The look on Tom's face when Hawk walked back into the house was almost worth it. I pretended not to notice, but Tom looked like he'd just shit a live chicken. Hawk waved at him and walked upstairs like nothing was amiss, carrying a garment bag.
It's six in the morning and we're getting ready. A week of preparations and it's finally time. I've dressed, not in business attire, but in a sun dress and blouse, light and airy and I'm glad to have it on. Much of the day will be spent outside, and it's the hottest day of the summer so far. The forecast calls for it to top one hundred degrees, and the humidity hasn't let up.
Worse, there's a thunderstorm warning for this afternoon. We rented the fire hall, though, so we can move inside if it starts to rain. A good number of people will show up to this. There will be free hot dogs again, for one thing. Thankfully I won't be the one offering them this time.
May emerges from her room in a similar outfit to mine, her hair tucked back in a loose ponytail. I head downstairs with her and find Lance lazing about at the dining room table, slouching in an unbuttoned suit jacket, his tie loosened up. He glares at us as we walk past and wait in the kitchen. I can't help but pace, rubbing my arms. Tom is in his office and Mom is in the foyer, reading a book and smiling softly to herself, her foot tapping with excitement.
Hawk descends the stairs.
Damn, he looks good in a suit. Perfectly tailored, it accents his build, his big shoulders and trim waist. When he looks at me, I feel my knees tremble, and May gives me a tight-lipped smile. Only a hint of his tattoos can be seen around his cuffs. He's shaved and actually combed his hair. I have a weird urge to go over and rub my palm on his cheek.
I'm staring, damn. I turn away and walk to the back door and look out over the yard.
"Everyone ready?" Tom asks in a high, cheery voice.
No one answers, of course we're all ready.
"We'll take my truck."
The truck seats six. Three up front, three in the back. I push May to climb in the front and ride between Tom and my mother, and climb in next to Lance.
Tom looks at me.
Fuck, I have to sit next to Hawk. It was either this or sandwich May between Hawk and Lance, and I'm not putting her anywhere near him. I make sure to turn my nose up at Hawk and look away from him, arms folded across my chest, as he gets in next to me and pulls the door shut. Lance wiggles and pushes against my side, leans back, and rests his arm along the bench seat, behind me.
"Got enough room, sis?"
I almost snap fuck off before it dies in my throat.
"I'm fine," I mutter.
At least it isn't a long drive. Tom starts the engine and turns the air on full blast, and it's barely cold by the time we arrive. Hawk steps out and I slip out Lance's side, trying to avoid them both. May rushes to stand next to me before we all head inside.
There's work to do. Hawk takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over a chair, and to my surprise, Lance joins in as Tom does the same. The three of them work in silence, setting up the red-white-and-blue bunting and the big Richardson for Mayor sign up on the stage. It's sweaty work, and I'm glad I don't have to join in. Instead I help my mother, talk to the soda cart and hot dog cart people when they arrive, and coordinate all the setup.
I've been running to meet with people and making phone calls all week setting this up, now I have to coordinate everything. It's a supposed to be like a big picnic, and a chance for Tom to schmooze with all the local politicians and give a speech. By and large, it's all pointless. He's running unopposed. While I'm directing the setup of the taco truck, trying to keep them from digging big ruts in the firehouse's yard, a man walks up to me.
"Where's your stepfather?"
"I'll handle it," I sigh.
"I'm Preston Greenfield, from the city elections office."
I've never met him. Skinny, glasses, hunched shoulders. He reminds me of a bird.
"We've spoken on the phone. What did you need him for?"
He pushes his glasses up his nose. "I need to inform your father that another candidate has entered the race."
"What?" I blurt out. "The deadline for filing was in June."
"Ah, well." He shuffles a stack of papers in his hand. "The city charter has an exception to the deadline rule in cases where only one candidate has formally entered the race, in the, ah, interest of fairness. The paperwork’s all in order, everything’s perfectly legal and above board. He has an opponent now."
"You're joking. Who?"
