Hawk

by Abigail Graham

  A weird noise cuts through the night still, a kind of whoop-whoop sound, like something small moving really fast, and whatever it is whips around the farmer's legs. There's a shocking crack as his knees bend funny, all out of angles, and he goes down in a heap on the road. Shouting, he grabs the shotgun and rolls over with a grunt, and then the handle of a knife appears in his shoulder, the short blade buried in the meat of his joint.

  His right arm goes rigid and his fingers open, and out of nowhere a whipcord thin figure all in black runs out into the road and kicks it out of his hands. It goes flying and scrapes across the blacktop. More voices are shouting behind, and lanterns now, too. The black-clad figure turns to us.

  "Get in the car and drive. That way!"

  I blink, shocked to hear a woman's voice. I look at the car out of instinct, and when I turn back, she's gone, like she just melted into the dark. Hawk doesn't waste any time. He snatches the keys from my hand and I climb into the passenger's side as he starts it up, throws it in gear and floors it.

  The, ah, takeoff is not very impressive. It throws me back into my seat a little as the front wheel chirps. Hopefully with the lights off, the five Amish men in the road behind us can't see our license plate or make out the type of car we're driving. Hawk glances back and sets his gaze grimly on the road.

  "I knew this was a bad idea," I blurt out.

  He gives me a sour look and pushes the accelerator down to the floor. We're not doing forty-five anymore, more like eighty.

  Then something big and black blasts past us like we're standing still. Hawk slams the brakes as whatever it is spins out in the road, skidding sideways to a stop.

  I lean forward.

  It's actually hard to see in the dark. It's a car, but not like any car I've ever seen. It looks like some kind of exotic sports car, but more like a kid's idea of what one looks like than a real one. The tires are too big, too knobby, almost like they're meant for off-roading.

  The body sits up a little, too high from the ground and the body panels are all flat and angular, painted a dull mat black that seems to drink up all the light instead of bounce it back. Most of the front and back end is open struts, no body work, and it doesn't have doors; as far as I can tell, the top slides open. Then it does, and the same person from before hops out and runs over to the car.

  She yanks the black face mask over her head and shakes out short, sweat-slick red hair.

  "Follow me," Jennifer barks. "We need to get off the road."

  Hawk

  Now

  The… thing in front of me starts up again and starts rolling, more slowly now. I keep glancing back, expecting to see headlights, but none appear, and I let out a long, slow breath. Alexis is clutching her arm, trembling. I grab her hand and squeeze, and she looks over at me and rests her head on my shoulder.

  "Are you hurt?"

  "Just my arm," she sighs. "God that was close. We shouldn't have done that."

  I choke the wheel with my other hand. Maybe she's right, but I can't get what I just saw out of my head. My father talking to an Amish man running a freaking meth lab in his barn. The whole thing is so damn surreal. I feel like I'm driving through a dream. Cruising down the highway following… I'm not sure it's a car. It doesn't have a license plate. It looks like some weird off-roading hybrid of a Jeep and a Lamborghini. It has a turn signal, though, and it trips and starts blinking. I slow down, wondering where we're supposed to go when I spot a dirt track.

  It's slow going in Alexis' Honda. She sits up a little, but keeps her chin propped on my shoulder. The point of her chin digs into the muscle a little but I don't care, she can do that all night if she wants. I can smell her every time I breathe. The car bounces around us as I slowly work it over ruts and bumps in the dirt track, the vehicle in front of us deftly sliding over them like they're not even there.

  It feels like an hour crawling along, though we can't have gone very far. Finally a road appears ahead, and the odd machine turns off, heading south again. After a minute or so of driving, I realize where we are, another country road that tangles its way north from town. Alexis sits up as we pull off yet again, turning across the oncoming lane and into a gas station parking lot. The black machine slips around the back and pulls right into a work bay, and the engine cuts off. The top slides back and the driver vaults out, landing lightly on her feet, though I see a twinge in her face and she still has a bit of a limp.

  I kill the Honda's motor and step out.

