Fallout (Crank 3)

sure how, and even less sure

of what to say. I start to back

away, but Trey takes over for me.

You must be Hunter. Wow.

I haven’t seen you since you

were a baby. Damn. I’m, um …

Is Kristina here, by any chance?

Hunter—my brother—nods an

“oh, okay” nod, turns, and yells,

Kristina! Someone’s here to see

you. Beyond him, amazing Christmas

decorations swag staircase

railings, and the scent of turkey

roasting and bread dough rising

makes my mouth start to water.

A woman comes to the door.

I have dreamed of this face,

only a younger version of it.

Kristina. My mother. Curiosity

lights her eyes, only to be

replaced by sudden wonder.

Trey, she says. What are you …?

Then her eyes fall on me.

AT FIRST

There is no hint of recognition.

I could be a Jehovah’s Witness,

passing out literature. But then,

a rain:

Memory search

Denial