The Warden's Son

by C. G. Cooper

  “Come on,” I said.

  We made our way to the tree I’d used as a hiding spot before, where I’d overheard the new guards jabbering on. There were no cars this time. No guards. No secret bags.

  “What are we looking for?” Larry asked.

  “A tunnel.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. It’s right over there.”

  “I don’t see it.”

  “That’s because it’s dark.”

  “What’s in the tunnel?”

  I’d done it now. The Larry Allen floodgates were open.

  “Let’s not talk about it, okay, Larry?”

  “But I wanna know—"

  Then, before I could tell him to keep his questions to himself, alarm sirens wailed in the distance.

  Chapter Ninety-Two

  They went on and on for what seemed like a good ten minutes. We should’ve run for the house. It’s easy to see that now. But then, so much of what happened next would’ve been stripped from history. History would be deprived of another fascinating memoir. You make decisions, good and bad, that turn the engines of fate one way or another. I made the decision to stay.

  Larry squirmed next to me.

  “Stop moving,” I said.

  “I can’t help it; I need to pee.”

  “Then, pee.”

  “I need a bathroom.”

  “You pee outside all the time.”

  “Yeah, but—"

  I clamped my hand over his mouth when I saw it. A flicker of movement. Right there. Right where I knew the tunnel was. I didn’t exactly know where the entrance was. Carlisle said it was hidden. Not too hidden, but hidden enough to not be able to see from a distance, especially not in the dark.

  Larry tugged at my wrist. He was dancing from foot to foot now.

  “Go right here,” I whispered.

  Larry shook his head.

  Just when I thought that maybe the shadow I’d seen was Carlisle, the shadow turned to two, and then three.

  “Jimmy,” Larry moaned through my hand.

  I put my lips next to my brother’s ear and said, “There are bad men over there. If you don’t be quiet, they’re going to hear us and hurt us.”

  Instead of panic, his body relaxed. I thought that was a good thing until the realization hit. Larry had peed himself.

  Chapter Ninety-Three

  Larry started whimpering, and I nearly panicked.

  “It’s okay,” I said, as quiet as I could. “You’re okay. I’ll help you change when we get home, and I won’t tell Mom, okay?”

  I could tell he was trying to be brave. He’d been so proud of being potty trained. I saw it in my mind’s eye. Cheers from Mom. Less than enthused claps from me as Larry held his last diaper over his head in triumph.

  “I’m in trouble,” Larry said, sniffing so loud I was sure the guards would hear.

  My body was tingling with nervous anticipation now. “What did I just say? You’re not in trouble, Larry. I promise. I won’t tell Mom.”

  “Dad?”

  “I won’t tell him either.”

  That bucked him up a couple of notches, reducing his sniffles to spasmodic sucking.

  I risked a glance around the tree. The movement of shadows continued, like writhing snakes in an oily pit.

  “We need to be extra quiet now. Can you do that?”

  Larry nodded, adding a mouse sniffle at the end.

  “Good. I promise I’ll get us home safe.”

  It was a promise I had no business making.

  I readjusted my position and said, “I need to get closer and see what they’re doing. Can you stay here for a minute?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Larry,” there had to be words for a time like this. “You know what? I think you’re braver than me.”

  “I am?”

  “Sure. Remember that time you went to the hospital? After the fort?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, you were way braver than I could’ve been. I swear.”

  His round eyes didn’t look convinced. “I’m scared.”

  “I know you are. I am too. But you can be scared and still be brave.”

  I was some fount of wisdom.

  “Even the toughest superheroes get scared,” I said.

  “Superman?”

  “Even Superman.”

  “G.I. Joe?”

  “Definitely G.I. Joe.” Another glance around the trees. Less movement now. “Are you okay if I leave you?”

  Please say yes.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay,” I said, letting out a breath. “Sit on the ground. I promise I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Larry sat down and folded his hands in his lap. “Hurry, Jimmy.”

  “I will.”

  There I went, once again making promises I had no business making.

  Chapter Ninety-Four

  I was out from behind the tree on tiptoes, another black shadow moving towards the tunnel entrance. How many dark tunnels had been the adventures of my mind; filled with bats, giant spiders, and all kinds of unfathomable evil. The terrors of my nightmares. I had no intention of actually going into the tunnel. I just wanted to see what they were doing in there.

  A man’s face flashed in the moonlight, set and focused on his work. I could see the bags. Large duffels slung over a shoulder. I soon heard the grunts as the duffels were heaved on a trailer with no truck to pull it. The bed was almost full.

  “Hurry up,” someone whispered.

  “I’m hurrying,” another said.

  The prison siren pierced the night air causing more than one of the hunched forms to pause.

  “I said, ‘hurry,’” said the man in charge.

  They’d started the second layer of duffels when a beam of light cut through the dark, illuminating the working party. I tensed at the intrusion, thinking that maybe this was a search party from the prison.

  My hopes were dispelled first by the lack of concern from the working party, and then by the sound of a deep truck engine coming over the ridge. I had to get down on my belly under a bit of biting scrub. The inherent dampness of the winter ground spread along my torso, making me shiver all over.

