Stash (11 page)

A bell sounded inside the house and the shrill ring jolted him from his daze. Someone had turned into the driveway. Forgetting the shovel, he ran back to the cabin and got the shotgun he kept against the wall behind the front door.

The gravel drive curved downhill from the road with trees encroaching on either side, their limbs hanging low overhead. Aaron waited by the window, shotgun in hand, watching for the vehicle that had tripped the sensor to appear around the bend in the driveway. His tongue stuck to the inside of his dry mouth. His pulse sped and his face panged.

The only regular visitor was the guy who delivered propane, every other Thursday, but Aaron believed today was Sunday, maybe Monday. No other visitors allowed, one of Jude’s many rules, although what friends, if Aaron had any, would visit this cabin forsaken in the wilderness?

Then the van appeared and pulled into the clearing, coming to a stop next to Aaron’s truck. He tensed until he saw Jude get out, stand there and survey the property and the cabin, stare into the dense woods surrounding it. Then he came up the porch stairs.

Aaron opened the door.

“Put that thing down,” Jude said. “What are you doing with a gun?”

Aaron leaned the gun against the wall just inside the door. “I
wasn’t expecting anyone. I thought it might be an ambush and I wanted to protect your investment.”

“What’s wrong with you? I just called an hour ago and said I was coming. Did you forget?”

Yeah, he must have.

“No one’s going to ambush you. Besides, whoever shows up here, you don’t want to be shooting them. No shooting.”

“Yes, sir.”

He took a closer look at Aaron’s eyes. “Are you all right?”

“I just forgot, that’s all.”

“You having a lot of pain, is that the problem?”

“I got it under control.”

“What are you taking?”

Aaron shrugged. “Not too much.”

“Is the safety on?”

Aaron checked the gun and clicked the safety button back on.

“You don’t need a gun here. I want you to get rid of it. It’s that kind of thing that makes me wonder about you.”

“You can count on me. I got all the plants harvested and drying.”

“Okay.” Now his tone eased. “And I appreciate you making that run for me yesterday. You get something to eat before you drove back?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What else did you do there?”

“I put the bag in the walk-in and helped myself to the food on the stove. I did what you said.”

“You work for me,” Jude said. “That means you tell the truth.”

“I know.”

They had been on the same flight from D.C., although Aaron hadn’t noticed Jude on the plane. He’d kept his head down, hat brim pulled low. After deplaning, he walked through the terminal. As he approached the exit he saw the signs before he could ID the people waving them. Big cardboard banners with hand-drawn letters: “Welcome Home” and “Support Our Troops.”

For a stupid instant his heart leaped, as if the signs were for him.

A few steps closer and he read “Welcome Home Alex” and “Alex, We Love You” and “U.S. Marines.” The people holding them were strangers to Aaron—women, men, children, a granny.

He picked out the marine ten yards in front him in his brown service uniform, watched him pass through the exit and get swallowed by the sign holders. Aaron glimpsed the side of the marine’s flushed, beaming face, handling the attention. No obvious scars or dents in his body. No missing parts. A whole man.

Passengers from other gates crowded the terminal, making their way toward the exit. Aaron felt glances his way, people sneaking a second look. Couldn’t blame them. Who doesn’t crane for a view of the accident.

Two things he needed to do: shed the fatigues, get a new face. Maybe three: do something with his life, now that he still had one.

Aaron moved on to retrieve his duffel. Not until he’d collected it from the carousel did he consider how to get to Glens Falls. His half-assed plan was to move in again with his buddy, Guy, who once shared a house with Aaron and had since moved to a mobile home park and said sure, come live with him again, only now his girlfriend would be there, too.