  "What the hell were you doing?" Jennifer demands.

  "What are you doing?" Alexis snaps back.

  "I thought you were a teacher," I say, eyeing her.

  She's wearing tactical gear, and not wanna-be mall ninja crap. A thin, light Kevlar vest, expensive looking boots, a neoprene breathable suit that covers her from head to toe, and a web vest full of gear. There's a pistol on her left hip and another one tucked on her right shoulder, and she's wearing a sleek backpack I presume to be filled with other gear. She sighs and leans on the back of the… car.

  "What the hell is that?" I nod at the vehicle.

  "Oh, this? It's my car."

  "That's not a car."

  She rolls her eyes. "Whatever. Come inside."

  After opening the door with a key, we step inside what was, at some point, an old school gas station with a service bay and a little store inside; now it looks more like some kind of safehouse. There's a couple of cots, a medicine cabinet, some first aid gear, and what I am pretty sure is a gun safe standing in the corner. Jennifer winces as she strips out of her vest and pack, and sits down on one of the cots. Then she flinches as she spots Alexis' arm, and grabs a first aid kit from the cabinet.

  "Let me look at that."

  Sighing wearily, Alexis sits down as the older woman leans over her arm and tugs her sleeve up.

  "You won't need stitches, but I should clean this."

  "We can't stay long," Alex insists. "If Tom gets back and sees we're missing…"

  "Hush," Jennifer says.

  Alexis yelps as the disinfectant touches her wound. Jennifer gives her a look, glances at me and dabs the wound clean while Alexis chews her lip, then spreads a bandage over it.

  "You'll live."

  "Mind if I ask what you're doing out here?" I ask.

  "What are you doing out here?" she shoots back.

  I scrub my fingers through my hair. "We followed my father out here to find out what he was doing."

  "What did you find?"

  "A meth lab in some Amish guy's barn. Unless this is a really fucked up dream."

  "It's not a dream," she sighs, and pats Alexis' shoulder.

  Alexis stands up and moves next to me. "We need to go."

  "Not yet," Jennifer says. "What were you two doing following him? Why didn't you call me?"

  Alexis sighs. "You're my little sister's English teacher. When you said you'd help, I thought you meant, like, moral support or something. Or your husband could put us up in a hotel. Everybody knows he's got money."

  She glances towards the open door and the black monstrosity sitting in the garage beyond.

  "Or maybe," Alexis went on, "You'd take whatever I found and go to the police. I didn't expect… this."

  "The police aren't going to do anything," Jennifer sighs, rising. "Not any connected to this town. Not unless something changes. No, we’ll expose your father-"

  "He's not my father," Alexis snaps.

  "We’ll expose Tom to the authorities, but we need solid evidence. Solid evidence you may have just ruined by tipping them off that someone’s looking into it. You've also put yourselves in danger. He's going to be watching both of you closely now, Alexis. He'll suspect you."

  "You talk about him like you know him," I say.

  She looks at me. "Know your enemy as you know yourself."

  "What's your involvement in this?"

  "He's tied into other people," Jennifer says, calmly. "A man once told me that if we took him down, the machine would keep turning and a
nother one just like him would take his place. That's Tom. Whatever he told you," she glances at Alexis, "he's just another piece in the machine and it's his turn to sit in the chair."

  "So what's the point?" Alexis says, softly. "Maybe we should just run."

  "I'll back you if that's your decision," Jennifer nods. "We can keep you safe for a while."

  "I don't want to do that," Alexis says, so softly. "I want to help you stop him. I don't want him to be mayor. I don't want this town to be like it was when your father-in-law ran everything."

  "She's right," I say, taking her hand. "This is my responsibility, not yours. He's my father. He killed my mother."

  She looks at me, at Alexis, back to me.

  "If that's how it is, but this isn't amateur hour. I know what I'm doing, you don't."

