The Keys Are In It (Part Six)
Herein are several people whose lives at first do not seem connected. Their paths converge unexpectedly. This is Part Six.
Part Six
“The wheels on the bus go ’round and ’round, ’round and ’round, ’round and ’round,” sang the woman on the children’s music CD. The minivan’s speakers blared her voice and those of her prepubescent backing vocalists.
“I don’t suppose that as the driver I could get you to move that music to the rear speakers, could I?” Alex said.
“Sure.” Liz pushed and then turned the audio control knob on the Odyssey’s CD player. The volume faded from the front speakers. She turned to look at the toddler strapped by five-point harness into the back seat. “Reid, sweetie, can you still hear it?”
“Yes, Mommy.”
“Oh, Christ!” Alex yelled.
The van swerved, jostling Liz hard enough that she hit her head on her window. They stopped, tires squealing. “Ow! What the hell?” Liz said.
“Some idiot just ran out into the road, and I think he’s carrying a dog,” Alex said, checking his side mirror. “Hey, don’t do that!”
A banging sound came from the back of the van. Despite the sharp pain spreading through her head, Liz turned to find the source.
Their neighbor, Blake Leftkowitz, ran up to the driver’s door carrying his little dog and looking like he had just been in a paper cut battle. Thin, shallow lacerations — some tiny, some several inches long — covered his face and his arms. Sweat mud covered his face and rivulets streaked his cheeks, as if he had been crying.
“It’s Blake,” Alex said and lowered his window glass.
“Please, you have to help me. A man is trying to kill me,” Blake said between labored breaths.
Liz’s mouth dropped open. “Why is he — ?”
The rear glass on the driver’s side shattered. The adults ducked. Little Reid started crying.
“What was that?” Alex said.
Blake glanced over his shoulder, then back at Alex. “He’s shooting at me. Please, let me in.”
Alex punched a button left of the steering wheel. The passenger’s side rear door clunked open and whined slowly along its track, obviously unaware of any urgency. Blake scrambled around the front of the minivan and dashed inside the open door.
The driver’s side mirror shattered.
“Don’t move or I will shoot someone instead of something.”
A man walked up to the van, his gun aimed through the broken window at Reid. “Do as I say.”
——-
“See, I told you, man, the keys are in it,” said Hunter Martin. He was a 17-year-old with little to do but spy on his neighbors, and today had been no exception.
“How did you know?” said Cooper Stahl, Hunter’s sidekick since second grade.
“I pay attention, Coop. I heard the guy next door telling his wife about it before they left. Nobody was home when he tried the front door. It’s perfect.”
“But when was that?”
“About 15 minutes ago, before we finished playing Fall of Man. Come on, let’s do this.”
Hunter shot his eyes at the surrounding houses. He opened the door to the SUV and climbed into the driver’s seat.
Cooper grabbed the door. “Dude, don’t do that. It’s one thing to move somebody’s patio table or unhook their grill from the gas. We’re not car thieves.”
“Car borrowers, Coop. Come on, you think I can afford to put gas in my dad’s truck?”
“We could just siphon the gas,” Cooper said.
Hunter turned the key and the ignition brought the engine to life. “No adventure in that. Now get in or get out of the way.”
Cooper let go the door and held up his hands. “Let the record show that I’m doing this under protest.” He walked around and climbed into the front passenger’s seat.
“Let the record show that you’re an ass-bite,” Hunter said.
——-
The DART train stopped.
Doug shook under the afghan. He couldn’t see anything and he was hot, but at least his skin wasn’t burning. He struggled to remember what happened after he and his friends arrived at the park the previous night.
“My mom said there’s room for both of us in her car,” Lori said.
He had not seen Lori Breden since college. If she harbored any romantic feelings for him this would go a long way toward helping her shed them.
“Okay, thanks,” he said.
“So, how can we move you?” Lori said.
“I have to keep all my skin out of the sun. You’ll have to guide me.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep the way clear for you,” said a man’s voice Doug didn’t recognize.
“Great. Thanks,” Lori said.
Doug squirmed out from under the seats and used one of the support poles to pull himself up. Wordlessly, Lori worked to keep the afghan wrapped around everything but his shoes. At some point as she led him, he felt more than one set of hands doing the work.
“Whoever’s out there, thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome” came in various forms and voice ranges.
Following Lori’s lead, he stepped carefully down from the train and onto a sidewalk. The air seemed fresher than it did downtown. Birds chirped and a cicada or two still called out for a mate.
“You’re going to make it, Doug. You’ll be just fine,” Lori said.
(to be continued)
July 21st, 2008 at 6:11 am
I’m dying to see how all this is interconnected!!!