  At least I could see them all now, clearly defined by the truck’s beams. Just as I’d thought, there were neat rows of green duffels lining the trailer.

  “Get it hitched,” one of the men said.

  Two men got to it without a word, guiding the truck forward and then around so it could back in and onto the hitch. With the powerful beams turned, I took the chance and went back to join Larry.

  I made it back to the tree in one piece.

  One problem. Larry was gone.

  Chapter Ninety-Five

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I said to myself.

  “Jimmy,” came the whisper, and I whipped my head in its direction.

  “Larry?”

  “Over here.”

  I could make out his shape some ten feet away. “What are you doing over there?”

  He was hiding under a tangle of bushes, chest high. “It’s better over here. You don’t have to look around the tree.”

  He was right; you could hunker down and see the tunnel entrance, perfectly. I could even see the dim light inside.

  “Good find, Larry.”

  I imagined him grimly nodding as I settled in on the ground next to him.

  “It’s on,” one of the men at the hitch said.

  Something popped in the distance. Then another. You grow up around prisons; you know the sound of gunfire when you hear it.

  “It’s starting,” the man in charge said.

  The men moved faster now with the bags. The light from the tunnel blinked out, the only glow coming from the brake lights of the truck. Without a word, they piled into the back of the truck and eased away from the tunnel.

  “What are they doing, Jimmy?”

  “I don’t know. But I’m gonna find out.”

  When I was sure the coast was clear, I
helped Larry out of his hiding spot and onto his feet.

  Hand in hand, the brothers Allen went to find out what this mysterious tunnel was all about.

  Chapter Ninety-Six

  They’d left the grass-covered door ajar. That told me the men did not need to come back.

  “Are we going inside?”

  “No. We need to get you home.”

  “But I want to help.”

  “You did help.”

  I wasn’t lying. The responsibility of my little brother’s well-being had imbued me with an extra ounce of courage.

  It took us longer to get back than to get there. Larry was huffing but still pushing as we neared the residences. The prison was lit up like a summer’s day.

  “Why are all the lights on?” Larry asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is Dad in trouble?”

  “I think he’s okay,” I said, not wanting to scare him.

  When we got home, we found that the guards had left.

  “Huh,” I said, then froze to my spot. “Oh, no . . .”

  “What’s wrong?” Larry whined.

  “Mom.”

  I ran into the house, leaving Larry in the dust.

  “Mom!” I yelled as I burst through the front door. Oh god, the door was unlocked. “Mom?”

  No answer, all we heard was just the next siren blaring from the prison.

  Chapter Ninety-Seven

  “Where’s Mom?” Larry had come in the front door behind me almost shocking me out of my socks.

  “Jeez. You scared me. You shouldn’t do that, Larry.”

  He cowered back a step, his lower lip kicking out in a pout.

  This was no time for me to go all high horse on him. “It’s okay,” I said, not really meaning it. But if I didn’t calm Larry down, I might be in real trouble.

  “I’m scared,” he said.

  “It’s gonna be okay.”

  I wrapped him in a hug and picked him up. He was feather-light.

  “Where’s Mom, Jimmy?” he asked with a whimper.

  We both jumped when the phone rang. I gathered my guts off the floor and set Larry down.

  “Hello?” I said, noticing my shaking hand as it held the receiver.

  “James, where have you been?”

  “Mom . . .” Everything inside me relaxed. “We’re at the house.”

  “Well, of course, you’re at the house,” she barked.

  “W—where are you?”

  “I’m at the Bells’. I’m coming to get you.”

  “No!” I answered a little too quickly.

  “James Allen, you listen to me right now. I’ve been worried sick. Your father is furious. Like he doesn’t have enough on his hands.”

  “Mom, what’s going on at the prison?”

  There was a pause, and there was the sound of breathing. “Your father didn’t say. Denny said it’s something with the inmates.”

  “Is Denny with you?”

  “No. Denny left to help your father.” My gut twisted as Mom continued, “Pack some things. I’m coming to get you.”

  “Okay,” I said at last.

  The line went dead, and I stood with the receiver in my hand, thinking. If Dad and Denny were both gone, who could I talk to? I couldn’t tell Mom about the tunnel. I wished Carlisle were there. My sage. My voice of pure reason.

  “Larry, quick, change your pants, get your backpack, and put some things in it,” I commanded.

  “Toys?”

  “Sure. Whatever you want. Stuff to do, and your blankie if you want.”

  Larry rushed off, and I took my time. Sure, I wanted to be safe. If Mom was at the Bells’ house, there had to be guards there, also. How much time did I have?

  I was thinking about what I should bring when the bat phone rang. The next ring jangled me to my toes. I crept up to the phone like it would come to life and swallow me whole. Another ring.

  It’s just a phone, Jimmy. Pick it up . . .

  “Hello?”

  “Jimmy,” said Carlisle. “Thank God!”

  “Carlisle?”

  “I don’t have time, Jimmy. Listen, your dad’s in trouble. I don’t know what to do.”

