by R.E. Rowe
Aimee rubs my hand. “That’s sweet.”
“The big guy has political plans. He wants to be Mayor someday, or maybe even Governor in ten years.”
“Wow.” Aimee smiles. “I’ve been meaning to ask you what you were doing the night before your big toilet repair.” She brushes the painting with orange. “Did it have something to do with chickens?”
I pick up a pencil and add some shading. “How’d you guess?” I stare blankly past the picture. “B-B-Q too. Freshened up the movie theatre maybe?”
Random thoughts suddenly play pinball with the neurons in my brain: Thomas was in love with Anna. How much Aimee resembles Anna.
“I saw your tag on the news.” She snorts and peers at me as if she’s solving a math problem. “You seem distracted today. What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing really. It’s just crazy that my great-great grandpa, Thomas, was in love with your great-great grandma, Anna. And it’s even crazier that his father’s land might have been stolen. It could end up being ours, you know.”
“Yeah, we’ll see. Mom still isn’t sure she can do anything about it.” Aimee shakes her head. “I doubt we’ll be very popular with the Isak Sarov Corp. when they find out about Wesley’s will—”
A nurse walks into the room and freshens up the pillows.
Aimee softens her voice and continues. “Which hospital did Wesley die in? Do you know?”
The nurse glances at Aimee as she fluffs a pillow.
I look at the nurse and clear my throat, then force a sarcastic grin until the nurse turns away. “My mom told me it was a place named County Hospital. It was somewhere in Franklinville. Must have gotten bulldozed a million years ago.”
The nurse suddenly acts as if she’s part of our conversation. “County Hospital? Oh child,” she says, still cleaning Aimee’s room. “Heard lots of stories about that place. Back in the 1890’s it was named County, home of the lunatics. Now the place goes by the name Willowgate Psychiatric Hospital.”
My stomach hits the floor. It can’t be. The place I hate the most in the world? The place where I’d been locked up? The place where Dr. Stewart reigns as mad doctor in charge?
I never want to see that hospital again. Ever. I’ll never go back. “I hate that place,” I mutter under my breath.
The nurse continues. “Isak Sarov the first built it.”
“Sarov?” Aimee asks.
“Built the asylum with his own money. It was one of the very first buildings in the township. Lots of conspiracy stories about that ’ole place. Folks say Sarov built it just to put people in it, anyone that got in his way. Built his fortune up by making people disappear.”
The nurse completes her tasks and heads for the door. She stops and turns back to face us. “Today the Isak Sarov Corporation controls it all. The first Sarov was a powerful man, and none too kind either. Now the family runs the corporation. I believe his youngest grandson is ’bout your age. Mean too. Full of spit and vinegar from what I hear, mostly spit I suppose.”
As the nurse leaves, she says, “If ya’ll need anything, push the button.”
I suddenly realize Theodore High’s drug dealer, Zeke Sarov, is related to the first Isak Sarov. Today Zeke’s father runs the Isak Sarov Corporation. Is he using his daddy’s influence as protection?
Then it hits me where the first Isak Sarov could have got all his land a hundred plus years ago.
Grandpa Wesley.
I focus on painting with watercolor while Reizo adds 3D effects in pencil. I’ve never known anyone so creative.
The nurses think we’re cute together. Occasionally we sneak a kiss, but Reizo has been almost the perfect gentleman. The last few days have been better than my best dream. Painting together on my hospital bed. Bringing blank paper to life.
Reizo’s voices have stressed him out a few times, but nothing over the top. He tells me when they get to him. But I can tell by the look on his face—sort of a cross between a brain freeze and a hard math problem.
To deal with it, he takes a break and walks through an old abandoned parking lot behind the hospital to get snacks at the minimart three blocks away. Reizo says he can yell back at the voices when he’s in the parking lot. It doesn’t make them stop, but he feels better just the same.
I wish I knew how to help him. I told Mom he needs to find a better doctor. She offered to help. I’m guessing she feels like she owes Reizo, now that he’s saved me twice. With any luck, she’ll help find him a doctor that can prescribe meds that won’t turn him into a creative zombie.
