“People get skin cancer all the time,” Zeb's mom had sobbed as they rode the bus that morning. “You just go to the doctor and have it treated. Louise spotted it real early. She could have just had it frozen off. Zap—that's it.”
Instead, all the prayers in the world, all the faith in the world hadn't been able to save Louise, and she had died a slow, painful death. Funny, thought Zeb, Louise was the mother of Zeb's wife, Suzanne, the one he'd screwed and been forced to marry. In spite of all the pain Suzanne had experienced over her mother's death, however, she still hadn't wanted to take her own baby to a doctor. The Elders and her father had prevailed, placing a drop of oil on the baby's forehead, and then telling Suzanne and Zeb to pray to God the Father and God the Son. When the child failed to improve, The Elders had asserted that it was their fault, Suzanne and Zeb's. They just didn't have enough faith. They just had to pray more, believe more.
Well, bullshit. Who cared if Suzanne's own father was head of The Congregation, there was no way in hell that bastard was God's Apostle on earth. Hell no. He was Satan. Zeb's baby girl just had a chronic, low-grade infection in her middle ear. That was why she was so cranky and crabby.
“You should have brought her in sooner, because from the looks of it this has been going on for a while,” said the doctor Zeb had taken her to right after they'd fled The Congregation. “What that means is that we're going to be fairly aggressive with one particular antibiotic. It's rather expensive, but we want this to clear up as soon as possible.”
Zeb had wanted to tell Suzanne about his plans to take Ribka to a doctor, he'd thought about asking her to run away with him, but he just couldn't tell what she'd think, say, or do. Supposedly they were married, but he really didn't know her—not what she really wanted anyway. So rather than jeopardize the baby's safety and health—The Elders would have locked Zeb up in the bakery basement if they'd found out he was planning to kidnap the baby—Zeb had kept his plans a secret, encouraged only by his mother in Santa Fe.
He'd done the right thing too. He'd known that when he was less than a mile away from the compound; he was positive as soon as he'd taken Ribka to the doctor. Maybe sometime soon he'd call Suzanne and apologize, but little Ribka was more important than anything, and he hugged her gently, kissed the top of her head. She was getting her medication, the infection was clearing up, and she was fine, just fine, sleeping peacefully, eating well. What a relief. Yes, there was a God. Or there probably was. But it certainly wasn't theirs.
There was just one more problem. After tonight where were they going to sleep?
Okay, so now he couldn't go back to Janice's, and he doubted he could go back to that tiny rat hole of an apartment he'd rented. Brother Paul, that King Kong of a jerk, was in Minneapolis, and if there were other members of The Congregation here, sooner or later they'd find him. Which meant, Zeb realized, that he was going to have to take off, leave Minneapolis completely. Maybe the storm would slow things down, give him a little extra time so he could at least collect his first paycheck from the hospital. Maybe Brenda might even know of a place where he could crash for a while. Sure, he hardly knew her, but she was nice, she probably would help. Just look at what she'd done for him tonight. Not only had she been the one to steal the medicine, she'd also suggested that Zeb and Ribka sleep in the laundry room so they wouldn't have to go back out in the winter storm.
Someone knocked on the door and Zeb immediately stiffened. Two taps, a pause, three taps. Good, all was safe. It was her, Brenda, and he couldn't help but wonder why she'd come back so soon. Dinner? She'd said she was going to try to scrounge up something for him. Maybe she had, and maybe she'd even brought something for herself and he would have some company.
When the door opened, he looked up with a smile and said softly, “Hi, I was just thinking about you.”
She quickly slipped in, pulled the door shut, locked it, and turned to him with a worried expression creasing her brow. Oh, God, he thought. He feared what was up. The Congregation was just that conniving.
“Don't tell me they're here already?” he said.
“I don't know if it's them, those guys from that cult or whatever, but there are two guys upstairs looking for you,” said Brenda, obviously concerned, even scared. “They came up on the third floor and asked some of the nurses if we'd seen you tonight.”
“Oh, no. This is bad, really bad.”
