ELIJAH: A Suspense Novel

by Frank Redman

  “What are you—” She saw me pointing back to the kitchen, then said, “Weird.”

  We followed Charles into the garage.

  A solid black Suburban was aimed at the garage door.

  A solid black pistol was aimed at my chest.

  Charles owned them both.

  He displayed his sneer-smile in all its glory.

  I swallowed, my mouth suddenly very dry. I managed to say, “What are you doing?”

  “Just get in if’n you don’t mind.”

  “Charles, there’s no need for a gun.” I really, really hate guns.

  “I said get in.”

  Jenny said, “Why would you do this to us? Was this your plan all along?”

  The gun boomed.

  Jenny screamed.

  Tyler barked. A lot.

  I instinctively jumped and grabbed my chest, but the bullet travelled between Jenny and I as Charles had adjusted his aim. The gun’s report was so loud in the garage I wanted to cover my ears, but my hands were too worried about my chest.

  “I said get in the truck!”

  Tyler lunged in front of us and growled savagely at Charles. I’d never seen him so wild. Even from my vantage point behind the dog, I could see the exposed teeth under his snarled lips as he moved his head from side to side. His coat quivered in the rage.

  I glanced at Charles, hoping he wouldn’t shoot Tyler, but I hadn’t gathered enough wits at this point to try to talk either of them down. I thought I might have seen a nanosecond of remorse in Charles, but it could very well have been my imagination.

  The Suburban idled with the windows down, but even so, there was only a faint smell of exhaust in the closed garage. There must be some form of ventilation system. Or the fumes were drifting into the truck’s cabin.

  I decided Charles didn’t want to shoot us, I didn’t yet know why not, or he would have simply aimed and pulled the trigger. So I moved in front of Tyler and opened the door, creating a barrier between the big dog and Charles.

  Tyler didn’t project anything to me. I told him to jump into the truck, but he didn’t obey. He was no longer growling, though he tried to move around the open door.

  Jenny moved behind the dog, nudged him, and entered the Suburban.

  Tyler then decided to jump into the truck.

  I followed.

  Charles got into the driver’s seat and opened the garage door via remote.

  Nighttime.

  Nighttime?

  We had breakfast just a little while ago. Not in the morning, but at night. I realized my mouth was literally hanging open, so I closed it. None of this made sense.

  I looked at Jenny. Her eyes were blank, staring into some inner space.

  How long had we been asleep? A day? A day and a night and another day?

  What was Charles doing? How did he fit in with the enemy?

  None of this was in the script. But the story seemed to be running on rails and I couldn’t change tracks.

  It was too dark to see outside. The thick tinted windows didn’t help.

  I tried to open the door next to me, but the door handle did nothing. I looked for a lock and ran my hand across the door, no lock. These doors could only be opened from the outside like police cars. Yes, I have been in police cars.

  A metal mesh screen partitioned the front seats and the second row. The third row bench seat behind us was collapsed creating more cargo space.

  After some time driving on a small road, Charles turned onto a main road and picked up speed. He switched on the windshield wipers as it started to rain. Blurry miniature balls of light, reflecting headlights of oncoming traffic, danced on the windshield then died when the wipers swept across the glass.

  I felt small, insignificant. Like a tiny raindrop, my life would be wiped out.

  Charles didn’t turn on the truck’s heater, so it was cold.

  Jenny put on her jacket which she had been holding in her lap.

  Our backpacks were behind the seat.

  After we’d been driving for a while, I said to Charles, as pleasantly as possible to encourage a response in kind, “Where are we going?”

  “Don’t talk.”

  Great.

  Jenny had her hands in her lap, balled into fists.

  I touched her elbow to get her attention.

  She looked at me briefly, but didn’t say anything or make any other response, then returned to her inner space.

  I had to somehow figure out what to do next. We certainly just couldn’t jump out of a moving vehicle. Besides, the doors wouldn’t open. But was it any better to sit complacently and just let whatever happen, happen?

  No. I may not have control over the situation, but I did have control over myself. I wasn’t going to sit idly by and just disappear into the night.