I dip my brush into pink and add petals to a rose while Reizo works on the stem in pencil. “My mom said she has news about the Last Will and Testament. She’ll stop by later to give us an update.”
“News? As in we own all of Franklinville?” Reizo shakes his head and chuckles. “Like that would ever happen.”
“Hey. You never know. Mom found some legal angle. She says they’ve confirmed the Isak Sarov Corporation illegally acquired the land from your Grandpa Wesley back in 1895. I guess Isak Sarov forged the paperwork and took it over after your Grandpa Wesley died. I told you my mom’s an awesome lawyer.”
“It runs in the family. Her daughter is pretty amazing too.”
Reizo’s breath smells of mint when he leans in and kisses me, sending chills racing across my shoulders. When his lips softly melt into mine, every nerve in my body comes alive. My weightless stomach floats out of my body. God I love his lips.
Reizo brushes my bangs with his fingertips.
It takes a second before I can speak. “What was that for?”
“I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“Me too.” After a moment, I say, “We really should tell our moms about the storm shelter, you know.”
“We will,” Reizo says. “Just give me a little time to go through it once more. Let’s wait until after your surgery, okay?”
Reizo suddenly does a double take towards the doorway. His face goes blank.
“Well hello, you two lovebirds.” Zeke Sarov saunters into the room, pushing black-framed glasses further up his nose. Two large football player-sized guys stroll in behind him. It takes a second, but I recognize both of them from school: football captain Jason and Josh the hulk.
I’m speechless. Reizo breaks the silence in an impressively deep and assertive tone. “What do you want?”
Zeke starts to laugh. He picks up Reizo’s plastic cup of water and sniffs it, then pours it on the bed near our feet.
“What in the hell?” Reizo jumps to his feet.
I reach for the nurse call button.
“Don’t move!” Zeke shouts. He lowers his voice. “I wouldn’t press it if I were you.”
Josh pushes Reizo back on the bed.
Zeke sneers at me. “Take your hand off the button. I’m not going to say it again.”
The disgusting hulk crosses his beefy arms. Captain Jason kicks the bed like he might actually damage the solid metal bed frame.
“Leave!” I scream.
Zeke’s face turns stone cold. “Keep your mouth shut. You hear me?”
“Or what?” Reizo asks, reaching again for the nurse call button in my hand. He’s way bigger than Zeke, but small compared to Josh.
“Or you’ll be sent to Willowgate in an hour. Reizo Rush, psycho kid, a danger to the hospital staff, a danger to himself. I can make it happen...” he says coldly as he snaps his fingers “just like that.”
When I notice he's wearing some kind of weird gold bracelet with glowing jewels, he covers it with his sleeve.
Reizo steps back.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“It’s simple,” Zeke says, looking at me as if his eyes have become laser sights. “Get that bitch mother of yours to back the hell off. Tell her the will is a total fake. So is the letter. You both tell her it was a joke. Just got out of hand, that’s all.”
“And why would we lie?” Reizo says. “To help you? Not a chance.”
> “Oh, let me count the ways. One: you, Rush, go to Willowgate and a nasty accident happens; two: Aimee, your uncle loses his ranch and gets run out of the state forever; three: your mom’s boyfriend Hank loses all his customers, maybe even gets flattened when he’s on the road hooking up a car to his lame tow truck; and last, but not least: Aimee’s mom gets disbarred in disgrace and has to clean toilets with Rush’s mom. How do those ways sound? Of course, that’s just off the top of my head. I’m sure I could think of other, more interesting ways, to destroy your lives.”
The blood has drained from Reizo’s face.
“Your grandfather was a murderer.” I grab my trembling right hand, trying to calm myself.
“Go to hell,” Reizo says to Zeke before I can.
Zeke throws the empty plastic cup across the room. “Have it your way, love birds.” He curls his fingers and thumb into a gun with his right hand and makes a motion to shoot me, then points his hand at Reizo, pretending to shoot him next. “You blew your chance.”
He lowers his voice into a growl as he stomps out the door. “People who get in our way, sort of just, um, disappear one way or another. It’s tradition.” He laughs. “You’ll see.”
