Her outburst was followed again by a hushing sound that could only have been his father. It seemed they had come for him as well. At the sound of the woman’s voice Max Harris grimaced and glanced back at the doorway behind him. Lenny took the opportunity to shift to his left half a step and now stood directly between Harris and Danny, at least for the moment blocking the man’s view of the teen. Danny was trapped, he was the farthest from the door which was the only way out of the small dirty room. But even as he considered his escape Danny glanced down at the needle full of heroin that still hung from his arm. He was just a small squeeze of a plunger away from the relief he so desperately needed. But Danny knew that if he gave into that urge now that when he awoke, it would be in a padded cell with nothing but 40 hours of withdrawal to look forward to.
“Where is Danny Richards?” Harris asked, now looking at the dope dealer, but leaving his gun pointed at Spider.
“So, Mr. Harris. Would I be right in assuming you are only interested in finding young Danny? And that any other perhaps questionable activities you may run across would be…overlooked?” Lenny asked, and Danny could tell the dealer was stalling for time.
Danny reached down and grabbed ahold of the syringe. For the briefest of moments, he considered squeezing the plunger but then gritting his teeth he steadied himself and with a tug pulled the needle free of his arm. Glancing around Danny’s eyes settled on a section of wall at the back corner of the room. There a small section of wall had been burned at some point in the past revealing the wooden slats beneath the plaster. Between the damaged wooden slats, Danny could just make out the narrowest beam of muddled light. Perhaps, Danny hoped, it was a way out.
“I don’t give a shit about anything but getting Danny back to his family,” Harris replied.
Lenny nodded and smiled broadly, “Two thumbs,” he said.
“What?” Max replied in confusion.
“My name, its Lenny Two Thumbs.”
“And?” Max asked.
“Well, you’ll need it for the check. I’m assuming there must be some kind of reward being offered for the young Danny,” Lenny said, now steepling his thumbless hands together.
As slowly and steadily as Danny could manage he lowered himself down to lay flat on the floor. Holding the syringe of precious heroin with a death grip, he began to crawl carefully towards the rooms ruined corner. He left his jacket, his bag and hopefully his parents behind escaping with the only thing that held any value to him now.
“Surely there must be a reward for a boy so highly sought after?” Lenny continued.
The private detective’s confidence wavered for just a moment before he replied. “I wouldn’t know anything about that. Not my department.”
“What does he want?” Danny’s mother shouted from outside.
“Fuck me,” Max mumbled under his breath and then shouted back. “He wants a reward for Danny.”
“He has Danny?” this time it was Danny’s father’s turn to shout out.
“Where is the boy?” Max demanded turning back to the dealer.
Danny reached the back-wall where Lenny’s rotting recliner just managed to hide the boy as long as he stayed low. Danny began to tear at the wall using his fingernails, ripping away chunks of rotten plaster like wet paper. Along with the plaster sections of the damaged and rotting wooden slats started to come away easily in his hands. Very quickly a hole in the wall began to form outlined by the lighter shadows of the night outside.
“The boy is close, and he is as safe as can be, all things considered,” Lenny replied.
“Where?” Max asked.
“How much is the reward?” Lenny shot back.
Max looked annoyed but shouted back over his shoulder, “He wants to know how much?”
“We’ll pay anything!” Danny’s mother shouted in reply.
“That much?” Lenny asked in a mocking tone. But for the first-time Lenny’s smile began to slip as his mind began considering the possibilities.
Max obviously not enthused with negotiating with a drug dealer cut in quickly. “We get proof of life before you see a dime and don’t forget kidnapping is a federal wrap. That alone is enough to send you upstate for the rest of your shitty life.”
