by D C Grant
sure you enjoyed it all. And if something comes of it all, you’ll be the first to know.”
“And so I should be,” Ben says and punches me playfully on the arm. I punch him back and before long we’re both wrestling on the floor, like we used to.
It feels normal.
Sandman
My aunt’s flight is in the afternoon, after school, and for once I don’t protest about going. According to the spreadsheet, Sandman’s flight arrives at 16.30. It doesn’t matter that I don’t know what he looks like, my dad made a list of his flight times and I’m keen to see if I can figure out why.
When I get home from school Mrs Rosenberg is ready to take us, except Ben has to stay at home as he has homework to do. He’s disappointed and the look on his face as we leave says it all.
We meet my aunt on the driveway to my house where she hands me the key to Mum’s car.
“Do you get to park it too?” she asks with a smile.
“Sometimes,” I say as I take the keys. “Depends on whether Dad’s home.”
My aunt just shakes her head at me as I climb into the driver’s seat and slowly ease the car forward into its usual parking space inside the garage. I switch it off, lock the door and put the keys back on the rack where they belong, wondering when next the car will be used now that Dad’s paralyzed. Will we have to get a special car? He has to get better first.
My uncle has already taken a taxi to the airport with my cousins, so it’s just my aunt, Gran and me in Mrs Rosenberg’s car. I can see that my aunt is trying not to cry. She’s sitting beside me on the back seat and she takes my hand and squeezes it.
“Your father was a good man,” she murmurs.
“He still is,” I point out.
“Yes, he is,” she says, almost to herself.
I remember Captain Gaffney saying the same thing at the funeral – why does everyone talk about my father as if he were dead?
My uncle is waiting for us at the airport, my cousins hanging onto his arms as he tries to prevent them running off. He hasn’t yet checked in and the bags sit on the trolley. I can see from the long line that they’ll have to wait a while to get to the counter.
“Hmmm, I have to go to the washroom,” I say, looking up at the time.
“Can’t you wait?” my gran says.
“No, I have to go,” I insist. “Look, they’re right here.”
“Okay then, we’ll wait here.”
I dash off before she can say anything more and disappear into the toilets, but I am only there for a second before I rush out again. I glance over but my family is not watching for me; after all it’ll be a few minutes before they expect me back from the washroom.
I take off to the part of the airport where the arrivals come through, just like my aunt and uncle did a few days ago. I look up at the arrivals board and compare it with the information from the spreadsheet that I have recorded in my head. The flight with Sandman on it has landed and is being processed along with a few others, and the arrivals hall is busy. I glance behind me. Has my family noticed that I’m missing, and how long will it be before they send out a search party?
People come through the arrivals gate and the crowd around me surges forward, people craning their necks to spot loved ones in the groups that come through. There are tears of joy, group hugs and the occasional burst of foreign language while trolleys try to push their way through and balloons and flowers add color. It’s all quite normal.
I stand as close to the front as I can, watching the people come out, just like I did while waiting for my aunt and her family to arrive. As people walk out, they search the crowd for a familiar face and smile as they recognize someone. Some of them look for signs being held by taxi drivers standing at the edge of the crowd, while others search for the signs to buses and taxis.
A man coming through the doorway catches my attention. He’s tall and well-built with a shaved head; he looks like he’s just left the Marines, a bit like Mike, in fact, and he carries a gym bag, not a suitcase. He doesn’t look around as he comes through, as if knowing that no one is there to meet him. He marches through the crowd as if he’s on an army parade ground and I know that this is Sandman, he just has to be.
I glance over again at the gate through which the passengers are coming and a figure standing there catches my eye – something about the way he moves – and I realize with a shock that it is Chan, wearing the uniform of a TSA officer – he’s supposed to be part of Homeland Security.
