The Minnesota Candidate (16 page)

“I knew we shouldn’t have walked in here. I
tried to tell you.”

“You did no such thing. Now shut up and let me
think. There has to be a way out of here.”

“Hurry up and find it. I have to go to the
bathroom.”

Marie felt as if her thumb had suddenly caught
fire and she shrieked in pain, flipping her hand and losing her
grip on the lighter. Once again, they were swallowed up in the
blackness. “Oh shit,” said Marie. “I dropped that damn lighter.
Help me find it.”

“Oh, that was real smart, Marie.”

“Shut up or I’ll punch you in the nose. I mean
it, Doris.”

“You go ahead and try it. I’ll gouge your eyes
out, you bitch. I never should have listened to you.”

“Shut up! Did you hear that?”

“Did I hear what?”

Blindly, Marie reached out and clutched Doris by
the arm. “I don’t know,” she groaned. “Just listen.”

The sound started slowly, like the chirping of
crickets on a warm summer evening. But these weren’t crickets. The
chirping was more of a cheeping and it was answered by the sound of
skittering feet. The cheeping began to echo off of the concrete
walls. “Rats!” cried Doris.

“Help me find that damned lighter!” screamed
Marie.

They nearly dove into the sand and both women
began to grope in the darkness. A full minute passed, and by this
time both women were wailing in terror. They found each other in
the darkness and they clung to one and other. Desperate, horrified,
they separated and resumed their search. “I found it!” screamed
Doris. “I found it!”

Marie could hear the sound of Doris trying to
light the lighter. To her ears, the flicking sounded muted. “Blow
out the sand,” she cried. “The wheel thingy is full of sand!”

Doris was too frightened to listen. She
continued flicking and she began screaming curses at the cheap
lighter. Suddenly, Marie’s hands found her own and they wrenched
the lighter away from her. “You bitch!” cried Doris.

Marie barely heard her. She held the lighter
under her mouth and began to blow as hard as her lungs would allow.
She blew until she was blown out and then she placed her thumb on
the wheel and gave it a tentative flick. The lighter flamed to life
and filled the cell with orange light. From all around them, rats,
fat ones and thin ones with long waxy tails, began scurrying back
into the shadows.

And Doris and Marie began to scream like they
had never screamed before.

Chapter 13

The Mercedes roared up the driveway and
screeched to a halt. Shari had to manually open the lifeless gate.
Tom was furious and he just hoped that Marie hadn’t slipped away.
He slammed on the brakes and both he and Shari charged up to the
house. Silently, they entered though the patio door and Tom pointed
to Marie’s suitcase of a purse. Shari began rummaging through it as
Tom searched the house. “Ma!” called Tom, trying to keep his voice
even. “Marie!”

Shari caught him in the hallway. “My gun wasn’t
in there,” she whispered.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find your gun,” said Tom,
not bothering to lower his voice. “I know you two are here,” he
called. “Come on out, we need to talk to you!”

He was answered with nothing but silence. They
searched the entire house and then they searched the grounds. Tom
even walked down and checked inside the boat. His mother and Marie
had seemingly disappeared.

“They must have gone to a pawn shop,” said
Shari. “That’s where they always go on television.”

Tom held up a finger. “You don’t think that my
ma was in on it, do you?”

“I wasn’t saying that. Marie probably tricked
her into going along.”

“Yeah, I’m sure she probably did. That Marie is
pretty tricky.”

“Your mom would never steal from us.”

“No, she wouldn’t. I know she wouldn’t.”

“And I know it, too,” said Shari, but suddenly
she wasn’t so sure of that. She stared up at her parent’s house and
pointed to it. “You don’t suppose…” she said.

Tom shook his head. “Not a chance.”

Shari nodded in agreement. “Let’s go find a
telephone book. I’ll bet Marie went to the nearest pawn shop.”

“And I’ll bet she lied to my ma about what she
wanted to pawn. She’s such a liar. I should have sent her packing
as soon as I saw her.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because, Shari, she’s my ma’s only friend.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean she’s a nice woman.
I don’t know what my ma sees in her. Come on, let’s find that phone
book.”