“Kidnapping? Mr. Harris you misunderstand,” Lenny said in mocking hurt, “I’m simply offering to help lead you to the wayward boy that is all. Calling upon my intimate knowledge of these dangerous streets. ”
Danny couldn’t see Lenny’s face from where he lay, but he didn’t need to. He could tell the dealer was on the verge of selling him out. Danny’s left hand was bleeding from the fingertips as he continued to pull at the slats in desperation while his right hand still gripped the syringe tightly. Only a few more stubborn wooden slats remained in place barring his escape. Danny finally realized he couldn’t pull the strips of wood free, he would have to break them, and he wouldn’t be able to do it quietly. Danny spun around to lay flat on his back ready to try and kick his way through the remaining slats.
“I demand guarantees,” the drug dealer continued.
“You have them,” Max said quickly.
“No not from you bagman, I want to hear it from those pulling your strings,” came Lenny’s reply.
After a moment of hesitation, Danny’s father stepped through the doorway and into the light. “You have my assurance. We only want Danny back, nothing else matters to us. Once we have him safely home you’ll have your money,” Danny heard his Father say.
“Well in that case,” Lenny said.
The dope dealer rubbed his palms together anxiously, but Danny had heard enough, pulling his legs up to his chest he kicked out desperately at the wall. The first of the wooden slats snapped loudly, and Danny kicked again in earnest. At the sound of the snapping wood, the conversation ceased abruptly. Max’s eyes went wide and his head swept around towards the back of the room followed a second later by Danny’s father. Lenny’s eyes glanced back over his shoulder for a moment at the sound, and he blurted, “So we have a deal then?”
“Danny!” his father screamed.
At the sound of the boy’s name, the room erupted into chaos. Max lowered his gun and struck the drug dealer with a hard-right cross that dropped him like a stone. Danny’s father bolted across the room frantically shouting for his son. A half dozen junkies scattered before him like frightened cockroaches all trying to find an escape. Spider seeing the detective distracted chose that moment to pounce, Max and the thug went down struggling for control of the gun.
Danny kicked and kicked again the jagged opening in the wall growing larger with each strike. He knew he had mere moments before they would be on him before they would try to pry the syringe from his hand. Then with one last desperate kick, several slats gave way at once, the yellowed light of a nearby streetlight came pouring through the opening and Danny made his move. He spun back around onto his stomach and began to crawl through the hole as fast as he could. His head and then his shoulders emerged from the gap, and he smiled as he felt the night rainfall on to his face. Then a set of strong hands wrapped around one of Danny’s ankles.
“Danny don’t go! Please, son, you need help!” he heard his father’s muffled voice call out.
“Let me go!” Danny screamed.
“I can’t do that son!” his father said his voice choked with tears.
The pressure on Danny’s caught leg increased as his father pulled even harder. Danny was already halfway out and now desperately trying to use his arms to keep himself from being pulled back inside. His skinny needle tracked arms almost immediately began to shake. He heard the wall groans in fresh protest, and he knew his Father was now pushing against the wall with his own legs for leverage. It was clear to Danny that he couldn’t win this tug-of-war. His father didn’t need to even pull him back inside he just had to hold him there until his hired man ran around to the outside of the building. So Danny shifted his tactics.
“Dad, daddy,” Danny cried, “you’re hurting me, please let me g
o.”
For the briefest of moments, Danny felt his father’s grip slacken just a bit, it was exactly what he had been counting on. He took a breath already regretting what he was about to do, but then his gaze drifted back down to the syringe still warm in his hand, it was all the reassurance he needed. Danny brought his free foot down hard on his Father’s hand, and even through the rotted wall, he heard the wrist snap. A cry of pain followed, as Danny’s came leg came away free, and he was able to slide the rest of the way through the opening. He was on his feet in a heartbeat and running into the darkness. Behind him his father’s face was just visible through the hole watching him run , he held his broken wrist to his chest and screamed Danny’s name.