  “Charles, what’s your play in this? Why are you helping them?”

  “Don’t talk. Trust me, it is better for you if you shut up, stupid kid.”

  I could see his beady eyes in the rearview mirror boring into me, as if trying to drive home a point.

  “Trust you? We did trust you. Look where that got us. I’m not sure if you noticed, but we’ve been taken hostage at gunpoint by a man we were supposed to trust, who’s instead aligned with the enemy!”

  I punched the empty passenger seat in front of me.

  Jenny woke from her stupor, but she made no effort to look around. We couldn’t see anything.

  Charles did not respond, but a few seconds later he hit the brakes and turned right. Through the tint, I could see light high in the window next to me. Light poles.

  Charles drove slowly and then stopped, turning the truck off. He left the keys in the ignition, got out, shut the door, remembered the keys, opened the door, retrieved them, and then shut the door again. He seemed to be nervous.

  I tried my door again, still wouldn’t open.

  Outside I could hear the deep rumbling of big rig diesel engines. An image flashed in my head of a truck stop, which would make sense considering Charles said he was a retired truck driver. Though it didn’t make sense why we’d be here, or what the killers would be doing here.

  The rain continued, and without the wipers, we couldn’t see out.

  I said to Jenny, “Are you okay?”

  She shook her head slightly. “I just want this to be over. Whatever they’re going to do, just get it over with.” A fresh tear streaked her cheek.

  I grabbed her hand and turned so that I faced her. “We can’t give up. We can never give up.” I thought for a moment, hedging on what I wanted to say, but said it anyway. “We will get out of this. I promise. Do you understand? We will fight back. Look at me.”

  She turned her head.

  “Promise me you will not give up. Promise.”

  She nodded, faked a weak smile, and squeezed my hand.

  The scars on my arm did not burn in reaction to this newest situation. Strange.

  I reached to scratch Tyler’s ears, who was on the seat on the other side of Jenny. He wasn’t in a talkative mood either, but I knew he would never give up. I knew, in truth, Jenny wouldn’t either. But just hours ago, she had watched her father dying on the floor. And we left him there to die.

  Things like this weren’t supposed to happen in Suburbia.

  I prayed. I prayed for strength to not fail Jenny. Or Tyler. Like I had failed my brother and sister. I prayed to the God of the angel armies to send an angel to help. A squadron of angels.

  Then I waited.

  At some point a door would open. I tried to stay sharp. Whatever opportunity presented itself, I would have to act fast.

  I heard voices outside my door and tensed. They seemed to be elevated, but I couldn’t pick out the words over the snoring truck engines and the rain.

  The back door of the Suburban opened. I whipped around to look, as did Jenny, and Tyler. The sound of truck engines and rain intensified.

  Charles stood in the rain, one finger making a quick gesture over his lips to quiet u
s. He bent to the ground then lifted and rolled a large limp body into the truck.

  What the hell?

  Blood leaked out of the body’s chest.

  Before I could say anything, he put a finger over his mouth again. Then he lifted another bleeding body into the truck.

  Two?

  He grabbed the backpacks and closed the door, restoring the solitude of the truck interior.

  A few seconds later he opened my door, motioned again for us to be quiet and gestured for us to follow him.

  I froze for a moment, but recognized if we were ever going to get away, it wouldn’t be by staying trapped in a truck. I hopped to the ground, reached back for Jenny and called Tyler.

  It rained hard. I wished I had my hoodie, but it was stuffed in my backpack.

  I could see Charles walk-crawl under the trailer of an eighteen-wheeler to the other side. Even for a big man, he managed to touch the ground with just feet and hands. Jenny and I copied him. Tyler followed with ease.

  It felt good to be moving, to be doing something, I just hoped the something didn’t lead directly to the bad guys.

  Again.

  We went under two more trailers. Each time Charles got to the other side, I could see his body turn left and right, as if looking for something. Or, maybe he was making sure he didn’t see something.

  After ten or so trailers, I was no longer glad to be doing something. Except for the brief respite of walk-crawling under each trailer, I got pummeled by rain. And colder despite the exercise.

