Shot Down

by Steven Sheiner

  “They’re fine. I just left them. They’re going to the dining hall for lunch. Simon, what is going on?”

  “Sara, listen to me. You need to come home, all three of you, right now. It’s not safe there. Go pack up. Do it now.”

  “Whoa, slow down. Tell me what happened. What’s going on?”

  I didn’t want to scare her, but she needed to know. I told her about the text message and the pictures of her and the boys. She gasped when I told her about the man in the mask.

  “He could still be there. Get the boys, pack up, and get out of there.”

  There was a long pause, though I couldn’t imagine she was considering any other option.

  “Simon, it’s the last week of camp. I can’t do that to the boys. They’ve got color war, awards ceremonies, the final banquet… It’s their favorite week of camp. They wait all summer for this week.”

  “Are you kidding? Sara, there’s a guy out there with a knife, and you’re talking about color war?! You guys are not safe, and you need to get out of there!”

  There was a short pause and, for a second, I thought we’d been disconnected.

  “Then why is he sending you pictures?” she asked. “If he was here to hurt us, wouldn’t he have done it already? Instead of wasting time taking pictures and sending them to you?”

  It wasn’t often that Sara was the logical one and I was the emotional one, but here we are. She had a point. The text did feel more like a threat than anything else, but that did nothing to calm my nerves. Being hundreds of miles away while someone threatened my family was hard to take.

  We went back and forth for a few minutes before we came up with a plan that we could both live with. I hoped. Sara would inform the camp administration that she saw a man with a knife lurking in the woods and that the police were already on the way. The cops would comb the woods, and their presence would almost certainly drive away the man in the mask and whoever was out there with him taking pictures. She would also have a quiet talk with a few of the male counselors and even throw some money their way to keep a constant watch over Jordan and Brock. No one would go anywhere alone.

  I wasn’t happy they were going to stay, but I trusted Sara and knew she would keep the boy safe. I could only hope the pictures were really just a threat and not a sign of things to come.

  She agreed to call me at least twice a day, no matter what. I needed to know they were okay or I’d be a nervous wreck. I also insisted she give my number to the counselors that would be looking over Jordan and Brock, along with explicit instructions to call me if anything at all seemed out of place.

  We hung up and I let my head fall back against the seat. My emotions were all mixed up. The relief at hearing her voice and knowing they were okay felt wonderful, like a warm blanket had been draped over me. But as I thought of the man with the knife, the warmth began to fade and a cold chill ran up my spine.

  “Trust me,” she’d said. And that’s all I could do. I had to accept the situation, and I vowed not to spend the next week in a constant state of worry. How I would accomplish that, I wasn’t quite sure.

  I owed William an explanation, but not now. I was exhausted from the emotional roller coaster I’d just been on and needed to be in the office this afternoon. There were only a few patients on the schedule, but we were still in full-on damage control since my arrest.

  I started the car and headed home for a quick bite and a change of clothes. I hoped this week would fly by and Sara and the boys would return to me, safe and sound.

  Chapter 58

  The days dragged and the week crept by. Sara kept her promise and we talked twice a day, sometimes more. The police had spent half a day searching the woods but found nothing. They assured Sara and the rest of the camp staff, that whoever had been there was gone. The cops must have been right because no one saw or heard anything or anyone after that.

  I breathed a sigh of relief every time she called. The boys were having a blast but as the week progressed, the sadness of camp ending began to creep in. The end of camp meant the school was coming, and that was the last place they wanted to be. I didn’t care. I just wanted them home.

  Whenever we hung up a sense of dread would creep in, but I shooed it away and focused on other things, trying to stay positive.

  I spent the week seeing the handful of patients that still trusted and believed in me, spending lots of time with Mandy, and keeping my appointments with Dr. Norris and William.

  I hadn’t run into Callie Ann at Dr. Norris’s office since our initial encounter when she pretended not to see me. In fact, I hadn’t seen another patient coming or going over the last several weeks. One thing I did notice was Dr. Norris’s heightened enthusiasm for my visits. I doubt she had many patients more interesting than what I was dealing with. She asked questions I found strange, and sometimes felt inappropriate, but in her office she was the professional and I was the patient, so I went with it.

  It was like she was getting her weekly soap opera fix when we talked. She wanted to know every detail of what was happening. She asked questions about William, Sara, my work, even Mandy. She’d stopped writing most of it down, instead soaking it up like a kid watching her favorite TV show. I almost expected her to sit down with a bowl of popcorn as I talked. It even seemed as though she took some degree of pleasure in my misery, although I convinced myself I was imaging that.

  Still, talking to her always made me feel better. Just having an outlet offered some relief, and I looked forward to our visits as much as she seemed to. I couldn’t, or wouldn’t, share with her like I did with Callie Ann, but it still felt good to get a lot of thoughts and feelings out.

  Talking to William was a whole other matter. I owed him an explanation, and when I told him about the text message and the pictures, he lost it.

  “Are you fucking kidding me, Simon?! Why didn’t you tell me right away?!”

  “It’s okay, William. They’re okay. I spoke to Sara this morning. We talk at least twice a day.”

