Page 70

Rex

The French Quarter is buzzing with energy tonight, that’s for sure. Partygoers in costumes fill the streets, dancing to the sounds of brass bands and the rumble of passing floats. I’m standing here, keeping an eye on Remy and the kids, but my thoughts are elsewhere. The Krewe of Boo parade is in full swing, but I’m struggling to focus after Meredith’s unexpected arrival earlier. It’s hard keeping this secret. Rem will find out as soon as we get home, but telling Birdie that her mother is in town is a whole different challenge.

Rem’s laugh snaps me back to reality. God, she’s beautiful. Those green eyes of hers are twinkling as she helps Beaux grab for some orange and black beads flying through the air. Birdie is squealing and snatching candies out of the air like it’s going out of style.

“Daddy! Look!” Birdie’s waving a fistful of candy in my face. I plaster on a smile, trying to shove down the threat from Meredith.

“That’s great, princess!” I call up to her, my voice straining to be heard over the noise of the parade. I feel a tug on my shirt and look down to see Beaux, his eyes wide with excitement.

“Can we go closer, Dad? I wanna see the zombies!” He points eagerly towards a group of elaborately made-up performers shambling down the street.

I glance at Remy, silently asking for her approval. She nods, a small smile playing on her lips, but I can see the tension in her shoulders.

“Alright, buddy,” I say. “Let’s go check out those zombies. Hold your mom’s hand, okay?”

As we make our way through the crowd, I can’t help but scan the faces around us. Is Meredith here somewhere, watching? The thought sends a chill down my spine. I adjust Birdie on my shoulders, holding her legs a little tighter. We push through the throng of revelers, inching closer to the parade route. Beaux tugs insistently on Remy’s hand, practically dragging her forward in his eagerness to see the zombies up close.

As we near the barricades, I feel Birdie stiffen on my shoulders. Her tiny fingers grip my hair tightly, and I hear a small whimper escape her lips.

“You okay up there, princess?” I ask, tilting my head back to try and catch a glimpse of her face.

“The zombies are scary, Daddy,” she whispers.

“Remember what we talked about? They’re just people in costumes. It’s all pretend, baby.” Rem reaches up and gives her leg a reassuring squeeze.

Suddenly, Beaux lets out an excited yelp. “Look! There they are!” He points eagerly as a group of zombie performers lurch into view, their makeup gruesome and realistic under the flickering street lights.

I feel Birdie’s grip tighten again, but she doesn’t cry out. Rem moves closer, placing a protective hand on Beaux’s shoulder as the zombies approach. Their eyes are milky white, skin painted a sickly gray-green, with fake blood and bits of ‘rotting flesh’ hanging off their faces and arms. It’s impressive work, I have to admit, even as I feel a twinge of unease.

One of the zombies spots us and begins to lurch over, arms outstretched. Beaux is practically vibrating with excitement. I’m about to suggest we step back when the zombie speaks, his voice surprisingly gentle despite his gruesome appearance.

“Hey there, little man,” he says to Beaux. “Want some candy?”

Beaux nods enthusiastically, and the zombie pulls a handful of wrapped sweets from a hidden pocket, dropping them into Beaux’s waiting hands. Then he looks up at Birdie, still perched on my shoulders.

“How about you, sweetheart? You want some too?”

Birdie hesitates, then nods shyly. The zombie reaches up, offering her a piece of candy. After a moment’s pause, she takes it, her tiny hand brushing against his makeup-covered fingers.

“See?” The zombie performer winks at Birdie, breaking character for just a moment. “Not so scary up close, huh?”

I feel Birdie relax on my shoulders, her grip on my hair loosening. She even manages a small giggle. “Thank you, Mr. Zombie,” she says softly.

The performer grins, revealing fake rotting teeth, then shuffles back to rejoin his group.

“That was so cool!” Beaux exclaims, bouncing on his toes. He’s clutching his handful of zombie candy like it’s a treasure. “Can we follow them, Mom? Please?”

Rem hesitates, glancing at me. Before she can answer, another float rumbles by, this one throwing strings of purple and gold beads into the crowd.

“Ooh, pretty!” Birdie squeals, momentarily distracted from the zombies. She reaches out, trying to catch the flying beads. I grab a strand out of the air and hand it up to her.

Rem catches my eye, her brow furrowing slightly.

A particularly garish float lumbers by, all orange lights and giant pumpkins. The crowd around us surges forward, and I instinctively reach out to steady Rem. My hand finds the small of her back, and for a moment, I’m grounded again. This is my family. This is what matters.