Before he can answer me, a black box truck rolls past, then another, and another. They pull into the vacant lot opposite the firehall and stop, creaking on their suspensions.
The door of the first truck swings open and Jacob steps out, in a shirt and tie. Jennifer gets out of the other side in a long floral pattern dress and half a dozen men step out of the trucks, open the back of each one, and start carrying out folding picnic tables.
A pair of them drive two posts into the ground, and unfurl between them a great big green banner that reads KANE FOR MAYOR.
You have to be fucking kidding me.
Hawk appears at my side.
"Uh," he says.
"Uh," I agree.
Hawk ducks away from me, and just in time. Tom strides over and scowls, barking at Greenfield.
"What the hell’s that? What’re they doing?"
Greenfield repeats his whole story about the paperwork, which Tom snatches from him to flip through it. His lips pull back in a sneer and he looks angrier than I've ever seen him. He's always calm, but not now.
He crumples the papers in his hands.
"You show up now and tell me about this?"
Greenfield recoils, raising his hands in protest. "Sir, there's nothing I can do. It's all legal. He has the signatures."
People are starting to show up, and they're heading across the street, not to us. Jacob must have called every other food truck within fifty miles; within minutes there's a burger truck, a barbecue truck, Tex-Mex and Chinese, and the street is filling up with cars. As I watch the people streaming in, it hits me. Everybody over there helping set up is young, like our age or younger. High school students, recent graduates. There must be fifty people already, all wearing green t-shirts.
They brought their parents, too. In half an hour the lot across the street looks full, bustling with activity.
Ours… not so much. Then again, it's not supposed to start until eleven. They might be the only ones who show up.
"Get back to work," Tom snaps. "You, get out of my sight," he hisses at Greenfield.
The little man leaves the paperwork with Tom and scurries off.
I'm going to have to slip off and head back to the house sometime soon. This might be the distraction I need.
That may very well be the point.
I have the thumb drive Jennifer gave me stashed in my purse. I don't need much time. Problem is, I'm going to have to walk back to the house. Tom is walking across the road. I check my phone; it's almost eleven, things are getting started. I have to move now.
Hawk catches me as I walk away from the lot next to the fire hall.
"You're going?" I nod. "Okay, I'll go with you."
"No, stay here. If it looks like he's going to notice I'm gone, distract him. I have to hurry."
He sets his jaw, then nods. I turn and walk, looking back to see if anyone has spotted me. I'm in the clear so far. Once I make it to the corner, I break into a run, glad I wore sneakers and not flats or worse, heels. I can't go full out because of the damn dress, but it will take me maybe ten minutes to run back to the house. Saturday in Paradise Falls means no one on the street, especially once I make it to our block.
Panting, I run around behind the house, dart up the back step, and head straight for the office. Of course he locked the door, but once when he gave me his keys to take the car out and get it washed, I had a copy of everything made, so that's no problem. I head straight for his desk and shudder as I sit down in his chair. It feels weird sitting here lo
oking at the rest of the office, behind his big black monster of a desk.
The computer is off to the side.
When I turn it on, it asks for the password.
It's Alexis.
It works, it's that simple. I fish the thumb drive out of my pocket and stick it in the computer. The mouse cursor turns into a little wheel, and the drive's window pops open. Deep breath. I double click on the icon and the screen flashes. It comes back up with a black box and a blinking cursor. Something must be wrong. I'm about to close it when it fills up with green text scrolling quickly down the screen, the scroll bar on the side blurring as it moves.
Then the window closes and a progress bar pops up and says connecting to host. The mouse icon keeps spinning, and the progress bar shoots from one end to the other and fills. I let out a long sigh and reach for the drive. Then another progress bar pops up.
Creating clone… est. time 15 minutes
Oh, come on. Jennifer did warn me this might take a few minutes. My foot starts to tap almost immediately and I bite my lip. It feels like the bar hasn't moved at all, but it says 2%. Then 3, 4, finally 10. I stand and pace behind the desk, rubbing my arms. I'm sweaty from running here but it's freezing in the office. I swear I can see my breath. I walk back and forth, back and forth, from the desk to the chairs and cocktail table, back and forth. I hear the computer ding and turn to rush over. It's not even half done. Tom got an email.
