The Road To Deliverance

by James, Harper

  Now the time had come, she was so nervous she wished she’d broken her promise, hidden behind the faceless anonymity of the telephone. Her coffee cup shook as she lifted it to her mouth. Last time Jay saw her she had the remnants of a Margarita soaking into her blouse. She didn’t want coffee this time. Not that anyone would have noticed a drop of coffee on her clothes. When she came in, she’d thought they weren’t going to serve her. She had to show them the ten bucks the truck driver had given her before they relented.

  He was suddenly there. Standing at her table. She jumped. There must be a back door. She hadn’t seen him coming.

  ‘Hello Sarah.’

  He slid into the seat opposite her.

  ‘Hello Jay.’

  They stared at each other like a couple of tongue-tied teenagers. Luckily the waitress came over before it got awkward. Then it got awkward.

  ‘Looks like you two might as well skip the coffee.’

  She smiled and winked at Jay. He gave her an easy smile back and ordered. Sarah sipped her coffee to give herself a few seconds. She’d need a bucket of it to give her all the time she wanted. She tried to hold his eyes. It was too much for her. Not that there was any blame in them—that was all inside her. It always would be. The words stuck in her throat.

  Jay said it for her.

  ‘He’s dead.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Something died behind his eyes. She knew what it was. Of course she did, she’d killed it, after all. The last remnants of a hope he’d somehow kept alive for those long hours on the road. And she’d crushed the life out of it like a roach under her shoe.

  ‘I was too late.’ This more to himself than her.

  He slammed his fist into the table top, rattling her cup, slopping tepid coffee on the table. A few customers looked around, looked away quickly when they saw his face. She wished she could do the same.

  ‘No—’

  The waitress arrived with his coffee and a disapproving look, cutting her short. She shook her head. Glared at the mess on the table. I knew we shouldn’t have let you in. A cloth appeared in her hand from nowhere. She set to, mopping up the puddle of coffee, carefully lifting Sarah’s cup and drying it, putting it back down gently. Making a meal of it all.

  Finally, when the table was clean enough, she walked away. Sarah wanted to bounce the cup off the back of her head.

  The time for lies had arrived.

  ‘No. You weren’t too late.’

  Confusion clouded his face. She wanted to put her hand on his, comfort him. But hers wouldn’t move.

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  Her stomach clenched, the blood beating like tiny fists against her ears, as she re-lived that dreadful night. The worst night of her life. She opened her mouth to tell him the things she’d spent a dozen hours and eight hundred miles concocting.

  Because she couldn’t tell him how it happened. It would destroy him. She couldn’t tell him how Cole used the phone call as a diversion to make his move, the move that left him lying in the mud, blood seeping through his fingers. He’d blame himself forever.

  He misunderstood her hesitation. He put his hand over hers, swamping it, his fingers curling into her palm.

  ‘I know it’s hard.’

  She wanted to throw her head back, laugh out loud.

  Hard? It’s not hard at all. It’s the easiest lie I’ve ever told.

  ‘They made us kneel in front of them. They were going to shoot us. I was so scared. I remember thinking I don’t want to die, not like this.’

  He squeezed her hand gently. It only took her back to that night, Cole’s hand cold on her skin.

  ‘Then one of them got a phone call. Somebody called them off. You should have seen them. Suddenly they were more scared than us. We were safe.’

  She bit her lip, searched his eyes. Waited for the recognition and relief she was looking for. She couldn’t miss it when it came. He grew six inches in the chair.

  ‘I don’t know what got into Cole.’ She shook her head in frustration, gripped his fingers tightly. ‘It all happened so fast . . .’

  ‘It’s okay. Take your time.’

  She chewed the edge of her thumb, go for it, girl, give him the works.

  ‘They were walking away. It was all over. Then he attacked one of them for no reason. They . . .’

  She dropped her head, what was left of her hair falling over her face.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I don’t want to—’

  ‘Sarah. Tell me.’

