by R. A. Meenan
“I’ll see you soon.”
Sooner than you think, Mom. I hung up the phone without a goodbye, not trusting my own voice. I stared at the floor, willing my body to do something, anything, but my mind just stopped.
Where did I go wrong?
“Okay, Neil,” I told myself. “Panicking won’t do any good. Work through the problem. Think.”
I thought.
Okay, my brain said. The Triple Danger probably wouldn’t do anything until after the funeral. That was what they implied in their message to me. I could get to my family before that and get them out. But what else?
Trecheon. He needed warning. But how could I warn him? What if they were following my every move? Tapping my phones, listening in on my conversations? I’d have to instigate a coded message, like we used for the hit. But how could I do that without the preplanning that went into it? More than that, what if The Triple Danger knew all our standard code words from listening in?
But I had to do something.
Snatching up my coat, I ran out the door and headed downstairs. Like usual, my street was busy, full of pedestrians. Most people had their phones out, either listening to music, texting, or on the rare occasion, talking. But that was good. Excellent, in fact. They were distracted. I inserted myself into the crowd, hoping my sleight of hand skills might save me.
After about half an hour of walking, probably the most agonizing thirty minutes of my life, I managed to pilfer a phone from a lady’s open purse. With shaking fingers, I typed in the number for Red’s Garage.
Trecheon picked up after two rings. “Red’s Garage.”
“Good evening Mr. Red,” I said, dropping my voice two octaves, hoping to disguise myself enough that Trecheon wouldn’t stupidly say my name. “My name’s Vet, and I’ve got an issue with an old car that I hope you can take care of. She’s a special old doe, but she’s on her last legs, and I’m hoping you can work some magic and save her.”
I prayed that I got enough code words in that he’d pick up the message. Vet was a modification of the nickname I had earned in the army, so he’d know it was me. The rest of the message was a little more convoluted, but Trecheon was smart. He might get it.
There was a long pause on his end. “Ah, certainly sir,” he finally said, drawing out every word. “We open tomorrow at, ah--” Four taps on the phone, “--seven tomorrow. Can you bring it in then?”
7AM with four taps. Trecheon meant to meet me at 3AM. Seems he got the message. “Thank you, that’d be just fine. Are you still at your listed address?”
“Exactly that,” Trecheon said. I could only hope that the usual meeting place would be left unmolested. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Vet.”
“Thank you, and goodbye.” I hung up, the feeling of relief only mild considering the success of the call. I ducked into the nearest alley, smashed the phone and removed the sim card, then tossed the remains into a dumpster. It took a long time to convince myself to go home, and sleep never came to me that night.
Four
“Okay, Neil,” Trecheon glared at me from the darkness. “Talk.”
The panic I had felt must have come through my voice during the call, because both Trecheon and I were early to our meeting place, a remote cave deep in the canyons outside of town, accessible only by walking. We had both taken great pains to keep the local wildlife out of it, while encouraging the frequent hikers to stifle their own curiosity. I kicked around one of the chicken bones we had used as a prop to make the cave look occupied.
“It speaks for itself,” I told Trecheon, handing him the invite. He snatched it up, and pulled out a small pen light. He only needed a moment before his eyes widened. He met mine.
“Neil, this is deep shit,” he said.
“I know!” I said, trying to keep my volume under control. “But I don’t know how much they know. Were they tapping phones? Listening in on our conversation? Are my parents in danger?” I paused, pressing my ears back and letting my whiskers droop. “Are you? And. . .” I could hardly bring myself to say it, but it had to come out. “. . .Philip.”
Trecheon frowned. “Everything in my head is screaming at me to buy a train ticket to anywhere but here and leave you. But I can’t do that.” He crossed his arms, shaking his head. “Where do your parents live? I’ll close up shop for a while and keep an eye on them. You might be a good sniper, Neil, but you’ve never been good at stakeouts.”
Trecheon’s sudden and unsolicited kindness stunned me like a deer in headlights. “You’re serious. . .?”
“We’re partners, right?” Trecheon said, though I could hear the strain in his voice. “We work together. You’d do the same for me.”
“You don’t have any family, Trecheon.”
“Christian and the other guys I employ are as good as,” Trecheon said.