  One more trailer and Charles grabbed my arm as I cleared and steered me to the cab. Someone inside held the door open at arm’s length.

  Again, despite my geekdom, I’m not a small guy. I’m not ever going to be confused with Arnold Schwarzenegger. But even at six-foot, 190 lbs., Charles picked me up, yelled “Duck!” and tossed me into the cabin like a sack of potatoes.

  He was gentle with Jenny, but evidently in such a hurry he did not want to wait for us to climb on our own.

  Tyler was next. I didn’t think he would let Charles pick him up, but it wasn’t necessary. Tyler either understood what was happening or didn’t want to leave us alone. He jumped up into the cab on his own.

  Charles took one last glance around, climbed in, slammed the door, and locked us in. He pressed a button on the dash and all of the windows, including the windshield, went opaque, closing off the outside world.

  Chapter Sixteen

  We were in a cavernous semi-truck sleeper cab. A curtain separating the driver section and the sleeping quarters was pulled back, opening the entire space. Jenny sat in a chair by a bed. I stood next to her. I didn’t even have to bend over. Charles sat in the driver captain’s chair. Tyler sat contentedly next to a black man in the passenger captain’s chair getting his ears scratched and neck rubbed.

  Tyler said, This is nice. I like it here. I like this man. Who is he? Tell him not to stop.

  That was the first time he’d “talked” to me in quite a while. He didn’t seem to want to tear into Charles any more, and he obviously liked the man next to him.

  Tyler said, See how I protected you? I deserve a treat for that. See if he has Cheetos.

  I relaxed. But not completely. “What’s going on, Charles? What’s happening here? Who were those men you dumped in the Suburban?”

  The black man laughed. A deep, musical bass. “C-Man, you really got them con-fused!” He chuckled some more, shaking his head slightly.

  C-Man?

  Charles reached to the side of the driver’s seat, pressed a button, then swiveled the chair to face everyone. He sneer-smiled. “Elijah, Jenny, this is Ray Sanders.

  Ray smiled—a real smile, radiant, perfect teeth, full of kindness, and no sneer involved. “Hi folks! I’m your Ray of sunshine in an otherwise dreary world.” He spread his arms wide. He had a wavy intonation in his speech that reminded me of a classic jazz singer. “Consider me your guardian angel, God’s appointment.” He smiled and chuckled softly, then reached back down to continue Tyler’s ear-scratching.

  Charles said, “Ray will take care of y’all from here. The fake Feds know who I am now. I’m no longer safe for you so here’s where I leave the story.”

  I said, “I don’t understand. You’re not with the enemy?”

  Ray laughed, a smooth infectious bass, slow and genuine. It made me smile in spite of everything that’s happening.

  Jenny looked at me, smiling as well.

  Maybe God did send an angel.

  Ray said, fisting his own chest, “C-Man may look like a serial killer, but inside, he’s all heart.”

  Jenny said, “Then what was the point of hijacking us in the Suburban with a gun?”

  I said, “Where did you get the Suburban? Is it one of theirs?”

  C-Man—I mean Charles—said, “I know y’all have a lot of questions. I understand. But you have to get on the road. Ray knows the story and will explain everything.”

  “C-Man is right. We only have a few minutes to collect ourselves, then we need to scoot before the enemy catches on. Elijah—I love that name, brother—get the wig out of the backpack C-Man brought for you and put it on.”

  I opened Charles’s backpack, realizing I’d never looked inside. I pulled out a long platinum blonde wig, and laughed. “You want me to wear this?”

  Ray said, “Yes, sir. And the sweat suit.” He chuckled and winked at Jenny.

  “What?” I dug into the backpack and lifted a grey and pink velour sweat suit. “No way!”

  Jenny and Ray laughed. Even Tyler grinned.

  Charles said, “You want to live, son? You don’t know nothin’ about disguises. There’s no point in disguisin’ just a little. You want the enemy’s eyes to pass right over you without the slightest subconscious flag because of who you are or because of the disguise. With that, you’ll look like a middle-aged female on a road trip. There’s a matching grey beret in there also.”

