Protectors

by Kris Nelscott

  Eagle felt like she’d fallen down the rabbit hole. She half expected Alice to land beside her at any moment.

  She shrugged. Strawberry sighed a third time, as if the burden on her in this conversation was immense.

  “The people who vanish,” Strawberry said. “They’re, y’know, hardcore Movement people. SDS or Third World Liberation Front or Diggers or complete radicals. One or two acid freaks went missing too, but acid freaks do. They just vanish, like you said.”

  Eagle followed some of that, but not all of it. She had heard of the Third World Liberation Front because of their violent protests earlier in the year. She’d heard of the SDS—the Students for a Democratic Society—because of the protests that had turned violent at the 1968 Democratic National Convention. But Diggers? She hadn’t heard of them.

  At least she knew what acid freaks were.

  “You’re saying that kids are disappearing,” Eagle said.

  Jill shook her head and opened her mouth. Eagle could almost see the thought balloon: They didn’t disappear. They gave up and went home from college. People do that.

  “Kids,” Eagle added, “who have a real life here. They’re the ones who vanished.”

  “Not just a real life,” Strawberry said. “They’ve renounced the conventional shit. They’re active. They’re involved. They’re the soldiers for the good war, y’know? They’d never go back to Dullsville. They might leave Berkeley, but only for something important, like a march or something.”

  This time, it was Eagle who had to blink hard to keep from rolling her eyes. Since when had a march become important? They were a waste of time.

  “Could you make a list of the people who’ve disappeared?” Eagle asked.

  “For what?” Strawberry’s tone had changed. “Who would want a list?”

  “Me,” Eagle said. “Something’s going on here—”

  “And what are you, a cop?” Strawberry asked. “I thought you were a doctor.”

  “A medic,” Jill corrected. “But she is former—”

  “I’m not a cop,” Eagle said quickly. She knew if Jill mentioned that Eagle was former military, Strawberry would clam up completely. “I agree, though, something weird is happening here—”

  “Former what?” Strawberry interrupted, in that same cold tone.

  Eagle sighed. Again, one of those moments when a lie would be the best thing. But she didn’t want to lie exactly. “I’m a nurse. I don’t work at a hospital here in the city, which is probably why Jill is saying former.”

  She glanced sideways at Jill, hoping Jill was smart enough to take the hint. Jill crossed her arms and leaned against the counter, her expression flat. She clearly wasn’t sure what to make of this.

  “So why do you want a list?” Strawberry asked.

  In for a penny, in for a pound. Eagle had never completely understood the expression until this discussion. She felt like she couldn’t escape it without giving more than she was getting.

  “Because of what happened a few nights ago,” Eagle said.

  “What happened?” Jill asked.

  Strawberry looked at her, clearly surprised. But Eagle wasn’t sure what surprised her. The fact that something had happened that Eagle hadn’t shared with Jill or the fact that adults didn’t form a solid group or the fact that Jill was even in the conversation still.

  Eagle took a deep breath. What she was going to say seemed so dramatic in the cold morning light of the kitchen.

  “Late Saturday night,” she said, “not far from here, I saw a man abduct a woman.”

  “What?” Jill raised her voice. “And you didn’t think to warn us?”

  The irritation Eagle always felt around Jill returned. It’s not about you, Eagle wanted to say.

  Strangely, Strawberry was the one who asked the reasonable question. “What happened?”

  “I heard a woman screaming,” Eagle said, keeping it short. “I ran out of my apartment, trying to find the source of the screams, and saw this woman being held by a man near a one-ton pickup truck. He saw me, hit her against the truck a few times, and threw her into the bed of the pickup. Then he drove off. I followed, but I couldn’t stop him.”

  “I don’t know why you thought you could,” Jill said. “Haven’t you listened to Pammy? She said never engage. Get help if possible. You can’t defeat a man like that with your fists. I hope you called the cops.”

  Eagle ignored the implied question. She didn’t want to tell Strawberry that the cops were already involved. Given her reaction a moment ago, Strawberry would stop talking if she knew.