“Trech--”
Trecheon rolled his eyes. “Don’t call me Trech, dammit, and just let me help. Okay?”
I pressed my lips together and pulled my tail into my hands, rubbing the fur. “You said you were going to regret helping me. And yet, you’re still helping me.”
Trecheon’s features stiffened. “I’m not going to abandon you. Not now. Not ever. I threw my lot into this situation and I’m going to stick with it. Now let me help.”
I didn’t deserve Trecheon’s loyalty. “Fine. Okay.”
“Good,” Trecheon said. “Write the address in the dirt here and I’ll just memorize it. No paper right now.”
“What should I do about this?” I lifted the invitation.
Trecheon frowned at it. “Honestly, Neil. . .” he paused. “I think you should go.”
Both ears flattened. “You know this is just an invitation to die.”
“Well, check out the obituaries first,” Trecheon said. “But if it checks out, you should go. They’re not likely to make a spectacle of you in public. Who knows? They may want to just thank you for freeing them up. Right?”
I snorted. “That’s wishful thinking.”
“You might at least learn about their plans,” Trecheon said. “Besides, if you don’t go, it might end up worse for your family. Unless you can convince them to lay low for a while?”
I sat hard on a rock. Mom would never believe that. He had a point. “Damnit.”
Trecheon stood next to me and squeezed my shoulder. “Neil, we’ll get through this. We’ve done well so far, haven’t we?”
I stared at the dirt. Why did I think this was a good idea? How’d I let myself get this far? How’d Trecheon let his conscience get him into this? I suddenly regretted milking Trecheon’s promise to Carter. It wasn’t worth if it if we both ended up dead.
“I’m sorry, Trecheon. For dragging you into this.”
“What’s done is done,” Trecheon said. He leaned down, picked up a bone prop, and handed it to me. “Get writing and let’s get out of here.”
I gingerly took the bone from his hand.
“Besides, you have a funeral to get ready for,” Trecheon said. “Let me know if you need a suit. I’ve got just the thing.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, and started writing.
__________
Early the next morning I donned my coveralls, tossed my tools in the back of my van, and headed for home. Mom was more than shocked to see me.
“Neil! What are you doing here?” She stepped aside to let me in.
I grinned at her and took a short bow, trying to keep natural. “I was in the area. An appointment canceled, and my next one isn’t for hours, so I might as well use the time to take care of that AC unit. Are Philip and Dad here?”
“Neil!” Philip, with all the energy of a six-year-old, ran across the room and vaulted into my arms. He smelled faintly of dirt and he clung to me with foot and hand claws like an untrained kitten. “You came home, you came home!”
I squeezed my little brother. I had to. It could be the last time, if things didn’t work out. “Hey, squirt. Whatcha been up to?”
“I’m building!” Philip said, wiggling out of my arms. “Wanna see? It’s in the backyard!”
“I’ll be right out, kiddo,” I told him. “Go on out and I’ll be right behind ya.”
Philip ran outside, whooping all the way. I snickered. “You let him play in the dirt in his PJ bottoms?”
“Better that than his good jeans,” Mom said. “So you know, your dad’s out grocery shopping.”
“This early?”
“He’s always been an early riser. I’m grateful. It’s easier to pass kid responsibilities to him when I need to sleep in.”
I grinned. “Another reason Philip’s in PJs I suspect.”
“Right as rain.”
I paused, pressing both ears back. “Look, Mom, is there somewhere you guys can stay for a while? Maybe go on vacation or something?”
Mom eyed me with one ear splayed. “Is something wrong, Neil?”
“I, ah.” I had spent most of the night and morning trying I figure out the best way to broach the subject. Mom wouldn’t believe the truth, and most lies would still make me look bad. There was no helping it. “I got into some gambling debts and, ah, the man I owe is a bit ruthless. I just don’t want him to come around and bothering you while I’m getting the debts settled.”
Mom crossed her arms and glared at me, tail twitching. “Neil Maxwell Black. You did not do something that would put your brother in danger.”
I frowned. “I honestly didn’t mean to, Mom. It’s nothing too serious, but I’m behind in payments.”
“How much do you owe? I’ll write a check.”
I waved both hands. “More than I can ask from you, Mom.”
