The Ex

by Margaret Ferguson

  I shook my head as I made my way through the opening where the wall used to be, and into the women’s restroom, checking each stall to assure there were no more victims. I stepped on something soft, and when I moved my boot, found a bloodied finger with a ring on it. I squatted, lifting the digit carefully. I thought of those who had sifted through the rubble of the Twin Towers after they fell, and all the horrific things they must have found. What they had seen. I retrieved the jewelry and slid it into my pocket.

  When I walked back into the men’s restroom, I went to what was left of the man in the corner. I searched his hands for rings but found none. However, from his neck hung a molten, mangled piece of metal. When I looked closer, I realized it was his dog tags, blackened and partially melted. I took a deep breath before lifting them from his chest. Maybe someone would be able to decipher something. I didn’t even try. I slid them into my pocket also before standing and quickly exiting the room.

  When I arrived back in the dining room, I looked outside. There were more responders than had been there before. Police had been joined by firefighters and more EMS, all standing around staring and processing and devising their next move. All standing around waiting for those inside to make theirs.

  Immediately, I walked to Arnold. I got no nearer than I had before when he lowered his rifle, aiming it at me. I harbored no presumption that he would treat me differently, considering all that had just transpired. Though, I’m sure it wasn’t lost on him that I was still here and hadn’t stolen away when I had the chance. I glanced at the counter, and his eyes followed mine to the computer. I looked around for Leon, and suddenly, for a brief moment, I was fearful that he had escaped.

  A moment later, he peered from behind the bar. As he looked around, he spied Marichaelle and rushed to her side, kissing her and her wounds.

  “Where were you?” she exclaimed, trying to extricate herself from his grip. He continued to pull her to him. “No, No. Uh-uh, you coward. You were hiding while I was sitting here, bleeding!”

  “Baby, I’m sorry,” he pleaded. “I was terrified something happened to you, but I couldn’t see through the smoke.”

  “No way,” she turned her head, spurning his attention. ”Uh, uh.”

  Leon suddenly began to cry. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

  Marichaelle turned back to him, her face softening. “Oh, honey,” she whined. “Don’t cry. I’m okay, see?” She showed him her bandaged hands then hugged and kissed him. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”

  I closed my eyes, listening to her diatribe. What was I thinking? I would be just as elated as he if I had made it out. I dropped my head, feeling guilty and selfish for wanting him to still be here to finish what he had started. When I opened my eyes, I found Arnold staring at me.

  I looked down at the young couple hugging and kissing each other’s wounds. “Leon,” I said, interrupting their reunion. “I think it’s time we made a movie.”

  Chapter 25

  Arnold watched, curiously, as Leon worked quickly to prepare for the broadcast, his fingers moving diligently over the keys as he did a little background research on Instagram live and Facebook live, to assure he reached a limitless audience. Marichaelle, still unbound, worked through her phone to look up recommendations and to prepare her blog readers for the earthshattering announcement she was about to make to the world. However, when AJ caught her texting her mom, he took her phone away before she could send the message and had Corbin re-cuff her—to a flurry of expletives, and no little effort.

  Mary Beth immediately began preparing the most seriously injured to be moved. At the same time, Corbin and I—under AJ’s watchful eye—gathered the remaining tablecloths, and an eight-foot table from the breakroom to double as a gurney, as needed. Every time we lifted the table, the stupid legs would pop out, so Corbin and I kicked them and pulled until we ripped them from their hinges. And, since we were out of gauze pads, I grabbed armfuls of paper towels, just in case.

  AJ had become more anxious since blowing up the bathroom. And much more cautious, it seemed, of me. I could feel him watching me constantly. Not that it wasn’t a smart thing to do since my ultimate goal was to disarm them both and free the hostages, no matter how that might look. But, I felt like he was looking at me in the same way I was him—like he was working out in his mind how to dispose of me. And, since I didn’t want to get shot in the back when I least expected it, I tried to keep him in my sights at all times.

