by Logan Fox
We drive for a few minutes, headed downtown. Our route takes us past a mall, and then almost back the way we came before heading downtown again.
Are they being paranoid? Retracing their steps?
Or are they struggling to find their way in a strange town? Ha, if Apollo’s the one navigating, then we’re all in for a few more U-turns.
Eventually, we venture into the suburbs. Perfect little houses on their perfect little lawns. Two and three bedrooms, mostly. Some double stories here and there.
Where are we headed, boys? I can’t for a second believe Gabriel would live in a place like this.
Trinity.
I start looking around a little harder. Driving a little slower.
Is this her old neighborhood? There was no address on the intake form at Saint Amos. I guess, by then, she was officially a ward of the state.
Or someone had fucked with her records.
My brothers turn down a side street. I park on the sidewalk, tracking them on my phone’s app, because I have a feeling this is their last turn.
Seconds later they stop.
Then I’m out of the car and jogging down the opposite side of the road. Thank God I had the foresight to pack a hoody. I keep the hood pulled up as I jog. Paired with sunglasses, I’m hoping I’d look like another guy out on a jog, but I know it’ll only take one longer-than-normal glance in my direction for my brothers to recognize me.
The people around here like their trees and shrubs. And not so much fences between properties. As long as no one looks out their window and spots me jogging over their freshly manicured lawn, I should be good.
My brothers’ silver car is parked a few drives down, opposite side of the road. I slow down, slip behind a bushy shrub, and stretch like I’ve got a cramp. But all the while peeking at them through a gap in the foliage.
A minute later they get out of the car. Reuben first, his head turning all directions as if he’s scouting for danger.
Then Cass.
Then Apollo.
But they just stand there, talking. Watching.
I peer down my side of the road. There are a few trees and shrubs I could use as cover, but I have no idea which house they’re targeting. I could end up jogging right into their line of sight.
Reuben turns and looks straight at me.
I throw myself back, stumble over a fucking garden gnome, and land flat on my ass.
As I’m about to get up, I hear a door open behind me. I look back as an old lady walks out onto her porch. She scans her lawn, and despite her thick glasses—or perhaps because of them—sees me.
Shit.
I get up, trying not to bolt, and then stop when I feel a tug on my pants leg.
Christ, I’ve gotten my jeans hooked in a thorn.
The old lady’s garden isn’t quite as well kept as the others around here. Her roses, for instance, are the kind you’d expect growing wild around a mansion where neighborhood kids dare each other to knock on the door.
I yank at my pants, and that shakes the entire row of fucking roses.
If Reuben is still looking this way, it would look mighty suspicious.
So I fall into a crouch and do my best to unhook my jeans without rustling as much as a single leaf.
“Everything all right, dearie?” a thin, wobbly voice wants to know.
I glance up into a pair of watery blue eyes, and give the old woman the most charming smile I have. “Got a little stuck on your roses,” I tell her through my teeth.
“They are magnificent, aren’t they?” she wheezes, clasping her hands at her breast as if she’s offering up a prayer to God for her killer botanicals.
Another subtle yank, and finally my jeans are free. But I don’t stand yet, because that would put my head and shoulders above the rose bush. I don’t want to reveal myself until I know what the hell they’re up to. And the last thing they need is a distraction.
I glance around. I could head back the way I came, but Mrs. Nosy’s yard is wide open but for this thorny hedge.
“Are you with the church?” Mrs. Nosy wants to know.
I stare up at her with a frown. Dressed in a hoody? In what world could I possibly—
But then her eyes move down my chest, fix on something there a second, and fly back to my eyes. Her smile brightens a little.
I look down too, to see what she finds so fascinating.
Trinity’s crucifix. Blood red against my gray hoody. Impossible to miss. It must have come out while I was jogging, or when I landed on my ass beside her roses.
Mrs. Nosy beckons me with a frail hand. “Why don’t you come inside, dear? I’ll fix you a glass of lemonade.”
I feel like I’ve stepped through a portal back to the eighties where old ladies go around offering cold beverages to any sweaty teen that happens to come within yelling distance of their whitewashed porches.
But my options are limited. If I break cover, my brothers could see me. If I go inside with the nice lady and let her pour me a drink, I could wait them out. Keep track of them on my phone. Fuck, I might even give them a call and see if they pick up.
Don’t know what I’d even say if they did, but I’d think of something.
The old woman’s name is Langley, and she’s a Mizzz because her husband died a long time ago.
I’m starting to think she had ulterior motives for the lemonade, especially when she puts down a plate of cookies too. I ignore them—I haven’t touched refined sugar for many years. I don’t plan on falling off that wagon any time soon, so I only take imaginary sips from the glass of lemonade.
“Are you one of the new missionary boys they told us about on Sunday?” Miss Langley asks.
I would have choked on my cold drink if I’d actually been drinking it. “Missionary boy?”
“For the mission to Ghana.” Langley beams, which happens anytime she mentions the church.
Now I’m convinced this is Trinity’s old haunt. It could just be this one biddy, but I have a feeling everyone around here is really serious about finding Jesus.
A priest like Gabriel really brings that out in a person.
