No. This is my responsibility. I have to see Tom Richardson go to prison. I have to know my sister and Hawk will be safe.
Hawk may not be afraid of his father anymore, but I am. So I pace my bedroom, walking from the door to the edge of the bed and back again, and back again, and back again. Seeing as it's July, the sun is going to go down late, and I pace for hours, stopping only to rest and pace some more. Then I hear the tapping on my window and open it and Hawk slides into my room, dressed for sneaking, which apparently means a black t-shirt and jeans and his freaking combat boots.
He scoots across the bed and stands up, stretches, and yawns into his hand. I pace away from him and his hands shoot out and take my arms just above the elbows. I struggle for a second but fall into him as he pulls me towards him, my back against his chest, and he slips his arms around me and rests his chin on my head.
I can feel my pulse against his arms, slowing as he holds me. He doesn't say anything, but turns his head down to breathe in my hair, taking in my scent. I rest my hands on his wrists and mold against him with a soft sigh. No matter how complicated I feel about him right now, this is too reassuring and calming to give up. It's like he's made of stone and I feel surrounded and safe.
"When do you think he'll leave?"
Hawk shrugs, his body moving against mine as he does. He lets go and turns to sit on the bed, watching through my window. I click my light off, lift the shade and sit cross-legged next to him.
"We can't go through the house. What if Lance sees us?"
"We're not going out through the door. I'll show you."
"You want me to climb down the side of the house?"
"It's not hard."
"Maybe we should go now," I sigh. "If we try after he leaves we'll lose him."
Hawk turns and stares out the window. There's something distant in his gaze, almost vacant. Beyond the glass, Paradise Falls is starting to light up for the night, a glow popping into windows as lamps turn on. In the distance, it looks like stars reaching out into the dark beyond. Outside of town, away from the buildings, it's pitch black at night, the dark so deep you can't see your hand in front of your face. Hawk taps my back with his fingers and I flinch.
"You're right. Come on. We'll hide out in the yard. Got your keys?"
"Yeah."
He lifts the window sash and climbs out, shuffles to the side, so he's peering around the edge of the window frame. He lowers his voice.
"Swing your legs out. I won't let you fall."
"What do I do?"
"Put your feet on the wall and feel. There's a strip of molding under the window that’ll hold you. Keep a tight grip on the frame."
I nod and take a deep breath, scoot across the bed and slip my legs into the open air. Realizing I'm going to go out backwards, I roll around onto my stomach and slither across the blankets until I can swing my legs down and probe along the wall. Hawk puts his hand on the small of my back and I feel the molding he's talking about, like a shelf, about half as wide as my shoes. I slip out a little further and reach back to grip the window frame, and my heart speeds up.
It starts pounding as I squeeze the old wood in my fingers and hear it creak as I stick my butt out in the air, swing my head under the sash, and stand up, holding on for dear life. Hawk nods at me and I shuffle to the side a little, carefully gripping the windowsill, and he pulls the sash down until it's about an inch above my hands.
Then the back door opens.
My heart pounds against my ribs as I look down and see Tom walk out of the house, right under us.
He stops on the porch, maybe five feet directly under us. If he happens to look up, he'll spot the two of us hanging on for dear life on the outside of the house, clearly climbing out through my bedroom window.
He's just standing there.
My hands start to shake. I'm squeezing the windowsill too hard and it makes it feel like my fingers are going to pop out of joint. Hawk is perfectly still, but I’m shaking harder every second. Tom checks his watch, then pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, taps one free, and sticks it in his mouth. Then he just stands there rolling it around on his lips before bringing a Zippo to the tip. The cigarette lights and casts a baleful red glow on his face as he takes a long puff and… lets it out as he stands there.
Come on, leave already!
My hands are getting tired. Hawk lets go of the strip of molding he's holding with one hand and puts it on my back, pressing me against the wall.
