Pawn's Gambit

by Darin Kennedy

  “The truth?”

  “It’ll set you free, isn’t that what they say?” A half smile parted Donald’s lips as he let Steven squirm. “Come on, son. Spill it. You have that look like when you skinned up the car back in tenth grade. You in trouble or something?”

  “You could say that.” Steven studied the ripple in the parquet floor.

  “Is it money? Do you need some money?”

  “No, it’s nothing like that. It’s, well… there are these people, Dad.” Steven caught his father’s skeptical eye. “God, this is going to sound paranoid.” He took a breath. “The last few days, they’ve been after me. No matter where I go, they get there first. These people are serious trouble.” His eyes slid closed. “I wanted to make sure they hadn’t come after you.”

  “You’re right, Steven.” His dad drank the last swig of his Dr. Pepper and rested the empty bottle on the table between them. “That does sound paranoid.”

  Donald rose from the table and plopped down in the oversized recliner in the corner and flipped on the tube. There, he sat in silence as the television blared with one of those daytime court shows that made Steven want to bang his head against a wall. Compared to the man who once spent every possible second in the sun and air with a shovel, paddle, or walking stick in his hand, the Don Bauer before him was a shadow, a sad recluse who spent most of his hours in a darkened living room bathed in the cathode rays of the vintage Panasonic set.

  “Turn that crap off.” Steven followed him into the next room. “We’re talking here.”

  His dad hit the power button on the remote and placed it back on the scarred end table. Not taking his eyes off the darkened screen, Donald sat in silence for a few moments before answering his son in a voice that was a bit too quiet.

  “You want to talk, huh?” He shifted in his seat, his back cracking like a frozen lake on the first day of spring. “I’m not sure what you want me to say. Not a peep out of you for two years, and now you show up on my doorstep out of the blue talking out of your head about people who are out to get you. Way I see it, either you’ve gotten yourself into something way over your head, or that overactive imagination of yours has finally gotten the better of you.”

  “Look, I know I’ve been out of touch.” The half laugh, half harrumph from his father sent a pang of guilt through Steven’s gut. “All right, way out of touch, but that’s beside the point. These people are real.” Steven pounded the wall. “Dangerously real.”

  Baffled, Donald stared off into space, not saying a word.

  “You know,” Steven continued, “if this is how it’s always going to be when I come home, then I’m glad I moved away. It’s not like the last few years have been easy for me either. I miss Mom just as much as—”

  “Stop. Don’t you dare come here and tell me about how hard the last couple of years have been. And as far as missing your mother goes, I wrote the book, Steven. I wrote the damn book.” Donald launched himself from his oversized recliner and walked out onto the front porch without another word.

  Steven set his jaw and sighed as the front door slammed closed in his face. “Wow,” he mumbled under his breath, “this is going well.”

  Out on the porch, his white-knuckled hands clutching the porch rail, Don Bauer stared westward, boldly defying the glaring sun of late afternoon. “ You know, son. You’ve been running since you could stand. Fastest thing on two legs. It used to make your mom and me so proud.” His father turned and looked at him, his sad eyes somewhere between regret and disappointment. “I guess I just never thought you’d run out on me.”

  “Don’t you dare. That crap goes both ways and you know it.” Heat rose in Steven’s cheeks. “I barely heard from you my whole last year at Georgetown. Hell, you didn’t even make Katherine’s funeral. I know it’s been rough since Mom died, but for God’s sake, our wedding date was less than a month away. Were you going to skip that too?”

  As his father’s anger deflated, Steven fought the urge to hit him with one last dig.

  He lost.

  “Don’t think for a minute I’m the only runner in this family.”

  Donald hung his head, and Steven wished the words back into his mouth. The sun continued its slow march across the sky as father and son stood in silence, neither ready to concede the point or admit the other was right.

  Eventually, Steven made the first move, clasping his father’s shoulder and pulling him back inside. “Come on, Dad. You’ve got to be starving. Let’s go put together some dinner.”

