Justin let out a heavy sigh and grinned. It lit up his face, and Lance for the first time realized how handsome the boy was. No wonder Bridget likes him, he thought, if he gives her that smile. He pulled back his hand. “Bridget’s lucky to have you.”
Justin almost blushed, and looked away in embarrassment. “Thanks, man. She’s pretty cool.”
Lance eyed him searchingly. “Are we falling for her, methinks?” He grinned.
Justin raised his eyes and looked at Lance, and grinned right back. “Methinks so, yeah.”
“That’s awesome,” Lance said with conviction, and he meant it. Bridget was an amazing girl and she deserved someone who could love her the way she needed. “Now let’s get back ’fore our food gets cold.”
Justin grinned again, and they returned to their family to finish out a fun, joyful evening.
†††
Later, in their room, lying atop their beds, Lance and Ricky thought back on the day, and considered its ramifications. They’d likely pissed off some of the members of Congress, but they’d known there were a certain number who would never support them no matter what. Their hope was that maybe they’d at least gotten most of those people thinking about the CBOR. At the very least, they expected all the men and women with children to read it so they wouldn’t look so bad in front of their own kids, especially since their kids had probably seen them admit on TV just how out of touch they were. It was a beginning, they knew, the first major salvo in a much larger and more complicated war.
As a rule, neither boy wore a shirt to bed, only workout shorts, and this trip was no exception.
“Don’t let your fool ass faint while checking out my abs,” Lance said with a chuckle as he slipped beneath the covers of his soft, cool bed, while Ricky slid into his own. The night was warm so they kept the air-conditioner on low.
Ricky smirked. “Yeah, right, you just don’t wanna admit my chest is bigger than yours.”
“In your dreams, dumbass,” Lance shot back with a grin.
Ricky laughed. “You’re always in my dreams, fool. Didn’t you know that?”
Lance smiled, feeling warmth fill him. “And you’re in mine. Fool.”
They laughed and reached up to turn out their night-table lamps. In the dark there was silence a moment, punctuated by the steady hum of the air whizzing out of the wall unit.
“Hey, dumbass,” Lance mumbled after a moment. “Don’t let me forget our skateboards tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry, dumber ass,” came Ricky’s voice floating through the darkness. “I’ll remember.”
Both of them chuckled and settled into their pillows. Exhaustion soon pulled them under and they fell sound asleep.
†††
The boys woke to their phone alarms chirping and rose to get showered and ready for their tour of Washington. Unlike the day before, they felt relaxed and calm since nothing was expected of them. Today they would be regular kids on vacation, and it felt liberating not having the weight of the world on their shoulders.
Lance insisted Ricky shower first so he could examine the map of Washington he’d gotten from the concierge. Of course, seeing the other boy step from the bathroom clad only in a towel was an added bonus that Lance didn’t mind. As always, the sight of Ricky’s beautiful face and body nearly took his breath away, and sent his heart fluttering into overdrive.
Ricky chuckled at Lance’s openmouthed expression. “What? Too much hotness this early in the morning?”
“Yeah.” Lance grinned. “At least till I come out wearing a towel.”
They both laughed and then Lance pushed past him to enter the bathroom.
They met everyone else by the elevators and descended to the atrium for breakfast. They had all watched portions of the news the night before to gauge reaction to the boys’ congressional appearance, and the debate raged on. Many callers to Bill O’Reilly or Sean Hannity were initially against the CBOR, but expressed a favorable impression of Lance and Ricky from their speech, and promised to give the amendments another look-see. Some of the MSNBC pundits lamented the fact that there were no guarantees in the CBOR that kids could turn in their parents for harming the environment, which got the boys to shaking their heads in amazement. Like they had told the Congress, too many people had an extreme agenda while most Americans lived their lives in the middle.
