Just a City Boy (Midnight Train Series)

by V. L. Holt

  I was about to change the subject when he finally said something.

  “I’m sorry, Lauren. You deserve someone so much better than me,” he choked out. I looked at his face, and tears were streaming down it.

  “Oh my word, Zack!” I wrapped my good arm around his side. “You better not even think about breaking up with me. We haven’t been officially girlfriend and boyfriend for twenty four hours!” Oh Lord, I could feel a Southern girl rant coming on. It was like I was channeling Mama in digital HD or whatdoyoucallit.

  “You are a hurting man, Zack, a blind man could see it, but I don’t care. I love how vulnerable you are! I love that you’re human. It makes you more real to me. I don’t know what happened over there, but everything that happens to us makes us who we are. And if you think about it, Zack, I fell in love with the man you have become, and that man exists because of what happened!” I said. I even said that ‘L’ word. We must be the strangest couple this side of the Mississippi. Speaking of love and marriage and neither one of us actually said the famous three words together.

  I could see he was in no position to get on the train quite yet. We found a DDOT shelter and sat in it, the wind blowing leaves and cigarette butts all around us. He sobbed a little, and I dug in my purse for some tissues. I never left home without tissue. I gave him a stash, and he composed himself.

  My heart hurt for him in so many ways, I couldn’t count them. I wondered if maybe I should tell him about Mama and Daddy. I looked at him huddled and taking deep breaths. He was strong, but sensitive too. I remembered him at the lounge muscling those kids that were getting into it. I remembered seeing Harley in the aftermath of meeting Zack’s fist and knee or whatever it was. I knew he could be strong when he needed to be. What guys didn’t realize was that they could be weak too, and it wouldn’t change what women thought of them. I knew all about weak. I knew about being strong. I knew about PTSD in the worst way.

  “Are you gonna be okay, Sugar?” I asked him with my good hand rubbing his back.

  “Yeah, thanks,” he gave a soft laugh. “Let’s get home,” he said, and we made it to the next train.

  I liked how he said ‘home. I liked it a lot.

  We arrived in the wee hours, and I headed straight for my teapot, filled it with water and turned on the stove.

  “You’re not going to like this, Zack, but I’m going to insist you sleep in my bed,” I said from the kitchen. He didn’t answer so I poked my head around the corner. I didn’t see him. I walked to my room, and there he was, collapsed on my bed, all his clothes still on, but his shoes placed nice and neat at the foot.

  God bless him, I thought to myself. I was relieved. I wasn’t quite ready to talk to him about my past either, but I thought both of us had better learn how to share our private thoughts before we sealed the deal. Another twelve hours wasn’t going to hurt anything though, I figured.

  I sat at my table with a pad and paper and started doing some math. I jotted down the rent, groceries and other sundry things. I would have to ask Zack how much the plane ticket was, and then how much the doctor was asking for the treatment plan. Maybe he would be willing to give Zack a discount. I, of everyone, knew the importance of getting help.

  As I was scribbling numbers, I heard a key in my lock. My heart jumped in my throat as the door opened, and Ray walked right in.

  I used every profane word I knew when my eyes fell on my purse, across the room, and not here on the table where I usually put it.

  “Ray, what are you doing here?” I asked him as calm as could be.

  He brought a gun up and aimed it at me.

  “Get up, and come with me,” he said in a conversational tone. I stared at the business end of his Beretta and wondered where he got it. I got up and slowly walked toward him. I wished I could somehow let Zack know what was going on without putting him in danger.

  “Now Ray, you don’t want to do this. You must be out on bail, right? This is a bad idea. You could really mess up your future, you know? Think about your dreams. Remember how you wanted to start a little chartered fishing boat business? You still could. It’s a great idea. Think of all those rich businessmen who want to go out fishing!” I started one of my long chatters. It had saved my bacon before; it just might do it again.

  “Lauren, what in the hell are you talking about?” he said. The Beretta wavered just the tiniest bit.

