by Alyssa Kress
Now Matt blinked at the spider-like silhouette of the camera and tripod against the stars. He reached out and tore two copper leaves from their moorings. They were flimsy when flat, but by rolling them into cylinders he could have a decent pair of crutches.
Crutches, however, weren't going to do him a damn bit of good getting up that hill. With a squint and a deft movement of his arm, Matt shot first one and then the other of his copper leaves up toward the tripod. Both landed gently on the flat space behind the metal legs.
So far so good. Now for the hard part.
Rocking his chair, Matt tipped it over so that he fell into the dirt.
Like a sack of potatoes.
It seemed to take forever to drag his half-useless body up the nearly vertical path. Tears of frustration blinded his eyes as his hands grasped boulders, shrubs, whatever they could find to pull himself along.
He'd come close that day on Andy Miller's barn. He'd almost been close enough to touch him. If only Andy could have waited one more cotton-picking second.
Matt winced as he tried to use the weak muscles in his thighs. If those legs weren't going to help him, the least they could do was get the hell out of the way.
He could still remember how Andy had reached up with both arms, reaching for him. Precipitously, before he was in range. And then, off-balance, Andy'd started to tumble. Matt had grabbed for him, missed, and dived, far enough to lose his own balance.
"Ohmigod." Heaving, Matt pulled himself over the top of the outcropping. Quickly fashioning his copper leaves into two stout sticks he managed to approach a wobbly standing position.
The camera and attached electronic equipment were a lot more complicated than they had looked from down below. Matt frowned at the apparatus with renewed despair. There was a counter on the back of the camera.
"Oh, Christ," Matt groaned. The counter read:
:10 :09
~~~
:10 :09
"Go!" Gary hissed. "Into the tunnel. You're right, you have a chance there."
:08 :07
"I'm on the last one!" Kerrin shouted back. "Leave me alone."
:06 :05
"Kerrin, I'm gonna kill you. I swear I'm gonna kill you." Gary sounded perfectly sincere, although neither one of them commented on the absurdity of his threat.
:04 :03
"There!" Kerrin pronounced, triumphant. The lock sprang loose.
Gary lost no time in slipping his hands out of the contraption.
:02
With one powerful movement, he caught Kerrin and got her flat on the floor.
At the same time he threw himself on top of her, shielding her with his body.
:01
~~~
:07 :06
Beneath the counter on the back of the camera was an orange-colored button. Matt could just make out the tiny letters written on it.
:05 :04
It said: RESET.
No. It couldn't be that simple.
:03 :02
But Matt didn't have a choice. Balancing precariously on one crutch, he hit the reset button and shut his eyes tight, prepared for a blast.
:01
~~~
:01
"Gary?"
"Yes, sweetheart?" His weight pressed her down against the hard concrete floor.
"My ears are ringing."
Gary ran a hand over her hair. "Must be because of the hit you took when I knocked you to the ground. Sorry about that, honey."
"Oh." Kerrin struggled to make sense of this. "I thought it was because of the bomb."
The muscles in his torso shook. He was laughing! "A lot of excitement over nothing. That bomb turned out to be a dud."
"You're kidding!" As he relieved her of his weight, she turned onto her back to look up at him.
His smile was broad. "Test it out. We're still here, aren't we?"
"So we are."
He was propped on one elbow, one leg still thrown over hers.
Kerrin thought the man had never looked more dear to her. "Oh, Gary."
He seemed to know exactly what she meant for he took her into his arms and kissed her, soundly, completely, and for good. At the end of the kiss, Kerrin was astounded to discover that she was actually aroused, that at a time like this she physically wanted him.
The same idea must have occurred to Gary. There was an expression of mild astonishment on his face. "Do you know, I think I could make love to you right here and now?"
Somebody gave a delicate cough.
Gary instantly released Kerrin and they both sat up, startled. Down the aisle and sitting in the entrance to the tunnel was Tom Horton. His smile was vaguely embarrassed.
