Not Alone

by Frederic Martin

  “Thanks,” voxed Blue.

  And that was that. She was gone, her thoughts securely hidden behind the castle walls she had built in her mind. They walked silently back to the O’Day house, not exactly together – she walked like he wasn’t there and he walked slightly behind to give her some space. She headed to the backyard and disappeared up and through the window without even turning to say goodnight. Will shook his head. She sure didn’t make being a friend easy all the time.

  On his way home, he thought about how Blue had come out of her shell over the previous few weeks when they had been out practicing night stalking—almost chatty, definitely bossy about teaching him stuff, but also inquisitive and almost warm towards him. There was that one dark spot at the end of the night last night, but there was no way that was the reason for her behavior tonight. Some of tonight was normal but the beginning and end were outright weird. She had treated him like he was a ghost or a zombie or a wild animal. Something had to have happened since last night. Something not good.

  18

  No Going Back

  Blue was angry. She had been shaken badly by the nightmare, and she didn’t like it. It had invaded her new life and morphed into a new kind of torture by replacing the cast of characters. It was like it knew it was losing its grasp on her and needed to reinvent itself in order to continue torturing her. It was no longer a dream about a memory, it was a threat to those she cared about now.

  Well, she was damned if she was going to let her life be dictated by this cursed nightmare. She was going to defeat it.

  She was convinced it wasn’t going to go away until she had dealt with the root cause. It would continue morphing and haunting her until then. The cause was the people who did this to her and her family—the same people who now threatened her new family. They were drug dealers, she knew that for sure. She might never know the dealers who killed her family, but it didn’t matter now. The drug dealers of her memory were replaced with something much more dangerous, the drug dealers who were threats right here and now. They were in her sights and it was time to stop messing around and start nailing them. She had been forming a plan in her head for a while, and until now it had been more of a good intention. But the infrared camera changed everything. It gave her a secret weapon. Now it was real. She was going to do this. And she knew exactly what the first step was.

  Confrontation.

  Jack was sitting on a bench close to the restrooms this morning. Bronco was gone for a couple of days. Probably stocking up, thought Jack. Bronco didn’t tell him much detail about the back end of this whole operation, and Jack didn’t really want to know. He was just in it to earn some cash right now and didn’t want to get in any deeper than he needed to.

  It was a nice morning—a little cooler than earlier in the week, and it was a welcome change. Between the cool temperature and taking a drag on the first cigarette from a fresh pack, he was feeling pretty good and didn’t much care if anyone came by today. It was easy work, and the setup was pretty low risk. A kid would come by and give him a nod and then flash a twenty from his pocket. Jack would get up and chat with the kid, and they would walk, and while they walked the kid would slip him the twenty, and he would slip back a small ziplock with five joints. Sometimes, if there were a lot of people in the park, Jack would tell the kid, “Restroom in 5.” After the allotted time, Jack would get up and go to the restroom. If the kid was still in there, he would just swap the twenty for the ziplock. If the kid wasn’t there, Jack would reach up above the light fixture over the sinks and find the twenty stuck there. He would replace the twenty with a ziplock. Didn’t matter who found it. As long as he got his twenty, he was happy. It was low risk either way. There were no surveillance cameras in the restroom and hardly any in the park and the ones that were there were easy to avoid.

  If at any time it didn’t look good to make a transaction, if it was too crowded at the restroom, or a cop was around, Jack would just shake his head at the prospective customer and then go to a different bench in the park where it was quieter. Everyone knew where to look for him and how to make the exchange. It was pretty safe, too. He never had more than an ounce of pot on him and never took in so much money that he looked rich. If he got busted, it would just be a misdemeanor. But he didn’t plan on getting busted.