  She looked up into his eyes, swallowed. She was playing around with the timing in her story, giving it a subtle spin. It didn’t make any of the events less real, less frightening.

  ‘Before they made me kneel in the dirt, I thought they were going to attack me. You know, rape me. It was pouring with rain. My blouse was soaked and torn, buttons missing. I was half naked. One of them tried to rip it off. I slapped him. He was going to hit me. The other one stopped him . . .’

  She was chewing her thumb for real now. Jay took her hand, put it on the other one, covered them both with his.

  ‘Take it easy.’

  ‘I think that’s why Cole attacked them. Because of what they did to me. They made some filthy remark as they walked away, laughing at me. I don’t remember what it was. It was disgusting. Whatever it was, Cole charged at them. A gun went off. Next thing I knew he was lying bleeding in my arms and they were gone. Then his phone started ringing. I couldn’t get to it in time.’

  ‘That was me.’

  He pulled his hands away from hers, ran them up through his hair. Angled his head towards the ceiling as if there was some relief up there mixed in with the grease and tobacco stains. When he dropped his eyes to meet hers, the pain in them made tears prick the back of hers. She forced herself not to look away from it.

  ‘Jesus Christ. And I’m supposed to be the impetuous one, the one who acts first, thinks later.’ He took her hand again, shook each word insistently into it. ‘It’s not your fault.’

  There was an awkward pause. As if what he was about to say was exactly that. Only for a heartbeat, but it was there nonetheless. And when he spoke, she was back in the rain and mud with Cole.

  ‘You left him there?’

  It wasn’t an accusation. Doesn’t make any difference when you’re already on a mission to punish yourself.

  ‘I didn’t want to. I begged him to come with me. He refused, said you’d understand.’

  ‘Yeah. Nobody ever made Cole do a thing he didn’t want to do.’

  He slammed the table, harder this time, made her jump. Her little white lie was forgotten. He was back to blaming himself.

  ‘None of that changes anything. It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t been so stupid, hadn’t—’

  ‘Jay!’

  The tone of her voice stopped him as surely as a slap across the face.

  ‘You don’t have to blame yourself. None of it made any difference anyway.’

  Chapter 40

  HIS MOUTH OPENED and closed a couple of times before anything came out.

  ‘Too late for an operation?’

  She nodded.

  ‘The day after you ripped off the drugs, the day before you were supposed to meet in the bar, he had an appointment at the hospital. They told him it was too late. It was inoperable.’

  ‘He was going to die anyway? Why didn’t he tell me?’

  ‘He was going to tell you when he met you. It’s not the sort of thing you tell someone over the phone.’

  He shook his head.

  ‘I suppose not. Why didn’t he at least tell me he had the appointment?’

  ‘Because he didn’t know you were planning on taking things into your own hands in such a dramatic way.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘Yep. That about sums it up. Or as Cole said, it’s a screwed-up ending to a screwed-up story.’

  ‘That sounds like him.’

  He looked down at the table top, stared straight through it. S
he gave him plenty of time to digest her words. She’d had the whole of the journey back to torture herself. He could have a few minutes.

  ‘It still doesn’t change—’

  She put a finger to his lips. Once more, the gesture took her straight back, the feel of Cole’s finger icy cold on her own lips.

  ‘He said he was happier this way. How did he put it?’

  Jay was already smiling, even before the words were out. She made an attempt at Cole’s accent, even if all she could remember was the strain in his voice, the way he tried to cover it up.

  ‘I don’t want to die in a hospital bed with tubes poking out of my ass and pretty nurses with big chests squeezed into starched uniforms cleaning up after me because I’m too weak to do it for myself, sad smiles hiding the pity in their eyes. Give me a bullet any day.’

  ‘Can’t argue with that,’ Jay said. ‘If I shut my eyes it could be him sitting there talking.’

  His eyes were shut. She didn’t mention it.

  ‘What about you? What they did to you.’

