The Flamekeepers of Delta Psi Theta - 9. Drive

The windshield wipers kept perfect time with whatever Taylor Swift song Track had chosen.

“So why Taylor Swift, and why do all of these say “Taylor’s version” on them?” I asked as we chewed the miles.

“She is amazing! She had to re-record all her songs to retain ownership. I'm sorry, it's not simple like Ronnie Milsap or anything,” He said, sticking his tongue out at me.

“Do not speak ill of Ronnie Milsap, or I will turn this car around.” I joked right back.

“Oh yeah, I'm sure,” he said, trying to tickle my side.

We started to play fight. I steered the car with my knee as we play-slapped each other. It felt natural, like with Mom and Anton. The beeping of the traction control, reminding me we were going 70 on a wet highway, stopped the fight.

“You are such a little shit,” Track said after a few minutes.

“One to talk, lil bro,” I said, messing up his still-wet hair.

We had been driving for about an hour. We had stopped a while back to get some road trip supplies. My nerves were on edge inside the small store, so I grabbed a pack of smokes to try and calm my nerves. While in the store, the sky opened again, soaking us as we ran back to the car.

Track used my phone to keep playing Taylor while the GPS directed us from the more traveled highways to smaller and smaller roads as we got higher into the mountains. We ended up in a town without street signs as we followed the route to a church on top of a ridge line. Two hours and change after leaving the house, we were here.

“Right here,” Track said with uncharacteristic force as I stopped the car.

He jumped out and made his way while I leaned on the hood to have a smoke. I hadn’t smoked in years, and the first cigarette gave me trouble as it was still wet from earlier. The clouds were still passing in front of the sun, switching from overcast to bright sun without warning.

“Those things will kill ya.”

The hair on my neck rose, hearing his voice. I tried to touch the spark and bring up my light, but that door seemed still locked.

“At ease, son. I'm just here to talk.”

Bullshit. Absolute bullshit. Track was standing at a grave out of earshot of us, and he could still call his armor and weapons if needed. Unfortunately for us both and our rage, the best chance of getting out of here was to get my dad to fuck off on his own.

“When have you ever wanted just to talk,” I said, taking a drag on my cigarette.

“I guess that’s fair,” he said, leaning with me on the car.

There was an uncomfortable silence between us. The rumble of distant thunder came across us before my dad said something else.

“I know you hate me.”

“Don't know what gave you that impression. Every son would love being beaten, dragged to the ass end of nowhere, and left for dead.”

“Things are different now. Son, this is so much bigger than just you and I,” He said, avoiding my eye contact.

“What is bigger than you and I?”

“Your birthright. I tried to keep you from it like a jackass. Your mother hurt me and took it out on you.”

“I was a child,” I said coldly.

“You were MY child, and she wanted you to be a nobody. Just some other kid in the holler. That wouldn’t do.”

“Yeah, well, you did such a good job. You wanted me to be someone with your name, but all my medals have a different name.”

“You are my son no matter what name you use. It's about the connection, just like you two,” He said, motioning towards Track.

My blood was like ice.

“It’s nothing like him and me, and you leave him out of whatever your scheme is,” I said, ensuring my tone stayed measured.

He stared at me silently, visibly plotting his next move in our verbal chess match.

“So what do you expect to do now that you're a decorated veteran or something?” He asked me, feigning interest.

“Get a degree and live a quiet life where I'm happy,” I answered, causing him to straighten up visibly.

“My boy, you have no idea what you are, do you? Your mother still holds you back. You are my son, the son of an Umbrian with the power of a spark. You are so much more than you think.”

I was making him angry, and he started to lose the plot. More talking around the issue. I could push, and he would break out of his fake nice guy routine and probably fuck off.

“You are incapable of giving a straight answer, aren’t you?” I said, dropping the cigarette on the ground and smashing out the embers on the rapidly drying pavement.

“You continue to confuse me, son. You could kill me where I stand, and I could do nothing to stop it. Yet instead, you use your power to try and hurt me verbally. You remind me so much of your mother.”

“Good,” I spat, “that's the greatest compliment you could give me.”

“I can’t make you do anything, son. I know that. I know I ruined that path by taking out my rage on you. But please, let me show you what you really are, what you really could be.”

“I know what I am. I'm the son of a wonderful waitress and a good man with the last name Novotny.”

I could feel his rage building next to me. After all these years, he hadn’t changed. He would start with kindness; then his next step would be threats. Only now, he knew he couldn't use his last step of actual violence.

“You can come by choice now or after I make you hurt. You know I can make it incredibly painful for you.”