  Sometimes, someone new would come along. He could tell it a mile off—the nervous glances and the hesitation. If there was nobody around, he would just say, “Hi there. You waiting to meet someone?” or something like that to put them at their ease. They’d usually respond with something like, “No. Well yeah, I’m looking for someone named Jack.” He’d reply with a smile and say, “Well you found him.” He’d then be friendly and say, “Look, nothing bad is going to happen, I’ve been doing this a long time,” and then he would explain how to approach and when to keep walking. “It’s easy, no problem.” If it looked like it could turn awkward, he would just stand up, pull out his phone as if he had gotten a call, and then walk away, talking into his phone.

  Jack was often amazed at how easy it was to read people. This sometimes seemed more of a study of sociology than it was a job selling illegal drugs. Sociology. He smiled to himself. It had been the only class he had really gotten into in high school. Everyone had been shocked when he aced that class.

  Yes, people were very predictable, which was why he was a bit puzzled now. A girl was standing in front of him, bold as brass, and he hadn’t the faintest clue as to how she got there without him noticing. She was thin yet sturdy and looked young, but could be anywhere from eleven to fifteen. She was looking at him blandly and suddenly started talking.

  “A friend of mine said you would sell me some pot,” she said simply. “Will you?”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, there girl. Where did you hear that?” asked Jack, caught off-guard.

  “I just said. A friend of mine told me. That’s where I heard it. Can’t you hear me? I’ll speak up.” The girl got ready to repeat herself loudly.

  “Wait, wait, wait!” said Jack, and he held up his hand for her to stop. He felt kind of stupid holding his hand up like that to a young girl, so to cover, he put his hand up to his mouth thoughtfully, sat back, and darted a look to the left and right. Jack was ticked at himself. He was acting like a complete amateur. This girl had knocked him out of his rhythm. He sat and rubbed his chin thoughtfully while he recovered his wits.

  “Okay, you got me. I do happen to have an extra joint here in my personal stash, and I might be willing to share it,” and then he paused. He looked down at the ground and then back up at her face. “But I don’t just give it to young kids like you. What are you, twelve? You are way too young to be smoking dope, kid.” Jack took a pull on his cigarette. He thought to himself, “So what if I was ten when I started. with a drunk son-of-a-bitch for a dad like mine, who wouldn’t?”

  The girl stared at him for a moment. Jack felt like he was being dissected. “I’m not twelve, I’m fourteen,” said the girl, and before he could object she continued, “Look—I’ve been in and out of a lot of foster homes, group homes, and even a psych ward. There isn’t much I haven’t seen. I don’t think I would’ve made it without getting stoned now and then to take the edge off.”

  Jack could see it in her eyes. There was truth behind her words, maybe not the total truth, but enough. He knew exactly what she was talking about, and whether he believed her or not, he had enough of a heart in him to give her the benefit of a doubt, so he said, “I get it. Say no more. This is what we’ll do. This one is on me, but we will do it so nobody gets in trouble. I am going to leave a little ziplock packet over the light fixture above the mirror in the boy’s room. You go there in about five minutes and reach up and pick it up. You don’t have to look, you can just feel for it. You’re okay going into the boy’s room, right? Nobody’s gonna care, just tell ’em you’re looking for your dad, okay? You got that?” He looked up at the girl.

  She said, “Got it.”

  “Okay,” said Jack, “But re
member next time, you bring a twenty dollar bill. Twenty bucks for five joints. Just pat your pocket to show me you’ve got a twenty, and we’ll find a spot to swap. Easy-peasy. You got that, too?”

  She said, “Got it. I’ll be back in five.” She turned and walked off.

  “Wait a second,” said Jack, and she stopped and turned. “I know you, you’re that girl that hangs out with Wu and that other kid, what’s his name . . . Will . . . down here at the basketball court, aren’t you?”

  The girl didn’t reply, except for a scowl. He couldn’t quite decide if her scowl was because of anger or if that was just a normal look for this girl.

  “So you are one of the O’Day foster clan? That Wu is one heck of a basketball player. He is going to be a star. His friend ain’t bad either. Look, you be careful, I don’t want you to get in trouble, okay?”

