The First Three Rules (28 page)

What Rudy saw when he came out of the alley made him skid to a halt. Louis and Russell were hanging onto Jon. They weren’t dressed like cops today. Lenny punched Jon in the face and Russell landed a kick to the back of Jon’s knees.

“Jon.” Rudy took a few steps closer. “Stop it don’t, hurt him.”

All three men shoved Jon off his feet. Gravel dug ruts into Jon’s cheek as he turned his head.

“Go.” He coughed out a breath and gray dust puffed up from the ground. “Go, Rudy. Now.”

Jon bucked under the three men, lifting them up enough to get an arm free. He punched Louis hard enough to send him stumbling back.

“You fucker. You’ll pay for that.” Louis stomped Jon’s arm.

Lenny knocked the guy in the shoulder. “Save it. Just get him in the car.”

Jon ducked his head to avoid another punch. “Go somewhere there’s people, Rudy. Go now.” But if he left, Jon would be alone. “Damn it, Rudy, for fuck’s sake go back to the diner.”

Lenny pulled out an object from his back pocket. “Time to take a ride, Mr. Marshal.” He jabbed the strange black box against Jon’s neck. There was a loud ‘pop-pop.’ Jon jerked then quit moving. Lenny showed the thing in his hand to Rudy. Blue sparks jumped from the end. “You’re next, retard.”

Rudy ran.

He started to go in the card shop but Jon said to go to go to the diner. Ellis would be at the diner. He’d know what to do.

The diner beckoned him from across the street, looking all shiny with its chrome trim around the windows and bright red canopy.

Rudy didn’t wait for the light to change. Cars swerved and horns blared. An SUV screamed to a halt and the driver yelled something out the window. The sharp clang of bells followed him inside the restaurant. Ellis stood at the register.

“Ellis.” The pounding in Rudy’s chest made it hurt to breathe.

“Sorry, the line was—” Ellis turned around. “What’s wrong? Where’s Jon?”

“We went to the card shop. I bought baseball cards.” Rudy pulled out a pack so Ellis could see.

Ellis grabbed Rudy by the shoulders. “Where’s Jon, Rudy?”

“We left. We were going to come back and—”

“Tell me where Jon is.”

“Lenny was in the alley. He said ‘Queer Boy isn’t all that bad. Screams like a girl though.’ And Jon ran after him. Then he hurt Jon. The police men were there. But the didn’t look like police. They hit him. And then Lenny told the police to put him in the car. Jon’s hurt. He’s hurt bad.”

Ellis turned back to the counter. “I need to use your phone.”

The man in the white paper hat said, “Business use only.”

“Goddamn it, my friend is in trouble, give me the phone.”

The man in the paper hat gave him the receiver. Rudy followed Ellis into the hallway between the bathrooms. It was quieter but not by much. Ellis’s hands shook as he dialed the number. “Goddamn it.” He dialed again.

“Please answer,” Ellis paced. “Please, please answer.” He stopped. “Lenny took Jon. No, no I don’t.” Ellis looked at Rudy. “Do you know what kind of car they were driving?”

“It was in a parking lot. There were lots of cars.”

Ellis rubbed his forehead. He repeated what Rudy said into the phone.

“They were yelling and yelling.” Rudy said. “It hurt my ears.”

Ellis held up a hand. “I don’t know. I don’t have a clue. No, no, it’s been quiet.”

“Louis stomped on Jon’s arm. I think he broke it. He hit it really hard and that would break it.”

Tears cut lines down Ellis’s cheeks. Ellis crying was bad. Rudy didn’t want him to cry.

“Jon punched Russell in the nose. It bled.”

“How are you going to find him? You don’t know where Lenny took him. Oh God, George…”

Jon was lost. Lost was kinda like hiding things only it was accidental hiding. Just like Rudy knew when Jon would be in the park, he knew where Lenny was going to take him. “The Grove.”

“That will take too long.”

Rudy tugged on Ellis arm. “The Grove.”

“Please George, I can’t lose him.”

“But you won’t lose him,” Rudy said. “‘Cause I know where they’re going.”

Ellis jerked his head up. “What did you say.”

“You should listen. Listening is important.”

“Rudy.” Ellis petted Rudy’s arm with a trembling hand. “Just…just tell me again what you said.”

“Jon punched Louis in the nose. It bled.”

“No…” Ellis clenched eyes shut and took a breath. “You said you know where they’re taking Jon.”

“The Grove. They’re taking Jon to the Grove. What’s the Grove?”

“Is that what Lenny said?”

“No.”

Ellis slumped. “No, he doesn’t know.”