“More painful than losing Mom and Anton? More painful than the bruises, broken ribs, and abandonment at the rest stop? More painful than losing Becker and Harveson? Believe me, Jack, you got me real used to pain.”

“Issac, please,” He looked at me with pleading eyes.

I lit another cigarette, “That's a new trick. You eat enough souls to do puppy dog eyes?”

He stiffened his body at that. He straightened his clothes as they changed from shorts and a t-shirt into a black suit with a charcoal grey tie.

“Listen to me very close, son. This new crowd you are hanging with will be the death of you. Once you are no longer of use to them, they will kick you to the curb so fast you will think I was caring. I can show you a way, the way the son of an Umbrian deserves.”

I stared at him with cold intensity as I took a drag of the cigarette. A gust of wind knocked the ash from the end as the glowing embers fell towards my feet. A wave of resolve flowed up through me as the truth I wanted to say for years spewed forth from my mouth.

“Just so you know, they know I'm a faggot, they know I’m a marine, they know I'm an old man,” I said, closing the distance until our faces were almost touching, “they also know the unfortunate circumstances of my paternity. It turns out you just aren't that important.”

I stepped back from him, his body locked and his eyes burning with rage. The vein on his forehead that all dads seemed to have pulsed as he ground his teeth. I relit the rest of my cigarette as my dad struggled to find words. I smoked silently until the paper reached the filter, my father still staring at me with fiery rage.

“Well, good talk, old man. I love these little get-togethers. Can't wait till I'm in my 30s for the next one.” I said, leaving my car to stand by Track.

“This isn't over, son. You will fulfill your birthright.”

“I don't imagine it is. Like herpes, you will flare up once a decade demanding unearned respect, and I'll do my best not just to tell you to go fuck yourself. Until the planet dies, we will do this dance. But today, I'm just going to say go fuck yourself and my birthright and whatever else you have to say.”

I turned my back on my dad as a massive crack of thunder echoed through the valley. The sun disappeared behind the clouds again as I walked up to Track.

“How you doin' lil bro?”

“Novo, this is my mom. Mom, this is Novo,” he said, looking at me with wet eyes as we stood at her gravestone.

“You know she’s proud of you.”

“Of us.” He said, putting his arm around me, “brothers in arms.”

I had to smile. My little bro was sapping out all of my (in my mind) justified rage. I felt calm until I looked back to where he had just talked to me. Like a wildfire, my rage surged back through my veins.

My phone vibrated with another text from that unknown number: “Yo, it's Ryan. Where the hell are you guys?”

“You about ready, champ?” I asked Track.

“Yeah,” he said, wiping a tear while smiling.

A visible white sheet of rain started to head toward us as we made our way to my car. We closed the doors just as it reached us. The rain pelted down on us as I shot a reply to Ryan, telling him we were on our way back. The windshield wipers moved to maximum speed as I slowly drove through town.

“So you didn't know Taylor Swift, but you listen to Lana Del Rey?” He asked me as I put on music.

“I knew of her but never really listened. And, of course, I listen to Lana; it's the music for people with daddy issues like us.”

Track rolled his eyes and shook his head as we slowly made our way out of the small holler. The increasing rain made visibility low, so I drove slowly. Occasionally, flashes of lightning would illuminate the haze as if a strobe light had just gone off.

“Jesus Christ, where the hell did rain like this come from,” Track said after a particularly close lightning strike.

“It's crazy, right?” I asked, pulling up the GPS and seeing how much time we had left to get to the house.

“We gonna make it?” He asked, showing nerves for the first time.

“We will make it, champ, trust me,” I told him, faking confidence.

The miles clicked down, but not fast enough. It took a little over two hours to get up here, and now the rain kept us below half the speed we had coming up. I could feel a growing knot in my stomach that we wouldn’t make it back in time. I wish I had Becker here; he would find a way to drive through all this shit.

The rain somehow got even heavier as the strobe flashes of lightning became more rapid. I could barely see brake lights as visibility dropped to nothing. There was a constant rumble of thunder as track grabbed my hand.

“You ok, champ?” I asked him.

“I don't want to forget you.” He said, tears filling his eyes as our arrival time clicked above 9.

“Hey, brothers for life, remember,” I said, wiping his teary eyes.

“Promise?” He asked, holding out his pinky.

“Promise, champ,” I said, locking my pinky around his.

The rain lessened enough that I could see a few car lengths in front of me. No matter how mad I was at Teo, I made a promise to Track. He needed to see it through. It was then I had a Becker-level idea.

“Track, can you grab the manual in the glove box? I need you to look up the adaptive cruise control and see if it's radar or camera-guided.”

