The Will to Die

by Joe Pulizzi

  Robby dropped to the ground. “Oh my God! Oh God! My leg!” he screamed. I could barely make him out in the darkness, but his outline was curled into a ball, rocking quickly back and forth.

  “Don’t move an inch.” The voice came from the direction of the pop. I could hear the sound of footsteps. Dress shoes. I took my left arm and pushed Sam behind me.

  “That was a warning shot,” the voice said. “I need the package.”

  “What are you talking about, and who the hell are you?” I said. I was hopeful he couldn’t see what I was holding.

  “My boss says you’re smart. I’ll have to tell him he was mistaken because I can see the package I want, in your tiny little hands.”

  “How bad is it, Robby?” I whispered.

  “It’s bad, man. This dickwad shot a hole in my leg. And what did you do to my uncle?” he screamed.

  “I had to shoot your uncle,” the voice said. “I quite enjoyed that actually. It’s sort of like killing a raccoon.” The voice laughed.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” I said.

  “Look, I would have shot you by now, but I need that package and I’d rather not get blood all over it. If you pass it over like a good little boy, I’ll give you and the bitch a head start before I shoot you in the back.”

  I turned to look at Sam. I couldn’t see her eyes, but I knew she was looking at me, too. I reached out and clasped her hand. We were both shaking.

  “I’m going to do a three-count, and then I’m gonna have to shoot you, package or not. One ...”

  Before he reached two, a bright fireball of light came from behind the Tahoe, followed by what sounded like a small bomb. I wasn’t sure how it happened, but Sam and I were already on the ground, side by side, still holding hands.

  There was a squealing sound, which started softly and grew in intensity. Four steps. No, five steps running toward the squeal. Then the sound of metal sliding against blacktop.

  “William, my boy. Are you okay?” a different voice called out. Lower, with a Texas accent.

  “Jack?”

  “It’s me, boy,” Jack said. He reached down and lifted both Sam and me off the ground, then went to attend to Robby.

  “Get me some light over here,” Jack ordered.

  With trembling hands, I reached into my right front pocket and pulled out the burner phone. After a few seconds of fumbling, I found the light and pointed it at Robby.

  There was indeed a quarter-size hole in Robby’s leg. Robby just stared at me, gripping his leg.

  “He’s losing a lot of blood,” Jack said. “Sam, get over here.”

  For the first time, I noticed that Jack was carrying a rifle. He set it down on the ground and crouched to Robby’s level. Then Jack ripped off his white button-down shirt, exposing a white undershirt. “Use this, Sam. Just tie it around tight to stop the bleeding. We need to get him to a hospital yesterday.” Sam took the shirt. Jack looked into Robby’s eyes. “You take this light here and point it at your wound so Sam can tie you up.” Robby did as he was told.

  “How did you find us, Jack?” Sam asked while she was working on Robby.

  Jack didn’t answer. Then he stood up. “Do one of you have another phone with a light on it?”

  Sam took hers and tossed it to me. I turned on the light and gave it to Jack.

  “Come on, son. Let’s see what we have over here,” Jack said. I followed him.

  Jack used the light to show about three feet in front of us. We walked about ten feet, and I could see a pool of liquid. No doubt it was blood. It was starting to stream down the parking lot into tributaries. Jack lifted up the phone to follow the trail of blood. A man was lying on his side reaching down for a leg that wasn’t there anymore. What was left of the leg was splattered in a collection of debris to his left.

  “I think you got him,” I said to Jack.

  “You know, that’s the first time I’ve used that SKS since Vietnam. I forgot how much damage it can do,” Jack said. He handed me the phone and walked over to a gun four feet from the man. He picked it up and put it in his pocket. I noticed the attached silencer.

  “Who’s the guy?

  “Last name’s Jones,” Jack said. “One of Traynor’s men. He’s done a lot of bad to a lot of good people in this town.”

  I paused, looking at Jones’s mangled leg. “Look, Jack, I know you just saved our lives, but I thought you were working with the Traynors.”

