by Dwayne Gill
Daniel respected him for what he’d been through, but after Bob spoke of his situation once, he didn’t want to discuss it again. He’d even make jokes about the prosthetic leg he now sported; he was trying hard to make the most of his life despite the setbacks and tragedy.
On this particular morning, however, something seemed off about Bob. He seemed distracted. He slid Daniel’s breakfast tray to him earlier, without saying a word, and left quickly.
Daniel now watched Bob limp down the hallway, looking down at his feet.
“That hunchback book is shit, Bob. The guy cooks people.” Bob looked up then veered toward Daniel’s cell.
“They’re moving you again,” said Bob. He was whispering and looking around him.
“Why?” Daniel was confused and irritated; he didn’t want to be transferred again.
Bob looked uncomfortable, like he was unsure of what to say. Beads of sweat were visible on his forehead; Daniel wasn’t sure if it was stress or the physical exertion, but he seemed distraught. “I don’t think you’re going to another prison,” he said.
More confused now, Daniel rose from his bunk and walked to the bars to keep Bob from having to shout-whisper.
“If they’re not moving me to a prison, then where are they moving me?” asked Daniel.
“I’m not sure, but it doesn’t sound good,” said Bob.
“Can you find out?” Daniel asked.
Bob frowned and looked down. “I’ll do my best.” He walked back down the hall and disappeared, and Daniel sat back down on his bed. What a strange morning, he thought.
◆◆◆
Once Bob made it out of the building, he took out his phone and texted a message to a number he had saved a month ago. He was shaking so badly, he could barely type on the keypad of the old, obsolete phone. The person who contacted him a month ago had given it to him to use for this specific occasion.
It had been a long month. When he was first approached by the lady, her beauty had paralyzed him. He hadn’t been with another woman since his wife died, so he’d been fighting the effects of loneliness for some time. He met the woman at a bar, and they talked for an hour, first small talk, then about life and the tragedies they shared. By the end of the night, with the help of a few bottles of beer, Bob was putty in her hands. She suggested they go back to Bob’s place, to which he wholeheartedly agreed.
Once they were there, her demeanor shifted. The small talk was replaced by a calm appeal for his help. She wasn’t forceful or demanding; the softness with which she asked reminded Bob of how someone would’ve asked for help to get out of an abusive situation.
Bob listened as she spelled out a situation that, if true, frightened and disturbed him to the core. As crazy as it sounded, he believed her. It was something about her; maybe her honest eyes, or just her overall sincerity, dispelled his skepticism.
Her request had been a simple one; he was to report anything happening around Daniel. If anyone, especially any of the other guards, said anything about him, no matter how insignificant it seemed, he was to report it to her by text. He agreed to do so.
The past month had been uneventful, so much so that he’d nearly forgotten about his responsibility, until this morning when he overheard one of the warden’s lieutenants discussing Daniel. Bob heard him say they were moving him Wednesday, and he sounded irritated about it, almost like the order made little sense. Bob’s heart raced, and although he had trouble hearing the entire context of the lieutenant’s next statement, he definitely heard him mention the FBI.
Bob was so flustered that he couldn’t hide his apprehension in front of Daniel. The lady never told him he should relay anything to Daniel, but he panicked back in the hall. Shouldn’t Daniel know too?
He finished typing the message explaining what he’d overheard and hit “send.” It’s done. He sat down on a concrete bench for a minute to catch his breath, wondering if he was doing the right thing. He saw nothing wrong with what he was doing, but the things the lady told him made him paranoid.
Just as he was calming down, he felt the small phone vibrate in his hand. He flipped it over and looked; it was a new message.
Thank you so much, Bob. You saved someone’s life.
Bob felt better, like maybe he did the right thing. Then he thought of her; he wished he could see her again. She was so soft and beautiful. He looked again at the message and sighed as he read through it once more.
Thank you so much, Bob. You saved someone’s life. Regards, Marcene.