  He shrugged, no big deal. He was a man after all, couldn’t go around complaining how it hurt like a bitch. Not to the woman who’d almost died as a result of what he set in motion.

  ‘You want to see it?’

  She shuddered, the thought of it enough to bring the smell of burnt meat to her nose.

  ‘No thanks. I already have anyway. A picture’s good enough. Cole told me about those guys.’

  He kept his eyes on the table, not comfortable with talking about his past. His reluctance reminded her of Cole, the way he’d stopped her from asking about his military career.

  ‘He told me he was in the military.’

  She realized too late the implied criticism—unlike yourself who ran wild. He didn’t notice.

  ‘Yeah. Military Intelligence, whatever that means.’ He met her eyes, trying to work her out. ‘And I don’t know what he got up to either. If that’s what you were meaning. All I know is what it did to him. I don’t just mean the cancer either.’

  There was a bitterness in his voice that she hadn’t seen in Cole. She supposed it was often that way. The victim finds a measure of peace from somewhere inside themselves to ease their pain. Those left behind don’t.

  There was no point asking him what his last remark meant. Not unless she had no other use for the breath, or time weighed too heavily on her hands.

  ‘He gave me this.’

  She pulled the dog tag over her head, laid it on the table. He glanced at it, didn’t touch it.

  ‘I’ve never seen that before.’

  ‘He said I should keep it as a reminder of my road trip with him.’

  She knew damn well that wasn’t what he’d said.

  A reminder of your time on the road to deliverance.

  That’s what he’d said. And she wasn’t completely comfortable with the word or the idea of deliverance. It brought to mind other words. Redemption, salvation, rescue. And the implied question—from what? Was that how strangers saw her, people who were able to stand back for an impartial view? Like a woman in need of rescue from something? Or someone.

  ‘Then keep it.’

  ‘I was going to ask if you wanted to have it.’

  He shook his head.

  ‘I told you, I’ve never seen it before. There’s no emotional significance. It’s not even a genuine military dog tag.’

  She wanted to ask, how do you know, you’ve barely looked at it? She didn’t know what was at play here. Maybe it was a deliberate attempt to push everything away until the wounds were less raw. It wasn’t her job to rub salt into them. Most people manage to do that very well for themselves.

  She picked it up. Barely looked at it herself.

  What the situation needed was someone else there. The waitress would do, anyone, to shout at the pair of them.

  One of you look at it for Christ’s sake, see what’s under your noses.

  It didn’t happen. Things moved on, the seeds set for what would be a much bigger deal at some later date.

  ‘Put it back on,’ he said. ‘It suits you.’

  He may as well have told her to paint a rifle scope’s crosshairs on her back.

  She lifted the chain over her head, happy to do as he said if it helped get him out of the mood he’d slipped into. Trouble was, what she had to tell him next, about Gray Suit and his interest in the tag, would put him right back there.

  ‘Something strange happened—’

  Without warning he jumped up.

  ‘I need some fresh air.’

  Her mind did the translation.

  I need some space.

  ‘I’ll call you.’ He was already on his way to the door. ‘You still got Cole’s phone?’

  She nodded, told him to take as long as he needed.

  That was the last time she would ever see him—as the person she was back then.

  Chapter 41

  SHE COULDN’T GET Cole’s words out of her head.

  I’m not sure you’re going back to your husband.

  Who said you should pay more attention to a dying man’s words spoken as you sit beside him while he waits to die, that’s what she wanted to know?

  Nobody.

  Except when they echo your own thoughts.

  She wished the bastards hadn’t stolen her dad’s Zippo. It wasn’t just the sentimentality. It helped her think. Sometimes, as she recited the verse in her head, the answer to a thorny problem would suddenly present itself. She’d known it happen before she even got past the first We the unwilling. She was sure the neuroscientists could explain it to her in terms of neurons and synapses. All she cared about was it worked.

  And now it was gone.

  She hooked her thumb through the unfamiliar dog tag chain around her neck, tugged gently at it. A totally irrational thought went through her mind.

