by Thomas Babak
Sandy sat there for a few moments with his unopened coke in his hands. The answer came to him and his whole body sagged in realization. He let his breath out with a loud exhale.
“Trust,” he whispered.
“Damn straight,” Mr. Bullock said, taking another sip and leaning back
Sandy sat there until Mr. Bullock said, “Now what are you going to do about it?”
Sandy looked over. Mr. Bullock was leaning back in his chair, watching him over the top of his beer.
“Go make it right,” Sandy said, standing up and heading over to the mantle where he picked up the picture of him and Mr. Bullock.
“Can I have this?” he asked showing it to Mr. Bullock and then looking down at it himself.
Sandy stared at the picture. Mr. Bullock had been more of a father to him than his own had. He had been wrestling with what had caused the situation to arise between himself and Tasha and more importantly what to do about it. Mr. Bullock had led him to the crux of the problem and what to do about it within minutes.
“Sure, son,” he answered quietly. “I’ve got another.”
Sandy walked over, handed him the unopened Coke, and said, “Thanks. Thanks for everything” Looking at Mr. Bullock with a deeper appreciation of what he’d done for him. Not just now with Tasha but over the past couple of years.
“Thank you” he said again.
“No problem son” Mr. Bullock responded as Sandy left, closing the door gently behind him.
He walked back to the Yard, locked the office door and got into his truck. The talk and walk had made him feel both better and worse. The misplaced anger and hurt were gone but were replaced by the increasing guilt of not trusting Tasha. He’d go back, apologize, and hope she would forgive him.
The drive back home was uneventful but when he turned onto his street he recognized Tasha’s old boyfriend Nick’s car parked in front of her house.
He pulled into his driveway and got out of his truck. He circled around the hood and stopped, looking at the car and at Tasha’s mom’s house across the street. The front door of his house opened up and Nick walked out followed by Tasha. Nick made it to the bottom of the porch stairs to the walkway before noticing Sandy. A nasty smile broke out on his face and he stopped and glanced back at Tasha who looked over and spotted Sandy as well.
“Howdy Candy Cane!” he said to Sandy, “See ya later sweetheart!” he called, looking back to Tasha.
Sandy jammed his keys in his pocket and stalked over towards Nick. He never heard Tasha yell out “No!”
Nick’s smiled evaporated and he took up a fighting stance and as Sandy got in range, fired a roundhouse punch and Sandy’s jaw. Sandy didn’t try to stop it but the punch barely connected and didn’t distract Sandy from cocking back his arm and driving his fist into and what felt like through Nick’s nose. Nick flew back landing on his butt, surprise and pain written on his face. His nose was bent and blood was pouring out of both nostrils and down his face onto his shirt. Sandy stepped forward and wound up to hit him again and felt someone grab his arm and yell “No!” He looked over. Tasha was holding his arm, anger and worry in her words and expression.
“No!” she said again and Sandy relaxed and felt deflated. The guilt about not trusting Tasha back and redoubled now along with that he had lost his temper and hurt someone. “Sorry,” he said lamely. Tasha just looked at him with an expression he had never seen before. It wasn’t a good one.
She immediately ran over to Nick who was tentatively touching his nose with the fingers of both hands, the blood still flowing down his face and onto his shirt.
Sandy watched Tasha’s arm go around Nick’s shoulders, comforting him. “What are you doing?” Sandy said furiously.
“What are you doing?” she yelled back.
“I…You…” Sandy was at a loss for words. Tasha was now trying to pull Nick’s hands away from his face gently, her other hand gently stroking the back of his head. It enraged Sandy. After all the Nick had done, she was comforting and helping him now.
“Stop!” he yelled.
Tasha stood up quickly turning to him and yelled “No! You stop! What the hell do you think you’re doing? I think you’d better leave! Now!”
Sandy stared at her for seconds. Her expression didn’t change. She yelled, “Go!”
