Whirlwind: Where are our Children ( A Serial Novel) Episode 9 of 9

by Gary Sapp

him and was quickly seated in a wheel chair by an old woman who began pushing him up and over to the gravesite. Chris laid a single hand on the largest of the Peacekeeper’s shoulders and the big man greeted the old woman half way. She thanked him kindly as the Peacekeeper wheeled Thomas over to where the remainder of the mourners stood.

  If Dr. Seth Dupree didn’t look well then Thomas Pepper was a dead man riding. He didn’t look anything like the man he last saw trying to aid the FBI nab Serena Tennyson in that hotel without further incident six months ago. He’d dropped 50 pounds easily. He had dark circle camped out underneath his eyes. He gave Chris and the others only a faint nod in acknowledgement of his arrival. Chris decided after a few awkward minutes that Thomas either didn’t speak to him because he didn’t know what to say, or because he lacked the strength to say it.

  So Christopher Prince stooped as low as his own frame allowed and wrapped a single arm around the frail looking man and hugged him instead.

  Thomas Pepper’s face was a casserole of emotions.

  Roxanne Sanchez looked as emotional as she released him after all of the tributes had been paid, after all of the tears had been shed, and after some goodbyes had been said.

  Chris needed Roxanne.

  Chris needed a drink nearly as much.

  Chris needed the smallest measure of peace that he knew he was never going to find.

  He hid his discomfort by twisting back around and peering at the gravesite of his loved ones one last time.

  No man should ever bury his family.

  No man should, but Christopher Prince was going to bury his.

  He had the love of his life standing next to him, but the path that he’d chosen to walk as the One of a House in Chains had altered his path forever.

  He searched the gray sky, he searched the headstones of his father and brother and then he searched the eyes of the woman that he loved so very dearly for a sign—any sign that he would receive absolution for all of his past sins.

  He was now more certain than ever that that day would never come.

  Angel

  Christopher said, “I know this place.”

  Dr. Angel Hicks Dupree took off her hat and unbuttoned her coat, with what seemed like a daily rainstorm finally ending after a 30 minute downpour. She cautiously limped down the hill towards the playground and angled towards the swings. The weather was warming at its own pace after the rain had passed. The birds were singing and rejoicing. The four Peacekeepers assigned to Christopher’s security detail weren’t so jovial. She knew that they were probably still muttering their complaints and curses after he’d ordered them to allow this conversation between himself and his childhood friend without their interruption.

  Seth, to her surprise, had accepted her explanation as well when asked him to stay in the car and wait for her to return. She saw Roxanne raise her eyebrows, hopeful that she would go through with it.

  “Of course you recognize it, silly,”

  Chris looked as if he were taking it all in again—and for the first time as well.

  “This was our place.”

  “Yea,” Angel’s smile rivaled her best friend’s. “Yea, a very long time ago this was our place, Christopher.”

  “Damn,” He walked around and touched the swings as if he were assuring himself that they were real. “I’m out in this area quite a bit in my work…well at least I used to pass through this neighborhood after a day’s work in the field office. It’s amazing how you look at something every day yet you never actually see it. Damn,” He repeated himself. “How could I almost forget this place was here?”

  Christopher took off his coat jacket, rolled up the sleeves and tossed it over a nearby branch. He was looking so fit. He’d kept the weight off since the drastic weight loss he’d started after Serena’s last night on this—

  Don’t think about Serena. Don’t think about Lisa Healy…

  Unfortunately, she recognized the redness—the dullness that shadowed over his eyes that wasn’t from crying at the ceremony earlier or from lack of sleep.

  Angel knew a budding drunk when she saw one.

  “Yes, this old girls is still standing, Christopher,” Angel patted the metal in the middle of the slide with some affection. She ended up having to rub the rust off of her fingers. “She’s survived being underfunded, the chaos of the 1996 Olympic Games, two earthquakes and Serena’s Whirlwind that rampaged right down there on Clemons Street.”

  Christopher let loose with a low whistle.

  Angel knew that it was past time to get on with this. And yet, it was Christopher who beat her to it.

  “I’d remembered when you’d walk up to my bedroom window every day during our summer vacation.”