  Once we arrived back in the dining room, Mary Beth directed us. She had gathered table numbers from the rubble, placing one by each victim to help us identify the order in which to remove them. The one who needed the most immediate attention was the young soldier who had just celebrated a birthday. His pulse was weak, but he was hanging on. We carefully rolled him to his side, so that we could place the linen under his back, making it easier to slide him onto the table. Once we had him on it, Corbin and I lifted him, while Mary Beth walked by our sides, holding the boy’s hand, praying over him. AJ stood around a corner, his rifle on us the entire time.

  When we arrived at the window, Arnold yelled, “That’s far enough!”

  Immediately, we were met by three men and a woman in uniform, rolling a gurney to the perimeter. The men wearing the jackets with three-letter acronyms told us to take a few steps back. Carefully, they inspected the stretcher and the patient, to assure neither was booby-trapped. When they were sure it was safe, they motioned for the medics who quickly, gently, slid the tablecloth from our makeshift stretcher to theirs, assuring the soldier wasn’t jolted and jerked around. Instantly, they whisked him away to the open doors of a nearby ambulance. Moments later, they were on their way to a hospital.

  And there we stood. Inches from freedom. I looked first at Corbin, and then Mary Beth as first responders nearby vocally encouraged us to come out. I could see in Corbin’s eyes that he wanted to leave. And, honestly, no one would blame the guy if he made a run for it. Then, we looked at one another, and whether out of our sense of conviction or sense of obligation to those remaining, one by one, we turned and went back inside.

  When we passed AJ, I could see his disappointment that I was still there, then felt it in the rifle muzzle as it prompted me in my ribs to walk faster. I resisted the urge to grab it from his arms and beat him with it, since his father was still there, and he was as unpredictable as his son.

  Mary Beth led us immediately to the next most serious patient, the woman I found almost an hour ago who was in shock. She had a weak pulse, and I was concerned that she wouldn’t make it much longer. We moved her, much in the same way that we’d moved the boy, though she was a little heavier, making the walk through the rubble a little trickier. We navigated, while Mary Beth prayed over her, then we handed her off to the medics and returned for more.

  This time, on our trip back, Corbin and I cleared our path as best as we could so that we didn’t trip on things we couldn’t see while carrying a table through what used to be a restaurant. The smell of smoke clung to every piece of furniture, every cloth we handled, even to our clothing. Though we could breathe, it felt like all we were breathing in was smoke. And though the air was clear, it was evident that many of the hostages were also dealing with their own set of breathing issues.

  On our fifth trip to the front, we were running out of tablecloths again, so I asked for fresh linens, oxygen for those with respiratory issues, and more medical supplies, including burn pads. They looked at us with confusion. They all stammered until one of them remarked that they would have to call in for permission.

  And, I blew a gasket. “I don’t care what it takes, or who you have to talk to, but the next time you see me, you’d better have what we need. Or what happens in there,” I pointed furiously behind me, “is on you.” Then, my angry finger wagged at them.

  When we turned to leave, Mary Beth turned to me. “There’s that sparkling personality again.”

  I nudged her with my shoulder as we returned for the next victim. Seven more uncon
scious individuals needed moving, three of them soldiers. The rest of the injured were awake and alert, though some would still need assistance to walk. There had been no conversation about how many would be leaving, nor did we ask. We would simply get out as many as possible before we were interrupted.

  Our next patient, injured in the initial assault on the building, had a head injury that Mary Beth had tended. Mary Beth’s concerns led us to find a way to brace her neck in the move. We took our time sliding her to the table. Gently, carefully, moving the woman so as not to exacerbate any injuries she had to her head and neck.

  AJ was quickly becoming frustrated, getting more annoyed with every hostage they were giving up. “Hurry up,” he barked when he perceived we were taking longer than he felt necessary.

  “Stay out of my way, AJ,” I growled.

  “Why do you insist on trying to get under his skin?” Mary Beth quipped.