“Mama, look! It’s the ghost ship!” he shouts, bouncing on his toes.

Rem’s attention is pulled away, and I’m granted a temporary reprieve. But I know it won’t last. As soon as we get home, as soon as the kids are in bed, I’ll tell her. How she will react to the news is unlikely to be positive. I should probably hide her gun before I tell her. It might be safer for all parties involved.

Birdie squirms on my shoulders, her tiny hands patting my head for attention. “Daddy, I’m thirsty. Can we get a drink?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. Let’s find a food truck.”

As we start to move away from the parade, I catch a flash of blonde hair in the crowd that makes my heart skip a beat. For a moment, I’m certain it’s Meredith, but then the person turns, and I see it’s just another costumed reveler. The kids are talking excitedly about the parade, but I’m only half-listening. We’re about to reach the row of food vendors when Beaux suddenly lets out a gasp of excitement.

“Look! A funhouse!” he shouts, pointing to a garishly painted structure just off to our left. It’s all neon colors and warped mirrors, with a comically large clown face serving as the entrance. The mouth is wide open, forming a doorway that leads into darkness.

“Can we go in? Please, please, please?” Birdie chimes in, bouncing on my shoulders.

I hesitate, eyeing the funhouse warily. It’s clearly built for kids. The entrance is barely tall enough for me to duck through, let alone navigate the twists and turns inside. Under normal circumstances, I might consider letting them go in while Rem and I wait outside. But today? With Meredith lurking somewhere in the city, possibly even in this very crowd? No way in hell.

“I don’t know, guys,” I say. “It looks pretty crowded in there.”

Rem gives me a questioning look, picking up on my unease. She knows me too well.

“Aw, come on, Dad!” Beaux pleads, tugging on my shirt. “It’ll be fun! We’ll be super quick, I promise!”

I’m about to refuse again when Rem steps in, her tone gentle but firm. “How about this, I’ll take Beaux and Birdie through the funhouse while Daddy gets us some drinks?” “Rem…”

She leans closer to me, purposely keeping her voice low enough the kids can’t hear her. “Why are you so hell bent on keeping the kids close? What’s going on, Rex? Enough of the bullshit.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Then why are you so hesitant about me taking the kids through the funhouse?”

“Fine,” I relent, carefully lifting Birdie off my shoulders and setting her down next to Beaux. “What kind of drinks does everyone want?”

After taking their orders, I watch as they join the short line for the funhouse. Rem glances back at me, concern evident in her eyes. I force a smile and give her a thumbs up, which she returns hesitantly before turning her attention back to the kids. I turn to leave, scanning the nearby food stalls for drinks, when I hear Beaux’s voice rise above the crowd noise.

“Mama, are you okay?”

My heart skips a beat as I whirl around. The world seems to slow down, sounds muffling as I focus on Rem. She’s hunched over slightly, one hand pressed against her swollen belly, the other gripping Beaux’s shoulder. Her face is contorted in pain, those beautiful green eyes squeezed shut.

My feet are moving before I even realize it, pushing through the throng of costumed revelers. The crowd seems to part around me, or maybe I’m just shoving my way through, I don’t care. All I can see is Rem, her chest heaving as she tries to breathe through whatever’s happening.

“Rem!” I call out. “What’s wrong?”

I reach her just as her knees start to buckle. My arms wrap around her instinctively, supporting her body. She leans into me, her body trembling.

“Rex,” she gasps, her voice tight with pain. “It’s...a contraction.”

Birdie’s eyes are wide with concern, her little hand clutching at Rem’s shirt. My heart is pounding so hard I can barely hear the chaos of the parade around us. Rem’s face is pale, a sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead. She grips my arm tightly, her nails digging into my skin as another contraction hits.

“Fuck,” she hisses, her eyes squeezing shut.

I’m frozen, my mind racing. It’s too early. The baby isn’t due for another three months. This can’t be happening, not here, not now.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” I say.

Rem shakes her head, her breathing labored. “Don’t...don’t scare the kids. “I look down at Beaux and Birdie. They don’t fully understand what’s happening, and Rem’s right - we can’t panic them.

“Mama’s just feeling a little sick.” She manages a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Why don’t you two go ahead into the funhouse? We’ll be right here when you come out.”

Beaux hesitates, his blue eyes darting between us. “Are you sure, Mama?”