  "Excuse me, lady, I-"

  She cuts me off. "No. You're good, but you're not that good. I was following you most of the time you were out there. I wasn't going to let them hurt you. I've been watching that farm for three days, though. I was going to get photographs of Tom Richardson meeting with that Eli and get images of their production facility. I had to drop that to keep you two from getting killed. You want to help, fine, but you're working for me, not with me. You do what I say, when I say."

  Scowling, I start to protest. Alexis cuts me off.

  "Fine. So what's the plan?"

  "You work for him, right?" Jennifer asks, and sits on the cot again. "Work on his campaign."

  "Yeah."

  "You have access to his office?"

  She shakes her head. "I do but only when he's in there. I can't go in there when he's not, and…"

  "It's okay," Jennifer says, softly. "I have something you can use. You just need to get it into the house and get it on your wireless network-"

  "We don't have Wi-Fi," I sigh. "I mean, he doesn't. He has his own Internet connection separate from the house line. It's part of his business thing."

  "Shit," Jennifer barks. "Then you'd need to access his computer directly, right. Damn it. I'm not going to ask you go sneaking around when he might catch you."

  "What is it you'd need me to do?"

  "I'll give you a thumb drive with a little program on it. All it has to do is get on his computer and connect to ours over the internet. It would be five minutes in his office, tops."

  "I can't," Alexis shudders. "As soon as I stick it in there he'll-"

  "I'm not letting her do that," I say, calmly.

  Jennifer gets up and paces, stopping to crouch and rub her calf.

  "You okay?"

  "Leg hurts, it's nothing," she sighs. "Old injury. You'd only need a couple of minutes. Is there a time you can think of when you know he'll be out of the house for a good while? Doing something important?"

  "Not when I wouldn't be with him," Alexis says.

  I scratch my head. "What about this rally?"

  "Rally?" Jennifer looks at me, hard. "What rally?"

  "He's holding a campaign event this coming weekend," Alexis says. "But we're all going to be there, even Hawk."

  I nod. "Nobody can just slip off. He'll have the house sealed up tight and have his eye on all of us."

  "What if he was distracted, somehow?" Jennifer says. "What can you tell me about this thing?"

  "Nothing yet," Alexis says, shrugging. "I'm going to be involved in setting it up, though. He won't do things like rent the fire hall himself. I always do that. I'll call people and setup itineraries, secretary stuff."

  Jennifer nods, slowly. "Do you think you can slip off and give me some information about it while he's planning it? I don't need much, we just need to know where it is and what he has planned."

  Alexis scrubs her hand through her hair, and plucks at her bandage. "I can do that. By phone?"

  "In person. A couple of times a week."

  Alexis nods. "Usual place?"

  "Take your runs when you can. We'll be watching. You," Jennifer looks at me, "Keep an eye on her. Don't let her get into more trouble."

  "Me?"

  "Yeah, you. Okay, time to go. You two need to get back home, and be careful."

  I take Alexis' hand and we head outside. In the car, she takes a long, shaking breath, and sits back in the seat. I start it up and back around, and pull out onto the road. It's been almost three hours since we left.

  "He'll be back by now," Alexis says, announcing my own thoughts. "How are we going to get back in?"

  "Same way we got out. Climb up. I'll show you."

  She nods, and yawns. "I feel like I've been awake for three days. All that stuff, did it happen today?"

  "Yeah," I yawn, too.

  Alexis curls up in the seat, turning to rest her forehead on my shoulder, and in a few minutes she's sleeping soundly, her breath tickling my arm. I shift and let her fall against me as I raise my arm and drape it over her shoulders. She murmurs something and nestles into my side as I rest my hand on her hip. I could get used to this.

  When we reach Paradise Falls, Alexis sits up and yawns again, and rubs at her eyes the way she used to when she fell asleep on the bus on a field trip, smacks her lips the way she used to when she dozed off on the way to school. She could always sleep anywhere and any time, just close her eyes and pass out.