  Talk to me, Cole. Tell me what to do.

  ‘You okay, hon?’

  She startled, hadn’t seen the waitress approach. She stood with the coffee pot in her hand, a softer expression on her face than earlier when she wiped up the mess on the table. Sarah shook her head at the offer of a refill.

  ‘I’d feel like that too if a guy as good looking as him walked out on me.’ The waitress put a hand on her shoulder, gave a reassuring squeeze. ‘I’m sure it’ll all work out in the end.’

  Sarah got up to go. She’d had her fill of coffee. And of the small, pitying smiles thrown her way by the waitress whose own life could do with taking a look at if she was still waiting tables at her age.

  What to do?

  She knew what she should do. That was easy. With Jay leaving, it was all behind her now. She should use Cole’s phone to call Evan.

  So what was stopping her?

  She had it in her hand, all hot and sticky. She stepped between two parked cars to cross the street. Head full of Evan and Jay and Cole and how her life would never be the same again, whatever she did.

  Cole’s phone rang.

  Her heart lurched in her chest. Every time she answered this phone something bad happened. She was back on the road trip, back at the side of the road as Jacob pawed at her, back in the car as two guys pulled alongside, motioned for them to pull over, park on the shoulder so they could shoot them like dogs.

  What was it going to be now? It couldn’t be any worse.

  She never got to find out.

  Rubber squealed on asphalt. A horn blared.

  Her head snapped to the left, phone tumbling unanswered out of her fingers.

  The monstrous grill of a black SUV loomed over her, devouring her.

  She opened her mouth to scream, a sound like a wind howling in a tunnel coming from her throat.

  No, not now—

  The SUV’s fender caught her in the side. Batted her high into the air like a cat playing with a mouse.

  The scream erupted out of her gaping mouth. A high-pitch keening, melding with the screech of protesting tires and the hysterical shriek of the SUV’s horn.
Filling her head, beating against the inside of her skull, sucking the breath and life out of her.

  —not after everything that’s happened.

  She bounced on the hood. Head-butted the windshield.

  Glass shattered.

  Blood filled her eyes.

  Her body catapulted off the hood, twisted gracefully, lazily in the air—you almost expected to see the judges hold up their score boards—right into the path of the oncoming traffic.

  A big pickup truck nose-dived, swerved crazily, rocking from side to side. Its fender gave her butt a cheeky smack as it passed, mounted the sidewalk on its massive tires, plowed a swathe through the screaming, startled onlookers.

  She landed on her back.

  Whumpfh.

  Like an unwanted mattress thrown out of a top-floor window.

  The back of her head smacked into unforgiving asphalt, cold and hard, eyes losing focus.

  She lay still. A pathetic, crumpled heap of arms and legs and lost shoes in the middle of the road.

  Silence.

  As if the whole world held its breath, clocks stopped mid-tick, traffic sounds subdued, voices reduced to a stunned, respectful hush.

  Then everything went crazy.

  Pain.

  Pain everywhere. As if it was going to eat her alive, limb by limb.

  Her vision blurred, the sun bright in her eyes. Anxious faces hovered above her. Peering down into hers, huge and distorted. Voices filled with panic coming to her from somewhere a long way off.

  An indignant voice with a hint of fear behind it.

  ‘She never looked. Ran straight into the road. Playing with her damn phone. I didn’t have a chance.’

  ‘Is she okay?’

  ‘She never even looked.’

  Everybody had an opinion, something to say, wanted a closer look. Who knows what they might see, something to pep up an uneventful day? Nobody noticed the man pick up Cole’s phone, drop it in his pocket. As if he was nothing more than an opportunistic petty thief.

  ‘She’s not breathing.’

  ‘Try to stop the bleeding.’

  ‘Oh my God . . .’

  She was aware of a hand reaching for her. For her neck, the dog tag.

  ‘Hey! Leave that alone. Somebody hold that guy until the cops get here.’

  A scuffle, muffled threats. Rapid footsteps retreating.