Lance stands in the door, grinning.
"Hey there," he says softly, stepping into the office. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing," I snatch the thumb drive. "Tom wanted me to grab a file for him."
"What file?"
"It's not important."
Lance moves closer.
"Funny how you just slipped off like that. I followed you back here."
"Yeah, I gathered that. I need to get back before the speech."
I move past him and he grabs my arm.
"Let go of me, Lance."
"Now, hold on."
"Get off of me," I hiss.
I slap him, backhanded. He doesn't let go. He pulls my arm, and with his other hand, grabs my neck, digging his fingers into my throat.
I can't breathe!
He's heavier than I am. He just throws his weight at me and pushes me down. It feels like I'm falling forever and then my head bounces on the carpet and I see stars.
The doorknob clicks and twists, and Lance freezes, looks back. I claw at his face with my free hand, dragging my nails into his cheek until I feel his skin peeling, and he screams, and drives his fist into my stomach. All the air blasts out of my lungs and when I try to pull in more, it won't come. I try to roll out from under him, but he's too heavy. Get off me. Get off me.
The door shudders.
"Open the fucking door," Hawk bellows.
Lance doesn't make a sound. His cheek his bleeding, streaks of red running down his chin. A drop of blood quivers and falls, and lands on my chest.
The door bursts open and slams against the bookcases, a great chunk of the stained hardwood, doorknob and all, flying across the room. It hits the desk and thumps to the floor. Hawk steps in, crosses the room in three strides and grabs Lance's ankle, and drags him off of me. Hawk fists Lance's hair in his hand and pulls him up, Lance screaming as he grabs at Hawk's wrist. Hawk doesn't say a word, he just spins around and drags Lance with him and Lance's face hits the edge of one of the bookshelves with a soft, meaty crack.
He staggers back and his nose is bent and twisted, blood gushing over his face. He looks at Hawk and raises his hands and starts flailing, and Hawk rears back and kicks him, drives his heel into Lance's stomach. Lance topples back over the cocktail table, knocking it over as his head thumps on the floor. Hawk picks up the table by the edge and flips it and it topples the side chair over with it, and he puts the toe of his shoe on Lance's crotch, and levers his foot forward.
Lance screams.
"Stob!" he pleads, his voice thick with blood and twisted by his broken nose. "Sob plead!"
Hawk digs his foot in, and Lance screams.
Hawk reaches down, grabs his tie, and pulls.
Lance's eyes go wide and he struggles against Hawk's hand as the tie tightens around his neck.
"Stop!" I scream.
Hawk looks at me.
"Don't kill him."
"Why the fuck not?"
"Hawk, he's your brother… please."
He looks at me, and his expression softens.
Hawk's fingers open. He draws his foot back, and Lance rolls on his side, tugging the tie loose from his neck. He takes a deep, ragged breath. Hawk fishes through his pockets, and pulls out a cell phone, tosses it to me.
"We have to go, now. Text May, tell her to get to the end of the block. We're picking her up."
"But-"
"We're leaving," Hawk says, finally. "You did what you had to do. Is the computer done?"
I stumble over to it. "Yeah, it's done."
I yank the drive out.
Lance moans, and mumbles something. Hawk prods his stomach with his shoe.
"Let's go. Now."
He takes my arm, and when we're out of the office he says, "Are you hurt?"
"I bumped my head and he punched me in the stomach. But I think I'm okay."
Hawk slips his arm under my legs and lifts me up from the floor, kicks the back door open and carries me out. He pushes the front seat of the Honda forward and lowers me into the back seat.
"Stay back here. May has to jump in the front when we get her. We need to put as much distance between us and Paradise Falls as we can."
"We should go to Jennifer and Jacob's place."
"Let's get May first. Text her."
