Learning Between The Walls

     After I had pried enough boards off of the wall to get inside, I began to pull things out of the walls. There were two filing boxes filled with paperwork, and most importantly, a map of the united states, covered in marks and post-it notes. I drug them out through the hole I had torn out, and we started to sift through the papers, as morning light rose into noon, and barely fell though the windows.
     The map was the simplest thing to understand. The locations on it were places that Gregory had hidden clues for Allen. Most of them, it turns out, he had already recovered. There were a couple in the midwest that were unaccounted for, but we weren't sure we needed them. The boxes, meanwhile were loaded with new information. We pored over it, lists of names, mostly, a lot of them, Allen pointed out, were probably the same names of people who had been on the list he found on the servers in the desert. We sifted through the names for most of the day, and didn't feel like we had gotten anything new.
     I decided to climb back into the wall, and give it a second look, just in case. The first thing I found in the wall was the latch that would have opened the wall up. There was a cable from a bike's brakes running along the wall, connected on one end to a latch, and disappearing into the wall. I flipped the latch, and realized that the wall over the bathtub was the door I should have been looking for. The other end of the brake cable was hooked to the toilet paper roll. When you pulled on the handle, the door would unlatch. Oops.
     But, looking from the outside of the tub, I saw what I really wanted to find. Right across from the hole, on the opposite wall, was a little shelf between two studs, and on top of that, was a newspaper. I brought it out, and I started looking through all of the articles. The newspaper was printed funny, and the word draft was all over it, which I guess meant that this wasn't a published issue. I looked though it, until I found a smallish article near the middle "Children Poisoned By Popular Toys". I read the article and took it to Allen. The children had been poisoned by an additive to the plastic used to extend the plastic, making higher volumes of plastic at lower cost. In theory, the additive was a real game-changer, because it would cost a lot less to produce plastic, and would also mean that recycling plastic would be able to produce more plastic. Unfortunately, the plastic made with the extender, when left in sunlight for extended periods of time became incredibly toxic, and a lot of children had died from it. It was on my second reading that I noticed the name of the author. It stuck in my head, because it sounded familiar, and then I realized why: the author was on the lists I had been reading earlier. I looked back through the paperwork, and found him, listed as deceased.

Exploring the old house of an old man.

     Gregory's house was a very old house. It must have been put in in the fifties, at least, and hadn't been taken care of very well. The wooden floors creaked, and had cracks between the planks. The paint in his kitchen was peeling, two different layers, yellow, then an old sage green, finally revealing the old fashioned plaster underneath. It was amazing to me to think that anyone had been living here at all. But the signs were there that Gregory had been living here not more than a few years ago. The furniture was still arranged, and though it was covered in a thick cake of dust, the couches in his living room were fairly new, with only the faintest imprint of a sitter in them. The fireplace was made of old red bricks, with cracks in the mortar, and lichen growing on the mantle. The back door had been broken in long before we arrived, and the screen had been torn in, down at raccoon height. There were leaves scattered around the floor, and it felt like we had broken into a ghost's home. All through the house were small reminders of the man who had lived there. His copper pots, tarnished now, but hung by order of size, the photographs he had taken himself, of beautiful lakes, and his beautiful wife. Even she was left behind, resting in an urn on the mantle. That place broke my heart. It was a beautiful old house, where two people had really loved one another, and something had torn that apart. We just weren't sure yet what had done it.
     Allen searched the house carefully, wandering through each room, shining his flashlight into cupboards, sifting through closets, lifting up furniture. He didn't seem to find what he was looking for, but he was determined to find it. He and Otis sniffed through the whole house while I went to get something to eat. When I returned to the house with food from a shop nearby, he and Otis were sitting in an upstairs bedroom. Resting against the wall, caught in a green blur of sunlight filtering through the leaves of a tree branch that had pushed itself through the window, he looked defeated. I offered him food, and he ate it, begrudgingly. I guess he thought that Gregory would have another clue for him, another breadcrumb to lead him to answers. The fact that the house was empty sent him back under his raincloud, and he was sulking again. We spent the night in that dusty house, and sat in that room all night.
     The next morning, I woke up first, and grabbed breakfast. When I got back, Allen was still asleep, and Otis was curled up against him. I waved a breakfast burrito around their head,s but neither of them even wiggled, so I ate my own, and killed some time. I decided that I would try to find something that Allen might have missed. I definitely didn't expect what I found. I walked to the bathroom, to snoop around, and then I walked around the corner to the kitchen, and realized that something felt a bit off. I walked back and forth, and realized that the walls didn't match up. Somehow, the rooms were smaller than they should have been, and then I realized that they were spaced apart to far, and that in the wall between them, there must have been some sort of space. I started in the kitchen, running my hands all over the walls, looking for something that might get me between the walls. I came up empty handed, and headed to the bathroom next. I searched every inch of the wood-paneled walls, and didn't feel any latches, so I started searching other things around the room. There didn't sem to be any levers, or switches, or anything in the room that would open it. then, I got a bit desperate, and flung myself into the wall. I bashed it with my shoulder twice, and as I braced for my third charge, Allen came running down the stairs. Then, with a wild strength I borrowed from someone else, I charged the wall again, and cracked one of the slats.
     Allen came over to the wall, looking through the slat I had cracked open, and his eyes lit up. Allen ran up to his pack and brought back his crowbar, pointing out that I could have just grabbed it myself, and began to pry boards off. I took it from him, and told him to go eat his burrito. This was my discovery, and he wasn't getting the glory for it. He laughed at me, kissed my cheek, and ran back upstairs to share his breakfast with otis.

