A Guardian of Innocents (34 page)

“C’mon. I’ll help you down the stairs.”

“What stairs?” I asked her, but saw there was another set at the end of the catwalk behind her.

She took my hand, lifting me to my feet. I realized now as we stood together, that she was no longer a child as I had so pictured her these past few years. She looked to be about fifteen years old now. She led me towards the staircase, her hands on my arm in case I fell.

“Wait,” I said, stopping, “There’s something I need.”

I walked over to where Louis had previously been standing and retrieved the twin Japanese swords he had dropped during the melee.

“Why do you want those?” she asked.

“I’m not sure,” I answered, “But they’re important. I know that."     

As we went down the stairs, Tessa reclaimed my arm and said, “Thank you for saving my friends.”

“I—“,  I began to say but was interrupted.

“I know you tried to save me too. Don’t worry, I know. Louis never would have allowed that to happen. It’s not your fault.”

We arrived on the ground floor to discover Richard had found a crowbar and was busy helping Aaron out of his mangled metal cage. His son looked knocked around, but otherwise okay.

“Where’s Godwin?” Richard asked, frantic, “Tessa! There you are! God, I was scared for you.”

“Dad, listen to me,” Tessa said, “We need to get out of here now. And I mean
right
now.”

“I thought you said he’s not coming back!” I exclaimed, perhaps a little too accusatory. But I could only see the general direction of where her thoughts were headed.

“He isn’t,” she insisted, “But that’s not going to stop him from sending others.”

Aaron nodded his head in agreement as he brushed himself off and checked his gun, “He’s probably on his cell right now, telling them where to find us.”

“Shit!” Richard cursed, teeth clenched, “All his damn thugs! We’ll have to get out of town. Tonight.”

We made our way out of the factory in a steady jog. If the ghosts tried to beseech Aaron again, I didn’t feel it.

As we approached the BMW, Richard held his arms up, signaling everyone to stay back, “Nobody touch the car yet.”

He dove underneath the front end and hung out for a few seconds, inspecting the undercarriage with a flashlight.

“Okay, we’re good to go,” he announced as he rose from the pavement. I didn’t have to ask. The image of wires and plastique in the back of his mind told me what it was he’d been looking for.

“What about the brakes?” Aaron asked as he thumbed the unlock button on his car alarm remote.

Richard shrugged, “There’s no fluid on the ground.”

Aaron jumped into the driver’s seat, passing the AK to his father, who rode shotgun. Tessa and I shared the small backseat area.

“Okay you guys,” Richard said, “I need you two to keep those invisible antennas stickin’ straight up. Alright? If you feel sumpthin’s not right, lemme know.”

“You still got the nine?” Aaron asked, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.

“Yeah, but I’m out of ammo.”

“Lift up the headrest there,” Aaron instructed, tilting his head towards his father.

But before I even raised my hand to do so, Richard reached back and yanked it up. The upholstery at the bottom of the headrest had a two inch gash in it. I slid two fingers inside and extracted a new fully loaded clip that fit my weapon.

No sooner had I reloaded, than Tessa gasped, “They’re coming. Jeshua, they’re the same two guys that took me out of that mansion.”

A primer gray van turned from an intersecting side street and raced past us, heading in the opposite direction. 

“Shit, it’s them,” I said.

Clearly seeing they had just passed their intended targets, the van’s tires screeched and smoked as the driver locked up the brakes and brought the large, lumbering vehicle around as fast as he could without flipping it. A lone motorist barely missed clipping its right front corner, and instead chose to careen into the base of a pole that supported a set of traffic signal lights which trembled violently with the impact.

“Aaron, sunroof,” Richard ordered.

His son hit the button, which was among the many controls embedded in the center of the steering wheel. The tiny motor in the roof hummed as the black glass slid back, and as the van accelerated rapidly towards our rear. I lowered my own window, just in case my assistance should be needed.

“Don’t shoot unless I run out of ammo or get hit!” Richard barked, “Both of you get DOWN!”

He kept one foot in his seat and planted his right knee on the center console and emerged through the sunroof, bringing the AK-47 to bear on the approaching van. Disobeying his order, I watched through the rear glass as he sprayed the guy in the passenger seat first. He had already been leaning out of his window, sitting on the edge of his door with his own wicked looking machine gun—which went flying out of his arms when he got hit in the chest with a three-round burst.

The driver slammed on the brakes, but he was too late Agent Collins immediately shifted his aim to the right and took out the driver. The windshield shattered into an opaque white spider web as the van swerved to its left erratically and flipped. It bounced end over end into the large display glass of a retail store.

I quickly scanned the area for any witnesses as Richard lowered himself back into his seat. There was one, but I wasn’t concerned about him. He was just a wino, sitting in an empty alley with a bottle of Jack. He couldn’t see clearly enough to get our plate number, not that he was really trying.

We ended up alone on the road on a peaceful Monday night. Tessa opened her eyes as if snapping awake from a bad dream.

“You alright?” I asked.

“I am now. He put up a strong fight.”

“Your dad?”

She shook her head, “He was trying to throw off my dad’s aim.”

“Oh, shit,” I said, fumbling to pop the clip back out of my gun, reliving my fight with the Remington.

“Don’t worry,” she said gently, laying a hand on mine, “He can’t hurt us now. I won’t let him.”

Chapter 16

Though bittersweet for myself, the drive home was nothing short of joyous for my three companions. I wished I could have stayed in town long enough to say what’s up to Bo, but Richard insisted that Aaron keep driving, sending us on a night journey north on Interstate 35 until we were well past the Red River in the bumfuck town of Ardmore, Oklahoma.

