by Jamie Bowers
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Too scared to open his eyes, Joe could hear the sound of running water. He could feel it running across his neck and over his face as well as the distinct sound of it draining away. Slowly, he opened his eyes to see only white and the water dripping from his face. Lying on his front, Joe quickly reached his hand to his chest; there was nothing there, no bullet wound, no blood, he couldn’t even feel any scars. Opening his eyes wider he looked around and realised he was lying in the shower with the water still running. If Richards really had come and shot him he would be fighting for his life now, or worse. Joe slowly pushed himself up to his knees, reached forward and turned off the shower. His head was hurting, either a result of the fall or the cancer was eating away more of his already confused mind. Carefully, he got to his feet and stepped out of the bath onto the cold tiled floor. Wrapping a towel around his waist he used another to dry his head and hair. He wiped his hand across the mirror to clear the condensation and could see a cut across his brow above his right eye, a result of the fall in the bath. Still feeling slightly lightheaded, Joe dabbed the wound with the towel and steadied himself with his other hand on the sink.
‘Get a grip,’ he said to his reflection, ‘This is not a good time to let it get the better of you.’ Drying the rest of his body, Joe put on his clothes and tossed the towels in the laundry basket behind the bathroom door.
Just as Joe was about to walk out of the bathroom he heard the front door to the house slam shut. Footsteps quickly climbed the stairs and stopped outside the bathroom door. Joe rummaged around to see what he could take as a possible weapon. The only object he found of any use wash a toilet brush in a stand beside the toilet. Joe picked it up, opened the bathroom door and screamed as he ran.
‘Joe!’ Francis screamed in fear as Joe went to hit her. Joe stopped suddenly and froze a few inches away. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ asked Francis with a quiver in her voice, ‘What’s happened to your face?’ Joe slowly lowered his hand.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said breathing heavily, ‘I thought you were someone else.’ Francis stepped forward, brushed Joe’s hair away from the cut on his brow.
‘Why do you think someone else would be here?’ she asked, ‘I wouldn’t let anyone know you’re here.’ Joe looked down at the toilet brush in his hand. ‘What do you expect to do with that? Now come downstairs and I’ll patch you up.’
Francis took the brush from Joe’s hand and put it back in its place in the bathroom. With Francis’ help, Joe walked down the stairs and they both sat on the sofa. Francis took out her medical box from underneath the table and started to tend to the cut on Joe’s face.
‘Are you going to tell me what happened?’ she asked, ‘Or are you just going to tell me that you had a disagreement with a door?’ Joe dismissed the question.
‘It’s nothing,’ he said, ‘I tried to get out of the shower too quickly, that’s all. I guess my leg’s not as good as I thought.’ Francis finished seeing to Joe’s cut and slid the box back underneath the coffee table.
‘I want you to get better, Joe,’ she said, ‘but I don’t know how long…’
‘Stop,’ Joe interrupted, placing his hand on her knee, ‘I don’t want you to think like that, so don’t even say it.’ Francis put her hand over Joe’s and tried to change the subject.
‘Do you know where I went today?’ she asked, ‘I went to see my friend at the courthouse. I did my best and found out as much as I could.’ Joe shook his head.
‘I told you not to do anything that could get you into trouble,’ he said, ‘if anyone found out.’
‘They won’t,’ Francis interrupted, ‘I was careful.’ Joe let out an exhale of air in disappointment.
‘I suppose you know more about my life than I do?’ he said, ‘Well, what did you find out?’ Francis stood up and walked over to her coat, hanging on the stand in the by the front door.
‘I wrote down as much as I could,’ she said taking a small notebook from the coat pocket, ‘I had to be quick before anyone spotted me in there.’ She sat down next to Joe on the sofa and turned over the first page, referring to it for reference. ‘It said that you were not able to take the stand as you were deemed unfit due to illness. There didn’t seem to be many people who spoke and it was probably over quickly. I made a note of the names,’ she turned the page and read each name.