I figure I don’t have much to lose except having the cookies withdrawn—God willing—so I say, “Ghana.” I look introspective. “God willing, Miss Langley, we’ll be changing hundreds of lives in that village.”
She clasps her hands again, her lips trembling. “Oh, you must be so excited.”
“I am.” I shift in my seat, nod my head a little. “But if it wasn’t for Father Gabriel, I wouldn’t even be here.”
“Father…” Langley sags in her chair. “I miss him so much. He was such a good influence on you young ones.”
Fuck, if she only knew. But I nod along, try and look as Catholic as possible, and even go as far as to toy with Trinity’s crucifix.
“Actually, I’ve never met him.”
Langley’s eyes widen behind her thick glasses. “You haven’t?”
“No. It was Trinity.” I pick up a cookie, break off a piece. “She told me all about Father Gabriel.”
“Trinity!” Langley lets out a long sigh as she sinks back in her chair. “How is she, the little lamb?”
“Oh, she’s doing wonderfully.”
“I’m so glad.” Langley shakes her head as she looks out the kitchen window with its lacy curtains. “I was so upset to hear what happened. And right here, so close to home.”
“The accident happened here?”
“Oh no, that was somewhere in town.” Langley waves a dismissive hand. “I mean, for such a gifted child to lose her parents. So young.”
“Gifted?” I sound incredulous, and Langley doesn’t like that one bit.
Her eyes are narrowed when she turns back to look at me. “Father Gabriel always said she was a gift from God. Her mother couldn’t conceive for many years.” Langley shakes her head, clucks like a mother hen. “But then Keith and Monica found God, and He blessed them with a child.”
Seems everyone knows everyone in this place.
Hell on earth.
I don’t know how to react to what she said, so I don’t. Instead I finally take a small sip of lemonade and try not to think about how much sugar it has in it.
“Such a wonderful family,” Langley says. She stares out the window again, a fond look on her face. “That child was always so sweet. A true blessing. Never once when I looked after her did she as much as make a fuss.”
Looked after?
“Now I remember,” I say, nodding and toying with another piece of cookie. “I was wondering where I’d heard your name. Trinity mentioned you.”
“Oh, she did?” The old lady blinks rapidly. Dear God, is she fogging up? “How kind of her.”
“Said you were her favorite babysitter.”
Langley’s eyes start brimming. She hurriedly looks away, and then seems to come to. “Oh, uh, you’ll be needing that donation.” She stands before I have a chance to ask her what the hell she’s on about.
She disappears down the hall, and I take my drink and pour it down the sink. When she comes back in, I’m in my seat again, just putting the glass back on the table. Her already wide smile grows when she spots my empty glass. “Would you like another?”
“Oh no,” I tell her, patting my stomach like we’ve just finished Thanksgiving dinner together. “Folks around here are too kind.”
She giggles a little at this and starts writing out a check.
Like taking donations from the congregation.
She hands it to me, but doesn’t let go. “Where is your little…the clipboard? With the—” she gestures vaguely “—with the place for me to sign?”
I pat my pockets theatrically. “You know, Miss Langley, I think I left it next door.”
Her eyes almost goggle out of their sockets. With surprising speed for such an aging gal, she’s on her feet, her head whipping to that same kitchen window as before. “Father Gabriel is back?”
And then it’s as if her lemonade was spiked with fucking amphetamines. I’m standing a second later, ruthlessly suppressing the urge to run.
“What do you mean?” My voice comes from far away.
“Gabriel!” She turns to me, clasps her hands again. This time like she’s begging. “Oh, I thought… I thought you just came from him. I was hoping he’d come back.”
I want to shake her until her teeth rattle. “Back where? I don’t—”
“Didn’t Trinity tell you?”
My heart bangs into my breastbone as if to try and get me moving. “Tell me what?” I’m grimacing at her through my teeth, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
“Father Gabriel. He moved into their old house. I guess the estate put it up for sale, but I never saw a board outside. And I’d have noticed—they’re going up all over the place! Why, we had a young couple move in right across the road. Big house for just the two of them. You’d think they’re planning to fill it, but I don’t know. The woman looks closer to forty than thirty.” Langley shrugs, as if the fact that she’s rambling isn’t having any effect on me.
It is.
I’m about to have a heart attack if she doesn’t tell me what I need to know. “Gabriel is living next door?”
“Yes, yes he is. But he’s hardly ever here. Still, so much better than living next door to a stranger, wouldn’t you say?”
I don’t say anything.
I turn and I run the fuck out of that house like the devil himself is breathing down my fucking neck.
They’re here for Trinity, not Gabriel. Somehow, they got the address for her old house. That’s why they parked down the street.
But if Gabriel bought the property, who the fuck knows what kind of traps he laid out for unwanted guests?
I run, and I don’t stop.
I plow right through Langley’s roses, ignoring the thorns that prick at my skin, and I race across the next-door neighbor’s lawn.
But I’m too late.
Cass is up front, about to try and open the door. Fuck, maybe he’s even going to try knocking first.
Reuben and Apollo? They’re straggling behind, fuck knows why.
