by John L. Monk
Jack took the gun and stared at it, sensing a trap. “I can keep it?”
“Sure, to defend yourself. If Eddie tries anything again, you need to shoot him.” He shook his head. “House full of food, huh? I sure hope it ain’t a pack of lies. Where’s this place at, anyway?”
This was the part in the plan that worried him—that he’d be forced to provide a location for something that didn’t exist.
Back at the cabins, the idea had seemed so simple. Show up, say Carter had a bunch of great stuff, then sit back and watch the show. Except now there was a problem—the plan had been based on the belief that Blaze was a homicidal maniac. The Pyros’ leader was aggressive, sure, but nothing in his manner struck Jack as insane. He didn’t seem dumb, either. Jack’s cabbage-based theory of society had taken a serious beating.
“I have more proof if you want it—more food and stuff,” he said. “But the house has a couple of kids in it, and they shoot at anyone who comes near. The food’s in the basement.”
“The basement,” Blaze said flatly.
Jack nodded. “Yeah. The leader’s a guy named Carter, and he wears the key around his neck. A friend of mine picked the lock and snuck in a few days ago. When I was loading up the car, Carter shot and killed him. I barely got away. I can show you the car tomorrow, but I’m not going near that house without an army. The car’s still got the food in it and a bunch of bullet holes, too.”
Blaze’s eyes grew hard in the moonlight through the windows. “And this is all true?”
“Yep. I meant to tell you that earlier, but then your sister—”
“Don’t talk about my sister,” he said and stood up. His voice took on a dangerous huskiness. “Just so you know, you don’t ever want to lie to me. So if you’re lying, maybe you need to get out of here before morning. That’s all I’m saying. If you’re still here, we’re gonna go look at this car of yours. And it better be something, man, that’s all I can say.”
With that, he stalked from the room.
For the next few minutes, Jack considered the older boy’s offer: get out now and save himself. He’d even let him keep his gun.
In the end, Jack rejected the idea. It could be a test. There could be people outside waiting to shoot him down if he tried.
More and more, he regretted his decision to come here. It wasn’t so much that the operation was likely to fail, but rather that it might actually work.
Back at the farm, it seemed like the kind of plan Churchill might love because it pitted two aggressive powers against each other. Even if one side didn’t annihilate the other, Carter and his gang would be far more worried about Blaze than Jack’s little group. And Blaze would forever dream about the mythical house filled with food—like El Dorado to the Conquistadors. The problem was there were real people involved here. Kids like Tom and Joey. And Amber. Heck, even Blaze seemed sort of human, up close. Less like a maniac, more like someone in need of a few years of community service. The redheaded leader was stuck with his sick sister and guys like Eddie constantly pushing him. Jack could empathize, having felt the same sort of pressure from Tony, Pete, and now Miguel.
For now, he decided to stick with the plan. At the end of the day, his own people came first, and his conscience second. With luck, Carter’d be killed with little or no collateral damage, and the Dragsters maybe changed into something better.
Before nodding off, his eyes snapped open with a jolt and he looked over at the door. The two drawers he’d stacked had scooted a few feet and not scattered from Blaze walking in—as if he’d slowly pushed open the door. After that, Blaze had sat down quietly on the bed so as not to wake him. He could have been sitting there for two seconds or twenty minutes.
Sleep was a while in coming. And despite how incredibly unsafe it was, Jack made sure his gun was chambered, and he slept with it under his pillow.
30
Jack stumbled from bed in terror at the sound of a machine gun blasting away outside. He ran to the window and saw Blaze standing in the back yard spraying rounds from an M4 carbine—the same one he’d carried that day back at Jack’s old neighborhood. Wood chips flew everywhere with each short burst. Moments later he ejected the magazine, loaded another, and the shower of chips resumed. He switched magazines several more times while Jack watched in fascination. Soon, the table cracked and fell in two pieces.