‘Gordon Andrews, he was the person who heard the gunshots and phoned the police. James Last, the first police officer on the scene and the coroner who determined the death.’ Joe looked confused as she read the names.
‘Can they do that?’ he asked, ‘Are they allowed to give me a trial if I am not well enough to defend myself?’ Francis turned to the next page of the notepad.
‘Well, the lawyer who was defending you didn’t seem to ask any of the people who took the stand any questions. He claimed that he was unable to prepare for the case as he could not speak to you in your condition.’ Joe sat forward and rubbed his hands across the back of his neck in disbelief.
‘Is there anything else?’ he asked. Francis placed the notebook on the table.
‘Only that they were unable to identify who the bodies were but there was enough evidence to determine it was your wife and daughter.’ Joe picked up the notebook and flicked through the pages, reading what Francis had already told him.
‘I can’t believe I don’t remember any of this, nothing before or during,’ he said.
‘This could be due to the cancer,’ she said, placing her arm around his shoulders for comfort, ‘The trial was only a couple of days after you were arrested and if you had a bad turn, it may have taken you a while to recover.’
‘I just don’t understand,’ said Joe as he rubbed his brow to try and understand, ‘I just can’t understand.’ Francis stood up and walked behind the sofa to a small table. She slid the drawer open and took something out. Walking back around to Joe, she placed his gun on the table.
‘You’ll need this if you want to get your answers.’ Joe stared at the nickel-plated gun in front of him. Although he had seen it before he was shocked that he was being presented with it once more. He slowly placed his hand over the handle and slid the gun off the table to rest in his palm.
‘You know what this means, don’t you?’ he said as he looked down at his reflection in the barrel.
‘Yes, I do,’ said Francis as she sat back down next to Joe, ‘So, when do you plan on doing this?’ she asked. Joe stood up and slipped the gun into his front pocket.
‘The sooner the better,’ Joe replied. Joe walked to the bottom of the stairs and placed his left hand on end of the handrail.
‘Tomorrow,’ he said as looked up towards his room, ‘I am going to get my family back tomorrow.’ Francis remained standing by the sofa, watching Joe as his gaze was fixed on nothing specific.
‘If you do this, I can’t help you anymore,’ she said, ‘you are alone when you go there and I won’t be able to see you again.’ Joe took the first few steps and stopped, turning his head he looked at Francis’ silhouette in the light from the fire.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘but we both know this has to end someday.’ He continued to walk up the stairs, all the while feeling the constant glare of Francis as she watched him disappear out of view.
‘Wait, Joe.’ Francis shouted as Joe reached the landing. She ran into the hallway and stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Don’t you want me to go to your brother’s?’ she asked, ‘Or even go back to the warehouse and see if there is another way to get them out without anybody else getting hurt?’ Joe placed both hands on the rail and leant forward.
‘The longer I leave it, the less chance I have of ever getting them back,’ he said, ‘I am going to do what I have to. If there is anyone who chooses to get in my way that is their decision. There are two sides in this and if they aren’t on the same side as me I will give them their destiny.’ Francis looked at the determination in Joe’s eyes and could see that nothing was
going to change his mind.
‘Is this the final goodbye?’ she asked.
‘All being well, yes.’ said Joe with caution in his voice.
‘And what if it doesn’t go well? What then?’ Joe turned and stepped towards his bedroom door. Placing his hand on the handle he paused
‘There is no other option,’ he said. Joe entered his bedroom and closed the door behind him without anything more being said.
