by Brian Hodge
Jack frowned and set the near-empty can beside the sofa.
“Or maybe you’d rather I left Erika in there,” she pressed.
Rich heaved a sigh. “Nobody wanted that, Diane. Nobody wanted her back here any more than I did.”
“Nobody’s minimizing what you did last night either,” Jack said. “It’s just that you’ve put all of us in a very tricky position. A very dangerous one.”
Diane tipped her head, incredulous, and barked a derisive laugh. “I’ve put us there? Come on, Jack, open your eyes. We were already there. For months. Anytime they think they can stroll in and tell us to be somewhere, or haul one of us away, that’s being in a dangerous position.”
“I have to agree with her there.” Rich tugged up the bottom of his shirt, exposing a hairy belly, and used the cloth to wipe the sheen of sweat from his face. “Already heating up in here today,” he muttered, then smoothed his shirt back. “However, I do think we’re taking a little too much for granted. We got Erika back, and we’ve got him. Okay. But there’s no way they have of knowing that. Travis is just gone, and if they haven’t noticed him missing by now, they will soon, but there’s no way for them to immediately link that with us. Same with Erika. Nothing leads back here. You have to admit, one of us walking right in and taking the two of them out from under their noses has to be the last thing any of them would expect.”
Jack nodded. “But how long will it be before one of them gets the crazy notion that that’s exactly what happened? It doesn’t matter if they believe it or not. As long as they consider it feasible enough to check into, we’re screwed.”
They all pondered this in silence, and even Diane had to nod.
“Anyway. We’re straying from the main issue,” Jack said. “What do we do with him?”
Another round of silence. Beyond them, Nicholas and Farrah had engaged in a noisy argument. Farrah called him an immature dweeb, he retaliated, and then Colleen entered the picture as referee. While Jack’s question still hung in the air like frozen breath.
“If no one wants to bring up the obvious, I’ll do it.” Rich laced his fingers together, flexed and unflexed them. “Umm…we…execute him.”
The three of them traded furtive glances, looking from eyes to their laps and back again, as if afraid to venture forth an opinion one way or another.
Finally Jack shook his head. “I can’t see doing that. I mean, the man’s done enough to deserve the death penalty several times over, the way things used to be, but…I just can’t see us drawing lots to make up a firing squad.”
Diane gave a short, ironic laugh. “Neither can I.”
“I know. That’s not what we’re about,” Rich said. “If we did that, what difference would there be between us and them? We might as well all join hands and go on over like Ted and Wendy did.”
“I suppose we could hang on to him indefinitely,” Diane said. “Last night I told him he was our insurance policy for getting out of Union Station okay. Well, suppose we keep him as a kind of long-term insurance for getting out of St. Louis okay. Until Jason comes back and we head south.”
“That’s another thing.” Jack stooped to retrieve his pears and started on the last few chunks. “It’s been over five months. One of these days we’re going to have to consider the fact that he may not be coming back. Ever.”
“One crisis at a time, okay?” Rich massaged his heavy cheeks, rubbed his eyes with fingertips. “You know, I’ve been thinking, running something over in my head. It’s a short-term solution, but things may get to a point that it’s our only option. We clear out of Brannigan’s entirely and move someplace else. Someplace where they couldn’t find us right away.”
“That’s a little drastic, isn’t it?” Diane said.
“Yup.”
“Do you have someplace in mind?” Jack asked.
“I do.” Rich nodded, then shrugged, as if to say he’d done his best and they could take it or leave it. “Back when I was working for Brenton Pharmaceutical, there was a shipping outlet I used sometimes. On the south side, way down on Jefferson Avenue, I think. It doesn’t match what we’ve got here, but it’d do for a while, in a pinch. It’s got a big garage, lots of storage space. The outer offices have a good-sized skylight. It’s pretty close to the river. Enough places around to scavenge food from. Probably have to bunk in sleeping bags on the floor, and lose some privacy, but…anyway, that’s my idea.”
Jack nodded and Diane remained impassive, but neither voted against it, and that, at least, was something. A moment later they began a calm debate on the pros and cons of leaving, one that lasted for nearly half an hour but left nothing settled.
And all the while, Travis sat bound upstairs under guard, quietly clenching and unclenching his fists, learning the virtues of patience and keeping himself entertained by imagining endless scenes of unbridled revenge.
* *
It was shortly after noon, and outside the sun was reaching another August zenith. In her room, Diane knew she could get to cooler places within the confines of the building, but felt too lazy to get up and seek them out.
And I just want to be alone.
She wore shorts and a halter top and lay on her bed, every few moments feeling the wet trickle of a bead of sweat. These days you’d lose your sanity if you minded sweat, but she never had. It had made her something of an oddity among her circle of old friends back in Connecticut, most of whom would’ve preferred ritual suicide than to be seen breaking sweat in public. Sweaty, sticky…big deal. Sometimes it made her feel horny.
Ah, Travis, why couldn’t you have been a fat slob?
In retrospect, the toughest part of last night hadn’t been working up the courage to enter the lion’s den of their arena, or walking the halls of the Omni with Erika propped against her shoulder—it had been approaching the brink of sex with Travis and then pulling back the reins. Easier said than done, when the need was there.