I nod, and send a quick message, just tell her to get away from the rally and get to the corner so we can pick her up. Hawk yanks his tie off and drives, rolling his sleeves up as we go. I curl up in the back seat, trying not to retch. Hawk takes a wide route, crossing over Commerce Street well below the firhall and drives up behind it. May spots us and runs to the car as he pulls to a stop, and yanks the door open.
"What the hell is… oh my God," she looks at me. "Is that blood?"
I look at my hand and my dress. "It's not mine."
May blinks. Hawk grabs her arm and pulls her into the car. May pulls the door shut with a loud slam and takes off.
"What happened?"
"We're leaving," Hawk says. "Right now."
"Can I get my bag?"
"No, we have to go right this minute."
"Alex?"
"I'm okay," I sigh, and sit up.
May sits sideways in the seat and stares at me.
"Hawk, let's go to the safehouse."
"We could be hundreds of miles from here by dark," he says. "You have almost a full tank of gas. We'll take turns driving. The further we get, the better."
I pull out my phone and call Jennifer.
She picks up on the third ring.
"Alexis?" she says. "People have noticed your absence. You-"
"Listen,” I say, and tell her what happened.
"Go to the safehouse."
"Hawk's driving. He thinks we should just run."
"Let me talk to him."
"Hawk?"
He sighs and takes the phone, presses it to his ear.
"Yeah. Yeah I know, but the further we… I know he won't stop looking for us. Yes, he'll file a police report on May…. I know, we can't… that doesn't matter, I have some cash…" He trails off. "He can? Freeze my accounts? Christ. Damn it. Fine, we'll go to your place."
He hands back the phone.
"Where are you now?" Jennifer asks when I press the phone to my ear.
I tell her roughly where we are, and she starts giving me directions. I feed them to Hawk.
Hawk
Now
I drum my fingers on the wheel as I drive.
I was expecting another gas station, but the safehouse turns out to be… a house. A quaint farmhouse, actually
.
"It's green?" I say.
Alexis nods. "Yeah, she says it's the green one. We're in the right place."
We've been driving for maybe forty-five minutes. It's still daylight.
The house is low and broad, two floors, a farmhouse maybe fifty or sixty years old, big and airy with a wraparound porch and a peaked roof. Behind it there's a barn, and I drive around the back through tall grass, get out, and grunt as I haul the big doors open. Alexis and May emerge from the car and stand outside as I roll it in, close the doors, and join them in the backyard.
This was a working farm at some point, but now it's just tall grass as far as they eye can see, rolling and rolling up to a wall of corn so far away it's just a straight line of green from an artist's brush, dragged across the horizon.
"We're here," Alexis says into her phone. "Yeah, I'll call back. Yes. Thank you." She sighs. "She says there's clothes and supplies inside."
"Good."
There'd better be. We have nothing but the clothes on our backs and the contents of our pockets, so that'd be my wallet, a couple of phones, whatever Alexis is carrying, and I don't think May bothered to take her purse.
"Key's under a fake rock," Alexis sighs.
I walk beside her to look for it. I spot it immediately, draw out the key and walk up to the back door.
The kitchen is a little dated, and it's dark and smells faintly of mothballs and dust. I flick on the lights, though, and they work, and a ceiling fan starts turning. The place has air conditioning and it's blessedly cool inside. May walks through the kitchen while Alexis bolts the back door and leans on it, shaking.
I gather her up in my arms and she presses against me, shaking like a leaf.
Very, very softly, she begins to cry.
"It's okay," I murmur.
"Are we going to make it?" she whispers. "Is this it? Are we free?"
"I don't know."
Alexis wriggles in my arms and I loosen my grip. She turns around in my embrace, slides her arms around me and rests her head on my chest. She still has dried blood under her nails and there's a stain on her dress. Lance bled all over my arm. Just the thought of him and I want to choke the life out of him again. Alexis was right. I was going to kill him. I'd kill anyone who laid a hand on her like that. I'd kill them all.
Hawk Page 19