  “It wasn’t every day, Christopher.”

  “Every day,” He said with some finality. You would lean on my window sill with your hands in motion like this,” He made a pushing motion that Angel recognized almost immediately. She used to use the hand action as a signal to him to come outside and push her on the swings. Of all of the playground equipment, Angel had always loved the swings best.

  “I would,” She nodded and her lips boasted a full smile. She sat down on the driest swing she could find. “I especially would do that after getting on your nerves about whatever a preteen gets on the nerve of a teenager about. I’d see you in the bedroom and hit you with the most pathetic gaze I could muster.”

  Christopher laughed. It was the most wonderful sound in the world.

  “They were pathetic, Doc,”

  “I know.” The memory of one specific smile and result brought another smile to her face. “But I would wait for you to motion with your hands like you were doing pushups like I just did and I knew that you would be outside to push me on the swings again. It was always your personal way of letting me know that no matter how much I had aggravated or angered you that you have forgiven me. It was your private way of telling me that everything was alright.”

  Chris nodded through her last spill.

  “I know, Doc. Believe it or not, I’ve always been hip to your schemes—always sharper than you gave me credit for.”

  Angel hugged the iron chains tightly and lifted her weight off the ground.

  “Well, Christopher, if you were as smart as you claim to have been, how come you always fell for my act?”

  “I didn’t,” Chris smile lid up his dark face and an otherwise murky day. “Okay, it didn’t work every time.”

  “Yes, Christopher, it worked every time.”

  “Come on, Doc,” He said. “Sometimes I actually wanted to do other things…you know like play basketball with the fellas or go and chase some girls my age or perhaps a little older.”

  “Whatever, Christopher,” She replied. “I really think you got some perverse pleasure from purposely keeping my in suspense long after you knew that you would give in once again.”

  “Maybe, maybe I did, Angel.” Christopher’s tone had grown more serious. “I’ve always given in to you, even when you did the most screwed up things. That’s how we ended up sleeping together that one time. Yea, you were there for me when I was growing through it after Hoshi passed but—but that shit could have ruined a wonderful friendship.” He shook off something rattling off in his bald head. “I’m always forgiving you for something.” Christopher’s stance had grown almost defensive. “I’ve got this feeling over the past few months that something has been bugging you. Why did you bring me back to place, Angel? What in the hell do you need forgiveness for this time?”

  “Would you push me one more time?”

  Christopher frowned in confusion, but finally took his familiar place behind her and began to push her higher and higher until her stomach was tying up in tiny knots. It was wonderful. It was terrifying.

  It was like it had always been before.

  “You need to hear this from me before I take the stand up in Washington DC in front of the Grand Jury tomorrow morning.”

  “Are you talking about the final testimon
y about your role during that small stint you spent with Serena Tennyson and Pandora?”

  “Yes,”

  “Alright, Doc,” He continued to push her on a rotating basis. “Shoot,”

  “I’m responsible for much of Keaton’s acceptance of his Hugh persona. The strength that he’d gained from our psychological sessions probably gave him the push he needed to go with on with his plans to kidnap Moses Jackson and Atlanta’s other’s missing children.”

  “We’ve discussed all of this before, Doc,” He said, but his voice rattled in discomfort. “I’d read all of your reports. I know all of this—“

  “Then you know nothing, Christopher,” Angel exhaled in exasperation. Chris hands were warm on her back with every push. “When Serena Tennyson recruited me, I was already having therapy sessions with Hugh Keaton. He had been a patient of mine off and on for years. I thought I had been getting to the heart of his ailments. I thought that I needed to engage the Hugh persona if I was going to gain any knowledge or reach any acceptable level for treatment for him. I thought I had rehabbed him.

  “And you were at least partly successful, Angel, congratulations.” Yet, Christopher’s tone mocked the words that were coming out of his mouth. “And we all know how this story turned out. While this man was embedded in his Hugh persona, as you call it, he killed Erica in order to help Serena get under my skin. Can we let this go already?”

  “There is more, Christopher,” Every word she said was softer than the one that came before it as she stopped her swinging motion and glanced