Leaving My Little Life

     After two more days of preparation, Allen, Otis and I left home. It was really sad, but I knew it was what I wanted to do. We packed up my little car, closed up my little house, and left my little life. I let Allen drive. He wanted to feel like he had some control over the situation, which was fine. Since I wasn't giving him a choice about company, I was giving him as many other choices as I could. I asked him where we were going, and he said he had been thinking about it for awhile. He told me about all of the clues he had gone through previously, and listed them off to me to see if I could think of anything. The heart, the key, the knife with the message "Dead End Drive, Whitney Texas" on it, The flash drive with the Omega symbol, the list from the servers, the voice recorder, and the formula. We mulled it over for awhile while Allen drove aimlessly east.
     I bunched my knees up against the dashboard, and my jeans rubbed my calves unpleasantly. I'm really more of a skirt and shorts kind of girl, but I needed Allen to see me as an adventure partner, so I was in pants. I suggested that we try another family on the list, and he pointed out that he didin't have the list anymore. He didn't want to back to the bank and ask. He was ashamed of having disappeared, and didn't want to re-join the others until he had something solid to show he was worth his mettle.
     Allen turned off the freeway suddenly, and headed the other way. I asked him where we were going, and he assured me he had a plan. Two days later we were in Riverside, California. Allen had taken me to his old home, and showed it to me. It was really a nice house, but we didn't stay long. We stayed there for one night, and in the morning, Allen went to get coffee. He took my laptop with him, and was gone for about an hour. I almost thought he wasn't going to return, but when he did, he was very excited.
     We piled back into the car and drove for about a half an hour to an old house tucked out of the way. Nobody seemed to live there, and I was more than a little nervous about sneaking into a stranger's home. Allen grabbed Otis' leash, checked that his new pistol was loaded, and asked me if I was coming. We snuck through a hole in the old chain-link fence, and headed through a very tree-filled, overgrown yard. Otis' tail barely showed over the high weeds, and I was suddenly glad to be wearing jeans. We snuck around the back door, and entered the home of Gregory Faulkner.

The Argument We Had Over Two Backpacks

     Allen panicked when he saw my bag. He ran to me in the living room shouting "no," over and over again. He started telling me how dangerous it would be, and how he couldn't protect me.
I told him I would be protecting him, too. I told him that we would take care of one another.
He backed away from me, begging me not to follow him, he was angry and scared. I had really set him off. He began shouting about everything that had happened to him, all of the injuries, and the people who had been killed.

I shouted back, which caught me off guard, that if i didn't know what I was getting into, I wouldn't be following him, and that it was because I knew how dangerous it would be that I couldn't let him go by himself!

He changed tactics on me then, trying to appeal to my life. He asked who would take care of Otis, and my home?

I replied quickly, because I had seen this coming. My house was on a vacation rental site, and my neighbor would take care of it, and The bakery had already agreed to hire me back if I came back.

He seemed stumped, he wasn't sure what he could say to get me to change my mind. So, instead, he forbade me to come with him. He said he would sneak away, and I'd never be able to follow him.

I got boastful, and laughed. Then I said something a bit hurtful, I think. I told him that was unlikely, because I had been able to follow him so far. I told him that I knew about his workouts under the bridge. I told him that I had seen him fall, and seen him curse, and seen him get back up. I told him that was why I had suggested walks, to get his legs in shape.

He was dazed. He didn't know I had followed him, he was embarrassed that I had seen him out there. Then he got quiet, and thoughtful, and looked down for a bit. We stood in an uncomfortable silence for a moment, and then he asked me if I meant it. If I was really going to follow him.

I didn't expect it, but I kissed him then, and he knew I would follow him anywhere.

How The man, The Dog and I Began To Prepare

     After the morning I saw Allen under the bridge, I felt like our relationship had changed. I mean, not from his perspective. He obviously didn't know I had followed him, but I think I had started to see him differently. Before that night, he had been broken, and tragic in a way. But afterwards, I could only see his determination, he was powerful and vital. It was a surprising change, really. I knew what it meant, though; Allen was not going to stay. As scared as he was, as full of regret, he would never let those people down.