  Strawberry’s gaze remained on Eagle. Strawberry’s expression was hard. Now that she was quiet, the intelligence in her eyes came out. The girl was really bright. She just hid it with all that random chatter.

  “You saw a Ford F-350,” she said to Eagle.

  Eagle’s breath caught. “Yes.”

  “Black,” Strawberry said.

  Jill stood up straight, as if she finally realized she wasn’t part of the conversation.

  “I think so,” Eagle said. “It was night, and the streetlight wasn’t real close. The truck was dark, though. California plates.”

  “Yes,” Strawberry said.

  “You’ve seen this truck,” Eagle said.

  “Everyone has,” Strawberry said, with maddening lack of precision.

  “When people disappear?” Eagle asked.

  Strawberry glanced at Jill. Jill was frowning at her.

  Strawberry stood a little taller, as if she had made a decision. She kept her gaze on Jill as she said, “I’m not calling the cops, so if this conversation bugs you, get out now. Because I want to talk to the doc here.”

  Eagle winced at being called “doc.” But she was intrigued too. What about her last question prompted that response from Strawberry?

  “I’ll stay,” Jill said.

  Strawberry studied her for a moment. Eagle could feel Strawberry withdrawing. She didn’t want to talk with Jill in the room, and Jill was too dense to see it.

  Eagle knew what Strawberry sensed about Jill. Strawberry knew Jill was a woman who had no qualms listening to the conversation, and then calling the police herself.

  “I think we all need to hear what you have to say,” Eagle said to Strawberry in her most businesslike tone.

  Strawberry opened her mouth to protest, but Eagle wouldn’t let her. She turned to Jill and added, “Jill, why don’t you get Pammy? The class should be done now, and she needs to hear this.”

  Jill’s lips thinned. She glanced at Strawberry but Strawberry didn’t move.

  Eagle wanted to give Strawberry some kind of signal, something to show her that she shouldn’t give up on the conversation yet.

  Eagle hoped Strawberry was bright enough to get the subtext.

  Jill wasn’t. She nodded once and said, “Don’t say anything until I get back.”

  “Okay,” Strawberry said, her voice choked and strange.

  Jill smiled grimly, then let herself out of the kitchen.

  “We only have a minute,” Eagle said.

  Strawberry stared at the door, as if she half-expected Jill to be listening in. Then Strawberry took a deep breath and said, “Everyone’s seen the truck. We think it might belong to a cop or something. He started showing up here in January, but nobody noticed anything until March/April. Nobody saw him after the Park. We figured he got busy with guarding the streets or whatever. I hadn’t heard he was back.”

  All the hippie jargon had left her voice. She looked deadly serious. Eagle had a sense she was finally seeing the woman that Strawberry was underneath the tie-dye and gauze. Serious, committed, and determined.

  “Has he threatened people?” Eagle asked.

  “No,” Strawberry said. “People just kind of put it together that they’d seen the truck and then someone would disappear.”

  “But no one saw anyone get abducted.” Eagle said.

  “Except you,” Strawberry said. “You saw it.”

  “Why
did you have suspicions about this particular truck?” Eagle asked.

  “It doesn’t fit,” Strawberry said. “Nobody has a truck like that down here. Some of the Movement people say it shouts The Man, y’know? But I think that it’s worse. I think it screams redneck. And I don’t know about you, but the rednecks I know are dangerous sons of bitches.”

  Eagle knew a lot of rednecks. She’d saved a lot of their lives. She’d liked them, for the most part, when she’d met them in the service. They were good, committed men, who were actually disappointed by what they had seen In Country.

  But she had also encountered a lot of rednecks here in the States, and they treated her the worst when she would go into Rapid City from the res. They knew she was Native, and they said things to her no one had said before or since. They also said it with an undercurrent of violence, as if they wanted her to know they meant business.

  “I do understand.” Eagle was speaking softer, listening for Pammy and Jill to return. “What about the driver? Has anyone seen him?”

  “I haven’t,” Strawberry said. “I haven’t even seen the truck.”

  Eagle let out a small breath. “But you know about it.”

  “Everyone knows about it,” Strawberry said again.

