Lenny pulled the already rigid corpse out of the hold where it fell like a piece of lumber. He left the door open to air it out.
Paulo descended the steps. He saw what Lenny had done and came to close the door. “We really going to leave him here? Out in the open?”
“No,” Lenny said. “Take him inside the jail. Use the side entrance and make sure to knock the handle off. Light a fire after ya drop him. Make sure it’s big.”
“A fire? That’ll trigger an alarm and the firemen will—”
“They’ll come and bring any other cops with ’em,” Lenny explained. “Draws their focus here. The fire should keep ’em busy awhile and then they’ll have to figure out how it all happened. All that time helps us get furtha away.”
Paulo picked up the body and ran across the street.
Lenny watched him go. He reminded himself that he should be elated. He had fulfilled Oscar’s wishes by successfully capturing Garrett Weaver and Marisa Bourgeois. Not to mention the rumored Silkstealer. Freedom awaited him upon their safe return.
Alone for once, Lenny closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting the rain drizzle on his face to wash away his guilt. He stayed that way for a long while, refusing to open them until he heard footsteps running back across the street. Whattaya doin’ here, kid?
“I’ve made my decision,” said Kellen. “I’m coming with you.”
Lenny glanced up at the tinted bus windows, wondering if Oscar had already seen Kellen. “Ya don’t wanna do that. What ya should do is run. Get out—”
“And go where?” Kellen said. “Your buddy is right. Where am I going to go? If what Boone said was true, they’re going to send me to prison for attempted murder.”
“I dunno anything—”
“You think I should go back to my jail cell and wait for others to come?” Kellen asked. “What do I tell them happened? Hmm? Think they’ll believe me that someone turned into a seal and killed Sheriff Hullinger? Or some kid shot Murphy? And what about the fire?”
Lenny looked across the street. The beginnings of smoke trickled out of the jail windows and doorways.
“Tell ’em whateva ya want.” Lenny tried to keep his voice low so Oscar wouldn’t hear. “This life isn’t what ya think it is.”
“It can’t be worse than here,” Kellen said.
“Things can always be worse,” said Lenny.
Kellen shook his head. “My parents hate me. My mom abandoned me. And my dad…He wouldn’t even talk to me on the phone.”
“Well, boo-frickin’-hoo. We all got problems.”
“Kellen!” Oscar stepped off the bus. “Made your decision, have you?”
“I think so. This place we’re going…is it far away from here?”
Oscar grinned. “Leagues away.”
“That’s what I want.”
“Wonderful.” Oscar clapped Kellen on the shoulder and led him toward the front of the bus. He stopped just shy of the doorway and the third hold opening.
“Now. Before we go…I’ll ask you one last time. You should be happy with your decision, after all. Are you certain in your want to come with us?”
“I want to go,” Kellen said firmly.
“As you wish.”
Oscar shoved him into the hold.
Kellen slid to the back on the remains of Ellie’s blood. He clanged against the side.
Lenny saw him spin to look out the door, his blue eyes wide.
“No!”
I tried to warn ya.
Oscar slammed the door closed, locked it. He smoothed his hair back. “Did you hear that, Len? Kellen asked to be Salted!”
“Nobody smart asks to be Salted,” Lenny said.
“Well, who ever accused slaves of being smart?” Oscar clapped his hands together, then stretched. “Ah. I do love this profession. Right then, order Paulo to hustle along, won’t you? I want to set off for home.”
“Aye,” said Lenny.
He didn’t bother watching Oscar reboard.
A captain’s gotta have all the answers, Lenny reflected on his father’s words. Lenny didn’t feel like he had any answers right now. As he stared at the closed hold doors, he wondered if anyone ever truly did.
We did the right thing, Ellie’s voice echoed in his mind.
Lenny looked up at the bus windows. He couldn’t see her through the tinted glass, but he felt her presence behind them, watching him.
You did the right thing, she said. Your father will be proud.
Lenny wished he had her certainty. His earrings flashed. Pop’s not gonna find out. No one can know what we did tonight.