  The girl’s scowl turned into an unmistakable glare. “Mind your own business,” she said curtly and then turned and walked off.

  Jack shook his head. She was a strange one, without a doubt, he thought. But she had a familiar look in her face—the look of a survivor. He smiled a little. This girl had some gumption in her.

  Blue was somewhat bothered. She had planned this approach quite carefully, and it went off almost like she expected it to. Almost. What she hadn’t expected was Greazal. She figured he was a low-life psychopath like his older partner, but up close he didn’t come off that way at all. Maybe it was because Gronk wasn’t around. She had always regarded them as Gronk and Greazal, but now she couldn’t ignore the fact that his real name was Jack. She had picked up on that some time ago, but until now, it was much more convenient to think of him as Greazal, the low-life. But, after talking with him, and reading his thoughts, she realized he was more like Jack, the human being.

  Well, anyway, she had the joint, which means she had some hard evidence. She wasn’t quite sure she knew what to do next. She needed more than the joint. That was small stuff. She had been hoping she might pick up something that would let her know how they dealt the hard stuff. The “candy”, the “smack”, the “horse”, the “junk”, the “big H." Heroin.

  But she got nothing.

  She suspected that Gronk was the key and that she would have to find a way to confront him and catch the chiss that would lead her to the answer.

  She was walking back home, deep in thought when she passed a couple—young, maybe college students—and she caught a chiss “. . . score some smack . . .”

  She stopped short. She turned around and caught up to them as casually as she could. She got close enough that she could hear them talking and she even pick up reflections of their chiss.

  “. . . yeah, tomorrow night . . . restrooms . . . it’ll be fine . . .” “. . . she worries too much. I’ve done this a million times . . .” “. . . I’ve got cash . . .” “. . . Bronco charges too fucking much . . .”

  This was it! These two wanted to buy some heroin. Probably tomorrow night by some restrooms! But—which ones? What time?

  Blue took a chance and got a little closer. She stared intently at the backs of their heads and as the guy turned to the girl. Blue could pick up the voice and chiss clearly.

  “. . . like I said, over there—the parking lot next to the restrooms, midnight . . .” The guy gestured toward the park building with the restrooms next to the parking lot, “. . . really ridiculous, the police are clueless . . .” “Um, are you looking for someone?”

  The guy was looking right at her. Blue turned instantly on her heels and headed back to the house leaving the couple safely behind. But she got the clue she wanted. This was more than a lucky break. It was a sign. She felt like she was meant to nail these guys. She believed for a long time that this moment would come—everything would fall into place and go in her favor. She had a time and a place, and now all she needed to do was get that night vision camera! It had a zoom lens and could take videos, too. That was something she could take to the police . . . and something they couldn’t ignore. She knew she could do it. She just needed to borrow that camera from Will somehow.

  Tomorrow was Friday and Will didn’t have work, so she should be able to meet with him, but could she get the camera? And would Will come with her? He’d be a huge safety factor. She had to convince him somehow. Problem was, she had a hunch that interpreting nightmares was not a convincing argument for Will. And besides, how could she possibly bring up what she saw in her nightmare, especially to him? Plus, she hadn’t exactly treated him very well the past couple of nights. Still, the threat of drugs and pushers in their very own park had seemed to resonate with him, and the threat to Rose and Sam was very real. The joint would prove that. If she could get one so easily, how long was it before friends of Rose and Sam were getting stoned? A new wave of disgust and loathing welled up in her. She couldn’t forgive Jack, no matter how reasonable he seemed. You don’t just give out a joint to a fourteen-year-old. And he had even thought she was younger!

  As Blue reached the house, she also reached a new resolve. She was going to do this Will or no Will. It was the right thing to do, whether she could convince Will to help or not. She just hoped she could.

  19

  The Proposition

  Wu handed Will the note and said, “What’s up with this, we’re back to notes again?”

