The Golden Chair

by A J Fontenot

  “What are you going to do?” she repeated, taking a step back as she did.

  “All in due time,” Keeler said, continuing to advance on her.

  78

  Blow It

  Paul watched through his binoculars as two men moved carefully up to the warehouse door.

  One attached thin strips, which adhered to the edges of the door, around the hinges and the doorknob. The other attached wires and carefully walked it backward, each of them, all the while making sure to stay below the window line so that no one inside would see them.

  As those two men backed off, two more holding body shields crept up and stood on either side of the door. They each held automatic rifles and were prepared to rush the room as soon as the explosions opened the door.

  “On my mark,” Bill said into his radio.

  Paul watched through his binoculars, digging with his eyes into the clouded windows, trying to gain some understanding of what was happening inside.

  “Three…,” Bill said into the radio.

  The snipers were positioned on the front and back, to take down anyone who made a run for it. But that’s not what Paul was worried about…

  “Two…”

  In a case like this, he’d prefer nobody died, the risk was just too great. What mattered more was…

  “One…

  His mind stopped thinking. He watched. What happened next would be critical…

  “Blow it,” Bill said.

  79

  Friends

  BANG.

  A loud noise came from the door behind Erin.

  Keeler’s eyes flicked to the direction of the sound.

  And Erin, despite her every instinct telling her not to turn her back on Keeler, turned her head to do the same.

  The door, she saw, was standing open, and a figure filled the frame, silhouetted by the overhead lights outside. It was the same door she’d been crouched down next to when Keeler found her.

  He was dressed like Keeler and crossed the distance between the door and where Keeler stood, with military precision. Or ex-military, she figured. He walked up to Keeler, ignoring her completely. Up close she could see that he was nearly as broad as Keeler, though not as tall.

  “It’s done,” he said to Keeler.

  “Any trouble?” Keeler said.

  “No. Nothing that couldn’t be…handled,” he said, holding out a black radio.

  “Good,” Keeler said, taking the radio.

  He looked at Erin with a face somewhere between a scowl and a smile. Keeping his eyes on hers, he twisted the knob on the top of the radio, like he was putting on a show. Though, any significance was lost on Erin.

  The radio scratched and started spitting out voices.

  “We’ve finished the search,” it said.

  “Exits?” said a different voice.

  “No sign anyone’s been here recently,” the first voice responded.

  The man who’d delivered the radio, stood like a statue, feet apart, hands behind his back, not reacting to any of it.

  “Hear that?” Keeler said, still looking at Erin. “Your friends,” he nodded at the radio.

  My friends…, she thought.

  “Minus one,” he said, waving the radio and doing what looked like it was meant to be a smile.

  “Two, sir,” added the man who’d delivered the radio.

  “Two,” Keeler said, raising his eyebrows in mock surprise. “I guess it’s minus two friends.”

  Erin understood exactly what he was saying. But she couldn’t figure out who he was talking about.

  Keeler looked back at the man who’d delivered the radio. “Begin the exit protocol,” he said, all pretense of humor gone.

  “Sir,” the man nodded, promptly leaving.

  “You,” he said, turning back to Erin, “you’re coming with me. We need to go on a little…field trip.”

  He grabbed her under the arm with one hand, lifting her shoulder almost to her ear. He pulled out his pistol as he did and walked her to the door, taking her with him out of the warehouse.

  80

  Gone

  Paul held onto the strap above his head as the humvee came to a hard stop. Its headlights shone through the empty warehouse windows and reflecting back everywhere.

  A man in tactical gear walked out of the warehouse, shielding his eyes from the headlights. Another man stood outside against the wall, not looking at the new arrivals.

  Bill jumped out. Paul opened his door and stepped down.

  “No one’s been here,” the unit two leader said, shaking his head, as he walked up to Bill.

  Paul peeled off his vest. He looked over at Bill as he did.

  Bill turned but didn’t look at Paul. He didn’t get it yet. He was still looking, as if the men had just missed their target. He squeezed his radio and yelled something into it.

  “Bill,” Paul said, tired, “the intel was bad.”

  “They’re here,” Bill hissed.

  “They probably were,” Paul said, tossing his vest into the humvee. “Lennox is careful. He’s gone now, Bill. We missed him.”

  The men from unit three had come back from their perches, and walked up, long guns over their shoulders.

  Bill continued to bark orders. He was making plans to regroup, to reform.

  “Bill,” Paul said, standing close to him now, talking low so that the others couldn’t hear. “There’s more to this. We have another—”

  “No,” Bill snapped, “no, this is still here. This is still in play.”

  “Not,” Paul said calmly, “if your informant was lying.”

  Bill seemed to be considering this. He threw another quick glance at the scene. He looked at Paul, and then he closed his eyes.

  81

  Two Cats

  “You make a sound,” he said, pressing the short barrel of his gun into her ribs, “and I pull the trigger.” Erin and Keeler were outside, walking.

