by Alexie Aaron
"Pretty routine. I think you made some friends amongst the deputies. They like Buslowski, and when they learned how you saved him, well, let's say you’re on the hero list."
"I'm not used to being on that list, more like the shit list. Oh, sorry, father."
"It's okay, I've been there myself."
"Hey, you guys helped. You're my heroes!" I put my arms around Father David and gave him a big kiss. And then I hugged Harry who was appalled.
"Watch her, Father, she has a thing for priests," Harry chided.
"So, are we finished? All that's left is rounding up the landscapers, right?" I said as I got in the car. Funny no one said “right” back.
"Harry?"
"You tell her, I can't bear to," Harry said faintly.
"Cin, I'm afraid that little explosion was just a distraction. After we left the airport, Father Thomas arrived to see several pickup trucks leave with cargos that were suspicious in nature. He lost them up near the fish camp area that Luke and Harry talked about."
"So, we're not finished. I should have known."
"Why?"
"Because I only ruined one pair of shoes," I said and sunk back into the seat.
Father David looked at Harry who just said, "Don't ask."
~
I took a shower first, then a hot steamy bubble bath. Not wanting to deal with the world, I locked the door and left my phones in the den. Periodically, I submerged myself under the bubbles so I could only hear my heart beating. My hair swirled around my face, and I imagined myself a mermaid in a bubbly sea. I stayed under the water until my lungs were bursting, and then I only stayed above long enough to replenish my air supply. I vaguely heard the sounds of doors opening and closing. I knew that I would have to leave my womb soon and attend the Marx brothers’ council of war.
I pulled on some sweats and didn't even try with my hair. After I had decrittered it and washed it four times, it really wasn't up to glamour and neither was I. My eyes were bloodshot from the repeated immersions so I used some drops. Man, did they sting! Then I questioned the product description and shook my head as I read soothing.
I expected the four priests and Harry. I didn't expect Michael, Betty and Buslowski. I worried that Aunt Diane was lurking somewhere, but she had other business to see to.
I ignored the room full of people and headed to the kitchen to make myself a large mug of tea. Let them figure things out. I was tired and wanted out.
"You coming out?" Buslowski's voice asked from the doorway.
"Nope. They let you out?" I looked him over. “You should be in bed.”
"You don’t look so hot either. They let me out, and I didn't want to go home."
"Of course not, you’ve a lawn to cut." I smiled weakly. "Dave, I'm sorry I got you blown up."
"I got myself blown up, you just suggested it."
"Gee, now I feel better." I stuck my head in the pantry and was rewarded with some oatmeal cookies - store bought but still comfort food. "Ya wanna cookie?"
"Naw, I'll pass." He turned to leave.
"Buslowski."
"Yeah?"
"Talk them out of continuing. Get them to turn it over to you professionals."
"They’re professionals. All except for Betty and Harry, and I think they can hold their own."
"Whoa, big feller, when did you cross the street?" I said as I hauled my sore body up on a bar stool and proceeded to dunk my cookie in my tea.
"Truth is we don't have a lot of options here. The administration never came up with the money we needed to protect this area. Homeland Security around here basically rounds up individuals and ships them to the island. The FBI is more concerned with what they missed than what they’re missing. The Sheriff's Department hasn't enough men to keep you out of trouble, let alone hunt for suspects."
"So, you’re not here officially?" I looked at him sideways.
"I'm on sick leave."
"Oh, the wife's going to love this."
"She's not too pleased, so I took you up on your offer."
"What offer?" I asked suspiciously.
"I moved into Alex's room."
I dropped my cookie and barely fished it out before it became mush. "K, just don't stay as long as Harry. Or better yet, when you go, take Harry with you."
"One more thing."
"You want to use my car?"
"Just till the insurance company comes through."
"Tell you what. You can use Harry's jeep, and Harry can use my car because if you were to wreck it I couldn't kill you like I can Harry."
"Fair enough. You’re still not coming?" He nodded towards the living room.
"Nope, you can loan me your notes after class. I'm taking my cookies outside." I got up and headed for the patio. Out on the pool deck I could still hear their voices so I left the screened-in enclosure and plopped myself in the hammock under the Queen Palm trees. I must have fallen asleep because one minute it was sunny and the next the sun was setting. I heard a click drag, click drag, which warned me of the approach of Michael on crutches.
"What time is it?" I said, trying to right myself. I tend to fall out of hammocks, something I didn't want to do in front of Michael.
"Eight. Betty and Harry are whipping up a feast and want to know if you’re going to join us,” he said looking down at me with concern.
"Is everyone still here?"
"Mostly. I think we are two priests minus a full deck. Father David and Thomas have called it a night. You want to talk about it?"
"Talk about what?"
"Your absence in there."
"I can't do it anymore, especially after today. Dragging Dave out of the truck reminded me of all the death that seems to hang around me."
"But Dave's alive and well."
"Dwayne isn't."
"That's not your fault."
"Isn't it? Come on, we get close to these guys and they kill and run. Who's next, Harry, Betty, you?" I said with my eyes tearing up. "We’re dealing with evil here. They don't think rationally. There’s no pattern, no limits to what they can do. I don't have enough faith to go against these demons."