“But I do. The Grove. They’re taking him to the Grove.” Rudy tugged on Ellis’s arm again so he would listen. “The Grove, Ellis. The Grove.”

“Rudy, stop it. This isn’t a game.”

“But I know where Lenny is taking him.”

“You can’t know. There’s no way you can…” Ellis sobbed.

“But I do. Just like I knew Jon would be in the park and where you hide the oatmeal. Just not the cookies. I can never find the cookies. So that’s how I know where to find Jon.”

“I’m here,” Ellis said into the receiver. “Rudy said something about the Grove. No, but maybe he forgot they said it. He forgets things all the time. I don’t know…I…yeah, yeah, okay.” Ellis nodded. “Okay. Okay. Yes.” Ellis left it on the counter and dragged Rudy through the crowd and out the door. Rudy’s toe caught the threshold. He stumbled, but managed to stay on his feet. If he fell he’d wrinkle his clothes. Then people would think Ellis didn’t take care of him.

Now, Jon took care of Ellis and Jon was lost. Since Ellis would need Jon it was important they find him. Maybe the most important thing. Even more important than never wearing wrinkled clothes.

Ellis stopped at Jon’s car. “Goddamn it, I don’t have the keys.”

Cussing was bad. Ellis rarely cussed. Ellis grabbed his hair with both hands and yelled like it hurt. Then he smacked his fist on the roof of the car.

Sob after sob burst out of Ellis and more than anything, Rudy wanted to make it better but all he knew to do was say, “I’m sorry.”

Irony. Jon held it in spades.

A month ago he’d found a reason to live and now he bounced around in the trunk of an old Buick waiting to die.

The jack bit into Jon’s shoulder, the spare forced him to curl on his side, and his wrists burned from his attempt to get free of the cuffs. When the car jerked to the left his head smacked the side wall and a warm streak dripped into his eyes. The smooth hum of rubber on pavement turned into the sharp ping of gravel striking the undercarriage.

The car hit a dip in the road and his knee smashed into the deck lid, setting off an explosion of pain. The concussion traveled down his leg and echoed in his ankle. But none of it compared to the shrapnel grinding in his arm. Every so often, the steady ache would strike hard, a static buzz would fill up his senses and nausea would crash through his gut.

Just when Jon was sure his battered body was done, the Buick pulled to a stop. Car doors opened then closed with heavy thumps. Gravel crunched and the metal slide of a key in a lock followed. The trunk opened.

Jon blinked against the sunlight blurred by clouds of orange dust.

Russell waved a gun at him. “Get out.”

Jon eased a leg over of the edge of the trunk. He kept his eyes down, but dipped his shoulders just enough he could check the position of each man and inventory their weapons.

There was only one gun. For some reason that worried Jon more than an arsenal.

Lenny yanked Jon up by his shirt, but his knee gave out. For a moment there was only heavy thump of his heart keeping time with the lightning shooting from his knee to his hip. Then the world came back into focus and he lay at Lenny’s feet.

Dust settled, clinging to Jon’s skin and coating the inside of his nose.

“What’s wrong, Mr. Marshal? Your leg hurt?” Even after two weeks, faint bruises outlined the shape of a hand on Lenny’s throat.

Jon coughed up a mouthful of iron flavored dirt. “Nice neckwear.”

Lenny’s expression hardened and all Jon could do was brace for the punch. A ring on Lenny’s finger seared a line across Jon’s cheek. He didn’t know if the cracking sound was his cheekbone or Lenny’s knuckles popping from the impact.

He landed a boot heel into Jon’s ribs. “Move. Now.”

Jon got a leg under him. He pushed and toppled into the side of the Buick. An ice pick of pain shot from his shoulder to his chest.

“Let’s go, Mr. Marshal. Time’s a waste’n.” Lenny shoved Jon around the Buick. On the other side fescue wove a carpet of green over a vast tract of land. The only imperfection was a clump of pecan trees. They twisted toward the sky with knotted limbs.

Like that day in the warehouse, some primal part of Jon’s brain warned him of a danger he couldn’t see.

Lenny slapped Jon on the back of the head. “I said move. That means one foot in front of the other.”

Jon stumbled and wound up in the shallow ditch edging the road.

Blades of grass tugged at his clothes and crawled along his face. He shoved himself to his feet so fast he almost fell on his ass. The ribbons of fescue continued to ripple, riding eddies of an invisible breeze.

Lenny sneered. “What’s wrong, Mr. Marshal?” His gaze flicked to the ground and back. “Not afraid of a little dirt and grass, are you?” He forced Jon farther into the field.