Sandy turned around and dug his keys out of his pocket, fumbling them in his hands and left, the tires of his truck spinning as he slammed the accelerator.
Fine! If that’s the way she wants it no problem! Sandy raged as he headed back to the Yard.
Sandy went to Mr. Bullock’s house and eventually calmed down after an hour or two.
Mr. Bullock couldn’t fix this with Sandy. At least not yet. It was too soon. He’d wait another day or so before trying to talk to him about it. It would give the pretty girl time to calm down too, he thought to himself. Sandy was asleep in what had been his son’s room. After Sandy had calmed down enough, Mr. Bullock had made some food and Sandy had showered and gone to bed. Mr. Bullock sat in his armchair drinking beer. Another pain ached in his chest and down his left arm. He had this pain a couple times in the past few days. I must have strained something he thought to himself before forgetting about it as he took another sip. Yup, in another day or two, the boy would be ready to talk reasonably.
He fell asleep, not for the first time, in his chair.
Twenty-Nine
Sandy was sitting at the Yard office counter the next morning. He wouldn’t open the Yard for another couple of hours. The fight still fresh in his mind. Fights. He still had no idea what Nick was doing at his house. That pained him almost as much as the as being at odds with Tasha.
Sandy was doing accounts. Business was still picking up more now that Spring was in full gear. He’d have to start stocking even more parts soon. The shelves in the bay were starting to look bare. That meant a lot more work as he had to pull them from the junked vehicles, clean them and stock them.
The phone rang and he answered with “A-1 Auto Salvage. Sandy speaking. May I help you?”
“Sandy!” It was Tasha’s frantic whispered voice.
Sandy stood up, the counter chair he had been sitting on crashing to the ground. He barely heard the “Sandy?” from Mr. Bullock’s office as he said “What’s wrong?” into the phone.
“They’re here! They just came right in and started searching the place. I told them I needed to use the bathroom. It’s where I left my phone.” A stray thought flashed through Sandy’s mind. Tasha took her phone everywhere. Even to the bathroom when she took a shower. Sometimes she forgot it in there, though, and searches for her “lost phone” had turned it up there more than once. He knew who “they” were. The FBI or somebody like them.
“They know you work at the Yard. I think they are heading there next.” There was a loud crash and he could hear Tasha squeal. The phone disconnected.
Sandy put down the receiver and stood there for a few seconds. He turned around and found Mr. Bullock standing there.
“They know, Mr. Bullock. They’re coming here,” he said quietly, resigned to it.
Mr. Bullock nodded slowly, understanding perfectly what Sandy meant. “Come with me,” he said and led him back to the office. He went behind his desk, reached down, and pulled out a small duffle bag. He walked back around the desk and handed it to Sandy. “Here, take this,” he said.
“What is it?” Sandy asked confused.
“Don’t worry about it now. You go get your van and leave…”
“But…” Sandy tried to interject.
“No! You get your van and leave and don’t come back until it’s safe.” By this time he was grasping both of Sandy’s shoulders in his hands. The boy towered over him now. When did he get so big?
“Promise me?” he asked.
Sandy just looked at him.
“Promise me that no matter what you’ll leave and find someplace until it’s safe for you to come back?” he asked more forcefully.
“I promi
se, Mr. Bullock” Sandy said.
The old man clasped him in a fierce hug. It was the first time he’d ever hugged him except for the time Sandy hugged him. After a couple seconds he let Sandy go and pushed him towards the Day Room “Go!” he yelled and more quietly “God keep you safe, son.”
Mr. Bullock walked back to the counter and picked the chair up off the floor and set it upright and then sat in it. He closed everything that Sandy had been working on, brought up the Solitaire game, dealt a hand, and started playing. He would wait for whoever was coming.