"They're human, not demons. They have agendas, and they can be stopped."
"You have to kill them to stop them. Death is a regular visitor when I'm around: Sherborn, Ivana, Maurice and now Dwayne."
"So, you're bowing out."
"Retiring. I’ll play innkeeper until Dave gets his life together and you can meet here, but I’m hanging up my knives. Oh, and you can have this back." I pulled out the wand/knife necklace. "I've realized that knives cut both ways."
He looked sad. "Is this because of what I asked you yesterday?"
"Was it just yesterday? It seems ages ago. No, Michael, it isn't that, but I’m treading water at the edge of a whirlpool. I need to get out of the water before I’m lost forever. I enjoyed sticking those little knives in Sherborn. I can feel the evil in me when I go commando. It isn't who I want to be. It isn't who I am."
"I guess I can understand this. I'll talk to the folks and get them off your back."
I started to laugh. "Folks? You just called that dangerous little army in there folks.” I started laughing which didn’t do much to stabilize the hammock. “Help me out of this thing."
I grabbed his offered arm and successfully extracted myself from the hammock without toppling both of us over. We walked back in together.
Chapter Twenty-four
I was loading the dishwasher after the non-denizens of my house had left, listening to Harry berate me with only half an ear.
"So, you're quitting, just when we need you."
"I already said Dave could stay here, and you could use my car and our house. You don't need me, you need my stuff."
"But what about your responsibilities?"
"Now, you stop right there. My responsibilities? My responsibility is to stay alive because if I die, Noelle will kill you. What about Alex? You're only thinking of yourself."
"But we make such a good team
, you and I," Harry whined.
"Harry, you’re a force all by yourself. I'm only brave when I'm drinking and AA meetings are not too far off for me. You need to be with people who train for this kind of thing. Although, I think you're too pretty for the military."
Harry blushed, "Okay, but if I need you?"
"You know I'll be there. Now get some sleep, you’ve a busy day tomorrow, I imagine."
"Wanna know what we're doing?"
"Nope," I said, drying my hands. "I need my car in the morning so you'll have to share with Buslowski."
"We’re going together anyway. Where are you going?"
"Shopping." I smiled.
Harry left the kitchen. I opened the pantry and stared at the whisky bottle inside. I left it there and went into the den to say goodnight to Dave who was pounding the keys of my computer. I didn't want to know what he was doing, but I did want to warn him about something. "Dave."
He looked up. "Yes?"
"Don't give Harry a gun because he doesn't know how to use one." I sat down facing him. "Do you really have to resume looking for these guys?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Be careful," I said, getting back up. "I already have one rabid woman hating me. I don't want your wife joining her."
He smiled. "Too late.” His smile weakened. “Don't worry, this is what I do."
"Night," I said, walking out.
"Night," he said, resuming his pounding of the computer keys.
I decided that I might as well call it a night. Television didn't interest me, and the book I had been reading had mysteriously disappeared off the coffee table - Harry most likely. It took a while before sleep came, but when it did it was filled with dreams.
Have you ever had one of those dreams where you wake up into another dream? I'm not talking sleep paralysis but an inner dream. Things seem like you’re awake: you can smell scents, feel temperature changes, and if we were living in a comic book world it would be like entering another dimension. Well, that is what happened to me.
I awoke to the feeling that someone was sitting on my bed. I hoped it was Harry just trying to convince me to stay with the program. If it was Buslowski, well, I would certainly throw him out of the house. I mean where did he get off? But it wasn't. It was Dwayne.
"You're dead," I said, sitting up.
"Am I?" he said as he stood up and held out his hand. "Come."
"If you're not dead then you're one of the bad guys."
"Cin, you know me. I wouldn't leave my children to the world these terrorists want to have."
"If you're not dead, where are you?"
"Come." He grabbed my hand and pulled me out of bed. As soon as my feet touched the floor the room disappeared. Oh boy, this had that whole Christmas Carol feel to it. We were flying into the night, but the sky got lighter as we headed west.
"Look." He pointed downward at the previous day. I saw the truck leaving, but he wasn't driving it. Wait. Did I actually see him driving it? Did Father David actually see him driving it? I guess we both assumed.
"Who died in the explosion? Where are you?"
"Look." He pointed to the landscape trucks driving away. Sure enough, there were crates in back. I found myself in the bed of one of the trucks looking at each crate. One of the crates had holes drilled in it. It was a long crate, almost coffin sized.
"Where are you?" I asked.
"I’m with my children. Find them, and you'll find me." And then he was gone, and I was left at the side of the road.
"At least you could have given me a ride home!" I screamed.
The sound of me screaming in my dream woke me up. I looked at the clock. It was almost midnight, barely an hour had passed. Well, if the ghosts of Christmas could do it, so could Dwayne. The memory of his warning got me out of bed, “Be careful you don't become a ghost.” If this were a comic book world then that's where he got the idea. Or was it my idea? Dreams were funny sometimes. Sometimes they helped you work out problems. Or bring them to the surface. I tugged on a robe and went looking for Dave.