They walked back into the house and Shari found
the phone book. They had no idea there were so many pawn shops.
Undeterred, Tom began calling them up. By the time he had hung up
on the third try, his phone began to chirp. “Oh, this is just
great,” he growled.

“What do you mean?”

“My phone is going dead.”

“Don’t you have one of those car chargers?”

Tom shook his head. “I didn’t even have a car
until this week.”

“Maybe we should run out and buy one?”

“Did you see the Walmart parking lot? Holy
smokes, there were people parking half a mile away. We don’t have
time for that. We have to get back down to the house. They were
about to wrap things up and I want to talk to Sam.”

“Right, you have to talk to Sam. I just pray he
forgives me.”

“Sam is a good man with a big heart. Don’t
worry, honey, he’ll forgive you.”

“I hope so. I just feel so rotten about accusing
him like that.”

They walked out of the house and climbed back
into the Mercedes. Tom sped through the open gate, not bothering to
close it. Shari found more bad news on the BBC, but it was
delivered with a crisp British accent, which seemed to make it
slightly more palatable. Things were bad all across the European
Union, the economy was in shambles, but it appeared that things
were about to get a whole lot worse. Islamic extremists had taken
to the streets and were staging massive demonstrations. Hundreds
had been killed in these clashes and thousands more were
injured.

“You don’t suppose that something like that
could happen here?” asked Tom.

Shari shook her head. “I don’t really know, but
after what happened yesterday, anything is possible. Those people
want the world to convert to Sharia Law and they’re not going away.
They might be trying to use this economic crisis to their
advantage. The extremists might decide to try the same thing
here.”

Tom nodded his head and decided he had enough on
his mind already. His camel back brain was heavy with straw and he
couldn’t take the risk of it snapping. He thought of Sam and tuned
out the BBC anchors as they chip-chipped their way through the
news. He decided to take a direct approach with Sam. He hoped Sam
would understand why Shari had assumed he had taken her gun. He
would be hurt, but he would get over it. He wondered where his
mother and Marie had disappeared to. Maybe they had gone to
Marie’s? But if they had gone there, why hadn’t Marie taken her
purse? Tom thought about that and his stomach began to feel queasy.
Women didn’t go anywhere without their purses, not as far as he
knew, anyhow.

They drove past a long line of cars sitting on
the right shoulder. A Minneapolis police cruiser was parked blocks
ahead, lights flashing. Tom could see that the cop was directing
traffic at the fuel pumps of the Super America. He looked down at
his own fuel gauge and he grimaced. The needle of the gas gauge was
resting just above empty. As if on cue, the low fuel light popped
on.

Tom pulled down his mother’s street and was
surprised to find it nearly deserted. The yellow tape was gone, as
were the spectators and the big trucks and trailers. The new lawn
was in and the automatic sprinklers were busy misting the fresh
grass. Tom parked in front of the house and shut off the engine.
“It looks like they finished ahead of schedule,” he said, as they
stepped out into the humid air.

Shari stared up at the house and she smiled.
“This was a bad idea, but I’m so glad we did it. I think your mom
is going to be very happy here.”

“She had better be. She doesn’t have a choice in
the matter.”

Shari laughed at that and they walked up and
down the sidewalk, admiring the view from behind the sparkling new
chain link fence. Spiked into the lawn, the contractors had left
their calling cards, the little signs with their names and company
logos. Wishful thinking in this economy, thought Tom. Shari opened
the gate and Tom stepped inside. “Will you go in and see if you can
straighten things out?” asked Shari. “I think I’ll wait out
here.”

“I’ll handle it,” said Tom, feeling confident as
he stepped up to the open front door. “This won’t take long,” he
added.

“I hope not.”

Tom walked inside and was immediately amazed by
the transformation. He stepped out of his tennis shoes and left
them in the foyer. From where he stood, the house looked to be a
completed project. The pictures were hung and the carpet was
freshly vacuumed. There were knick-knacks on the shelves and tables
and the air smelled of roses. He paused in the dining room and he
ran his finger across the massive oak table. Everything was
perfect. He only wished his father was there to share in his
joy.

