Origin - Season One by Nathaniel Dean James

won’t make any difference if we give them what they want?”
    “I don’t even know who they are right now, Gerald. Until I figure that out, we can’t take any chances.”
    “Oh god!” Gerald said. “What am I supposed to do?”
    The anger had gone out of him. Now he was just afraid.
    “Call Cynthia. Get her to leave and take the drive with her. Tell her to put as many miles between herself and the house as possible.”
    “You know her,” Gerald said. “She’ll want to know why. She’s sick, for Christ’s sake. I can’t just tell her to leave.”
    “You’ll think of a way. You have to. As for yourself, just get out of there. Stay close to the shore. I’ll contact you again as soon as I can.”
    “Where are you?” Gerald asked.
    “Not far. Now go!”
    The screen flashed and the new message read:
    line terminated................
    Gerald pushed the laptop closed and ran back to the cockpit for his phone. Cynthia picked up on the first ring.
    “Honey, it’s me. I need you to listen to me very carefully.”
    “Gerald, are you drunk?” Cynthia asked.
    Gerald took a deep breath and said the only thing he believed would get her attention. “Cynthia, shut your fucking mouth and listen to me. This is serious. I don’t have time to explain, so you’re going to have to trust me.”
    When she spoke again her voice was unsteady. “Gerald, you’re scaring me.”
    “Cynthia, I need you to do what I tell you. Someone might be coming to the house to look for me. If they do, you can’t be there. I want you to go into my office and open the safe.”
    There was silence, followed by a faint sob. And then, barely audible, “Okay.”
    He waited for her to get downstairs and heard the door opening. A moment later she was back.
    “I don’t know the code.”
    “It’s two, eight, six, five, nine, five.”
    He heard the safe beeping as she typed in the numbers, then a click as the door opened.
    “Take out the black bag and go to the garage.”
    “What is it, Gerald?”
    “Never mind, darling. Just do it.”
    He could hear the initial shock beginning to wear off. Cynthia was unstable, but she was also stubborn. He was going to have her get some things together and take the gun from the drawer in his bedside table, but thought better of it.
    “I’m in the garage,” Cynthia said, her voice a little steadier now, a little more skeptical.
    “Good. Get in the car and open the garage door.”
    It seemed to take an eternity, but eventually he heard the car door open and shut again. In the background the whir of the electric door opener started up.
    “Now what do I do?” she asked.
    “Put it in drive and go.”
    “Where?”
    He knew that to tell her to just go anywhere would be too much. He decided to send her somewhere familiar. If Walter didn’t like that, it was tough shit.
    “I want you to go to Uncle Kyle’s place in McIndo Falls. Drive to Chicopee, then cross the river and head up Interstate 91. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”
    “Gerald?”
    “What?”
    “Please tell me you haven’t sold the house.”
    The question was so unexpected, and yet so in tune with her over-cynical nature that despite everything, he almost laughed.
    “No, darling. I haven’t sold the house. Now I need you to get going.”
    “To Chicopee?”
    “To Chicopee, then onto I-91. I’ll call Kyle and let him know you’re coming. Don’t stop until you get there.”
    “You’ll call me?”
    “Yes. As soon as I can.”
    He hung up before she could say anything else and prayed that she wouldn’t change her mind and go back into the house. It was by no means a sure thing that she wouldn’t. If she went back now, it would be to the medicine cabinet upstairs. If she did that, whoever Walter thought might be coming could break into the house with a bulldozer and probably find her still asleep on the couch.
    Gerald looked around, trying to decide what to do next. Walter had told him to get out of there. What he wanted to do was