by Sam Herrera
“Sarah, what you doing?” she asked, hearing the water running.“Sarah, I have to tell y—” She appeared in the doorway just in time to get a jet of water right in the face from Kyle’s Super Soaker Two Thousand.
“Oh, my God!” she squealed.“You’re dead,” she sniggered. I ducked as she saw the tray of pistols I’d brought out, grabbed one and returned fire.
It was fair to say the entire house was soon dripping wet.
*
“Ahhh!” I suddenly ceased fire and doubled over, clutching my stomach.
“What’s wrong?”
“Ahhh, ahhh, ahhh. Call the hospital,” I told her, groaning as she helped me up and steering me towards the door. “Fuck! Shit, we can’t get out there,” I gasped, suddenly remembering the press, camped out in the hallway, besieging us.
“I got an idea about that,” she grinned.
I grinned as I looked out the window, seeing the last of the news vans and the chopper vanish around the corner, speeding after my car. She’d better watch the paintwork. My ambulance would be here soon.
*
“It’s okay, Ms. Hale, just breathe,” the medic told me, leaning over as I writhed in agony on the gurney.
“Ahhhh. You tell me it’s okay again,” I glared, taking off the gasmask, “I swear to Christ – Ahhhhh!” I screamed as another contraction wracked me, throwing my head back, my entire smock-front soaked in sweat. “Fuck!”
“Keep breathing, Ms. Hale.”
“I am fucking breathing for fuck’s sake.” We were now at the hospital, thank God. By that time I’d cursed Kyle, the midwives, the doctor, everyone, using language my mother would have disowned me for.
“Push. Push,” they encouraged.
“Ahhhh!”
“It’s okay. Keep breathing.”Fuck it! I punched him. I just jolted upright and let fly, full force, into the doctor’s jaw. Taken completely by surprise, he hit the floor.
“That. Hurt.”
“Good!” I yelled down at him.“Now you know what it’s fucking like!”
“Come on, Ms. Hale. I can see the head,” the midwife told me. With one last, mighty heave, I gave birth, collapsing back on the hospital bed as my child tumbled into their arms. “Thank fuck that’s over,” I sighed, my voice, thick and strained. I need water. The doctor gingerly probed his bruised jaw as they cut the umbilical. I took my son from them and crooned a load of nonsense over him as he bawled his lungs out. I grinned, breathing hard. He was beautiful.
“Shhh, Michael. Shhh.” He fell asleep. I smiled down at his bloody but serene little face as he sucked his thumb. He had blond hair, just like Kyle.
“Whoa,” I grinned.
“There’s someone to see you, Ms Hale.”
“Hi.”
“Hi,” I smiled, seeing her in the doorway.
“Congratulations. He’s beautiful.”
“Thanks,” I grinned. Kyle should be here.
“Need a lift back?”
*
My friend, my child and I drove back from the hospital with a big, broad grin on my face that felt like it would never come off. The paparazzi were nothing; I had my boy. I smiled as I watched my son sleep. I wished I knew what he was dreaming. I wished also that I could see his eyes, find out if they were Kyle’s emeralds or my violets.
“He is beautiful,” I whispered.
“Ah,” she sighed, looking through the window, at the house.“Your friends are here. Me being here…It might be…inappropriate.”
“Oh, fuck that,” I frowned. “You tried, like you said. You have a right to be here.”
“Okay.”
We rode the elevator in companionable silence and I let us in. I almost had a heart attack at the huge, collective “Surprise!” They all had been waiting in ambush in the dark: with smiles and balloons and all that: Mr. Plummer, Jack, Dave, their wives and a few of the regulars at the club. “How’d you all get in?” I grinned. They all looked over at my suddenly uncomfortable companion.
“I thought a party might be in order,” she shrugged. My smile vanished and my arms tightened around my son when I saw the last person I wanted to see among them. No one noticed. All the girls went gaga over Mike and my hand began to hurt from all the shaking it was having to do. I’m not shattered enough? I hadn’t been expecting them so there wasn’t really anything in the fridge to offer. I was glad they’d all brought their own stuff: beers, burgers, cake and pop. We brought all the raw goods into the kitchen where Jack started grilling and frying, while all the sweet stuff was spread out on our coffee table. “I got you a hot dog?”
“Thanks,” I smiled. She and I sat together on the couch, admiring Mike while I fed him from a bottle I’d already taken from the kitchen and filled via my pump.