With the target now dead, Blaze fired the remainder of the ammo into the air, picked up his spent magazines, and started back to the house. He glanced up and saw Jack in the window, nodded in greeting, and went inside.
When Jack turned around, Amber was standing in the door eyeing the stack of wooden drawers on the ground with a wry grin.
“He sure loves that gun,” she said.
Jack nodded. “Where did he get it?”
“The CIA.”
That was odd. “He drove all the way to Langley?”
She looked at him funny. “What the heck’s a Langley?”
“It’s a where, not a what. You don’t know where Langley is?”
Her expression grew angry. “You didn’t know there was a CIA building around here, did you? So don’t act all smart.”
She’s got you there.
“Sorry.”
“Yeah, I guess,” she said and tugged a few stray hairs away from her face. “Sorry I called you a fag. I totally know you’re not one. I was just angry.”
He wanted to ask her why she kept using that word. But the day was young, she wasn’t yelling at him anymore, and he wanted to keep it that way.
“So, what’s up?” he said.
“Seeing if you wanted breakfast.”
Jack smiled at the enticing prospect. If Blaze could tote around military weaponry, who knew what sort of table he set?
No smells of bacon and eggs carried to him as he followed Amber downstairs. And the sight that greeted him as he entered the dining room was both strange and disheartening. Strange because Blaze was sitting with his feet on the table messing with his M4, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. Disheartening because breakfast was none other than the junk food Jack had brought with him the day before.
“Go ahead, man,” Blaze said, nodding at it. “I already ate.”
“Sure … uh, thanks.”
Jack scooted a package of cookies out of the way and snagged a can of baked beans. He looked around for a can opener.
“Want me to shoot it open?” Blaze said and shifted his grip on the rifle.
Jack flinched and Blaze laughed. Then, despite how crazy it was for someone to joke around with a gun, Jack laughed too. Briefly, they seemed like a couple of friends having fun and not people who’d chosen to kill.
In that moment, he knew he couldn’t march him or anyone else into a confrontation with Carter, not based on a lie. It may have made military sense, but it wasn’t right. The question was: how to do the right thing without getting his head blown off?
Blaze said, “I finally figured out where I know you from. You’re gonna laugh when you see this.”
Sudden terror seized him. “How? I mean, what do you mean?”
“See for yourself.” He picked something off the chair next to him, winked at Amber, and then handed it to him. It was a photograph of Jack and his parents. They’d taken it last year on their last trip to the mountains. He had a smaller version back at his cabin.
Jack tensed up and instinctively raised back his can of beans.
“Hah! Oh my God, look at you,” Blaze said, laughing and clutching his stomach. Amber was laughing, too. “Man, I ain’t gonna do nothing. Only reason I took it is because of that trick you pulled. Drilling through all those roofs to get out? Totally awesome. I said to myself, I ever find this guy, he’s joining my gang.” He pointed at him. “And here you are. It’s fate, that’s what it is.”
“Total karma,” Amber said, nodding her head.
Jack took a few breaths—beans still raised for battle—before deciding maybe he wouldn’t be held against the wall and execute
d. Then he smiled weakly, still not entirely convinced.
“Yeah, well,” he said, “you were sort of scary. Told me to come out or you’d kill me.”
Blaze looked offended. “I never said that. We don’t do that kind of thing. We were just gonna rob you, that’s all. Tell you to join up or get going, like we do everyone. That’s the rules.”
“You burned my house down.”
He shook his head. “Not me—that was Alice. She likes burning stuff.” He indicated the space around him. “This is the third place we’ve stayed after leaving the school. She burned all the others.”
“So why do they call you Blaze? Shouldn’t that be her?”
Amber laughed. “His real name’s Shane. Alice started the whole Blaze thing. She tried calling herself Dragon for a while, but nobody else did, so she stopped.”
