by Weston Ochse
“You know, if you don’t want those pretzels, I’ll take them off your hands.” The request was accentuated by the rumbling of his voluminous stomach. Danny slid the opened package over to the edge of his tray.
“Thanks kid. And hey, if anyone gives you any trouble just tell me and I’ll take care of it.”
Danny smiled. Yeah, the guy was probably okay. He returned his attention to the map that Tony had made on his computer. It showed the surrounding area, concentrating on the roads linking the major towns. Other than Tucson and Tombstone, Danny had never heard of the others—Sierra Vista, Bisbee, Benson. Armed with the map and the information Maxom had gotten from his recon into The Land, he felt pretty confident. In fact, he felt less nervous than he thought he’d be.
When everything was all over, he was going to owe some people big time, not the least being his mother. When she discovered he’d used her credit card to buy plane tickets and bus tickets, she was going to kill him. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he was able to save Elaina. He hoped so, because that’s what he was counting on, otherwise his mother would send him to a boy’s school in Antarctica.
Then there was Tony. He’d downloaded maps. They’d printed weather reports, pictures of deadly looking animals, even deadlier looking cacti, and absolutely evil insects. Tony had been indispensable, especially since he was able to pay for Danny’s airplane and bus tickets online.
Then, of course, there was Maxom. Not only had he gone to Sierra Vista via The Land and returned with a lot of strange, scary information, but he’d helped him get on the airplane.
The ticket agent had looked at him funny when he’d shown up with Danny. “Sorry, sir. But there must be a relative to complete the paperwork if this young man is going to be traveling as an unaccompanied minor.”
“We are related,” said Danny. “He’s my uncle.”
Both the girl and Maxom had stared in silent shock for a good five seconds.
“But he’s black,” the girl finally said.
“Oh no!” said Maxom, touching his face.
“I’m adopted,” Danny said, ignoring Maxom’s lame attempt at humor. “Ain’t that right, Uncle Max.”
“Uh, that’s correct. Uh, Rebecca Jenks, the woman who paid for the flight, she’s my sister. She’s at the hospital right now.”
“Well, I don’t know. See, that person really should be here to—”
“You can call her, if you want,” offered Danny, his voice low. “They allow phones in the cancer ward now and she’s not so sick anymore after her chemo, just sad is all. I’m gonna go visit my relatives while she has her operation.” Danny allowed his voice to crack a little, just as they’d practiced in Tony’s room.
“There there, boy,” said Maxom, patting him atop his head just a little too hard with the metal hook.
“Oh My,” was all the girl could say. Within fifteen minutes the paperwork was filled out and, with a flourish of his hook that made the young woman gasp, Maxom signed as guardian. They rushed to the plane where, with only a few minutes left before Danny boarded, Maxom slipped an envelope with two hundred dollars into his backpack.
“You just be safe, boy. Both of us are as crazy as they come for doing this. Hell, I’m the worse for it for letting you talk me into it, but for a white boy, you seem to have a good head on your shoulders, so I’m gonna trust you to make it back safe and sound. Also, I’m gonna be there watching over you, so if you see a bird staring at you funny like, it’s most likely me so don’t go throwing any rocks at it. Okay?”
Danny had only been able to nod as a strange knot of emotion lodged in his throat.
“Boy,” Maxom added after a long pause. “I kind of liked the sound of that Uncle Max. When you get back, you can call me that anytime. All right?”
“All right, Uncle Max.”
* * *
A hand shook his shoulder and Danny woke with a start.
“Please put your seats and tray tables into their upright position. We’ll be landing in just a few minutes.”
Danny did as he was told, yawning. He didn’t know how, but he’d fallen asleep. The business of flying was a boring one. At first, he’d been excited about the take-offs and landings. Even though he was getting older, he hadn’t flown a lot. Other than this trip, the only other place he’d ever traveled to by airplane was New York City, with his parents when he was eight years old. That trip had been a straight shot. This plane had flown to Atlanta first, arriving late because of a thunderstorm. Danny and a young flight attendant had deplaned first and been forced to run to the connecting gate, barely making the flight to Tucson.