  Jack stood in front of me. “Boy, I served your father for over thirty years, and I continue to serve him after his death. We have a lot to catch up on. Right now, I’m glad you’re okay.” He gave me a huge bear hug.

  “Ah, that hurts,” Robby said ten feet away. Jack and I walked back. Sam was continuing to tighten Jack’s shirt over Robby’s wound.

  “The gunshot missed the femoral artery, thank God,” Sam said.

  “Sam, my car is behind the funeral home. Go get it and bring it over here,” Jack said, giving his key to Sam. I gave the phone back to her, and she used the light to find her way through the bushes.

  I got on one side of Robby and Jack on the other as we prepared to lift him up. I heard the car behind the funeral home start.

  “Jack, I saw you sneaking into Dad’s closet last night,” I said, and we shifted Robby into place.

  Jack looked surprised. “The Traynors asked me to look for some missing journals of your father’s. How he kept the journals hidden from the Traynors I’ll never know. So last night I went through all the rooms, including the closet, because they can see and hear everything. I actually read a story or two from one of them journals while I was in there. Your father was a good writer. I’m actually supposed to be out at your father’s house now searching for them. I just needed it to look like I was on their side until you found your way. And here you are. You did good, kid.”

  Sam pulled the car to the side of Robby. Jack opened the back door of his Buick. Sam got out to help.

  “This is going to hurt a little, but we’ll do it fast, get you in there, and Sam will take you to the hospital,” Jack said.

  “No,” Robby screamed. “You can’t take me to a hospital in this area. It’s filled with white doctors and nurses. I’ll never make it out alive.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “Sam will be with you the entire time.” I looked at Sam. She was about to speak, but I said, “Jack and I are right behind you. Get Robby to the hospital. Keep the phone with you at all times. Don’t leave him alone.”

  We lifted Robby into the back of the car, shut the door, and Sam took the car up to the turnaround and brought the Buick back the other direction toward the exit. Jack and I walked over to grab Dad’s package, which was on the ground behind where Robby was shot.

  Before Sam exited the parking lot, we heard a thump-thump.

  I looked at Jack. “What was that?”

  “She ran over what’s left of Jones,” Jack said. “Remind me never to mess with that little lady.”

  Chapter 33 – Boat Storage

  I pulled out the burner phone and dialed Alan. I noticed the time had just turned midnight.

  He answered after one ring. “What’s your status?”

  “Robby was shot, and Sam is taking him to the hospital. There is one, possibly two, dead in the parking lot of the old post office, two doors down from the funeral home.”

  “Dammit, Will. I told you to stand down. For Christ’s sake.” He started talking to someone else. “We are literally less than ten minutes from your location. Do not move!”

  “Jack Miller and I will be in the parking lot of the funeral home when you arrive. I promise.”

  Alan hung up the phone. I knew I was in over my head, but at this point I didn’t care. I started walking to Rod’s car.

  “Where are you going?” Jack asked.

  I didn’t answer. I opened up the driver’s side door and used my phone light to see inside. Rod’s body was there, but the entire passenger’s side of the car was covered with blood, brain, and
skull. I didn’t examine the situation any closer. I grabbed the bag containing the guns and fireworks from the back seat and shut the door.

  “Who was that?” Jack asked.

  “That was Rod. Robby’s uncle. He was trying to help us.”

  Jack and I both heard them at the same time. Sirens. Coming our way.

  I started running back through Carol’s parking lot and made it directly behind the funeral home. I heard Jack chase after me.

  “Where are you going now?” Jack yelled.

  “We have to get out of here now,” I said. Another twenty seconds, and I reached the old garage in the back. It was locked and I had no idea where the keys were. Jack finally caught up to me, breathing hard, then bending over. “Do you have the key for this?” I asked, pointing at the lock.

  “The funeral home. Janet’s office,” he said between breaths.

  I stood staring at the front of the doors. Two large barn doors protected by a hinge and a Master Lock. The sirens were getting closer, less than a few blocks away. “No time,” I said. I took three steps back and ran at the middle of the doors as fast as I could.