In the darkness of his room, Joe felt the cold air blowing in through the open window, waving the curtains in the air. He turned on the light and took off his clothes, draping them over the end of the bed. Stripping down to his underpants, Joe lay on the floor and started doing sit-ups, pushing past any pain he had in his body. After he counted to fifty, he turned himself onto his front and started press-ups, straining his arms and shoulders he could feel his muscles working like they had never been used. Several hours into the night and Joe wanted to push his body harder, doing more sit-ups and push-ups were not enough to get him to feel the strength he needed. He stood up and stepped over to a small chair that sat in the corner of the room. Moving it away from the wall, Joe placed his hands and head on the ground and lifted his body and legs up to the wall. With every muscle he could use, Joe pushed himself off the floor with his hands, locking his elbows into place. Sweat dripping down his body onto the hardwood floor, he lowered himself slowly, stopping before his head touched the floor. Pushing himself up and lowering back down, Joe did it several times until he couldn’t take anymore. His arms trembled under the pressure and his body dropped to the floor with an almighty thud. Joe slowly pushed himself up to his feet and stumbled over to the bed. He sat on the end as he regained his breath and heard his own heartbeat pumping through his eardrums.
Eventually, Joe managed to calm his body down enough and he slid himself up the bed to the pillows. Without moving the covers, he lay his head down gently and closed his eyes, all the time trying to visualise the day ahead.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Awoken by the sunlight piercing through a gap in the curtains, Joe lifted his hand and rubbed his eyes. He pressed his hands onto the bed and sat himself up slowly, groaning slightly as his muscles woke up. Joe stepped onto the hardwood floor, stretched out his toes and grabbed a variety of clothes from the bags that Francis had brought for him. Still in his underwear he went to the bathroom and turned the shower on, placed the clothes neatly onto the toilet before slipping out of the white underpants and kicking them along the floor to the corner of the room. Joe looked at his reflection in the mirror, his body looked healthier than before but still a shadow of what he was previously accustomed. He turned his body around, looking at the bruises to his torso which had now mostly disappeared, the only ones that remained were a pale yellow, almost unnoticeable to anyone. Staring down past the healed bruises and scarred skin, Joe looked down at the large scab that covered what was once a hole in his leg. Rubbing his hand over the dried blood and red skin he realised that it no longer caused him any pain to touch and the bone was stronger than before, not fully healed but enough for him to move about as long as he didn’t make any sharp movements.
Pulling back the shower curtain, he stepped under the water jet and felt the instant relaxation on his skin. Rubbing the soap across his body and legs to remove the sweat Joe felt better and ready for the important day ahead. After thoroughly washing himself, Joe stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist and used another to wipe the condensation from the mirror. Looking at the unshaven man that stared back, Joe picked up a razor that Francis had got from the shop along with a shaving brush and foam. He carefully shaved off several weeks of facial hair, feeling like a new man, the man he remembered he was before his life changing story began. Still with the towel wrapped around his waist, Joe left the bathroom and went into the bedroom where he got dressed into a comfortable pair of black jeans, a red t-shirt and a brown jacket. He took the gun from the clothes on the bed and checked the cylinder, still six bullets waiting to be used. He snapped the cylinder shut and slid the revolver down the back of his waistband, hiding the handle with his jacket.
After putting his shoes on, Joe went downstairs to the living room. He picked up a pen and a piece of paper from the drawing table. Pressing the nib of the pen against the paper he froze, not knowing what to write. ‘What if her house is searched and they find a note from me?’ he thought to himself. ‘But I can’t leave without saying anything.’ He glanced out of the window to see a young girl playing in the park across the street with her father. They were flying a kite and laughing between themselves. Joe started to write on the paper and quickly left the note on the coffee table with the words “Your Uncle would be proud of you.” Joe placed the pen back on the table and walked towards the front door. Turning the handle he took one last look across the hallway, knowing that he would never see it again.
Once outside the door, Joe felt fully exposed and was suddenly aware that anything unexpected could happen. He turned the collar up on his jacket and pressed his chin firmly against his chest to try and hide his face He walked down the steps and quickly followed the pavement to the end of the street. Joe stopped at the intersection and looked at the street signs to understand where he needed to go. He followed the streets and took several turns before he eventually walked along the bridge and across the river to the docks.