The night’s rain seemed to pour down even harder on Danny as he ran through the streets and back alleys. It wasn't long before he found himself completely lost. He wrapped his arms around his chest trying hard to stop himself from shaking, he felt cold, perhaps colder than he had ever been in his entire life. But beneath the cold he knew the shaking was more than just that, he knew he was starting to withdrawal. The syringe was still gripped tightly in his fist his relief literally in the palm of his hand. All he needed now was a safe place, and as he continued to shake, he realized he needed a warm place to shoot up.
The alley down which Danny had been running ended abruptly and opened onto a wide boulevard. He stopped on the sidewalk unsure of which way to go, but certain he was still being pursued. Then across the wide street as if in answer to his prayers he saw an old stone church surrounded by an iron fence. Light poured from the stained-glass windows and outlined a sign above the wooden doors. St. Jude’s Catholic Church the sign read in peeling letters. Danny glanced up and down the street again and finding no other options reluctantly crossed the street.
The doors of the cathedral swung open easily, and Danny ducked inside. He immediately stepped into the shadows of the vestibule ready to bolt out again if need be. No angry shouts or disparaging comment followed, the space was filled with only the sound of Danny’s breathing and the quiet bubbling of holy water in the fountain just inside.
Danny peeked inside and found the small church nearly empty at this time of night with only a few visitors seated in the many rows. An older couple knelt together near the dais praying silently. A man wearing dirty overalls and a reflective vest sat near the far wall and looked tired enough to fall asleep at any moment. The last church patron sat in the very back row closest to Danny and even at a glance he could tell the man lived on streets. Like Danny, he was just searching for a warm place to get out of the rain.
The teen took a breath and made a real effort to stop his shaking. He did his best to stand up straight and then stepped from the shadowed alcove and into the church. Almost as an afterthought he dipped a finger into the holy water and with his damp finger made the sign of the cross as he passed. He couldn’t help but smirk at that. How many years had it been since he had even been inside of a church? He shrugged to himself, old habits he guessed. Danny took a seat in the back row opposite the homeless man putting as much distance between him and everyone else as possible. He curled his knees up to his chest tightly trying to control his shaking. Using a trick, he had learned on the streets Danny let his mind wander and tried to distract himself from the cold.
His eyes scanned the room taking in the high ceiling, the elegant stained-glass, and the rows of flickering candles. Why had his mother stopped insisting that the family go to church? How old had he been? Ten perhaps? A memory came back to him then, a bitter shouting match one Sunday morning. The details he had lost to time, but the look on his mother’s face had remained with him. Still, it was a look of disappointment. She had only brought up going to church a few times after that usually around the holidays, but Danny had never set foot in a church again.
Danny blinked away the memory as the warmth of the room finally started to creep into his limbs. But as his body warmed the pounding in his head steadily increased. He looked down at the syringe he still gripped in his hand and at Lenny’s red tie still wrapped around his upper arm. Relief from the pain, a release from the guilt right in his hand. What would his father think if he could see him now? Would he still think his son was worth saving? His father would be ashamed, and disappointed Danny was sure. He suddenly wondered how badly he had hurt his father trying to escape and tears rolled down his still damp cheek.
Danny glanced around the church trying to blink away his tears. A priest in a dark robe appeared from a doorway at the side of the dais. Silently he moved from candle to candle relighting and replacing them as needed. The teen slumped down as far as he could in the pew trying to hide as much as possible. He held the syringe up watching how the candlelight danced through the dark liquid and shook his head. He suddenly felt very tired, tired of fighting the urge, tired of running. This place would do as good as any, at least here it was warm and safe.
The teen wiped away the tears and then after the barest of hesitation drove the large needle into one of the angry red holes in his right arm. He took a quick breath in anticipation and then slowly squeezed the plunger down barely a finger’s width. In a matter of heartbeats, a warm glow began to flood through him, enveloping him, embracing him. The pounding in his head that had stalked him without mercy throughout the day was instantly gone. His body relaxed going nearly limp, and he slid further down into the pew.
