Authors: Travis Thrasher
“You coming with us?”
“I don’t have much of a choice.”
Ossie stood up and went into the kitchen. Kurt followed him, leaning up against a counter and trying to figure out the words to say to this guy. Trying to figure him out, period.
Ossie wasn’t afraid, Kurt knew that. He hadn’t been afraid since Sean and the rest of them had showed up several days ago. And he obviously wasn’t happy about their being there, messing up the life he’d worked so hard to build. He could easily have ratted them out to the cops. Instead, he’d helped them, let them crash in his apartment, hung out with them, agreed to go to Michigan with them. Something made him sure that he couldn’t refuse them, and Kurt kept wondering what that something was.
“Why do you have to do what Sean tells you?” Kurt asked.
Ossie flashed a sly smile. “Why do
I?
I don’t.”
“So then why don’t you leave?”
“I have a better question,” Ossie said. “Why don’t
you
leave?”
“It makes more sense for us to stick together. Even I know that.”
“Regardless of what Sean is planning.”
“What is he planning? What do you know?”
Ossie downed half his glass of soda and shook his head. “Nothing. Except my own conclusions.”
“Like what?”
“Your boy Sean there’s got a plan all right. I just don’t know that staying out of prison is at the top of his to-do list.”
“The stuff in Texas wasn’t all his doing.”
Ossie nodded, agreeing.
“And you won’t tell anybody the connection the two of you have,” Kurt said. “But whatever it is, it works. I have to give it to Sean to find people gullible enough—”
“Gullible?”
“Yeah, gullible enough to let him come back into your life and wreck it by helping him. Helping us.”
“There are a lot of things I am, fella, but gullible’s not one of them.”
“Do you owe Sean for something a long time ago?”
“Maybe.”
Kurt knew he wasn’t going to get any more out of Ossie. “Look, it’s your choice.”
“You’re right,” Ossie said. “It is my choice. But it’s a choice I gotta make.”
“I’m just trying to keep you from getting hurt.”
“You should watch your own back,” Ossie told him.
“I’m fine. Sean’s not going to do anything to me. Not yet. I’m the only one he knows who won’t do something stupid.”
“Think escaping Stagworth’s gonna make it easier?”
Kurt’s eyes shot up at Ossie’s calmly spoken question. “What do you mean?”
“What are you expecting when this is all done?”
Kurt shrugged.
“Think you’ll finally be a free man?” Ossie asked.
“Technically, I already am.”
Ossie chuckled. “That’s where you’re wrong, where all of you are wrong. None of us are free.”
“Really?” Kurt asked, a cynicism in his question, suddenly having an idea where this was headed.
“Just ’cause I got out—that doesn’t mean I’m innocent. And it doesn’t mean I’m a free man.”
“Look—”
“What?” Ossie asked.
“Spare me the religious talk, all right? I heard enough of that at Stagworth. It wasn’t enough I had to pay for my crime. I had to put up with people like you too—coming along and making me
feel even worse for them, you know?” Kurt let out a curse and shook his head.
Kurt walked back into the living room to watch television. He searched the news channels to see if there was any fresh news about the Stagworth Five, but he didn’t find anything. Not hearing anything was worse than hearing something. For all he knew, the authorities were in Chicago, outside Ossie’s apartment, just waiting until Sean and the others got back, preparing to bring them back in.
He heard Ossie’s words in his mind.
None of us are free
.
None of us
.
“Looks like the ocean, huh?”
“Kinda,” Kurt answered. “I guess.”
They sat on a bench near the Lake Michigan shoreline, watching people play on the beach. Kurt let the sun massage the portions of his face not hidden by beard as he squinted toward the water and wished he had sunglasses. He had tagged along when Sean said he wanted to see the lake.
“Up for swimming?” Sean asked him, rubbing his close-shaven head.
“I’m up for you telling me what’s going on.”
“With?”
“With everything. With ‘the plan,’ as you’re always calling it. With what we’re doing in Chicago.”
“We’re enjoying a nice summer day at the beach.”
“Why are we even here?” Kurt asked.
“I told you, it’s not—”
Kurt cursed. “Yeah, I got it; it’s not Texas. What? Is it because of Ossie?”
“Partially.”
“But why?”
