Chapter 1- Life in a Shed

We left the lawyer's office in silence. Mom kept glancing my way, her face hesitant and worried. Each time she began to speak she ended up closing her mouth. My sister, Cecelia, was quiet, but more because her eyes were glued to her phone. She only glanced up enough to walk in the right direction, but mostly, to keep from falling on her face.

As for me, my hands were trembling. The instructions in the will, didn’t make any sense. The house and land were my mother’s as was a large bank account sufficient to provide her with a stable income for the rest of her life. There was only a single condition.

Her oldest male relative by blood or oath had to move into the shed behind the house. It was a peculiar turn of phrase and an even odder request. My father had died six months ago. If we had come here two years ago when Uncle Dan had died, he would have been the man required to fulfill this request.

Now there was only me. I was my mother’s oldest living relative. After me, there was only my sister. Knowing my mom, she might have walked away from the lawyer’s office without agreeing to the terms. It was college tuition that was the killer, though.

I’d taken last year off school since dad died. We were all sorta wrecked. But Cece was almost ready to start college, and she was far too smart to not go to the best school she could. For that, mom was ready to swallow her pride. Even then, it was only because I immediately agreed to the terms that she went along with it.

I’d already completed two years at a junior college and needed to move on if I was going to finish my degree. Cecelia was supposed to start college this year, too. Tuition for a kid even at a state school was out of reach, for two, it was laughable.

That was what had finally pulled mom out of the stupor she’d been in since dad died. Not that I blamed her. They’d married when she was nineteen. He was the love of her life. I’d never been in love, never even had what I would consider a long-term girlfriend. What mom and dad had was something special. Especially when many of my friends' parents were divorced or on their second or third families. Yet… seeing the effect dad’s death had on mom, I wasn’t sure I even wanted to experience that kind of love. As a family, we were still struggling with the aftermath.

So when Uncle Dan’s lawyer had called, he’d done this each year on the memorial of Uncle Dan’s passing, I’d answered the call. When he said that there was an inheritance and it would make it possible to pay for our college tuition, mom had listened. Well… that was what got her to listen, but I insisted we needed this no matter what. I’d taken over helping mom make sure the bills were paid. I knew what I was talking about when I said our financial state was in tatters. There were still medical bills from dad, while mom still wasn’t ready to go back to work. We didn’t have much in the way of a choice. Damn cancer sucks, and the inheritance was a way out of the deep hole of debt we’d accumulated.

I’d even gotten a key to the locked shed. It was my inheritance from my uncle. What a kick in the head. The thick metal key had been handed to me wrapped up in a crumpled piece of paper. When I opened it to read it, all I got was:

“Welcome to the Multiverse. Good luck. They’re counting on you.”

Bizarro, I know, but my sister didn’t even get that much—not that she seemed to care. With it came the dead-eyed stare of the lawyer going over my uncle’s will with us. The terms stated his firm was literally going to check up on me and make sure that I was living in the shed. The trust fund my uncle had set up wouldn’t be made available to mom until I was situated in it. There was a further clause stating the firm would continue to monitor my living habits to ensure I kept to the letter of the word and remained in the shed. It was all a little creepy.

I still needed to get set up for the new university. The lawyer had made an initial payment to get Cecelia, and I registered, but we were going to have to pay the rest of the tuition, buy books and all that. I was planning to try to walk on to the cross-country team. Not as cool as football, but more my speed.

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I was a nerd through and through. Although, I took after dad in height and had at least a touch of my dad’s athletic ability. Oh, and I wasn’t the super smart build your own tech company and retire at twenty-five kinda nerd. I was more the D&D, VR gaming, LARPing on the weekend kinda nerd.

It didn’t help that at 6’3” and 172 lbs. The nickname—Scarecrow—had stuck throughout most of my high school career and on into the local junior college which I’d attended. Oh, well, at least I got a fresh start at a new college. Moving to claim my uncle’s home, in Illinois was a far cry from the various military bases where I’d grown up, but whatever mom needed. Besides, U of I wasn’t that bad of a school, and it was within a few minutes’ drive.

The car ride home was only twenty minutes, but it felt longer as my mind raced through the weird turn of events. I turned on the radio to try to fill the silence. It happened to be on a news channel. The broadcaster was talking about a story from somewhere in Europe which had caught the world’s attention.