Aaron thought of where else he could stay. Nowhere. No family. Father unknown. After raising her son alone, his mother met and married Ted the real estate flake and moved to Arizona a year before Aaron had joined the Guard. Arizona. No fucking way
would Aaron step foot into a desert again as long as he lived. He’d made that promise to himself one night on patrol, if only he could get out of the sandbox alive. He was still undecided about the beach, which had sand but also water. He had an older sister, Ellen, who lived in Denmark with a scientist she had married. She didn’t know he’d ever joined the Guard or started college. So it was Guy, and his girlfriend, and a tin trailer, but only for the short term. He was resourceful and something better would come along.

He secured the duffel around his shoulder and the carry-on in his left hand, lowered his hat another inch over his eyes, and considered taking a taxi. No, that would cost at least a Ben and he didn’t have cash to burn. He looked at the bus schedule. He’d have to get downtown first to catch a bus going north. Just the idea of it sent a stab of pain through his face. He put both bags down and reached in his pocket for a vike. When he tilted his head back to swallow dry he saw some dude approaching him.

“You need a ride?”

At first Aaron though he was military. He stood tall with his shoulders back, hair groomed. Looked straight at Aaron’s face and didn’t register a change in expression. Wore a smooth leather jacket and dark pants. Polished black boots.

“I saw you on the plane, and now I see you looking at the bus schedule, so I thought I’d ask.”

Sure, everyone saw him. Everyone noticed the freak. Aaron picked up his two bags again. “I have to get up near Glens Falls.”

“I’m driving north, if you want. Take it or leave it.”

Why not. He said, “Yeah, cool.” Another guilty conscience motherfucker feeling it for a soldier sent to fight a shitty war. Or, this could be his first break to bigger things.

“I’m Jude Gates.”

“Aaron Capuano, sir. Pleased to meet you.” Still with the manners from the Guard.

It was cold outside the terminal and scraps of dirty snow hung on where the plows had built piles on the edges of the lot. The air felt good, clean. Gates popped the trunk as they approached his car. Aaron put his bags in and helped himself to the passenger side. Nice car, heated leather, like a jet with all the cockpit lights and navigation system.

As soon as they were on the Northway, Gates reached in his pocket and pulled out a joint, holding it up so Aaron could see.

“Do you mind?”

“What? No. I mean, go ahead.” A roll of Life Savers he might have expected from this dude, but a bone?

Gates produced a lighter and fired the joint. Pungent smoke filled the cabin. He took a single hit that glowed the lit end and offered it to Aaron. “You want some?”

Fuck yeah he wanted some. There hadn’t been reefer in the sand and nothing at Reed except the vikes and antiseizure shit. Aaron hadn’t gotten high in almost a year, since he’d last rotated to the States. But he wondered. Was Gates one of those rich, middle-aged homos trying to lure him into a hole job? Whatever. If he tried anything, Aaron would gouge his eyes out.

He took the joint and sucked, felt like a rookie when he exploded coughing.

He took another hit without coughing this time and passed it back.

“I’m good. Help yourself,” Gates said. Then he switched into the left lane and set the cruise on eighty.

Aaron smoked the joint down to a roach and held it, not sure what to do with it.

“Out the window,” Gates said, opening Aaron’s window for him. Aaron gave it a flick. A stab of pain struck his face and he raised a hand to cup his cheek.

“You in Washington to meet with the president?” Gates asked.
“I noticed a few soldiers in the audience during his State of the Union.”

Here we go. Dude hadn’t said jack until now. No questions about the war or how he got wounded, no statements about pride and bravery. No political speeches leaning left or right. But he’d been waiting for an opening.

“I was at Reed.”

“I hear that place is no Hilton. Mold all over the walls.”

Aaron snorted. “The walls, the toilet seats, the mattresses, you fucking name it.”

