Grams was dying.

“That son of a bitch,” I snarl.

Albie startles. “Huh?”

“I was out there saving Micah’s stupid fucking ass while Lola took her last breath. She needed me. I wasn’t here.”

“Zach,” he attempts. “Don’t think like that.”

“I wasn’t here!”

Before he can stop me, I abandon Lola’s bedside vigil and thump back downstairs. Snow is swirling in the early morning air as I launch myself outside to find my worthless twin.

He’s slumped against the tailgate of the truck, peering into the thick, dense snow clouds high above us. Killian still hasn’t moved, staring through his silent, never-ending tears.

“You!” I shout.

Micah stirs, his still-hazy eyes sliding over to me. “What?”

“This is your fucking fault!”

Marching up to him, I grab his denim jacket and let my fist sail straight into his face. Micah doubles over, clutching his now red-stained nose.

“What the hell, Zach?”

“I was out dealing with your shit last night and Lola was alone. She died alone because of you.”

The colour drains from his face.

“D-Died?”

I jab a thumb over my shoulder. “Go and see for yourself. Lola’s dead. She had a heart attack last night.”

Staying to watch the realisation dawn on his face isn’t an option. I can’t keep it together for a second longer. Climbing back into the truck, I slam the door to keep everyone else out.

This is going to break us all.

We need Willow.

We need our family back.