by A. R. Braun
Dick shivered from the cold and opened his eyes. A huge, African-American man with a shaven head now sat across from him. The stranger frowned while glaring with the devil’s eyes, squinty and bloodshot. He flashed a cold smile, revealing dingy yellows.
Damn nigger. Why can’t he leave me alone?
This was the biggest man Dick had ever seen. The man’s muscles seemed to bulge out of his muscles, almost ripping the sleeves of the orange jail suit.
“You gonna eat that cake?” the man asked in the deepest voice Dick had ever heard, like a tape playing in slow motion.
Dick trembled as anxiety ripped away his courage. He wanted to tell the guy to fuck off, but couldn’t do anything with it. “Why no.”
“Good.” The bear of a man swiped the slice of cake that sat on a small paper plate away. He stuffed it into his mouth and chewed it with his maw open, giving Dick a good look at the masticated chunks.
I think I just lost my goddamned appetite.
A sickening gulp followed. The man took Dick’s milk and guzzled it in one drink. Gulp, gulp, gulp. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and the smile turned to a scowl. “Heard what you did.”
Dick avoided the man’s eyes and wished he could crawl under a rock. Running and hiding sounded like an acceptable option, if he even had the fortitude for that. But he didn’t. Dick trembled, no longer able to hold his fork.
“We don’t take kindly to guys who kidnap and rape their daughters in here.”
A guard walked up to Dick. “Hey K06576, feel up to an interview?”
Dick snapped his head toward the guard. “R-Really?”
“Yes, the press is here. The sheriff says it’s all right.”
Dick turned to look at the gargantuan, then back at the guard, who, though not a little man, looked little compared to the man sitting across from him.
Saved by the bell.
“Why… s-sure.”
The guard smirked. “Come on, then.” Then he surveyed the lunch tray. “Well, I guess you can eat first.”
Dick shook his head. “I’m not very hungry.” He rose too quickly, knocking the tray over and spilling the green beans all over his new “buddy.” “Oh God! I’m so sorry!”
“You got-damn, sick-ass fool! I oughta kick your ass for that!”
The guard said, “Calm down, K08444. It was an accident.”
The hamburger sat on the table intact.
Dick pointed at it. “Have my burger, as a gesture of apology.”
K08444 wiped off his jail suit, frowning while looking over the burger. “Don’t mind if I do. Guess I won’t beat ya,” he almost growled.
“T-Thank you. Thank you very much.” Dick stuck his sweaty hand out for a shake.
The man looked him over with those sinister eyes again, not accepting the hand. “This time.”
Dick looked up at the guard. “C-Can I go to the bathroom first?”
The guard pointed and laughed at Dick. “Scared the shit out of him, K08444.” He cackled.
K08444 joined in on the revelry.
Dick trembled so badly he could barely stand. “L-Let’s go, please.”
The guard tried to finish laughing, but it didn’t look easy. “Ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha-ha.” He drew a deep breath. “Bah-ha-ha-ha-ho. Oh, man. All right, come on.”
Dick was never gladder to exit a scene.
Goddamn bunch of smartasses.
He followed the guard through a series of locked-down doors, opening with a scraping and electrical sound, then slamming shut. After a few minutes, they came to a room with one table, fluorescent lights, and no windows. A man with glasses and a three-piece suit looked anxious as he sat waiting.
“Hey.” The guard chuckled. “Just like the prison you put your daughter in.”
Dick was about to attempt a laugh when the guard stopped chuckling and scowled. “Get in there.”
Dick walked in, listening to his footfalls clack, then jumped as the guard slammed the door. Dick pulled out the chair, which grated on the concrete floor. He sat, then turned around to see the guard standing inside the door.
“Don’t try anything funny,” the guard warned.
“Mr. Alley,” the man in the suit said, making Dick turn around. The stranger held out his hand for a shake. “I’m Bob Viados, reporter for the Mowquakwa Daily Times.”
Dick shook with him. The man groaned at Dick’s iron grip.
Limp-fish pussy.
“Well, then.” Bob whipped out a mini tape recorder and set it on the table. “Mind if I record this?”