  “Don’t you remember Ray? That night we lay on a blanket under the stars and shared our dreams? You said you wanted to run a fishing charter,” I said. I was making up the baldest lie I ever told, and it was getting Ray more confused than a Republican at a Mason/Dixon parade. I watched his brows furrow, and I tried to inch my way toward my bag.

  It didn’t work. He reached out and grabbed my good left arm and yanked me out of my apartment.

  He quietly shut the door, almost as if he knew Zack was sleeping in my bed. Oh God, I prayed. Was I about to meet Mama and Daddy? Just when my life seemed to be going in a really good direction?

  “I don’t remember that conversation, Lauren,” he said through gritted teeth. “I think you’re trying to confuse me with all that Southern girl charm that I’ve grown to hate,” he said.

  If I still cared about him that would have hurt. But instead it just made me angrier than a wet hen.

  “I’ve had about enough of your shenanigans, Raymond Jolene Parker!” I shouted at him. We were on the sidewalk outside my building.

  “That is NOT my name, Lauren!” he yelled back at me. He jabbed the gun in my side, and my mind ran through every possible thing I could do to disarm him. My cast would hurt like Hades if I could swing it around and hit him in the head before he got a shot off. I could try to trip him up with my left leg or stomp on his right foot. The only problem was I was wearing my sneakers. What I wouldn’t give to be wearing my spiky stilettos now!

  Ray had us walking briskly toward a Junker parked about twenty feet away. Daddy always told me never to let an attacker get me into a car. My chances of survival would be drastically reduced. It was now or never to give it my best shot.

  I decided my cast was the best weapon at this point because it was so hard. I choreographed my move in my head. First I would step in front of his right leg with my left. He should stumble a bit, and he might shoot me in the kidney. Hopefully he wouldn’t. As I stepped in front of his ankle, I would bring my right arm around and whack him good right in the nose. I took a deep breath and counted my steps so I would get the timing right.

  We were about six steps away from his car.

  One breath, two breaths, now!

  He stumbled; he dropped the gun; I whacked him so hard in the face that my wrist screamed in pain from the aftershock, and I twisted out of his grasp. He roared in anger, but I was already ten feet away, fifteen, running so fast I could be a redneck at a Walmart clearance event. I heard shouting, but I didn’t stop for nothing. I made it all the way to the end of the street before I dared look back.

  Two figures joined and separated in a strange dark silhouette. It was around 3am, after all. It looked like someone was beating on someone else. It must be Zack and Ray, but I couldn’t tell who was who or who was winning. Then a gunshot went off, and I screamed Zack’s name. The last figure standing started walking toward me, and I froze in place. My feet would not move. My mouth would not work. My brain would not think. What would Mama say? What would she say? Mama wasn’t talking either. I was on my own.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Zack was having the dream again. The one where the bus they came up behind was filled with kids, and a little dark-eyed child of about five or six stared at their Humvee out the back window. Dave’s big brother Gideon and Zack played peek a boo with the kid, smiling and covering their eyes while the little kid giggled and pointed. Then two orange plumes went up, one under the bus filled with Afghani children, and the other one behind his vehicle, taking out his entire platoon. Gideon and he were thrown fifty feet, and Gideon landed in two places. Zack screamed an
d screamed, but he could only see the dark eyes of that beautiful child in his mind’s eye.

  He woke with a start to the sound of the teakettle whistling vigorously. He rubbed his eyes and got out of bed, disoriented from his recurring nightmare and wondering why Lauren had forgotten about her tea. Was she in the bathroom? Did she curl up on some pillows and fall asleep?

  He rushed to the kitchen and turned off the burner. He also moved the teakettle to a cool one, and the whistling quickly abated.

  Her cup with a tea bag sat untouched on the counter. Her novel lay on the table. Her purse was across the room where she’d dumped it upon their return from the lounge.

  His internal early warning system was going haywire. She wasn’t here.

  He thought back to their return. Something had niggled at the back of his mind. The bags. Ray’s crap was completely gone. Ray!