“Of course, baby.”

They’re gone before I can utter a word to stop them. I start after them, but Rem sags against me, her body trembling. I wrap my arms around her, feeling the rapid rise and fall of her chest against mine. The crowd swirls around us, but all I can focus on is Rem. Her skin is clammy, and I can see the pain etched in the lines around her eyes.

“How long has this been going on?” I ask, trying to keep my own fear from bleeding into my voice.

Rem takes a shaky breath. “I’ve been having contractions on and off for a few weeks,” she admits, not meeting my eyes. “The doctor said it was just Braxton Hicks. Normal for this stage of pregnancy.”

My heart drops. Weeks? She’s been dealing with this for weeks and didn’t tell me? I want to be angry, but the fear in her eyes stops me cold. This isn’t the time for accusations.

“We need to get you to the hospital,” I say, my tone leaving no room for argument.

“No,” she demands. “They’ll pass like they always do.”

I stare at her in disbelief, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. ‘

“We need to go to the hospital, baby. You’re in pain,” I declare, my voice rising despite my efforts to stay calm.

She takes a deep breath, wincing slightly as she straightens up. Her hand is still pressed against her swollen belly, but her eyes meet mine with that fierce resolve I’ve always loved and feared in equal measure.

“I know my body, Rex,” she says, her tone softening. “If we rush to the hospital every time I feel something, we’ll be living there until the baby comes.”

I’m about to argue further when Rem’s grip on my arm is tightening painfully. Another contraction hits, and this time, she can’t hold back a low moan of pain. My heart races as I watch her struggle through it, counting the seconds in my head. It lasts nearly a minute before she relaxes slightly, her breath coming in short gasps.

“Okay,” she whispers. “Maybe...maybe you’re right. We should go.”

Relief floods through me, but it’s short-lived as I remember our current situation. “The kids,” I say, glancing at the funhouse entrance. “We can’t leave them here.”

As if on cue, we hear excited shrieks and laughter from inside the funhouse. Under normal circumstances, the sound would warm my heart. Now, it just adds to my growing anxiety.

“I’ll go get them,” I say, already moving towards the entrance. I duck into the funhouse, my heart pounding in my chest. The narrow corridors are a maze of distorted mirrors and flashing lights, disorienting me as I push through. Kids’ laughter echoes off the walls, but none of the voices belong to Beaux or Birdie. With each step, my panic grows.

I emerge from the exit, blinking in the harsh light of the street. A bored-looking teenager in a clown costume is manning the exit, lazily collecting tickets.

“Hey,” I call out. “Did you see two kids come out of here? A boy and a girl, about this tall?” I hold my hand out to indicate their heights.

The kid looks at me, his painted-on smile a stark contrast to his disinterested eyes. “Lots of kids come through here, man.”

“Please,” I say. “The girl was in a pink princess dress, and the boy is dressed as a grim reaper.”

Something in my tone must get through to him because he furrows his brow, thinking. “Oh yeah,” he says after a moment. “I remember them. Cute kids.”

Relief floods through me, but it’s short-lived.

“They left a few minutes ago,” the kid continues, jerking his thumb towards the crowded street. “With some lady. Blonde, I think.”

The world tilts sideways. My vision narrows, and for a moment, all I can hear is the pounding of my own heart. Blonde. Some blonde lady took my kids. Meredith. It has to be her.

“Which way did they go?” I demand, grabbing the kid’s shoulders. He flinches eyes wide with sudden fear.

“I-I don’t know, man! They just walked off into the crowd!”

I release him, spinning around to scan the sea of costumed revelers. The parade is still in full swing, the streets packed with people. Finding two small children in this chaos seems impossible.

“Beaux! Birdie!” I shout. Panic claws at my throat as I push through the crowd, searching desperately for any sign of my children or Meredith.

Suddenly, I remember Rem. Shit. I left her alone, in pain. I turn back towards where I last saw her, only to find she’s no longer there. My heart races even faster. Where is she? Did she go after the kids? Or did something worse happen?

I’m about to charge back into the crowd when I hear a familiar voice calling my name. I whirl around to see Rem pushing her way towards me, her face pale but determined.

“Rex! What’s going on? Where are the kids?”

I grab Rem’s arms, steadying her as another contraction hits. Her face contorts in pain, but her eyes are locked on mine. The world around us seems to fade away as I struggle to find the words.

“They’re gone,” I finally manage to choke out. “The kids...they’re gone.”