Joe walked slowly along the road that led into the dock area, looking out from the corner of his eye for a way to get in. A large fence and gate with two security guards stopped any unauthorised persons from entering so he knew this wasn’t going to be as simple as just walking in. He stopped far enough away as to not draw any unwanted attention and watched as vehicles and men were being stopped. As he looked up at the fence and the razor wire that topped it off, a pickup truck stopped by the side of the road, just a few feet away, half a dozen men in overalls jumped off the truck, grabbed a set of overalls each from the back and slipped them on over their clothes. The driver remained in the truck but shouted orders out of the window.
‘Remember, the name on your overall is your name for the day.’ He bellowed. ‘Go in through the gate and down to number 234. Just follow the road through for about ten minutes and you’ll find it. Ask for Greg and he will give each of you $10 for a good days work.’ Joe figured out instantly that this was an exploitation of illegal immigrants and a way for the man to make some easy money. As the men all got dressed Joe casually walked over to the truck and grabbed one of the sets of overalls. Putting them over his clothes he fastened the buttons and followed the other men to the security gate. None of the men spoke to one another; Joe figured this may be because none of them speak the same language. The truck quickly drove off in a cloud of smoke being fired out of the rattling exhaust. One-by-one the men walked single file through the gate, the guards watched them with intent but didn’t try to engage in conversation.
Joe was the last to walk through the gate. As he walked past, one of the guards lifted his hand and placed it across Joe’s chest.
‘Where are you guys going?’ he asked. Joe froze and just stared at the guard as he waited for an answer.
‘Do you speak English?’ the guard asked. Joe stayed silent. The other men were already getting further away. ‘Where are you going?’ the guard demanded.
‘234.’ Joe muttered, looking down at the floor.
‘Oh, you do understand me. Wait a minute, if you speak English so well, then why the fuck are you with these fucking stowaways?’
‘I need the money. I have a family to feed.’ Joe said, still looking down at his feet, hoping that the guard doesn’t notice the new shoes that were not made for manual labour.
‘I suppose everyone has to eat.’ Said the guard, stepping out of the way. ‘Now get on with it before your boss refuses to pay you.’
Still fixing his gaze on the ground, Joe walked as quickly as he could to catch up with the other men, trying not to let his weak leg show. He followed them around a corner an
d out of view from the guards where he stopped and took off the overalls. The docks were much bigger than he imagined and Joe wasn’t familiar with the layout, he needed to find the best place to watch the warehouse from without being spotted.
Walking carefully between each building Joe found the warehouse he was looking for. From a distance he could see that there were at least two men outside guarding the entrance and another on the roof. They didn’t appear to be armed but Joe knew that they wouldn’t be walking around without a weapon. He sat on the floor behind a small pile of wooden shipping boxes, watching the men as they patrolled the building’s exterior, trying to get an idea of their patterns and blind spots. A large fence surrounded the buildings side, stopping anyone from entering without first being vetted. Two of the other sides were only accessible by water which would leave Joe in the open and the back of the warehouse was overshadowed by another building, at least twenty feet taller. After several hours, Joe remained in the same place as nothing seemed to be stopping the guards from watching every angle.
The sun started to set and Joe saw a single light turn on in a high window, possibly an office on the upper floor that he needed to get to. Joe’s attention was turned by the sound of a car getting closer, slowly coming around the corner from behind him. He slipped his body in between the boxes and watched as the car went past. First the headlight beams followed by the car being driven by Tom with Gordy sitting in the back, smoking a cigarette. This was the proof he needed that he was in the right place. As the car edged past slowly, Joe raised his head over the boxes to see the car stop outside the gate for a moment whilst a guard opened it. Tom pulled the car through the gate and into the entrance to the warehouse, the door quickly closing behind him.
Joe tried to see what was happening but the low light was not being helped by the lights on the dock that only illuminated the area below them. From what he could see, the men remained in their positions all the while. Keeping close to the wall and out of the light, Joe carefully walked towards the gate to get a closer look. He stopped a few feet from the fence, staying out of view in the shadows. Joe could hear the two men behind the gate talking.