Fatigue begins to burn in my calves. If I relax my legs I'll slip right off the molding. I'm plenty strong enough to hold myself up like this but the longer I stay here without shifting, the more my calves start to burn. Hawk is trembling, too. He brings his hand back and I see his arms tense as he tries to take the pressure off his own legs.
I mouth, "Back inside."
He shakes his head. "Hear the window", he mouths silently.
Tom is still standing there, one hand in the pocket of his khakis, puffing on his cigarette. Finally he looks at it between his fingers, tosses it to the bottom of the porch stairs, and jogs down, stopping to grind it out with his heel. Hawk shifts and starts to move when Tom stops, turns, and walks back up the stairs. I freeze again, my calves on fire. My foot slips and hands in space, and now only one food and my grip on the window is holding me up. My other foot starts to slip, the bottom of my sneaker scraping across the thin strip of molding as my heel tips down. Any second I'm going to slip loose and fall fifteen feet to the porch below.
Hawk grabs my waistband and grits his teeth, lifting me back up my main strength.
Tom jiggles the doorknob below us I get my footing again, but Hawk's own foot slips and he almost drops, sinking a foot right next to me as his leg bends as his other foot hangs in space.
Turning, Tom jogs back down to the yard and then heads for the carriage.
"Move," Hawk chokes in a whisper. "Over to the corner."
Nodding, I let go of the window and dig my fingers into a strip of molding along the side of the house and start working my way over. I see where Hawk is going, now. The molding that runs along the corner is almost like a ladder. If I can lower myself down a bit at a time…
He pauses while I slip down, finally resting my feet on the roof of the porch overhang, but it's a steep slope and my shoes start to skid immediately. I have to grip the moldings until I can sit down and kick my heels into the shingles to stop from sliding right off. Hawk moves more deftly beside me, moving down the molding with practiced familiarity as I struggle to catch my breath quietly.
The door to the carriage house swings open. If Tom drives out with his headlights on, he'll have to see us. Hawk moves fast, swinging over and dropping to the ground next to the porch. I lean over the side, where he waits, beckoning me with his hands. I lay on the roof and swing my legs over, kicking for something to get some footing and climb down.
Hawk tugs my legs and I look back and him and suck in a breath, shimmy to the edge until my body sinks and I grasp at the shingles in a panic, but he rises up and grabs my waist and he's got me. My stomach does a backflip as I feel myself falling into space, but Hawk takes my whole body weight just in his hands and lowers me into a embrace and settles my feet on the ground.
I plow into him, gasping for breath. Hawk yanks me around the side of the house in time for the headlights of Tom's Mercedes to sweep over where we just stood, throwing long shadows into the night. As the car passes, he grabs my arm and we run, heading for my Honda.
I fumble with the keys, dive in and lean over to unlock his door. He rips it open and jumps in next to me.
"Hurry, we'll lose him. Easy."
The car chugs to life and I pull out behind Tom, my headlights off. I can see his tail lights turning the first corner. He's heading north. I push in the gas and Hawk puts his foot on my knee.
"Easy. Turn the lights on."
"We'll lose him."
"We've got this. Just drive. I'll watch him."
I nod, pull to
a stop at the corner and turn to follow. The next five minutes is a tense game, spotting his headlights and brake lights, Hawk guiding me after him as I remain a turn or two behind.
"This is stupid, he'll see us."
"No, he won't. Just stay back and stay cool. He's not even paying attention to us."
"Are you sure? What if this is some kind of fucked up test and he wants to see if I'm loyal to him or something?"
My hands squeeze the wheel so hard my arms tremble. Hawk puts his hand on my arm, and caresses my skin with his thumb.
"It's okay."
"It's not okay," I blurt out.
Easier to follow him now. His tail lights sway back and forth with the contours of the road, up and down with the hills as we leave town and head north, into the back country. The speed limit is forty five, so I stay just under that and pray he doesn't pay any attention to the car behind him, but why wouldn't he? He has to know.