  “You know, he’s just looking for an excuse to shoot you,” Corbin interjected.

  I stared into AJ’s wild eyes as we passed him by, and he glared back with as much hatred as he could muster. And then, I did the unexpected. I shot him a smarmy f*** you smile. Call it stupidity, or maybe even arrogance, but what I saw in his eyes at that moment was telling. He wasn’t in this for the same reason as his father, who was trying to make some kind of moral statement. No, AJ was in this because he was angry and wanted to hurt someone.

  We arrived at the window not just to a bevy of EMS, but a small crowd of first responders, including the man with the dark sunglasses. And, though I couldn’t be sure, I believe he was staring at—me. I ignored him as we carefully transported the next victim. When she was safely on a gurney, Corbin and Mary Beth turned to leave, while I stood waiting, expectantly.

  We stared at one another until finally, impatiently, I spoke up. “Where’s the stuff I asked for?”

  Sunglasses continued walking, until AJ yelled from behind me. “That’s far enough. Everyone back up, now!”

  Sunglasses took another two steps toward me, brazenly ignoring the orders. Or maybe he was testing the waters. He stood, arms crossed, just three yards away.

  “Eddie!” AJ hollered. “Get back inside now!”

  Slowly, Sunglasses removed his, er, uh, sunglasses. “Eddie,” the man repeated.

  Now it was I who crossed my arms.

  “Chief Foster,” he smiled. “Nice to finally meet you.”

  I gave him a short, almost imperceptible nod.

  “Eddie,” Foster began. “Seems you’re asking for more supplies. That wasn’t the deal.”

  “You wanted hostages, we’re giving you hostages, but we can’t move them without more sheets.”

  “We’re giving you hostages?” he queried.

  I exhaled loudly, more than mildly annoyed by the delay. “They are giving you hostages,” I clarified. “We are carrying them to you. Is that better? Now can we get those sheets?”

  “Eddie!” AJ hollered.

  “I’m getting more supplies,” I snapped.

  “My my—you and AJ seem to have a little rift going on here,” the chief observed.

  “You’d be a little ticked, too, if someone had a gun in your face all day,” I rebutted.

  “You sure that’s all this is?”

  I looked at him, stupefied. “Look, you can shrink me when we get out. But, right now people are in dire need of medical attention in there. And instead of giving us—me,” I reiterated, “what’s needed to help them, you are giving me crap.” I looked around, noting a gurney with sheets, a fresh medical kit, and five oxygen tanks resting on it maybe thirty feet away. I looked back at Foster. When he didn’t budge, I raised my eyebrows and tilted my head expectantly.

  “Eddie!” AJ hollered. “You have ten seconds to get inside.”

  Foster stared at me for at least four of those ten seconds. Then without taking his eyes from mine, he said flatly, “Give the man what he asked for.”

  Quickly, two DPS officers rolled the gurney with the equipment forward. When they realized that I didn’t have any way of carrying the supplies, they helped me lift the stretcher over the metal window frame and into the restaurant. I pulled the gurney inside, carefully maneuvering around debris still in my path. When I looked up, Foster was still staring at me—studying me. When he caught my gaze, he nodded upward, put on his sunglasses and then turned and casually strode away.

  Chapter 26

  Twelve unconscious prisoners were now liberated. Next, we began tending to those that were awake but immobile, preparing to move them.

  “They can stay,” Arnold called out from his perch by the bar.

  “But—” Mary Beth began.

  “He said, no one else leaves,” AJ reiterated loudly.

  I could hear rumblings from those bound at the back of the room. There were maybe another seven with broken limbs or severe cuts that needed tending. Another dozen had smaller cuts and burns. The condemned wore their disappointment like a mask. We had passed around the oxygen to pretty much anyone who needed it. Since I hadn’t seen anyone else after the fire, I had to assume the rest had escaped using the smoke as a screen. So, unless I missed someone, there were thirty-six of us still in the restaurant, two of the thirty-six, holding guns.

