Family Reunion

by Nicholas Sarazen

They both heard it at the same time, a muffled moan. They looked at each other. Satterfield took out his gun again.

  "Where's it coming from?" Hal whispered. There was another moan.

  "There's someone in that cabinet!"

  Hal slipped the blade of the knife behind the hasp and pulled back with both hands. Each time he worked the blade in a little more. "I've almost got it." He gave another tug. The hasp and lock clanked to the floor. "There!" Hal threw open the doors.

  "Stephanie!"

  She fell into Hal's arms. He gently lowered her to the floor, then lifted the blindfold and pulled off the tape.

  "Frank...Hal," she said in a raspy voice, "thank God."

  "Steph, are you all right?" Hal asked as he cut the cords on her wrists and ankles.

  "My head hurts and I'm stiff all over, but I think I'm okay. I've been in the dark for so long that I...Frank! Your shoulder! What happened?"

  "I missed the class on knife-catching." Frank's weak smile failed to mask his pain.

  Stephanie got up and hobbled over to him. She gently moved aside the saturated handkerchief and gasped when she saw his wound. "We've got to get you to a hospital."

  "I'm okay, I'm okay."

  "Steph, do you know what's going on?" Hal asked. "How did you get here?"

  "Someone hit me over the head in my apartment and I woke up in the back of a van. And Cindy Pennington was there, Hal. She's dead."

  "I know," Hal said. He shined the flashlight on Cindy's body near the opposite wall.

  Stephanie could look for only a moment. "What are we all doing here?"

  "They got me just like they did you," Hal said. "But right now we've got to get out of here before they come back."

  "Who are they?" Stephanie asked.

  "Shhh." Frank held a finger to his lips. "Listen."

  They could hear something in the distance, faintly at first, then growing louder as it rumbled closer.

  "That's it," Hal said. "That's the van. What do we do now?"

  "I guess we make a stand." Frank looked down at the knife in Hal's hand. "Can you use that thing if you have to?"

  "Do I have a choice?" Hal asked. He switched off the flashlight.

  The van stopped well in front of the cabin. It sat there, engine running, lights on. After a couple minutes the driver got out. He walked over to the splotches of blood on the ground.

  "Hunter!" he called out. "What's going on? What'd you do?"

  "Police!" Frank yelled from the open door. "Don't move!" He had the man in the open sights of his Smith & Wesson. "Now put your hands on top of your head."

  The man started to raise his hands, then bolted for the van. Frank fired a shot, but his unsteadiness caused the bullet to zing high through the trees. The man climbed into the van and shifted it into reverse. It started backward. Frank fired three more shots and the windshield shattered. The van careened into a tree, the back wheels settling into a rut. It rocked back and forth several times, but couldn't break free.

  Frank kept his gun aimed at the van. He was breathing heavily now.

  "Hal," Stephanie said, "do you think this is happening because of the reunion? They kill Cindy, then kidnap us. Maybe it's some sort of revenge."

  "Hold on." Frank looked at her. "What reunion? What are you talking about?"

  "I was going to tell you, Frank, but I was afraid you wouldn't understand. This past weekend we had a reunion of some of the people I interviewed for the series."

  "The Family?" Frank asked. "You had a re--"

  A shot rang out and a bullet buried itself in the frame above the cabin door.

  "Get down!" Frank squeezed off two shots.

  "Did you see someone?" Hal asked.

  "No, I just want to keep them inside that van."

  For the next several minutes there was no sound except for Frank's labored breathing. He then started moaning.

  "Frank, are you okay?" Stephanie asked.

  "I'm hangin' in there."

  Hal grabbed Stephanie's arm. "Do you hear that?"

  "Sirens!"

  "All right!" Hal said, shaking his fist.

  They listened as the sirens drew closer. The thick buffer of trees made it difficult to judge distances, but the sirens grew loud, then started to fade.

  "They went on by! It sounds like they went on by!"

  "They probably can't find the road," Frank said in a whisper. "I gave Tony directions, but this place would be hard to find in the daytime, let alone at night." He took several shallow breaths. "Gang, I'm not feelin' so hot." He lay on his back, shivering, near the doorway. Stephanie crawled over to him and had started to raise his head when he went limp.