In his stocking feet, Tom stepped into the
kitchen and he nodded his head in approval. His mother’s kitchen
was larger and more elegant than his own. Stainless steel
appliances shone under marble countertops and glimmering new
cookware hung above the double sink. Tom popped open the pantry
door and found the shelves had been stocked to the brim with canned
foods and kitchen supplies.

Tom heard voices overhead and he walked upstairs
to investigate. Up in the hallway, Tom poked his head into the
guest bedrooms, each, a distinct work of art. The beds were made
and feeling mentally exhausted, they seemed to call out to him. Tom
heard the voices again and they were coming from behind the closed
door of the master bedroom. He thought of Sam and Chona and he
decided that he had better knock. Chona’s voice answered from
behind the door. “Come in,” she said.

Tom opened the door and found Chona standing on
the far side of his mother’s bed. Another woman stood by the
window, a paintbrush in one hand and a small can in the other. She
looked from Tom to the wall. “I think that’s it,” she said to
Chona, “unless there was something else?”

Chona shook her head. “Thanks Kelsey,” she said.
“As always, you did an awesome job.”

Kelsey thanked Chona and then she turned to
leave, giving Tom a frosty smile as she walked past him. Chona
walked into the master bath and stood there with the door open. Tom
thought Sam was in there, so he walked in behind her. “Where’s
Sam?” he asked, finding that they were alone in the bathroom.

“Sam is back at my house. We’re leaving for
Rochester as soon as I finish here.”

“Oh, well I was kind of hoping to talk to
him.”

“Haven’t you said enough?”

“You don’t understand. I’m pretty sure we know
what happened to Shari’s gun.”

“You’re pretty sure, huh? Does that mean you
think I took it?”

“I never said that.”

“Do you have any idea how hurt Sam is? Do you
even care? You know, I thought you and Shari were the exception to
the rule; that money hadn’t changed the two of you and that you
were different. Boy… was I ever wrong. You’re just a couple of
snobs. Is Shari here with you? I want to finish our business and
get the hell out of here. She still owes me some money.”

“Look Chona, Shari knows she flew off the handle
and she’s sorry for what she did. We know that Sam didn’t take
anything from us and we were hoping to try and make things right.
Shari has been under a lot of pressure and she just lost it. I know
that isn’t an excuse for the way she acted, but it is the
truth.”

“So, she doesn’t care that she made a grown man
cry?”

“Tom,” said Shari from over his shoulder, “would
you mind waiting for me, downstairs? I can defend myself, thank
you.”

Tom turned around and saw Shari standing in the
bedroom. She wore a fifty below zero expression and her hands were
clenched into fists. Tom walked to her and held up his hands. “Calm
down, honey,” he said, “let’s not turn this into an argument.”

“It’s kind of late for that,” she said, pointing
to the door.

Chona stepped from out of the bathroom and she
stood in the doorway. “Shari,” she said, “do not start with me.
I’ve had a bad day.”

Tom walked out into the hallway and Shari
slammed the door behind him. The screaming started before he had
reached the bottom of the stairs.

Their cell was no bigger than a small bedroom,
with a high ceiling and horseshoe pit for a floor. The walls were
fieldstone and mortar and they were covered in wet slime. Marie had
devised a way to make a torch out of strips of clothing, tying them
tightly to the end of her crowbar and setting them aflame. Half
naked and half crazy, the women pondered their predicament. The
rats seemed to be gone, at least for the time being, but a new
pestilence had reared its ugly head. Sand fleas, thousands of them,
had become almost as numerous as the grains of sand they stood in.
From the waist down, the women were covered in bright red rashes.
They itched and scratched, but nothing seemed to help. “This is all
your fault,” growled Marie. “Why do I ever listen to you?”

“My fault?” asked Doris, indignantly. “You were
the one who said we should go inside because the power was out. I’m
no brain scientist, but that sure was a stupid idea.”

“Brain surgeon,” corrected Marie. “And who are
you calling stupid? You’ve made a ton of stupid mistakes in your
life.”

Doris scratched an angry welt on the inside of
her thigh. “Yeah, well what about that time when you stole Bonnie
Miller’s car. We could have gone to prison for that.”