  The smell of breaded pork chops soon filled the kitchen, and the growing pang in Steven’s side reminded him a good ten hours had passed since he and Audrey choked down stale biscuits and coffee from the hospital snack bar. A drop of hot grease popped up from the frying pan and singed his wrist. He jerked his arm under the faucet and ran cool water over the burn.

  His father took the pan of sizzling pork off the burner and speared a piece for his plate, tapping his foot as he waited for the rest of the meal to finish. After a few impatient seconds, he put his plate down on the counter and started to empty the dishwasher, a move Steven knew well.

  “Veggies are almost done,” Steven said. “A couple more minutes and we can eat.”

  His father chuckled. “You cook like your mom. She was a miracle worker. Always fixed it to where everything got done at the same time. Like magic.” Donald glanced over at a picture of the three of them on the wall by the door. “Never got the hang of it myself.”

  Steven smiled. “I learned from the best.”

  “Remember how she finally got you to stop spitting out your lima beans?”

  “I don’t think adding bacon and ketchup to the mix is exactly playing fair. In fact, if I remember right, the vegetarians of the world lodged a formal complaint on that one.”

  “I miss her, Steven.” The laughter left his voice, leaving only weariness. “Things have never been the same around here. Not even close.”

  “I know, Dad.” Other than this brief island of conversation, the meal was an ocean of half-hearted questions and noncommittal answers. Beaming in the window that looked out onto the front yard, the sun was getting low in the sky.

  “Do you think you could give me a ride back into town?” he asked. “I’m meeting some associates for coffee. I could call another cab, but—”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem. I didn’t have anywhere to be tonight. Hell, this week. Just do me a favor. Don’t stay gone so long this time.” Donald patted Steven’s knee. “It was good seeing you again.”

  “Same here, Dad.” Steven pulled in a breath. “Same here.”

  Donald Bauer turned off the highway onto the busy two-and-a-half-mile stretch of road that led to his subdivision. Coward of the County blared from the truck’s stereo speakers, the local country station in the middle of a mini-marathon of Kenny Rogers tunes. He laughed a bit as he sang along with The Gambler, but as Kenny’s indictment of his life extended into Through the Years, his thoughts drifted into dangerous territory. He flipped the radio off.

  The drive to Roanoke had been for the most part quiet. Steven had insisted he take a few days off and get out of town, and though Donald wasn’t sure he bought Steven’s convoluted story about money and mobsters, he agreed to pack up and visit his sister in Miami.

  After that, Steven clammed up, gone to that place he retreated to when something was on his mind. The quiet didn’t bother Donald. Long periods of silence had become the rule in his life, not the exception. The last thing he expected when he got out of bed that morning was a visit from his prodigal son. Still, despite all the conspiracy nonsense Steven had been spouting, Donald had enjoyed their brief time together more than he would ever admit, even to himself.

  As Donald rounded the last curve before his street, his brain came off autopilot in an instant, his foot slamming the brakes well before his mind could completely register what he was seeing. Halfway off the road sat a black BMW Roadster with its hood in the air and its back bumper still sporting dealer
tags. A silvery plume poured from under the open hood. Donald inched his truck around the stranded vehicle’s left rear quarter panel and noted a female silhouette amidst the wafting steam.

  “Excuse me,” Donald asked through the passenger side window. “Can I help you?”

  The woman extricated herself from the overheating engine and brushed a lock of dark hair from her face. Donald’s first thought was the woman must be a model or a movie star.

  Not too many goddesses with fifty thousand dollar cars in this neck of the woods.

  “Thanks.” She smiled, and for a moment Donald Bauer felt twenty-five again. “Sorry to bother you. I was driving to a friend’s when all of a sudden steam started pouring out from under the hood.” She pursed her lips into a playful pout. “So much for top of the line engineering.”

  “Probably the radiator.” Donald slid the Blazer into park. “You sure you’re all right?”