The next morning I stepped out of a local diner after breakfast and lit up a cigarette, looking out across the highway as all the semi trucks rumbled by in the weak light of early dawn. Aaron followed me out and attempted small talk, but it was short-lived. He got to his target subject quickly.

“Tessa’s afraid you’re going to try to kill yourself again. Are you?”

“Haven’t decided yet,” I answered, “There’s nothing for me. In New York or Dallas. Dead-end job. No skills, not much education. No friends. I’ve never been good at making any. I don’t want to live with Doris again, I know that. But I can’t afford that apartment on my income alone... and I don’t think I wanna stay there anyways. Everything there reminds me of her. Everything
feels
like her. But, man, I don’t wanna get you guys down. You’re starting this brand new freakin’ life as a whole, reassembled family. It’s just, like, I look at you guys and I realize that all I’ve got waiting for me is that damned empty apartment.”

“You can stay with me for awhile if you want,” Aaron offered, “It’s the least I can do to pay you back for your help. I have a place in Staten Island.”

Exhaling a plume of smoke, I said, “Thanks, I might just take you up on that one day.”

Uncomfortable with the current subject, I asked, “You think we’ll ever see him again? Godwin?”

“I’m almost certain of it,” he answered, squinting his eyes as he looked out over I-35 towards the rising sun, “He holds his grudges very deeply.” 

He reached inside his inner jacket pocket and produced a pair of Ray-Bans. “You know there’s an excellent chance he’ll come after you again.”

“Good,” I replied, “I’m looking forward to it. Let him come.”

Aaron chuckled lightly, shaking his head, “And you call us crazy... You know, I had a dream about you. Before we met.”

“Nothing sexual I hope.”

“Eh, you should be so lucky,” Aaron snickered, “Nah, what got me thinking about it was when I saw you holding those two ninja blades of Louis’ when we were leaving the building. In the dream, you were holding twin swords and you were dressed all in black, like him...”

“You think the dream was prophetic?”

Aaron shook his head, as if trying to ward off that mental image, “I don’t know. Maybe. But there was something else. In the dream there was another guy with us, someone I’ve never seen before, and not someone I’ve seen since in any of my visions. He was an Indian, or Native American I guess I should say. And there was something wrong with him. He was wounded somehow, but not in a way you could see.”

“So what were we doing?” I asked.

“Trying to stop something terrible from happening. Besides that, I couldn’t say.”

*          *          *

The trip home was otherwise uneventful. I arrived back to an apartment that felt lifeless to me, like a tomb. It didn’t feel like home. As I walked inside, dropping my one piece of luggage on the floor, I felt like an archaeologist taking a stroll through the dark inner sanctum of a pyramid.

I was drained from the long ride back to the city, dreading going in to work, and knowing I had to be there in two hours.

A small red light flashed steadily upon the black plastic of the answering machine. There was only one message for me. Gone a whole week and only one motherfucking message.

What if it’s him?
A paranoid voice arose in my head.    

“So what,” I mumbled, “It probably is.”

I hit PLAY and was surprised by a perky female voice, “Hey, Dezzz! It’s Lori! Ugh, I’ve been trying to call you for weeks, but till now all I’ve gotten is that ‘all circuits are busy’ crap. But I wanted to call and check on you. You know, make sure you’re alright. Anyways, gimme a call. I’m still in Plano. You know the number. Bye!”

I don’t know exactly why listening to that message affected me the way it did. I sank to the floor of the living room and I cried. I curled into a ball just as I had on that street corner during 9/11 and I just bawled, letting everything flow out in a series of painful chest heaves.

I was alone again. I could allow myself that luxury.

*          *          *

Everyone at the bar was happy to see me, glad I was back. But I couldn’t help but think that entire night:
Why was I even working?
If I had any sense I should go home, run a nice, piping hot bath and take a knife with me. See how far the blood shoots out of my wrists after my pulse gets high enough.

But days passed. I was only mildly surprised that I hadn’t gone through with it yet. What was I waiting for?

Aaron came by on my first night off. How he knew I’d be home I never asked him.

“Thought I’d stop by. See how you’re holding up.”

“Ah, I’m good,” I replied, motioning for him to come in, “How’s everything been for you guys?”

“Pretty good. Dad’s got Tessa enrolled in school already. He had a little trouble explaining to the authorities how it is that she’s no longer missing, but he handled it well. Came up with a good story.”

Curious, I asked, “So what did he tell them?”

Aaron’s smile was mischievous, “That he got a call on his cell from a pay phone in Dallas. Someone told him he could have Tessa back for twenty g’s if he showed up in a few days and didn’t get the police involved. And so, being the distraught father that he was, he withdrew the requested amount from his savings account that same day and got on a plane to Dallas and picked her up. He made sure to distance this little exchange from the bread factory, though. In case anyone put two and two together.”

“But won’t they check his phone records? Just to verify?”

Aaron nodded, “Yeah, but they’ll find that payphone call listed just like they should. It was pre-arranged with an old buddy of his. That’s my dad. Always thinking ahead. But I guess you have to in his line of work. They’ll check his bank accounts too, for that withdrawal.”

I sat perplexed for a moment, then realized what he meant, “You mean he took it out before he left and stashed it somewhere?”

He took a manila envelope out of his inner jacket pocket and plopped it down onto the coffee table.

“You’re kidding,” I said, “Aaron, tell your dad I appreciate it, but—“

“He’s not willing to take it back. He thinks you deserve it and so do I. Don’t worry, we have plenty of money. This won’t hurt us. The government pays him well, and I own my own business.”

“God... Shit, man! I don’t know what to say.”

“No thank-you’s are necessary. My offer to become roommates still stands too, if you ever decide you want to get out of this place.”