Final Crossing (2014)

by Sean Rodman

  “Right,” I say. I push him forward again, still looking around for Mr. Blank.

  “Thank you. Thank you very much.I appreciate it.”

  “You appreciate it? That’s it?” Big O’s voice rises. “That’s what I get? You know what that guy would’ve done to you if I hadn’t shown up?”

  “I had a few ideas. None of them were nice,” I say. “And I was going to say thank you. I was just worried about Marissa.”

  “You appreciate it,” Big O mutters.

  “Next time, maybe I’ll let crazy man spend a little more time with you before I save your ass.”

  “I said, thank you.”

  “The least you can do is get me something to eat.” He points to a bank of vending machines at the end of the passenger section. “I dropped all my change trying to get Mr. Blank to look up at me. And I’m pretty hungry after saving you. Did I mention that you were just rescued by me?”

  “I said, thank you!”

  We stand in front of a glowing vending machine. I fish around in my pocket, eventually fumbling out some change.

  You’d think someone who can pick locks would be pretty coordinated, but somehow I manage to drop a quarter on the tile floor. As the ferry shifts in a big wave, the coin slides away and under the machine.

  “Damn.” I get down on my knees so I can look for the quarter. Gone. As I stand back up, I see something reflected in the shiny front of the vending machine. A familiar figure, a shadowy outline.

  Then it clicks.

  “That’s Mr. Blank,” I hiss at Big O. “He’s right behind us. Don’t turn around.”

  “Where?” Big O says and starts to look over his shoulder. I shove him so he’s facing the vending machine again. In the reflection on the glass, we watch the hazy image of Mr. Blank Final Crossing walk toward us, then turn left and head away. I can’t be sure, but I think there’s someone right beside him. Someone who looks like Marissa.

  Chapter Seven

  After a moment, I lean back and look down the corridor. It’s definitely her, accompanied by Mr. Blank. He has his arm over her shoulder. Not in a friendly way. They turn again and start down the stairs to the car deck.

  “Crap.” My stomach goes all cold and tight.

  “Guess she didn’t make it to the cops after all,” says Big O.

  “No kidding,” I say. I look down at my feet, thinking things through. It’s obvious what we need to do, but I don’t want to say it out loud.

  “You’re not going to like this,” I say finally. “But I think we need to get some help.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, tell the crew what’s going on. Call the cops ourselves.”

  Big O leans against the vending machine, shaking his head. “You know we can’t do that. I’m in the system. Maybe not right away, but at some point, someone is going to figure out who I am, see my record. That I was charged for assault. Then it’s all over.”

  “I’m clean. I could talk to the cops.Alone,” I say.

  Big O looks at me hard. “You mean, we split up.”

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  “After everything we’ve been through.”

  “Just for a little while, then we’d—”

  “For this girl, that, that—dammit!”

  He takes a step back and smacks his palm into the machine. Something jingles inside, and a chocolate bar thumps out of the bottom slot. We both look down, surprised. Big O is thrown for a moment. Then he says, “You can have that. I don’t want it.”

  “No, it’s all right. Thanks.”

  He turns to me. “Will, just take the damn chocolate bar.”

  I pick it up, split it in half and give him his piece.

  “Thanks,” Big O says. “You don’t even know what the deal is with her.”

  “Not the biker theory again.”

  “No, no. I agree with you on that— her shoes are too nice. She’s rich.”

  I’m about to interrupt, but he keeps going. “No, I just mean—you do this, then you give up family for a complete stranger. Pretty much the only family you have.” Big O punches me in the shoulder. “C’mon. Don’t leave me behind. No cops.”

  I wipe a sweaty hand over my face and check my watch. How long ago did they pass by us? I wonder how much time we have.

  “Okay, you’re right. We don’t go for help,” I say. Big O breaks into a huge smile. He reaches out to hug me, and I put a hand on his chest. “But that leaves one other option.”

  “What?”

  “We get her out. Just us. No cops.”