I know what you did. What you risked by doing it. Chidi, Racer…they know it too. Seven people escaped slavery tonight because of you.
Yeah, said Lenny. And it only took slavin’ six others to do it.
I realize you Dolans aren’t known for your optimism, said Ellie. But try to think on the good things…at least one good thing.
What’s that?
There’s a little girl somewhere in Chicago that will see her dad again because of you, said Ellie. She’ll never know Zymon was almost stolen from her forever. She won’t have to grow up wondering why he never came back. She won’t wonder if it was something she did wrong. Or what she would say or do if she had just one more chance to be in his arms again.
Lenny turned away; not wishing Ellie to see her words moved him. He saw smoke seeping out the jail windows, and heard the side door clang open as Paulo exited. Lenny’s earrings flashed. Hustle up, Paulie. Gotta move out before more Drybacks get here.
Lenny used the back of his hand to wipe away the last vestiges of tears as Paulo came near.
“Time to go home, boss?” Paulo asked.
“Yeah.” Lenny cleared his throat. “Time to go home.”
Paulo headed up the bus steps.
Lenny turned to follow. He watched Paulo take the driver’s seat, heard him start up the engine.
Ellie stepped into the light at the top of the stairs. She had wrapped her head wound in a cloth bandage, but the bandage had not covered her earrings. They flashed. Not everyone is as lucky as that little girl. Not everyone has a Dolan looking out for them.
Lenny stepped aboard, felt the whoosh of the doors closing behind him.
Sometimes that has to be enough, Ellie finished.
And for at least that moment in Lenny Dolan’s life, it was.
###
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I began this journey in early winter 2009. Even then my darling wife told me I should pour all my focus into writing this story rather than chase other pursuits. This book and the Salt universe would not exist were it not for her constant nudging. Love ya, K.
For my Little Miss, let this book be an example you can accomplish anything if you knuckle down, never give up, and listen to your mother.
To Annetta Ribken, the editing goddess come down from Olympus, you made my ramblings cohesive and understandable, went beyond the call of duty to guide a fellow wildling, and kept me in stitches all the way. If I have any success with Salted, much and more of that is due you.
For Gene, Jon, Sarah, Samantha, and my kid sister, Whit, thank you for being my first readers. Thank you also to Tyler and my Blue Box Betas for their invaluable insight.
Kyle McBurnie, thank you for trusting me with the fantastic photograph that graces the cover of Salted. Greg Sidelnik, my old friend, your designs of that cover and related banners exceeded even my grandest visions. Thank you, brother.
Thanks also to Valerie Bellamy, the design wizard, who made me gasp when I saw her transformation of my work into an actual book. For Jennifer Wingard, whose love of the nautical world and attentiveness to detail I could not have done without.
For my parents, siblings, and the countless family and friends who have followed my crazy antics all this way, my thanks for your continued patience and support, or for faking it at least. I remain none the wiser if it’s all been just an act.
To the indie authors who blazed this pat
h ahead of me, my sincerest thanks for having the courage to write of your successes and, more importantly, missteps that we newcomers might benefit from your experiences.
And last but never least, to you, dear reader.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Salted is Aaron Galvin’s debut novel.
He first cut his chops writing stand-up comedy routines at age thirteen. His early works paid off years later when he co-wrote and executive produced the award-winning indie feature film, Wedding Bells & Shotgun Shells.
He is also an accomplished actor. Aaron has worked in everything from Hollywood blockbusters, (Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight, and Clint Eastwood’s Flags of Our Fathers), to starring in dozens of indie films.
Aaron is a native Hoosier, graduate of Ball State University, and a proud member of SCBWI. He currently lives in Southern California with his wife and daughter.
Now, here’s a sample chapter of the next book in
Aaron Galvin’s Salt Series
TAKEN WITH A GRAIN OF SALT
the sequel to SALTED
GARRETT
“Hello?” Garrett asked the lingering darkness. The scent of chlorine clouded his nose. He had a vague suspicion he knew this area well.