Edwin bounded into the lobby precisely at nine a.m. and ebulliently escorted them to the waiting limo. Lance found the guy a funny combination of nerd and goofball, and yet he seemed to be extremely efficient at his job. He could see why Cairns liked the intern, but there was still something about the way he’d be eyeing Lance and Ricky when he thought neither was looking, something disconcertingly familiar. Maybe, Lance decided, he just doesn’t care much for boys who love boys. Oh, well...
Ryan expressed surprise that no Secret Service agents would be accompanying them, but Edwin grinned and shrugged. “The senator called them off. Thought they might call more attention to you than you want.”
Ryan thought that was probably true, but wondered if the senator had cleared it with the president first. He considered calling The White House, but decided he was perhaps being overcautious. They’d be in public all day, surrounded by tourists, and the kids carried their bows and quivers of arrows if the need should arise to use them. And, of course, he was armed.
For their part, Lance and Ricky preferred not having the creepy, robotic guys in black sunglasses shadowing them everywhere they went. The boys brought their skateboards as promised, though so far the trip had been uneventful and Lance considered the possibility that Merlin might have been wrong. His visionary skills were still not back to where they should be, and all he’d seen were skateboards. Maybe, Lance thought, he saw me ollie over the Washington Monument.
The thought drew a smile to his face as they slipped into the cool luxury of the limo and set off on their tour. Everyone was dressed casual as it was going to be hot and humid according to the weather report. Lance and Ricky wore shorts and skater tank tops, with beanies and big sunglasses to hide a large portion of their faces. They laughed and joked about the other having chicken legs, but Esteban commented that they looked bigger and more buff.
“You’re growing up, little carnales,” he joked as they settled in for the ride, and the boys shoved each other around as usual.
They cruised by Ford’s Theatre and the Peterson House where President Lincoln had been shot, and where he’d died. It was a somber moment for Lance. He had a sudden, irrational premonition of his own death, and quickly shrugged it off.
Edwin took them to the National Archives where they got to see the actual Declaration of Independence and Constitution. Both were housed in airtight, heat and cold-regulated glass enclosures to preserve the integrity of the documents. Other tourists gathered around, as well, but for Lance and Ricky it was a seminal moment in their lives to view the original document they now sought to amend.
They stopped briefly for lunch at a hamburger place Edwin favored, and all the boys, the younger and the older, ate enough food to make Reyna shake her head.
Lance gave her a mock scowl and flexed his right arm. “Hey, sis, we’re growing boys, right Este?”
“You got it, carnal,” he replied and they bumped fists. After lunch, the limo driver parked not far from the Lincoln Memorial and everyone headed in that direction since, as Edwin joked to Lance, “You’re the young Mr. Lincoln, after all.” That shiver of fear ran up Lance’s back once again, and Ricky, walking beside him, noticed the change immediately.
“You okay, Lance?”
Lance looked over, the premonition fading. “Yeah. Just a weird feeling.”
Ricky grinned. “You mean just a dumbass feeling, don’t you?”
Lance grinned and mimed a punch, and they kept walking. The temperature was already in the eighties and it was humid. The boys had bought bottles of water and swigged them as they walked. The skateboards became cumbersome with their bows and quivers, and made taki
ng pictures with their phones that much more of a hassle. Edwin had informed them that skateboard riding was forbidden anywhere near the reflecting pool or national monuments, and expressed curiosity about why the boys were carrying them. Lance simply said they completed the disguise and left it at that. Their bows and quivers, as well as the two obvious Indian boys, did draw the attention of a number of tourists, but thus far no one had recognized the group for who they were.
The Lincoln Memorial was immense, and looked to Lance like a massive Greek temple with towering stone columns surrounding it and a steep rise of stairs into the inner sanctum. Within sat the titan-sized statue of a pensive Lincoln, arms laid out along the stone armrests, eyes gazing outward at the city beyond as though still guarding the Union like he’d done during the Civil War.
After ascending the numerous steps and entering the shadowy interior, Lance simply stopped, Ricky beside him, and stared up at the gargantuan statue in awe.