“I can’t let him ruin what you have,” she stated, her eyes following him as he chatted with the others. He comes near Mike, I swear to God…
“But how?” I muttered grimly, my eyes never leaving my son’s face. You will not grow up without a father. I won’t allow it. When I looked back at her face, I warmed to her, seeing a determination equal to mine. She would do all she could for me and Kyle. “I recorded it.”
“Recorded what? What?” I blinked.
“He told me. He called me into his study and told me. He even,” she swallowed hard. “He even showed me his collection.”
“Oh, God.” I put a comforting hand over hers.
“I’ve got every word saved on my phone.” She gave me a set of headphones. I handed Mike over and took them, listening intently, my mouth and eyes agape as the whole truth came out. I flung my arms around her and crushed her to me, my heart swelling with love and gratitude.
“Thank you,” I whispered into her ear. Mike began to grumble as we’d crushed him between us.
“What happened to your hand?” she asked as we parted so I could take him back.
“I punched the doctor,” I told her.
“Really?” she asked, the corners of her mouth tugging upwards.“Why?”
“Pregnancy’s a bitch.”
“I miss all the good shit,” she grinned, chuckling.
“Am I interrupting?” We both looked up at him, standing behind us, a smirk all over his face.
“You can get the hell outta here,” I muttered grimly, standing and stepping back, holding Mike to me.
“You heard her,” she glared grimly, her face a frozen mask devoid of any feeling. With a snigger and a sneering “see ya ‘round,” he left. See ya…in court.
*
We, Dave and I, watched as she mingled with the guests, fast becoming the center of attention. Everyone wanted an autograph, it seemed.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?”
I scowled at him.
“I’m just saying she is.”
“You’ve no idea,” I beamed.
MARA
I woke up and stretched, yawning wide. As I was stepping out of the shower, I suddenly remembered I had wanted to hear from my cousin, hear his baby talk. Grinning excitedly, I called Sarah.
“Hi?”
“Mara.”
“Hey, Auntie, whassup?”
“He’s gone.”
“Who’s gone?” I frowned.
“Michael, he’s gone.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, feeling suddenly cold. I had never heard her sound like this: like a scared little kid.
“He’s gone. His crib is empty and the bolt on the door has been cut by pliers or something.” I swallowed hard and my eyes bugged. Oh, sssshit!
“What are the cops doing?”
“All they can,” she said.
“Who’d grab him though?”
“I don’t know. I’m guessing the same guy who stole the Winter. He probably followed me home in it and waited his chance.”
“Sarah…”
“Yeah?”
“I’m really sorry.”What else could I say?
“So. Am. I.”
SARAH
They searched the room and the rest of the house and took my statement over and over. I must have gone over it a thousand times already: I had waved goodbye to my guests. I had kissed him goodnight and fallen asleep. I’d then woken up the next morning, gone to the kitchen to get Mike’s bottle, came back upstairs and found the cot empty. She had given them all the evidence she had and a nationwide search was underway. But if he had the Winter…I walked slowly into the bedroom where I held up, and wept softly into, Mike’s pillow. I put my arms around it and gently stroked it, inhaling Mike’s scent and soaking it with my tears. My son. My son. I barely knew you. I barely had a night with you. What’s happening to you? Come back to me.
I sighed as I watched the crowd, praying he would be stupid enough to show up so I could beat it out of him, grab him by the throat and choke it from him. Where’s. My. Motherfucking. Son?! I couldn’t work. Plummer had been right about that. He’d called, telling me kindly that I didn’t have to come in if I didn’t want. But I had thought I’d needed to get away for a while; one more miserable, tearful, silent-as-the-grave, moment in that big, empty house and I would have gone mad. I felt utterly lost. I had no energy, no nothing. It was like I was on autopilot. I wished I had taken Plummer’s offer now.
“You okay?” Dave asked.
“No,” I scoffed.
I suddenly had to get away from this horrible feeling of helpless fury and fear, from everything. I walked out with no idea where I was going.
*
Somehow I ended up in front of St John’s Church. I walked down the stone alleyway between the pews, my gaze fixed on the crucifix behind the decorated, cloth-covered altar and the daisy-shaped, stained-glass windows high above it. I sat on the foremost pew and did something I hadn’t done since I was a kid: I prayed.
“Dear God, I know you don’t owe me anything, that we don’t even know each other and that I don’t deserve anything. But if you really are up there, help my son. I will do anything if you bring him back to me.”