  "Frank!" She leaned down and put her ear over his mouth.

  "Is he...okay, Steph?" Hal asked.

  "He's still breathing, but I think he's going into shock. We've got to do something or he'll bleed to death."

  "What can we do?"

  "I'm going for help."

  "You can't, Steph. Those people are armed."

  "I'm not going to sit here and let Frank die. I'm going to run down to the highway and flag down those cops." She took the gun from Frank's hand and gave it to Hal. "You have to cover me."

  "Steph, I can't see ten feet in front of me. I don't have my contacts."

  "Terrific. All right, help me with Frank." Together they moved Frank away from the doorway. "Okay," she said, "now lie down on your stomach."

  "Why?"

  "Just do it."

  Hal stretched out on the floor. Stephanie got down beside him and pointed the gun at the van. She leaned closer and peered along the barrel.

  "Good enough," she said. "Now don't move it, Hal. I don't want you shooting me in the back. Are you ready?"

  "As ready as I'll ever be. You be careful, Steph."

  She patted his shoulder. "I will." She moved to the right side of the door. "Okay, let 'em have it." She burst out of the cabin.

  She had not taken five steps when she heard two clicks behind her.

  "Damn! Steph, come back! The gun's empty!"

  She knew it was too late. If she stopped she'd be a sure target for the guy in the van. She dashed for the weeds on her left. A bullet chipped the tree bark next to her head and she dove for the ground.

  "Miss Stephanie!"

  She looked up to see Weasel charging at her from out of the weeds. He ran to where she lay.

  "Where did he get you, Miss Stephanie? Are you hurt bad?"

  "Weasel! What're you doing here?" She started to get to her feet when another shot rang out. Weasel's hands flew from her shoulders as he was knocked backward. He staggered a couple of steps, then fell to the ground.

  "Weasel!" Stephanie scrambled over to where he lay. Blood poured from a wound in his side. "Oh, Weasel." There was another shot, and she quickly pulled him behind several clustered pines. She cradled his head on her lap.

  "I'm sorry, Miss Stephanie. I messed up, didn't I?"

  "No you didn't, Weasel."

  His face was full of pain, but somehow he was able to smile at her for a moment. He then grimaced and clutched his side. "I think I'm hurt bad, Miss Stephanie." His eyes fluttered.

  "You can't give up, Weasel. Do you hear me?"

  "I ain't givin' up," he said in a faint voice, "but I don't think I'm gonna be able to talk myself out of this one."

  Her tears fell on their clasped hands. "Weasel, try to hold on. I'm going for help."

  "Miss Stephanie--" There was a rattling deep in his chest. He doubled up and coughed blood. "Can you...can you do somethin' for me?"

  "Anything, Weasel. What is it?"

  "Will you see that I'm buried next to my momma?"

  "Weasel, you're not going to--"

  He coughed again. His chest rose, and then there was the sound of air softly passing through his lips. His face showed he was finally at peace with the world he never quite fit into.

  Stephanie wiped her tears with her sleeve. She folded Weasel's arms across his chest and kissed his forehe
ad. Then she was up and racing through the weeds.

  Once she was out of sight of the van she cut over and picked up the dirt road. When she reached the highway she soon found herself in the bright headlights of one of the cruisers that had turned around. She filled in the officers on the situation and climbed into the back seat. The officer at the wheel radioed for an ambulance. Donelli jumped out of another cruiser that had just pulled up. He got in with Stephanie and the cruiser led the way up the dirt path with three others close behind.

  When they reached the clearing, Stephanie and the officers scrambled out and took cover behind the cars. The officers waited, shotguns and revolvers trained on the van.

  "Give it up," Donelli called out. "You don't have a chance."

  For several moments it was silent. Then there was a flash from the van and a cruiser's window exploded. The officers responded with a long burst of gunfire. When they stopped shooting, the side of the van was pockmarked by dozens of dimpled holes.

  The officers waited. There was no noise or movement. One of them stepped out from behind a cruiser as the others gave cover. He ran up to the van and flung open the side door. He shook his head at the other officers and holstered his gun.