  “Oh, I’m fine. Didn’t get the car quite as far off the road as I would’ve liked before she stopped rolling, though. Can you give me a push?”

  “Sure.” Donald pulled his Blazer off the road and helped the woman guide the sleek black vehicle onto the shoulder.

  “Thanks for your help.” The woman stepped back out of her car. “Not to be even more of a bother, but do you happen to have a cell phone on you so I can call Triple A? I’m all paid up on my dues and want to get my money’s worth.”

  “Sorry, don’t own one. Against my religion and all that. I do live right around the corner, though. You’re welcome to use my phone.”

  “Are you sure?” Her beaming smile was like something out of an old black-and-white movie. “I don’t want to trouble you any more than I—”

  “It’s no trouble. No trouble at all.” Donald opened the passenger door to his Blazer and made a polite bow. “You can lock up your car and hop in the truck with me. I’m literally right around the corner. Hopefully, we can get you taken care of before it gets too dark.”

  “Sounds great,” she said. “Give me a minute to close up shop here and we can go.”

  Donald hopped back into his reliable old Chevy and patted the dash. “Two hundred and eleven thousand miles and you’ve never let me down. Wash and wax for you this weekend.”

  A moment later, the woman got in and closed the door. “Thanks for all your help. Good to know chivalry still exists in the world.”

  “Not a problem,” Donald said as he pulled back onto the road. “So, I guess we didn’t do too well with introductions. I’m Don.”

  “Hi, Don.” Her face broke into another megawatt smile. “I’m Magdalene.”

  “Magdalene,” Donald said. “That’s pretty.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So, Miss Magdalene. Are you married? Kids?”

  “Oh no, none of that. Still looking for the right guy, I guess.” The woman shot Donald a playful wink. “Why do you ask?”

  Donald’s cheeks grew warm. “Oh, nothing like that. I’m well past my expiration date. Actually, I was thinking about my son. He dropped by today for a surprise visit. I just took him back into town for the night. He’s about your age, I’m betting you’d be right up his alley.”

  Magdalene laughed. “Too bad I missed him. Would’ve been nice to meet the son of a true gentleman like yourself.”

  Donald pulled the truck onto his gravel driveway and dropped the gearshift into park. “His name’s Steven and I believe he’s in town for the next day or so. Who knows? Maybe you two will run into each other.”

  “Maybe we will, Don.” Magdalene smiled. “Maybe we will.”

  27

  Square

  One by one, the streetlights along Roanoke’s Market Square flickered to life as the dimming light of early evening continued its slow fade into night. For hours, the outdoor market had been slow but steady, peaking at lunch before entering its typical afternoon decrescendo. The aroma of thousands of flowers still hung in the air, a heady scent that mingled with the smell of coffee from the corner café.

  Though all but the most tenacious of vendors had long since headed for home, a diverse crowd filled the open space at the heart of downtown, the best dressed among them trickling two by two into the double glass doors of the Mill Mountain Theatre for a production of Godspell.

  Along the opposite corner, a smattering of teens congregated outside the open doors of The Daily Grind. Backlit by the light streaming from the coffee shop’s front window, a wooden bench held two figures deep in conversation. Their long white cloaks draped along the uneven brick sidewalk, neither of them appeared to be uncomfortable in the sweltering evening heat.

  Even stranger, of the multitude of people walking along the busy street, only one gave them more than a passing glance. A young girl with chocolate skin and her hair done up in tight braids waved to the man on the right and blew him a kiss. The man waved back, smiling up at the child’s mother who returned nothing but a bland expression and a curt nod as she and her daughter hurried past and into the coffee shop’s open doors.

  “Huh,” Emilio said, “she looked at you like you had two heads.”

  Archie laughed. “It’s like we’re not even here.”

  Emilio shook his head. “Steven told me he walked up to some woman on the street in Baltimore, did everything he could think of to get her to notice him, just to see what she’d do. Went so far as to hop down the sidewalk beside her for half a block.”

