The Real Michael Swann

by Bryan Reardon

  “No,” she whispered.

  And it all left her in that moment. She had nothing remaining. Julia sat in a motionless car and knew she would give . . .

  Darkness.

  At first, Julia thought she still had her hands over her eyes. But they had fallen to her lap. She blinked, but the darkness remained.

  “What?” she said aloud.

  She noticed the car no longer shook. The horrible sound, one that had vibrated her bones just an instant before, grew softer. It grew distant. More and more distant. Slowly, surprisingly, she found herself in silence.

  With that sound, that light, came a crushing oppression. As it left her, Julia stirred again. She stared up at the stars and the helicopter was gone. A glimmer of hope returned.

  “He didn’t do it,” she said.

  If she could save him, if she could keep him alive, they’d figure it out. In time, they’d learn. They’d know that he couldn’t have done it. Maybe she couldn’t whisk him away to freedom. But maybe, in time, she wouldn’t have to.

  Once again, Julia found resolve. Her foot lowered. The car moved. And still, she never saw the other one, the black sedan, follow as she drove away.

  14

  The dogs. I heard them getting closer. As my head reemerged from the cold creek water, I knew that between the two, those dogs and the helicopters, they would find me. At the time, if I had known where I was, how big the forest was, maybe I would have thought I could slip free. But I felt that net closing in on me. And all I could do was keep going.

  I waded back to the bank and grabbed the phone. Instead of climbing out, I stayed in the water this time, where it was shallow, and followed it. I hit the home button and looked at the texts. I read them all.

  Eventually, I reached a fork in the river. The way north and east grew wider, the water rumbling over the rocks. Without a thought, I followed it. I went barely a quarter of a mile before I heard voices mingle with the braying of the dogs. I looked up and saw one helicopter not far off hovering over a spot. I hoped, for a second, that maybe they thought I was there, that it would draw them away. But as I watched, it flew quickly away to the north.

  I ran.

  15

  Julia drove deeper into the forest. Each foot she traveled fueled her panic. She needed to do something. She heard the dogs, too. Though no car passed her, she thought she heard engines nearby. She was running out of time.

  Nothing but trees surrounded her. She knew she would never find him this way. But then something appeared out of the darkness, a faint ray of light through the trees. She stared at it, almost missing the long dirt road. It led to a large house. The light came from a lamp on the porch and another in a good-sized parking area. Without knowing why, she turned and headed up to the house, to the light. In the parking lot, she stopped her car.

  Julia knew she couldn’t keep driving around aimlessly. She knew she needed to do something. And the idea hit her. She snatched the phone from her lap and opened her message app. She paused, looking at all the texts. She doubted if any of them had even been seen. But Julia pushed that feeling down and sent a new one.

  Follow to car horn. Its me

  She sent it and laid a hand on the horn. Over and over again she pressed it. The sound was jarring and otherworldly in that still darkness. But she could not stop. She would not. Not until Michael was safe.

  16

  I heard it. Just when the phone vibrated, I heard the horn. And it was close, very close. I read the message and I sprinted, coming out of the water so I could run even faster. I forgot about the dogs and the helicopters, and everything else. All I thought about was her.

  17

  She sounded that horn, over and over again, almost forgetting that the radio was still on. When she heard her husband’s name, she didn’t stop, not right away. But something in the tone caught her attention. The words between each shrill blast started to make sense. They started to piece together. And a chill ran up her body. Her hand hovered over the horn. And she listened.

  “Although unconfirmed, multiple sources within the investigation of the Penn Station bombing are now saying that earlier reports that Michael Swann was a suspect in the attack were not accurate. This shocking news comes as police have confirmed that he is close to capture. Once again, we are now reporting that Michael Swann is not the man responsible for the Penn Station bombing.”

  Julia sprang from the car. She staggered across the pavement, feeling like her legs might give out.

  Innocent.

  The word surrounded her. It at once threatened to throw her to the ground and kept her on her feet. The tears ran down her face, but they were different now. They were so, so different.

  “Michael!” she called out. “I’m here. Michael.”

  Slowly, she moved closer to the tree line that ran right along the back side of the parking lot. She called out, over and over again.

  “MICHAEL, MICHAEL, MICHAEL.”

  * * *

  —

  “MICHAEL, MICHAEL, MICHAEL.”

  I heard her voice. Amazingly, I heard it. It called out to me through the night like some guardian angel. My heart beat so hard against my chest that I thought I might die. But I heard it. I heard her. I heard Julia.

  * * *

  —

  Between her calls to him, she heard tires rolling atop gravel. She stopped about twenty yards from the forest and listened. She heard cicadas surrounding her, and the first hint of crickets. The smell of pine and marsh hung heavy in the air. Her head lifted and she looked again at the stars. It was so dark there in the middle of the Pine Barrens that she could make out the soft glow of distant galaxies behind the bright constellations.

