“Departures” is a supernatural thriller and love story published as a serial novel with new episodes dropping every Tuesday morning. Anyone can read or listen for free. Paid subscribers gain early access to new episodes. Watch the trailer or visit the table of contents to browse all the published episodes.
Previously…
In the last episode, June woke up in Wild’s bed alone, having spent the night at his place after the horrible death of her friend Jill at the lake. Her growing attraction to him is amplified by their inability to have physical contact. June was still having doubts about Wild’s supposed curse until he showed her a video documenting his prediction of a man’s death years earlier.
In the weeks that followed that morning in his kitchen, Wild spent nearly every day with June. They floated in the amniotic bubble of new love and rode atop the gathering wave of their abstinence like a pair of devout young Baptists, only there wasn’t any fogging up windows in the backseat of a car or the imminent release of a wedding night.
Until he met June, Wild had lived up to his name. The consequence of his condition only reinforced his preference for the drunken one-night stand. He would sooner have cut off a hand than be celibate. And yet there he was, sitting on the couch in June’s apartment living room watching her pass by the open bedroom door in only a towel before hearing the shower come on, imagining the cascade of water over her breasts and belly, and smelling the jasmine-scented steam that floated like fog through the bathroom door which she left ajar.
“Wild, what should I wear to this thing?” she called out, just soft enough to require him to get up and come to the bathroom door.
“Well, it’s my niece’s birthday party, so probably not a cocktail dress. Do you have a clown costume? Millie loves clowns.”
“Is that why you're her favorite uncle?”
“You’re funny,” he said, leaning against the door jamb of the bathroom but facing away from the shower.
In his periphery, he could see the shape of her in soft focus behind the frosted glass shower door and he swallowed hard.
“Are you watching me?” she asked, her voice low with no hint of accusation.
“I wouldn’t do that,” he said. “Unless of course you wanted me to.”
All morning June had been turning this problem, worrying it like a rosary. Not being able to touch him or to be touched by him was crowding out all her thoughts. It seemed a great injustice which she understood was a ridiculous thing to feel, especially considering the ever-present specter of death that loomed everywhere around this man she was beginning to fall in love with. There was no solution. If they touched, he would know how many days she had left. He would either be forced to bear this burden or worse, she would be forced to know exactly how much time she had left and somehow live with that knowledge. There were moments when she felt she could. Not everyone died young. There was a strong chance her date would be so far away that it could be forgotten completely. But what if it wasn’t? They were living the thought experiment of Schrödinger’s cat.
The only thing that made it tolerable was when she forced herself to think about how bad it must have been for Wild. He had to make this choice with every single human being he encountered. June’s love life hadn’t been prolific, but she had a type. Her mother had nicknamed her The Fixer, having watched June consistently choose boys and then men who were tragically flawed. But God, she wanted Wild more than she’d ever wanted any of them before.
Knowing he was standing there, just a few feet away, she imagined his hands on her. She closed her eyes and imagined her hands were his. She turned slowly and leaned against the wall, allowing the pulsating water to move down her body. When she opened her eyes, she saw the shape of him filling the doorway, facing her. She gasped, a swift, sharp intake of breath through clenched teeth, again, and again. When she opened her eyes, his foggy silhouette was gone.
The birthday party was the most extravagant thing June had ever seen. She understood Wild’s family was wealthy, but he hadn’t prepared her for the level of opulence that would be bestowed upon a five-year-old. It was a far cry from the modest gatherings in June's backyard where there might have been a scraggly piñata and a half-melted ice cream cake from Baskin Robbins.
Wild’s sister, Abby and her husband Gerard Dixon lived on Paces Ferry in an eight-bedroom home with a hotel-sized swimming pool, a tennis court and a manicured back lawn and garden that could easily have been transported from an English manor. Spread across this vista were at least two-hundred guests all decked out as though it were the Kentucky Derby, and yes, June realized, they were drinking Mint Juleps. She was, without a doubt, underdressed in her bargain rack sundress.
Wild was in performance mode, but she forgave him this given the circumstances. She knew he had tried everything to get out of having to go and when he couldn’t, he begged her to come along. He told her that attending such social events solo was a fate worse than death. You needed a plus-one to have a graceful excuse for extracting yourself from conversations that could kill you from boredom or outrage or both.