  But he wasn’t hearing it. He mashed a button on his desk phone and barked into the intercom. “Get me Agent Stamper of the FBI, right now!”

  “I really don’t think—” I began.

  “You know, I can’t help you if you keep things from me, Simon. I need you to be one hundred percent forthright with me at all times.”

  If he only knew.

  I was about to reply when I heard, “Agent Stamper…” come from the speakerphone. William snatched the receiver from its resting place, pressed it to his ear, and unleashed a profanity-laden tirade on the FBI that I was sure Agent Stamper took well.

  When he was finished, it was exactly as I had predicted. The FBI said they’d “look into it,” likely with no real intention of doing much of anything. The call ended with William and Agent Stamper both telling each other to “go fuck yourself.”

  William seethed behind his desk, and I feared for the vein pulsating at his temple. He sat there for a few seconds before redirecting his attention back to me.

  “I don’t get you, Simon. You’re in a fucked up situation that seems to keep getting worse, you’re paying me a lot of money to help and protect you, and yet you continue to keep things from me, making it that much harder for me to do my job.”

  I sat quietly, not sure what to say that wouldn’t incite an aneurysm. I didn’t think he was expecting an answer anyway.

  “So someone is threatening your family, and you didn’t think that was worth mentioning?”

  “I’m here now, aren’t I? My first priority was making sure my family was safe.”

  “That was three fucking days ago, Simon!” he erupted. “Three days!” He held up three beefy fingers in my direction to emphasize his point. He kept them there for an uncomfortable moment, then slammed his palms to the desk in frustration and looked away.

  He took a few deep breaths to calm himself, then turn
ed back to look at me.

  “Now, is there anything else you’re not telling me?”

  Chapter 59

  Saturday morning, I woke up feeling excited and energized. It was the first time in a long time that I’d begun the day feeling anything other than tired, scared, and crotchety. I walked Mandy, took a quick shower, ate breakfast, grabbed a bottle of water, and was out the door. After eight excruciatingly long weeks, Sara and the boys were finally coming home. I hopped in the car, backed out of the garage, and headed to the airport. A smile spread across my face as I envisioned our reunion.

  I drove fast, my excitement powering the car forward. Ten minutes from the airport, I started thinking about where we’d have lunch when I saw the lights flashing in my rearview mirror.

  Shit.

  I had definitely been speeding and weaving around traffic, there was no arguing that. A few times since getting on the highway I’d looked down at the speedometer and noticed I was going eighty-five miles an hour. I slowed and pulled over to the side of the road. I put the car in park, turned off the engine, and fished my wallet out of my back pocket. I was gathering my driver’s license and insurance card when panic suddenly set in.

  Oh shit! I’m out on bail and I just got pulled over for speeding! Shit! What happens when you’re out on bail and you break the law?

  I hadn’t given a thought to such a scenario, but now my brain was freaking out. I didn’t know what was about to happen, but my heart raced and I began to sweat.

  The rap on the window startled me back to reality and a trooper with bulging muscles and a sizeable arm tattoo was gesturing for me to roll down the window. I did as he asked. He looked at me over his mirrored sunglasses, his body camera staring me in the face.

  “License, registration, and proof of insurance.”

  I handed them over without a word. The last thing I wanted was to give him a reason to do anything other than write me a ticket and let me go.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said, and returned to his police cruiser.

  Without any sudden movements, I lifted my cell phone from its resting spot and dialed William’s number. I placed the call on speaker so the trooper didn’t see me using the phone.

  The second the call connected, I blurted out, “William! I’m on my way to the airport to pick up Sara and the boys and I just got pulled over for speeding!”

  “Whoa, alert the media!” he said sarcastically.

  “William, I’m out on bail!”

  “Yes, thank you, I’m aware. And…?” he said, sounding almost bored.

  “What’s going to happen?! Am I going to be arrested?! The judge told me to keep my nose clean!”

  “Simon, relax. A traffic stop is not cause to revoke your bail. If anything, he’ll write you a ticket and send you on your way.”

  “Are you sure?!” The idea of having my bond revoked, and going back to jail until my court date was freaking me out. If I forfeited the bail money, Barry Poole might have a thing or two to say about that also.

  William made a noise that sounded something like “psssh” and hung up.

  I waited for what felt like hours before the trooper returned.

  “Dr. Spero, please get out the car.”

  Oh shit.

  “Is there a problem, officer?” I asked as I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the door. He just stared at me through his mirrored sunglasses.

  I stepped out, closed the door and stood awkwardly, not sure what was happening.

  The trooper took a step closer to me, and I noticed his uniform had no name tag. His body camera, plainly visible before, was now missing. Fear began to well up inside of me. He held my documents up in his left hand for a few long and uncomfortable seconds before he opened his hand and let my papers blow away in the wind.

  “Hey!” I shouted, instinctively, as I watched them fly down the road.