“Hi.”
“God!” I started. “Hi,” I snapped as she sat beside me.
“Praying, huh?”
“Desperate, I guess.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I want my son back.”
“There’s nothing I can do,” she shrugged. “He enjoys seeing you in pain.”
“I know,” I growled.
“Guess what, though.”
“What?” I asked, frowning at her grin.
KYLE
I heard the door unlock and I was ready. I didn’t care. I really didn’t. They could do what they liked to me. I walked between the two guards, my hands empty of all possessions. I didn’t want or need anything. I looked out of the window of the prison van, somewhat puzzled by the direction we were taking: they were driving me up to the main door of the police station. What had happened to court? I was marched up to the front desk and told to sign for the pile of clothes laid on it. They’re mine, I realized, looking at them more closely. What the hell was going on?
*
I walked out of the doorway in a daze. I was convinced this was all some huge practical joke and kept shooting suspicious glances over my shoulder, expecting them to jump out and grab me, laughing that I’d actually fallen for it, but it didn’t happen. I took two hesitant steps down to the pavement, squinting in the bright sun and inhaling the fresh air as I watched the traffic go by same as it always did, up and down the roads. The city of New York was spread out before me, as real as it could be.
“Hello, Kyle.” I whipped my head around to see my girlfriend standing in the doorway. I sucked in a breath. The sunlight shone on her blonde hair and made her white blouse glow.
“Nice shirt,” I said, stuck for anything else.
“Nice beard,” she smirked. I felt my rough chin ruefully.
“I’ll shave as soon as I can.” She nodded, her eyes searching my face. I was drawn to those eyes. Helpless. Like a moth to a flame. Was this a dream? No. I flung my arms around her and she clung to me as we came together in a fiery kiss, fueled by days of longing. The ice around my heart shattered instantly and the traumatized trance I’d been living in for weeks now was burned away in the fire of her love.
“Hey, honey,” I grinned.
“Hey, honey,” she beamed back. I became aware, then, that something was wrong. Her stomach was utterly flat with not even a vestige of pregnancy. I pulled back to look down. “What?”
“Hi.”We both looked up as a young woman appeared beside us. Holy shit, someone’s grown up. It felt odd saying her name after so long.
“I guess we need to talk, huh?”
*
We sat in the car and they poured out their story. “My God, ”I breathed. I was stunned. Speechless.
“I’m sorry, honey. I know he was your friend.” Sarah stroked my hair and my cheek sorrowfully.
“I’m glad you’re out anyway, Mr. Thayer.”
“Kyle,” I told her. “Thanks to you,” I smiled at the kid I had once seen kick ass, her first basketball game, now grown into a good woman. “He still has our son, doesn’t he?” Sarah looked down. Her only answer.
*
My return was greeted with whoops and cheering. I smiled as all my real friends gathered around me. Sarah and I shook hands until ours were ready to drop off while she watched the girl also shake hands and take embraces, the hero of the hour, her eyes filling with what could only be love. I loved her too. If it weren’t for her I would still be in jail.
“How long’s this goddamn party been going on?” I scowled impatiently, pulling Sarah to me.
“A couple of hours. Why?”
“Because I wanna fuck your brains out until you start screaming for me to stop,” I whispered into her ear, my brows raised and my mouth tugging upwards at the corners.
“Oooohhh,” she smirked. I waited, tense with anticipation, while the party drew to a close. At one point, while we were all seated around the table cutting the welcome home cake, she started carefully stroking me under the table. To my credit, I kept up the pretense of normality very well despite being like steel through my deck shorts. We ate our cake and party food and said our goodbyes, the both of us bursting. Get. Out, all of ya! She was the last to leave.
“Goodbye, Kyle. Goodnight Sarah.” she smiled.
“Goodbye. Now get out. I’m grateful and all, but get out.”
She beamed as her eyes flickered between the two of us. Chuckling and nodding, she walked away.
SARAH
“Kyle,” I gasped.
“Yeah.”
“I’m not complaining or anything.”
“Hmm?”
“But, what has gotten into you?” I asked, wide-eyed. The man had been as good as his word. He’d had to answer the door at least twice as the cops, with some very anxious neighbors behind them, had come to our door, thinking someone was being murdered or something. After getting rid of them, he’d just pounced on me all over again. I propped myself up on one elbow, looking down at my sated and truly happy boyfriend.
