A New Path

Ken sat in his office, hunched over a page of dense jargon as usual. It was a mess of text and annotations featuring Irina’s notes, his notes, and a spaghetti of arrows pointing from one concept to the next, all intertwining across the page.

But it was starting to come together in his mind—this part, at least.

He was transcribing the information, as best as he could distill it down, into his own notes alongside. He’d only finished two pages of the packet since the night prior, but it had taken almost ten in his notebook.

Now, it was the evening, almost time for him to throw some dinner together for the girls.

It occurred to him that he hadn’t heard May return since storming out that morning. Since storming out three mornings before, she’d stayed out later and later each evening. He didn’t want to pry—he knew how that would go over. But he just wanted her to be safe. Her will was too strong, though: no matter how much he discouraged it and explained, she still left every morning.

I should text her, he thought, snatching his phone from the desk. His back cried out in protest, having been hunched over all day, but he managed to get it. He leaned back in his chair for some relief as he opened the messaging app.

Me > Hi, May.
Me > I was wondering where you are and what time you’ll be home.
Me > Let me know.
Me > Love you.

With that sorted in his mind, he tossed his phone back to the desk and leaned back down to get back to work—as much as his lower back would have urged him otherwise.

His phone vibrated on his desk. Probably just a text, he thought, continuing. But as the phone continued to buzz, he realized that it was an incoming call. And the tone was not for one of his family members.

He stood, walking over to the desk and picking up the phone. But as his hand brushed against it, the buzzing stopped.

It showed a missed call from a number he didn’t recognize.

“They’ll leave a voicemail if it’s important.”

It started to buzz again.

The number on the screen was the same. He stared at it, turning it over in his mind. It was fairly late—around seven o’clock. No one without a good reason would bother calling now. Or it was a scam.

Either way, he didn’t have the headspace to deal with it.

But, he supposed, it could be May. The first call had come just after texting her, after all.

That call, too, timed out.

The room was silent for a moment, but—

Another call.

The odds it was important outweighed the odds it wasn’t, at least in his mind. So, reluctantly, he raised the phone to his ear, tapping to accept.

He remained silent at first. For what felt like thirty seconds or so. There was nothing from the other line—that he could hear, anyway.

I guess I’ll start, Ken thought, opening his mouth to speak.

“Hello?” came a man’s voice from the phone.

Ken jumped. “Uh, hi.”

“May I please speak to Dr. Ken Soma?” His tone was regal and official. It was a bit disturbing—unnatural, frankly.

“...Speaking.”

“Ah, wonderful. Good evening, Dr. Soma.”

“Please, just Ken is fine.” Ken ran a hand through his hair, racking his brain to search for the voice—to see if he knew the man speaking.

“Very well, then. Good evening, Ken.”

Ken scratched his head. The identity of the speaker wasn’t an important question. He needed the conversation to cut to the proverbial chase as quickly as possible, so he could get back to work.

“What is this about?” he asked.

“Of course. My name is Marcel, and I work with Dr. Alexandrova.”

Ken’s eyes shot open and he leaned forward, as though his bluntness had physically struck him in the head. Was this her roundabout way of finally reaching out? Questions of all kinds exploded into Ken’s mind, and they began pouring from his mouth like a stream after winter. “What’s she been doing? Where is she? I haven’t heard from her! Why—”

“Please,” he interrupted, “allow me to explain.”

Ken pulled his mouth closed, stemming the cascade of questions. He paced about his office to better focus, and to try to avoid the questions he had falling loose from his mouth again. “Alright, go ahead.”

“I am calling you simply to orchestrate a meeting. For this evening.”

Ken stopped abruptly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean what I say. Dr. Alexandrova has asked that I schedule a meeting with you.”

“But…” Ken’s voice trailed off. Marcel remained silent, presumably waiting for a response.

On the one hand, it would subtract from his research time. But on the other, speaking with her might open up doors with his research that had been closed up to now. That is, if this Marcel actually works with Irina. And this isn’t some kind of… plot.

He felt foolish even considering going, given the abject danger involved with meeting a stranger who merely claims to share an acquaintance. But… would he be more foolish to turn down the opportunity?

The longer he considered it, the more clear his thoughts became.

I just want the family to be safe. Protected.

“Why hasn’t Irina called me?” Ken finally asked.

Marcel was silent for a moment. “I cannot answer.”

He took a deep breath. “Then what did she want to meet about?”

“The end of the world, of course.”

Of course, Ken thought. He shuddered at the man’s indifference. “I… don’t know if I can make it yet. Can I call you back?”