  “Oops,” he said, with the same sincerity a child has after drawing on the wall with a crayon. “You know, Dr. Spero, it’s too bad you didn’t comply.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, genuinely confused. “I’ve complied with everything you—”

  The punch hit me in the stomach so hard I doubled over. I grabbed my gut with both arms and gasped for breath. My eyes watered and my vision blurred from the impact. I never saw it coming. My mind raced as I tried to grasp what was happening. I felt his large hand on my shoulder as he pushed me back into a standing position. I was about ninety percent vertical when another crashing blow landed, this time to the left side of my face. I spun around, fell against my car, and grabbed on. It was the only thing that kept me from being face down on the pavement. My vision dimmed to a foggy gray as pain surged through my head. I saw stars before my eyes. My knees wobbled and I could feel blood running down my face. He grabbed my shoulder, twisted me around, and shoved me hard against the car, my shirt clutched in his fist. I knew it was coming, but it didn’t matter. His fist slammed into the left side of my head again, and this time I fell hard to the ground, my head striking the pavement roughly. As I lay there in a pool of my own blood, rapidly losing consciousness, I thought only of Sara and the boys, wishing I could see them one more time.

  Chapter 60

  There was a ringing in the distance that seemed to be getting closer. As I emerged from my blackout, it got louder. I opened my eyes and the sunlight stabbed at them like a thousand knives. My head pounded, my face ached, and I could taste my own blood. I didn’t know how long I’d been laying there, but apparently it was not long enough for anyone to stop to see if I was alive or dead.

  I rolled over onto my stomach and pushed myself up to my knees. The distant ringing had stopped, but the ringing in my ears and the jackhammer in my head weren’t letting up. I squeezed my eyes closed, took a breath, and tried to stand. I pulled myself up by the side mirror and leaned hard against the car. I stood there for a minute and tried to regain my balance when the loud ringing resumed.

  Opening the door was no small feat, but I managed to wiggle into the car and plop into the driver’s seat. The ringing persisted and I felt like my head was going to explode. I clutched at my phone and blindly began pressing buttons to make the ringing stop. I caught a glimpse of Sara’s face before the phone silenced and the screen went black.

  I put my head back against the rest, closed my eyes, and tried to focus on just breathing. My stomach hurt with each breath, but it was nothing compared to my face and head. It felt like my brain no longer fit in my skull. The silence lasted only a moment before the ringing returned, firing ice picks into my head. I grabbed my phone and again saw Sara on the caller ID.

  I really just wanted to stop the ringing, but I couldn’t keep ignoring her calls, so I pressed the accept button. What was I going to tell her?

  “Hello?” I said weakly.

  “Hey. We just landed. Are you here?”

  Shit. I didn’t know if I had a concussion or if the fog of being knocked out was still lifting, but since coming to, I’d completely forgotten where I was and what I was doing.

  “Almost,” I uttered. “On the way.”

  “You okay? You don’t sound right.”

  “Yep. See you soon,” I said, and hung up. We usually ended our calls with ‘I love you,’ but I was barely conscious. I doubted I would even remember that conversation an hour from now.

  I sat up in my seat and tried to compose myself. The skin on my face felt tight and I could still feel blood running down. Reluctantly, I lowered the visor over my head and looked in the mirror.

  Jesus.

  My left eye had swollen up and was beginning to close. The skin had taken on shades of red and purple, and blood ran down my face from an open cut. My forehead on the opposite side was scraped up nicely from where I’d fallen to the pavement and had dirt and gravel stuck to it.

  I reached across to the glove box and my head screamed from
the sudden movement. Everything was spinning. I remained still with my eyes closed until the wave of nausea passed. I grabbed a handful of napkins out of the glove box, poured some water on them, and dabbed at my wounds. I cleaned them as best I could, removing any visible dirt and gravel while trying to ignore the constant pounding in my head. There was nothing I could do about the blood on my shirt right now, so I focused on the cut near my eye. I held a dry napkin to it, and after a few minutes of applied pressure, the bleeding stopped.

  The reflection in the mirror was still horrifying, and I could only imagine how Sara would react. I took a long drink of water, buckled up and started the car. The sunlight was excruciating, my head was ready to explode, and my eye felt like it was going to pop out of its socket. I was in no shape to drive, but what choice did I have? Assuming I could still find it, the airport was only about ten minutes away.

  I took a deep breath, put the car in gear, and eased onto the highway. I stayed in the far right lane and drove much slower than the rest of the cars on the road. I held some wet napkins over my swollen eye as I drove, hoping for a miracle between now and arriving at the airport. It didn’t work. The real miracle was getting to the airport in one piece and parking in a crowded lot without hitting anything.

  Each step I took from the car to the terminal was more excruciating than the last. My legs felt heavy, and it was as though I’d forgotten how to walk. By the time I got to the automatic double doors, the cut near my eye had resumed bleeding from the exertion. I passed through the doors and headed for baggage claim. People were staring at me as they passed and, despite the persistent ringing in my ears, I could hear them whispering.

  Sara saw me from a distance, gave a wave, and smiled. She was standing near the baggage carousel with a few of the camp parents. I spotted Jordan and Brock off to the side chatting with friends. Sara must have noticed the awkwardness of my approach because her smile vanished. She started moving toward me and when she was close enough to see my face, she screamed, “Simon!”