by Dave Buschi
“Mmm, thought I was out. I’m surprised it worked.”
She said it so matter-of-factly; like it wasn’t the first time she’d had to use the spray. James didn’t dwell on her response. He felt a surge of empathy that almost overwhelmed him—this poor girl had almost been raped, and she was acting like it was a common day occurrence.
“Would you mind if I borrowed your phone?” he said, needing to change the subject.
“I’m out of minutes.”
“I’ve got some money. I’ll pay for the overage. It’ll just be a short call. I won’t be more than two minutes.”
“You don’t understand,” she said. “It don’t work. I used up my minutes. I ain’t got Verizon, I’ve got NuCall. Pay as you go. Don’t sweat it.”
Her last words might have been an ad tagline, not that James had ever heard of New Call before.
“You out too?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your phone? You out of minutes?”
“No, it’s my battery. It’s dead.” James fidgeted. “Listen, I need to know if you’re going to be okay? Because I don’t think I am.”
She laughed and he hadn’t been trying to be funny. She smirked. “You’re a fish out of water? Ain’t ya?”
James shook his head. “I’m just not used to this. This day has been a little strange.”
“Tell me. Everybody’s gone plumb crazy. Those two that tried to jump me? I don’t know what they were thinking. Acting like it was Christmas or something.”
James looked down. “Do you have a family? Someplace you can go?”
“Yeah.” Her answer was abrupt and James was afraid he’d insulted her. She softened her tone. “I got a family. I live with my grandma and my kid, ‘bout seven blocks from here.” She stood up. “You okay?”
“Sure.” James looked at her. It was amazing. She was concerned for his welfare. He stood up. “I didn’t get your name.”
“Taneesha Burke.”
“Well Taneesha, thank you for saving me.”
Her forehead bunched.
He explained. “If you hadn’t had that spray, I might be in a lot worse shape.”
Her face, which was really quite pretty, broke into a smile. James smiled back. “Well, I’m going to get going. Do you think you can point me in the direction of the nearest gas station?”
One of her eyebrows arched. “Where you think you at, James?” She seemed to think for a second. “Car around here?”
James nodded.
“Well, c’mon.”
She hopped down the steps and James had to hustle to keep up.
ON top was barbed wired. Beyond, was a junkyard. Taneesha had a strip of garden hose in her hand, which she’d taken from the side of an abandoned house.
“Watch for the dog,” she said.
“Dog?”
She pulled at the fence and James could see it had an opening where some of the links had been cut. “You first,” she said.
“Did you say dog?” James’s feet were rooted. A terrible fear of dismemberment by Doberman came over him.
“We’re fine,” Taneesha said. “C’mon, slide in.”
“You sure this is the way to a gas station?” James said. “Is this a shortcut?”
She laughed. “You’re funny. C’mon.”
James surveyed the area past the fence, looking for any type of movement. Not seeing any, he squeezed through the opening. He held it for her as she squeezed through behind him. They walked past some rusty relics that were once cars.
“Not these,” Taneesha said.
She walked spry of step, as James scrambled to keep up. His eyes darted everywhere. Behind every car he expected some mangy junkyard dog to come barreling out. The only thing that kept him from running back towards the fence was Taneesha’s upbeat demeanor.
She seemed to have almost completely recovered from what had happened with the men. James admired her resilience and verve. It was a good sign, he hoped.
As she stepped over some debris, James noticed that Taneesha’s legs were very graceful and toned. It wasn’t like him to notice such things. But Taneesha was hard not to notice. He suddenly realized she was a very pretty young girl.
He felt guilty having that thought—particularly considering the ordeal she’d just gone through—and almost tripped. He needed to pay attention to where he was walking. There were all sorts of debris on the ground. Taneesha bent down and picked up an old plastic bottle. She tossed it aside. A moment later she spied a large plastic container and picked it up.
James kept looking for the dog. He figured he’d hear it first.
Taneesha yelped gleefully.
“These weren’t here last time. C’mon.” She picked her way over some old railroad ties.
It didn’t seem to James they were getting anywhere. He looked for a fence to indicate the other side of the junkyard, but all he saw was an endless field. “Where are we going?”
“This’ll do,” Taneesha said. “I hate this part. You do it.” She handed him the hose she’d cut. “Don’t get it on us,” Taneesha said, as she unscrewed the car’s gas cap.
“We’re going to siphon gas?”
“Yep.” Taneesha handed him the plastic cube container. The label on it said ‘fresh spring water’. “How do I do this?” James said, looking at the hose.
“Wipe it first,” Taneesha said, as she put the other end in the gas tank. “To get it going, give it a good pull. But be careful. You gotta move quick. Jam that end in the jug and try not to get it on us.” She stepped back.
James wiped off the end of the hose; gave it a quick yank and jammed it in the mouth of the water container.
Taneesha laughed. “You big dummy. Give it to me.” She grabbed it and gave the hose another wipe. She put her mouth to it, gave it a hard suck and jammed the hose into the container as gas started to spill out.
James watched in wonderment. He knew what he was seeing was caused by differences in pressure and gravity. Still, seeing the gas come out made him feel like a kid in sixth grade science lab. “Cool.”
