Chapter 8

Thomas felt a wave of relief wash over him when a doctor finally showed up. The man, dressed all in black, had to make his way through the crowd to make it to the grieving woman beside the fountain. When he got to her, he asked her to please step back, to give him some room. She stepped back hesitantly, not wanting to leave his side even for a second.

The doctor put his ear to the man's chest. Right as his ear reached the man, the crowd was silent. Thomas could hear his own heart beating: slow, calm, steady.

After a while, the doctor lifted his head and looked the woman in the eyes. He slowly began to shake his head back and forth and then said to the woman, "I'm sorry." Before Thomas could see the woman's reaction, he turned toward Walker's house, pushing his way through the silent crowd. He could hear the woman screaming, glad he turned away before he could see her reaction.

He made his way to Walker's house, preparing a speech in his head to once and for all get his questions answered.

Who are the visitors?

Why did Garfield kill that man?

What is pizza?

He got closer to the door, ready to burst through and start interrogating Walker. At the last second, he decided to keep his cool. He got to the door and reached over to the window, tapping it with his knuckle. He couldn't see into the window, but he could hear footsteps coming from inside, making their way toward the door.

The door opened and Walker was looking right at him, Garfield nowhere in sight. "Mr. Walker, you have to explain..."

"I have to explain nothing, Thomas," he interrupted. "I will answer what I can," Thomas started asking a question, but before he could get a sound out, Walker started again, "Another time, Thomas. Mr. Garfield is unconscious. I cannot give you my full attention while also tending to him. Come back tomorrow."

Before Thomas had time to respond, Walker shut the door. He raised his hand to knock on the window again, but decided to admit defeat and make his way home. He had other plans to get his questions answered.

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Garfield woke up in a daze, the left side of his face throbbing in pain. He opened his eyes, taking a moment to compose himself and take in his surroundings. He was sitting in a leather chair next to a warm, crackling fireplace. Walker sat on the other side of the room, unaware that Garfield had regained consciousness. He was writing in his journal, and by the look on his face he was not happy with what he was writing.

"Chuck." Walker looked up from his book at Garfield without moving his head, "What happened?" Walker took off his glasses and thought for a moment.

"You tried to save that man." Garfield's eyes shot open, remembering the drowning man. "He was dying! Why did you stop me?" Garfield gripped the arms of the leather chair, his knuckles turning white. He felt dizzy with the sudden rush of adrenaline and decided to lean back in his chair.

"Joseph," Walker began as he put his journal down and made his way over to Garfield, "I am sick and tired of you guys coming here. Every time I have to cover for some f**k up that slips your mind." Walker leaned in closer to Garfield, lowering his voice, "Joseph, I have watched men die from choking. You will never understand what it truly means to see this through." He paused. "You will never set foot in Dawn again."

Walker stood back up, his eyes still staring directly at Garfield. "I'd be surprised if Weld even lets you work for him anymore." He turned around and went back to his chair, grabbing his journal and glasses and continued writing.

Garfield, dumbstruck, had absolutely nothing to say. He tried to save a man's life and was being scorned for it.

What a backwards f*****g world.

"You know what, Chuck?" Garfield looked up and waited for Walker to look at him. Once he got his attention he continued, "If that's what it truly takes to keep this...this circus going, then I want no part of it."

Walker laughed once, then continued writing in his journal. Garfield squinted his eyes, shocked that Walker laughed at him. "I'm sorry, Chuck. Did I say something that you find amusing?" Walker took his glasses off, knowing he wouldn't get a second to concentrate on writing.

"Have you ever had déjà vu, Joseph?" Garfield nodded hesitantly, not sure where he was going with the question. "You're not the first person to tell me that, and you will most certainly not be the last." Garfield could feel the tension in the room build, and his heart began to beat faster.

Chris. He's talking about Chris.

"What did you do to him?" In trying to mask the fear in his voice, he ended up making it worse. He hoped Walker didn't hear the quivering.

"Me, personally? I didn't do anything."

"You know what I mean. What happened to him?" With no definitive answers, most people assumed Chris was fired and relocated, but something in Walker's tone told him a different story. "You think he just walked out of here? You think he said, 'I'm done' and went home? Hmm?" Walker was getting more and more upset as each second passed, the veins in his neck enlarging.

"At least Chris had the decency to think before he spoke. You're more of an idiot than I thought." Garfield's mind began to wander, trying to figure out what people did after they left Dawn. Assuming they let me leave.

Garfield assumed that he would be working at Dawn for a long time, and the thought never occurred to him that he might get fired. He never bothered to ask himself what would happen if he got fired, and after hearing Walker's threats, he really did not want to find out.

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Samantha Conway was at home, cooking some chicken breast and a side of brussels sprouts. Her chicken was Thomas's favorite, and knowing Thomas's temper always rose when the visitors came, she thought she would do something nice for him.

Sam was shorter than Thomas, but not by much. Her short brown hair barely touched her shoulders, although just a few years earlier she had her hair down to her waist. She decided hair that long was more effort than it was worth so she cut it short. Thomas loved it that way, so she decided to keep it shorter.

Thomas came home, slowly making his way to the kitchen. Sam hoped the aroma of dinner would soothe him, but he seemed as distraught as ever.

"Hey, Tom." Sam smiled at him, happy to see him home. "Hi, Sam." He gave her a kiss on the cheek and made his way to the table and sat down.

"I'm making your favorite," Sam hoped it would make him happy, but instead saw Thomas force a smile out from behind his distress. "I can smell it. Thank you."

"Of course." She typically let this sort of thing blow over, letting Thomas hash everything out on his own. This is the worst she had ever seen him after a visitor.

"I'm doing it tonight, Sam. I can't wait any longer, this is driving me crazy."

"Thomas, please, just let it go. They're not doing any harm to anyone." Thomas had always talked about a plan he had been working on, to figure out where the visitors came from. He knew they came and left from Walker's house. He'd wait until they left his house and follow them; they always left in the dead of night. This time it seemed like Thomas was finally going to act on his plan.

"I can't just...sit around like everyone else, accepting something that I can't understand. I have to know, Sam. I have to."

"Okay, Thomas. Fine. I don't know why you can't let it go, but I'm not going to try to stop you anymore. Find out, then come back here and take care of your family." For the first time after a visitor came to Dawn, Thomas smiled. The thought of finally understanding something that no one else seemed to question brought him back to life. He nearly jumped out of his chair to hug Sam, whispering into her ear, "Thank you, thank you."

"When you come back, promise me you'll be finished talking about the visitors."

"I promise, Sam." Thomas backed up and looked Sam in the eyes and smiled. He stood there for a while before he turned around and made his way to the front door.

"Tom!" He turned around as he reached for the door, looking at Sam. "I love you. Be careful."

"I love you too, Sam." He opened the door and stepped out, slamming it in his eagerness to leave. Sam stood in the kitchen worrying about Thomas when she smelled the burning chicken. "S**t, oh s**t!" She grabbed a pail of water and threw it on the chicken, cooling off the pan and putting out the fire that sat below it. She rubbed her eyes, disappointed she burned a dinner that Thomas wouldn't even be eating.

Don't make me regret my decision, Tom. Come home safe.