“I don’t give a shit,” Dick answered.
“As you know, the press is eating this story up.”
“Oh god, they would,” the guard murmured.
Dick craned his neck to look at him. “Do you mind?”
The guard hissed and shook his head.
“Anyhoo,” Bob continued, “the public is wondering if you feel remorse for what you did to your foster daughter and her children. You must be sorry you put them through that.”
Dick sighed and rubbed his eyes. He locked eyeballs with the man who sat eagerly awaiting a reply. “I just did what every father wishes he had the guts to do.”
The guard laughed. “Oh my fuckin god.”
Dick whipped his head around, trying hard to give him a look that killed. He turned his head to see the reporter wide-eyed, eyebrows raised.
Bob cleared his throat. “I’m a father, and I don’t want to kidnap and rape my daughter. It wouldn’t be decent.”
Dick shook his head. “Well good for you, Mary Poppins.”
“Watch it,” the guard warned.
“But,” Bob continued, “Stacey and her children are damaged psychologically. And sick. Do you know they’ve got an oxygen deprivation illness, anemia, and a vitamin D deficiency? Therese, your oldest daughter, is in a coma.” Bob shook his head. “You don’t have any regrets at all? Your own daughter and granddaughters?”
“Shit.” Dick leaned back, placing his hands behind his head. “Stacey ain’t my real daughter anyway.”
Bob blinked. “Okay.” He rubbed his temple.
God, he has a squirrely voice. Bet he’s got no game with women, the fucking faggot.
Dick scowled. “So who gives a fuck?” he yelled.
Bob cleared his throat again. “I think Stacey and her children give a care, Mr. Alley, as well as ninety-nine percent of the population, who thinks something like his is unthinkable.”
Dick furrowed his brow. “Fuck them. And fuck you, too, you fucking pansy!”
“All right, that’s enough,” the guard said. “This interview is over.”
<^^>
Stacey’s mind was fit to the full of nothing but pure panic. The last song they’d played in the hallway of the ward, “Dancing Queen” by Abba, ran over and over in her head, non-stop. Amanda had finally coaxed her into sitting down, but she fidgeted in her chair.
She rocked back and forth. “Mmmmmmmm!”
“Stacey?”
She shook her head, continuing to rock and mumble.
“Calm down, now. Your daughter is going to get through this. With a lot of prayer, I’m sure Therese will come out of the—”
Stacey unhooked her arrowhead necklace and tried to slit her wrists. The silver didn’t break the skin well. Only slight scars formed.
Amanda rose. “Oh my god!” She ran to the door and unlocked it, yelling for the orderlies.
Stacey pushed harder.
Not even any blood. Come on, come on!
The two orderlies Stacey had become familiar with ran in, eyes wide while looking her over.
Amanda pointed at her. “She’s trying to kill herself! Take her to the quiet room.”
Stacey felt betrayed as she surveyed Amanda’s blanching face. The orderlies moved toward her.
Stacey rose. “Don’t you come near me!”
Amanda frowned and sneaked glances at her after looking away for a few seconds. Her eyes were sad, the part of the face that didn’t li
e. “I’m sorry, Stacey, but you’re suicidal.”
The orderlies grabbed her with grips like vises. Stacey struggled to no avail to get away from the strapping young lads.
“Let me go,” Stacey cried. “Get your man-whore hands off me!” Sweat poured into her eyes as they moved her toward the door.
Amanda had left. She’d probably seen enough.
Stacey’s tennis shoes scraped the floor, squeaking up a storm. “Get your hands off me, you cocksuckers!”
The other patients on the floor stopped pacing, playing checkers, cards, or talking while sitting with each other. They stared Stacey down. A young man with glasses who sat in front of the communal TV even laughed and pointed.
They’re going to put me in there and rape me, just like Dick. Yeah, damn Dick. The dicks are all the same!
She leaned her head forward and tried to bite Zander’s arm, but he pushed her head back with his other hand.
“Cut it out,” he said.
“Stacey, this is for your own good,” Wesley said.