Danny checked his seat belt, then stared out the window beside the fat man and watched the lights of the city rise to meet them. The landing was uneventful. When the plane taxied up to the gate, which was not nearly as far away as the one in Atlanta had been, people started to get out of their seats even before the Captain had turned off the fasten seatbelt sign. Everyone began gathering their luggage except for Danny and the fat man. The fat man seemed content to stay where he was and Danny wasn’t even allowed to move without the flight attendant’s say-so.
The main door opened and the press began as the people in back tried to hurry the process. Danny was happy to be sitting and not queued up with the rest of the people. He was the perfect size to get elbowed in the head or pushed to the ground and it didn’t seem as if anyone would care. A slender man, handsome features and short hair, leaned down.
“My name’s, Teddy. What’s yours?” Danny stared into soft features of a thirty-something face. The man’s wispy brown hair was receding. His eyes were a cloudy blue.
“Move on fellow,” said the fat man in a deep steady voice.
The man started to protest, then his eyes widened and he moved quickly away. Danny glanced back at his companion and noticed the silver glint of metal beneath the inside breast pocket of the man’s sport coat. A badge? The fat man noticed Danny’s stare and grinned, his three chins merging into one.
Soon, it was Danny’s turn. The flight attendant seemed to have done this before and had removed Danny’s papers from the pouch in preparation for a fast turnover. As they strode up the gangway to wait for a relative who’d never come, Danny became more nervous.
When they arrived at the waiting area and there was no one there to pick him up, Danny craned his neck and pretended to search. A wall mural beside him showed red mountains with a blue sky. The arms of a saguaro reached towards a silver slice of moon. The ceilings were very low, nothing like the cavernous terminals in Atlanta. The carpet was a short gray. Blue bench seats made from comfortable looking vinyl were arrayed before each gate, the space in between empty all the way back to the security area. Several people tramped by, none of them intended for Danny.
The flight attendant sighed. “Damn. Always my luck.”
“She works late. She’ll be here.”
“I hope so,” said the flight attendant. All of his desire to help had been left back in the plane it seemed. “This is an airline, not a baby sitting service.”
Suddenly, Danny found himself not liking the man. Initially, when he and Maxom had discussed this aspect of the plan, Danny had felt bad that the person might get fired for losing track of a child. Now, he didn’t care. The man’s attitude had solved the problem for him. Danny’s only concern, now, was to figure out a way to escape.
Five minutes later, right about the point where the flight attendant was ready to detonate, the answer to Danny’s problems strolled into the waiting area in the form of a grandmotherly woman in a flower print dress. In one hand she carried a large, white leather purse and in the other a small dog carrier. No sooner did she sit down, than she opened the carrier and brought out a tiny gray-haired Yorkshire Terrier. Danny searched and spied the bathroom. He began to head that way but was pulled up short by the flight attendant’s hand gripping his backpack.
“And where do you think you’re going?”
To get you fired.
“
To the bathroom.”
A look of impatience passed across the man’s face. “I don’t know—”
“You can come if you want. I promise nothing will happen to me.” When it seemed as if the flight attendant just might follow, Danny hastily added, his voice an embarrassed whisper. “I think it’s the stew from last night. Daddy said the meat was a funny color. I hope they have enough toilet paper.”
The flight attendant made a face and flicked his hand at Danny to go on. “I’ll be watching you from here, so don’t try anything funny, young man.”
Danny hurried into the bathroom, took the first available stall, latched the door shut and placed his backpack on the coat hook. Sitting down, he brought his feet up off the floor. He gripped his knees loosely. His heart was beating very fast. Concentration was difficult. He didn’t have a lot of time. He failed several times before he finally felt the beginnings of the familiar nothingness creep and consume his body.