  Zack sprang across the room and grabbed her purse. She called her gun her ‘insurance’. He hoped it was something a little more substantial than a little ladies’ two shot unit. Even Dave’s old pistol would be better. When he pulled out her .40 S&W he smiled. Good girl. He checked to see if it was loaded. It was. Switched off the safety. Zack the ex-Army Ranger was open for business.

  He spun to the front door and wrenched it open, letting it bang from the force. He ran down the steps in his socks, using the rail for leverage and leaping in great strides. He landed with an ‘oof!’ at the bottom and tore the outer door open as well. He stopped right outside, looking both ways. It was the darkest part of the morning, and it took a second for his eyes to adjust. There, heading west, were two figures walking closely together. If he didn’t know different, he’d think they were lovers returning from a tryst. He knew different.

  Ray appeared to be escorting her toward an older model car. Zack began his approach as quietly but swiftly as he could. He was still trying to shake the ghostly images of his nightmare from his mind. Gideon. The little baby with the beautiful eyes. John, Reece, Tank, Marshall, Doc, Tanner, Fidge and Don. All gone. He was the only one left. Gideon volunteered to drive that day. He’d let him. Dammit. He shook himself. Counted the steps.

  One. Ten feet away.

  Three. Almost there.

  Five. Lauren swung her arm around and met Ray’s face with a resounding ‘thwack!’ noise. Zack stopped suddenly. If Ray saw him, he might shoot her. Ray dropped his gun and Lauren took off like a track star. This was Zack’s moment. He sprinted the last few steps, and tackled Ray to the ground.

  They scuffled and scrambled, and Ray pinned him for just a moment. But Zack used a wrestling move Gideon had taught him back in high school, and he flipped Ray onto his back. He made sure Ray couldn’t get back up. He had him caught between his powerful legs and a choke hold in the crook of his strong arm. He could feel Ray weakening as he struggled, and then he totally relaxed. Zack loosened his grip involuntarily, and a sharp pain in his arm had him gasp and let go. He rolled and jumped up, pulling Lauren’s gun from his waistband and pointing it at Ray who held a knife in one hand, and his fallen gun, now recovered, in the other.

  The streetlight caught the raging glint in Ray’s eyes, and the blood flowing from his nose. Zack stood at the ready, letting his instincts guide him.

  “Ray, just ease up there. You’ve got a lot riding on what happens next, man. You’re out on bail. You don’t want to mess that up dude,” Zack said.

  Ray used his knife hand to wipe his chin with his sleeve. He glanced at the dark stain.

  “Are you Zack?” he spit the name out like it was poison.

  “Just calm down and nobody has to get hurt,” Zack ignored his question.

  “Hurt! Ha! That’s a crock!” Ray said. Suddenly he flipped the knife so the handle was ready for throwing, and he let it fly straight at Zack’s head. He dodged and Zack’s trigger finger reacted instantaneously, firing three rounds so quickly in succession it sounded like one loud shot. The .40 was a semiautomatic.

  Ray crumpled to the ground, and Zack slowly lowered the gun. What a mess. He looked down the street to see where Lauren ended up. She was under the street sign and a utility pole, and while she appeared to be fine, she had to have heard the gunshot. She might not know who the victor was, so he decided to approach her with caution.

  “Hey, Lauren. It’s me, Zack. You’re going to be okay,” he said.

  He saw her shoulders relax, and then she fell back against the pole. “Oh thank God,” she said, and covered her eyes.

  By now, neighbors had heard the commotion, and the sound of sirens could be heard approaching. They returned to the vicinity of Ray’s body and waited for the police. Zack advised her to hold her hands up along with him, to avoid any confusion.

  Right before the cops pulled up, Lauren spoke to him.

  “You know the first night we met? I told myself you were going to land me at the hospital, the morgue or the police station,” she said.

  Zack grunted.

  “I guess I had you pegged from the get-go,” she said simply, and then the cops got out of their cars, and the question and answer period began. They were cleared within minutes, and allowed to eventually return to the apartment.