  Big O lifts his head up, spins around, walks over to a big window. I can’t see anything outside in the night, but there’s rain and spray tracking across the dark glass. After a minute he turns back to me.

  “Well, if that’s what it takes. If that’s what you want to do. We go get her.”

  My turn to smile.

  “But you’d better really, really appreciate it this time,” Big O says.

  Chapter Eight

  We head down the same stairs that Marissa and Mr. Blank used. I’m assuming he’s taken her back to the blue van and locked her up again. Hopefully, nothing more.

  “What’s the plan?” asks Big O as we step onto the car deck.

  “I’ve got a few ideas.”

  “That’s not very reassuring.” We crouch as we get closer to the van, then stop and watch from behind a red sports car. Truth is, I’m actually out of ideas.

  If this were a movie, it would be simple.

  We’d go in there, kick open the door and wrestle the bad guy to the ground.

  In reality, I’m pretty sure that would end badly for us. While I’m thinking, I see the driver’s door of the van open, and Mr. Blank steps out. He’s talking on a cell phone, one hand pressed against his other ear as he tries to listen. I can just make out what he’s saying.

  “Again? I can’t hear you—the reception is shit. What? I said I will be there at ten. Ten!”

  I scuttle forward to the next car so that I can hear him better.

  “So call them again, get them to agree. By ten.” He shakes his head. “Look, I’m just in charge of delivering her to you. Your job is the negotiation part.

  What? Everything is fine here—yeah, no real problems. No, I don’t—hello?

  Hello?” The man looks at the phone, swearing. He disappears into the van, then re-emerges with Marissa. I can’t hear what he says to her, but she looks terrified. The man puts his hand firmly on the back of her neck, and together they start walking toward the front of the ferry. He dials with his free hand, then listens. Moves with Marissa and tries again. Finally, he seems to get a clear signal and starts talking again.

  But he’s too far away for me to hear what he says. Anyway, it’s time for us to make our move.

  “Follow me,” I whisper to Big O.

  We slip around to the side of the van where Mr. Blank can’t see us. I kneel next to the front wheel, unscrew the cap on the inflation stem and press one of the tryout keys into it. There’s a hiss of air, and the tire gently flattens.

  “Ah, so now he can’t go anywhere. I get it.” Big O shifts from impressed to puzzled. “But wait—how does that help us?”

  “I’m not sure,” I say. “Just seemed like a good start.”

  “Excuse me.” It’s an officialsounding voice coming from behind us. Big O and I slowly stand up and turn around. It’s the same crew member from before—Dorkney. Dark-blue coveralls and a bright-orange traffic vest. “Everyone needs to be up above.”

  Then he sees the flat tire. “What’s going on?”

  “We were just checking this out,”

  I say. “Might cause a problem later on.”

  The crewman looks concerned.

  “Yeah, you’re right. We’ll be docking soon. You got a spare in there?”

  “Yes,” says Big O. “Nope,” I say.

  We need to get our stories straight.

  I forge ahead. “It’s not our van. We were just walking by when
we saw the flat.”

  Dorkney thinks this over, studying us. Then there’s a flash of recognition.

  “Didn’t I see the two of you earlier on?” he says.

  “Don’t think so,” I say, but Big O says at the same time, “Yeah, you did!”

  I wince.

  “We were just walking back to our car. Which is over…” Big O hesitates and looks around. I realize he has no idea where we were the first time Dorkney showed up. And it probably doesn’t matter—Dorkney is suspicious enough at this point.

  But just then Mr. Blank steps around the front of the van. Marissa is next to him. She sees me and her eyes widen. I have the goofy urge to smile and wave.

  “What’s going on?” asks Mr. Blank.

  His cold gaze shifts from Dorkney to Big O to me—and stops on me. I feel a little shaky.

  “You’ve got a flat,” says the crewman.

  “These guys spotted it.”

  “In fact, we wanted to help fix it,” says Big O. Uh-oh. Bad things happen when Big O improvises. But Dorkney seems to get into the spirit of things.

