All the Dead Lie Down

by Mary Willis Walker

  Molly can barely sit still. She is second-guessing her handling of this. “You know what we should have done?” she says with a sudden insight. “We should have called it in as a bomb threat.”

  Sarah Jane looks at her. “Yeah. That might get some attention.”

  “The second man on the deck,” Molly said, “not the Kraut, the other one. Did you actually see him?”

  “No. Tin Can did, not me. I didn’t see the big one, the Kraut, until the library. But I recognized his voice.”

  “You think you’d recognize the other guy’s voice?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Why were you stealing the book?”

  “I wasn’t stealing it. I was borrowing it to help me show I was telling the truth about what I heard. Now I won’t be able to go back there anymore. And it’s my favorite place.”

  “We’ll figure something out,” Molly says. “Did you ever remember the second verse?”

  “What?”

  “Little Bopeep. What it was she dreamt.”

  “Oh. Little Bopeep fell fast asleep and dreamt she heard them bleating. That’s what she dreamt, that she heard them bleating.”

  “Then what?”

  “Let’s see. When she awoke, it was a joke, for still they all were fleeting. Something like that.”

  “What you did back there—” Molly says, “I could never have done it. You were just amazing.”

  Sarah Jane shrugs. “You’re the one knocked him out. And throwing a fit like you did—that was real good.”

  Molly studies Sarah Jane Hurley, really looking at her for the first time. Her frizzy gray and brown hair stands out from her head like electrified Brillo. Her cheeks are flushed red from exertion, and her large dark eyes glitter with life force. She hasn’t remembered to button up her plaid shirt and her dirty undershirt shows.

  Molly reaches out and buttons her shirt for her.

  Sarah Jane smiles. It is the first time Molly has seen her smile. Maybe she isn’t crazy.

  Molly leans forward again and asks the driver, “What’s your name?”

  “Fred.”

  “Well, Fred, let’s see how fast you can do this open stretch of First Street.”

  “Cesar Chavez,” he says, accelerating. “They changed the name.”

  Sarah Jane taps her on the shoulder. “Why didn’t you call me back when I left you that message?”

  “I was out of town. As soon as I got it, I did try to call you at HOBO. But you weren’t there.”

  “Oh. I saw a cop go in, so I was afraid to go back in.”

  “What did he look like?” Molly sees the turn coming. “Fred, here’s your left. You can make it. Don’t stop. Go right through.”

  “White hair,” Sarah Jane says, “mustache. Fifty maybe. Pretty thin.”

  Molly smiles. “He thinks he doesn’t look like a cop. You’ve got a good eye.”

  “There’s a warrant out for me in Houston.”

  “I know.”

  Sarah Jane is silent for a moment. Then she looks back at Molly. “How are you? You took such a hard knock back there I wasn’t sure you’d ever wake up from it.”

  “I think I’ve got a permanent headache. And my knee got cut at the dump, and I’ve got these ant bites all over my feet. How about you?”

  “Me? I’ve never been better. I was brought back to life and healed, you know.”

  Molly studies her, trying to decide whether she’s crazy or not. She says, “That must be pretty… exciting—being brought back to life.”

  “Yeah, it is. I feel really bad about bringing all that shit down on Mother Teresa. And Lufkin too. He kept his word. He was coming to help me get out of town.”

  “Not your fault,” Molly says. “None of it. There’ll be time to think about it later.”

  Sarah Jane leans forward and says to the driver, “Now just lay on your horn, Freddie, all the way up Congress, like you’re an ambulance. Step on it.”

  He does step on it, and pedestrians scatter before them as the Capitol dome gets closer. “Fred,” Molly says, “what time is it now?”

  He glances at his watch, then back at the road. “Ten forty-nine.”

  The session must be under way, unless they’ve evacuated. Surely, Molly thinks, they have to take a call like hers seriously. She hopes to see lots of flashing lights and a crowd of people out front on the Capitol grounds. But there is just one police unit and the usual foot traffic walking in and out. Something has gone wrong, she is sure of it. “Here’s the plan,” Molly says. “We’re going to run right up the big stairs to the Senate. We won’t stop to talk to anyone. If they’re still in there, we’ll make them get out. We’ll yell ‘Fire’ if we have to.”