Sandy ran down the bay stairs and out the door into the yard. Terror about Tasha coursed through him. Fear about what would happen to Mr. Bullock rose to match it. He made his way down one of the dirt lanes and turned off it crawling over a junked car and heading down, around and over other junked cars towards where he had left the Bubble Van. The bag that Mr. Bullock given him slapped against his thigh as he walked or thumped against a junked vehicle as he climbed over them. He knew he was near the Bubble Van and dug the key ring out of his pocket and pressed a button on the fob. The van appeared and dropped down onto the junked cars. There was some creaking and metallic pop and the left rear of the van dropped another few inches. The van was resting at an angle now.
Sandy carefully climbed up and opened the door, tossing the bag into the passenger seat. He powered up the systems and waited. There was another metallic pop and the van dropped even further. It felt as if it were about to tip over. “Come on. Come on,” Sandy whispered out loud.
Finally, the dialogue box reading “No Errors or Alerts” popped up and without closing it he engaged the Bubble Field. Pop, liquid blue light and silence. He tilted the van until it was level and rose up several feet. Closing the dialogue box he checked all the systems as well. Power was at 100% still. He buckled his seat belt and rose up even higher while tilting the van forward so he could see better. The bag Mr. Bullock had given him that had tossed on the passenger seat rolled forward and fell on the floor.
He circled the Yard seeing nothing amiss so he rose up further and headed towards the highway in time to see a caravan of black SUV’s, blue and red lights flashing in their grills, racing towards the Salvage Yard. He headed towards them but then turned back and hovered over the Yard parking lot to see what they would do. Most of them turned into the Yard lot. One raced down Mr. Bullock’s driveway. A couple broke through the chain link gate next to the office and headed down to the lot below.
Men in tactical gear jumped out of the vehicles and raced in different directions. Several went straight to the front door and inside. Sandy lowered the van down until he was only about twenty feet off the ground so he could get a better view. He still could not see what was going on inside. One of the SUV’s doors opened and a woman got out. A man got out of the other side and joined her. She would say something and he would talk into a handheld radio and talk back to her. Sandy, of course couldn’t hear what was being said. After a few minutes of watching but not seeing anything, he flew over the office to the back lot.
The barn door had been raised and he could see several of the tactical clad men spreading out through the acres of junked vehicles. They’d never find anything Sandy thought. Even the scraps of stuff that he had used had been bagged up, including the contents of the shop vacuum, and taken to the dump.
He flew back over to the front of the office again. Nothing was happening. He waited. He waited some more and still nothing. An ambulance surprised him as it drove into his field of view from underneath. What’s going on?
Two EMTs jumped out. One ran inside while the other ran to the back and opened the doors. A third EMT helped him with a stretcher gurney roll it into the office. Sandy’s anxiety level skyrocketed.
What’s going on?
A minute later the wheeled out Mr. Bullock. He was strapped to the gurney and while two of the EMT’s wheeled him towards the ambulance, the third danced along squeezing an air bottle strapped to Mr. Bullock’s face. As they stopped to lift him up the third EMT locked his arms over Mr. Bullocks chest and pushed down several times. They then lifted him into the ambulance, slammed the doors closed and took off. It took everything he had not to follow.
Mr. Bullock! There’s something wrong with Mr. Bullock! Did they shoot him? The thoughts raged through Sandy’s mind. He had to stay here and find out who these people are and what they were doing.
Sandy looked at the woman intently, memorizing her face. She seemed to be in charge of everything. Thoughts of Mr. Bullock strapped to the gurney changed his mind. Where were they taking Mr. Bullock? Was he okay? He rose up and followed the ambulance. The ambulance raced down the highway and within minutes arrived at the Emergency Room in Buffalo. He’ll be okay Sandy tried to tell himself. They’ll take good care of him there.
He waited a couple minutes but of course couldn’t see anything from outside and above the hospital. He had to find out what happened to Tasha. He raced back home and came to his street. It was blocked off at both ends. Men wearing jackets with Homeland Security and FBI were removing stuff from his house. He couldn’t see Tasha anywhere. Sandy flew down as low as he thought he could safely go and tried to look into the cars. He didn’t see Tasha in them. He didn’t know what to do. After a few minutes, he flew back to the Yard.
