“That bullshit construction gig sucks, but getting paid under the table and not paying taxes has allowed me to stack enough bread to disappear. I can support us for a while, G.”
Gage finished chewing a piece of toast, then muttered, “It doesn’t matter, Roz. I already told you I don’t know where it is. I went in unconscious and came out blind. I only know we were in Virginia, and Virginia’s a big state.”
“What about the guy you said was in there with you?” Roz asked. “The one who helped you escape. Maybe we can find him.”
Gage straightened. No! Absolutely not!
“I don’t know where he is either,” he said, keeping his voice flat. “We got out and split ways. That’s it.”
Gage changed the subject to something far more important.
“So how does someone come back from the dead?” he asked, setting his fork down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Roz’s chair creaked again. “I was wondering when you’d circle back to that. You’ve been quiet since I told you about the funeral.”
“I’ve been grieving,” Gage said dryly.
Something rustled, probably Roz scratching his beard. “Look, if Elvis can fake his death and go live in peace somewhere in the Midwest, so can you.”
Gage almost snorted coffee out of his nose. “You think Elvis is living in the Midwest?”
“I’m serious! I saw online that an old lady saw him at some hole-in-the-wall diner in Baraboo, Wisconsin.”
Against his will, a startled laugh exploded out of him.
Gage hadn’t thought he’d be capable of laughing ever again.
Leave it to Roz.
“The Midwest is where people go to disappear?” Roz doubled down. “Places like…I dunno…fuck…Kalamazoo, or some shit. We get you a new name, identity, and move you somewhere with a fucked-up name. Timbuktu. Winnebago, or Nimrod, Minnesota. I swear, no one’ll find us.”
Gage was struggling to catch his breath from laughing.
“I’m not going to Timbuktu, or…what the heck did you say? Nimrod.”
“What about Mud Butte, South Dakota…that sound better?”
“Are these even real places?”
“Hell yeah, last night I googled, ‘cities where no one will look for me.’” Roz answered. “There’s tons of places.”
Gage shook his head. “I’m going home.”
The words surprised him with how solid they came out. No tremors or doubt.
Roz went quiet.
Outside noise—that most hearing people didn’t notice— filled the pause: The click of a mailbox closing, someone locking their car door with a quiet chirp, a sprinkler head ticking as it rotated and the rattling of a bicycle chain as someone coasted downhill.
“You sure that’s smart?” Roz asked. “Your folks… They buried you, G.”
“I know.” He cupped his coffee mug with both hands. “I broke their hearts. Burned down half of my dad’s ministry. Embarrassed them in front of everybody who’d ever trusted them.”
He exhaled, long and shaky.
“I can’t fix everything, but I can’t let them live the rest of their lives putting flowers on a grave I’m not in. I gotta tell them I’m alive. Even if they slam the door in my face and tell me to stay dead.”
A heavy hand landed on his shoulder.