“No need, Doctor. Please, if you decide to attend, be at the intersection of streets Washington and Stone at precisely ten o’clock.”

Ken’s phone beeped in his ear, the call ended by Marcel without waiting for a response.

He heaved a sigh, slouching the rigid posture he took for the phone call. His heart pounded as he considered it. Adrenaline rushed through him as he played out the different scenarios in his mind—the different endings. He wasn’t sure what would happen, exactly, but he knew this: he could protect the girls best by being near them.

And with that, he had his answer.

I guess… I’ll go make some dinner, he finally thought. “I gotta get back to work.”

He walked out of his office, heading toward the kitchen—

“Who’re you meeting?”

May.

Ken froze in place. He hadn’t heard her come in. It must have been during the phone call, or when he was deeply focused just before.

“Is it Mom?” she asked. She was leaning against the wall of his office, arms crossed, her head tilted down.

“No,” he responded simply. He wasn’t in the mood to argue with her, so he kept his answer short. But he could feel the ire radiating from her. It seemed inevitable.

“Then who?”

“Don’t worry about it, May,” he said, sighing out the words. He started toward the kitchen again, and she followed.

“Don’t worry about it? That’s it?”

“Yes, May, I don’t—”

“I heard the whole thing.”

Ken stopped in the middle of the kitchen and turned to May. “May, I don’t want to do this right now.”

The show playing in the living room paused. Alice was listening now, too.

“So you’re going to brush this off, too?” May’s arms were extended, completely incredulous. Her tone was more frustrated but resigned the more she spoke, as though she too thought the conversation’s outcome certain. “I mean, you finally have a chance at a breakthrough. You’ve receded into your goddamn office like… like an ammonite into its shell, and now you won’t even try to make progress?”

“No, I—”

She cut him off. “You hole up in your office to look at Mom’s work, skip meals, don’t leave your office, and now when you get a chance to jump forward, you won’t even try?”

“That was a random man calling me, May. Not your mother.”

She closed her mouth, thinking for a moment. “But he said he knows her, right?”

“Anyone can say that.”

“But he called you.”

Ken hadn’t thought of it that way. It was a good point.

“You’re just going to wait for another box of clues from her? Hope she hid a folder under the bed?” She shook her head. “If you really want to protect us, doesn’t this seem like the best option? Seeing Mom?”

Ken put a hand over his mouth, stroking the fresh stubble on his chin.

“You’re gonna see Mom?” Alice asked, standing in the doorway now. Apprehension dominated her face, but Ken caught a flash of excitement in her eyes. They flicked over to May, and then back to her father. “Can we come?”

“Absolutely not,” he responded instantly, snapping to her. “You’ll stay here.”

“But you’re going, then?” asked May.

Shit, Ken thought, realizing what he’d implied. Why did they have to be such smart kids?

He shrugged. “I… guess so.” He looked back at May. “You make a good point. But you two absolutely cannot come.”

“But, Dad! We—”

“No, May!” Ken shouted, cutting her off. Her mouth hung open at his words. “You will stay here with your sister! And that’s the end of it!”

The room fell to silence. The girls just stared at him.

Ken pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry for yelling. But… if I’m going to go, I need to know you’re both safe.”

“But you can keep us safe if—”

“If you’re with me?” he finished for May. “No. You will stay here.”

His firmness turned May’s eyes away. They turned to meet Alice’s. She nodded slightly—almost imperceptibly. “…Fine,” she finally said, huffing and sitting at the table.

“Now, I’m gonna heat up some food for you guys, and then get ready to go,” Ken said.

The girls were silent in response. He hoped they understood the gravity of this, even if they weren’t expressing it.

May was right, though. It just took her calling him out for him to confront his uncertainty.

Ken shook his head and smiled as he pulled some leftovers from the fridge. Her demeanor becomes more and more like her mother’s every day, he thought.

———

Ken stepped out into the bitter cold of night. It bit at his exposed hands and face, so he stuffed them in his pockets. His hand ran along the pistol’s body, but he prayed he was overly cautious in bringing it.

He descended his front steps, a breeze blowing over him as though urging him to retreat back inside. Though he wore a scarf and hat, he could feel the wind through them now and whenever else it blew, chilling him through.

“Couldn’t we have just talked on the phone…?” he muttered through his shivering, checking his phone. No notifications. He had the map set to the corner Marcel had indicated, and as he stowed the phone back in his pocket, he set off down the road.

The girls were asleep behind him. He hoped they did as he asked and stayed home. And for his sanity, he had to believe that they would.

He had to believe they would trust him—trust him to protect them.