“Yeah, and they even had a picture they were showing around. They asked if I knew you, but I lied. One of the other nurses, though, well, she said she thought she'd seen you around earlier this evening.”
“Shit.” Zeb clenched his forehead with one hand. “I can't stay here. I gotta go, I gotta get out of here.”
“No, I think you'll be okay,” countered Brenda. “I just wanted to come down and tell you so you'd stay in here, so you wouldn't go out in the hall.”
“No, you don't know them. They won't give up until they'll find me. They're like bloodhounds. And if they're this close, they're going to search the whole building.”
“Zeb, I—”
“What if Ribka wakes up and she starts crying? What if one of them is right out in the hall?” Zeb started pushing himself out of the nest of laundry bags. “I gotta get out of here right now.”
“But—”
“Brenda, they'll beat the shit out of me if they catch me. And…they'll take her, little Ribka. That's what they want, what they came for. They'll probably kill me, but they'll take her.”
“What about the police, maybe you should go to them?”
“Yeah, right, and be arrested for kidnapping?”
“But she's your daughter,” pleaded Brenda, “and she would've gotten sicker if you hadn't gotten her away from them.”
“Trust me, I've thought of every angle.”
“So where are you going to go?”
“I don't know. I don't think I can go back to my apartment. If they're all the way out here at the hospital, then for sure they've already been there. I just don't get how they could've found me so quickly.”
“Well,” said Brenda, glancing around, “there's always my place. I guess that'd be okay. I'm here all night, but I don't think my roommate would mind. There's no way they could find you there.”
He looked up at her. “Not if I get out of here without being seen.”
“Relax,” said Rawlins as the two of them rode the elevator down. “It wasn't so hard finding him.”
“What are you talking about?” countered Todd with a distinct frown. “We haven't found him yet.”
“Well, at least we know for sure that he works here. Don't worry, we'll find him tomorrow. First thing in the morning we'll come out and talk to the personnel department. They'll have an address for him.”
“What if it's a P.O. box or something?”
“Then we'll just have to wait until he shows up for work. If he was here earlier tonight, then he works a late shift and he'll probably be here tomorrow afternoon. You'll see.”
The elevator doors opened on the ground floor and Todd started out, unable to hide his frustration. Sure, they needed to find Zeb to tell him that the baby had been taken and see if he could help locate the child. But most of all Todd wanted to see Zeb, meet him face to face, look into his eyes.
They headed to the left, down the long quiet hall and toward the front doors. Realizing how sore he was from the scuffle at Janice's, Todd felt himself moving slower and slower.
“You look exhausted,” said Rawlins, placing a reassuring hand on Todd's shoulder. “Let's get you home so you can rest.”
Todd nodded and managed a smile, for this was what he liked about Rawlins, not simply his ability to read Todd, but the ease with which he offered comfort. Comfort that Todd not only found easy to accept, but for the first time in his life, easy to return.
“Thanks, but I can't go home,” said Todd. “We should head back to Janice's. I'm sure she's a wreck.”
“So let's spend the night there—she's got plenty of room.”
/>
“Okay.”
They proceeded down the hall in silence, passing a closed gift shop, another hallway, the lone receptionist sitting behind the counter. Farther down they came to the hospital guard, a lanky older man, who had just returned and was now seated at his small desk.
“Good night, gentlemen,” he said, looking up from a fishing magazine. “Now drive safely. It's pretty nasty out there.”
“Good night,” replied Todd.
They paused before the revolving door, zipped up their jackets, slipped on their gloves.
“Ready?” asked Todd.
“Yeah, ready to go to Florida,” griped Rawlins.
Todd went first, and as soon as the automatic doors slid open and he'd exited the building, he was slapped by stinging snow. He looked up at a tall streetlight and saw not only how heavily the snow was still falling but the nearly horizontal angle at which it was blowing. Great, the wind had picked up and the conditions worsened to near blizzard. Clenching his jacket collar around his neck and squinting his eyes, Todd thought this was unbelievable, things were going from bad to worse. Stepping into snow well above his boot, Todd led the way, trudging quickly through the deep white stuff and toward the parking ramp.
“Hey!” called a voice through the wind. “Hey, you two!”