He reached around, felt the cool grooves of painted cinderblocks laid atop one another. He slid his hand up the wall face, but could not find its end. With naught else to guide him, Garrett walked forward. Each step put gingerly forward as if it might be his last.
An invisible, icy finger grazed down Garrett’s backside as he fumbled in the darkness. Its touch hastened him to keep moving.
There’s nothing there…nothing at all.
The finger would not be dismissed so easily. It former light touch now seemed to push him onward.
In minutes, his cinderblock guide changed into a smooth door. He glanced down. Saw a thin tracing of light where its base stopped an inch from the tiled floor.
A cold breeze flowed from beneath it.
Gaaaaarrrrrreeeettttt…the breeze whispered. Or was it the darkness behind him?
Garrett could not tell. He ripped the door open. Heat smacked him in the face. Garrett welcomed it, rather than the cold black he came from.
He stepped out the door, and recognized where he was.
The pool…I’m at school.
The still water seemed a crystal-clear mirror, dyed hazy green by the underwater lights embedded in the sides of the pool.
A bench creaked in the student bleachers above him.
Garrett jumped back. The locker room did not budge.
“H-hello?” his voice echoed throughout the empty room.
The darkness gave no reply.
Garrett tried the door again. Who would lock me out? Why?
He heard three padded steps behind him, then a splash.
Garrett whipped around.
The diving board bounced up and down so heavily it had left the rails. THONK! THonk! Thonk! Thonk! Thonk! It went, until finally settling.
Garrett saw expanding ringlets in the water. Something had disturbed its stillness.
Garrett could not help himself. He stepped forwards, stopping with a few feet to spare before reaching the pool’s edge.
Something swam at the bottom. Its tan half came to a sudden halt. The gray swayed side-to-side.
Garrett stepped closer. His bare toes gripped the edge of the pool lining. He felt a sharp prick in his foot. A trickle of blood dripped into the ledge. A few drops fell into the pool.
Garrett watched his blood stain the water. No…He knelt and tried to scoop his defilement out with cupped hands.
“Wouldn’t do that…” a raspy voice came from the pool.
Garrett glanced up.
A thick-bodied and bare-chested man bobbed in the middle of the pool. His unblinking, greenish-gold eyes leered at Garrett.
Garrett backed away from the edge. “Who are you?”
The man smirked. “Call me…Ishmael.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m the one who came to call,” Ishmael mocked Wilda’s southern voice. His face grew serious. “I’m here for you…to take you home.”
Ishmael seemed to effortlessly glide towards Garrett, yet he did not use his arms to paddle and remained upright.
Garrett backed away as the stranger neared.
“Why do you flee?” Ishmael opened his palm to Garrett as he reached the pool’s edge. “Don’t you want to come home with me, Garrett?”
“Wh-where’s home?”
“Oh, look at you! You’re shivering.” Ishmael said sympathetically. “You’ll feel warmer if you jump in.“
“No…” Garrett took another step back. “It will be colder in the water.”
“Will it? Come with me,” Ishmael insisted, motioning towards the middle of the pool. “I’ll show you such things as you couldn’t begin to dream about. You can bring anything you want. Take whatever you want.”
“I-I don’t know,” Garrett stammered, backing away until he reached the locker-room door. He turned from Ishmael and fumbled with the handle, praying for it to open.
“Bring anyone you want…” Ishmael said quietly.
Garrett heard a giggle. He turned back to the pool. “Sydney?”
Like Ishmael, she seemed to bob effortlessly in the water. Her grey eyes beckoned him closer. “Garrett, come with us,” she said. “Come with me…and we’ll play.”
Garrett took an unconscious step forward. “I want to, but…I-I don’t know…”
“He doesn’t want to come with me,” Sydney pouted to Ishmael. “I told you he didn’t want me.”
Sydney sobbed.
Ishmael wrapped his arm around her. “You shouldn’t deny a lady what she wants, Garrett,” he said coldly. “Don’t you desire her? Don’t you wish to be with her?”