Jack felt a rogue smile creeping across his face at the image of the tough boy’s sister giving him a nickname. He was about to ask about his sword, then held off at the last second. For whatever reason, Blaze was doing his best to show what a normal, rational human he was. Mentioning the sword would let him know Jack had seen him execute that kid in the street that night.
“Do you still want me to call you Blaze? Or do you like Shane?”
“Nah, I hate Shane. Know what? You should get a nickname.”
Amber suggested a nickname using her favorite word, then said she was just kidding. Blaze and her joked back and forth for a while, each coming up with increasingly insulting nicknames, making Jack blush and feel weirdly included at the same time.
Then Alice walked in.
“Morning everyone,” she said, smiling wide for all to see. Gone was the scowling, scratching, spitting horror from the night before. In its place was someone so happy it was frightening. “Oh, look at all the snacks! I’m gonna try each one!”
She sat down and started scooping up the various packages and putting them in front of her.
Blaze’s voice became artificially soft and friendly. “Jeez, Alice, those are my favorites.”
“Hah!” she said triumphantly and opened a package of cookies. She took a big bite and giggled around a mouthful of oatmeal raisin.
Amber, for her part, looked like she could barely contain her disgust, her face almost insultingly neutral through the exchange. A minute later, she stood up and said, “I’ll find you a can opener, Jack.”
“Thanks,” he said.
After breakfast, Amber disappeared. Blaze led Alice off somewhere for about ten minutes, then returned alone.
“She’s doing good this morning,” he said, sitting back down. “But anything can set her off. So long as she gets her way—thinks everyone loves her—she’s fine.”
Jack nodded agreeably. “When do you want to see the stuff?”
“I would say we go now, but I have to meet someone at the airport about taking more little kids. We’ll go when I get back.”
Jack blinked in confusion, thinking he’d misheard him. “Uh, what kids? What do you mean the airport?”
“There’s a group living at the airport,” he said, then laughed. “They don’t fly planes or nothing. They just live there. They’re taking in all the brats around here—from everywhere, I think. I say, why not? Someone’s got to, and I sure as hell ain’t.” He shrugged. “They also give us cool stuff sometimes. One time was a box of tasers.” He lowered his voice. “There’s other groups out there you don’t wanna know about, trust me.”
Jack couldn’t believe it. All this time, he’d thought Blaze was a brute who got off on stealing and killing. Now he’d learned he also helped children. Well, sure, there was an exchange going on, but Jack sensed a layer of concern under the surface.
An hour later and Blaze was gone, leaving Jack to roam the grounds. There wasn’t much to see.
Feeling bored, wondering how his friends were doing—Greg, specifically—he sat down on the couch in the living room and picked through Blaze’s extensive DVD collection. Then he watched a movie.
Late that afternoon, after Jack had watched several R-rated movies his parents would have disapproved of, Blaze returned.
“You ready?” he said.
“Sure,” Jack said, hitting pause on the remote and trying to stay calm in the face of his looming deception. He’d spent the entire day feeling like a condemned man.
“I’ll grab Eddie and the guys. We’ll take the Humvee.”
Jack had seen the vehicle during a walk outside. Big, yellow, and gas guzzling. He couldn’t imagine anyone wanting one unless they had access to a refinery or something.
When Eddie appeared, he laughed at Jack’s wary expression. “Hey man, no hard feelings. I can be a real asshole sometimes. We cool?” He held out his hand.
Jack took it, expecting a trap, then blinked in surprise when Eddie didn’t squeeze it to death or try to throw him. His apology seemed genuine.
“Sure,” Jack said. “We’re cool.”
Eddie smiled broadly and clapped him on the shoulder, then got in the back with two other boys, both armed. The three of them were quiet, content to let Blaze fill up the space talking about the various sports cars and weapons he wanted to get one day. And poisonous snakes. He was convinced they could find cobras and Gaboon vipers still alive at the National Zoo.
“Snakes only need to eat like twice a year,” he said. “The zookeepers probably would have fed them before going home to die, right?”