“He’s got some ideas,” Sean said.
“Like what?”
“We’re heading to Michigan.”
“What for?” Kurt asked. “Any reason why?”
“This is a lot of attitude on a beautiful afternoon,” Sean said, his carefree demeanor angering Kurt.
He cursed again at Sean, trying to get his attention. “This isn’t a game we’re playing.”
“Life’s full of games. Games without frontiers.”
“And in Michigan, what do we do?”
“Lay low.”
“Until?”
“Until it looks safe. Until we stop getting profiled by
Newsweek
and
Time
and CNN. Until we can actually go our own ways.”
“Well, speaking of laying low, what are you going to do about Lonnie? He’s a loose cannon.”
“I’ll deal with him,” Sean stated.
“How?”
Sean lit up a cigarette, his usual routine when he was bored and needing something to do. Kurt cursed again, repeating the question.
“I’ll deal with him,” Sean repeated.
“What are you going to do with him?”
“Let me handle it.”
“The way you handled things back in Texas?”
Sean looked at him and appeared slightly rattled. “What’s the matter? Your conscience gettin’ to you? Or is it Ossie?”
“It’s not wanting to fry if we get caught. It’s not wanting to get sucked deeper into this hole we’re in, the one we’re making.”
“There’s no going back,” Sean said, taking a long drag.
“We don’t have to go deeper.”
“Let me worry about Lonnie and you worry about your soul.”
“My soul’s not the problem,” Kurt said.
“Relax, man. You of all people should trust me.”
“Sean, I don’t even know you.”
“You and me are a lot alike.”
“No we’re not. Don’t give me that.”
Sean laughed and stood up. He took off his shoes and walked on the sand.
“Kurt, you’re a free man, free to do anything you want. So relax
and enjoy this immaculate day. And let me worry about the downers.”
“Lonnie’s not just a downer. He’s dangerous.”
Sean nodded. “And that’s why he’s my problem.”
He slipped off his shirt to reveal a chiseled physique and walked off toward the water as Kurt looked on, wondering, worried, wishing he knew what the guy was thinking.
THERE WERE ROWS of railroad cars, lined up for at least half a mile. A web of tracks ran east-west, the cars mostly empty and slumbering. The paved road turned to dirt halfway down to the chain-link fence and continued past it into the train yard. Where it stopped, right at the edge of the railroad resting area, Sean and Lonnie sat in the murky darkness of the car. They had been there fifteen minutes before Lonnie got impatient with sitting and smoking and watching jets roar overhead en route to Chicagow O’Hare.
“What are we doing here?”
Sean stared out the car window as he smoked. “Waiting.”
“Waiting on who?”
He looked over at Lonnie and saw the sweat on his forehead. “Take one of those shirts off.”
“I’m fine.”
“This thing doesn’t have air.”
“I’m fine.” Lonnie stared out the open window, looking back up the dirt road they had parked on. “Waiting on who?”
“What’d be the point?”
“In what?”
“In telling you who we’re waiting for,” Sean said. “I tell you a name, you ask another question. I tell you who it is, you ask how
I know him. And on and on. Until it gets to a point where I can’t answer any more questions.”
“What’s the point of the meeting?”
“I can’t tell you that,” Sean said.
Lonnie cursed and talked a little about Sean’s grand plan and how lame it was getting to be.
“You know, even Kurt’s having doubts about you.”
“I haven’t heard them.”
“Of course you haven’t,” Lonnie said, his baby face still without much facial hair, even though he hadn’t shaved in days.
Ahead of them sat a train yard full of empty cars—boxcars and hopper-ore cars and even tank cars, most weather-worn and with painted graffiti on their sides. The freight trains lined up one after another, a dark, silent procession of empty, coffinlike boxes.
“What time is it?” Sean asked.
“You got a watch on. You tell me.”
“I want to make sure yours says nine forty-five.”
“Something like that, yeah.”
“Let’s go,” Sean said.
The doors opened, and they began to walk toward the trains. The empty cars gaped open like tombs, the dim light casting ghoulish shadows. Sean led the way.
“Where are we meeting this person?” Lonnie asked.
“A big red car with the letters ‘CTX’ on it.”
Lonnie nodded.
“Whose idea was this?”
“Oh, it was mine,” Sean said, his lips smiling.