"I don't know what he wants from me. I'm not sure if he wants me to be his daughter or he wants to fuck me or just keep me like some kind of fucked up doll."
"I'm not going to let him hurt you."
I glance over at him, trembling, then back at the road.
"I wanted you to come back so badly."
"I had to stay away, Alex. I had to keep away from you. It was the only way to keep you safe. My father made it clear that if I even looked you up to see what you were doing he'd hurt you. He killed my mother. I couldn't let him hurt you. I wanted you to be happy with somebody else, and safe."
"I don't want somebody else, God damn it, I want you."
I flinch at the words I just spit out. Hawk's hand slides over my shoulder and presses into the back of my neck.
"We're going to be okay. I think we should leave tonight. Let's turn around and get May and leave now, while he's gone."
"No. I have to help Jacob and Jennifer. I have to stop him. After what I heard today I know I can't leave. They're going to make him a senator or something, Hawk. He's sick, he's evil. Somebody has to stop him."
"Then let me do it. You can go to safety and-"
"And wait for you to come back? What if you don't come back this time? What if he decides you had your chance and this time you end up dead in a ditch somewhere? I won't let you leave me like that, you can't."
"Nobody’s going to kill me," he says, very softly.
"How do you know?"
"When I was assigned to corps school I had to do an extra four weeks of basic training. Basically, I did Navy boot camp, and then part of Marine boot camp. The Marine drill instructor taught us something very important. Saved my life a few times in heavy shit."
"What?"
"Yea though I walk through the valley of death, I shall fear no evil."
"For the Lord is with me?"
He smirks. "For I am the baddest motherfucker in the valley."
I can't help it, I laugh.
"You laugh at a drill instructor like that and see what happens to you."
Tom's brakes light up and I slow down, too.
"Keep driving," Hawk says. "He's pulling off. Look."
There are some lights off the road. Faint and yellowy, they look like gas lamps or something like that. As Tom's headlights head up a dirt track, we drive right past.
"Keep going until I tell you, then pull off."
I nod, and drive, glancing at Hawk. We've gone almost half a mile further when he taps my shoulder and I pull the car off the road into a cut out in the corn next to the road, driving almost to the edge so the car won't be visible. I turn everything off and we're bathed in black.
"Give it a minute for our eyes to adjust."
I nod, watching the world slowly paint itself back into being in silver tones. There are so many stars out here, a star field so vibrant and alive it's like the sky is on fire. It's the only light this far out. We're in Amish country now, the only man-made lights are the yellow glow of lamps on the farm back there and the far distant lights of Paradise Falls, like a hint of a sunrise. Far in the distance, the red warning lights on the bridge towers blink-blink, blink-blink, and the yellow cables glow bright in the night. Hawk opens his door and steps out.
When I rise from mine, he takes my hand. His hand his huge, mine disappearing in his grip, and his skin is rough, calloused, like hard and well worn leather. It's funny how I feel when he clasps my hand. He makes me feel soft, if that makes any sense at all.
"Stay close."
I nod, though I'm not sure how well he can see me.
Like a hawk, probably. Ha, ha.
He almost pulls me along as we walk. I plant my feet carefully, trying to avoid a rut or a dip in the side of the road as the lights bob closer with every step. It's an Amish farm, all right. A big one. A massive farmhouse stands well away from the road, and there are stables, a barn nearly as big as the house itself, and more outbuildings.
Not a single strand of wire moves between them, and the only light comes from lamps and candles, and there's not much of that. We draw near to wear Tom turned off and Hawk stops, squeezing my hand. He searches through something, then finds a narrow track in the corn.
I move through, wincing as corn stalk leaves scrape over my skin. As we get closer, I hear a distinct, rhythmic chugging noise. Hawk must hear it too, he stops and his jaw clenches as he listens. He nods and pulls me along, turning so we step out of the corn, away from the entrance to the barn.
There's something off.
"Look at the lights," I whisper.