They paused, looked back, and saw the tall guard poking his head out and waving at them.
“Hey!” he called again. “Come back here!”
“Maybe this is our lucky break,” said Todd to Rawlins.
They turned around, running through the snow, their heads bowed. Rushing inside, Todd and Rawlins found the guard gesturing with his hands, unable to hide his excitement.
“That kid you were looking for, he's here. Now, right now. One of the nurses just called the front desk, and she said she just saw him.”
“Where?” demanded Todd.
“Right here on the ground floor, straight back this way!” The guard turned quickly and said, “Come on!”
The woman at the front desk leaned over the counter and added, “The nurse said he's got a baby!”
“What?” snapped Todd.
”A baby—she said he's got one all wrapped up. Is that his? Does he have a baby? Dear Lord, he didn't take one from the maternity ward, did he? That's all we need, trouble like that.”
“Oh, shit,” Todd muttered as he glanced at Rawlins.
Both Todd and Rawlins hurried after the guard, rushing past the elevator and turning right at the next corridor, which was long and dimly lit. The guard then turned left, hurried up a ramp, through some large, swinging double doors, and into another part of the building.
“She saw him back here in the annex,” he said.
He led them past the X-ray department, past a lab, through another set of doors, and back toward the commissary. Rounding a corner, they came upon a nurse, a woman with short brown hair and one of the people that Todd and Rawlins had shown the picture to upstairs.
“One of my patients was hungry, so I came down to get something for her to eat. And there he was, the kid you showed me in the picture, the one who works here. I mean, I'd seen him earlier tonight, but just now he was coming out of a room—with a baby. He saw me, I tried to say something, but then he got real scared and took off.”
“When?” demanded Todd.
“Just a couple of minutes ago.”
“Where'd he go?” asked Rawlins.
Pointing down the hall to a door, she said, “He went out the back.”
Todd and Rawlins took off, racing down the hall, hurling the door open, and bursting outside once again. Todd quickly looked from side to side, took note of a parked truck with a thick layer of snow covering its windshield and hood. Straight ahead on the edge of a small parking area sat a brown Dump-ster. And there, leading off to the right and through a line of drifting snow, was a set of tracks.
“This way!” shouted Todd.
Bracing themselves against the weather, they followed the prints around the corner of the brick building. From there, the broken trail of snow led across an open area and past the parking ramp itself. Their heads bowed against the wind, they finally reached a well-lit parking lot. At most there were twenty or thirty cars parked about and buried in the blowing snow, yet there was no immediate sign of Zeb or anyone else.
“Either he was parked out here in the employee lot,” speculated Rawlins as he surveyed the area, “or someone was out here waiting for him.”
In which case, Todd realized, Zeb could already be gone. Shielding his eyes, Todd glanced around, unable to make any sense of this.
“I don't get it,” said Todd, totally perplexed, “If he's got a kid, whose is it? I mean, it couldn't be his own, could it?
Ribka was taken from Janice's not even two hours ago. And I was there, I fought with the guy who took her. Zeb was nowhere around. He couldn't have her, could he? If Zeb nabbed a kid from the maternity ward or something like that, however, then this is going to get really complicated.”
Rawlins was focused on the tracks, and as they reached the first row of cars the prints plunged through a pile of snow, then disappeared in a barren, windswept area. Right behind him, Todd searched to the left, then to the right. Some fifteen feet away he saw the tracks pass again between two parked cars.
“Over here!”
Even as he spoke he saw the taillights of a small car, one parked on the far side of the lot, suddenly burn red. In an instant both Todd and Rawlins were running through the snow. It had to be Zeb. Just as quickly, though, it seemed that Zeb saw them, for the car's tires started desperately spinning in the snow. Just let him be stuck, prayed Todd, who felt as if he were running through deep sand. But why would Zeb be trying to get away? What had he done?
Even though Zeb had obviously floored the gas, the vehicle barely moved, and the tires screamed a high pitch. Then the little beat-up car started fishtailing, swinging from side to side. As fast as he could Todd tore through the snow. But neither he nor Rawlins was fast enough, for the vehicle was gaining speed and circling around.