“Why?”

“So we can get you to the house in time.”

He dug into the manual and found the page.

“It says it uses a front-facing radar and camera.”

“Hopefully it's an infrared camera,” I said quietly, setting the cruise control to the maximum following distance and cranking the speed to 50.

“Do you know what you are doing, Novo?” Track asked me as we sped up.

“Something Becker taught me once,” I said, gripping his hand as we sped up.

The speed crept up. Any gain would be a win; every ten we gained felt like a massive victory. We hit 50 as the GPS updated the arrival time again, putting us under the cutoff. If we could keep this speed, Track would make it. The knot in my stomach didn’t want to go away, but at least with speed, we had a fighting chance.

We had turned the music off, and we both focused out the windshield, looking for brake lights. The cruise control hadn’t seen another vehicle. I wanted to increase the speed, but this was already risky as hell driving blind like this. I looked over at Track's scared face, staring at the GPS arrival time, and that was enough. I pushed the speed up to 60 as the rain started to weaken.

We finally saw brake lights and slowed down. We were moving, but it was clear something big happened up front based on the flashing lights in the fog. As we came up on the accident, we saw several vehicles on their passenger sides, along with a turned-over semi.

“Shit, what could make them all fall to their side in a row like that,” Track asked as we passed.

Among the first responders in high visibility, there were other darker figures, almost looking like they were darting between cars without walking. Track saw them, and his reaction was visceral. His hands started to glow as the car in front of us came to a stop.

“Track not now; just lay low,” I said quietly, scared those things would hear us.

“I'm trying,” Track said, stressed as he shook his hands like I had on the mountain.

It was too late. One of the black figures started to move towards us. In the back of my head, I could feel something scream to drive on the shoulder and go. As I spun the steering wheel to drive on the gravel, my foot smashed the gas to the floor. I prayed we wouldn’t sink in as we passed the other stopped cars as the figure started to give chase.

We passed a cop car that had stopped traffic and moved back into empty lanes as we continued to accelerate away from whatever that thing was. I prayed the highway patrol would be too busy with the accident to give chase as we put as much distance between the Umbrian and us as possible. We drove a few miles above 100 before I could relax my foot enough to let up on the gas pedal.

“You ok, Track?” I said as we slowed down to 70.

“Yeah. I think.” He said as the light finally disappeared from his body, and he caught his breath.

We sat silently, watching the miles click down as we both came down from what had just happened. Finally, I turned the volume on music back up just as Dark Paradise started. Track held my hand as I drove, keeping an eye on the rearview for any highway patrol with a problem with my little maneuver back there.

“Thank you,” he said finally as his heart calmed down.

“For what?”

“Finding a way past that crash”

“That was for both of us, champ. We got each other's backs.”

The GPS showed us closer to an eight arrival, but I was still nervous to make a pit stop. I could see I wasn't the only one as Track fidgeted in his seat. Part of me knew he was in the same boat, nervous but not wanting to make a pit stop so he would stay quiet. The miles passed, and his fidgeting got funnier to watch.

“You ok there, champ?” I asked him.

“Kinda gotta piss.”

“Need me to make a stop?”

“Absolutely not. I can hold it.”

“Well, I can't. Can you grab one of the old Gatorade bottles from the drive up?” I told him.

“You're just gonna piss right here?” He asked incredulously.

“Yeah man, joys of being a dude”

I hauled out my hog while keeping my eye on the road and lined my head with the mouth of the bottle, and let loose, piss pouring out of my foreskin into the bottle. I looked over to see Track's eyes glued on my cock as it let loose its stream.

“There's another bottle back there, champ,” I said as my stream weakened.

That seemed to knock him out of his reverie and remind him of his urgent need. He reached into the back seat and grabbed the other empty bottle out of the bag from the snack run.

“Now you see why I get the Gatorade; wide-mouth bottles are easier to aim,” I joked as I tightened the lid on my piss-filled bottle.

“And this way, we get to the house on time so I don't forget you.”

“Aww, buddy,” I said, tussling his hair.

“Gross bro,” he said, pushing my hand away while trying to keep his meat in the bottle while he pissed.

“Don't you piss on my seat, ya little shit,” I said with a chuckle, leaving him to fill the bottle.

He gave me the finger as I put my now full bottle in the same trash bag we got them from. I left my pants open, and Track did the same after he put his bottle in the bag. After the chaos earlier, the rest of the drive was peaceful. The sun was setting as we pulled up to the house. Ryan looked at us with relief as Bear came out. Track got out and walked to the house without question.

“You coming?” Track asked me as he saw me stop in front of the car.