Her hand was resting on her stomach, and it was beginning to stray south when a tentative tapping sounded at her door. She frowned, tempted to announce that she was trying to sleep and under no circumstances wanted to be disturbed.
Yeah, and watch me go out later and find they’ve all moved.
“Come on in,” she called.
The door opened a foot she saw big wide eyes and long sandy hair held back with barrettes. A skinny, coltish leg appeared next.
“Hi Farrah.” Diane smiled an invitation; okay, this interruption was allowed.
“I can come in?” the girl asked.
“You? Anytime.” Diane swung upright and dangled her legs off the bed, patted the covers next to her. Farrah swept in and sat beside her.
“I haven’t talked to you for a couple days,” she said. “I’ve missed you.”
“Looks like I can fit you into my schedule today,” Diane said. “Something on your mind?”
“Not really.” Farrah drew up her legs and folded them underneath her on the bed, hunched with elbows on knees. “I used to think Colleen was my best friend here. I don’t know. Now, maybe, I guess it’s you.”
“Nothing against Colleen, though.”
“Oh no! Colleen’s great, and all that, but…it’s like you’re really yourself with me. Like, with her I’m always gonna be a kid.”
Diane leaned back and laughed. “You are a kid.”
“I guess. But you always manage to let me forget it.”
Diane felt a glowing warmth welling up within, felt it showing on her face. Felt a piece of herself coming alive again after a long, dormant sleep since last fall, since Denver.
“Colleen says you had a daughter once, about my age.” Farrah said it lightly, softly, walking on eggshells.
Diane closed her eyes and nodded. Opened them again and smiled. “I did. Her name was Tracey. And yeah, she’d be about your age.” Feeling somehow soothed by the maternal tone
in her own voice, Diane almost got tickled by the contrast…this complete reversal of the flippant bitch she’d played last night for Travis. “Let’s see. She was pretty, like you are, and she had a tendency to slouch, just like you’re doing now.”
Farrah straightened as if a rod had been jammed down her back.
“I think she would’ve been tall, taller than me, at least, and I bet you will be too. But hmmm, the hair, no, that’s not the same at all. Tracey’s was dark and sort of curly. She had her father’s hair. And she could get a suntan in five minutes.” Diane cocked her head to one side. “Did you like Boy George?”
Farrah wrinkled her nose. “Gag.”
Diane shook her head. “You two would’ve clashed over that. Tracey was nuts over him. Personally, I’m on your side.” They had a laugh over this, and when they quieted down, Diane said, “And you know, she always seemed to sense when I could use a hug.”
Their eyes met, and an uneven grin played across Farrah’s face, speckled with freckles and, on her forehead, a single pimple. Then she scooted across and wrapped her arms around Diane, and they swayed gently.
“I’m glad you’re around,” Farrah said.
Diane squeezed harder. If only you knew how good it feels from my side of it, girl.
“Do you think I’ll ever have a boyfriend?” she asked out of the blue.
Diane drew back and sputtered delighted laughter. Now they were getting to it, something on her mind after all. “So boys aren’t disgusting anymore?”
“They never were. They were just sort of jerks is all.”
“But not now.”
“I don’t know any boys now. Except for Nicky, and he’s still a jerk, but he can’t help it.” Farrah dropped her gaze to the bedspread, peering at it from one angle, then another. “And Jason…he was always kind of fun to be around.”
Uh-oh, crush time. “Farrah, my dear, Jason’s more than a little too old for you.”
“I know, I know.”
“Besides, you’d have to fight Erika for him. And I bet she really knows how to yank out a head of hair.”
Diane couldn’t seem to wipe that silly grin off her face. Oh, to be thirteen again, just for a day, when the most innocuous comment and the most innocent glance held the power to lift you to ecstatic heights or crush you to miserable depths.
“Sometimes I sit around and I have these daydreams,” Farrah said. “And it’s just like in the fairy tales, you know? I’ll be in trouble and this boy will come along and save me. Or he’ll be trapped someplace and things look awful for him, and I’ll come along and save him. And he’ll be so happy and we’ll fall in love and we’ll go away and nobody can keep us apart.” She crinkled her nose. “Stupid, huh?”
Diane scooted closer to her and tossed an arm around her shoulders. “I know it’s hard, but just a little more patience might be in order for you,” she said softly. “You know why?”
Farrah shook her head.
“Because Jason’ll come back one of these days, and he’ll tell us about someplace he’s found. And we’ll all pack up and move to Florida or Georgia or Texas or someplace like that, and we’ll have a real home again. You can live with me if you want.” She could feel Farrah nod against her shoulder. “And there’ll be boys there, trust me. Then someday when you haven’t been there very long at all, some boy’s going to come along and do something incredibly stupid right in front of you, trying to impress you. And then you’ll know.”
Farrah looked up at her with big, trusting eyes. “Know what?”
“That I was right all along, and that you shouldn’t ever have been worried.”
They hugged again, and for the first time Farrah told Diane that she loved her, and Diane said the same went for her too. Then Farrah scooted off the bed, tossing her hair behind her with a flourish and bouncing out the door. Diane sank back to the bed, curling into a content, radiant ball and flirting with sleep again.
