Chapter 36 #2
Rod, Belle, and Hobbit were right behind him, with Sadie, Meg, and Shelly with her video camera still flashing its red record light not far behind.
He could hear Tom in the distance, using his stage voice to tell the kids at the party exactly what was going on, and basically deputizing them to help him guard the evidence.
“Trent!” Jules shouted. “Stop! It’s over!”
But Trent didn’t stop. He ran into the street, down the line of cars parked on both sides of the road.
With luck, he’d locked his car, which would allow Jules to catch him as he unlocked the driver’s side door, but Trent didn’t drive an ancient POS the way Tom did, or even a not-quite-so-ancient but economical subcompact like the car Jules had inherited from his dad.
Trent’s car was in fact a truck—giant and shiny and brand-spanking new—and it had one of those combination locks on the driver’s side door that didn’t slow him down as much as Jules hoped.
Still he finally caught up as Trent pulled the door open. He grabbed the back of Trent’s shirt as the taller boy tried to climb into the cab, except he wasn’t trying to climb up and in, instead he was reaching beneath the front seat.
And when Jules pulled him out—one hand still holding Trent’s shirt, the other on the waistband of the kid’s jeans—Trent had grabbed something he’d hidden down there.
Holy crap, it was a gun—not a very big one, but then again, it didn’t have to be.
Jules froze, but only for a fraction of a second because the items on his current to-do list just increased exponentially from the single-mindedness of Stop Trent to Don’t die and Don’t let anyone else die.
“Gun! Get down, get back!” he shouted to his friends, even as part of him was desperately wishing he’d taken Hobbit up on his offer to take him to a firing range and teach him a thing or two.
Because he knew shit-all about guns—only that they fired bullets that could kill with shocking swiftness and ease.
His sole information came from TV, movies, and books, and the vast majority of that was so totally fictional it was grade-A bullshit.
But apparently Trent’s education about guns had a similarly dubious source, because he was fumbling with the deadly little thing, trying to look at it, to maybe.
.. take off the safety? That was Jules’s guess and since according to Columbo and Dragnet and the countless cop shows that followed, until the safety came off, a gun was hardly more dangerous than a ham sandwich, well, maybe a little more because it was heavier.
Getting hit by a sandwich wouldn’t hurt.
Instead of backing up and scrambling to find cover, Jules again launched himself at Trent. If he was wrong, God help him, but at least his body would keep any bullets from harming his friends.
Trent clearly had been expecting him to retreat at the sight of his weapon, so he was completely startled.
Which helped because Jules’s attack was awkward there in the space between the open car door and the car.
There wasn’t any extra room to maneuver or even push the kid down, so Jules went with the time-honored knee to Trent’s nuts even as he clasped his hands together and brought his arms up, like a volleyball bump, to knock the gun out of Trent’s hands before the sandwich became a functioning weapon.
And sweet baby Jesus, it worked!
The gun went flying, up and over the open car door as Trent doubled over, pushing Jules out and down onto the street.
Which yes, was as not-soft as Jules had anticipated. But with Trent now on top of him, he scrambled to hold onto the other boy, to keep him incapacitated even as he shouted for someone, anyone to grab that gun before Trent could get it again.
“Freeze!” someone yelled. “Now!”
“Rod, don’t!” Jules heard Sadie shouting.
Hobbit chimed in. “Rod, give it to me!” as still atop Jules, Trent stopped fighting. He just completely froze.
Because, oh, shit, Rod was standing there, just a few feet away, gun held in a double-handed grip, that deadly little barrel aimed directly at Trent’s head.
“Get out of the way, Cassidy, so I can send this motherfucker to hell,” Rod said, and the look on his face was one Jules would remember for the rest of his life. He was dead serious.
“Oh, Rod, no.” Jules scrambled out from beneath Trent, but instead of moving away, he put himself as solidly as he could between the kid and the gun, even though his heart was racing.
Staring into that barrel was super un-fun.