  I never could, and when I was in the prime of my teenage years I'd stay awake all weekend and doze for a few hours for Monday. It never hit me until it was too late, how much I enjoy simply watching her sleep. She looks so serene and peaceful at rest, her soft lips parted as if expecting a kiss. I want to pull her to me and kiss her now, but I can see the tension quivering in her like a coiled spring, ready to pop.

  "Can we make it back in?"

  "Yeah. Hold on."

  As I turn back on to our street, I click the lights off and slowly, very slowly, drive around behind the house and pull in to Alex's spot next to the carriage house, and step out, motioning for her to stay quiet.

  Our biggest problem is that the backyard is well lit. Floodlights cast powerful beams a cross the yard. Even hiding along the fence won't matter. Alexis looks at me, and I lead her by the hand along the back of the carriage house. It means going under Lance's window, but we'll be the least exposed. I grab her hand and sprint to the porch and she follows me.

  I grab her hips and boost her up as she climbs up the side of the porch, then put my hands on her backside and push her over. She turns around and kneels on the roof of the porch as I drag myself up and over, spreading out my weight by splaying out my arms and legs.

  "Just like before," I whisper. "Up and over, to your window. Push it up and get inside. One at time. You first."

  Alexis nods, and shimmies up the corner molding, using the rails as handholds, until she gingerly slips out onto the beam that travels the length of the house, clinging to the moldings for dear life. I hold my breath as she works her way across, inch by inch, until she reaches the window.

  She slips and I freeze, watching her gingerly find her footing again as she grasps her windowsill and grunts, trying to push her window up. It doesn't budge, and I start to climb up, pulling myself past the foothold. I start to slip along the side of the house, clinging to it.

  Then the light in Alexis' room flips on, the window sash flies up, and a pair of hands grab her wrists and pull her inside.

  Alexis

  Now

  My foot slips and I have to stop, pushing panic back down into my guts. Every time I shift my toes, I feel like I'm going to fall and crash down on the porch roof, and break my leg or my neck. Inch by inch I make my way closer to the window, sighing when I can finally grasp the windowsill.

  I lean too much and my foot goes out from under me. Panic shocks up from my knees to my throat and I bit my lip to keep from crying out as I feel for footing and get my foot back in place. Then, more slowly, I slide in front of the window, make sure my feet are planted and my grip is good, and push on the window sash.

  It doesn't move.

  I push again, and it won't budge. This must be w
hy Hawk always tapped on my window. I know it's not locked, we left it open a couple of inches so we could pry it back open again. I set myself and push, and still it won't move.

  Then the light flicks on, blinding in my eyes, and I feel myself start to slip. The window flies open and hands grab my wrists, and pull.

  My feet slip off the molding and I kick my legs in the air, desperate for purchase, and cage a burning scream in my lungs, trying not to make a sound.

  May leans over my bed, holding my wrists. As I try to get my feet back on the side of the house, she leans backwards and pulls me in, dragging me across the bed. We both end up in a heap on the floor, and I roll off of her, wincing. May sits up and stares at me.

  "What the hell are you doing?" I snap.

  "What the hell are you doing?" she hisses back.

  Then, Hawk comes through the window at full clip, almost hurling himself into the room. He drags across the bed, yanking the bedclothes loose with his damned boots, and lands on the floor in between us, his massively muscled chest moving with his heavy breathing. He looks over at May, then back at me, then at May again, rolls and leaps to his feet, and checks the bedroom door, finding it locked. He turns around, red-faced.

  "You scared the shit out of me," he snaps.

  "Sorry," May folds her arms over her chest. "Alex was going to fall."

  "Keep your voices down," I snap, rising to my feet. I do my best to straighten the bed, then flop on it and groan, covering my eyes with my hands. It's almost midnight. I don't need this.

  "My head hurts," I whisper.

  "What happened?" May demands. "Where did you go?"

  "It's better if you don't know," I answer in a whisper. "Go back to your room."

  "It's not fair."

  I sit up a little and look at her. "It's not fair? Really? What are you, twelve?"

  "We'll talk another time," Hawk pats her shoulder. "Thank you for getting the window open. Go back to your room."