  Mary Beth and Corbin moved the remaining injured closer to the rest of the hostages, per Arnold’s instructions. Once we were in a tight little community, Arnold instructed us to hand out beverages. Since they couldn’t hold their drinks, he had Corbin cut their restraints and allowed them to choose from the soda and water selections we found in the bar cooler. A couple of them asked for a shot of something stronger, though Arnold quickly nixed the request.

  We were all getting pretty fidgety at this point, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Leon had prepared the different Facebook, Instagram, and YouTube accounts for the video that he would be shooting of Arnold talking to the American people, and possibly, the world. The longer he worked, the more excited he became about how far his reach might be.

  “I’ll bet we’ll get over a million views within ten minutes,” he announced as he neared the end of his preparation.

  Arnold seemed taken aback. I could see it in his eyes. He couldn’t believe this was actually about to happen. He was about to have his chance to tell the world what he perceived our government had done and was still doing to veterans. Though his execution of it was twisted and immoral, on so many levels. Leon had pulled videos and clips from the internet on homeless veterans, and others, including widows and children of those that had been affected by Agent Orange so that he could present a more sympathetic picture of their plight. The speed and professionalism at which he worked were impressive.

  The hostages relocated, I walked nearer to Arnold, assuming my old position about three yards from him against the wall. Mary Beth sat with the burned women, holding their hands and comforting them. I watched her completely astounded.

  “She with you?” he asked curiously.

  “No.” I quickly looked away. “Never met her before today,” I lied.

  “Hmm,” he murmured. “She seems to like you.”

  “Really,” I said casually. “Hadn’t noticed.” Intent on changing the subject, I turned to Arnold. “So. What now?”

  “We wait for them to contact us,” he replied.

  “At which point they make another excuse and ask for more time,” I suggested.

  He nodded.

  “So,” I tried again, “After you broadcast your message. What then?”

  “You mean, do you get to go free?” Arnold asked, eyebrows raised.

  Slowly I nodded. “Yeah. After you’ve told the world what the VA has done—is doing, what happens?

  Arnold looked around, his eyes stopping on each hostage as he contemplated.

  It was at that moment that I realized he hadn’t even thought that far. I’m sure he probably expected to be dead by now. Which meant he had no clue as to what would happen next.

  “I guess we all walk out of h
ere,” he finally answered.

  “Just like that?”

  Arnold continued to look around; then his eyes fell upon me again. “Just like that.”

  “And AJ?” I asked.

  “What about AJ?” When I didn’t respond, he continued. “AJ will do whatever I tell him to do.”

  “You sure about that?”

  Arnold turned his attention to his son, who had become more anxious since the fire. Even more on edge since the transfer of the injured prisoners.

  When AJ saw his dad looking his direction, he expectantly began walking toward us.

  “How ya’ doin’, son?” Arnold asked.

  “I don’t understand why we’re still waiting.” AJ was beyond frustrated. “You said they would give us a TV crew, but they keep making excuses.”

  “That’s why we’re going to make our own little presentation. So, we can say everything we want to say and air it for the world to see. Right, Leon?”

  Leon looked down from his perch at the counter, where he was carefully producing what would surely bring him notoriety for as long as he lived, which would hopefully be to a ripe old age. He nodded. “I’ve just about finished. Now, all we have to do is video you.”

  “I thought it was supposed to be live,” Arnold exclaimed, suddenly.

  Leon backtracked. “Yes, it will be. But we’re going to video the feed, as well, to assure that we can keep sending it out, posting on multiple platforms, to assure it gets more views. Passing it on, so to speak. The more places we post, the harder it will be to interrupt us, or attempt to, at least; the harder it will be to deny,” he explained. “First, we’ll do a short video, so that we know you are at ease talking into the camera. That way, you can practice what you want to say. Then, once we know you’re comfortable with speaking, we’ll go live.”