Speechless and about to puke, I wipe sweat beads from Aimee’s forehead.
Bouncer is going nuts. “Go after him, dirt ball. Don’t take that from him.”
“The nerve,” says Honesti.
“Jerkwad,” says Bouncer.
“Did that just happen?” asks Aimee with a shaky voice.
I regain my composure and catch my breath. “You okay?”
She nods, holding her chest.
“Girlfriend’s in pain,” says Honesti.
I embrace her. “Try to relax.”
“Gross. I’m gonna barf,” says Bouncer. “You’re going to mess up girlfriend’s hair.”
A moment passes before I get off the bed.
Bouncer continues to rant and argues with Honesti.
I focus as hard as I can, pushing their noise into a corner of my mind until the voices are muffles.
“My heart is still racing,” says Aimee, working to catch her breath. “What do we do?”
I pick up the plastic cup. “We should tell your mom. She’ll know what to do.”
Two shadows suddenly fill the doorway.
“Run!” shouts Bouncer. “Bolt!”
I don’t move as two uniformed cops enter Aimee’s room, followed by a nurse and Steve Baxter.
“What’s going on?” asks Aimee.
A uniformed cop with short black hair, grayed at the temples, holds a pad of paper in his hand. He glares at me. “Young man, are you Reizo Rush?”
I frown at the cop, and then glance at a second clean-shaven cop with a bony jaw and steely eyes. He’s taller, thinner, and in way better shape than the older cop.
The second cop sips a tall coffee with a radio in his opposite hand. They’re both cool and confident, as if arresting teenagers was boring compared to running down actual murderers.
“Answer him, son,” the older cop says. “Are you Reizo Rush?”
“What do you want?” My voice squeaks like a rusty door hinge.
“Impressive,” Bouncer says. “That ought to scare them.”
“I’m afraid we have a warrant for your arrest,” the boney-jaw cop says, sipping his coffee. “An eye witness reported that you are responsible for the recent tagging across the city. Last one was the movie theatre. Our eyewitness says he knows you.”
Oh man. “Who?” My stomach sinks. “Was it Zeke Sarov?”
The cops glance at each other, but don’t respond. That tells me all I need to know. My heart takes off in a sprint before I have a chance to move.
I’m not going with them. No way in hell.
“So you’re the tagger, huh?” asks the nurse. “Impressive artwork, young man. The chickens on the old movie theatre are amazing. Your work really adds color to that old building. You’re very talented—”
The older cop clears his throat.
“You don’t need to say a word until you get a lawyer,” says Steve Baxter.
“Bolt.” says Bouncer.
Bouncer makes my eyes water, but I manage to ignore him as I think about what the hell I’m going to do. There aren’t many choices.
The steel-eyed cop reaches behind his back. From experience, I know he’s reaching for handcuffs. No doubt a Taser will be next.
“Reizo?” whispers Aimee, trying to get my attention.
Damned that Zeke, he’s not joking. I’m screwed. I have a terrible feeling. If I go with them, I’ll end up back at Willowgate. Not today, ass wipes.
I peer at Aimee’s strained face and know what I have to do. I nod my head toward the pond painting we’d been working on, trying to give her a hint about my plan.
Without a second thought, I make my move, shoving the cop’s coffee out of his hands and bolting out the door. At first it feels like I’m watching myself move in slow motion from outside of my body. I calculate every step in real-time and plan every move.
The bony-jawed cop will be the faster one. After I get out of the hospital, I’ll need to use all my shortcuts to outwit and out distance that cop. But before I worry about all of that, I need to get out of the hospital.
“Ah shit!” the cop yells.
I glance back over my shoulder and watch the two surprised cops stumble out of the doorway.
Steve mouths “Run!”
Thanks dude.
Both cops stumble over Steve.
“Get out of the way!”
I bolt to the fire exit and down the stairs.
A few seconds later, I burst into the lobby and slide behind the security desk and duck when I see two other cops pull up in front of the lobby in a patrol car with lights shining and sirens blaring. They have arrived way quicker than they should have. Zeke!