I glance over and see the Sandman walk through the sliding doors into the cold winter’s day. Quickly I duck away, using the crowd to hide me from both Chan and Sandman. I follow at a distance, making sure I can keep him in sight. He’s easy to shadow, and if he looks around he’s sure not to suspect a fourteen-year-old schoolboy – at least, I hope not. He stops at a car in the pick-up area and I hang back as the trunk pops open and he throws the gym bag inside before getting into the passenger seat. The car pulls out and I realize that I have seen this car before – not only seen it but traveled in it. It’s Mike’s 4x4!
I watch as the car drives off, ignoring the cold rain that begins to fall, too shocked to move under cover. I’ve seen Mike meet Chan and now he’s picked up Sandman from the airport. It isn’t possible that he’s the one responsible for everything – it just can’t be. He and Dad are friends … were friends … unless he’s involved in something illegal, something that makes him money? I think of Estelle, Mike’s wife, skinny and looking ill. She said Mike has been working overtime, but what if it isn’t overtime that’s bringing in the extra money to pay for her medicine, but something else entirely?
I have no answers, just a lot of questions. I wipe the raindrops from my face, bring the hood of my jacket up over my head and sprint back to the terminal. By now my family will have probably called security and I’ll be in big trouble. What else is new?
I’m just inside the door when I hear Gran call out, “Jason! Where have you been?”
“I … I just went outside for some fresh air.”
“You just disappeared!” She lays her hand on her chest. “Your uncle looked all over for you. Why didn’t you let us know?”
“I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Worry? I thought I was going to have a heart attack. We’ve got to get you another phone if you’re going to keep on disappearing like this.”
I agree, but until Dad wakes up and gives his authorization on the account, I am phoneless.
Gran grabs my arm and I know that I won’t be allowed out of her sight for the afternoon, which drags from that moment onward. I don’t think there is anything that slows time more than waiting for a flight to be called. Finally the flight is announced and it’s a big scene as we all say goodbye, with both my gran and my aunt crying and the cousins looking impatient, fearing that the plane will take off without them.
They disappear from sight and Gran blows her nose one last time as she visibly pulls herself together. “Right, let’s go see your dad.”
I groan silently. I just want to get home to talk to Ben about what’s happened at the airport, but I can do nothing as I get into Mrs Rosenberg’s car and we head back into the city. She drops us off at the hospital entrance and says she will return in an hour to pick me up. I’m trapped.
The captain is just coming out of Dad’s room as we walk down the corridor.
“Mrs Shaw,” he says with a smile. “And Jason, how good to see you. Your father’s doing well, they tell me. It’s only a matter of time until he comes out of the coma. That’s good news.”
Gran launches into a discussion of how precisely my father is improving and I decide to go into his room while she does so – I don’t need to hear it all. As far as I can tell there is no change from when I last visited; the same machines still beep and whirr. I place the tips of my fingers in the palm of his hand and glance over to where the captain and Gran are still in conversation, and I see the captain frown at me before he turns his attention back to Gran.
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�I need you to wake up now, Dad,” I whisper. “I was at the airport today and saw Sandman. He got into Mike’s car. But it can’t be Mike that did this to you, he’s your friend.”
There is no response from him at all. I can hear Gran and the captain winding up the conversation – at least, the captain is trying to. Should I tell the captain about Mike meeting Sandman? But then how do I explain how we got the flight numbers and the names on the passenger lists? Both the captain and the chief think Dad was up to no good; how would they react if I now told them what I had been keeping from them? Would they think I’d been lying all along?
I try running through it with Dad, even if he can’t hear me. “I found the note you put in the book, and Ben and I went to the hotel. Mike met Chan at the hotel, and he was at the airport. Did you know Chan works for the TSA? What does it mean, Dad? Is someone bringing drugs into the country? Is that why you named the file “Speed”? Is it about drugs, or something else? I wish you’d wake up, Dad, and tell me. I don’t know who to trust anymore. Not even Mike.” I hesitate and run my fingers over my father’s palm, then I say softly, “I wish I could tell someone, but who?”
I feel a movement and I pull my hand away in fright, staring at the fingers that I swore just moved.
“Dad? Dad? Can you hear me?” I wait but there is no reply, no further movement; it must have been a figment of my imagination.
“What’s the matter,