“He's headed for the gate!” shouted Rawlins.
There was only one way out, an exit that was blocked by a wooden gate swung down into position, and Todd and Rawlins swerved around, tried to cut Zeb off. By then, however, the little car was going even faster, and in a desperate moment it went shooting past Todd. Right at that instant Todd's eyes locked on those of the terrified driver, a young man behind a frosty glass window who might or might not be Todd's son. Todd hung on to the image of those dark eyes, then slowed to a stop when he realized it was useless. His breath huffing out of his body in great clouds, he watched as the small car went swerving across the snowy parking lot, then smashed right through the wooden entry gate, blasting it to bits, and disappeared into the blizzardy night.
22
Oh, man.
Zeb's heart was racing. Little Ribka, barely strapped into the car seat next to him, was screaming and flailing her arms. It couldn't have been any closer—another minute and those guys would have caught him. As he sped much too quickly along a small road behind the hospital, he checked his rear-view mirror, but couldn't see anything, for his rear window was covered with frost and snow. Cranking down his window, snow tumbled inward and freezing air blasted him as he brushed off the sideview mirror. As far as he could tell, though, there was no one following him. But Zeb didn't slow down. He couldn't tell who they were, but he was sure they were from The Congregation, which meant they wouldn't give up. No way.
“It's okay, Ribka. Everything's fine,” he said, touching his daughter with a gloved hand. “They didn't catch us.”
At least not yet. Luckily they had a place to go, so on to Brenda's, for she'd given him her address. She'd even called her roommate to say that Zeb and the baby were coming, get out some clean sheets. He pulled out a small piece of paper from his coat pocket, glanced at the map she'd drawn in pencil. Okay. Just go up here, turn right on France, cross over Highway 62, and head back toward 50th
Street, then another right and head all the way down to Nicollet, then turn and go another block. Fifteen minutes, at most twenty or twenty-five in this weather, and his daughter and he would be safely and warmly hidden away. Now, if only the roads were passable.
He took a deep breath, switched the windshield wipers on high. God, that had been too close. Steering around a drift, he reached France, a broad, well-lit street that led in one direction to Southdale, the rejuvenated grandmother of all malls, and in the other direction back toward the city. Zeb glanced to the left, saw only a big orange plow with a flashing blue light, but no car speeding from the other side of the hospital. After he turned and slowly made his way over the highway, he was relieved all over again. So far so good. Way back behind him only one car was creeping along through the snow.
Driving up France, which had recently been plowed and sanded, Zeb reached over and placed a hand on Ribka, rocking her slightly, hushing her. Within a few seconds she began to quiet, lulled as much by the car ride as by her father. But Zeb couldn't relax. Okay, he thought, tonight was taken care of. Maybe the next few nights as well if Brenda was as generous as he hoped she might be. But then what? Oh, brother, just how in the hell were they going to survive? Should he call Suzanne and plead with her to call off the guys from The Congregation? No, she'd never be able to talk her dad out of pursuing him. His word was second only to God's, and he'd always ordered her around. What was it that gas bag was always saying anyway? “A man is the head of a woman as Christ is the head of the Church.”
Which meant the decision wasn't Suzanne's at all. It was her dad's, the one and only self-proclaimed God's Apostle on earth. Shit. So there would be no reasoning. Zeb recalled being cornered by Harry in that barn after he'd found out his baby girl was pregnant. Okay, okay, so that way was out; there could be no rational discourse with Harry or anyone else from The Congregation. Maybe, though, Zeb could arrange a secret meeting with Janice. Maybe Zeb could explain why he'd taken Ribka in the first place and convince Janice how dangerous it would be for him and his daughter to return to The Congregation. Perhaps she'd give him some money. Maybe even a credit card. Or couldn't she do something as a lawyer to protect him and Ribka? Hey, he wondered, maybe she could arrange something like one of those witness-protection programs he'd seen in some movie before he'd rejoined The Congregation. Then again, he hadn't seen a movie—worldliness!—since he'd been at The Congregation, so maybe they weren't doing that kind of thing anymore.
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