“Y-yes, but—”
“Then come with us.”
“No,” said Garrett. “This isn’t real. It can’t be real. I’m dreaming. You’re just a dream.”
“Am I?” Ishmael asked. His lips parted in a cruel smile, revealing pointed teeth. “Let’s ask her…”
Ishmael brushed Sydney’s hair aside and kissed her neck. He worked his way down to her shoulder, his eyes open and focused on Garrett. Ishmael stopped at Sydney’s shoulder blade. He lifted his lips from her pale skin.
Then he bit her.
Sydney’s body went rigid. Her arms flailed as she clawed for Ishmael’s face, screaming.
“No!” Garrett howled. He ran towards the pool, yet halted at the edge.
Ishmael shook his head back and forth, ravaging Sydney’s shoulder. Her blood gushed, streaked the water crimson as she writhed and convulsed beneath his bite.
“Please stop!” Garrett begged. “I’ll come with you! Just don’t hurt her anymore!”
Ishmael released his hold.
Sydney splashed into the water face first.
“You will come with me Garrett Weaver,” said Ishmael. “One way or another.”
“Yes! I’ll come with you! I’ll go with you, only please let her go!”
“No. You had your chance. Now I want both of you…” Ishmael looked past Garrett, up into the stands.
Garrett turned.
Someone sat in the student bleachers; their feet propped on the navy guardrail, their face cloaked in darkness.
“Take him,” Ishmael commanded.
The figure leaned forward into the light. Poked his head through the rails.
“Kellen?” Garrett said. “What are you doing—”
“Take him!” Ishmael snarled.
Kellen stood robotically, his face blank. He turned away from Garrett, and walked towards the stairwell. Then he disappeared from view.
Garrett heard a faint slap, slap, slap followed by a swishing noise, like something dragging after each slap.
From around the corner, a seal with a black backside and a silvery, dark-spotted underbelly waddled onto the deck. The seal tilted its head quizzically at Garrett
as if studying him.
Garrett heard a splash. He spun around.
Ishmael had vanished.
Sydney’s lifeless body remained—floating face down in the middle of the pool. The water had become unclear and choppy, splashing over the edge. The tip of a triangular fin broke from the water near her face, its sharp edge pronounced high above the surface. The fin circled her.
“Sydney!” Garrett cried out.
Come in, come in, Ishmael’s voice echoed in Garrett’s mind. In where it’s nice and warm.
The fin bumped into Sydney, rolling her onto her back. Her eyes fluttered open. She coughed.
“Sydney!”
Sydney sat up in the water upon hearing her name called. “Wha—Garrett…what happened?” she asked.
The fin passed in front of her.
Sydney gasped. “Garrett! Help me!”
You will come with me, Garrett Weaver, Ishmael promised. One way or another.
The fin nudged Sydney, prompted her to scream again. “Help me!”
Garrett stared into the red water. His body shook. “I-I can’t…”
You can, said Ishmael. Come into the water.
Garrett would not. “Please,” he cried. “I can’t...I can’t…”
Very well. Take him, seadog.
A low growl came from behind Garrett. He turned and saw the snarling, open mouth of the seal before it lunged at him. The seal’s weight easily toppled Garrett into the pool.
Ishmael’s dark laughter invaded his mind.
He lied, Garrett thought as the cold encased him. His breath caught in his throat. He felt a nip at his feet as the seal hooked its teeth around Garrett’s belt loop and dragged him downwards. Down, down, down, Garrett went, his mind ticking off the marks numbering the pool depth.
Five feet...eight...ten...twelve…twelving!
Garrett looked upwards. He saw only darkness above and the greenish haze below.
The seal entered his halo of light. It watched him with sad black eyes.
I’m drowning. Garrett closed his eyes.
You’re not, said a grandfatherly voice.
Garrett opened his eyes. Saw no one. Not even the seal. Who said that?
Salted (9781310785696) Page 28