Roughing It
Sunday, 9/10/2028, 10:00 a.m.
Naperville, Illinois
Cane drove down the long dirt driveway that led to a lonely house at the end. A tall privacy fence surrounded the house, but other than that, there was nothing between it and the main highway. It looked like there were once houses on both sides of the path, but if so, someone had demolished them at some point, leaving a barren waste behind. There were struggling patches of grass growing here and there, but it was mostly hard, packed dirt. There were no other houses in sight, although there was a densely populated area just around the corner.
Cane didn’t like driving down such a long, exposed driveway, heading toward the unknown. Lynks had done his homework on Calvin Wilson on the drive here, however. He had a criminal record, but the charges were drug-related and occurred when he was younger. Lynks spotted connections to mob activity in and around Chicago, but it looked like his involvement had tapered off the last few years. While there was still mystery surrounding Calvin, they both thought there was no reason to think he was dangerous.
Natalie suggested finding his phone number and calling him first, but they decided against it. Cane thought it would be foolish to give anyone advanced warning of their arrival.
The house was huge and modern; it looked like someone built it within the past five years. It was gray brick and had massive white columns in front. The front porch stretched out into a maze of brick walkways in the front yard with arrays of flowers and bushes scattered around. It was beautiful.
Cane could see movement on the other side of the wooden fence as he came to a stop.
“Wait here,” he said to Lynks and Natalie.
He climbed out of the van and walked through the brick pathway that led to the front door. When he was halfway there, the door swung partially open, just wide enough for the barrel of a rifle to fit through. Cane stopped.
“Who are you?” shouted a man’s voice from the front door.
Cane didn’t know how to identify himself apart from giving his name. He hoped that Calvin had been forewarned about his visit, but he couldn’t be sure. He stood there, hands to his side, trying to make it clear he wasn’t a threat, although he knew his appearance betrayed it. “My name is Cane,” he said.
He could hear other voices near the door, and he listened to Calvin telling them to get back.
“I need to make sure it’s you,” said Calvin. “How’d you find me?”
Cane thought about the cassettes. Both he and the professor received them, so why not this guy too?
“Marcene left instructions for me to come meet you. On a cassette tape.” He threw the name Marcene in for good measure in case Calvin needed more convincing. It worked; as soon as he finished his statement, the barrel disappeared from the doorway.
“What’s the password?” asked Calvin.
He thought back to the tape but was sure there was no mention of a password. He looked back at Lynks, who looked equally confused. As he considered his next move, he heard Calvin laugh. “Just kidding. Come inside,” he said.
Puzzled, Cane motioned to Lynks and Natalie, and they walked forward. The front door now swung open all the way, revealing Calvin. Lynks had retrieved photos of him, so Cane knew what he looked like, but he appeared older in person. He was smiling as Cane approached.
“So I finally get to meet someone else who’s received these weird recordings. I hope you have answers. I’m Calvin,” he said, speaking to all three. Lynks an
d Natalie had made their way through the brick pathway and stood beside Cane.
Calvin escorted them inside and they sat in the living room. They had plenty of seating choices: two L-shaped couches, love seats, recliners, and even bean bag chairs were arranged around the giant room. Cane wondered who the other voices he heard belonged to; he saw evidence suggesting Calvin wasn’t the only person who stayed here, including a blue bikini top lying on the floor next to one of the love seats.
“I know it’s not much to look at. I’ve been roughing it in this shack for a while,” said Calvin.
Cane and Lynks looked at him blankly while Natalie laughed out loud.
“Well, at least you got it,” he said. “What’s your name?”
She smiled. “Natalie.”
“And you must be Lynks,” said Calvin. Lynks nodded suspiciously.
“Marcene has mentioned you,” said Calvin.
“What has she told you?” asked Lynks.
“Believe it or not, the messages on the tapes weren’t very informative,” said Calvin. “Marcene never mentioned a girl coming with the two of you.”