He was still pounding on the keys of the computer.
"Are you in a chat room?" I said, and he jumped out of his chair.
"You scared the shit out of me," he said, settling down. "No, I'm trying to write my wife an apology."
I walked around the desk and rolled the chair with him in it back a little. "Here." I leaned over the keyboard and typed:
I'm sorry I was such an inconsiderate bastard. Love, Dave
"Direct and to the point. She doesn't want a manifesto. She just wants an apology. She already knows you're a bastard when it comes to putting your work first. Hell, I've experienced it first hand, or first thumb." I stopped and wiggled my thumbs and for the last time played the thumb cuffs card. "She needs you around sometimes,Dave, even if it's just to mow the lawn."
"I work hard at my job so she can have stuff," Dave defended.
"She doesn't want stuff. She wants you.”
"Is there anything else or are you going to yell at me all night?" Dave asked.
I moved back to the other side of the desk. "Did you see who was driving the rental van?"
"No, I never got close enough. He had quite a head start, and I was supposed to tail him, not ride his bumper."
"Good thing for you as it turns out. I was racking my brain, and I don't think I saw Dwayne actually driving away."
"The group consensus is that the explosion from the van was not only a diversionary tactic but was supposed to take out whoever was tailing it."
"Was there a body in the van?"
"According to the crime scene team, yes, there was a human driving the van."
"You see that's where I’ve a problem. If it was a suicide mission, I can't see Dwayne volunteering for it. He just doesn't fit the profile."
"It's possible he didn't know what he was carrying in the van. Father David thought he seemed genuine."
"Dwayne never did anything fast. He was always late. He was very laid back. I saw that van speed out of the parking lot."
"It was going pretty fast for a canal road," Dave said, rubbing his chin. "I had to slow down to navigate over some potholes and was surprised that the van was still in sight."
"It had to wait for you. Dwayne would have been oblivious to being tailed," I reasoned. "Dave, call this a gut feeling, but I don't think that Dwayne is dead, and I don't think he was part of this."
"That makes him a hostage or dead."
"There were some long boxes in the back of the trucks, weren't there?"
"That's what Father Thomas saw."
"Did he follow them?"
"Now if you weren't pigheaded you would have gotten this all first hand at the meeting."
"Well?" I asked, ignoring his comment.
"He followed them north but lost them where the road forks up by the fish camps. The two trucks split up, and the one he followed got on the highway and was long gone before he caught up."
"They're still there on the east side of the lake. I don't know how I know - let’s call it a gut feeling. Dwayne may still be alive, but why they are keeping him alive is the question."
"Hostages are for leverage, but they assume we think that he died in the explosion. What kind of leverage would he be?"
"The kids," answered a sleepy voice from the doorway. "He knows the kids, and they know him. They love him." Harry yawned.
"My God, they're going to use the school in some way, the kids!" Dave reached for the phone.
I grabbed his hand. "Wait, if you go out there now they’ll just kill Dwayne and go into hiding again. We need to figure out why they need Dwayne and the kids."
"Hostages," suggested Harry. "They take the school hostage and blow it up when help arrives."
"Not big enough. The place is isolated. Even with the first responders they could impact less than a hundred individuals." Dave pulled his hand away from mine.
Pushing away the embarrassment that I was still holding his hand, I pictured the school. “
The buildings, the teachers.”
"The buses!" I turned to Harry who had caught up to me in thought.
"They're going to blow up the buses in a place that they could do the most damage."
"The air show!" Harry and I said together.
Harry pointed a finger at me. "You owe me a coke."
"Grow up," I said.
"Children, back to business," Dave interrupted. "They wouldn't be able to get empty buses by security down there, and they couldn't handle a bus full of adult hostages, not after 9/11. They would fight back."
"So, the bastards are going to use the children. And Dwayne is the lure. They would trust him, the children and the teachers. We can't let this happen!" I cried.
"Hang on a minute." Harry pushed on me gently until I sat down. "The show is on Saturday. The kids wouldn't be in preschool on a Saturday."
"Not unless this was a scheduled outing."
"Who takes preschoolers to an air show?" Harry questioned.
"No one in their right mind. They would be all over the place. They wouldn't be interested in the planes," I said calming down. "Okay, I see your point. But why hang on to Dwayne?"
"I think you're right about the buses. Do they loan the buses out?"
"I don't know. But could you see a busload of terrorists getting by security?"
"They’re green and white buses aren't they?" Dave asked. "Seems to me, I've seen adults on those buses before. On Sundays."
"Maybe the local churches use them to transport parishioners to church or..." I started.
"Other functions," Harry filled in. "Like a trip to the air show."
"They wouldn't know that there was a bomb on the bus or buses. So they wouldn't fight back. The driver wouldn't even know or the passengers wouldn't be surprised if the driver was someone they didn't know - after all, he’s just a driver."
"Why Dwayne?" I asked again. "Why keep him alive?"
"Cin, he could be part of this," Harry said gently.
"He wouldn't put his children in danger. He wouldn't. He could have talked the school into loaning the buses for a fee. I can see him being duped, but?"
"I think we have to assume he's dead."