I’m closer to Cass than they are, but I’m still too far away.
All I can say is, thank God for Miss Langley’s lemonade.
When I grit my teeth and push, I go a little faster. I clear the hedge separating me from Cass like an Olympic hurdler.
I crash into him just as the door opens.
Just in time to see Trinity’s shocked face.
Just in time to see the shadow deeper in the house.
A man, lifting a gun.
Because of course he has a fucking gun. Why wouldn’t he?
Cass and I go over another rose bush. He’s yelling. I scramble up, dart back to the door.
Trinity is still standing there, blocking me. She doesn’t seem to realize she’s about to die.
It’s better, not knowing.
As soon as I shove her out of the way, that gun is on me. Pointing at me. I know I’m already dead.
And the knowledge sits there like heartburn in my brain. It tries to overwhelm me, to render me useless through fear, but I shove it away even harder than I shoved her away.
I sprint down the passage. Three steps, and I’m there. Staring into a pair of brown eyes that should recognize me, but don’t.
When I slam into Gabriel, the gun goes off.
But it’s fine, because it doesn’t hurt. I’m still moving, still fighting.
I herd him backward through momentum and rage. Pushing, pushing.
We end up in the living room a second later. His teeth are bared like a wild animal’s. I’m snarling like a beast. We tackle each other, end up on the carpet. I get a blow to his head. He gets a knee to my groin.
And then the gun goes off again.
And this time…
This time there is pain.
It’s vast and it’s endless and fucking magnificent in its abundance.
But that’s not fine, because now I can’t fight anymore. And Gabriel…he’s on his feet. He’s running.
Thank you Jesus.
He’s not running toward the front door. Toward Trinity or my brothers.
The cowardly fuck is running away.
Thank Christ.
I try to cross myself, but my body just lies there.
Body and mind. Two different things entirely.
I’m still here. I’m still conscious. But all I can do is watch and observe—paralyzed as, all around me, the world dissolves into chaos.
Chapter Twenty
Rube
I’ve never felt so torn in my life. My body is being sent in two different directions by a mind suddenly unable to prioritize. But I’m rooted to the spot because this is where Zachary is lying.
We’re in Trinity’s living room, judging from the couches and the dusty television set. But Trinity’s not here. She’s still in the passage by the front door.
That’s where I want to be.
I caught a glimpse of Gabriel a second before he turned a corner and disappeared toward the back of the house. No doubt escaping through the back door we would have been covering if Cass hadn’t been so fucking impulsive.
That’s where I want to be too.
Instead I’m standing here, watching Zachary’s blood soak into the carpet.
And then Trinity screams, and it’s as if everyone’s minds come back from wherever they’d wandered off to.
“He’s getting away!” Cass says, but he’s running toward Trinity, not Gabriel.
Apollo falls to his knees beside me, inadvertently soaking his jeans in blood. “Is he dead?”
I don’t know.
I just don’t fucking know.
“Call an ambulance,” I tell Apollo.
But now his hands are full of blood because he was trying to stop it running out of the two holes in Zachary’s torso, and that’s freaking him out and he’s gone and frozen up.
“Apollo!”
Brown eyes snap to me. “Yes?”
He can’t b
e here. Not around all this blood. Like a fucking candle in a snow storm.
And I can’t let Gabriel get away either.
It shouldn’t be this easy to make crucial decisions, but it’s as if there’s no choice to make at all.
“Don’t let him get away!” My voice is too loud—it booms back to us—but maybe that’s what gets Apollo on his feet. I stab a finger down the passage. “Follow him!”
Apollo turns and runs.
“Just follow him!” I yell after Apollo’s retreating back, with no clue if he heard me or not.
Then it’s back to Zach because a glance behind me shows Cass is examining Trinity like he just got his Ph.D.
Guess neither of them is phoning the ambulance.
I fish my phone out of my pocket. There’s a part of me that’s sitting back and watching me operate, and it’s gobsmacked that I’m still functioning. That I’m lucid. That my voice is legible when the 911 operator on the other end of the line answers my call.
But that’s because they need me right now. My brothers. Trinity. They need me to be strong. I can freak out later, or not at all. I don’t need to add fuel to this fucking inferno.
“I need an ambulance.”
And then I go blank, because I guess a part of me isn’t all that focused right now.
“2192 Maude Street,” comes Trinity’s voice. It’s faint, but it’s steady.
That’s my girl.
The operator starts talking me through emergency procedures. Applying pressure to Zachary’s wounds to stop the bleeding. And I try. Fuck, I try. But his blood keeps seeping through my fingers. And it’s eating into the carpet and heading for my knees.
I shift back like it’s contagious.
Cass appears on the other side of Zach’s limp body. He moves away one of my hands, using both of his to stop the flow of blood from the wound.
I mimic him.
And slowly the blood stops trickling through my fingers. I like to think I did that. That I somehow stemmed the flow.
But it could be that Zach’s heart has stopped pumping.
Chapter Twenty-One
Apollo
Leaves and low-hanging branches whip against my face. Holy shit, did Gabriel run track or something? I’m struggling to keep up. He had less than a minute head start on me.