“You seem a lot better,” I told him as I doodled circles on his chest with one finger. It was true. All trace of the scarred, burdened man who’d come home from the police station was gone now. The burden had been lifted thanks to our friendly neighborhood movie star.“I am different.” We kissed, long and deep, and I passed out in his arms, thinking what a wonderful thing love was.
“I wish—” I began hesitantly.
“I know,” he nodded. My mobile suddenly started ringing. I sat up to answer it.
“Hey, Sarah.”
“Hey.”
“Right now, I’m looking through his desk, rea
ding his diary.”
“Uh, huh?”
“I found something. It’s about him finding this ship thing of yours. Maybe…” she said hesitantly.
“What?”
“Maybe if you found him…?”
“How? We don’t know where he’s gone.”
“I do.”
KYLE
My eyes were glued to the shimmering in the air as it slowly cruised by the top floor of the parking garage. I ducked from car to car, peering out from behind the last one as it came to a stop. I smiled. It was exactly like she’d said. Directly in front of us, across the road, was the police station. He was planning to blow it up. The ultimate act of revenge. But there was one thing he didn’t know about: the Winter’s remote. I gently pressed the downwards-facing arrow and the ramp’s button. I watched as it suddenly pulled back, the door in mid-air opening. I grinned as I imagined the sudden surprise and alarm the man of the moment must be feeling. I leapt up the ramp, through the doorway, crouched low and crept forward as I saw him seated in the pilot’s chair.
“What the fuck was that?” he muttered.
“Helllooo.” I dived for him as he spun around and grabbed him in a headlock, pinning his neck to the headrest. Taken completely by surprise, he lashed out with one foot, catching the joystick and sending the Winter into a dive. I saw stars as he kicked away from the panel, elbowed me hard in the stomach breaking my stranglehold, and then slammed the barrel of a gun into my forehead, sending me to my knees. He tried to rise, aiming the gun at me, but I got up, twisted it out of his hands and hit him in the mouth with the barrel, sending him straight back down. Reaching past him, I grabbed the joystick and tried to turn it to the side, away from the building. I went too far and slammed the nose into the side of a building a few blocks away, sending us spinning out of the city, into the harbor. I winced as I saw rubble, glass and brick fall from the hole I’d carved to the pavement below. God, I hope no one’s down there. I had no time to worry about that. He grabbed me by a fistful of hair, yanked my head back and slammed it into the cockpit’s metal side, following up with a kick to my groin once I’d gone down. I forced myself to shake it off as I saw two of him crouch over me, reaching for two guns on the floor next to me. I kicked it away just in time, sending it flying into a corner, then leapt up and head-butted him, the impact to my already bruised face ensuring I came off worse. Shit, I’m in trouble. Shake it off, soldier. I jumped up, heaved him bodily off his feet and it was his turn to hit the deck. I swung the ship around, managing to get back to New York before – turning –I saw him heading for the armory. We narrowly missed another skyscraper because I’d had to jump up and stop him taking down another, heavier sidearm. We rolled over and over, fighting over it, and he began raining blows on my face. At one point he bit a piece of my ear off. Roaring in pain, I flung him off me. He jumped up and, running to the cockpit, steered us back out to sea. The next hour was a world tour completed in a whirlwind of kicks, blows, spinning skies, splattering vomit, flashing oceans and unfortunate landmarks. I wondered, as he was pinning my face to the control panel with one hand, wrestling with me for the gun with the other, what the tourists would make of this: sparks flying off the Eiffel Tower and the middle of the structure slowly beginning to bend as though being pulled backwards by an invisible hand. We span around and around, while upside down, over Sydney Opera House, tearing chunks out of the white paint in the process. I managed to grab the joystick and twist it, moments before taking another elbow to the face. Then we were spinning over and over above the golden, sandy soil of an Egyptian desert, knocking yellow bricks off one of the Pyramids and scaring the living shit out of some poor camels, before spinning away, the ship driven by its own momentum. I managed to kick him full in the chest before I got pushed away down the length of the ship. We were now completely vertical and had to grab things to keep ourselves from falling to the bottom. He looked up into the stone eye of the Statue of Liberty that we had come to a stop beside. Any higher and we would have crashed into the spiked crown. He was holding onto the pilot’s chair. I was clinging to the door of an open closet. I climbed up, from wall to wall, using every hand and foothold I could get to reach him. I yelled in pain as his heavy walking boot slammed down on my clenched hand, over and over, as I made it to just below him.