  For a moment, she heard nothing else. Just as she was going to say his name again, though, there it was. That same sound. Julia spun and saw the shadow of a car turning into the parking lot. Its headlights were off, but the sliver of moonlight flashed off its windshield.

  “No,” she whispered. “Nonono.”

  Julia turned, her voice rising, her words frantic.

  “Hurry! They’re coming. MICHAEL! Hurry!”

  * * *

  —

  Off in the distance, I saw the light. It was faint at first, but like the hand of God, it drew me closer and closer. After a few more steps, I could see the outline of a large building taking form behind the tall trunks that surrounded me.

  She called out again. Her voice was so close. She sounded urgent. Telling me to hurry. I did. I tried. I ran through the forest, almost losing my footing in the soft sugar sand of the barrens.

  A hundred yards, seventy, forty. I got closer and closer. Then I saw her for the first time. It was so dark, but I could see the darker lines of her body against the lightly lit building behind her. It was Julia. I was sure of it. My heart reached for her as I stumbled toward those last trees between us. All I wanted to do was see her face. Feel her touch. Hear her soft words. So much so, I never heard the helicopter approaching quickly behind me.

  * * *

  —

  Julia spun around to face the black sedan. The door opened and from the inside light she saw Agent Bakhash. His eyes remained locked on hers, but he didn’t get out of the car right away. They remained still, staring at each other.

  “Get out of here,” she yelled at him. “Didn’t you hear? He’s innocent! He didn’t do it.”

  Bakhash didn’t seem to move. He just stared.

  * * *

  —

  My hand came to rest on the last of the pine trees. The bark felt surprisingly cool against my skin, and as I pulled away, the sap clung. My foot left the forest. Slowly, carefully, it touched the asphalt of the parking lot. All the while, I was fixated, my eyes locked on her.

  As my other foot followed, though, I stopped. Even in the darkness, I noticed that she had her back to me. Why wouldn’t she
look at me? What was wrong?

  “Julia,” I said.

  I don’t know if I whispered or shouted. But she heard me. She turned and we saw each other.

  * * *

  —

  Her eyes burned. She couldn’t see anything. She was about to scream when she heard her name. Julia turned and she saw him. Saw his darker shadow standing just outside the trees. He looked tall and straight, but he wouldn’t move. Her heart beat so hard in that moment, like her chest might explode outward. Julia glanced over her shoulder once and then put her hands up.

  “Don’t run,” she said. “It’s okay. They know. Everything’s okay.”

  * * *

  —

  I wanted to laugh. What did they know? I still knew nothing but one simple truth. And I was almost there. I’d almost reached her. My Julia. I took a step closer and my soul sang. It was almost over.

  * * *

  —

  He moved toward her. Julia soared. He’d come. Somehow, she’d found him. And it wasn’t too late. It would all be okay. She took a tentative step forward, and then another. But then she heard it again. More tires rolling on gravel. She turned and saw them racing up the driveway. A half dozen police cars, lights flashing but no sirens. She turned to Bakhash, who now stood beside his car.

  “No!” she yelled. “Stop them. He didn’t do it.”

  Agent Bakhash spoke calmly. “Get on the ground.”

  “What?”

  He reached into his jacket. As the first headlights from the patrol cars swept across the parking lot, she saw the gun as he drew it out.

  “On the ground,” he repeated.

  “No!” she screamed.

  * * *

  —

  I saw the police. I even saw the man with the gun. I didn’t care, though. Because what I really saw was her. When Julia turned and ran toward me, I went to meet her.

  * * *

  —

  The beat of the helicopter washed over the scene like a striking storm. Julia ran from Bakhash and the other police. If she had a coherent thought in that moment, it was to throw herself between them and Michael. After everything, she couldn’t let it end like this.

  Above the thumping blades overhead, she heard car doors slam. Men shouted, repeating words like POLICE and DOWN. She ignored them all. All Julia could do was get to him, protect him, and everything would be okay.

  Suddenly, the spotlight from the helicopter flashed on. A circle of light appeared on the pavement near the building. It swept quickly toward the two as they raced into each other’s arms.

  * * *

  —

  The light touched Julia and it was a dream. Like I said at the beginning, she appeared out of that darkness, a brightness that I simply didn’t deserve. I can still picture her on that day. She wore a white tank top and capri pants, although it took me months to remember that is what they are called. She stood in the light, its beams touching the soft skin of her cheeks and the heart-stopping strength in her eyes. Her dark hair was pulled back, highlighting the lines of her face and classically long neck. She looked like a runner and a leader, a mother and a timeless beauty, at least to me. And I saw the ring on her finger, silver and simple. Her name was Julia, Julia Swann.

  I ran to her, ready to take her into my arms. Hold on to her forever. But then . . . she stopped.

  * * *

  —

  Julia heard footsteps behind her as the spotlight neared. She ran as hard as she could, her chest burning and her eyes tearing. She had to reach him.

  The light swung toward them. He was close, so close. She reached a hand out, willing the space between them to simply vanish. She would wrap him up. Take him to the ground. Hold him tight until this was all over.