"Ahem. I'd take it as a great personal favor, Gary, if you'd, er, postpone that sentiment." He turned to look back over his shoulder. "You see, we've got company."
Tom hopped out of the tunnel entrance and a line of men in blue jumpsuits poured out of it after him. On the backs of their shirts were white-emblazoned letters spelling out FBI. Victor, his hands cuffed behind his back, was helped out at the end of the line.
"Come on, time for you to put this baby to rest," one of the blue-clad FBI men told Victor, leading him over to the bomb.
Victor, slanting a brief glance toward Gary and Kerrin, gave an indifferent shrug.
"FBI?" Gary queried, clutching Kerrin about the waist. He turned to Tom, who'd come over to stand beside them. "What's going on?"
"Not to worry," Tom assured him. "Friends of mine. I did make a few of those, during my years working on the H-bomb. Mike Rogers," he continued dryly, "wasn't one of them."
Gary almost smiled. "Then who was it who told you the DWP was planning to use me for security work?"
"That was Victor." Tom inclined his head toward the man. "He'd apparently been sneaking information all along about how his father was trying to catch the Holiday Bomber. A convenient way to avoid getting caught. Rogers, meanwhile, was playing a tightrope game between both sides. Tonight it finally caught up with him."
Kerrin turned to regard Victor. Hard to know what created a man like that. At the same time, she couldn't forget how he hadn't wanted to end up hurting anybody. Now he was frowning at his bomb.
"This is strange." Victor's brows knit. "Everything looks fine. It should have gone off ‑‑ Hello." He peered closer toward the LCD. One of the FBI agents checked his movement. "Well, would you look at that? The timer stopped." Victor gave a short, incredulous laugh. "On one second! It's stopped on the very last second." Victor shook his head and looked around to find Tom Horton. "Somebody must have shut off the detonator. It's with my camera at the array."
"The array?" Tom queried.
Gary made a small, choked noise and met Kerrin's eyes.
"Matt," Kerrin said aloud.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Matt didn't know how long he'd been lying there, crumpled at the feet of the tripod, when he woke up enough to hear voices. He thought he heard his father say something and then Gary's voice, low and gravelly. "I'll get him."
Matt still couldn't manage to open his eyes, even as somebody's arms went around his shoulders and thighs to pick him up. It had to be Gary, though. Matt didn't know anybody else strong enough to lift him.
"How ya doin', big guy?"
This was, Matt thought, an idiotic question. What difference did it make how he was? "All right, tell me straight out," he demanded. "How bad is it?"
Gary half-walked, half slid down the hill. His arms clutched his charge securely. "How bad is what?" Gary panted. "You look pretty scratched up and worn out, but otherwise okay."
Matt was able to get one eye open. Smart ass, even now. "The town. How bad was the bomb?"
Gary stared down at him. "Matt, the bomb didn't go off."
"It didn't?" Relief crashed through him. He wouldn't have the whole town on his conscience after all. "Why not?"
Gary's expression turned amused. "Because you stopped it, you idiot."
At that moment Matt's m
other came fluttering up like a frantic bird, and she commenced fussing over him so much that Matt didn't have a chance to question Gary's unbelievable statement. Gary continued down the hill with Matt's mother fussing on one side and his Dad making dry, calming remarks to her on the other. Sliding between the two of them, Gary's voice managed to shove through. "Maybe we can put that cat to rest now, hey, Matt? I think the balance sheet's evened up on that one."
Oh, really? Matt wasn't believing any of this. He'd stopped the bomb?
Inside the house there was more fuss. Kerrin took up where his mother left off and Elaine got in the act, too. With tears streaming down her face, she hugged Matt right over his filthy shirt and then kissed him, on the mouth. It was the first real kiss Matt had ever had of her ‑‑ or of any girl for that matter ‑‑ but he was too exhausted to properly savor the occasion.
"I'll take a rain check on that," Matt mumbled, wishing someone would throw him in a bathtub and then let him sleep for about a dozen hours. Once he had the chance, he ignored everything, including the growing crowd of people and the dirt that seemed embedded in his clothes and skin and hair. He curled up into a ball on the living room sofa and went straight to sleep.