Taneesha filled up the container and crimped the hose. “Take this.” She handed him the container. “It’s heavy.”
James took it. Taneesha extracted the hose. She removed the other end and closed the gas cap. She looked around, then walked over and picked up what appeared to be the remnants of some shirt. She tore off a strip and handed it to James. “That’s to plug it up.” Her forehead pinched. “Uh oh.”
“What?”
She bit her lip and looked at him apologetically. “I hear the dog.”
9
THE man took a drag on his unfiltered cigarette as he looked out the window. The nubs of his fingers were stained yellowish black.
“Look at this,” Peter said, as he flicked his ashes out. “You only find this where they live.”
Smoke fumed from his nostrils. “See that garbage. What is that, a kitchen sink? It’s like one big garbage can. These people… I bet if you put ‘em in a cage without any toilet and left them for days, unlike civilized sorts who’d use the corner, they’d just shit on the floor and step in it.” He took another drag. “Let me see that picture again.”
His partner, Denis, handed him a print. It was a digital photograph from the torso up. Peter had read the jacket. Like usual, there wasn’t much, just a few details: age and other particulars. The one difference in this case was there was a RFID tag on the guy. That was a first.
Their Muscovite friends usually kept it simple. They didn’t bother using such fancy methods. It made Peter curious. The marker was in the car, but still, he wondered if this was a straight deal, or something that had been passed around.
Not that it mattered. A deal was a deal and their friends didn’t pay them to ask questions. They were just supposed to get the job done, and put a rush on it.
They didn’t get many of those. Cost extra.
Peter handed the picture back. Denis had his laptop open. The car they were tracking hadn�
��t moved. Peter wondered why a white guy would be down in this neighborhood. Maybe he was a dealer. If he was, he’d obviously ticked off the wrong people.
Peter took another drag and tossed his cigarette out the window. “This ain’t normal.” They’d passed three public disturbances and a building that was burning. Even for this area that was unusual. “How close are we?”
Denis held up a finger, which meant they were close. Three blocks later Peter saw it. It was a late model Jap car that was parked along the curb.
“That it?”
Denis nodded.
“It’s attracted roaches.” Peter parked two car lengths behind and lit another cigarette. “Tuck that under the seat.”
They both opened their doors and walked towards the car. Three teens in long white sleeveless tees that covered their bare asses stopped what they were doing and looked at them.
“What’s up?” Peter said.
The three didn’t run, which told Peter either these kids were stupid, or they had good instincts and knew Denis and he weren’t cops. Peter’s money was on them being stupid.
“You guys having car problems?”
The three stole glances at each other.
“Don’t stop on my behalf,” Peter said. “We’ll just be here a minute.” He nodded at Denis who held up the photograph.
“Seen him?” Peter said.
None of them responded.
“You three look like you bit into prunes. C’mon think. It can’t be that hard. Might do you some good. To think.”
The teen closest to Peter was the first to make a move. He went to pull the gun that Peter knew was under his shirt.
“Bad decision,” Peter said. He looked at his partner whose gun was already drawn. “See my partner? Gives him an excuse. He’s not open-minded like myself. So let’s try this again. Where’s the guy owns this car?”
“Fuck you, bitch,” said the teen.
“You’re not listening,” said Peter. “Denis, make him listen.”
Denis shot him in the leg. The kid went down screaming. Peter looked at the other two whose mouths had dropped open. “How ‘bout you two?”
“I don’t know nothin’,” said one of them, his voice high and scared. The other shook his head vigorously.
Peter sighed. And for a moment he thought this was going to be easy.
These three were obviously worthless. He looked around. There was no one else in sight. Just the five of them now by this car.
He looked at Denis and nodded.
“Clean it up.”
10
AFTER they left the junkyard they had a laugh. The dog that showed up had been old and toothless with a teddy bear demeanor. Taneesha had rubbed the dog’s ears.
James walked with Taneesha until it came time for her to turn off. He offered to walk her home, but she insisted she was fine.
James hesitated. He wanted to help her somehow, but didn’t want to insult her. She seemed to read his mind. “I’m good.”
He nodded. “I know. I enjoyed meeting you, Taneesha.”
She smiled and said goodbye. As he walked to his car, he felt hopeful about her situation, as well as his own as crazy as that seemed. The plastic container held two gallons of gas. That should be enough to get him home. Once home he could take care of the bank stuff.
That optimism changed when he saw the three youths. As he debated what to do, a black sedan had driven up. Two men had gotten out. The men each had close-cropped hair and were wearing sports coats despite it being warm. The tall one had a deep red tan. The squatty one had the neck of a man that lifted weights.
James thought for sure they were undercover police officers. He’d just about stepped from his cover when something inside him told him to wait.
He wasn’t close enough to hear what was being said. The squatty one held something out that looked like a piece of paper. A few words were exchanged and then he shot one of the youths.
Jesus!
James tucked from sight. There were more gunshots. A few minutes later, he surveyed the aftermath. The youths were on the pavement. As for the two men and their car, they were gone.