  And then the light shined down and everything was wrong. He was wrong. She saw blunt features, dark hair, black eyes. She saw a face that shocked her, frightened her, but not in a way that she could ever have expected. An instant before the light shined down on them, she saw her husband. She saw Michael’s loving eyes, his ready smile. She saw the father of her children, the man that she dreamed of growing old with. In a flash of light, all that was stripped away. And Julia was left staring in horror at an utter stranger. For the man standing before her was not Michael Swann.

  She dropped to her knees. The screams that burst from her froze everyone there in place. It tore from her heart and ripped through the air like lightning strikes.

  “No,” she wailed. “Noooooooo.”

  18

  I didn’t understand. I still don’t, really. I stood there and watched Julia fall to her knees. The scream, the sound of it, it hit me like the winds of a tornado, throwing me back. I should have spoken. I should have said something. But I couldn’t. That sound. It took my words away. All I could do was stand there and listen.

  As she knelt there, her face changed. In the shining light from above, I saw her change. What had been the face of an angel darkened. I saw hatred there, visceral and raw, as she stared at me. Her hand rose, and she pointed a long, thin finger at me, at my face.

  “Where’s Michael?” she screamed. “What did you do to him?”

  Her voice rose higher and higher. Her words were frantic and savage. She sprang to her feet, lunging at me, grabbing at my throat.

  “What did you do to him? What did you do!?”

  Fingernails cut at my skin. Pain flared and her momentum took us to the ground. But I never moved. I know that. I’m sure of it. I never fought back. I never defended myself. I never moved. I know I didn’t.

  19

  Agent Bakhash arrived first. He grabbed Julia as the other officers reached them. They pried the two apart as Bakhash knelt beside her, holding her shoulder as she sat on the pavement. She looked down at the blood on her fingertips and then absently rubbed them on her shirt. Her eyes were wide-open, vacant, like she’d left already.

  “Are you okay, Mrs. Swann?” Bakhash asked.

  Julia said nothing. She started to rock. She never turned to watch what happened, yet there was no struggle to speak of. The arrest occurred quickly and without resistance. Two cars raced out of the parking lot and back onto the road. A moment later, an ambulance appeared as if it had been waiting all along.

  “Mrs. Swann, I think it’s best if you let the paramedics take you to the hospital. You’ve been through a lot tonight.”

  A stranger appeared and put a blanket on her shoulders. She still didn’t move. She said nothing. She just sat on the pavement, staring off into the Pine Barrens, rocking back and forth.

  * * *

  —

  Agent Bakhash was about to leave her when she reached out and gently grabbed his arm. Her words burned as she forced them out.

  “Who was he?”

  “Daniel Schmidt,” Bakhash said. “He set a fire beside the Amtrak rails south of New York. When Penn Station filled to capacity with innocent people, he set off an explosion, killing hundreds. He is a terrorist, Mrs. Swann. And we had to stop him before he hurt anyone else.”

  Her eyes closed. “But why?”

  “We’re still figuring that out. We believe he intended to kill executives at—”

  “No,” Julia snapped. “Why did he do that? Why did he act like Michael?”

  His voice softened. “We believe he has a head injury. That’s all we know right now.”

  Julia cried, softly. Bakhash made to leave, but she stopped him again.

  “You knew it wasn’t Michael,” she said, softly, emotionlessly. “You let me leave my house. You let me come after him. All the roadblocks, the police, they let me pass.” Her last two words came out like the hiss of a deadly snake. “You knew.”

  He watched her for a moment, as if he weighed every word he might say in response.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Swann. Your husband is dead. He was killed in the initial blast.�
��

  “You knew,” she repeated.

  “Not at first,” he said. “But eventually, yes.”

  “Why?”

  He looked at her the entire time he spoke.

  “That man killed hundreds of people. We had no idea what he would do next. What we knew, though, was that your contact with him changed his course. This was a matter of national security. People were at risk. We couldn’t take any chances. We needed to see if he would come to you. And as you can see, it was a calculated risk, but one that paid off.”

  “That call . . . when I was driving. You wanted me to say that I knew I was putting myself at risk. You wanted a waiver.”

  She blinked, slowly. And a barely noticeable quiver shook her body under the blanket. Julia had never before felt so tired. In a voice that sounded nothing like hers, she asked, “How was I contacting him?”

  “He had one of your husband’s phones.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She shook. “You knew all this?”

  He said nothing.

  “Bastard,” she whispered.

  “Mrs. Swann. We did what we had to do.”

  “But you could have told me.” Her voice rose. “You could have asked me. I would have helped. If I knew, I would have.”

  He stood. His face was utterly emotionless.

  “Mrs. Swann, in cases like this, things progress quickly. We needed to find the suspect before he could hurt anyone else. It was our only priority. To that end, I did what I felt was best. At first, we could not be completely sure as to how involved your husband was in the attack. For that matter, yourself as well. I couldn’t take that chance.”