"He'll be out for a while," Gary predicted. He stood beside Tom in a corner of the living room.
"I imagine so. The FBI are going to want to question him when he wakes up, as well as you and Kerrin."
Gary nodded his understanding. It was beginning to dawn on him that Tom Horton wasn't nearly as out there as he often appeared. Camouflage. "If it's all the same to you," he now told Tom, "I'd prefer the regular police take me back into custody. The feds still give me the creeps."
Tom shot him a peculiar glance. "Sure, Gary. Whatever you want."
"We can call Ray Connors." Gary smirked. "Give him the thrill of his life. And, oh yeah. I'd sure like to know how I went from isolation to a trusty assignment."
"Ah, I might have had something to do with that," Tom admitted. "You see, I had suspicions about who was involved, but I didn't know what was going on, or how. You did, so I needed you here." He raised his eyebrows. "Little did I know my own children were getting in on the act."
Gary turned to give Tom a focused stare. "What made you think I'd come back here if I escaped?"
The peculiar expression on Tom's face intensified. "I'm not a vain man, Gary, but right now you're insulting my intelligence." Tom turned his gaze toward Kerrin. "As I recall, you had some unfinished business with my daughter."
As Gary recalled, that unfinished business involved some rather primal physical interaction. He flushed dully as Tom turned and pointedly walked away. At that moment, Kerrin looked up from her position seated by Matt's head on the sofa. Their eyes met and Gary felt a bunch of white doves inside him go flying. Yes, they had unfinished business all right.
"Come on, sweetheart." He pulled her up by the hand. "We've got to talk, and we don't have a whole lot of time."
Kerrin squeezed tightly on his hand. It was like she was squeezing it right around his heart. But that was all right. That was just the way he wanted it now.
Behind the closed door of her bedroom, Gary first took care of the physical portion of their business, swiftly and completely. Sure, the house was full of people, including her parents and several officers of the law, but neither one of them could afford to be picky, and this was necessary. Essential.
Kerrin had stood by him ‑‑ to the end. He still had trouble processing that. Now he needed to join with her. He had to know she was there, so deeply that she would know he was there, too.
Afterward Gary lay on his back atop her lace eyelet cover, one arm cuddling Kerrin close against his chest. He sighed deeply. That had been good, very good, but it hadn't been nearly enough. They weren't yet together. And he wanted together. He wanted all of it. So he began. "I'm going to have to go back to prison, you know."
Kerrin stroked her fingers down his bare chest. "I know."
The white doves clustered tightly just beneath her fingers. "Sweetheart, it's going to be different this time." His hand tightened around her shoulders, nerves and determination wrapping around each other. "That is, if your proposal still holds good," he said, low.
Her hand stilled. "My proposal?"
"You know, the one about getting married."
He'd startled her. She went absolutely still for two full seconds before slipping out of his arm. Rising over his chest, she gazed down at him with a mixture of disbelief and tentative joy. "Do you mean that? You're willing to get married?"
The look on her face ‑‑ Those doves moved up into his throat. "I need you, honey." Boy, it was hard to say those words. Hard, but also, somehow, liberating. "It would make all the difference in the world," he continued, "knowing you were around."
"Oh, Gary." She dropped her head onto his chest and squeezed him tightly. There were tears in her voice. "I am so glad."
Gary tangled one hand in her hair. "I was afraid to need you," he heard himself admit. "But I finally understood something tonight."
"What's that, darling?"
He gave a short laugh. "You aren't going to abandon me."
Kerrin turned her head to look up at him. Her eyes were amber-jade pools of love. "You thought I would?"
Dear, sweet innocent. He caressed the side of her face. Why not? Everyone else always had. "Sometimes I'm a little slow on the up-take, but give me time and I'll figure it out."
Kerrin continued gazing at him. "When you showed up tonight ‑‑ just when I needed you ‑‑ I guess I figured out the same thing."
Their eyes locked.