  I hit the doors and fell to the ground. The pain was immediate. I did more damage to my shoulder than to the doors or the lock.

  “Son, get out of the way,” Jack said, pushing me aside, still breathing hard.

  He stood to the side and raised his SKS, pointing the rifle at the lock, but at an angle. So he doesn’t damage the cars on the inside. “Cover your ears,” he said. One second later, he fired the SKS multiple times and lit up the backyard like it was a night baseball game. When the smoke cleared, the right side of the garage door was gone.

  Without a word, we ran into the garage. The 1917 wagon was trapped in the back, but the hearse was facing out. The 1971 lime-green Cadillac Funeral Coach, the same exact one they used in the show Six Feet Under. I ran to the driver’s side and threw Dad’s package and the bag of guns in the back. Jack opened up the passenger door and slid in. I pulled down the sun visor. The keys dropped in my lap and fell between my legs. I grabbed them, threw them into the ignition, and turned forward.

  The car squelched and choked but didn’t turn over. I tried it again. Same result.

  “Come on!” I said, pushing the ignition forward and stepping on the gas simultaneously. The car coughed itself to life. I went to put it in drive but there was no gearshift to the right of my leg. I looked up and it was right in front of me, sticking out about a foot to the right of the steering wheel. After a couple fumbles from reverse to neutral, I found the D and punched the gas pedal.

  The left front of the Cadillac cleared the garage nicely, but I hit the right side and smashed it on impact with what remained of the door. I looked left and could see the cruiser lights entering the post office parking lot. I took a hard left turn and came around the other direction, rumbling over a patch of grass, through another parking lot, and into the back of a 7-Eleven. I found the light switch on the lower left side by my knee and pulled it toward me. Only the left beam of the hearse came on.

  I passed two dumpsters on the right and took a back driveway that led north, away from the sirens and followed the same road north for three blocks.

  “Where do we go now? The hospital?” I asked, half talking to myself and half asking Jack. I wanted to get to Robby and Sam as quickly as possible.

  “Turn right at the next stop sign,” Jack said. “We need to collect ourselves a bit and figure out the next move.” I did as he said. “Make a left here.” I did.

  It looked like some kind of large storage facility for boats. There was a twenty-five-foot Bayliner on a hitch to our right. “Go straight for a few. Okay, now pull down this narrow row to your right.” I turned off the Cadillac’s remaining headlight.

  There wasn’t much more clearing than two feet on either side of the Cadillac. I pulled forward, going about ten miles an hour. We reached a set of doors on the right. “Okay, stop here,” Jack said.

  “Where are we?”

  “This is my boat storage.”

  “I didn’t know you had a boat.”

  “I don’t. I decided to buy the storage first and the boat second,” he said, slithering out the door. I did the same on my side. He closed the door and looked at me from over the Cadillac. “That was fifteen years ago. Still no boat. Go figure. Now I use this place when I don’t want to go home or have exceeded my time at the funeral home. So I’m here most of the time.”

  There were two doors on the right side. Jack approached the first, put a code into the keypad, and it opened. He flipped on the light switch. I followed him in and went to close the door behind me.

  “No, no” he said. “The front door is manual. You take the hearse around to the front, and I’ll let you in.”

  I walked back out to the car and restarted the Cadillac. Before I moved, I texted Sam and told her we’d be delayed and to send me updates.

  I shifted into drive and slowly pulled forward. About twenty feet up, there was an opening. I took it right. Another forty feet up was a larger drive and I turned again. Jack was pulling down on chains as I approached. The door was rising. Jack must have wanted a small yacht because his storage unit was huge. Easily fifteen feet wide and another forty feet deep. I made a right, and Jack directed me in. I pulled the hearse forward about ten feet, and Jack put up both his hands to stop me. I turned off the ignition, and Jack pulled the chains in the opposite direction to close the storage door.

  The left side of the facility housed a desk and chair, a small refrigerator, multiple standing lights, and a secondhand couch with an ottoman. “Nice digs,” I said. Jack leaned over to start the coffee machine. The burner phone rang.