  “Actually, that might be helpful,”

  Dorkney says. “We’re short-staffed. Budget cuts. Just don’t tell anyone.”

  He turns to Mr. Blank. “Do you have a spare?”

  Mr. Blank looks unimpressed with all the offers of assistance. “I’m fine. I’ll take care of it myself.”

  But Big O is unstoppable. “There’s only an hour till we dock. We’d better get going.” He starts moving to the rear of the van. “Spare is in the back, right?”

  Dorkney, a little flustered, chooses to follow Big O, who starts rattling the rear door.

  Mr. Blank takes a couple of steps, as if he’s going to stop the two of them. Then he quickly turns back toward Marissa and me. Too late. I’ve already slipped around so that now I’m between him and the girl.

  Anger flickers across his face, and he lets his jacket hang open for a moment, revealing the dull gleam of the gun.

  “Sir? You mind opening the door? It’s locked.” It’s Dorkney again, popping around the corner of the van. I want to kiss that guy. Mr. Blank can’t pull anything nasty with a witness like him around. I think. I hope.

  “You know,” calls Big O from behind the van, “I think this back tire is looking soft.”

  “Really?” Dorkney says. He looks worried and disappears again to join Big O.

  “What? Just a second,” says Mr.

  Blank. He looks back at me and says quietly, “I don’t know what you’re doing. But you want to stop right now.”

  I try to appear innocent—a tough look for me. “I’m just trying to help out a stranger. You had a flat—”

  “Don’t bullshit me. I don’t know who you are or why you keep getting in my way. But it doesn’t matter.” He leans in close. His dark eyes bore into mine.

  “Let me give you some advice. You need to know your limits. I know my limits, and they are pretty far out there. Way beyond the normal range of most people.And that makes me very”—he punches a finger into my chest for emphasis—

  “very good at what I do. So back off and walk away.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, trust me—”

  “I’m not going to trust you,” says Mr. Blank. “I’m just going to hurt you Final Crossing if you do something stupid. Don’t do anything stupid. Walk away. The girl doesn’t concern you.”

  “Sir?” It’s Dorkney again. Mr. Blank jerks away from me, and the spell is broken. I can move again.

  “Sir, we really do need to get this fixed. Don’t want a traffic jam when we arrive, do we?” His laugh is somewhere between a snort and a honk. Mr. Blank takes a couple of steps toward him, snarling.

  “I get it! I know what the—” I don’t hear him finish, because Marissa and I are running across the deck toward the end of the ferry.

  Chapter Nine

  I’d like to say I ran because I was brave.

  Because I wanted to defy Mr. Blank and save Marissa. But in that moment, I just panicked. I wanted to get the hell away from that scary freak. I grabbed Marissa’s hand, and off we went.

  But we literally run out of room— pretty fast. The end of the car deck is partly open, with rain and spray coming Final Crossing in sideways out of the dark. I look back and see Mr. Blank stalking down the alley between the cars. The worst thing is that he’s not rushing. He knows we’re stuck. I can partly see Dorkney way behind him, lying flat out on the deck beside the van. Knocked out. Or worse.

  And Big O is nowhere to be seen.

  I put my hands on the metal gate that forms the edge of the deck. I can’t see anything out there with the rain and wind. No way to climb up or down.

  We can run between the cars if we go left or right. But Mr. Blank will see us, and at the narrow end of the ferry, there just isn’t a lot of maneuvering room.

  “He’s getting really close,” says Marissa.

  “I get that,” I say. “I do.” I keep scanning the deck, looking for a way out.

  Finally, I have an idea. I yank the tryout keys from my pocket and start working on the little compact car right next to us. I send up a silent prayer—

  please let me open this car on the first attempt. And it works. There’s a solid clunk as the lock disengages.

  Now Mr. Blank starts running at us.

  “In!” I open the door and shove Marissa inside, then clamber in behind her. Mr. Blank is right there, so close that he grabs the edge of the door frame, reaching in for me.

