Chapter 37 – Bam
Chapter Thirty-Seven
BAM
Mr. Patton is motionless in the dirt. I take him by his legs and drag him over to the porch. He wakes up halfway there and starts wriggling.
“Rebel, shoot this dumbass in the head if he moves anymore.”
Josie pumps the shotgun, the clink of the metal sliding over metal rings loud in the evening.
Mr. Patton immediately falls still. Without the old man moving, it’s easy work for me to get his body next to the porch.
Quickly, I fasten his legs to a footing and secure his hands behind his back, and we leave him lying face down in the dirt.
It’s possible he could get away, but it’d be hard.
I retrieve the gun from Josie and hand her my phone. “There’s no service out here, but your dad was going to come in from the west. Maybe when we’re closer, service will pop up, and we can call him.”
“I was just getting used to the gun,” she jokingly complains but flips to her contacts and gets her dad’s number ready to dial.
“I was surprised you knew how to chamber the shell.”
“My dad taught me. You can’t have guns in the house and not have everyone know how to use them. It’s a safety issue.”
We start toward the tree line. Josie holds her phone up, swings around, curses under her breath, and then I hear a yelp. “I have a bar. Two of them!”
She presses the dial button. I try to filter out all the sounds of nature to listen for a ring.
At first, all I hear is wind, chirping of birds, and some crickets, but then, to my left, there’s a mechanical human-made noise.
Josie must have caught it before me because she’s running in that direction.
“Be careful,” I yell. “There may be traps.”
Josie slows up. When I reach her, she’s found a long stick which she uses to tap the ground in front of her.
“This is going too slow.”
“He’s not far off. The ring is closer.”
“Dad! Dad!” she yells.
“I’m here,” we hear in return. “Be careful! There are traps!”
Josie heaves a long sigh but continues to tap while shouting, “You okay? Are you hurt?”
“Not bad. Just some bruised pride.”
We’re close enough now that we see him, caught up above our heads in a net. He’s curled up in a ball, but his left leg is stuck at a weird angle. Josie lets out a cry and drops the stick as she rushes forward.
“Dad, Dad, your leg,” she wails.
“It’s okay, Josie baby. It’s just a little sprain.”
More like a break. I lean the gun against the tree trunk and start shimmying up. “You got a knife, sir?”
“Yeah, but it fell out of my pocket.”
“I found it.” Josie runs over. I reach down and tuck it into my boot.
“You’re going to have to start carrying a weapon,” Abe jokes. His voice is weak and reedy. Sweat is dotting his forehead. He’s in real pain.
“I’ll just stick close to you and borrow yours when necessary.” When I reach the branch the net is hung on, I ease myself out just far enough to be able to start sawing at one side.
“Why not just attack the knot?” Abe suggests.
“Because we don’t want you crashing down and breaking your back. I’m going to cut away enough rope to loosen the net, and then you can let yourself down gently.”
“I’ll catch you, Dad,” Josie calls from the ground.
“I can handle it,” he grunts back. The man’s voice is getting thinner. I saw faster, and the rope begins to give way. I get enough loose that Abe will be able to slip free and drop down myself, helping the older man ease his way to the ground.
“I’m calling 911,” Josie says, settling down next to her dad. “What can I do to make you more comfortable?”
“Nothing, Josie girl. Just having you here makes me feel good. Took about five years off my life when I realized you were missing.”
“I’m going back.” I palm the knife again.
“What?” Josie shakes her head, and her dad gives me a worried look.
“There are the other guys that are missing. They must be on the property.”
“Don’t go. It’s not safe.” Josie grabs at my leg.
“I have to. The old man is tied up. It’s going to be fine.”
“Let him go, Josie, but give him the gun.”
“No. I’ve got this, and trust me, I’ve faced a lot worse than that old man.
” I pull up my T-shirt and show Abe my tattoo.
“I’ve been part of the Riders since I was thirteen.
I’m not an angel, sir. Far from it. My main way of earning money is chasing down people that owe money to the Riders for drugs, weapons, protection.
” I shrug. I haven’t ever felt ashamed before, but I do sitting in front of Josie’s dad.
He’s a real man, doing a real job, and I’m…
a high school thug who probably won’t even graduate.
“It’s been the only life I’ve known for a long time, and it’s real hard to leave.
” I don’t know if he understands what I’m saying, that once you are part of the Riders, you are always part of it because you know secrets, you know things that could put your brothers in jail, because you’ve done things that could send you to prison.
Josie’s dad reaches up and pats my face.