Gary knew it was going to be all right then, in prison or not. It was going to be okay. And that was before she moved to touch his lips with hers. Gary closed his eyes.
Fireworks, flock of doves, the whole nine yards. Emotion exploded inside of him. His whole life Gary had shied away from wanting too much...from wanting this. But now ‑‑ Now he wanted it. He wanted it so badly his chest ached, but it was a good ache, a healthy one. It was an ache that made him...happy.
He was smiling when he pulled back from the kiss. "Oh, and about those kids." He grinned at Kerrin. "Would it be too much to ask you to hold off on those for a while? I'd sort of like them not to be too old by the time I get out."
Slowly, Kerrin smiled at him. It was a big smile, the biggest he'd ever seen on her face. "Why, Gary, I think you've finally developed the right attitude here."
~~~
The judge yawned and shoved a pair of horn-rimmed glasses over his nose. It was 8 a.m., Monday morning. Gary, in his jailhouse blues and with his hands once again cuffed on the table before him, struggled not to yawn himself. He'd never seen a hearing called so quickly. They'd only taken him into custody late Friday night, then stored him in a Bishop jail over the weekend, and already they were going to rule on the effect of his prison break on his sentence.
It had been terrible going back behind bars, worse than he'd imagined...except for two things: he knew who he was now, and he knew he'd have Kerrin.
Since she wasn't in the room, Gary supposed nobody had bothered to inform the woman who was not yet his wife about this morning's legal proceeding.
"Are we ready to begin?" The middle-aged judge addressed this question to Marty, who sat on the far side of the table. Marty, one arm in a cast and his neck encased in a brace, had made a heroic effort to attend this hearing, flying in by private jet from L.A. The man was obsessed with keeping Gary safely in the joint. The few words he'd had time to address to Gary had been ironic. The car accident had been just that: an accident.
"We can start any time," Marty told the judge.
"Fine." The judge picked up a paper and began reading the latest series of charges against Gary Sullivan. The perpetrator could only wince as the list went on: grand theft auto, credit card fraud, possession of a firearm. It sounded just terrible. They were going to add another five years to his term, minimum. Any dream he'd harbored of throwing toddlers into the air in
some sunny backyard dwindled into a bittersweet background. At least he'd have Kerrin. Gary hung onto that thought like a limpet. If they were together, they'd be fine.
Having finished with the list, the judge looked down at Marty. "What's your recommendation?"
Marty stalled. "Before giving my recommendation I'd like to call a few witnesses, if you don't mind."
"Now, why would I mind?" The judge yawned again. "That's why we're here, aren't we?" He nodded and rubbed his forehead. "Proceed."
"Thank you, your honor." Marty rose from his chair with difficulty. Gary had to restrain himself from getting up to help. The marshal seated by his side probably wouldn't understand.
Marty shuffled through the gate of the low wall and to the back door of the room. He knocked on the door and it banged open. People started filing into the courtroom. Lots of people. Gary knew every single one of them. He'd made a point of it, after all, when he was trying to discover who planned to bomb Freedom.
In front strode Carolina from the coffee shop, followed by Ollie, the former mayor, then Officer Connors and the parents of his students. Still more people crowded into the room.
"What the hell ‑‑ ?" Gary wished he could sink through the floor.
The judge took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and put his glasses back on again. "Mr. Simmons, would you care to explain?"
"Certainly, your honor. Every one of these good people would like to testify that if you were to release Mr. Sullivan on parole today, they would personally welcome him into their community." Marty gave a small cough. "I suppose they feel a measure of gratitude toward the man, seeing as how he saved their town from a destructive explosion."
"That was Matt saved the town," Gary felt he had to speak up. "All I did was nearly get myself killed."
Marty waved him into silence. "I don't believe it's your turn to speak, Mr. Sullivan."
"He's right." The judge scowled at him. "Kindly hold your tongue, sir." He turned back to Marty. "While I appreciate the gesture being made here, I don't see how I can release Mr. Sullivan on parole. According to my papers, he still has twenty years to go on his sentence."