He didn’t want to talk but found himself telling about it. Not just the grenade that carved out a chunk of his face and ripped his buddy to pieces, leaving a spray of bloody dust in their vehicle and on the road a million miles from home, but his whole lame story. Probably because he was so stoned—that always got his heart opening. They were supposed to fix his face, put in a plate and cover it up nice and neat with some skin from his ass, but that hadn’t happened yet and who knows if it ever would. He didn’t think about the future; it was too much like looking for something he’d lost but didn’t know where. Although he’d had a future once, had graduated from high school, and even though he didn’t get a ride to a Division I hockey school, he attended a semester at Adirondack Community College. He thought he wanted to be an engineer, or an architect. The problem was money. He had to pay full tuition because he hadn’t submitted his financial aid forms on time; when he finally got a loan he spent most of it on a down payment for the Yamaha FZ, which he flipped in a turn the first week. Totaled the bike, a costly mistake, but at least he walked away from it. He had credit card debt up to his eyeballs and tried one of those debt consolidation companies, which only made it worse. The idea of the Guard came from a recruiter on campus. He’d seen the commercials on TV. Who hadn’t, they
were airing all the time. Two weeks’ commitment a year and one weekend a month and you got help to pay for college and you could become somebody and do something useful with your life. At first it was great. He proved his strength in basic while other pussies dropped out. He mastered combat maneuvers. In the winter during the ice storm his unit helped evacuate people and clear roads and transport provisions. He made a difference. Then came the call-up. He wasn’t worried or afraid. He’d stand for his country.

And then.

And then he shut up. Rode in stoned silence swallowing down the same panic he’d felt while on patrol and a loneliness he didn’t know existed. The pot was too strong.

At Exit 18 Gates asked him for the address. Aaron said he didn’t know the number, just the road name, which Gates keyed into the navigation system and got audio turn-by-turn directions and a full-color map display. What a system—better than anything the Humvees were equipped with. Car probably had better armor, too.

“Thanks for driving me all this way,” Aaron said. “I would have been fucked otherwise.”

Gates found the entrance to the park and turned in. Aaron told him to stop at a group of mailboxes with names and numbers. He got out and scanned the names and found Guy’s.

Gates cruised slowly down the row. It was late and no one was outside. A few of the trailers had spotlights shining into dirt patches posing as lawns. They located the right one and Gates stopped. The windows were dark. A cracked vinyl awning hung lopsided over the door.

“Hold on.” Gates handed Aaron a business card with his name and phone number. “I’m sure you’ve got good friends here who can help you get connected again, but in case you’re looking for
something new I might have a position available. Some property that needs looking after. It’s a bit farther north, near Adams Station, so you’d have to relocate. Rent included.”

“What kind of position?”

“Like a caretaker, with benefits—like that joint you smoked.”

“What do I have to do?”

“You have to be discreet. You wouldn’t want to mention it to your friends.”

“Discreet?”

“It means careful, unnoticed.”

“I know what it means.” He shoved the card in his jacket pocket.

“We can talk again if you want.” Gates released the trunk but didn’t get out. Aaron retrieved his bags and Gates pulled away, swinging around the perimeter of the park and accelerating hard as he got out to the main road.

Aaron rapped the aluminum door. Then again, this time on the glass. He heard noises from inside and saw someone moving and Guy came to the door wrapped in a towel.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Aaron. What the hell …”

Aaron stepped into the living room with his bags. The place reeked of lemon freshener masking mildew or mold, like at Reed. Guy turned on a lamp near the couch.

“I thought you said tomorrow. Shit, I could have picked you up.”

“That’s okay, I got a ride.”

“Who is it?” a voice called from the other room.

“It’s Aaron, babe. Get out here and meet Aaron.”

“What—hang on, I’ve got to get dressed.”

“Me too,” Guy said to Aaron. “Let me just throw on some jeans.”

Aaron sat on the couch. The springs pricked his ass. He could hear the conversation in the bedroom, the girlfriend asking where was Aaron going to sleep, how long was he going to stay, and Guy telling her to be quiet, it would all work out.

Guy came out first. He got two beers from the refrigerator and opened Aaron’s for him. He looked at Aaron’s face below the brim of his hat.