  That’s when I slam the door shut— as hard as I can.

  There’s a crunching sound as it closes.

  Then a muffled scream from Mr. Blank.

  “Go! GO!” I shout at Marissa, pushing her out the door on the other side of the car. I sneak a quick look back as we run toward a stairwell. Mr. Blank is leaning on the hood of the little car, cradling his right hand. Judging from the Final Crossing sound, I’d say most of the fingers must be broken. I’ve never hurt someone like that in my life, but he totally deserved it.

  Big O will be impressed. He’s normally the heavy hitter.

  That’s when it hits me.

  “Where’s Big O?”

  “Who?” says Marissa.

  “My brother. I didn’t see him back there.” The crew member, Dorkney, was lying on the deck the last time I looked, knocked down by Mr. Blank. But what happened to Big O?

  “We can’t stop now.” Marissa pulls on my hand. “Let’s find somewhere safe, get some help. Then we’ll find him.”

  “No. He came back for me when I was in trouble. He always does. I gotta go back.”

  Marissa grabs my shoulders and makes me look straight at her. “You go back right now, and that man will stomp all over you. Be smart.” The deep blue of her eyes slows me down, calms me.

  “Your brother wouldn’t want that, right?”

  So I follow her, thinking that Big O has got to be okay. Because if I start thinking about any of the other options, I’m not going to be able to keep it together.

  Breathing hard, we reach the top of the stairs. We are in a section near the front of the ferry. Rows and rows of padded seats are occupied by travelers of various types. Families with sleeping babies or screaming toddlers. Old folks doing crosswords. A bunch of teenage guys in hockey jerseys. Marissa and I slip through the crowd, her in the lead.

  But I pull her to a stop as we walk by a darkened room—an arcade occupied by a few aging video games but otherwise empty.

  “In here.” We step into the dimly lit room and sit down in the twin seats of a driving game. We’re both facing Final Crossing forward, looking at an identical view of a car screaming through a digital landscape. Big flashing letters scroll sideways across the screen—OUTRUNNER!

  Insert Coins to Play!

  “I don’t think he’ll see us in here.”

  I need to take a second. Figure things out.

  I realize my hands are shaking. I put them on the fake steering wheel in fro
nt of me.

  “I thought we were going to get help,” Marissa says. She looks dubiously at me, lit by the glow from the screens in front of us. “You okay?”

  I’m not okay. The adrenaline is draining out of my system, leaving me feeling shaky and freaked out. I want her to understand, to explain things clearly. But it all comes out in babbling rush. “We can’t get help from anyone. See, Big O had this plan—but then things got really complicated, really fast. The plan was—we stole some money. From the cars on the ferry. But then we found you.” I can’t help it, but I even start to tear up. “We just needed a hundred bucks.”

  “You guys were breaking into cars down there?” says Marissa. She leans her head back against the seat, then looks at me again. “That’s how you found me? You were robbing the van?”

  She actually starts to laugh.

  “What?” I wipe at my eye with my sleeve, hoping she doesn’t notice.

  “I just—I thought you somehow heard me down there and ripped open the door. Saved me like a superhero.”

  She smiles sadly. “But you just wanted to steal Mr. Blank’s spare change and accidentally found me?”

  “Basically.” I nod. “Big O wanted some new cds too.”

  She laughs again and rubs the bridge of her nose. “What’s the O stand for, anyway?”

  “Orville. Our dad was really into planes and stuff. Named us after the guys who invented the first airplane. Wilbur and Orville Wright.”

  Marissa looks at me and raises an eyebrow. “Wilbur and Orville.” She shakes her head. “Doesn’t sound right for a pair of superheroes.”

  “Yeah.” I shrug. “We’re no heroes.”

  “Either way, I guess, you still saved me,” she says. “So you’re Wilbur.”

  “Everyone calls me Will.”

  We stare at each other for a moment in the flickering light of the video game.

  She’s really pretty. Not like a doll or someone from a fashion magazine.