The Keys Are In It (Part Eight)
Wednesday, July 23rd, 2008
Herein are several people whose lives at first do not seem connected. Their paths converge unexpectedly. This is Part Eight.
Part Eight
“Oh, God. Mouse,” Blake said. His faithful canine companion of 10 years lay still on the minivan’s floor.
Pain ran up Blake’s left side, from his feet to his head. He couldn’t see out of his left eye, and the world was blurry. Two white blobs, presumably airbags, blocked his view out the front. He gingerly touched his ribs on his left side and, after nearly passing out from the pain, looked at his blood-smeared fingertips. To avoid hurting more, he ignored the urge to move his left leg or arm.
Two-year-old Reid wailed, “Mommy!” between tearful sobs.
“It’s okay, baby. Everything’s… gonna be all right,” Liz sang from the front passenger’s seat. She seemed to be working to free herself from her seatbelt.
Still not convinced, Reid kept crying.
Alex unbuckled his seatbelt and worked to open his door. “Hush little baby, don’t you cry. Daddy’s gonna sing you a lullaby,” he sang. He continued his struggle and the song as the child’s cries grew louder.
Doug turned enough to see whether he still was being held at gunpoint. The man who moments before had shot at him lay motionless and face-up against the back of Blake’s and Reid’s seats, cradled by a cushy bed of trash bags filled with clothing, stuffed animals, and toys. Blake slowly reached out his right hand and pushed on the man’s chest. Somewhere below a high-pitched, badly sampled voice enthusiastically called out, “I love you.” The man didn’t move.
Between Reid’s squalls came the sound of a grown man screaming, but it wasn’t anyone in the minivan. Somebody in one of the other involved vehicles was wide awake and suffering.
Liz finally escaped her seatbelt and crawled over the console to her son. She stroked his head and said, “There, there, sweetie,” in soothing tones.
Someone outside the van shoved the rear passenger door open along its track. It was Alex. “Leave him in his seat,” he said.
“But he needs us,” Liz said.
“He might be hurt. It’s best to just take his car seat out with him still in it.”
Liz released the belt holding the boy’s seat and Alex deftly lifted Reid out the door. She followed them.
“Here, take him. I’m going to see about Blake,” Alex said.
Elated that he was no longer a hostage, Blake lifted his right arm just enough to give a thumbs-up. Then everything went black.
——-
Just like in his nightmare in the church, Doug felt the flesh on his legs was on fire. He screamed at first, then ratcheted it down behind clenched teeth. His head and arms still were covered and he was slumped face-down over something hard. A dull ache started building behind his forehead.
“Mom? Doug?” Lori called, from Doug’s left.
Lori’s mother groaned from the right. “Is everybody okay?” she said.
“No, my legs,” Doug moaned. “Uncovered.”
He felt two hard objects dig into his back, and then the excruciating burning sensation on his legs gave way to the pain of after effects. The two objects (elbows?) lifted from his back.
“There. Better?” Lori said.
“Yes, thanks,” Doug said. “What did we hit? A Mac truck?”
“Minivan,” Lori said.
“My face hurts,” Lori’s mother said. “Better than hitting the windshield, I guess.”
“Let’s get out of the car,” Lori said.
Doug vowed never to risk getting caught in daylight again, and to avoid drunken nights with people who didn’t know his condition.
——-
“Come on, Coop, we gotta check on the people in the van,” said Hunter.
Cooper stood, leaning over with his hands on his thighs. He thought he was going to be sick. “I can’t believe you hit them. You weren’t even watching where you were going,” he said.
“I already saw some of them get out. They’re probably fine.”
The two teens waited for a clearing between passing cars and then ran over to the minivan. As they approached Coop saw the driver’s side had taken heavy damage, especially above and behind the rear wheel. The large window above the wheel was gone, but there was barely any glass on the road below. Confused, Cooper forgot about it when he saw the man seated inside.
He sat bloodied and in a daze while a man on the passenger’s side of the van urged him to get up.
“Blake, we have to go. He could wake up any minute. Come on.”
Bloody Blake moved slowly toward the door to take the other man’s outstretched hand.
Who could wake up? “Oh, shit, look,” Cooper said, pointing to an unconscious man sprawled out in the back. “That guy needs help.” The man opened his eyes and with great effort turned his head to look at him.
Cooper and Hunter dashed around the van and started to squeeze past the two men.
“Stay away from him. He’s dangerous,” said the man helping Bloody Blake.
“Bump that, man. I feel bad enough. I’m not about to let that guy die in there,” Hunter said.
Both his arms assisting his friend, the man had no way to stop them, and made no attempt. “Just, please, stay away and let the authorities handle him.”
“Whatever, dude,” Hunter said as he and Cooper ducked inside.
“You boys are my saviors,” said the man they had come to rescue. “Take me to your vehicle and drive me away from here.”
“Sorry, but our ride’s out of commission,” Hunter said. “Besides, don’t you need a hospital or something?”
“No, no doctors. No police.”
Cooper and Hunter kneeled to allow the man to throw an arm over each boy’s shoulders. They hauled him to the door and stood, then set him down on the floor with his legs dangling. He pulled out a gun, careful to keep it concealed between his legs.
“Easy, man. We just came to see if you’re okay. We don’t even know these people,” Hunter said. “Right, Coop?”
“Right.” Cooper said and looked back to find if somebody was watching.
“As I said before, you two will take me away from here. I don’t care which vehicle you use, but we can’t stay for the rest of this party.”
Cooper thought he must be having a nightmare. He was even more sure of it when from a smashed Toyota emerged a person wrapped in a brightly colored afghan, escorted by two women.
——-
“Mom, you’ve got to hold it shut or he’ll burn,” Lori said. Already angry at herself for following too closely while driving, she was taking her frustration out on her mother.
They pulled Doug from the car and guided him while trying to keep the afghan light-tight.
“Don’t scold me. I came to pick you up at the station and then all this happens. I’m beginning to hope I’m still at home in bed, dreaming all of this.”
“Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to cause you trouble,” Doug said from behind his yarn veil.
“Vampires, men with guns. I think I’m losing it,” Lori’s mother said.
“He’s not a vampire, mother.”
“Umm — ” Doug began.
“Hey, lady, does your car run? This guy’s hurt real bad and we need to rush him to a hospital,” said one of two approaching teenagers with a man following close behind.
“The EMT’s should be here soon,” Lori’s mother said.
“He can’t wait.”
“You’re not taking her car,” Lori said. “You’ll have to wait like everybody else.”
“I don’t think you understand how important this is,” said the other boy.
“Kiss off,” said Lori’s mother. “My day’s already turned to shit and I’m not letting you take my car.”
Doug laughed.
The man with the boys flashed a gun and fired twice, with a sound not exactly like Hollywood’s guns with silencers, but similar enough that Lori knew what had happened. He tucked the gun away just as quickly.
Doug slouched. Lori and her mother caught him before he hit the ground. They strained to stand upright.
“Now ladies,” the man said. “Do we understand the urgency?”
“Oh my God. You just… oh my God. Doug!” Lori shrieked.
“Shut up now or someone else gets hurt,” the gunman said calmly.
Lori sobbed. Her mother stood still, apparently in shock, but held onto Doug.
“They keys are in it,” Lori said.
The man prodded the boys and made his way behind them to the Toyota. She tried not to think of what would happen if it didn’t start.
“Doug, can you hear me?” Lori said.
“Yes,” he whispered back.
“Help should be coming.”
“I’m fine. Well, except for these third-degree burns from the sun. Now, just point me toward that trigger-happy asshole and you and your mom will get your money’s worth. Be ready with the blanket, though.”
(to be continued)