  “You mentioned that,” Eagle said. “What I want to know is how come you know about it if you’ve never seen it.”

  Strawberry took a deep breath. Voices outside the door were getting louder.

  “Because we’ve all been told to stay away from it,” she said. “We’ve been told the son of a bitch driving it will kill us if he gets too close.”

  “And you believe that?” Eagle asked.

  “After this spring?” Strawberry let out a small sound of disbelief. “E-yeah.”

  That last had a raised up tone, as if she were surprised that Eagle asked the question.

  “Hell,” Strawberry said, “everyone is trying to kill us. Cops. National Guard. Crazies. I thought you knew that.”

  “I did know that,” Eagle said. “I just don’t want to believe it.”

  And she still didn’t. That woman inside her, the one who liked rules and regulations, who wanted to believe in the inherent goodness of people, the one who had enlisted in a fit of patriotism. That woman was doomed to perpetual disappointment.

  She heard Jill’s voice, strident as it got closer to the door. The conversation was over, or at least, the part that Eagle wanted to hear.

  “How do I get in touch with you?” she asked Strawberry.

  “For your list?” Strawberry’s tone was snide.

  “Please,” Eagle said, surprised the word came out of her mouth.

  Strawberry was about to answer, and then the door opened. Jill and Pammy joined them, and Strawberry clammed up, maybe forever.

  12

  Pammy

  Class had just ended when Jill came to get Pammy. Jill bulldozed her way into the mingling group of women, all of whom moved like their muscles hurt, and all of whom had questions.

  Only Val remained at the edge of the crowd, looking up at the speed bags as if she wanted to try one. Pammy had planned to go to her, but Jill had touched Pammy’s shoulder, telling her she was needed in the kitchen.

  Pammy made excuses. She wanted to talk to the class, but she also knew they wanted to leave as quickly as they could. Usually after the first class, though, she made sure everyone had done all right.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said loudly.

  A few of the women looked disappointed. Pammy wasn’t even sure Val had heard her.

  Jill flanked Pammy’s side, and practically pushed her off the mat, and onto the hard linoleum floor. It took a moment to get out of hearing range, but as they reached the counter, Pammy figured it was okay to ask questions.

  “What’s going on?”

  Jill looked over her shoulder, lips so thin that they looked strained. Apparently someone was following, because Jill assumed a fake smile and said, “Well, what isn’t going on?”

  That was so unlike her, it made Pammy nervous. Jill stopped beside the counter and glanced at the flyer.

  Joan, the other new student, slid past them and walked into the locker room.

  “You know this girl?” Jill asked, nodding toward the flyer.

  “No,” Pammy said. “Her father dropped that off this morning.”

  “Well, Strawberry might know where she is.” Jill moved away from the counter and flanked Pammy again, forcing her forward.

  “You were talking to Strawberry about this?” Pammy couldn’t have been more shocked. Jill had made her disdain for the students, hippies, and street kids very clear.

  “Yeah, me and Strawberry and Eagle, believe it or not.” Jill put an emphasis on both names, one that showed just how much she disliked them.

  Pammy allowed herself a half-second of disbelief. The fact that the three women had had something close to a reasonable conversation surprised her.

  “Did you know Eagle is an Indian?” Jill asked.

  The non sequitur almost stopped Pammy in her tracks. She hadn’t known Eagle’s exact background, and she didn’t care.

  “She told you that?” Pammy asked.

  “She told Strawberry.” Jill sounded almost hurt.

  They stopped just outside the door. Jill looked at Pammy as if expecting a greater response from her.

  “Did you know that?” Jill asked.

  Pammy wasn’t sure how to answer or even if she should.

  But Jill didn’t wait for a response. “I mean, don’t you think it’s just strange? I didn’t think Indians could serve in the military, did you?”

  Pammy’s breath caught. That was what Jill thought of first? A misguided—no, a stupid—response like that.

  Pammy gave her a little smile, because she had no idea what else to do, and pushed the door open.

  Strawberry was standing near the refrigerator, looking focused. Eagle stood near the door, and glanced at Jill with annoyance.