There's something bright in the barn, the light slipping through knife-thin gaps in the wooden walls and crawling out from under the ends of the planks, along the ground. More in gaps under the roof. The whole inside must be brightly lit. Hawk swings wide around it, pulling me with him. The rhythmic noise only grows louder as we get closer.
It sounds like an engine.
Hawk crouches behind the barn, and I slip down beside him. He presses his face close to the wood and pulls back sharply.
"Look."
He shuffles aside and I peer through the gap in the boards.
I, uh, wasn't expecting that.
It looks like a science lab, not a barn. They even have those black-topped tables, like the science labs where I did my undergraduate work. There must be two dozen people inside, all dressed like Amish, except they’re wearing gas masks and hoods over their heads. The chugging is from what I think is a really big diesel generator, wired up to bright halogen lights that make the inside of the barn bright as day.
There's a really strong chemical smell, too. Vats of chemicals, the whole works. Tom is standing at the front of the barn, talking with the guy he met earlier today- Eli. I can't hear anything they say, their words drowned out by the generator. Tom appears pleased with himself, smiling a Cheshire cat smile while Eli, the man he met this morning, talks, holding his suspenders in his hands like he's in a Norman Rockwell painting.
The two move through the barn doors and outside, and I pull back and glance at Hawk. He nods at me and I tip my chin in the direction they were headed, and we work around the barn.
"Impressive facility," Tom's voice drifts across the open space between the outbuildings. "This is a large operation."
"We've been supplying to the Leviathans for over a year now, since their previous connection was shut down."
"Now you’ll supply my business partners. You'll need more facilities like this, one operation isn't going to be enough."
"What are they making?" I whisper, to Hawk.
"Methamphetamine, I think," he murmurs. "Stay low, and stay quiet."
Something scuffs behind me. A long shadow passes along the dirt, following the way we came alongside the barn. Hawk doesn't waste a second, he grabs my arm and pulls me back, straight from the barn into the corn. The sounds of the stalks scraping are like thunder in my ears. The footsteps quicken and through the leather sharp leaves and stalks I see an Amish guy walking along with a freaking shotgun, peering into the corn. He's heading our way.
The Amish guy is behind us, walking through the corn. He stops, and lifts a leaf. My blood is quite black in the moonlight.
He moves with purpose, turning the shotgun to carry it pointed forward instead of across his body, stopping to sweep it around every time he steps between rows of corn. Hawk pulls me to him and ducks low as the gunman walks down between the rows, scanning, eyes sliding everywhere in the dark. He has one of those masks around his neck. He draws nearer, his every step hammering loud in my ears.
Then he stops and calls out, back towards the barn. We both look at the same time and see two more come running out, toting shotguns. Tom and Eli walk around the side of the barn and stop, staring fixed into the corn.
Oh shit.
"Let's go," Hawk whispers in my ear.
He pushes through a row of corn and heads fast down the row, still bent double, and I dart along behind him. The farmers are spreading out in the corn, each taking a row, and when they don't spot us, they move to the next one. There's five now, maybe more. It's only a matter of time until they spot us.
It's only half a mile or so to the car but it feels a million miles away. At this rate we'll never make it. As I glance over my shoulder, one of the farmers steps into our row, spots us, and starts running, shouting.
"Fuck it," Hawk barks, "Run! Go!"
He stands up and pulls me along with him, running faster than I thought he even could. I keep trying to look back over my shoulder as I look forward, hoping I don't hook my foot somewhere in these ruts and break my ankle.
Hawk crashes through a crow of corn, and comes out covered in dirt and cuts. He pulls me behind him but it doesn't matter, the farmer is on us. I can see my car in the distance, parked along the edge of the road, the dull blue finish almost black at night, picking up a sheen from the stars.
Not far. I run, and behind me the report of the shotgun is like thunder. He either fired up in the air, or missed. We break into the open and the farmer sprints up onto the road and comes at us shockingly fast, then slows and brings the gun to his shoulder.
Hawk Page 15