  The Volkswagen screeches to a halt at the front steps. “Ladies,” Fred says, “four and a half minutes.” As Molly climbs out of the back seat, he hands her a slip of paper. “My address.”

  They scramble out. They run up the steps with Molly in the lead. She pulls open the big door. A tour group is standing in the rotunda looking up at the dome. A guard stands next to the Sam Houston statue and several men in suits are walking through the foyer.

  The guard alerts when he sees them. Molly calls out to him, “There’s a bomb in the Senate! Evacuate the building. Sound an alarm. Call up there on your radio and tell them to get everyone out. Right now!”

  He puts his hand on his gun and looks at her from under his big Stetson. “Come over here, please, ma’am,” he says, moving toward them the way you’d approach a snarling dog.

  “You aren’t listening!” Molly is screaming at him now. “Use your radio to call up there.” She runs toward the stairs, giving the guard a wide berth.

  Every face in the tour group is turned toward them now, staring. “Get outside,” Molly calls back to them. “We’re going to evacuate the building. Hurry!”

  The staircase, which is wide enough for an entire cavalry to ride up, is empty. Molly takes the steps two at a time. Sarah Jane is behind her and the guard is following them, talking into his radio and keeping them in sight as he climbs. Molly slows at the top so Sarah Jane can catch up with her. “Listen,” she says, panting, “they’re not taking this seriously. We need to do it ourselves. I’m going to go first to distract them. You go right through the Senate door and yell up a storm. Tell them there’s a bomb and they all have to get out. Keep yelling till they’re all out.”

  Sarah Jane looks panicked. But she nods.

  They turn the corner and there’s the reception committee waiting for them, of course, in the lobby, standing in front of the closed door into the Senate chamber—two Austin policemen, a DPS security officer, and a man in a dark suit.

  “Go ahead,” Molly whispers to Sarah Jane.

  “There’s a bomb in there,” Molly says, approaching the men, talking fast and loud. “It’s a poison gas bomb and it will kill everybody in there. Tell Special Agent Heller from the FBI.”

  The man in the dark suit starts talking into his radio.

  “Listen! You can’t take a chance on this. I’m Molly Cates from—”

  “Ma’am, are you the one that called 911?” asks one of the cops.

  Molly sees Sarah Jane walking with her head down, trying not to attract attention. “Yes, sir. I’m Molly Cates. An editor at Lone Star Monthly.” She decides to try dropping some names and keep the talk going so they’ll all be looking at her. “I’m Senator Morrisey’s godchild. Go ask him. Get him out here so he can tell you. Why haven’t you evacuated? I called more than ten minutes ago. Do it now. If you don’t, you’ll be held responsible when—”

  “Ma’am, ma’am, will you come in here a minute, please?” He beckons her to a side office. “We need some more information from you, ma’am. Could we talk in here?” He motions toward the little room off to the side of the door.

  She follows him. “We’re wasting time here. You need to get people out and do a search.”

  One of the cops sees Sarah Jane opening the door and he sprints to intercept her, but
she’s already slipped in and closed the door behind her. He rushes in after her.

  Molly breaks away and hurries to the door. She’s not sure Sarah Jane is up to the job, so she wants to be there to back her up.

  Sarah Jane is standing in the middle of the chamber. Looking up at the gallery, she shouts in a firm voice, “It’s a poison gas bomb and it will kill everybody in here when it goes off. So y’all need to move out of here right now.”

  Several guards are heading her way fast and the lieutenant governor is pounding his gavel. “Madam!” he shouts into his microphone. “If you have something to say, please—”

  Sarah Jane pays no attention to him, and neither does anyone else. “Keep it orderly, folks,” she shouts up to the gallery. “I see a school group up there. Let those children out first, and the wheelchair people. Stand back and let them through the door.” Her voice has real carrying power and the authority of a drill instructor.

  On the floor, senators and aides are all standing, gathering papers, moving toward the doors. Thank God. They believe us. Molly catches a glimpse of Parnell and his aide and Garland Rauther as they leave with the rest.