  “How did you know my size?”

  “It’s a sweat suit. Who cares?”

  I sighed. I knew he was right. But velour? Grey and pink, no less? Come on. I sighed again, then mumbled something that might have sounded like, “You look like a middle-aged woman…”

  Jenny was the only one close enough to hear me. She smiled.

  Tyler said, No need to be immature.

  Oh great, the dog heard me. Worse, he’s chastising me. A dog. Who knows what immature means. I looked at Tyler and said, “I know someone who needs a bath.”

  Don’t be petty.

  Ugh!

  “Fine. Is there a bathroom here I can use to change?”

  Ray said, “No, one of the few things not in this palace on wheels.”

  “Everybody turn around, then. You too Tyler.”

  He said, Whatever. But he turned his head.

  Jenny dug around in the backpack given to her to see her disguise.

  I changed into the sweat suit and put on the wig. My black hiking boots looked out of place. “Any shoes?”

  Everyone looked at me. And laughed. “Okay, get it over with,” I said.

  Charles said, “You might wanna stuff your bra. You don’t even have mosquito bites worth seeing.”

  “I don’t have a bra.”

  “Oh yes you do. Look in the pack.”

  Ugh!

  Tyler grinned even wider now, tongue lolling.

  “I think we need to disguise Tyler as a poodle.”

  Tyler quit grinning.

  Ray said, “No need, he’s not getting out of the truck.”

  I pulled down the sweat suit far enough to put on the bra. Jenny helped after watching me in amusement struggle to clasp the thing. I rolled some long socks and strategically inserted them.

  Charles winked at me and said, “What’s your name, honey?”

  “Ha ha.”

  “There are some white Converse at the bottom of the pack.”

  I removed my boots and put them on. They were too small, but I’d live.

  Jenny said
, “My turn. Turn around.”

  I said, “Do I have to?”

  “No, not you, Ellie.”

  “Really?”

  “No.”

  Sadness.

  A few moments later, Jenny said, “All set.”

  She had a brown wig in a bob hairstyle, her long hair tucked under the wig, a Texas Rangers baseball cap, her same jeans—not fair—and an oversized dark green winter coat. She smiled at me.

  She’d look beautiful wearing a burlap sack.

  Charles said, “Nice. Okay, here’s the game plan: Despite your whining—” He looked at me—“we’ve only spent fifteen minutes here. Like Ray said, there’s no bathroom aboard this rig. Elijah, you’ll go into the truck stop first, don’t be rude but don’t stop to talk to anyone. Walk a little feminine, falsetto your voice if you have to talk, but not too much, go to the bathroom, then come back. Don’t look at anything. Don’t buy anything. Don’t draw attention to yourself.”

  “I’ll look strange in the men’s restroom.”

  He opened a cabinet under a small sink and handed me a small paper towel. Then said, “Go to the women’s restroom. Don’t look around, sit down on the toilet. Don’t fart too loud. Don’t wash your hands.” He handed me the paper towel. “Cover your face as you enter and leave the bathroom, as if it stinks to high heaven. Don’t mess around. In and out. If anyone looks at you closely, they’ll see you’re a man.”

  He looked at Jenny. “When either of you exit or come back to the truck, go under one trailer. If someone sees you, go under another. Act like y’all know what you’re doin’. Don’t walk straight down the row to this truck. When you return, knock once on the passenger door.” He looked at his watch. “We need to be gone in less than fifteen minutes. Go.”

  I went. Water still fell from the sky, but more of a sprinkle instead of a heavy rain. Light from tall poles in the parking lot reflected off the water droplets and caused thick shadows to gather under the trailers.

  I ducked under one of the trailers and moved to the other side, then power walked with a little extra hip sway to the truck stop.

  When I reached the double lane in front of the main doors, I was able to see the enormity of the place for the first time. Dozens of eighteen-wheelers, motorhomes, and various other kinds of big trucks occupied long parking lanes. The place was huge.