She tried to bite him as well. He pushed her back with more vigor and stealth. Stacey’s head rocked from the shove.
“Sorry,” he said.
They went in and out of some corridors till they reached a room with a steel door with a small window. While Zander unlocked it, Wesley held her from behind. Her wrists were chafed. Stacey thrashed and flailed the best she could, but hardly moved. Her shoes kicked the tile floor, just scuffing it.
Wesley pushed her in. She stumbled and fell on the green, padded floor. She cried out after sitting down hard. White, padded walls adorned the room.
Zander came in carrying a straightjacket.
Stacey screamed.
They hurried to her, yanking her up and shoving her arms into the accessory.
“Goddamn you, you raping pigs! Leave me alone!”
They secured the straps over her arms in front and departed. They slammed the door and locked it.
“Aaaaaahhhhhh,” Stacey cried.
She rose, ran toward the door, and peeked out the window. All she saw was the rear of the nurses’ desk to the right and the two orderlies walking into a white hallway to the left. She darted her eyes back and forth quickly, sweat pouring down her face, as she looked for a way out of the nightmare that couldn’t possibly exist.
“Let me out, you motherfuckers!”
Stacey bawled and felt faint; she Indian-sat on the padded floor. Stacey was so scared she thought her mind would explode. She wanted to get up and pace, but exhaustion gripped her.
Oh my god this can’t be happening god please make the fear go away please don’t take my Therese her and the other kids were the only reason I made it this far please don’t take my sanity and my baby PLEASE!
The walls rushed in on her as she looked at them.
Then she saw the black water bugs crawling her way from the corners of the ceilings.
Oh god, they’re coming, and they’re hungry!
“No-ho-ho!”
She shrieked. Stacey was tempted to cackle madly, but feared she’d never be able to stop.
<^^>
Amanda sat with Devon at the small table in the play area on the children’s ward. The walls were decorated with blue sky and clouds, plus various other painted characters that were supposed the make the kids feel better, like Snoopy in his fighter plane, Tigger, and Winnie the Pooh. Sam played with the triplets. Bobbi had finally calmed down, banging on a Fisher Price keyboard. Louisa and Kyra played with spooky dolls.
Devon never looked worse. She sat with her hands locked together, surreptitiously glancing at Amanda, then back at her sisters. A blizzard drowned the city night from the window. Devon’s eyes became wide every few seconds. Her mouth twitched and she appeared to tremble.
“Honey,” Amanda asked. “What’s wrong?”
Devon bonked her head down on the table. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” she whined.
Amanda put a hand on her stick-like arm. “But that’s why you’re here, hon. You need to talk about it.”
Devon raised her head, running her fingers through her carroty mane while looking toward her sisters. “They’ll hear,” she whispered.
Amanda searched them out with her eyes. The cries of play roared. She didn’t think they’d overhear Devon, but she felt the need to comply with her wishes so she’d feel better. “Okay. Let’s take a short walk.”
They got up, Amanda gingerly putting a hand on Devon’s back to guide her.
Sam looked up. “Where are you taking her?”
Amanda stopped. “It’s all right, honey. We’re just going across the room to talk for a few minutes.”
Sam furrowed her brow, but went back to playing with Bobbi.
Bobbi shot up. “I wanna go, too!”
“Bobbi,” Sam cried, pulling her back down. “No.”
“I just need to talk to your sister alone for a second,” Amanda continued.
“She’s not my sister!” Bobbi shot back up.
Devon put her face in her hands.
Amanda moved her about twenty paces away, to a couple of vacant brown couches in the middle of the large ward. The kids not in Stacey’s family sat close to them in the TV room on similar brown couches, under the idiot box’s spell.
Amanda sat across from Devon. “What’s going on?”
<^^>
Devon looked up, tears in her eyes, her mouth trembling. “Everything’s supposed to be better now, but it’s not.” Her chirpy high voice trembled more than she did, and her mind spun like a weathervane in a tornado.
Amanda rose, sat by her, and put her arm around Devon’s shoulders. “I know, kiddo. It’s getting rough.”