“Wow,” they both heard Reyna utter as she moved to Ricky’s side and tilted her head up at the solemn, bearded stone face. Surrounding Lincoln, carved into the walls, was the text of his Gettysburg Address and passages from other speeches. Tourists milled around, gazing at the words and staring up at the statue, but the overall effect of the monument was one of reverence, and almost no one spoke.
Reyna pulled out her camera and asked Ryan to get some pictures of all of them standing in front of the statue, which he gladly did. Then she smiled mischievously. “And now I need a few with just the young Mr. Lincoln and the old Mr. Lincoln together.”
Moved by the statue and still feeling that odd premonition about his ultimate fate matching that of the sixteenth president, Lance hesitated.
“Please?” Reyna begged. “We have to send one to Mayor Soto.”
Lance nodded and Ricky gave him the look, so he stepped beneath the stone chair and Reyna crouched down so she could shoot up and capture both faces. Lance didn’t smile and ended up looking almost as solemn and thoughtful as Lincoln.
When she was done, Lance hurried back to Ricky, fighting to shake off the chill that kept rippling up and down his back. As hot as the temperature was, he felt cold inside.
From here, they made their way past hordes of tourists along the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, a shiny black wall inscribed with the name of every man who had died in that conflict. Some people, Lance noted, were asking a park worker to trace over the name of a loved one onto a piece of paper, so they could take it home, he supposed.
After that, they skirted the Lincoln Memorial once more and passed though the Korean War Memorial, a creepy scene of metallic, realistic-looking soldiers trudging through rice paddies and fields. All of these memorials, amazing though they were, sent more chills down Lance’s back, for they were all devoted to wars and people who’d died before their time.
From here they passed through the World War II Memorial circle with its fountain in the center. The circular wall was made up of fifty stone pillars representing each of the fifty states that had sent soldiers to war.
From there the group followed a large number of tourists along the curving pathways to the five hundred fifty-five foot tall Washington Monument, at the top of which, Edwin told them, “You can see thirty miles in any direction. It’s so cool.”
Because Edwin had connections through the senator, he’d already gotten tickets for the group to ascend to the top viewing windows, and finally Lance began to shake off the melancholy sense of dread that had been plaguing him since Ford’s Theater.
The boys wanted to walk up all eight hundred ninety-seven steps to the top, but Ryan nixed that plan. “Not going to happen, boys.”
Even Reyna sided with him, so they all gathered into the elevator for the seventy second ride to the top. Dakota looked nervous being in the small space, and Kai offered him a grin of support.
Lance and Ricky stood silently together at one of the small openings around the top, in awe of the breathtaking view. Spread out below was the World War II Memorial, the vast reflecting pool, and in the distance the Lincoln Memorial. Beyond that sprawled the Potomac River, with two bridges spanning it and the city of Washington laid out for miles on either side. Without thinking, their hands found each other and squeezed as they looked out in amazement. So enraptured were they by the view that neither noticed a couple and their teenaged son eyeing their handholding with disgust.
Reyna and Esteban mad-dogged the family something fierce until they chose another viewpoint and left the boys alone. Once everyone had looked out each of the four sides it was time for the elevator ride back down, to make room for the next group.
The afternoon sun beat down on them mercilessly. Rather than walk all the way back, Edwin called the limo driver and told him to bring the car down Constitution Avenue to pick them up. They’d take the pathways across a large expanse of grass and meet the limo in a small parking area just off Constitution.
Thus far, only a few of the tourists had recognized Lance, and even then had only hesitantly asked if it was him. Kai and Dakota continued to warrant many stares for their obvious Indian hair and bows and arrows, but for the most part people were so engrossed in sightseeing that the most famous boys in the world hid in plain sight all afternoon. Now, as they trudged along the winding paths toward the parking lot, Lance and Ricky settled into a chattering conversation with Kai and Dakota about what they’d seen. Both Indians agreed that George Washington had been pretty fair to Indian tribes and mostly kept his end of a treaty. But as a whole they felt strange seeing all this history and knowing that it had come about by trampling over their ancestors.