“Neil, if this is going to put our family in danger--”
“It won’t,” I lied. “It would just be better to avoid harassment. He doesn’t give up.”
“Neil,” Mom looked deep into my eyes. “You know we can’t leave. Your father’s job wouldn’t put up with it.”
“But--”
“We can’t leave,” Mom said. “Unless it’s really big enough that we need to.”
I was torn. Do I tell her the truth and hope she believes me? Do I face eternal shame and the possibility of never seeing my brother again? Mom would never let me near him if she knew the truth. But if they were all killed, I’d face that anyway. Could I really trust Trecheon to protect them the way I would protect them?
“Hon,” Mom said. “Go see your brother. Then talk to me while you fix the AC unit. I’ll go make some tea in the meantime. Okay?”
Enough time to really think. Damn, Mom was good. “Okay.” I dragged my tail behind me and went outside.
Philip was in the sandbox in the back, staring intently at a sloppy sand castle as he dripped more sloppy sand on top of it. I stood on the patio, taking everything in. The backyard was huge, even bigger in my childhood mind. Massive trees towered by the back fence, covering most of the weedy lawn in shadow. A small, three-foot-deep pool stood unused and dirty near the patio, and the plastic turtle sandbox blended neatly into the background by the trees. The trees themselves had always been a special place for me. As a kid, I had built a rough camouflage shelter buried deep behind the two redwoods out of leftover wood from dad’s building projects. It was so well hidden that Mom never figured out where it was. I used it to hide when Mom bothered me.
I had never told Philip about it, but I kept it cleaned and maintained, tending to it whenever I had a moment alone in the house, usually during Philip’s naptimes when I babysat him. I planned to show it to him when he was older so it could be a secret place for him as well, and when he was old enough that secrets were easier to keep. But now. . . Now it might be more of a savior than I ever thought possible. I approached the sandbox.
“Hey bud,” I said. “Whatcha making?”
“A poopy castle,” Philip said, still staring at the sand.
I tried not to laugh. “A poopy castle?”
“Duh,” Philip said. “Can’t you tell?”
I tilted my head and splayed an ear. “I suppose?”
Philip grinned. “I’m just pulling your tail. Watch this!” He suddenly scooped a bunch of the wet sand and mixed it with a handful of dry sand, then dropped it in a shaped bucket. With careful patting and measuring, he filled the bucket, then in a swift moment, he flipped it over and slowly lifted it, revealing a perfectly shaped castle turret. “Ha ha! It worked!”
“That’s great, Philip,” I said, then leaned down. “Wanna see something even greater?”
“Oooh, yes!” Philip said.
“Follow me.” I chanced a glance at the house, saw the windows empty, then led Philip to the trees. He frowned when we got to the edge.
“Mom says we’re not allowed in the woods.”
I had to laugh. “Buddy, it’s five trees a bunch of underbrush. It’s not woods.”
“That’s what mom calls them,” Philip said. “She says there’s bears in there!”
I leaned down and gave him a skeptical look. “We’re pumas. No bear is going to hurt us. Okay? I say it’s okay, so don’t worry.”
Philip looked reluctant, but eventually agreed. He glanced back and forth through the walk, but he seemed satisfied when he found the back fence. After a brief trek through the brush, I found my shelter, still deeply hidden behind the redwoods.
“Watch this.” I pressed on the hidden branch and opened the door to a tiny shelter. Two benches lined the walls, both just short enough for Philip to sit on. He gaped, his ears perky.
“Whoa! That’s so cool!”
“You have to keep your voice down,” I said. “Or the magic can’t protect you.”
“Ooh, there’s magic?”
“Yes,” I said. “Special protection magic. As long as you come in here and stay perfectly still and quiet, no one can find you. I used it to hide from Mom all the time.”
Philip giggled. “And I can use it?”
“You can,” I said. I slowed my speech and looked Philip right in the eye. This next part was important. “In fact, if you ever see someone in the house that you don’t know, you should run straight for this place and hide here until I come find you. Okay?”
Philip got really quiet, staring at the hideaway. Rotting leaves still lined the floor, despite my best efforts, and everything had a musty, earthy smell. Tiny rays of light made their way through the cracks in the wood. But among these bushes, behind these trees, it was essentially invisible. Philip ran a finger over a splintering wood.