I wait for what feels like forever as they run past the desk and into the stairwell without noticing me. For a moment, I’m tempted to borrow the patrol car, but I don’t. I’d be way too easy to find if I stole it. Instead, I run out the back door of the hospital, sprinting past dumpsters and down side streets.
The crappy midday sun offers little cover, so I use my short cuts and the back alleys to give myself an advantage. If I can make it to the park, I can use the drainpipe as my getaway.
Sirens blare nearby.
When I finally reach the fifty-year old homes with weathered, rickety fences, I catapult myself over the first fence, collecting an arm full of splinters. I grunt when I land in a tuck-and-roll on hard brown grass.
“Get up wimp!” shouts Bouncer. “You best do better than that, boy!”
I get up and run faster, jumping over the next fence, then the next.
“Hurry, Reizo, hurry!” yells Honesti with panic in her voice. “Faster!”
“I’m trying,” I mutter, sucking air.
More sirens. Some are getting closer.
“Through the park!” yells Honesti. She let out a high-pitched scream.
“You’ll never make it!” shouts Bouncer. “Loser, loser, loser! Little baby is crawlin. He'll never be able to handle activation.”
“Ignore the jerk, Reiz!” shouts Honesti. “Keep on going!”
I keep running, covered in sweat, my chest rising and falling. I’m way too out of breath to yell back at them.
Quick calculation. Fifteen seconds to reach the storm drain or I’m screwed. I jump another fence, avoid the same barking dog I always do, and continue over a brick wall to the Main Street storm drain. Through the metal gate and into darkness, water splashes with each step I take.
Finally, I slow down to a jog and let my right hand touch the side of the storm drain to guide me forward in the darkness. Made it.
“Way to go, Reiz!” shouts Honesti. She lets out a series of hoots.
“Lucky. That’s all. You was lucky!” shouts Bouncer, who then makes a loud raspberry sound.
“I knew you could do it,”
says Honesti. “I’m glad you listened.”
Right, as if.
A small bag of clothes for emergencies is still duct-taped to the drain’s ceiling where I’d hid it previously. I take off my shirt and replace it with a t-shirt from the bag, then pull a light sweat jacket over the t-shirt. I change into sweat pants and push all my hair up under a ball cap.
I’ve instantly changed my look from cool tagger dude into jogger jock dude. The cops won’t be hunting for a cross-country runner.
I wait for about thirty-minutes before exiting the storm drain, and then check to make sure it’s clear.
All clear.
A minute later, I’m two blocks away, pretending I’m a jogger.
“Where you headed to?” asks Honesti.
“Probably highway to hell, I figure,” says Bouncer, acting bored as usual.
“Hey Reizo, where you going?” asks Honesti, her voice going higher.
I ignore them and continue jogging.
Sirens blare a few miles away in the opposite direction. To be safe, I take side streets until I reach the highway out of town. There’s no way I can go home. That’ll be the first place the cops will check.
No one knows about the storm shelter, except for Aimee. Staying inside it will buy me time until I can figure out what to do next.
I run as fast as I can to Murdock’s ranch.
chapter thirty-one
I can’t stop trembling. Tears running. Nose running. Reizo running.
I know why he ran. He knew they’d send him to Willowgate. He said he’d never go back to that place.
Zeke wasn’t bluffing.
We’re in big trouble.
Mom runs into my hospital room and over to my bed. “Aimee? Are you okay?”
A dry knot in my throat prevents me from speaking at first. I nod and hear myself sob.
Mom hugs me tight. “The nurse called.” She gently wipes my face. Now Mom is crying too. “I was so worried. So worried.” She clears her throat and searches my eyes. “Reizo ran from the police? Why in the world?”
I force his name out. “Zeke Sarov. He’s behind it.”
“The boy from your school? Isak Sarov’s son?” She raises her voice as if she’s just found a missing piece to a five-thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle. “The son of the man who runs the Isak Sarov Corp.?”
I force myself to speak. “He was here, Mom. He threatened us. He wanted us to say Wesley’s will and letter are forgeries. That we made up the entire story as a joke. Reizo told him to go to hell.”