The Land of Inside-Out was the same here as anywhere else and it was easy for him to adjust. Hovering, he searched out and found the small life pad with the faint gold tinting that gave itself away as a dog. He shot for it, merging quickly into a duality. The dog’s nervousness was almost overwhelming. Colored swirls of a thousand scents virtually obscured his vision. The sight made him slightly nauseous as he found the dog trying desperately to see past the colored tendrils, but unable to focus appropriately. The only thing settling the poor animal was the continual stroking from the large woman.
Danny took advantage of the dog’s nervousness. It took a small moment to gain control, but with a small shove he took over. And like the driver at the helm of a high-performance race car, he floored it.
The Yorkshire Terrier leapt from the woman’s lap and ran yipping the entire length of the waiting area. When it reached the floor to ceiling window it spun, sliding until the small furred ass scraped the glass, then shot back the way it had come. Soon, all eyes were upon the woman as she hobbled back and forth, attempting to restrain her crazed animal. Danny could sense the joy the animal felt at this new game, the sensation all the better for his possession. He allowed the animal a modicum of control and thrill as it began leaping up and onto chairs, over people’s laps and between legs.
Soon several people were chasing the dog. A young boy almost caught it, his small quick hand grasping the tail. The dog yelped and spun, nipping to scare the offender away. The boy barely pulled back in time. Danny didn’t give the kid a chance to recover. He shot through the legs and under a length of blue-seats. Out the other side, he scooted by two squealing girls.
Danny sensed the dog tiring, which was just as well. He slowed and ran up to the flight attendant who was trying hard to ignore his yapping.
“Get my Pretty Baby, young man. Don’t let her get away!”
The flight attendant gave her a withering look and stared down at the animal that was circling his feet. “Shouldn’t be bringing animals here anyway. It’s not like you’re blind.” The words were only loud enough for the dog to hear. The flight attendant reached down and Danny allowed the dog to be plucked from its circuit. The man’s grip was too tight. Danny could feel fingernails digging beneath the dog’s long gray hairs. As the flight attendant brought the dog up, he held it at arms length and stared into its eyes.
“Rat,” he hissed.
Almost without Danny’s assistance, the dog let loose with a thin, putrid stream of urine catching the man full upon his chin. As the dog was released to the screams and wails of the flight attendant, Danny returned to himself.
He snatched up his bag and opened the door. Looking neither left or right, he dodged out of the stall and the bathroom. The commotion was to his left, where the flight attendant was now cursing at the dog.
Danny turned right and loped towards the exit. Past a raised shoe shine stand, past a sunglasses store, past two seven foot peppers holding up a sign that read: El Charro. The exit sign by the security area was in view as a hand shot out and grasped the back of his collar. Danny felt himself jerked from the ground. A hand smelling faintly of sweat and urine clamped firmly over his mouth.
He felt breath upon his cheek as his captor spoke. “I never did get your name.”
Danny struggled, but was unable to dislodge the man’s grip. He closed his eyes and for a second considered trying to enter The Land. The idea was ludicrous, however. He was far too terrified. Opening his eyes, he spied another bathroom up ahead, just to the right of the escalators. It seemed to be their destination.
“You shouldn’t worry about getting away. Nothing’s going to happen to you.” The voice trembled slightly. “I’ll be nice. I promise.”
As Teddy carried Danny into the bathroom, an immense figure in a black suit suddenly blocked the entrance—the man who’d sat next to him on the flight. With a hand the size of a catcher’s mitt, he reached out and smacked the side of his captor’s head. Danny felt the strength of the blow as they were both rocked sideways. The hand struck out again.
“Let go of the boy, asshole.”
Danny saw fury in his savior’s eyes, tempered by something more resolute.
As Teddy fell to his knees and Danny’s feet touched the floor, he twisted out of the man’s clutches.
“Get behind me, kid. Nothing to—Where are you going? I’m a United States Marshal.”
