Chapter 27: Just Three in 1961

I fly into a seated position, my eyes adjusting to the light. I look around. The woods.

Cassidy lays, asleep a few feet from me and Max, a few feet from her. I look for Belle.

“Belle!” I shout, my voice echoing through the woods, “Belle! Belle! Belle! Belle, where are you?” My feet take me across the forest. I run through trees and bushes and back to where Max and Cass sleep. I shout her name one last time. My knees give out and I fall onto the dirt of the wooded area.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Max’s voice says. I look up to him; he just stares at me. He grips my shoulders, holding me steady. “Breathe, with me,” he says, taking a deep breath. I do the same, matching my breath with the rhythm of his. After several moments of breathing, he pauses.

“Cass is going to wake up any second now,” he whispers, “You need to get it together, for her.” I glance over at her. She still lays asleep, calm, quiet. I nod at him and stand up. “Okay, bring it in,” he finally says. I give him a hug. Maybe he’s the first man I’ve ever hugged, and something tells me that Max can say the same. He pats my back and pulls away, just as I notice Cassidy starts to move.

Max and I both walk over to Cassidy. Watery tears already fill her eyes just seconds after waking up. I sit down in front of her. She stares at me for a moment.

“Is she gone?” she asks, her voice cracking. I reach up to touch her face.

“She is,” I whisper. A whimper escapes her lips. I pull her back towards me. She falls on top of me, sobbing into my chest. I rub her back, but her cries only re-invite my own to come out.

In between sobs, I’m able to make out her cries, “This is fault. We should’ve known better than to mess with the missions. Belle’s blood is on hands.”

“Cassidy, we’re doing what needs to be done. Fuck the Congressionalists,” I mutter. She sobs one more giant scream before quietly weeping into my chest.

—-

I’m not really sure how much time passed. I think I fell asleep. Cassidy lays on top of me, her eyes closed, asleep. Max paces back and forth, holding the letter.

“Where are we?” I whisper, trying to keep Cassidy at peace. Her right fist grips my shirt tightly. He shakes his head and looks at the paper.

“It’s 1961. We’re, um, doing the thing with the vaccinations,” Max says.

I stare at the sky for a moment.

Max clears his throat, “How are we going to do this, Elliot?” I glance down at Cass, who still sleeps peacefully, on my chest. I need her brain. But, she’s asleep on my chest… On my chest, where my heart is rapidly beating. Suddenly, I recall the conversation Cassidy and I had right before the nap.

I never turned the recorder off. I reach my now shaking hand into my pocket. I throw it on the ground next to me, which peaks Max’s interest. After a deep breath, I carefully slide Cassidy off of my chest. To my frustration, she wakes up.

“Hey,” she mutters. I rub her back, with suspicion from Max radiating behind me. I stand up, grab the recorder from the ground and chuck it, as hard as I can, against a nearby tree. Max gasps. Cassidy stares.

I walk over to the tree, ignoring their confusion and look at the recorder. Despite a couple of busted buttons, it generally remains intact. So, I do what any other man would and kick it as hard as I possibly can. The soles of my boots do more damage than expected, pieces of it flying everywhere. For good measure, I stomp the remainder of it into the ground. Huffing, I finally gain the bravery to look back at Cassidy and Max.

“Hey, man, what the fuck?” Max says, baffled. I glance at Cassidy, who stares mostly at my boots. I ignore Max’s question.

Cassidy glances over at him, then to me, “We screwed up earlier. Didn’t we?” I nod slowly at her. Max eyes me, waiting for a further explanation. Cassidy explains for me, “I think I was distraught and said something about how we were purposely fudging the missions. And, Elliot said ’F The Congressionalists.”

Max scoffs, giving me a dirty look. But then, he finally laughs, “At least we don’t have to watch what we say anymore. Jesus, that sucked.” His laughter prompts a small smile in Cassidy, which contagiously spreads to me. He asks some questions about the recorders, “So, are they being monitored as things happen?”

I shake my head, “To my understanding, they are only being checked after every jump, but honestly, I don’t know how that works. They should never hear what we said, but I’m guessing that they’ll know something is wrong.” Max nods, but doesn’t reply. “So, what’re we doing?” I ask, sighing. Cassidy leans against her legs, which are curled up in front of her. Her bored expression offers no ideas.

Max offers one, though, “What do we think the trigger is?” I glance at the box of syringes, resting on the ground next to him. I lean down and grab one of the syringes. Holding it up to the light, I look into the barrel. Just under the rubber stopper, the seal, I see what appears to be a button. Nifty.