They had made it through the gauntlet of meeting both Wild’s parents who were stationed strategically at opposite ends of the yard, his father holding forth about deep sea fishing in Destin, while his new child-bride, clinging to the crook of his arm, refreshed her smile and lubricated her laughing mechanism with frequent sips of Prosecco. The former Mrs. Thorne, Patricia, was breathlessly busy coordinating games for the kids on the lawn with Wild’s sister Abby who seemed tired and a bit overwhelmed when she finally looked up long enough to be introduced to June.
“Well hello there! Welcome to the chaos,” she said, stepping over a wailing little boy in a matching Garanimals outfit. “I’m Abby, so nice to meet you. I’d say I’ve heard a lot about you, but I’m afraid Wild here doesn't share a lot. It took a petition to congress just to get him to show up!”
To June’s surprise, she liked Abby right away. His sister had warmth and genuineness that seemed incongruent with the obnoxious trappings of wealth that surrounded her. As they talked, she moved in and slipped an arm around her little brother, tucking herself under his arm. June was so focused on trying to match the thousand-kilowatt energy Abby gave off that it took her a moment to look up and register the masked horror on Wild’s face. He had gone ghostly white, and his eyes were wide and unblinking. Abby hadn’t seemed to notice her brother’s state and was continuing to chatter about her daughter, Millie.
Any normal girlfriend could’ve reached out and touched her distressed partner and said, “are you okay?” or even grabbed him by the arm and helped him find a restroom. This was not a reaction to bad tuna salad, and since she couldn’t respond like a normal girlfriend, June did the next best thing.
She grabbed Abby by the other arm and said, “You know it’s so hot, I would really love one of those mint juleps and I’d love to know how you make them.”
As Abby guided her over to the tent where the bar was set up, June ventured a look back over her shoulder. Wild was still standing there, but his face was in his hands. What in the hell was that about? She had just assumed he had come into contact with his sister at some point in the past eight years. If not, how was that even possible? The thought gave her a hopeless sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach when she imagined her future.
Fortunately, the hostess could only devote a couple of precious minutes to a single guest and June was soon free to go look for Wild who had disappeared up the wide staircase that led into the house. She hurried after him, afraid she might get lost if she had to search the sprawling mansion. Fortunately, she didn’t have to. She heard Wild’s voice coming from a room somewhere off to the right of the open sitting room.
“...yeah, I’m good, man. Just got a little too hot out there and I needed to cool off.”
June lingered to listen before going in.
“Try one of these,” the other man’s voice said.
There was the sound of a cabinet door opening and closing, followed by the snap and fizz of a can of beer being cracked open.
After a beat, she heard Wild ask, “Who’s winning?”
It sounded to June like his performance voice had returned which she took as a good sign. He was used to taking care of himself. She was thinking she might find some quiet corner to hide out for the rest of the party – maybe they had some extensive library she could peruse, but as she was turning away from the room, Wild called to her.
“June? Come over here, I want you to meet my brother-in-law, Gerard. Gerry, this is my friend, June. She loves the Braves. Doesn’t miss a game.”
“Oh yeah?” the brother-in-law said.
“No, he’s kidding,” she answered, unable to affect the kind of performance Wild could deliver. How June felt always showed, for better or worse.
“That’s too bad, cause we got ourselves a good one going right now. We’re up by two, bottom of the seventh.”
If you looked up “young affluent American businessman from the South” in an anthropology book a thousand years into the future, June thought, it would have a picture of this guy. He wore a salmon–colored Lacoste golf shirt with a popped collar and over it, a blue blazer. His little paunch peeked over the waistband of his pleated chinos. His face was pinched and sunburned, and his tortoise-shell glasses framed a pair of sleepy eyes that narrowed to slits. Those eyes combined with the weird frowning smile he made when he bobbed his head while listening to her awkward small talk made her think of a stoned turtle. He seemed like an old man in a young man’s body.
June could tell Wild didn’t like him. Even if he hadn’t just had an episode, he would have been in a hurry to escape his brother-in-law’s company before talk turned to investments, real estate, and golf. Fortunately, someone announced loudly from the backdoor that it was time to sing happy birthday, so they had an excuse to go outside and from there, slip away unnoticed.