  When Donelli and Stephanie got to Frank he was still unconscious. Several officers carried Frank outside into the clearing. Two of them began working on him to stop the bleeding.

  "Come on, Stephanie," Donelli said. "We'll just be in the way." He took her arm and led her toward the van. "Jesus, I hope he makes it."

  "He has to, Tony," Stephanie said softly, her eyes filled with tears. "He just has to." She kept looking back toward Frank as they walked.

  "What in the hell went on here?" Donelli asked when they were beside the van. "Who's in there?"

  Stephanie rubbed her eyes. Now that it was over she could feel herself trembling. "I don't know. I don't know anything right now."

  Several officers were looking over the van. The driver's door was open and the spotlights on the cruisers lit up the inside. They saw a man's body slumped over on the floor. The light reflected off a blue-steel revolver in his right hand. There were bleeding holes in the man's arm, neck, and torso. Donelli lifted his head.

  "Do you know him?"

  Stephanie turned away. "This can't be. It's Gerry Meharis. He was in The Family."

  A woman's body was wedged face-down between the two front seats, her blonde hair tousled about. Donelli raised the dead woman's head and turned her face toward Stephanie. Blood trickled from a hole in the woman's cheek.

  Stephanie looked, then covered her eyes. "It's Treva. Treva Billingsley."

  Chapter 41

  Stephanie had just said good-bye to her father and had hung up the phone when she heard someone knocking. After looking through the peephole she turned the dead bolt and unchained the door.

  "Jessie. Come on in."

  Her landlady gave her a hug. "You look bushed. Did you get any sleep at all?"

  "No, there just wasn't time. Frank went into surgery right after I called you and I wanted to be there when he woke up. I wouldn't have been able to sleep anyway. I just came home to shower and change, then I'm going back to the hospital."

  "How is he feeling this morning?"

  "He's still very weak and in a lot of pain. But he should be okay. The doctor doesn't think he'll have any permanent damage."

  "I'm so glad to hear that. He seems like such a nice man."

  "He is. Sit down, I'll put on some coffee."

  Jessie pulled out a kitchen chair and gestured to Stephanie. "You sit. Let me make it." She took the canister from the back of the counter.

  "I suppose you've heard what they're saying on television?" Stephanie closed her eyes. "I feel so guilty, Jessie. This whole thing is my fault."

  "Nonsense! No one is blaming you."

  "But they should. If I hadn't brought The Family together, none of this would have happened."

  Jessie came over and took Stephanie's hand in hers. "Honey, I learned a long time ago that some things just happen in this old world, things over which we have no control. The only way you should judge yourself is by your intentions. If your intentions are good, there should be no guilt, no matter what happens."

  "But that doesn't help Weasel...or Frank. I'm the one who got those people together. It just wouldn't have happened if it weren't for me."

  "Stephanie, Stephanie. Sometimes I think I remember what you write better than you do."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Remember when you wrote about that downtown shelter? The man there said something to the effect that you can't blame the shelter when someone who lives there does something wrong. He was right, and that's how you should look at what happened last night. It wasn't because of you. You were just doing your job, nothing more. What took place afterward was not your doing."

  Stephanie squeezed the old woman's hand. "I know you're trying to help, Jessie, and I appreciate it. I just hope someday I can convince myself you're right."

  Stephanie glanced up and saw Barbara Moran walking into the lobby. She hurried over to her. There was a moment's pause as they looked into each other's eyes, then they embraced.

  "Thanks for coming," Stephanie said. "I've really needed to talk to someone."

  "I'm glad you called. I didn't feel like working today anyway."

  "Let's go outside," Stephanie said. "I've got to get out of here. Hospitals get to me after awhile."

  They found a picnic table in a grassy area adjacent to the employee parking lot. They were alone except for three nurses at another table about thirty feet away.

  "I just don't know what to think, Barbara. It's all so confusing."

  "I know. Treva and Dirk were in The Family at different times than I was, so I didn't know them before Friday. But they seemed nice enough. Gerry was kind of obnoxious, but he sure didn't come across as a killer. What possible reason could they have had for kidnapping you and Hal? And to murder Cindy and that psychologist? It all seems so senseless."