“Let’s not make things worse,” he told Rod, trying to keep his voice as even and as calm as possible.
He looked behind Rod where Hobbit was standing, his hands outstretched. Sadie was beside him. “Please, Rod,” she whispered.
“Give that to Kevin,” Jules said as briskly as he could manage. “He knows how to handle guns safely. We really don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”
“Yeah, we kinda do,” Rod countered.
“You’re aiming at Jules,” Hobbit’s voice was tight. “One slip of your finger and you will kill him.”
“Nah, he’s not going to do that,” Jules said, but Rod spoke over him. “Then he should get the fuck out of the way.”
“Oof. Yeah, no, sorry, I can’t,” Jules said. “See, you’ve become a good friend, I know that might seem a little crazy, but... I really like you, Rod, and I’m not gonna let you ruin your life.”
Belle was there, back a bit further from Hobbit, her arm around Meg who was crying.
Shelly was there, too, video camera still flashing its red-record light.
Behind them was—whoa—the entire party-going contingent from the high school.
They’d come pouring out of the house to see what the hell was going on.
Okay.
Hello, captive audience.
Jules took a deep breath and tried to knock them back into the agreed-upon plan.
Get evidence that would prove Trent’s guilt, check; apprehend and detain the rapist, check; then call for backup.
“Who’s calling Mr. Harrison and my mom?” He raised his voice so it would carry to everyone watching. “I promised her we’d call her, too.”
“Tom’s inside, doing that,” Belle picked up on Jules’s need for volume, so she reported this in her usual crystal-clear stage voice. “Topher and Joey are helping him guard the evidence.”
“Good,” Jules said as he looked back at Rod.
“Come on, Rod. I don’t want to have to visit you in prison.
Besides, this piece of shit’s not worth your life.
He’s gonna go to jail for raping all those girls, we’re gonna make sure of that.
And if he doesn’t—if he slips through some fucked-up loophole?
Well, I personally will help you hunt him down and let you have at him.
” He glanced out over the crowd. “Please raise your hand if you’ll help. ”
But Rod was unswerving as behind him, Hobbit’s hand went up, with Sadie, Belle, Meg and Shelly close behind.
“Rod,” Jules said quietly. “Point that thing down at the ground and then turn and look behind you.” He glanced over his shoulder to where Trent was crying. “Hey, motherfucker, you might want to take a look at this too.”
Out in the street and on Carter’s front lawn, the entire soccer team—including Trent’s two friends from Ottersfield—had their hands up. And it was spreading, too—faster and faster now. Across the crowd, hands were going up as the explanation of exactly what Trent had done rippled through.
Trent was sniveling, and, yeah, he’d wet himself—no doubt because he fully believed Rod was going to kill him with his own gun. No doubt because he’d been fully prepared and willing to use it on them.
“Thank you,” Jules heard Hobbit say, and he looked back to see that, yes, thank God, Rod surrendered the gun to Hobbit.
Sadie and Meg both pulled Rod in for a very tight hug—as Jules met Hobbit’s eyes and managed a smile. Jesus, this could’ve been bad. But God, they did it. It was over.
But oh crap, Jules’s nose was bleeding. He wiped his face with the bottom of his shirt, wincing because, damn, it wasn’t just bleeding—it hurt.
Unfortunately, without the specter of instant death hanging over him, Trent got surly. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”
Oh, no. No, no.
Belle got loud. “It’s all on tape, asshole.”
But it was Hobbit, still holding that gun, who made the biggest impact by locking eyes with Trent and quietly saying, “You’re not the only one who knows the combination to their father’s gun locker,” as he expertly ejected the clip and cleared the chamber.
Belle held out her hand to pull Jules to his feet. There were enough other kids standing nearby, legs planted and arms folded across their chests, ready to grab Trent if he tried to run again.
Trent was less fierce now—Hobbit had delivered a hefty dose of serious badass—but he was still surly. “Is that a threat?
“No,” Jules said, speaking for all of them. “It’s a promise.”