“What the hell happened back there with your sister,” June asked as they made their way down the long driveway to his vehicle.
“I’ll tell you when we’re in the car,” he said.
A sudden otherworldly breeze blew in, lifting June’s hair. She looked up and studied the darkening sky where pronounced clouds were rolling in to lay waste to what had been a perfectly sunny September day for a little girl’s birthday party just moments before. The first big splats of rain dotted her dress as they ran to reach Wild’s old Toyota Landcruiser. Once they were inside, the clouds opened up and dumped rain like they were in a carwash, making it impossible to drive until it let up.
June turned in her seat to face him, expectantly. He ran his hands through his wet hair, sighed and leaned his head against the headrest.
“It’s fucking awful.” His voice, little more than a whisper. “Poor Abby.”
“What? What do you mean? How could you not already know…”
“No, you don’t understand. There were two dates. Two dates came to me when she hugged me.”
June was still confused, and it seemed to distress and irritate Wild to have to say the words out loud.
“She’s pregnant, June. She’s going to lose a baby.”
“Oh, God.”
Neither of them spoke for a full minute or two. The violence of the rain on the roof of the car filled the space. June imagined Abby running frantically to bring things in from the party she had tried so hard to make perfect for her little girl. She saw her picking up paper cups and plates with half-eaten, soggy birthday cake in one hand while her other absently cradled the small, imperceptible bump of her belly. As the pounding rain diminished, and the car grew quiet, Wild turned to her and broke the silence.
“It’s six weeks from now. October fifteenth.”
June wanted to ask, are you sure? But bit her tongue. It was still too much to accept. She wanted to say, we have to do something, warn her. But she didn’t. She understood enough by now to know that if Wild had the power to stop the deaths he foresaw, he wouldn’t be living alone in an apartment with no windows.
“I know you can’t do anything to prevent it,” she said. “But maybe there’s something you can do to make it easier at least.”
He lifted his gaze from his lap to look at June. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked so tired. He didn’t respond, so June continued.
“Do everything you can to be close to her and make her comfortable. Show her you care. And… be there to pick her up when it’s over.”
“I can’t tell her.”
“No, that’s not what I mean, Wild. How much do you really see your sister? How much support does she feel from you or anyone else?”
There was an easing in Wild’s expression as though her words loosened a knot he had been pulling ever tighter around his neck in his desperation to escape. Perhaps she had a superpower too. She couldn’t change anything, but she could help him see things in a way he was blind to.
« Previous Episode | Table of Contents | Next Episode »
Make a New Friend in the Comments
I’ve witnessed a really cool thing happen as I’ve published two other novels online like this. People who love the story and talk about it in the comments each week discover other likeminded readers and other fantastic writers. Many lasting friendships and collaborations start in the comments section. Share your thought and make a friend.
Want More? Check Out My Other Novels
If you’re enjoying “Departures,” chances are you’ll also like my two previously published novels. You can preview the first couple of episodes for free.
In 2052, Magdalena, a brilliant programmer invents a device for telepathic communication with AI, seeking to decode the mind of her twin, the shooter in a school massacre she alone survived, but when she resurrects his consciousness, she unleashes a malevolence that could destroy her. Fans of the movie “Ex Machina” will love this story.
In the reality show competition for Houze, a revolutionary eco-home, six contestants face a winner-takes-all challenge. Beneath the surface of sustainability, altruism battles greed, turning a hopeful vision into a life and death struggle. Fans of “Nine Perfect Strangers” by Liane Moriarty will love this story.
Want to Help?
For independent authors like me who don’t have the support of a big publisher and marketing team, your enthusiastic support for my work means EVERYTHING. You can help others find my books by liking, commenting on, restacking, and sharing episodes like this one with anyone you know who loves to read.
I know how much competes for your time and attention so I’m so grateful you’ve honored me by sharing a portion of it each week. Thank you. ❤️
Love the Music?
If you love the soundtrack for “Departures” you should check out the work of my friend and collaborator
. All the cool sounds you hear that aren’t guitars are his. You can also find links to my catalog of music here as well as Spotify or anywhere you stream music.
Share this post