  "I don't even know why they were still in town. Cindy was supposed to take them to the airport on Sunday." Stephanie watched an ant struggle with a crumb on top of the table.

  "Who was that Eddie Messina they're talking about in the papers? They said he was in The Family, too, but I never heard of him."

  "You would have known him as Weasel."

  "Weasel?" Barbara's brow furrowed. "That doesn't sound familiar at all."

  Stephanie looked at her, puzzled. "But surely you remember Weasel. He talked about you like he knew you very well."

  "Really? What did he look like?" Barbara asked.

  "He was short, thin, had brown hair...I don't know how else to describe him."

  Barbara shook her head. "A lot of them were short and thin and had brown hair. That doesn't help much."

  "Wait a minute. I think I still have it with me." Stephanie reached into her purse and got out her recorder. She found the right cassette and inserted it. "I have him on tape. Maybe you'll recognize his voice." She pushed the play button and looked at Barbara when the tape started. An eerie feeling came over her when she heard her own voice asking Weasel for directions to Xeno's cabin. Weasel went through one of his agonizing coughs, and in her mind Stephanie could see the gum flying out of his mouth and landing on the dash of her car. He started giving the directions.

  "It's been a long time, Stephanie, but I'd never forget a cough like that. That's Xeno."

  "Xeno? No, Barbara, that can't be right. Listen closely."

  Barbara shut her eyes and concentrated. When she opened them again she shrugged. "No mistake. I'm positive--that's Xeno."

  The tape continued to play, and everything that had happened since Stephanie met Weasel ran through her mind in a kaleidoscope of confusion. Sights and sounds and emotions flashed by like a movie projector gone berserk. There was no chance for her to sort it out, to make sense of any of it. She could only sit helplessly and watch as the film raced faster and faster.

  "Ste
phanie? Are you all right?"

  Barbara's voice pulled her back to the present. Stephanie shook her head. "I'm not really sure."

  "What is it? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

  "Maybe I have." Stephanie shut off the tape recorder. "Barbara, I want to know about Weasel...Xeno. Tell me everything you can remember."

  "Well, like you said, he was short and real skinny--almost skeletal. And he had long, stringy brown hair. But that cough of his. It was awful. He told us the army had done some secret experiments near where he lived and that he had developed a rare disease that made him cough like that. I never knew whether to believe him or not. It wasn't so much that he was lying, it was more like he just wanted you to think he was something he wasn't."

  "Was he...was he a violent person?" Stephanie asked, thinking of the story about Lonesome Lou in Griffith Park.

  "Xeno? He was one of the gentlest people I've ever known. He never would have hurt anyone."

  "So The Family wasn't afraid of him?"

  "Heavens no! If anything, the feeling was one of indifference. Xeno tried very hard to fit in, but nobody really paid a whole lot of attention to him. He wasn't exactly dumb, but there was something about him that wasn't quite right. He did have this amazing memory, though. He never seemed to forget anything. He used to take care of everybody's driver's licenses, social security cards, credit cards, things like that. He'd hide them so if the police raided The Haven it would be harder to identify us. We'd be sitting around talking and he'd say that somebody's birthday was coming up, or if a particular town was mentioned he'd say so-and-so was from there. He'd seen that information on a driver's license or something, and he apparently had committed it to memory." Barbara's mouth dropped open. "Wait a minute. That's how you found me, isn't it? Through Xeno."

  Chapter 42

  Stephanie's eyes were hidden by dark glasses. Hal sat on her left, Colonel Willis on her right. All the other chairs in the small chapel were empty.

  It was a simple ceremony. The minister's remarks were generic and brief. When it was over, Stephanie asked Hal and Colonel Willis to wait outside for her.

  She slipped quietly into the viewing room to say her final farewell. The upper part of the casket was open. He was clean-shaven. His hair had been washed and cut and was parted neatly on the side. He had a look of solemn dignity in the new suit she had bought for him to wear to the reunion. She stood there in silence for several minutes, lost in thoughts and memories.