“It’s a long story,” said Lynks.
“Which part?” asked Calvin.
“All of it,” said Lynks.
Calvin leaned back in his seat. “I have all the time in the world,” he said.
Lynks told Calvin the shortened version of how he and Cane met, about Red Delta and the aftermath, and how they saved Natalie and ended up here.
“So the guys at the hotel just randomly targeted you?” Calvin asked Natalie.
Natalie shrugged. “I have no idea what they wanted with me.”
Cane could still see the fear in her body language.
“They weren’t trying to kill her,” said Cane. “They had tranquilizers with them.”
Calvin’s eyes widened. “That’s even scarier, if you ask me,” he said.
Cane noticed Natalie’s expression change again. She must’ve agreed with Calvin, and they were both right. In Cane’s experience, if someone drugged and abducted another person, what followed would be far worse than death.
“Do you know why we’re here?” asked Cane.
“I do,” said Calvin. “You’re here to help Daniel. Marcene said you were capable of such a task.”
“How long have you been receiving messages from Marcene?” asked Cane.
Calvin looked surprised at the question. “Well. That’s tricky.”
Now Cane sat up in his seat. “What do you mean, tricky?”
“Well,” said Calvin, “she contacted me about a month after Daniel got arrested, and twice after that. So, three times.”
“What’d she say?” asked Lynks.
“She contacted me the first time to help me. I was on the run and the marked men knew what I looked like. So she hid me,” said Calvin.
“Here?” asked Natalie.
Calvin nodded. “Beggars can’t be choosers,” he said. “I would’ve preferred a house on the beach, maybe a tennis court, but oh well.” Once again, Natalie was the only one who understood his humor. “Tough crowd,” he said.
“What about the second time Marcene contacted you?” Lynks asked.
Calvin looked uncomfortable with the question, but after a moment, he must’ve worked out that answering it was unavoidable. “She wanted my help hiding a girl in danger. She ended up staying here with me.”
“Who’s the girl?” asked Cane.
Calvin got up, walked across the room, and beckoned them to follow, which they did. They walked down a hallway that led to the back of the house until they reached traditional-style French doors leading outside to a large swimming pool and beautiful garden area encased by a ten-foot privacy fence. Two guards were standing around the pool, and another sat on a wooden bench under a gazebo. All three were armed but had their weapons holstered. Two late teen-looking girls were in the pool playing, laughing, and splashing around. They looked like they were having the time of their lives.
“Those two girls, they’re all that matter now. I’ve been here over a year with them.”
“Who are they?” Lynks asked.
“The one in the blue swimsuit with short hair is Taryn. The older-looking one is Jordyn.”
Cane thought they looked the same age. “Why are they here?”
“Taryn is the reason Daniel’s in jail,” said Calvin. “Not that it’s her fault. He was just protecting her.”
“The marked men were after her?” asked Lynks.
“No. They were just plain citizens that didn’t get the memo, apparently,” said Calvin.
“Daniel’s not in jail for killing the marked men?” asked Lynks.
Calvin shook his head. “Nope. I don’t think people go to jail for that. I think they just disappear.”
“Who’s the other girl?” asked Cane.
“That’s Jordyn,” said Calvin. “She’s the one whom Marcene asked me to hide here. She has quite a story to tell.”
The two girls now teased a guard outside the pool, playfully splashing water at him. He was shaking his finger, smiling.
“Do you remember the marked man who killed a bunch of high school girls about four years ago?” Calvin looked at Lynks but was directing the question to all three. Lynks and Natalie nodded.
“Well, she was one of the victims,” said Calvin. “In fact, it was her birthday celebration.”
Cane remembered the incident vaguely.