Not much had changed. All the SUV’s were parked in the same spots. Men in tactical gear had made their way further out into the yard. A couple of them were already on the way back towards the offices. Sandy brought the van over the lot and hovered, waiting. After an hour more cars and SUV’s showed up including several large unmarked white trucks. One parked in the lot while the other went down below out back. Sandy rose up and looked what it was doing. It had backed up to the barn. Confused, he flew to the front lot again. They were already bringing the contents of the offices out and loading it into the truck. That explained the truck in back. Sandy could see flashes of a camera inside the offices through the window. They are photographing everything, too, he thought.
After a few minutes the Lady in Charge, as he thought of her now, came back outside followed by the man that had been with her before. They both got into the SUV and left. Sandy had an idea. Maybe they’d lead him to where Tasha was. He followed them. Where are you, Tasha?
The Lady in Charge and the radio guy drove back to the Cities. As they got closer to the International Airport, Sandy got closer to them in the Bubble Van. He had to dodge the occasional power line or sign, which was nerve-wracking but his bigger fear was low-flying jets. He followed them to a building where they parked and went inside. He circled the building and eventually could see them through the windows. They were both inside a second floor conference room.
He watched for a few minutes and considered flying around and checking out the other buildings when the door opened and a man entered with Tasha in front of her. Sandy yelled out “Tasha!” without thinking about it and had to restrain himself from crashing the Bubble Van into building to try to rescue her. He calmed down by force of will and watched. The Lady in Charge talked and Tasha responded. It was driving Sandy crazy that he couldn’t hear what was being said. The man that had led her in was holding her arm. He had an ugly smile on his face. Sandy’s face hardened as he saw how he was smiling and staring at Tasha.
He watched as they talked some more and then the nasty smile man led her out. Sandy circled the building trying to find them from the windows but didn’t see them again. He went back outside the conference room and waited. The hours passed and the radio guy and the Lady in Charge got up on occasion and left but always returned after a few minutes. Another man brought them food. It started to get dark. The radio guy looked up out the window and looked back down at what he was doing. He looked back up quickly and then stood up.
It was completely dark. He can see the Bubble! In the dark, the Bubble Sphere would glow with an almost imperceptible pale blue light sometimes. Most of the time it was invisible even in the dark but Sandy had observed that sometimes it subtly glowed
. He never figured out why. It didn’t matter now, the radio guy saw something so Sandy shot straight up into the air and over the building. He had no idea of where to go. He could see the snake of headlights and taillights as cars went over a long, high bridge nearby. He flew towards it and under the bridge. Using the camera monitors he backed in under the trusses, turned on the Lifters and shut off the Bubble Field. Sound of cars and trucks passing overhead came crashing in. Sandy rolled down the window a few inches to let some fresh air in. He’d been cooped up in the van for hours and the air had been getting stale. He sat there for a few moments reliving the trauma of the day.
Was Mr. Bullock okay? How would he rescue Tasha? Maybe he should he just turn himself in? But he didn’t do anything wrong, had he? Moreover, it was his technology not theirs. He had other questions and thoughts but exhaustion overcame him and he fell asleep, the sleep washing them from his mind.
Thirty
“Henry Alessandro Kane. Aged 16 years, 10 months.” Jenkins continued to drone on through the minutiae of where Sandy was born, lived, went to school. They were seated around the Air Force Reserve conference room table. The “hard man” wasn’t there this time, though.
Travis had already given his report. Nothing. Gone. Disappeared. No next step. Nothing else. He was still talking to the girl.
Where are you Henry Kane? Kate wondered to herself as Jenkins droned.
“Grandfather died before he was born. Mother died of breast cancer when he was a baby. Grandmother died of complications due to pneumonia when he was seven. Odd thing with his father though.” Kate paid closer attention. She liked odd things because they usually led somewhere.