  Keeler held her close to him. His arm was thick and sweaty. The size of his upper arm was almost as big as her waist. It seemed almost effortless, the amount of force with which he held her close to him. Her body was forced to mold to his, while his gun continued to jab into her ribs.

  He twisted sharply, looking behind them. It hurt. Her body wasn’t made to move like this. He turned again and pressed himself flat against the wall, making her push up on the balls of her feet to relieve some of the pain from his hold on her.

  The night was in full force now. From where they were, the only light came from the port’s street lights. It was like walking through a small city. Except it was made of warehouses. And where they were, it was empty.

  Apparently satisfied, not staying still for more than a few seconds, they were moving again. She could hear his breath. Feel it, occasionally, rippling down her shirt. Each step seemed to be more dangerous than the one before it. Keeler was moving with purpose. But it was a frenzied purpose. There was blood in the water, and it was drawing him.

  “We’re just…,” he said to her as his head continued to dart around looking. Or maybe he was talking to himself, “…two little cats…” He was talking in a rhythmic, sing-song voice. “…moving through the moonlight…slinking through the shadows…”

  That picture, Keeler talking in a way that made him sound more unhinged than ever, scared Erin more than anything else she’d seen him do.

  “No one can see us…” he continued in that strange voice, “as long as we just…,” he stopped talking. The muscle in his arm flinched, squeezing her chest, causing her to wince. His arm was slick and specks of dirt were in his sweat.

  “Shh, shh, shhhh,” he said. But she hadn’t said anything. He wasn’t talking to her.

  They were at the edge of a building. Around the corner ahead of them was a large open area and another warehouse farther away. In the open area, near the other warehouse were a group of military men. She couldn’t tell from this distance who they represented, but they were white, so probably not Ghanaian. They were sta
nding next to several humvees, each with a tall, floppy antenna sticking up.

  Keeler hoisted Erin up, adjusting his position. She let out a small groan from the pain of the motion. The gun he was holding was now down lower, pushing into her kidneys, and the feeling was making her sick.

  She looked out across the space now, to the men Keeler had clearly come to see.

  “Your friends,” he said.

  Erin looked harder at the men standing, trying to recognize any...why he would, wait—

  It was… she looked harder, squinting to see from this distance. She didn’t know how, but…it was Paul. Paul was over there with those men. A feeling of warmth filled her. Hope was flooding her inside. And she knew this whole thing would pull up. Paul was here, and he could—

  Keeler tightened his arm painfully around her chest, as if he was reading her mind. He simultaneously pushed the gun further into her kidneys, causing her vision to momentarily go black with stars.

  “Verrry quiet,” he said.

  Erin looked at Paul again, forcing her eyes to focus again.

  She felt so helpless, so close to those men, but not able to do anything. A group of men that size —and she could see from here, they were armed, with guns — they were a clear match for Keeler and his other guy. If only they would…

  As those thoughts passed through her head, she saw the men moving. They were climbing into their vehicles. They were…driving away.

  Keeler let out a humph of satisfaction.

  And as she stared in disbelief at the red lights of the vehicles driving away, she heard Keeler say something.

  Her vision was jerked into the darkness as Keeler pulled her away. He’d turned back to where they’d come from, and she, forcefully, with him.

  For the first time since he’d taken her out on this ‘field trip,’ she began to struggle. Not a struggle from the pain. And not a struggle of hope, because she somehow thought Paul could help her…he clearly couldn’t. She didn’t know why she was fighting him now, why she was rallying her energy, whipping her body, trying to twist out of his grip. But she felt a fight deep inside of her, coming out now.

  And then, without warning, his large arm, that had tirelessly pinned her to him for the last half-hour, had simply let her go. And she was free.

  82

  Gillian Reed

  Erin dropped to her knees, partly from the surprise of Keeler letting her go, and partly because the muscles she normally used to keep her body vertical had begun to go numb from the way he’d been holding her.

  Keeler reached down, grabbing her under her arm with one of his hands and lifted her too high. She stood on her own, shakily.

  “Keep moving,” he said.

  The threat, she thought, must have passed. He’d seen what he came to see. And now, she wasn’t a risk to him. Though, she noticed, he still held his gun in his hand.

  “Walk,” he said.

  The walk back felt miles longer than when she’d done it moments ago. Maybe it was the adrenaline, again washing out of her system. Or maybe it was just her mind, slowly giving up, letting go of hope once and for all.

  As she walked, she realized Keeler was talking to her.

  “…I guess you didn’t know that,” she heard him say.

  She looked at him slowly, as they continued to walk. He was watching her as he talked.

  “…that I was there, too,” he said.

  “There…” she said.

  “Somalia. With the SEALs.”

  A pinch of his smugness flickered away when he said that. “Part of DEVGRU. Then.”

  This guy was a Navy SEAL? she thought. It makes sense…if Navy SEALs recruited psychos…

  “In the nineties,” he said, letting the words linger, “I was there.”

  She looked at him again. It was as if he’d tossed a cup of ice into her face.