“A marked man entered the house and opened fire on the whole party, killed nine people, then shot himself,” said Calvin. “Jordyn was shot in the head and nearly died, but she survived. While she was at the hospital, in a coma, someone tried to finish her off. Some hospital staff intervened and drove the killer away. The next day, Jordyn disappeared. Just vanished. Most thought the killer got to her, but Marcene must’ve come and snatched her up to protect her. Jordyn spent the next few years being tended to at a private clinic in Maine. She came out of her coma and rehabbed, and I guess once she was strong enough, Marcene wanted her here.”
There was a moment of silence as the four of them observed the girls in the pool. They now lay on floating mats, tanning themselves.
“After Jordyn arrived, I understood why Marcene wanted her here,” said Calvin. “Those two girls have become best friends. I think they needed each other.”
“Does Jordyn remember anything from the attack?” asked Cane.
Calvin looked at him. “She remembers everything now.”
“Can we talk to her?” asked Cane.
Calvin smiled. “Of course. She’d love to talk. That’s no fragile girl out there. She’s a fighter.” He stepped out the French doors and walked to the edge of the pool. Both girls floated to the side where he stood and they had a brief conversation. The two girls shot glances over their shoulders toward the doors, then Taryn lay back on her mat while Jordyn climbed out and toweled off.
Jordyn had thick, dark brown hair that fell just past her shoulders and soft features which made her appear younger than her twenty years. She was of average height and weight and built like an athlete. Cane guessed her muscle tone was due in part to her rehabilitation. Often, people rehabbing a debilitating injury or recovering from a coma developed a tenacious routine that continues once they’re whole again. Natalie was the first to greet Jordyn as she stepped through the French doors. Where one may expect a shy, beat-down, injured girl, Jordyn was not. She smiled radiantly and held herself confidently.
Calvin stood beside her as everyone found a place to sit. “Jordyn, these are friends,” said Calvin. He introduced them all, and she looked them over, pausing on Cane for a moment. She didn’t appear afraid of him, just wary. Calvin squeezed her shoulder affectionately. “They want to ask you about the attack,” said Calvin.
She didn’t seem surprised by the request; Calvin may have coached her up for this moment, or perhaps she was just strong-willed. Maybe talking about it empowered her, Cane pondered. He thought of Kristy and the trauma she’d been dealing wit
h. Kristy never refused to speak about it but wasn’t eager to, which was understandable. However, Cane could see the value of an approach like Jordyn’s and respected her for facing her troubles head-on.
“I’ll just start from the beginning, if that’s okay,” said Jordyn. Everyone nodded their approval. She smiled, took a deep breath, and told them what happened, from her perspective. She struggled to keep her composure at times, but Cane could tell how resilient she had become. When she mentioned Amos’s name, Cane perked up. That name just keeps popping up.
Jordan struggled through the story near the end when she revealed her father as the shooter, pausing several times to gather herself. For a moment, Cane didn’t think she’d be able to finish, but she repeatedly composed herself and continued.
“The next thing I remember is waking up at the clinic,” she said. “I was in a coma for six months.”
No one seemed to be eager to ask questions for a few minutes; the weight of what happened could be felt by all in the room. After a few minutes, Jordyn had not only composed herself, but she was sitting up straight and smiling. Her resilience impressed Cane.
“Were you and your dad close?” asked Lynks.
“Yes, until a few months before my birthday,” said Jordyn.
“What happened?” asked Lynks.
“I don’t know,” said Jordyn. “My mom thought he was cheating, which would explain how distant he was. He never came home and was acting strange. He wasn’t himself.”
“Did he act scared? Like maybe he’d met some bad people?” asked Lynks.
Jordyn thought for a moment before shaking her head. “Not that I can remember. I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to determine how far-fetched it was for my dad to kill me, to shoot me so cold-bloodedly. Well, we were close. I was a daddy’s girl. He never abused me or my mom and never showed a hint of violence before. And I can tell you this: the man that shot me in the head that night was not my dad. It was his body, but his eyes, they were blank. He didn’t know who I was. I would swear to it.”