  “What’s wrong with my dad?”

  I heard clanging and shouting on the other end.

  “You need to get help. You hear me, Jimmy?”

  The racket drowned out the other end. Carlisle’s voice came on again, cutting through the noise. “Do whatever you have to do, Jimmy. Get help and make sure . . .”

  The phone squelched in my ear and went dead. I was staring down at it when the lights went out.

  Chapter Ninety-Eight

  Larry’s voice came from the back of the house.

  “Jimmy?”

  “I’m coming.”

  I found him standing in the middle of his bedroom, thumb in his mouth, blankie in his opposite hand.

  “What happened?” he asked with his thumb still in his mouth.

  “The lights will come on soon,” I said. The power and the phone going dead couldn’t be a coincidence. In my head, I did the math. The piercing sounds of the sirens had been going for close to an hour. If they’d been blaring that long, where were the reinforcements? The local police? The Feds?

  “Finish packing,” I said.

  “I can’t see.”

  I went to the window and flung the curtains open. The light from the moon illuminated the room.

  “There. See? Better? I’ll be right back.”

  “Don’t leave,” Larry whined.

  “Larry, you need to be brave. Can you do that for me?”

  He nodded; thumb still stuck toddler-like between his teeth.

  “Good.” I grabbed his backpack from the closet and handed it to him. The thumb finally came out. “Pack some things. Not too much.”

  I wondered why Mom hadn’t come back as I packed. There were the D&D books and a random comic that’d been on my desk for months.

  Carlisle had said I needed to get help. The phones were dead. How was I supposed to get help? I could run to town, but I’d have to run by the prison to get there. Whatever was going on, or whoever was running the show would undoubtedly have the road blocked. So, no running to get help.

  Think, Jimmy.

  I looked around the room, and my eyes settled on the Revolutionary War diorama sitting on my dresser. I had an idea.

  I made a quick trip to my parents’ room to the secret compartment Dad had shown me. Now packed and settled in my course, Larry and I left the house hand in hand to find Mom.

  Chapter Ninety-Nine

  She met us on the Bells’ front porch and squished us in a hug. Mom answered my question before it left my mouth.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t come. Mrs. Bell is having contractions.”

  “What’s a contraction?” Larry asked.

  “She’s going to have a baby, honey.”

  “Like right now?” I blurted.

  “Maybe. Come inside.”

  I didn’t want to go inside. Images of blood, guts, and gooey babies covered in gore kept me from stepping across the threshold.

  “Can I stay outside?”

  “It’s freezing. Don’t be silly.”

  That’s when I noticed what should've been obvious.

  “Where are the guards?”

  “They had to go back to prison.” I knew the tone. She was trying to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal. But I heard the fear behind her voice. “Now, come on. Your brother’s shaking.”

  I felt uncomfortable as soon as the front door closed. It could’ve been the eerie light cast by the pair of candles on the side table. Or the way the shadows danced on the ceiling. Or the continued siren blare. There was a smell in the house like overripe fruit, acrid, and sickly. I thought I might choke on it.

  Mom and Larry didn’t seem to be affected. I was going to puke.

  “Can I use the bathroom?” I asked. No way she was going to let me back outside.

  “Of course. But
don’t use hot water.”

  Thankfully the water was running. I double-cupped scoop after scoop of water and soaked my face.

  Snap out of it.

  I’m not sure whether it was the water or the item in my backpack that made me feel better, but when I left the bathroom, I felt more myself. There was a moan from what I assumed was the master bedroom, and then my mom’s voice, “It’s okay. Just breathe.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” Larry asked, peeking around the corner of the living room.

  “She’s having a baby,” I said.

  A high keen wail cut through the quiet house. I froze.

  “James?” said Mom. “I need you to find some towels and soak them in cold water.”

  “I don’t know where the towels are.”

  “Oh, for Heaven’s sake! Find them, James!” Her tone left zero room to argue.

  I found a pile of hotel towels in the powder room. I also noticed how the end of the toilet paper folded to a point. What was wrong with these people?

  I soaked the hand towels in the kitchen sink and scrounged a pot from one of the few cabinets. The house was smaller than ours but much neater. Even in the dark, it was hard to miss how every little thing had its place. I opened a drawer and saw forks piled parade-ground-neat and knives lines up like soldiers. The glass cabinet was the same. There were coffee mugs with logos that all pointed out, handles all on the right. It was like everything was for display purposes only.

  Pot in hand, I trudged down the hall.

  “I’ve got the towels,” I said, not wanting to go all the way to the master bedroom.

  “Bring them in.”

  No way. “Can you come to get them?”

  “I’m a little busy, James, okay? Bring them in.”

  I gulped down my apprehension and prepared myself to wipe any and all details of the room from my mind as soon as it was over.

  Lord, how the sweet sickly smell hit me! I almost ran from the room. However, my eyes fixed on the form laying on the bed. Mrs. Bell’s face was far from her cute self. I couldn’t ever look at her the same after that night. Maybe if I’d been older, it would’ve been different. Maybe.