  Up in the gallery, pandemonium is breaking loose. Guards are running around trying to direct the traffic. There are only two doors and everyone is trying to push through at the same time. The noise level is rising by the second. The lieutenant governor is screaming into his microphone. “Calmly, calmly, ladies and gentlemen! This is just a drill! We’ll reconvene this afternoon at one o’clock. Please keep calm! Everyone out of the building for this routine drill. Keep calm!”

  An alarm starts to blare out in the halls. It sounds like an air raid and is music to Molly’s ears. Finally someone in power is taking this seriously. The alarm should alert the whole building.

  Two guards are holding Sarah Jane’s arms and trying to get her to leave, but she is refusing to budge. Molly, still standing at the door, is torn. She wants to get out with the rest of the people evacuating. The panic is contagious. But she can’t leave unless Sarah Jane does. She walks into the chamber, which is easy since most of the senators have cleared out.

  There is too much noise now for Sarah Jane to be heard, so she stops yelling. Everyone is on the move anyway. One of the guards holding Sarah Jane’s arm shouts, “Come on!” Sarah Jane wrenches away from him. “I’m gonna wait till everyone’s out,” she insists.

  A young woman guard takes Molly by the arm and tries to move her out. Molly shakes her head and stays put. “You go on,” she shouts into the woman’s ear.

  Agent Heller bursts through the door. He is wearing his usual fatigues and yellow beret and Molly feels a wave of relief at the sight of him. “Is that you, Miss Cates?” he demands. “What in bloody hell is all this?”

  “Heller! There’s a poison gas bomb in here. We’ll tell you about it outside. Make sure everyone gets out.”

  “Where is this bomb?” he asks.

  Sarah Jane says, “I think in a camera or other stuff they use to take pictures. I think that’s what they said.”

  “And it’s gas?” he asks.

  “Soman,” she says.

  “Holy shit!” He looks up at the gallery and calls out to the man in the dark suit, who is looking down on them. “Brinker! Is everyone up there out?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Look for cameras and flash equipment. Be careful. It’s nerve gas.”

  Then he turns to the guards. “I’m Special Agent Heller. FBI. Move out to the hall now and help with traffic. It’s chaos. I’ll take over in here.”

  The guards let go of Molly and Sarah Jane and leave quickly. Heller says, “Go on, ladies. I’ll join you outside in a few minutes. We’ve got lots to talk about.”

  Molly and Sarah Jane look at one another and nod. They’ve done their job. There’s no reason now not to get the hell out.

  “You get out too, Heller,” Molly says over her shoulder. He is the last one remaining, except for two guards, who are walking around the chamber talking into their radios, and the FBI agent in the suit up in the gallery.

  “Move,” Heller says.

  Molly and Sarah Jane walk through the lobby. They find the halls packed wall to wall, with people still pouring out of the offices and meeting rooms. The entire building is clearing out. The staircase, broad as it is, is the logjam. It is packed and the progress is very slow. A group of panicky children are crying and one has fallen on the stairs. The teacher is trying to get back to him. The noise, bouncing off the terrazzo floors, is deafening.

  Molly has a sudden stab of worry. People are getting hurt and it might turn out to be for nothing if this is a false alarm.

  They wait at the top of the stairs until everyone in the hall has gotten into the traffic on the stairs. It feels as though they are the hosts at a party and need to let all their guests go first. Molly is sure Sarah Jane feels that way too, because she is standing aside and ushering people along.

  As they finally start down, Heller joins them. “Boy, do I ever want to hear what you two have to say,” he says as they follow the crowd down. The progress is one step at a time, but the traffic is moving steadily and behind them are only a few stragglers.

  From the top of the stairs a guard, red-faced and agitated, calls out to Heller. “Agent! Come up here, please. ASAP.”

  “I’ll see you ladies outside,” Heller tells them. He runs back up the stairs.

  Molly and Sarah Jane finally make it down the stairs and through the rotunda to the south door. Four guards and an Austin policeman are moving people out the door, saying, “Keep the drive clear, folks. Move way back to the grass, please. Keep the drive clear.”