  Archie’s lips curled into a smile. “And?”

  “Nothing. Didn’t bat an eye.”

  “To be ignored by everyone who passes you by, like your life doesn’t matter.” Any joviality in Archie’s tone vanished like a candle’s flame in a hurricane. He inclined his head toward a homeless man in flannel and corduroys panhandling outside the novelty shop two doors down. “How must he feel? The best among us may feel pity or even compassion toward such a troubled soul, but most feel only guilt, revulsion, apathy.”

  “Whoa, Archie.” Emilio’s scooted away from the suddenly morose priest. “You okay?”

  “Sorry.” The sparkle in Archie’s eye reignited. “I let my mind get away from me.”

  Before Emilio could probe further, Lena and Audrey exited the café and headed in their direction. Their cloaks flowing in the gentle breeze, each carried a pair of iced coffees. Smiling, Lena handed one of hers to Emilio while Audrey offered her extra cup to Archie.

  “Thank you, my dear.” Archie took a sip of the icy beverage. “I’ve steered clear of anything with caffeine for years, but I think this young body will be able to handle it better than my previous trappings. Also, I suspect we’re all going to be up for a while and anything that helps toward that end is welcome.”

  Lena glanced down at her watch and cast her gaze about the square. “Where is he? It’s been hours and it’s getting dark.”

  “Don’t worry.” Emilio took a gulp of his drink. “Steven can take care of himself.”

  “I would not be so quick to dismiss your concerns.” Audrey and Lena started at the sound of Grey’s voice, his form invisible among the deepening shadows of evening. “Steven assured me he would be along well before now.”

  “Do you think he’s all right?” Lena asked.

  “Have faith,” Grey said. “If anything serious had happened to Steven, I would know. In fact, we all would.”

  “He’ll be here,” Audrey said. “That’s what I know.”

  Lena nodded in agreement. “He’s not let us down yet.”

  “Still, every moment wasted is a moment our opponent can turn against us. As it stands, two Pieces remain to be found. Though Steven and the four of you stand ready, your mettle proven, the Black stands fully assembled while we have yet to claim our Rook or King.”

  “The Rook is the Castle, right?” Lena asked.

  “In a manner of speaking.” Grey adjusted his hat. “You see, Lena—”

  “I can see him, you know.” Archie’s mouth turned up into a strange grin.

  “Who?” Audrey knelt before Archie. “Who c
an you see?”

  “The White Rook.” Archie’s voice became strange and distant. “He is a strong one, though his life hangs by the most tenuous of threads. If someone isn’t there to catch him…” A quiet giggle escaped the priest’s lips a moment before his face resumed its previous solemnity. “Go on, Grey.” His voice as well had returned to normal. “You were saying?”

  Grey stared at him from beneath a furrowed brow, the wizard’s incredulous expression mirrored on all their faces.

  “Did I… say something?” Archie asked.

  “Um… yeah,” Emilio said. “You started talking out of your head again.”

  “You were talking about the White Rook,” Lena said. “You said you could see him, that he was in some kind of danger.”

  Archie sat in baffled silence.

  “Can you remember any of it?” Audrey asked. “Anything at all?”

  Archie’s eyes slid closed, and for a long while, he said nothing. When he did speak, the words again left his mouth in a voice not quite his own. “I see two towers in the midst of a sprawling city. The King and the Queen. It is dark there, and he is alone.” The priest shivered. “No. Not alone.” His eyes sprung open, awash with fear. “He’s anything but alone.”

  “It is as I feared.” Grey stepped out of the circle and turned toward the center of town. “Wait here for Steven and no matter what, stay together. If the Black make an appearance, trust that I will not be far.” And with that, he walked away without a single glance back.

  As Lena and Emilio pumped Archie for further details of his vision, Grey meandered up the main thoroughfare away from the hubbub of Market Square. Reaching the far corner of the third block, he lingered for a moment by a small pawnshop that was closed for the evening.