  “I don’t know. Has she been acting weird lately?” asked Will.

  “Yeah, a little. Ma Beth said she spent the whole day in her room except to go to the park by herself for about half an hour. Why would anyone go to the park for just half an hour? I don’t know. She gets in weird moods from time to time.”

  Will was anxious to read the note, but he was afraid that Wu would want to know the details, especially since he seemed worried about Blue. Will decided he had to take the chance anyway. Blue would have known that he might have to open it in front of Wu.

  He opened it and read:

  That was it. Will smiled, because this was clever. A little corny, but clever enough to work. She knew Wu would be there, and she also got a message across to Will without it being suspicious. Meet at midnight and bring the camera.

  He read the whole note out loud to Wu.

  Wu seemed relieved. “Yeah, it has been humid the last couple of nights, and being up in that room? She should just go down and sleep on the couch in the rec room. What’s this camera she’s talking about?”

  “It’s really cool, a night vision camera, I’ll show you.” Will still had the camera in his room. When he got it out and demonstrated it, Wu tried to act impressed, but only showed half-hearted interest. Wu was not exactly a science geek.

  At midnight, Will intercepted Blue as she slipped out the downstairs window of the O’Day’s family room.

  “Click, click, click” voxed Will.

  “Cht, cht, cht!” Blue voxed back. “Where are you?”

  Will couldn’t help smiling to himself—he must have gotten better at stalking if Blue couldn’t find him. “By the gate,” he voxed

  In a moment Blue materialized next to him. “You brought the night vision camera,” she said matter-of-factly. “Good. Let’s go to the park. I don’t have much time. I want to get back soon.”

  Well, thought Will, I guess things are back to normal. That is, the familiar minimal words, to-the-point, ‘introvert’ normal . . . not the ‘Hey Will, good to see you’ normal.

  “Okay, but why not someplace closer if you need to get back soon?”

  “The park,” she voxed with finality.

  Great. It was going to be one of those nights again. He sighed. “What are we waiting for then . . .”

  She looked at him with the tiniest hint of apology in her face, but then it vanished and she took off with a dash—disappearing into the shadows. Will followed her and matched her pace with much more practiced ease than their first night weeks ago. He almost didn’t trip on anything.

  They quickly reached the park—the route being so familiar they could have each easily reached it with their eyes closed
. They only encountered one smooching couple and one car but easily evaded any exposure or detection by melting into the shadows. Will had no idea where Blue was taking him—it wasn’t their usual stomping grounds, during the day or at night. It was at the far end where there was a small parking lot and restroom. It was not well lit, only indirectly by a single streetlight down the block. And there was one outstanding feature about this spot: an enormous maple tree.

  “What are we doing here?” asked Will.

  Blue was inspecting the restroom area and studying the tree. She didn’t speak for a minute. Then she pulled something out of her pocket and held it near his face. It looked like a ziplock bag. He could smell what was in it before he could actually see it. It had the spicy, fruity fragrance that he had learned to identify in his first year at high school. When his eyes finally focused on the bag and its contents, he wasn’t sure what to say. Even though he was expecting something unusual, he wasn’t expecting this.

  “Blue, what are you thinking? You could get in so much trouble with this! Where in hell did you get it?”

  And then she dropped the real bombshell. “You have to keep it,” and the next thing he knew, she was stuffing the little bag in his pocket. “And don’t open it. It’s a bag inside a bag. It’s got his prints on the bag inside.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” voxed Will, and he scrambled to take the bag out of his pocket again. He held the bag in his hand awkwardly. He couldn’t give it back to her. He really didn’t want her to get in trouble, but he couldn’t keep it either. “I can’t take this!”

  “Stop being ridiculous,” voxed Blue. “It isn’t hard to hide something like that. Besides, cops don’t watch kids like you. They watch kids like me. They would throw me back into the system.”