  As they descend the steps, three police cars wail up the drive with their lights flashing. Four more are barreling up Congress. One of the cops who jumps out says, “Bomb squad’s on the way. Keep that driveway clear. Out of the drive, folks. Move way back. Quickly now. Way back.”

  Now Molly is aware of sirens screaming from all directions.

  The cops park on the lawn, jump out, and set about moving people back and stringing up yellow tape to keep the drive and the area at the front door clear.

  By the time Molly and Sarah Jane reach the south lawn, hundreds of people are there, milling around, excited, buzzing, everyone trying to get information.

  Two white vans screech up the driveway. The vans aren’t marked, but Molly thinks it’s the bomb unit.

  A big Austin cop who was in the reception group earlier spots them and walks over to them. “After all this,” he says, “you two ladies better have something good.”

  Agent Heller appears on the steps, talking with a policeman, who then shouts out, “Everyone get back! Back! We got some ambulances coming. Folks, this is not a drill. This is the real thing. We need you to cooperate.”

  Heller surveys the crowd. Molly waves her arms to get his attention. He sprints down the steps and across the grass toward them. When he reaches Molly and Sarah Jane, he says in a low voice, “Jesus Christ, there is a bomb. Just went off. Whole room’s full of gas. We got three men in there. Dead, I think. But we can’t go in for them until we get some masks. The doors are closed but we don’t know if this stuff is going to travel.” Looking up, he shouts to a group of Austin policemen, who are just standing around, “Get that crowd farther back! Move the perimeter way back!”

  He looks back at Molly and Sarah Jane. “How did you two know about this? I want to hear everything, right from the start.”

  Molly is about to speak up when Sarah Jane steps forward and says, “I can tell you all that, but first I want to say I did not attack that guy at the library. He attacked me. He was trying to kill me and I don’t think it’s fair to keep me out of a public library.”

  Agent Heller nods, as though it all makes sense to him. Then he says, “I agree. I can take care of that for you, ma’am. Now tell me how on earth you knew about this poison gas.”

  THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH SHOOTING, AS LONG AS THE RIGHT PEOPLE GET SHOT.r />
  —“DIRTY HARRY” CALLAHAN

  Grady Traynor didn’t show up until late afternoon. By then Molly Cates had spent four long hours in the suite the FBI had commandeered in the Reagan Office Building next to the Capitol. She had already told and retold her little part of the story to Agent Heller, five other FBI agents, two Austin cops from the bomb unit, and three from homicide. When Grady finally arrived, she’d been sitting in the outer office for a half hour watching the receptionist answer a constant barrage of phone calls.

  Grady showed his badge to the receptionist and came in. He sat down next to Molly and looked her over—her bandaged chin and scabby, swollen lip, her stitched-up and bandaged knee braced on the table in front of her. She was wearing the green scrub suit the EMS medic had given her after he’d tended to her wounds.

  “I’d kiss you,” Grady said, “but I can’t find a place that looks like it wouldn’t hurt.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you can,” she said. “We’ll work on that later.”

  He took hold of her hand. “Molly, I leave you sleeping peacefully and a few hours later you’ve been kidnapped and pistol-whipped, you’ve witnessed two homicides, you’ve fractured the skull of a homeless man, you’ve tried to break the window in a service station, and you’ve saved the state legislature from a poison gas attack.”

  “Just the Senate. Anyway, Sarah Jane did the saving; I was just along for the ride.”

  “Well.” He sat back and looked her over again.

  “So his skull is fractured.” Molly still felt in her elbows the jarring impact when she smashed the toilet lid down on his head. “I’m amazed anyone could live through that.”

  “Hardheaded. He’s already regained consciousness.”

  “I’m relieved to hear I didn’t kill him.”

  “I thought you might be. But you would’ve saved the state some trouble; they’ll bring a capital murder charge against him.”

  “Good.”

  “We haven’t picked Squint up yet, but we will.”

  “Oh, Grady, Mother Teresa was this sweet nut case and Lufkin was trying valiantly to help us…. The wrong people got shot out there.”