  Pammy felt her cheeks warm. Eagle and Strawberry had to have sent Jill out of the room so that they could talk in private.

  “Jill said you needed me,” Pammy said before Jill could speak. She wanted to give Eagle and Strawberry an out.

  “We got it,” Eagle said, but Strawberry shook her head just a little.

  “That flyer you have?” Strawberry asked Pammy. “That girl? Did you know her?”

  Pammy shook her head, and stepped all the way into the room. “Her father dropped it off.”

  “Her father…?” Strawberry sounded surprised. Pammy had no idea why.

  Jill pushed Pammy forward, so that she could close the door to the tiny kitchen. Three people made the kitchen uncomfortably close. Four made it almost impossible to breathe.

  Eagle was watching Strawberry closely. Jill had shoved her way to the counter and continued unloading groceries. The rattle of the bag annoyed Pammy.

  “What’s her name?” Strawberry asked Pammy.

  “Darla Newsome.” Pammy wasn’t about to forget it.

  “And she just vanished?” Strawberry asked.

  “Almost a month ago,” Pammy said.

  Strawberry looked even more surprised. Eagle’s eyes narrowed as if Strawberry’s reaction was important.

  “Newsome.” Strawberry spoke the name slowly. “It doesn’t sound familiar, but, I mean, she could’ve had a nickname or something.”

  It almost sounded like Strawberry was talking to herself.

  “A nickname?” Jill asked, with an edge in her voice. “Like yours?”

  Eagle closed her eyes as if Jill had said the exact wrong thing. But Strawberry didn’t seem to notice.

  “Yeah,” Strawberry said. “Like mine.”

  She looked directly at Pammy. Pammy wasn’t sure she had ever noticed how blue Strawberry’s eyes were.

  “Her dad, was he, like, I mean, did he, y’know, say she was in the Movement or something?”

  “Which Movement?” Jill asked. “You told us there were a lot of them.�
�

  “Jill,” Eagle snapped. “Enough.”

  Strawberry let out a small sigh. She looked like she was nearly done talking, so Pammy decided to answer her question quickly.

  “Her father said Darla had political opinions, and that she dressed like you, but he didn’t say anything about activism.” Pammy hoped her voice held respect. She had learned that the hippie girls in particular were sensitive about getting respect. “He might not have known, though.”

  “True,” Strawberry said. “Did she leave everything behind?”

  “Yes,” Pammy said.

  “Was there a truck nearby?” Strawberry asked.

  Pammy refrained from glancing at Eagle. Now she knew why Eagle had wanted to talk to Strawberry alone.

  “What is with this truck?” Jill said. “People own trucks.”

  Eagle said tightly, “Jill, I swear—” but Pammy waved her silent.

  Not that it did any good because Jill whirled on Eagle. “You swear. You swear what? People own trucks, and kids drop out of school, and not everyone is political.”

  Jill glared at Strawberry, who looked a bit taken aback at Jill’s vehemence. Pammy certainly was. She’d never heard Jill so charged.

  “You’re the one who said it,” Jill said to Strawberry. “You said it was creepy down here, even if you denied that the martial law was the creepy part. But it was scary here in May and June, and frankly, I think most of the kids went home because they didn’t want any part of the violence and the protests that you people are causing—”

  “Jill!” Pammy spoke a little more loudly than she intended. But she had held this gym together with spit and glue, mostly by making her students keep politics outside the door.

  “Well, they are causing the trouble,” Jill said, a bit defensively.

  “That’s enough,” Pammy said. “We’re not talking about riots or politics. We’re talking about a missing girl.”

  “At least two missing girls,” Eagle said, her tone flat. Pammy had learned to pay attention to that tone. “One of them might be dead.”

  Jill shook her head, her mouth pursed. “You have no way to know that.”

  “For Chrissake.” Eagle took a step forward. The table stopped her momentum. “I know it better than you ever could. I’m a nurse. I know what injuries do. And she was injured. That animal slammed her head against the side of the truck, and then tossed her in back. He’d been punching her. Any one of the injuries I saw could have put her in the hospital, and left unattended for too long, might have killed her. For all I know, she bled out in the back of that truck.”