  “And yeah,” his face crumpled in what was probably meant to be a smile, “I met your mother.”

  At that last word, Erin stopped walking. It was an involuntary motion on her part, as if it took all her concentration to process the words he’d said. That…he knew mom.

  Keeler stopped walking but continued to talk. He reached out a hand, casually, like he was picking up something he dropped, and he grabbed her behind her neck, shoving her forward.

  “Deployed at the time,” he said, “but I’d done a few jobs for Bren by that time. Always through Lennox,” he made a face that wasn’t a smile. “Lennox was there, but…”

  He interrupted himself with a bark, or a laugh. It was the kind of noise that was loud enough, that if there were anyone around, which there weren’t, they would have heard it.

  “But,” he continued, “it wasn’t that chickenshit Lennox who killed your mother.”

  Erin didn’t know what to think about what Keeler was saying. He was talking in a way that made her think he’d never told anyone these things before…or that no one else had cared to listen. As if she were somehow the first one who’d heard all of this.

  Despite that — despite how strange this entire exchange had been — she was listening completely.

  “What do mean?” she said.

  He seemed to like that he had her attention. That she was listening to him.

  “He never does that kind of stuff,” he said with a huff. “Doesn’t have the stomach for it.”

  His mouth opened like he was going to say something else, but he didn’t. “I do it…,” he said without emotion or pride or pain, “and I’m good at it.”

  He was walking again. And for the first time, he didn’t bother to force Erin. She walked on her own.

  As they walked, and as he talked, there was something else she was beginning to see in him. A quiet rage, something that had been waiting, patiently, behind all that other stuff. It wasn’t a soldier’s machismo. No, it was something else.

  He turned, locking his clear eyes onto hers.

  And then a new flash hit her.

  He wasn’t bragging. Talking about Lennox. About her mother. No, he was confessing.

  “You…,” she said slowly.

  She’d stopped walking again. And this time, he did, too. The two of them stood, looking at the other. Whatever pity had been forming in her mind around him was gone now.

  “You…did…,” she said, not able to finish the rest of it.

  “Yeah,” he said, finishing her unspoken accusation, “I did.” And with the kind of demonic pride, he said, “I was the one who killed your mother.”

  The words hit her like a hollow pipe.

  83

  One Down

  The lights from the windows blended into a swirl, a swirl that started channeling toward him. Squares, glowing and turning into a kind of vortex that seemed to be…looking for him, no…looking at him. They were moving toward him, toward his—

  No, that’s not right.

  He closed his eyes. Squeezed them until he saw stars.

  He opened them again. His breathing was shallow.

  Still not right… he thought. He rocked his head back, letting his close themselves.

  He’d been having these bizarre visions since…well, he couldn’t tell how long. Keeping time had been one of his many new challenges recently.

  The warehouse was empty except for Ben. Sometime earlier, after Keeler and Erin had left, he saw the tan-uniformed man, who apparently, on discovering his own new-found freedom, took his leave and slipped out the back. If only he could just stand up straight, Ben thought, now would have been a really good time to do the same thing. He could at least have followed Erin and Keeler and…

  The thought was cut short. His eyes darted to the front door as it opened again.

  Keeler was back. And Erin with him.

  Her features, though, were muted. He thought for a moment it might be more visions, but it wasn’t weird like that. It was just her, there. But something, he noticed, was…off.

  Keeler began walking Erin forward, to where Ben was.

  Ben rolled over on h
is knees, to stand up. But the pain put him back down.

  “Don’t get up for us,” Keeler said, as he walked past him.

  Ben lifted his finger above his head, though it hurt every inch of him to do it.

  Keeler kept walking, taking Erin with him, behind the wall of metal barrels. To where Marisol’s body was…

  Ben knew what that meant. He forced himself, pushing through the pain. He propped himself on all fours. A start, he thought. His head was swimming. And with each movement, the darkness that kept threatening to take him out cold kept flooding back into his vision. Slow…he thought to himself…steady…

  He raised his head, still on all fours, and he could see Keeler standing with his back to him. He saw him toss Erin down, and she landed on top of Marisol’s body. Erin let out a sound as she landed, either from the fall or just from being tossed on top of Marisol.

  Ben shifted, but his eyes started blacking out again, like when you’ve been lying down and stand up too fast. He forced himself to stay still, to let the blood move back in place. Given his condition, staying still wasn’t hard. In addition to fighting off the blackouts — which staying still helped with — every move he made was painful. He wasn’t sure the extent of the damage, but with each movement, he felt a lightning storm of pain in his torso.

  “Where are you going?” he heard Keeler say in a playful tone. He was still looking at Erin.

  Ben looked up, and he saw Erin scrambling away. It was as if she was trying to pick up Marisol’s body, or hide under her, or something.

  Ben pushed his eyes shut and began hoisting himself up. He was on one knee now, with a foot under him. That hurt. It was all he could do not to yell out, to give himself away.

  He looked at Keeler again. But he could only see Erin’s legs.