“Are strangers going to visit our house?”
I frowned. “Maybe.”
“Is that why I saw Uncle Trecheon watching me in the backyard?”
My body stiffened. Trecheon was already here? Watching them? How did Philip even see him? For that matter, how did Philip even remember him? Trecheon’s probably seen him maybe six times in his entire lifetime.
Philip pressed both ears back frowning. “Sorry if I wasn’t supposed to see him.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” I said. “But don’t tell him you saw him, okay? He’s going to be your guardian angel for a while.”
“Can he see me in the magic box?”
“No,” I said. “Only you and I know it exists. Don’t come out from the magic box, even if I call for you. Wait for me to come directly to you. Okay?”
“Neil,” Philip said, suddenly huddling next to me and speaking in a hushed whisper. “I’m scared.”
I’ve always thought it was amazing how easily kids picked up a sense of danger. We don’t give them enough credit. I’m scared too, pal. But I couldn’t say that out loud. Instead I hugged him. “Uncle Trecheon will protect you. That’s his job. Alright?”
“And you’ll protect me too, right?”
I squeezed tighter. “Always.”
We closed up the hideout, and headed back out into the main yard. I casually glanced around the area for Trecheon, but I couldn’t spot him. Perhaps he had moved on, or maybe Philip wa
s simply better than I was.
But if Trecheon was already watching. . . if Philip had a safe place to hide. . . Maybe my family would be okay after all. I elected not to tell Mom the truth. I just couldn’t bear the disappointment and anger and the very real possibility that I’d be barred from seeing my little brother ever again. We could handle it. They’d be safe.
And what Mom didn’t know couldn’t hurt her. Right?
Five
I stared at the two options before me. Trecheon’s borrowed suit or my Marine dress blues. I had to pick carefully. My choice could be the very last thing I ever wear.
After an hour of deliberation, I went with the dress blues. The suit might make me more anonymous, assuming I’d be anonymous at all, but the dress blues had an added advantage. I had an excuse to carry the Mameluke saber. And unlike many of my fellow soldiers, I knew how to use it in combat and not just for show.
I chewed my lip as I attached it to my belt. The only reason I had any knowledge of how to use the sword was because Carter was so good at it. He had taught me during our rare spare moments on the battlefield. I kept my skills up as a memorial to him.
Mind you, it wouldn’t do me a damn bit of good if they put a bullet through my head before I got to it. But at least it was a weapon, and one that at least pretended to show some kind of respect for the woman I’d killed.
A distant, but intense feeling of shock still ran through my veins. Like my body was feeding me a constant stream of adrenaline in preparation for this.
This was it. This could be my last day on Earth. Hell.
I didn’t own a car, so I hired a taxi to take me to St. Buck’s Cathedral to keep the blues nice and clean. The driver eyed the sword at my side, but said nothing.
We drove on to the Cathedral, a lofty building in the center of the quieter residential areas in El Dorado. Despite being in a quiet area, the Cathedral was the largest in the state, all tall towers, ancient wood and stone, hundreds of stained glass windows, and more pews than anyone other than a monk would be willing to count. A monument to Draso and all his supposed goodness.
I was never a religious person. Mom and Dad leaned more toward Christianity, despite the fact that most zyfaunos followed Draso. My religions teacher had told me that Draso and God were actually the same person though, even if the religions were technically different. Still, my swearing habits tended toward profaning God rather than Draso. Call it my own form of adoration.
I let out a shuddering breath as we entered the parking lot. Part relief and part fear. Relief to see the lot nearly full of cars and a few bikes, with lines of people, human and zyfaunos in their best mourning clothes headed for the church. I wasn’t alone. Fear because that could only mean that The Triple Danger were around somewhere.
I paid the cabbie and walked out into the sunlight. The tension in my body grew, making my fingers and tail twitch. My ears wouldn’t keep steady. They spun, listening for any tiny sound, desperate to keep me alive in any way they could. Breathing was hard and I know I was blinking too fast and too often.
I had to calm myself. Trecheon was right. They wouldn’t take me in a crowded public setting. Would they?
I forced one foot forward. Than the other. Willing my body to calm, I crossed the parking lot