Definitely my idea
, he thought.
They walked for a few minutes. Then Sean stopped and looked around.
“I think we might have passed it.”
Lonnie looked at him with wary eyes.
“Did you see a CTX car?”
Lonnie shook his head, standing still. “Might help if we had a flashlight.”
“Yeah,” Sean said, walking back past him as if to double-check the cars they had just walked by.
Simple business—that’s all this is
.
The sunlight was gone, and so was the noise of the day. Sean hadn’t seen anybody around, and that was good. That was very good. He had spotted this location a few days ago and liked it. He thought it would be a good place to hide, a good place to dispose of—
Stuff.
It was quiet, and Lonnie stood lighting up a cigarette. Sean couldn’t see the expression on the kid’s face, couldn’t see exactly where both of his hands were. He couldn’t see the eyes, but that was okay. He was pretty sure that Lonnie didn’t suspect a thing.
Sean continued to walk back and, as he did, slipped the nine millimeter out of the front of his jeans. Normally he’d be carrying a larger gun, but this one was small and could easily be hidden.
“Maybe we didn’t go far enough,” Sean said, turning around, only to feel a boot slam against his gut and send him sprawling back.
Lonnie was on him immediately. The nine millimeter fell from his hands and scooted off to the side, somewhere underneath one of the train cars.
Lonnie didn’t have a gun; Sean was sure of that. He had told him specifically to stay unarmed because they might be searched—a reason he made up. Lonnie had been a little curious, but not suspicious enough to go against Sean’s request.
“Think it’d be that easy, huh?” Lonnie spat out, his bony knees on Sean’s chest as he punched him in the face a couple of times. “Gonna just get rid of me like that, huh?”
Lonnie got in one more punch before Sean landed a knee in Lonnie’s side and stopped him long enough to push him off. Lonnie scrambled over to the car where the pistol had landed. But the train yard was way too dark, the nine millimeter way too gone. And Sean was reaching for the small thirty-eight special he had strapped into a calf holster.
He raised the thirty-eight as Lonnie got to his feet. But instead of fighting, as Sean thought he would, the tall guy bolted the other way and sprinted off.
Sean followed.
For several minutes, he followed the rapid strides past car after car, over train tracks and through unhooked cars. It was a blurry, jerky chase, his lungs sucking in air, his hands trying to hold the thirty-eight steady.
Lonnie turned and ran down an open area that was long and wide enough for Sean to get off a couple shots. He knew they didn’t find their mark. He wasn’t a great marksman to begin with, and hitting a moving target like Lonnie would be nearly impossible.
After the second shot, Lonnie scrambled underneath a train car, then got back to his full stride and ran off.
Sean tried to do the same but tripped over the tracks and found himself tumbling over stone and dirt next to the train. He landed on an elbow and a palm, cutting and ripping both, but he didn’t lose the gun. Finding his feet, he headed in the direction where Lonnie had gone. He couldn’t see anything. He ran for a few moments straight ahead, then stopped and listened.
Only his ragged breaths and the pumping, pounding sound of his heart in his ears could be heard.
He ran ahead, then stopped, listened, and waited.
Nothing.
Sean looked underneath the train cars, went through another, went down another path.
Lonnie was gone.
He shook his head, woozy from Lonnie’s punches. His cut palm throbbed. He tried to slow his breathing and listen harder.
Silence.
Lonnie was close by. Sean knew it.
He walked so that he couldn’t be seen, and barely heard. He checked in each car as he walked by it.
I know you’re out there
.
But he couldn’t hear him. And he could barely find enough light to make his own way ahead.
Sean spent another half-hour stepping quietly, listening, waiting, standing still. Nothing.
What are you thinking, Lonnie?
Could the guy just disappear like that? That easily?
He’ll get caught. I know it
.
That was one thing to worry about.
But Lonnie didn’t know where they were going. That was good.
He’ll try to find us
.
Sean wasn’t sure about that. But Lonnie was probably beyond angry now. He was personally violated. He probably would try to find them. And that would be a problem. It was important that nobody find them where they were headed.
Nobody.
Sean found the road they had driven in on. The Ford was still parked where he had left it. He approached the vehicle quietly, thinking Lonnie might be in it. But he wasn’t.