“What about the cold?” Jack said, trying to talk him out of the horrible idea. “Don’t they live in tropical forests?”
From the back, Eddie said, “He’s got you there, Shane.”
The two other Pyros laughed as if on cue.
Blaze cast an irritated glance back. “I’ll get something from the zoo, dammit. Can’t everything be dead in there. Maybe one of them big turtles.”
After that, they traveled in relative silence, broken once for directions from Jack to take 66. Despite there being no traffic at all, it felt weird and a little scary when he said to drive in the opposite lane.
Upon reaching the exit with his car, Jack said, “It’s up on the ramp.”
“At the roadblock?” Blaze said, frowning.
“I hid the car there. See that blue one?”
They pulled up behind Jack’s car and everyone got out.
Eddie looked inside. “I don’t see nothing.”
“It’s in the trunk,” Jack said. “Hold on.”
He crawled underneath the car and searched around in the fading light, grabbed the keys, then crawled out and popped the trunk. Smiling in relief at the delicious sight before him, he felt convinced it would soften the reveal to come. It was a good thing Blaze didn’t have his M4 with him. He did have a sidearm, though—a big one.
Blaze stepped around the front of the car to relieve himself. When he finished, Jack approached from behind and said, “Sorry to bug you while you’re …”
Blaze glanced back and snorted. “What’s up?”
“Can we talk a minute?”
“Why not?”
Jack walked past him. “Just up here.”
Blaze followed along, a bemused smile on his face. When they were out of earshot, Jack said, “I can get you more food than you’ll ever eat, but …”
“But what?”
“It’s all corn grain, and some beef. Not cookies and cakes and canned food like I brought with me.” He nodded back at the car. “You can have all of that. But you gotta listen to me and stay calm, okay? I’m only telling you because you’re—”
“Because I’m what?” he said, a steely hardness edging into his voice.
Jack was about to say how Blaze wasn’t the drooling maniac he’d assumed, and how he didn’t want people like Tom and Joey and Amber—or Blaze and his sister—getting hurt. He didn’t actually like the big leader, or Eddie or the others, but decided that shouldn’t matter. Also, Blaze was helping out the children in Centreville. That had to count for something.
“You seem cool,” Jack said
at last.
In the end, he opted for simple honesty: he told him everything. The whole plan. All of it.
By the end, Blaze was shaking his head in quiet fury. “You lied to me? I told you not to lie—what would happen. Everyone expects—”
“Food, right? Well, I have that. But I need your help against Carter. He and his gang killed two of my friends and attacked another friend’s farm. If we work together, we can get rid of him, split them up, and then see about building something lasting. Be honest: how long do you think you can live off cookies and cake?”
After the initial shock, Blaze seemed to have calmed down somewhat. He looked back once at Eddie and the two others, all of whom were watching them.
“All right,” he said. “Don’t say anything to anyone. I’ll handle it when we get back. I need to make some changes. You lied to me once, so I shouldn’t believe you, but for some reason I do. I mean … the stuff you brought came from somewhere. Actually, where did you get it?”
“For the last couple months,” Jack said, “my group’s been out scrounging, just like yours. We only eat the healthy stuff. There’s no doctors or dentists anymore.”
Blaze snorted. “You sound like a bunch of adults or something.”
“That’s sort of the point.”
“All right,” he said, shaking his head. “Let’s head back. Remember: not a word.”
As they approached Eddie and the other two, Jack noticed several things at once: the trunk was closed, each boy clutched a pistol, and Eddie wore a vicious smile on his face.
Blaze began to say something, then Eddie raised his pistol and shot him in the chest and head. Jack flinched and covered himself automatically, then remembered he had a gun and grabbed for it.
“Don’t make me shoot you,” Eddie said, aiming at him. He had a mean smile on his face and his eyes sparkled with glee. “If you’re cool, you live. Got it?”
Jack glanced down at Blaze while they disarmed him, mourning what was and what could have been.