For a few precious moments, he seemed suspended there as if floating in an endless sea of bliss. It was the completeness of it that he loved, no matter what Danny did, no matter who he hurt the drug would wash it all away, at least for a time. But the wave broke and crashed earlier than Danny expected, the calming sea on which he had grown to love quickly vanished. It was now replaced by choppy waves and unpredictable swells. Through the current twisted faces began to appear as if the sea had finally given up its dead.
His mother was the first to rise through the murky waters, her face was stern and in her hands, she held the precious egg. It was her birthright, and he had stolen it away. Tears streamed down her face and mixed with the violent water that swirled and foamed around Danny. He reached out and found the plunger again easing it down a bit farther. The sea immediately calmed, and his mother vanished back into its depths.
For a time, all was right again in Danny’s drug-induced heaven. His eyes were closed tight to try and block out the world. Just then he felt a presence hovering over him. A voice broke through the haze and called out to him, accusing him.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” the voice was deep and rough.
“Nothing, never mind, leave me alone,” was all Danny could mutter in reply.
“Damn it boy, get some help. This is no way to live,” the voice said.
“I’m sorry!” Danny shouted.
“Look at me, open your eyes!” the voice demanded.
The thought seemed abstract to Danny while trapped in the heroin’s embrace. Such a simple thing, opening his eyes, but why should he? Why let the world back in? He was safe and warm here bobbing up and down in this sea of bliss. Rough hands touched Danny’s face forcing him to turn towards the light. A moment later the smell hit him, as a warm wet breath assaulted his nose. A dirty thumbnail pried apart the teen’s eyelids. A monster in the shape of a man loomed over him with a large filthy beard and blackened teeth. Danny screamed and pulled away from the monster’s grasp. He kicked out violently and tried to roll away. For the briefest of moments, he was free and weightless again. Then the teen slammed down hard against the marble floor. His cheek was cold against the stone, but warmth quickly flooded back through his body. In a passing moment of clarity, Danny realized he had landed on top of the needle still sticking in his arm. In the distance he could hear someone shouting, was it him?
“Father, Father, come quick! This boy is in trouble!”
Then the wave of euphoria washed over him and pulled him back out to sea again and away from reality. Danny floated with his head just above the waves susp
ended in a feeling of warmth and reassuring comfort. He was reminded of a day many years ago when he and his family had gone to the beach. The sun had been so warm and the water inviting, but in his joy, he had wandered out farther than he should have. Out there an unseen force had taken ahold of him, a tide that had nearly drowned him. He felt like that now.
It was growing harder to keep his head above the waves, he began to kick his legs as the surging water threatened to overtake him. A rogue wave splashed across his face filling his mouth and nose with brackish water. He coughed and spit and kicked harder trying to arch his back up high enough to catch another breath. Green sea foam splashed up and plastered his face and his chest.
“Open your eyes! Open them!” a strong voice demanded.
“Father?” Danny pleaded.
“Yes, yes my son I’m here. Please open your eyes,” the voice replied now gentler.
His father was there for him, even after all he had done. He had lied, stolen and hurt them but his parents still fought for him, still loved him. Tears began to roll down Danny’s face, and though a fresh wave crashed over him threatening to drown him, he calmed. His father was here for him, his father would save him just like he had that day on the beach. As his heart slowed so did the waves around him. Gradually the warm water cooled and hardened into the cold marble floor of the church. His clothes were still wet he realized; soaked through by his own sweat. Then as the smell of the sea air was replaced by the pungent odor of urine he realized he had pissed himself as well. His mouth held the bitter taste of bile, and it covered most of his chest.
Danny finally relented, slowly opening his eyes. Caked in sweat, his eyes felt gummy at first, and it took a moment for the faces to come into focus. But as the faces that hovered over him became clear he realized it they didn’t belong to his parents. A chubby-faced priest dressed in a dark robe knelt over him, the man’s face was red and dripping sweat.
“Oh, my son! I thought we had lost you there for a moment,” he said smiling down at Danny.
Hell's Highwaymen Page 17