  Zack laid her in bed for the second night in a row, but this time cradled her in his arms. There was no way he was letting her go for the next several hours. He might have tried to mug her, but she stole his heart.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  She finally felt safe, and insisted she could stay at home without any trouble. She said Brenda was coming in an hour and to please get the heck out of her personal space long enough for her to take a bath.

  Zack got the message and left with a smile. He did want to clear the air with Dave.

  He brought Dave a coffee and a doughnut, and was secretly glad to see that Sandra was nowhere in sight.

  “Dave, I need to talk to you. But first, here’s the rest of what I owe you for rent,” he said.

  Dave wouldn’t take the money.

  “Let’s talk first,” Dave said. He pointed to the sofa, and he took the easy chair himself. “Go on,” he said.

  Zack rubbed the back of his neck. How to start? Where to start? He looked around the room, and his eyes fell on the gaming system.

  “That night,” he said, carefully looking at Dave to see his expression. It was neutral.

  “That night the sound of the gunfire was actually putting me on edge. I didn’t realize it until after,” he said.

  Dave frowned a little and rubbed his chin. “Okay,” he said. He gestured with his hand that Zack should keep talking.

  “I was wrong. I was having a panic attack, and I took it out on you. I can’t apologize enough, and I thank God every day nothing worse happened,” he continued.

  Dave nodded solemnly, but didn’t smile.

  “There’s more, too,” Zack said, and his voice broke a little.

  Dave sat forward.

  “That day in Afghanistan, the day the IEDs went off?” he began. “Gideon volunteered to drive. I’d been up late the night before, dinking around with a Humvee, and he knew I was tired. He took the wheel. The blast hit him first, and he never had a chance,” Zack said through tears, his voice wavering but plowing through the story. “I’m sorry every day of my life, Dave. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, and I’m sorry I’m responsible for Gideon’s death!” Zack finished and broke down into sobs.

  Dave got up and went to him, kneeling on the ground, and enfolding him in his long arms. He held him like a friend, and squeezed him like a brother. He held him until the shaking stopped and the tears subsided.

  Dave pulled away and sat up next to him.

  “Please don’t carry that burden anymore, Zack,” Dave said. “You could trace the line of fault all the way back to my mother giving birth to him, if you wanted. Don’t play that game anymore. You’ve paid enough for his death. You don’t owe anymore. And you don’t owe me any money,” he said.

  Zack started to protest.

  “Shut the hell up, Zac
k. I prorated it, for Pete’s sake,” Dave said, shoving him. “So when are you coming back? I need you bro. Sandra left my sorry hide, and I’m lonely as hell,” he said.

  Zack laughed a little.

  “I’m not sure, Dave. I need to check with someone first,” he said. “I uh, met a girl. And she’s really something. I’ve been staying at her place…long story. But I don’t know how much longer I can handle that situation,” he said with a laugh.

  Dave chuckled. “You told her you wanted to wait, didn’t you?” he asked with a smile.

  “Yeah,” Zack said with a grin.

  Dave looked him right in the eye. “Thank you for telling me everything. And I mean it. Don’t play that blame game thing. You could map any number of probabilities to his cause of death. In fact, with your background in math, you should do it sometime. It might make you feel better,” he said.

  Zack frowned and nodded, considering it.

  He stood and they shook hands and he left, feeling about a thousand pounds lighter. It was a good feeling. Almost as good of a feeling as waking up beside Lauren this morning. He hoped to be able to wake up beside her every day for the rest of his life, but first things first. He had to get involved in that treatment. He wanted to give Lauren a whole man for a husband. He was a lot closer to that ideal now than he was even a week ago, but she deserved the best. He just didn’t feel at his best yet. He hoped with Ray out of the picture for good, that he could leave her at peace. He picked up the pace as he returned to her place. He wondered what colorful phrases she might throw at him today. Her lively banter kept him on his toes and brightened his life. She truly was a light shining in his dark world. He hoped he could give her half as much as she gave him without even trying. She was perky, spunky, smart, talented, and crazier than a cat on a hot tin roof. Ha! He had to tell her that. She’d love it.