  It was Alan.

  “Where the fuck are you?”

  “Had to go. Couldn’t be avoided. We heard the sirens and left as fast as possible.”

  “I’m standing in front of the shed behind the funeral home. Someone blew the doors off.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Did you just call to yell at me?”

  “Look, Will, my team doesn’t even think you exist right now. We need to sit down right now and talk this over.”

  “I’m happy to chat with your team now over the phone. Tell them we’re in the process of trying not to die at the moment. The dead guy in the parking lot is one of Traynor’s men. His name is Jones. The dead guy in the car was Robby’s uncle.” I was still breathing heavily and couldn’t get my heart to slow down. “What’s the update on your end?”

  “The tech team is trying to follow the money from the insurance companies you gave us. Whoever it is, they’re very savvy. The money seems to be in five places at once. But the Columbus guys are good. They’ll find something.”

  “What about the two agents in Pennsylvania? Are they protecting my daughter?”

  “I haven’t heard back yet. They’re supposed to check in shortly.”

  “I don’t feel good about any of this, Alan. Get ahold of them now!”

  “You’re not in position to give me orders. I understand you’re under a bit of stress, but we don’t just jump into situations like these without all the details.”

  “That’s great to know. While you’re looking for details, my entire family is going to be killed.” I paused. “Call me back when you have something good to tell me.” I ended the call.

  Jack had two cups of coffee in his hands. He gave one to me and sat on the couch, seemingly without a care in the world. I sat on the ottoman in front of him.

  “Look, Jack. You’ve always been like family to me, but right now I don’t know who to trust, and it’s been a little crazy today. I need to know what you know, and I need it now.”

  Jack took in a deep breath and then breathed out. “You don’t have any cigarettes on you, do you?”

  “You quit smoking.”

  “Feels like a most appropriate time to start back up actually,” Jack said, scratching the side of his face. He took a sip of coffee and leaned back. “Give me the short version of what
you know about the Traynors, and I’ll fill in the gaps best I can.”

  So I went through the details again. Jack had a feeling my father committed suicide but wasn’t sure until I told him. Jack knew he was up to something that night. He confirmed the life settlements scheme and the targeting of minorities. He was unaware of the samples Dad was collecting and, of course, didn’t know about Jared or that the poor guy was killed a few hours ago.

  “The Traynors control the town through surveillance, but not just in this city. I’m not sure how sophisticated it is, but it’s advanced enough that they have pictures of my son, his wife, and his family in places around Dallas, where they live. Last year, I was sent a care package warning me to stay in line or else, and it included a picture of them with red X’s over their faces. They did the same with your father, as well as everyone else in SA.”

  I asked him about Janet and her involvement. My heart sank while listening to him. Apparently, Janet had been seeing the elder Traynor, in the romantic sense, since SA began. As the minority eradication plan started to take root, it was Janet’s plants that provided the poison, with Janet herself taking the lead on the poisoning itself.

  “Your Uncle Dan and I called her the Grim Reaper, believe it or not,” Jack said. “She volunteers at all the nursing homes in the area, especially Blessings.”

  My thoughts went to Mr. Davies.

  Then I told him about Uncle Dan. He didn’t know.

  We sat for a few minutes. It was all so horrible.

  Then I stood and picked up Dad’s evidence bag from Jack’s desk. I pulled back the tab and removed the contents, taking inventory on the desk. Two black journals, just like all his other ones from the funeral home, and an orange folder. “Okay, Jack. Let’s see what Dad got me for Christmas.”

  Chapter 34 – Deepfake

  The first journal looked like the Grail Diary. It was filled with scribbles and notes and inserted pages from magazines and newspapers. I didn’t know exactly what I was holding, so I kept everything like it was.

  The second journal was dated, neat, and clean, just like my father’s other journals. I flipped to the last few pages. The journal covered two years of activity. There were some numbers on the last page. I flipped back to the front. The first date was just before my mom’s car accident.