“Right behind you, champ, just gonna burn one of these,” I said, pulling the pack of cigs out of my pocket.

“Besides, we gotta talk,” Teo thundered from the porch.

My rage instantly flared again. I took a long drag on the cig, hoping the nicotine would help calm my nerves. A huge part of me wanted to punch Teo in the face when he got close to me. He leaned on the hood of my car and looked at me with tired eyes. I felt for him.

“So,” he said, wiping his hands on his shorts, “I fucked up. I fucked up bad.”

“Yup,” I said before taking a drag on my cig.

“They have never acted like this. Something has changed the calculus. Even our normal back channels to communicate are gone. They are preparing for something.” He said, exhaustion and worry leaking through his false confidence.

“Me. I changed the calculus—something about a birthright,” I said, stamping out my cig.

“That doesn't make sense. The Umbrian who has been posing as your father only recently took control of the…” he stood off the hood of the car and got close to my face, “He isn't just posing as your father, is he? He searched you out, sent messengers, and even spoke with you on your little road trip, didn't he?

I looked at him blankly, debating burning another cig.

“That… is not possible.” He said, shaking his head, “What the fuck are you?”

“Pissed off. Super pissed off. My little brother, that just walked into that house, has to rely on your shitty decision-making to keep him safe. Pissed off at myself for trusting. Pissed off at the world for not letting me just be.”

He just nodded and leaned on the hood of my car. I leaned next to him as we listened to the cicadas singing as the sun set.

“I look at you, and I can see it. In everyone else, it’s like this small ball of white light that flickers and flows through them. Your body is practically bursting with it. I thought a trimmer would help everyone when I heard what happened at breakfast. You needed something to keep the light contained until you made the plunge of trust. I thought we had time to figure out why your spark is so strong. I’m sorry, bro. I fucked up. I'm so sorry,” he said, tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes.

We sat in silence while I tried to take his words in.

“He said he would make me claim my birthright; what the fuck is that?”

“A prophecy was made after the gates closed. It said that the heir to the throne would open the gates and unite the worlds.”

I waited for him to continue.

“So gonna explain what any of that means or?”

“I have to keep some secrets. You aren't a full brother, and I gotta protect them.”

I wanted to scream at him, ask him how he protected them by keeping information from me, but I knew that's not how war works. Some stuff I couldn't know. At least not yet.

“Ok, why don't you tell me what you thought I was before today.”

“It's not uncommon for an Umbrian to take the identity of one of their victims, impersonate them, and use that as cover until they age out of the identity or the heat gets too high. We thought your dad was in this situation.”

“Can we not call him my dad? Just call him Jackson or something; dude doesn't deserve to be called dad.”

“You ain't wrong on that. The guy is a monster.”

We sat in silent agreement for a few minutes.

“I know Ryan gave you just regular water. You aren't at risk of forgetting.”

“So what now?”

“That's for you to decide. You know about the threat; you know what you are facing. But you are one of the few who has survived without the light.”

“So, even knowing everything I know, you would let me walk away?”

“Yes. It would hurt a lot, but if that's truly what you think you should do, then I wouldn't stop you. No repercussions.”

“And if I go fulfill my birthright?”

“Then you resign every flame keeper to death, including your pledge brothers, assuming the prophecy is real.”

“You aren't sure?”

“Yesterday, I would have punched someone for questioning it. I also would have punched someone for saying that the son of an Umbrian would have a spark, especially one as strong as yours. Like you said, you changed the calculus.”

We stood silently for a few minutes until we saw Kevin walking up.

“I'll make you a deal. I gotta make a supply run tomorrow. Ride with me; Auntie Cass should be able to help us unfuck some of this.”

“Who’s Auntie Cass?”

“She’s our Auntie who harnesses the mountain dew,” He said with a wink.

I gave a knowing chuckle, “I'll think about it.”

Teo’s smile evaporated as I answered. He looked like he wanted to say more, but Kevin was getting closer. He seemed not to want to fight with me in front of him as defeat started to spread across his face. He just nodded and made his way to the door, shoulders uncharacteristically slumped. I needed a fucking cigarette.

I lit one as I leaned on the hood of my car, cicadas still screaming in the background. Kevin was pacing in large circles, looking lost in thought. I watched him for a few minutes as he got closer and farther away, seemingly arguing with himself at each end.

“You ok, Kev?” I asked him as he got closer.

“No.” He said before he could catch himself.

He remained frozen, facing away from me in the middle of the street as I continued to smoke.

“You wanna talk it through with someone other than yourself?”

“Why, so that you can yell at me like you did that first day?”