Except Diane had no way of knowing about the questions that still burned in Farrah’s mind. Deeper questions, scary in a mysterious way…things she was just too embarrassed to bring up. How could she ask about them when she didn’t even like to think about them?
About the sight that had lodged in her mind’s eye, and wouldn’t go away.
* *
A dull headache throbbed at Erika’s temples, but if it was the worst ailment she could complain of, she was doing pretty well. Like Diane, she was stretched out in her room, tossing atop the covers without much clothing in an effort to combat the heat of the day. Like Diane, she was losing.
The past week was mostly a blur, like a long-term drunken binge. Things were half remembered, some dreamlike, waiting to be triggered into memory by a key word or thought. Others were gone forever, buried too deep to see daylight again. She felt hung over, as if weights were hanging from her body, movement going better when she thought it out in advance.
But the worst aspects of a drunken binge were the parts you could remember and wished you didn’t.
Like Solomon and his cold metal prod. The violation as he’d inflicted his own warped amusements on her. There had been no bleeding or discharge since then, so he’d apparently not done any lasting damage to her. Maybe he’d taken a tissue sample. Or maybe it was just a cruel bluff. He was sick enough to think it funny.
Just the same, whenever Jason came back—and he would—and they migrated south, her top priority would be to consult the first real doctor they encountered for an examination. Just to be sure. Safe.
A couple hours after Solomon had left her, an older woman came in, brusque but at least she wasn’t brutal. She’d untied Erika long enough for her to squat over a bedpan and slip back into her jeans. And then came another shot, the second of many she would receive from them. To keep her quiet, keep her from being a bother.
Thorazine, the woman had told her, and she’d welcomed it for its insulating factor, the cushion between her and the memory of Solomon and his hateful invasion of her. She’d never be rid of it, no matter what the future held. Those endless minutes would always claim a little part of her. Always and forever.
She wished she could cry it out in Jay’s arms, and someday she would. Someplace safe, far away. She wouldn’t hit him with it as soon as he returned. He’d no doubt have more than enough to deal with. Until then, if she needed to, she could lean on Pam, on Diane, on Colleen, maybe even Caleb. But for now it would remain her secret, kept for the good of all.
It was the loneliest feeling in the world. But she’d manage.
It would be her investment in the future.
7
The reality of what was happening in St. Louis had come crashing back in on him with the force of an avalanche. For a time, Jason had thought it possible that he might be able to leave all the bad times in the past, to collect dust until it buried them. Now he knew that the privilege of forgetting would have to be fought for, just like everything else.
They were still cleaning up the carnage from the botched raid on Heywood when Jason knew he’d have to hit the road again. Never mind that he still didn’t feel up to par, that his leg and shoulder ached to the bone again, that he wanted to crawl into bed and sleep the clock around once or twice. But it was time to roll: Hagar’s body hadn’t been found in the wreckage of the truck, or anywhere else. As the truck had careened along behind the houses, he must have jumped clear while everyone’s attention had been drawn out front. Which meant that to be on the safe side for everyone concerned in St. Louis, Jason had to beat him back. And if he couldn’t do that, at least make it a close second.
“Don’t be an idiot, Jason,” Gil said out in the street. The cleanup was almost over, but no one seemed to feel like going back in. One dog dead, one man dead, another man likely heading in that direction, and one side of Molly Silva’s face was a swollen purple bruise thanks to the butt of a shotgun. They’d all been ravaged by som
ething they’d hoped to leave out in the rest of the world.
“My mind’s made up,” Jason said.
Gil shook his head and eyed him harshly. “Look at you. You look like hell. You’re in no shape to head back again now.”
Then he’s gonna love this next part. “I was wondering if I could ask another favor. I’d like to take enough gasoline with me to be sure to get me there. I want to drive it straight through, and I don’t want to have to worry about siphoning all the way back. Twenty extra gallons should do it. And I’ll need coffee. Or pills.”
Gil scowled down at his boot tips. In the distance, plumes of lazy smoke rose from what remained of the burned-out truck. “If you want it that bad, okay.” He spat, shook his head again. “Shit. What a mess.”
“I’m sorry all this followed me here, Gil. I really am.” So far he hadn’t looked closely at the men and dog the raiders had shot. He’d heard the names, and hadn’t recognized them, but their faces would be another story. Faces would haunt him for the entire 800-mile trip.
“Yeah,” Gil said, his voice flat and distant. “Jason. Listen to me. I want to tell you something. Two tours of duty in Vietnam and I never saw a man treated like what I saw happen over there.” He pointed toward the lake, where Lucas’ corpse was still waiting to be scraped up, now a feast for fat green flies. “That’s a side of you I wouldn’t have guessed existed.”
Jason stood quietly still a moment, leaning on the cane. “He was in retreat, Gil. He was backing off when you gave the order to blow that truck. Isn’t that kind of like shooting a man in the back?”
Indignant, Gil straightened to his full height. “I had the welfare of everyone here in mind when I did that.”
“For my part, so did I.”