“There’s buttons on these. So, honestly, if we just inject them all, we should be fine,” I explain. Max and Cassidy decide that we should just release them all into the soil. But, upon trying to inject one syringe, we realize that they are smart syringes, designed only to inject into human flesh. Cassidy volunteers herself, but Max and I absolutely refuse this idea.

“Better idea,” Max says, “We find a Congressionalist.”

Revenge sparks in Cassidy’s eyes. Within seconds, she is on her feet, orienting herself. She glances back, just once at us and takes off running as fast as she can. Max looks at me.

“Well, we better follow her,” I say, jumping into a comfortable run. I follow the blur of blue fabric, dodging trees as she does. Abruptly, she stops. I nearly trip over my own feet, but come to a stop as well. She just looks over at me, silently. Max jogs up a second later, panting.

“You ok?” I ask. She looks apprehensively at Max. I glance in his direction, almost expecting someone or something to be lurking behind him. He stands there, alone, confused.

“Cass?” Max pipes in. She doesn’t reply to either of us. Instead, blankly staring off into space. I approach her slowly, but her eyes don’t move to watch me. Max repeatedly looks over his shoulder, spooked by the unknown that haunts Cassidy. I reach over and gently touch her arm.

She recoils, jumps backwards and screams loud enough for the entire forest to hear. I take a step back and look at Max.

“What’s happening?” he asks.

I sigh, “I think she’s having some sort of flashback. I’ve heard about it from others, but I haven’t seen it before.”

“Like PTSD?” Max asks. I nod.

I don’t attempt to touch her again. If she is having a flashback, that only makes it worse.

“Cassidy. This is Elliot. You’re okay now. You’re here with me and Max. No one can hurt you,” I say, warmly, slowly. She doesn’t reply for a while.

At last, she appears to orient herself, breaking the stare.

“Cass?” Max mutters. She runs her hands over her face and finally glances around us. I cautiously approach her.

I meet her gaze, she scans my face. I bite my lip, “Hey, hey, what’s going on?”

She furrows her brow and looks over by Max, then back at me, “I don’t know.”

“What did you see?” I ask her. She blushes a bit, embarrassed of her fluster.

Her lips part, “Talk about it later?”

Max sighes, “Cassidy, we can help you. We’re all this together.” I see a crack of smile from her, despite shaken eyes.

“Sounds like high school musical,” she mumbles, still barely smiling, “What are we, the wildcats?” I make eye contact with her.

“We are The Prior,” I mutter. Max laughs, which continues to cheer Cass up.

He glances at me irritated, “You didn’t have to make it cheesy,” he groans. I roll my eyes at him, but Cassidy laughs.

“That’s what they called us!” I stammer at Max.

Max tilts his head and looks at me, “No, you just made that up.”

“I did not!” I exclaim defensively, my mouth creeping into a smile.

The tears on her face dry, Cassidy giggles and says, “Uh huh, sure, Elliot” quite sarcastically. I take the picking.

And, we continue onto the town. Max doesn’t bother her or I with questions, but purposefully watches Cassidy through the day. From her pocket, Cassidy pulls out the paper from Bonnie and Clyde. She suggests that we find the Congressionalists that way. I fear that they no longer use telegraphs, but opt not to share this thought. Max carries the cass of needles. Over a hundred of them.

“Do you think we can send telegrams at the post office? There is one right there,” Max suggests. I glance over at the quaint building.

Cass nods and starts walking towards the building, gripping the page. Her feet move at rapid speed, I intentionally have to speed up the pace to catch up with her. She ducks into the building, her circle skirt flowing in the change in air staleness. The stuffy room makes my skin instantly damp.

“Can we send telegraphs here?” she asks, breathlessly. The clerk glances over at me, but nods. I take the paper from Cassidy. I scribble an additional message in addition to the Bonnie and Clyde note.

He looks at the paper, “45 cents.”

I freeze. I don’t have any money. Cassidy, though, pulls a handful of change out of her pocket. I squint, but don’t dare to ask where it came from. The man nods and sends the telegraph.

“Where’d you get the money?” I ask her, once we walk back outside.

“You missed her pickpocketing the sheriff?” Max chuckles. She just smiles.

I raise an eyebrow, “You’re quite bold.”

“Worked, didn’t it?” she says, smirking. I find myself smiling too, her light jokes settling my heart. We wander to the town hall steps, which are sparren, at least for the moment. Max opens his bag and pulls out a syringe.

Cassidy steps over to him, nearly touching him, peering at the capped needle. She raises an eyebrow, “You know how to give a shot?”

He nods, “I was a pharmacy technician in college. Use to give flu shots all the time.”