“Son, I’ve known who you are for a long time, and I’m okay with it.
None of us are perfect. The fact is when you told me you don’t use any weapons, it set my mind at ease.
You did what you could to survive, but I can see you’ve got a good heart, and you treat Josie like I want her to be treated.
I’m not going to ask for anything from you that you can’t give.
Just love Josie and protect her. That’s all. ”
I nod because my throat’s too thick to get words past.
“You two are so sappy you might as well be girls.” Josie slaps me across the arm, but her eyes are suspiciously wet.
I swoop in for a kiss and then take off toward the homestead before she, or her dad, can get another punch in.
It takes me no time to arrive because I just shed about fifty pounds of worry and dread.
Mr. Patton is still on the ground. I watch him out of the corner of my eye as I head into the barn.
There are no rooms or stalls. It’s a completely open structure without even a loft.
If the boys are being held here, it’s underneath the floor.
I start at the entry and stomp my way around, listening for a hollow, empty sound.
I almost give up hope when, in the far corner, I nearly trip over a latch. There’s a lock around the closure.
I race out until I reach Cole’s dad.
“You’re going to hell, young man,” he says matter-of-factly when I get close.
“I know.” I haven’t lived a saintly life, that’s for sure. I resecure the ropes around his feet and hands before patting his back pockets for keys.
“My Cole was a good boy but then got lured to the dark side. I had to save him.”
“By killing him?” It was a good thing I was abandoned if this is how parents act. The back pockets are empty. I roll him to one side and feel in the front.
“It was an accident. God knows it was an accident.”
“He was strangled. Doesn’t seem like that was much of an accident.” The left pocket has the keys.
“I love him. He’s my boy. I’m going to join him in heaven.”
The man’s fanaticism sends chills up my spine. I take the keys and leave him behind. He’s yelling that he loves his son, loves Cole, but you do not kill the people you love. You protect them. You lay down your life for them. The kind of love Cole’s old man talks about is a sickness.
I unlock the padlock and throw open the hatch. A boy flies up, nearly beaning me in the face with something sharp. I scramble back and throw up my arms. “I’m on your side. I’m a good guy.”
The boy’s face is gaunt but feral. There’s a makeshift spike in his hand that looks like a piece of wood gnawed into a sharp, painful point. His downward motion is halted when he hears the chink of a shotgun pumped.
“Don’t even think about it or I’ll shoot your head off,” comes the loud, sweet voice of my beloved. “We’re here to save you.”
The boy turns around to see Josie standing in the entrance of the barn with the barrel of the long arm pointed toward him. The boy sways, probably from hunger. I jump up and grab the weapon and throw it aside.
With my hands on my hips, I say, “We’re here to help. Sit down before you fall down. I’ll get the others.”
His lips frame a snarl. “Where’s the fuck-ass Cole and his dad? I’m going to kill both of them.”
“Cole died. His dad killed him. Should we keep talking or do you want me to help your friends?”
That news shuts the boy up. I drop into the cellar and find four other boys lying almost lifeless.
The dank basement smells like feces and piss.
I pick up the first one and head toward the opening.
A ladder drops down. I look up to see the face of Josie and the boy who have decided, literally, to lay down the weapons and work together.
With teamwork, we’re able to lift all four of the boys out of the cellar.
“Emergency services said they would send another vehicle.”
“They need it.”
The one boy that tried to attack me has lost all his energy and sits against the wall with a smaller boy’s head in his lap.
I don’t know any of these kids, although one of them has a Pipefitter tat on his arm.
The other guys, including the attacker, are unmarked.
They’re all pretty tall, and it makes me think they must have met each other playing basketball on the streets.
“Rebel, you got a piece of paper on you?”
“Am I a journalist in the making?” She digs in her pocket and hands me a tiny notebook with a tinier pen. I eye it dubiously. She sighs and says, “What do you want me to write?”
I recite the address and take the paper over to the boy that tried to stab me in the eye.
“If you’ve got no place to go, no family, you can go here.
Nothing legal happens there, and once you’re in, you can’t leave, but we watch out for each other.
” I look down at the smaller boy. “If you’ve got something to protect, it’s not a bad place. ”
The sirens of an emergency services vehicle whine in the distance. Hearing rescue is near, the boy gives in to his exhaustion and closes his eyes. I leave him to his rest and join Josie.
“Sometimes, the street boys have to stick together.” I shrug. She reaches up and cups my cheek.
“You’re a good boy,” she says.
“I’m not.” But I lean into her hand.
“A good boy,” she repeats. And I let her say that because I want to be. For her.