     We started running at nights after that. I suggested that walking might be good for him, and I thought we could take Otis. He liked the idea, but soon walking became jogging became running. It was good for all of us, Otis was losing weight, I was feeling fitter, and Allen was more confident. it wasn't long before I felt him getting ready to leave. He wandered off during the days, and started coming back with money and gear. He was stowing it in my little garage, keeping it where he thought I wouldn't see. I think he was afraid to hurt my feelings. But I already knew I couldn't let him go by himself. I just couldn't do that to him. So, I started ordering things from the internet. I din't know what I would need, really, but I started looking through the things he was hiding, and started ordering from Amazon. I got some things for Otis, too. I wasn't going to leave my dog behind, he was too good for that. We spent a few weeks running, and the last two weeks secretly supplying ourselves. He didn't think I knew, but I did. Finally, I decided to let him know.

     It was about three weeks into march, and Allen had been living with me for almost eight weeks. Eight weeks of getting to know the walking contradiction that was Allen Bishop. It was eight weeks before Allen knew how I felt. The day he walked into the garage and found not one, but two backpacks ready to go.

The Night I Found The Man Under That Bridge Again.

     I looked all over the house for Allen that morning, but I didn't find him. I had to go to work, so I showered quickly and left. The sun was barely up when I left, and the grass was soaked. It was freezing cold, and Allen was somewhere out there. I was just going to have to find him later. Obviously he didn't want to be bothered.
     When I came home that night, Allen had reappeared, and was cooking dinner. He was standing in the kitchen, wearing one of my aprons and looking ridiculous. He smiled at me awkwardly, and went back to his cooking. I didn't ask him where he had been, because I didn't want to upset him again. But his shoes were muddy up the sides, so I assumed he had been at the creek. He didn't seem interested in talking abut it, and defected all of my questions. He was suddenly very interested in the bakery, as if I wouldn't notice that he was deflecting.
     It went on like that for a week. I'd wake up in the morning, and he'd be gone, and I'd come home and he'd be back, making dinner. It was a nice routine, honestly. After a week, however, I decided to see where he was really going. So, I woke up earlier than usual, and followed him to the creek. He stood in the shallow water without his shoes on, and I watched him. He was right under the bridge where I had found him initially, almost a month earlier. He stood quietly for a long time, reflecting on the place where i had found his broken body. Then, as if it was some ritual, he spat on the spot, and climbed the bridge. He hung from a pipe under the bridge, and began to do pull-ups. He was about ten feet in the air, holding himself above maybe two feet of moonlit water, with his frail legs dangling beneath him. He must have done a hundred pushups before he stopped, and to my surprise, dropped himself from the pipe, straight down. He landed with a thud, and his legs crumpled under him. He collapsed into the water, and I watched as he pulled himself back up, angry at himself for not being able to manage the fall. He started running in place in the water, splashing all around himself in a frenzy, and yelling at himself to be stronger. I watched him work out for about a half an hour, until the sun began to creep up, and I realized I had to go to work. I ran home, showered and dashed off for work.
     I spent the whole day at work thinking about him. He had been so determined, and so strong, but so frail at the same time. I couldn't understand what drove him, but I admired it. He was magnificent, really. I wish now that I had told him that more often.

How I made The Smile Disappear

     After loading Allen up with beer, I was conflicted. He was finally acting happy, and I really didn't want to ruin that. However, I had started the evening with a plan, so I decided to follow through. People used to tell me that I never followed through on things, so I had become set on finishing what I had started. I picked Allen up, set him against one arm of the couch, and he looked at me sadly. I think he knew what I was going to ask.

"What's next, Allen?"

     His grimace returned, and he was quiet again for a long time. It wasn't the comfortable silence we had been sharing for the past two weeks, it felt more like the room was filling with hot water, heat and pressure making every second more uncomfortable. Then Allen spoke, and pulled the drain, and the water rushed out.

"I can't go back. There's no point. I lost everything I had. I can't even face them now. I left Mike, I shot at him, for god's sake. He probably thinks I've turned against him. I just can't do it anymore"

     He had started to cry, and I didn't know what to do. I'm normally pretty good at handling emotional people, my friends always say that I am, anyway. But Allen, this, all of it was so different than any of that stuff. I couldn't get him to call Silas. He was ashamed. He had looked up to silas, and when he allowed himself to get captured like that, and abandoned Mike, he couldn't bear it. He couldn't tell Silas that he had escaped that train station. He cried on me for hours. The facade of the strong man melted away, and I realized what that package had done to him. He had been a kind, normal man, and finding that heart had broken all of that. He was covered in scars, and hid inside himself. I didn't push anymore. I left him alone, and when I woke in the morning, his wheelchair was still sitting next to the couch. He was nowhere to be found.