“They’re… driving me crazy.” Devon sobbed and sniffed, wiping her nose with her hand.
Amanda got up and retrieved a box of tissues from the nurses’ station. She handed it to her as she sat.
Devon took a few tissues and dabbed her nose and eyes.
“What’s bothering you so much?”
Devon frowned as she looked up at her. “First I can’t see my mom, then Therese goes in a coma, and now Bobbi says I’m not her sister.”
Amanda stroked her hair and Devon buried her head on Amanda’s shoulder. When her tears had finally run dry, Devon raised her head and noticed the other kids, the ones not in her family, eyeing her nervously as she held Amanda. Her peers were no longer interested in the TV.
“You kids just watch television now,” Amanda yelled. “It’s no big deal. Devon’s just upset.”
A wisp of a blond girl who sat in front of the TV yelled, “Is she gonna be okay?”
Amanda smiled. “Yes, honey, she’ll be fine.”
“No I won’t,” was Devon’s muffled reply. “I think I’m going nuts.”
<^^>
Amanda’s heart broke as she blew air from her nose. “Now listen, I know things are getting rough, but your mother and the other kids have been through a nightmare, too. It’s nothing to lose your mind about. With our prayers, I’m sure Therese will come out of her coma soon, and your little sisters will come to accept that you’re their sister.”
Devon pulled her head up, wiping her face with tissues, leaving little scraps of cloth like snow on her red face, which she rubbed off. Her visage almost matched her coppery hair now. She stared straight ahead. “My nerves are shot.”
Amanda rubbed her back. “Maybe I should tell the doctor to raise your medication dose for a while.”
“How’s Mom?”
Amanda sighed. “She feels a lot like you do right now.”
Devon looked at the floor. “Can we see Therese?”
“I’m afraid Therese has been transferred to Mowquakwa General Hospital until she comes out of the coma.”
Devon looked up, eyes wide. “We can’t see her?”
“I’m afraid not, sorry. That mob of reporters outside is the last thing you need. I’ll talk to Bobbi, you know, try to get through to her. But you and your mom are going to be just fin
e, and so is Therese. We can arrange for you girls to attend the service at church here with the chaplain. We’ll have a candlelight vigil for Therese, if you like.”
Devon nodded. “That would be nice.” She blew her nose so loudly, Amanda was surprised her brains didn’t pour out with the snot. “When can I see my mom?”
Oh god. I’ve got no answer for her. Think. You’re the doctor. Damn it, think!
“Your… mother,” Amanda responded, “is going to need some more time.”
Devon pinned her with her eyes. “I want to see my mom, and I want to see her now.”
Amanda bent down before her, holding her hands. “Your mother… she’s been… traumatized. I won’t lie to you. Your father was very mean to her before you kids were born. Just give her a few days.”
Devon bawled.
“Oh honey,” Amanda said.
Devon yanked her hands out of Amanda’s grip and shot up, scowling up at her as if she were an angry imp.
“I want to see my mother,” she screamed.
Amanda was nonplussed.
“Now!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Kevin sat in front of the TV after work, his feet up on the end table. He grinned as he watched the details of Marie Alley’s upcoming arraignment.
He hadn’t been happier in years.
I had to pull some strings, but I got it. I’m working the Dick Alley trial. No matter that I had to give up my Bulls tickets. It’s all just goddamned worth it.
The expensive heating system kicked on and made Kevin shudder with comfort. He lit his pipe and drew in the bitter smoke, blowing smoke rings. The kids were upstairs, and the wife was cooking dinner. The children’s banging on the floor irritated him, making Kevin wonder if they’d crash through the roof.
He got up and stomped to the foot of the stairs. “Be quiet up there or no supper!”
He walked back over, easing onto the davenport which whooshed at his butt’s arrival. The banging upstairs ceased. Kevin picked up his glass of scotch, the ice clinking, and drained it. He grabbed the remote and turned up the TV.
“… for Marie Alley denies she knew her husband had imprisoned his daughter, saying she’d believed the ransom note and accepted that the kidnapper had dropped off half of Stacey’s children on their doorstep that…”