James came to terms with what had just happened. He’d witnessed three murders. Half in a state of shock, he approached his car.
Fighting the heebie-jeebies and avoiding the pools of blood, he walked past the bodies. They were definitely dead. His car still had its wheels, minus the hubcaps. There was a jack near the back wheel, which hadn’t been set. With his foot, he nudged it away. It didn’t look to be his.
His car door was open. He set down his satchel, gas and went to his car and flipped open the trunk. Inside his trunk was a plastic bag. The bag held two pints of oil, a funnel, and an almost empty roll of paper towels. His car was always burning too much oil and he kept the pints for emergencies. Using the funnel, he poured the gas from the container into his tank.
That done, he set the container down, then thought better of it and picked it back up along with the rag that had been its stopper. The container would have his fingerprints on it. With this murder scene, he didn’t want to leave any trace that he’d been here. He was going to report what had happened, of course. He just hadn’t figured out how he was going to do so. A part of him was afraid the cops would think him a suspect. It seemed crazy, but why wouldn’t they? It was his car and the dead boys had been breaking into it. It was just his word that two random men had done the shooting.
James looked around. No one else had witnessed what he’d seen. He gathered up his hubcaps that were on the ground and put them in his trunk, along with the empty container and rag.
He wiped his hands with some paper towels, picked up his satchel and looked to see if there was anything else lying around. Not seeing anything, he closed his trunk. A minute later, he looked in the rearview mirror, put his turn signal on and pulled out into the street.
11
“…OF Texas has declared a state of martial law. This is live footage we’re seeing. Sandra is on the scene. Sandra can you hear us? Yes, yes! I’m here outside a Safeway in upscale Brookwood. These people have been going in and out for the last half hour.”
Blam, Blam!!!
“Oh my God, Oh my God…those were gunshots. Sandra, can you hear us? Sandra? Pull the cameras, pull the cameras! She fell down, was she shot? I didn’t see… I don’t think so. We’ve lost the feed. That was horrible. Is she okay? Get her back! Can you get her back?”
Sue, forty-two years old with comely features and dirty blonde hair streaked with a few invisible grays, called the girls in. She didn’t want them outside, not even in the backyard, not with what she was seeing on TV.
“Girls, go play in your rooms.”
Katie and Hannah started to head upstairs when they stopped in their tracks.
“Why does that man on TV have a gun, Mommy?”
Sue clicked the TV off. “It’s make-believe, honey.”
“Mommy.” Her youngest daughter, Hannah, gave her a scolding look. “You know it’s not good to tell fibs. That was the News. That’s not pretend; that’s really happening. Why did that man have a gun?”
Looking at her daughter, Sue winced and felt a pang of tenderness at the same time. The fact her daughter knew what a gun was wasn’t good—she could thank the neighbor’s kid for that—the real amazement was it wasn’t that terribly long ago that Hannah was speaking single monosyllabic words. Now here she was, not yet four years old, and she was speaking like a little adult.
“You’re right honey. Mommy should never tell fibs. That man had a gun to protect his store.”
“Why does he want to protect his store?” Hannah’s pretty little mouth pinched serious.
“Because, you know when we go to the store and have to pay for things at the register?”
Hannah nodded. “Uh huh.”
“Well, that man had a gun because there were people who weren’t going to pay and he was just trying to make sure they did.”
“But isn’t a gun bad?”
“It is, most of the time.”
“So he’s a bad man?”
“Not exactly,” Sue said. She knew these questions could go on forever. She knelt down and gave her a hug. “Have I told you today how much I love you?”
“Mommy.”
“Yes.”
“What have I said about hugs?”
Sue let go of her daughter. “Sorry.”
Hannah scampered off to join her big sister who was already upstairs. Sue smiled and bit her lip. Her daughters were so different from each other. Her oldest, Katie, loved hugs when she was the same age. Hannah, on the other hand, was ultra-independent and didn’t go for the touchy feely stuff. She reminded Sue of herself when she was younger, while Katie was more like James.
Katie liked structure and things to be a certain way. Katie’s side of the room was all in order, with dolls lined up and pillows perfectly placed. Hannah’s side, in contrast, was ordered chaos; she loved to let it spill into Katie’s space, which of course led to yelps of “MOM”.
Sue lingered at the foot of the steps, waiting for the inevitable scream. When it didn’t come, she sighed and went into the kitchen. She couldn’t shake it, she felt emotional and stressed. All morning she’d been worried about James. He’d called twice, but she hadn’t been able to hear anything he’d said. He should be home; it had been long enough; traffic couldn’t be that bad. Most businesses were shut down with what was going on.
When Allyson’s mom called to cancel the birthday party they were supposed to attend, Sue had turned on the news. James had also called around that time. His voice, the little she heard of it, had sounded strained. She’d tried to call him back, but only got his voicemail.
When James’s second call came and was immediately disconnected she couldn’t help but thinking the worst. One of her most deep-rooted fears was that their daughters would grow up and not know their daddy. Sue didn’t want them to relive her own childhood. Her own father had been a stranger to her. Even now that he was retired and lived less than an hour away, they didn’t see each other.