“Yeah, I’d suggest that. Here in town, the Millers’ has pretty much everything you might need between trips to Mercer. If you talk to Mrs. Miller, she’ll order you anything you might want to have in town regularly. I mean they have a pretty good selection, but people have preferences.” She smiled in a way that told him she’d used that particular service herself.
“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”
“Yeah, just don’t go asking Mr. Miller. Ask the Mrs. instead. He’s a grouchy old man. She’s a peach.”
Makai snorted. “Opposites attract or something?”
“Pretty much, yeah,” she agreed and grinned.
“So what’s the closest town I should go for stocking up on stuff? Like, say, the closest Target?”
“That’d be in Minocqua. There’s plenty of things in there. It’s about an hour drive.”
“Okay. Thanks for this.” He folded the makeshift map and put it in his wallet. “Really appreciate it.”
“No worries. If you need anything, call the station or ask at the Millers’—they’re some of the oldest residents and would know stuff.”
“Will do.” Makai nodded at her. “Thanks again.”
“See you in two weeks!”
He walked to his truck and looked at the map when he was securely inside the vehicle. Suddenly he felt a bit out of breath and grasped the steering wheel with shaking hands. He rested his head down and closed his eyes. The mild nausea came next, and he swallowed against it, trying to will the panic attack away. He should’ve known this would happen. The relief of being out of the meeting hit him worse than the anxiety of going into the station ever would. He didn’t know if it was normal, having the aftermath, the being safe again, shake him so much worse. Then again, his body and mind rarely did easy things, or things that made sense to most people.
Once his heartbeat slowed down, he started the truck, drove back to the so-called main street—it wasn’t a main street as much as it was a two-lane road going through an area and people had put a dozen or so buildings alongside. There were no actual side streets, at least not in a grid formation like you’d normally see.
As he continued through the collection of random buildings, he saw a place called Tripod. Across the road from it stood the Millers’ grocery store and a post office. There seemed to be a garage and a clinic of some sort, which had both a human and a dog in the logo. Weird.
He glanced at the dashboard clock again. He had enough time to stop by the Millers’ for some groceries. He checked his mirrors and swung the truck into the parking lot at the last moment. He hoped nobody from the Sheriff’s Station had seen that. At least he hadn’t done it across the other lane.
When he got out of the truck, he looked across the road. Tripod seemed to be a restaurant slash bar, diner, and café combo. He supposed it made sense. Makai doubted that there would be a lot of need for each one separately, so as far as a tiny town business idea, it seemed solid to combine as much as you could.
All in all, he couldn’t really remember this town. Maybe the buildings had changed in the last almost thirty years. He just knew his grandpa had had a small house outside of Acker when he was little. Makai had been here before, and it felt right to be here again.
He went into the log building and found himself in a traditional mom-and-pop grocery store. It took him a moment to figure out how large the space actually was. Not massive, but still three times bigger than it looked outside. He guessed that whomever had built it had used all sorts of tricks to expand it toward the back of the lot.
A teenager stocked the shelves when Makai rolled by with his shopping cart. The kid looked up at him and blinked.
“Hi,” Makai said, deciding that he should probably make an effort to get to know the townspeople.
“Uh… hello,” the boy said, then gave him a hesitant smile.
“I’m new in town. Name’s Makai.” He smiled, feeling like he towered over the poor kid. He couldn’t have been more than five eight, and Makai was six foot six and the world never let him forget that.
“I’m Johnny.”
“Nice to meet you.” Makai nodded at the kid and went on his way to look for something easy to make for the next few days.
He would head to the cottage he’d bought as soon as he was out of the store and had a feeling that once he’d kicked the real estate guy out of his property, Makai wouldn’t want to see people anytime soon. That’s one thing jail taught you. Having people around constantly was a double-edged sword. For one, you were never completely alone, and you started to crave that, but unless you were put in solitary, you were left craving and hoping. Then, after a while in solitary, you’d want back to people, shitty as they often were.
He’d also learned more about how important routine became while locked up, and how not having one could freak you out after getting out of the prison system. Makai’s mom had told him to find a middle way somehow, and he would try that. As soon as he got to the point where he didn’t feel his skin crawling when exposed to too many people.
While he familiarized himself with the shop and gathered goods into his cart, the bell above the door chimed a couple of times. He was picking what cereal he wanted to buy, when the sound of running came to him, and a child, maybe four years old, came barreling around the corner.
Makai blinked and flattened himself against the shelves when the kid didn’t seem to be able to stop and flailed into the aisle.
Then the child—Makai couldn’t tell if they were a girl or a boy or maybe something in between like one of his cellmates—finally came to a halt, panted loudly, and then looked up with comically widened eyes.
“Oh wow.” Their voice sounded awed. “Are you a giant?”