“More like so we can help each other like we did on the mountain.”

His shoulders visibly relaxed at that. He finally turned around, showing me his tear-streaked face. I waved him over, and he walked slowly and stiffly over as if his joints suddenly stopped working. He leaned next to me and stared at my arm, eyes locked on the bright new scar.

“It doesn't hurt anymore,” I said, smashing the filter into the pavement.

How are you so calm about that? One of those things stabbed you!”

“Didn’t use a knife, though,” I said, trying to hide my rage.

“I was so fucking scared. I wanted to run out of there so bad. Track and Jer convinced me to stay. But I was shaking. I'm not a soldier; I'm just a guy.”

I put my arm around him. I looked at my watch; we still had about 30 minutes till the deadline.

“You remember on the mountain when I couldn't see?”

“Yeah,” he asked questioningly as he wiped his eyes.

“I thought we were all about to die. There I was with seven other guys. It was clear I didn't know from the previous trial. You know, the one where you were the only bright spot.”

“Yeah.” He said a little more firmly.

“You figured it out and guided us to safety. Only you could do that, and you succeeded.”

“You talked me through that.” He said, still unsure of himself.

“So? Track and Jer talked you through the laundromat. It's okay not to know stuff as long as you try.” I said, realizing I wasn't just talking about Kevin anymore.

“Ok. So why are you out here?” He asked, regaining his confidence.

Why was I out here? Teo was trying; he admitted he fucked up, and he was going to try and make whatever happened right. Ryan was batting for me, not giving me whatever he gave the other pledges. Track was inside, probably nervous, wondering if I would follow him.

“Does this have to do with why you missed lunch?”

“It does, but I'm trying to wrap my head around it.”

“Is it why you stood there and let that guy thing stab your arm?”

“Yeah.”

We stood in silence for a few minutes.

“Can I ask you something personal?” He asked

“Shoot.”

“Do you regret joining the military?”

“Not at all,” I answered quickly.

“Even knowing it hurt you?”

“Even knowing it hurt me.”

“Did they take care of you after you got hurt?”

“Not really. I've slept in my car for a few weeks trying to find housing.” I said honestly, still a bit ashamed.

“So, this is better than the actual military. No DPT member graduates without some hookup, either grad school or some awesome career. It’s like every one of them is successful.”

“Yeah, it seems so,” I said, feeling like he was trying to twist my arm and go inside.

“Should be an easy choice for you then. You already put your life on the line and got crap for it. This should be a piece of cake.”

I wanted to throttle the little shit. The worst part was that he wasn't wrong, but some stupid part of me wanted to hold onto that rage even when it made no sense, almost especially when it made no sense.

“You know part of me is one of them,” I said flatly.

“Is that why you are more sensitive?”

“Who said I was more sensitive?” I asked

“Tyler and Nick, earlier today, they said you were more sensitive to something, so you wouldn't help clean up all the camping gear.”

“Those dicks,” I said, shaking my head.

“It makes sense. Is that why you are mad at Teo? They gave you something that makes you unable to do the stuff with the light accidentally, but it meant you couldn't pull up armor when you needed it.”

“You pay way too much attention not to be able to read a map,” I said, shaking my head.

“Probably.” He said, kicking his shoes on the ground.

“So you going inside?”

“I don't know,” I answered honestly.

“Didn't you just say it's okay not to know things? I’m guessing they didn't know your dad was one of those things, so they didn't know how you would react, so they just did what they normally did. Then when things went haywire, they realized how bad they fucked up.”

“How the fuck do you know this?” I asked him.

“Just looking at the pattern. Track said your dad was one of those things, but I didn't connect all the dots till you said it.”

I just stared at him, a bit shocked.

“Sorry if I overstepped,” he said, staring at his shoes, “but I'm going to go in. At the risk of overstepping again, I get why you're mad, but it would be stupid not to go in with me. You aren't stupid…”

Kevin was right. I could almost hear LT saying the exact same words as Kevin, the same lecture about letting my feelings get in the way of something logical. I could listen to my own voice, letting my emotions get in the way of the best thing in my life with Becker.

My phone chimed with a text from LT: “What the fuck are you doing?”

Kevin was still talking. It was all almost too much. This part of me wanted to stand in front of a crashing wave to spite it.

“Ok, fine,” I said, cutting Kevin off.

“So we have our big bro?” He asked as his face lit up.

“Yes, you got your bro, for fucks sake.”

“What?” He asked, grinning as we started to make our way to the door.

“You just had to make me feel stupid, didn't you.”

“I specifically said you weren't stupid,” he said as he opened the door.