“… the judge has ruled that a comprehensive psychological examination is necessary to determine if Emil Larsen is fit to stand trial. Larsen is charged with multiple felonies related to his rampage in Oslo’s government quarter, a section of the city which is named for the presence of multiple government buildings.

His attack results in millions of dollars’ worth of property damage as well as dozens of dead. He drew attention because as far as authorities have been able to determine, he didn’t use any weapons beyond his bare hands.”

That made me frown. Was the man on some type of crazy drug? How the hell did he manage to destroy buildings with his bare hands?

“Before the videos of the attack were taken down—they received hundreds of millions of views, showing him perform—what looks to be superhuman feats…”

“Can you turn that off, please?” mom asked.

I did it right away. I could hear the tension in her voice. We traveled in silence the rest of the way to our new home.

As mom turned the car onto the dirt road which led to the house, I said, “Don’t worry, mom. I’ll be moved in before dark tonight, and you can access the trust fund tomorrow.”

She sighed. “I just don’t know what Dan was thinking. He acted so weird the last few years of his life. He was always talking nonsense but would never see a doctor. I should have done more.”

Cece, my pet name for my sister, chimed in, “At least he was rich.”

“Don’t talk like that about the deceased. We should be respectful,” mom snapped, but Cece barely heard her.

When she brought the car to a stop, she said, “You know you don’t have to do this. If you want to go off to college, we’ll find a way, you just may have to wait a year.”

I shook my head. I wasn’t going to point out that going away to college wasn’t really an option. Debt collectors had scraped my parent’s savings apart like scavengers going after roadkill. I could get a job and work if I had to, but tuition prices were steep even for a state school.

Even with my grades landing me a limited scholarship, it wasn’t enough to pay room and board. So, I was stuck at home. This home just happened to come with a trust fund, free house, and some peace of mind for my mom. That was worth a great deal to me.

None of that mattered now. Dreams were easy to have with money. I missed my dad. He would have known what to do. Growing up, he always seemed larger than life. Cancer robbed him of that strength towards the end, but mom had digital videos of dad and our childhood stored away. A reminder of better days, and to cherish what I had. I’d do whatever it took to take care of mom and Cece and right now that meant moving my stuff into a garden shed.

I could only shake my head. Life really was stranger than fiction sometimes.

“Silas, you don’t have to…”

“Mom, not this again.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “The lawyer was clear. It's no big deal if I move into the shed. I’ll still be living at home. It’s only a couple hundred feet from the house.”

“I just mean…” mom replied, but her words trailed off into silence.

I nodded. We both knew what she meant. I appreciated the sentiment. She wasn’t a perfect mom, those kind of women belonged in tv sitcoms and make-believe, but she still wanted to take care of her kids. Dad’s death had broken her more than I had initially understood. It was my turn to take care of her, and in homage of dad, this was the easiest way to make it reality.

My dad’s last words to me were seared into my mind. Mom had fallen asleep in the chair next to his hospital bed. The stark smell of antiseptic barely covered the stench of death and dying. But dad, he knew what mom was like, and so he took advantage of her sleeping to tell me something he didn’t want her to hear.

I remembered the overhead lights, so white and sterile, and the beeping of the monitors as I leaned over his bed at his gesture. My dad, the man who used to be larger than life wheezed out a few words. “You’re the man of the house now.”

I remembered the bitter tears which had formed in my eyes. This was something unfair. His own body turned against him as the cancer ate him alive. It was a battle he couldn’t win no matter how many treatments we put him through.

In that moment, his eyes had more light than I’d seen in recent weeks. His skeletal thin hand grasped my arm. “Promise,” he managed to growl.

I nodded, but that wasn’t good enough. I felt his determination through his remaining strength, as he squeezed my arm. So, I said what any son would say, “I promise.”

He hadn’t died right that moment, but it was the last time I really saw him aware. He quickly became incoherent after that. The moment of relief I had seen on his face though… That was something else. For just an instant, all his pain had been wiped away, and I felt the burden of his trust settle over me.

Now I was shaking my head. Memories weren’t going to change this weird request. But in the end, it was a simple way to take care of my family. I might not have had my father’s military mindset, but one thing we both shared in common was, our word was our bond and as good as gold. I’d take care of them no matter what.