“So the only reason why you’re here,” I tease, feeling the need to fill Belle’s role. He gives me a side eye and glances towards a group of men approaching us. Cassidy wipes her hands on her skirt, leaving an ever so slight damp spot.

The first man approaches us, a card of some sort in his hand. Once I realize that he’s intending it give it to me, I take it from him. The business card details his Congressionalist status. The top is inscribed with that symbol.

Below it, is a signature of someone that I can only imagine must be incredibly important. I nod at the card and hand it back to the man. He tucks it into the pocket of his suit. I gesture towards Max and take the next man’s Congressionalist card. Max asks the man to take off his suit jacket, then he administers the vaccine. I notice a gentle shaking of his hand as he administers the vaccine. But, as each vaccine is administered, his shakiness decreases. Cassidy stands across from a group of men who question her. But, she’s as cool as a cucumber.

I watch as Max empties the container of vaccinations. 50 left. 20 left. 10 left. 5 left. 2 left. The crowd slows, 2 left. I start to get nervous, as Max releases his most recent “patient” and I don’t have any more to send his way.

Cassidy shakes her head, “Come on. Two more.” Minutes go by, the square gets quieter. Max anxiously taps the syringe on the palm of his hand. Cassidy analyzes the other in the light, looking for something.

Finally, the sheriff reappears. The blood drains from Max’s face, but Cassidy remains unphased. I greet him and he inquires about our telegraph.

“Yes, we’ve just been given the most update flu vaccination for a rare strain coming from Mexico! We only were given a limited number of doses, so… yeah,” I stumble.

He nods and pats his arm quite aggressively. I don’t bother checking his card, and instead, just send him down to Max. Cassidy walks closer to me, her blonde hair blowing in the wind.

“One,” she whispers.

I nod, silently beside her. I peer into the square ahead of me. Cool breeze floats through the evening air. Beyond a few schoolchildren and workers, the square is empty of flu candidates. Max appears beside me. I glance over at him. He wraps his fist around the vaccination. Silence sets in. My stomach begins to fill with anxiety. I breath in through my nose, the feeling of butterflies rich in my stomach. Cassidy leans into me. Her left arm wraps around mine. She leans her head onto my bicep, squeezing my arm with her hands. I look over to her. A smile creeps onto my face as I realize that she’s doing this because she can. Not because we’re pretending that we’re husband and wife, per usual. She actually wants to.

I attempt to avoid focusing on it. But, I’m so consciously aware of her touch. My heart flutters with every second. God it feels so good to have someone. I almost forget what we’re doing in the square.

A older woman approaches us. At her side, a briefcase. I snap out of my Cassidy trance. I greet her, but she appears confused.

“Sorry, do I know you?” she inquires. I freeze for a second. Max does too.

“No, I don’t think so,” I mutter. Her face turns into a smirk.

“I do know ya. Blanche. Blanche Barrow,” she says. My brain scatters, unrecognizing of the name or her face. Cassidy, still holding onto my arm, squeezes tightly. I glance over to her.

“Of the Barrow Gang?” she murmurs.

Blanche nods and laughs, “Now, what the hell are you doing in Boston?”

Max grips the vaccination, “Actually, we joined that group you recommended, the Congressionalists.” Blanche raises an eyebrow, but remains silent.

Cassidy steps in, “They got us doing other work now that we’re too well-known out west for crime. And, too old to outrun the cops.”

“Way back when, I was a doctor’s aide. So, they asked me to give this new flu vaccine they developed. You gotten it yet?” Max adds. I’m thankful for their input here.

Blanche shakes her head, “I ain’t.”

“Interested then?” Max presses.

She squints, “I ain’t know if I can trust ya. You know two days after you showed up, Bonnie and Clyde died? I’m getting to be an old woman now. I ain’t in this life of crime any longer. I gotta son now, a husband too.”

I nod, “I get that Blanche. I wouldn’t want you to get your son infected, you know, without the vaccination. But, I understand wanting to be careful.”

She glances between the three of us, the only ones standing near here.

“How come I ain’t heard of no new flu?”

“It’s in China right now, but they’re saying all those immigrants in California are going to bring it here,” Max pipes in. This is going much better than expected.

Blanche rolls her eyes, “Of course they are.”

Max offers a silent invitation, holding up the syringe.

“Oh, what the hell,” she gives in, at last.

He takes her back, closer to the City Hall, where his briefcase of supplies lies. She pushes up her sleeve, as Cassidy and I watch inconspicuously. Max swabs her arm with alcohol before injecting the vaccination. He applies a slice of cotton and some tape; I realize now that Band-Aids don’t exist yet.

Blanche thanks him, trotting away towards the direction she came.

“I thought she was going to kill us,” Cassidy mumbles.

“Me too.”