Danny glanced back and saw that the Marshal had Teddy’s neck gripped tightly in his left hand while his right hand held open his jacket revealing a silver star encompassed by a silver ring. Instead of slowing, however, Danny sped up.
“Come on,” the Marshal yelled. “Don’t make me chase you! You’re only gonna get yourself hurt out there!”
Danny ignored the words as he leapt down the moving escalator somehow managing not to break his neck. At the bottom, he saw two sliding doors. He ran through as they opened, out into the hellish heat of an Arizona dusk.
* * *
Border Patrol Checkpoint
Near Benson, Arizona
The specially converted bus, replete with the finest in wire-meshed windows, was already half full by 8 PM. In several of the windows faces stared out, the fear of deportation counter-balanced by confusion as they watched Agent Gil Gooly giggle.
Creating a persona wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to do. Too often it was mere pastiche, like the dozens of wanna-be Dirty Harrys firing quips like it was cool. There were some in every bureau and every department. Naw, the trick was to be yourself. For most people that was a boring as hell thing to do, but that was only because the people were boring as hell to begin with.
His own childhood had been anything but boring. He’d spent most of it on the run or hiding from bullies. No one had particularly liked a sickly little boy who wasn’t allowed outside because his parents couldn’t afford new clothes and didn’t want people who might hire them seeing the blue bruises darkening their boy’s skin like a low class tan.
“Stop harassing the natives, Gil.”
“If they were natives, we wouldn’t be kicking them out, now would we?” The Ghoul turned to the newbee Border Patrol Agent. His smile said hello, but his eyes said fuck off.
“Jesus, Gil. I was just goofing on you is all.”
“That’s Special Agent Gooly to you and I’d appreciate it if you provide the necessary respect.”
The agent, who looked half of his thirty years, stiffened and tried to grin, but it turned sideways as it lost confidence.
“Don’t pay any attention to old Gil here, Jared. He’s had something up his butt for a while now,” said Frank. “If you ever get him on that one good day of the year, you’ll see he’s a good character.”
“Fuck the both of you. All I did was smile at the woman. It’s not like I sniffed her crotch or something else taught in the Border Patrol for Dummies Correspondence Course Program you all graduated from. Don’t be getting so damned territorial.”
“Chill Gil. All’s well.”
“Tell them that.”
“W
hat’s your problem, man?” asked Frank. On the upper end of two-hundred pounds, he could easily be mistaken for a retired wrestler or professional football player.
“Shit. I ain’t got no problem.” The Ghoul buttoned up the top two buttons of his blue ATF windbreaker making him look like a gangbanger with his wrap-around shades worn so casually after dark.
“I was at your daughter’s christening. I was at your wife’s funeral. If God knows you better than me, then I’m fucking surprised.”
“Yeah, well…” The Ghoul stepped behind the bus and observed the line of cars stopped at the checkpoint. “So you know me, so what?”
Frank sighed. “Fine. If you want to act like an asshole, then go on. Just stand back and let us do our job, though. If there’s some contraband, then you can join us.”
The Ghoul turned and considered his old friend as he ascended the small flight of stairs to the single-wide trailer. Frank glanced back at his men. Other than Jared who was under the tarp by the base of the stairs, there were three others. One stood at the door to the bus with a shotgun and the other two were inspecting vehicles. Frank glanced his way one more time, frowned as if he’d just bitten into a raw piece of chicken at a Sunday barbecue then let the glass door close.
Yeah, it was an impressive mess of shit The Ghoul had stumbled upon when he’d found the body of the Border Patrol Agent. Not only were his own superiors unhappy with his sudden prominence, but that high-priced Phoenix lawyer seemed to be taking a personal dislike to him. And their case? They were trying to say that The Ghoul, along with the Border Patrol and several other governmental agencies, were in a conspiracy to violate the First Amendment Rights of the leader and congregation of The Church of the Resurrection.
