by Blou Bryant
Whoever answered the phone didn’t want to give them any help at first when they asked how to get there from the corner they were standing at. His answer was, “Look it up,” but Vasca’s name got them the directions they needed. They weren’t that far away and arrived just as the last of the sun’s rays left the night sky.
Hannah pointed at the fuel gauge as they parked out back, it was on empty. “Good timing,” she said. Wyatt looked at it and all he could think of was money, they had nothing left and as far as he could imagine, wouldn’t have any in the future. He felt some trepidation at going into the bar, wondering if the dark world of the gang was his future. No more track and field, no more school, nothing but, well, whatever it was that bike gangs did all day. Hannah looked excited, but Wyatt wasn’t feeling it.
The bouncers stopped the threesome, “No kids allowed.”
“Is Carter on tonight?” asked Wyatt, remembering the name Vasca had used the last time they were in the bar. He was not in the mood to start at the beginning.
“He’s working bar tonight. You can deal with me.”
“Just get him, he’ll want so see us.” Something in his weary, non-argumentative manner made the bouncer pause. The giant locked eyes with him for a moment and then shrugged his tree-trunk-like arms and went inside and came back soon after with the bouncer they’d met two nights before.
The moment he saw them, Carter’s face went white, and he bent over, swept Teri up, and hugged her tightly. “You idiots, get the door,” he said to the other bouncers. Not waiting, he pushed them aside and motioned Wyatt and Hannah through. He followed and then ran past them, through the bar and down the stairs, Teri still in his arms.
Outside the door to Vasca’s room was a familiar face, Rocky! Hannah raced forward and hugged him, “You’re alive!” she said. “I can’t believe it.”
Rocky looked to her and then Wyatt and Teri, still held firm in Carters arms. His mouth hung open and it took him a moment to recover enough to hug Hannah back, a shocked look on his face. Once he recovered, he took Teri from Carter. “Go upstairs, make sure nobody comes down. And watch for anyone making suspicious calls. No, forget that. Take the phones from everyone in the place, and nobody leaves. Understood?”
“Got it, boss.”
Rocky opened the door and ushered the two through, and followed with Teri, who it appeared wouldn’t be allowed to stand on her own anytime soon, given how hard he held her to his chest.
Behind the desk was Sandra and they repeated the scene, this time with tears. Only Wyatt and Teri had dry eyes. Hannah hugged Sandra and then Rocky again.
“I thought you were dead,” Sandra said. “We thought you all were dead.”
Wyatt sat down in the seat he’d used on Saturday. “We thought the same of you.”
“Yes, but we’re not on the news,” answered Rocky. Sandra turned the computer monitor around and did a quick Google search for ‘Chicago Killers’ on CNN, and turned up the volume as a report played.
The video was of the wreckers. A very attractive and very blonde reporter talked about how they were killed in an auto compactor with Johnathan Golde after a failed kidnapping attempt. Golde was made out to be a hero who had pulled them down with him, saving multiple members of his team. His picture lingered on the screen as the reporter extolled his community service and the revolution in public-private partnerships he’d established.
The pictures of Hannah and Wyatt made them appear as if they’d just escaped from prison, captures of images of them at Mennar. The truth was scrubbed from the report; it was mostly fiction. With Golde dead, he wondered out loud if they could tell the truth and return to their normal lives.
“Are you crazy?” asked Sandra, and played another video and then another. All had the same message. Wyatt and Hannah were bad, Golde was good. “Nobody will believe you.”
“But he’s dead,” whispered Wyatt, off-balance and ready to sleep again.
“So?” asked Rocky. “The rich and powerful won’t want people to know that one of their own was this crooked. You think they’ll want to acknowledge that the guy they were doing business with was a murderer?”
“But he’s gone, why protect him?”
“It’s not him they’re saving now, they’re protecting themselves. You’re not a risk to him anymore, but you are to everybody who made money off him, who worked with him, who was friends with him.”
“But…”
“Do you really imagine he’s the only crooked one? The bad apple in the bunch?” asked Sandra. “No, he’s the one you caught out. The rest are the same, some worse, some better, but all the rich and powerful will protect what they have, just the same as he did.”
Hannah looked at him with pity, and he understood he wasn’t getting it. She said, “You’re tired. We’ll figure this out, but you have to know that we need to stay dead.”
“You’re right, I’m tired. I’m talked out. I’m peopled out. I’m beaten and broken.” To Sandra, he said, “Do you have a place we could crash?”
“I’m in charge now, with Vasca gone,” she said, pausing to hold Teri’s hand. “I’m so sorry baby,” she said.
Teri nodded, not signing or speaking. Wyatt imagined that he caught a brief glance in his direction and wondered, was the speaking and the other changes to be a secret, even from Sandra?
“I’ve got space. We have apartments we use for visitors, one for each of you,” Sandra said. A bit of her old self appeared, Wyatt found it strange to see a lecherous smile at the same time as tears in her eyes, “Unless you two only need one room and one bed?”
Hannah grinned, but he didn’t have the energy to joke around. “Two rooms, thanks. He’s slept with me the last two nights. No energy left, let the poor guy get some rest,” she said, earning raucous laughter from everyone except Wyatt, who tried to smile and failed.
Sandra and Rocky took them back to the compound on the back of their bikes, not trusting anyone else with their precious cargo. They assured Hannah that Teri was in good hands with Carter, who followed in a van. This time, they were brought to the second building and given adjoining rooms on the second floor.
Wyatt thanked them and got everyone out of his room as quickly as possible. He set the deadbolt to lock the door and turned on the shower to get the water hot. Naked, he paused and went back to the door, turned the bolt three times and put a chair up against the doorknob. After a considering it, he took two pots from the kitchen and put them on the chair so he’d hear if anyone tried to open the door. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the Dogs, but he wanted to feel safe for the first time in days.
The shower stung, but in a good way. The heat and steam soothed and refreshed him. With the blood and dirt off his body, he eased in-between the sheets and put his head on his pillow. His last thought as he drifted off was of Wilbur’s story about life on the run. All because of a girl.
A faint pulse of electricity coursed through him, and a blue spark flicked between his fingers, but he didn’t notice it. He was already asleep.
The End
September 17, 2015.
Peterborough, Ontario, Canada
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Blou Bryant has worked on military bases in Alberta and Manitoba, in the deep bush of Ontario's north, at Green Gables in Prince Edward Island and at the Fortress of Louisbourg in Cape Breton. His career has taken him, his wife and their many animals across Canada, both of them writing all the while.
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