Grass clung to Jon’s boots and wrapped around his ankles. He pulled his feet free with enough force to rip clumps of root and dirt from the soil.

Deeper into the field, the pecan trees cut away the warmth of the sun. Their skeletal branches ticked with small squeaks and moans.

The two cops stopped at the edge of the shadows cast by the trees. All the color was gone from Louis’s face and sweat stained the collar of Russell’s shirt. They watched the trees with a weary expression.

“Right here’s good.” Lenny grabbed the handcuffs. Jon grit his teeth against the shout boiling in his throat. Lenny laughed. “Hurt much, Mr. Marshal? Don’t worry, it’ll all be over very soon.”

The road was only a couple hundred feet back and it was hard to hit a moving target. Even if Jon couldn’t escape, at least, it would beat getting executed.

He turned hard and slammed his shoulder into Lenny, knocking him over. The change in direction released a new wave of agony from Jon’s knee.

Ignore it. Ignore it.

The following steps fed the fire.

It doesn’t hurt as bad as you think it does.

Jon pushed through the wave of vertigo.

Just a little farther
.

Everything spun.

Do not pass out, do not pass out. Think of Ellis.

Jon’s boot caught a tangle of grass. He turned to break his fall, but his but his ankles were so bound up, all he could do was land face first. His breath whooshed out and black stars burst in front of his eyes.

Get up, get up.

He rolled on his side. Grass snaked over his legs and tangled in the cuffs. Grass did not crawl. It did not purposely hold someone down. Just like dead brothers didn’t appear at a four way stop or the middle of a warehouse.

Jon clenched his eyes against the hallucination.

Lenny planted his boot in the middle of Jon’s chest. “You didn’t really think you’d get away, did you?”

Grass tickled Jon’s cheek and jerked his head. Lenny followed the movement of the grass with his eyes. Or maybe Jon imagined it. God, he hoped he imagined it.

“Now, get up. We got business to tend to.” Lenny stepped back.

It wasn’t so much the command that got Jon to his feet as the fescue rubbing his skin. Jon had to cock his injured leg out to the side and push himself up with his good one.

By the time he got to his feet a cold sweat soaked his skin.

Lenny grabbed Jon by his arm and shoved him toward the trees.

The closer Jon got to the black monstrosities the more they seemed to expand. Was it normal for pecan trees to get that big?

“That’s far enough.”

Jon stopped. Around him, abstract shapes of sunlight cut by the crisscross of tree limbs, danced across the ground.

“They’re impressive, don’t you think?” Lenny petted the back of Jon’s head. The touch was almost intimate.

Jon yanked away. “They’re dead trees.”

A cloud of black swam through the gray of Lenny’s eyes. “If you say so, Mr. Marshal.”

The naked branches swayed in the wind.

Dead trees. Dead Pecan trees.
Jon shivered.

Lenny held his hand out to Russell. “Give me the gun.”

“What?” Russell’s eyes widened. “Wait, I thought—”

Lenny turned and Russell all but choked on his words. “Don’t think, Russell. Do. Thinking can be bad for your health. The gun.”

Russell hesitated.

“Give me the fucking gun.” He did. It was a .38, just like Jon’s. “Now get the fuck out. Last thing I need is a two bleeding heart pussies.” Both men jogged back to the road without getting tangled in the grass.

Unlike you, Jon, they aren’t meant to stay.

“What did you say?” Jon said.

“I didn’t say anything, Mr. Marshal. You must be hearing things.”

All the kings horses and all the kings men, couldn’t put Jon’s mind together again.

Jon turned. Nothing.

Except the trees.

“It’s just you and me Mr. Marshal. All nice and cozy. Just two friends having a pleasant day out.” Lenny waved the gun. “Now, kneel.”

Whatever Jon had seen in Lenny’s gaze must have been a trick of the light, because now there was only a son-of-a-bitch looking back. “I don’t think so.”

The blow from the backhand snapped Jon’s head back and his balance wavered. He caught himself on his bad leg. Grit sanded the space behind his knee cap. When he’d steadied himself, he rolled his gaze up at Lenny and spit a mouthful of blood. “You can shoot me where I am.” Jon pulled himself to his full height. “I’m not getting on my knees for you to kill me.”

“Do you think I’m fucking around?” Before Jon had a chance to say no, Lenny fired off a shot next to Jon’s foot, kicking up earth and rock.

Jon flinched, but he did not go down.

The hate in Lenny’s expression flared. He rushed forward and shoved the barrel of the gun under Jon’s chin. The heated metal hissed against his sweat soaked skin.