Lance and Ricky digested their assessment and realized that history, like everything else, was in the eye of the beholder, and there were always two sides to every story.
All in all, everyone had enjoyed their day, and seeing these impressive monuments helped solidify the reality of the country in their young minds, a reality that was, at least on paper, a great idea, but which needed constant vigilance to make certain it didn’t spiral out of control.
As they arrived at the small, paved parking lot connecting the monument area to Constitution Avenue, the limo had not yet arrived, so they stood around chatting. Lance kept eyeing his skateboard anxiously, that premonition wafting over him again. Feeling suddenly anxious and uncertain, he met Ricky’s eyes. “Let’s skate around right here so you can practice more.”
Ricky grinned. “Why? You don’t think I’m as good as you?”
Lance laughed nervously. “C’mon, fool.”
So they set their sunglasses on the hood of a car, dropped their boards and began skating around the mostly empty lot. Edwin was about to say something when Ryan flashed his Special Agent badge and said it was fine. Edwin fell silent and watched the two boys like everyone else.
Ryan felt apprehensive. He knew about Merlin’s warning, but so far nothing had happened, and that worried him even more. Merlin might not have specifics, but he was never wrong when it came to the big picture. The other shoe would drop, Ryan knew, but when and where?
Lance and Ricky skated lazily along the roadway in the direction of Constitution Avenue and Lance joked, “Wanna see me ollie over those cars out there?”
He pointed to the busy, six-lane thoroughfare just ahead.
Ricky laughed. “Sure. And then you can watch me ollie over one of the painted white lines.”
Lance laughed. Something suddenly whizzed past his arm and he heard a thump behind him. Startled, he whirled around on his board to look at the parked car, stunned to see a large nail embedded in the soft metal of the driver’s door.
Ricky rolled over and squinted at the nail. “The hell?”
Another whizzing sound whipped past Ricky’s head and both boys heard a thump from the wooden fence separating the monument area from the street.
They spun around to where Ryan and the others stood, apparently unawares. Then Lance saw them. Men on motorcycles, clad in black with visored helmets covering their heads and f
aces. There were five, all heading their way across the expanse of grass from the direction of 15th Street NW, and coming on fast. All of them held long barreled guns.
“Shit, Ricky,” Lance exclaimed, “they’re shooting nails!”
“Oh, hell,” Ricky whispered as Lance raised his hands to wave at his family.
“Nino, behind you! Take cover!” he screamed.
And then four of the motorcycle men took aim at Ryan and the others and began firing. The group scattered, ducking behind parked cars for cover. The fifth cyclist headed straight for Lance and Ricky.
Lance grabbed Ricky and pulled. “C’mon, now’s the time to ollie over them cars!” They bolted forward on their boards, Lance deftly weaving from side to side. “Weave in case he shoots!”
Ricky did his best to copy Lance’s movements, but he was nowhere near as proficient. Another nail sailed past his head and out into the traffic just ahead. Then the boys were at the sidewalk, facing a wall of oncoming cars on their side and a steady flow going the opposite way. Lance turned. The cyclist was gaining, arm up and ready to fire. He glanced at the oncoming traffic. A UPS truck was almost on them.
“C’mon!” He grabbed Ricky, pushed him out onto Constitution Avenue, and followed. Heart pounding with terror, Ricky kicked and pushed his board out into the street, Lance pounding along right beside him. They only just cleared the UPS truck as it sped past behind them, but even over the traffic noise they could hear the thunk, thunk, thunk as three nails embedded themselves into the side of the truck.
Suddenly cars going the opposite way started honking and swerving as the boys pushed and weaved their way through them. Two mounted D.C. police officers happened to be trotting down the sidewalk and spotted the boys disrupting traffic. One of them called out, “Hey, you kids, get the hell outta the street!”
And The Children Shall Lead Page 28
