The Minnesota Candidate (18 page)

“Okay, okay, just calm down,” said Tom, pulling
behind Shari’s red BMW 760. He shifted into park and was just about
to say something when Shari practically leapt from the vehicle.

“I don’t want to talk,” she said. “I need to
cool down.”

Tom watched as Shari hopped into her car and
sped off down the street. He put his head into his hands when the
Mercedes low fuel alarm began to chime. He looked at the gauge and
saw the needle had fallen below empty. “Oh shit,” he grumbled. Tom
knew he had to find a gas station. He drove down to Lowry Avenue
and took a right. He then continued down Lowry, crossing the river
into North Minneapolis. He reasoned to himself that he had a better
chance of finding fuel in that part of town. The old neighborhood
had fallen on hard times and most people avoided that part of town.
Tom had never had any trouble over there, so he thought he should
be safe.

The streets were nearly empty, but the sidewalks
were full of people. To Tom, they all looked like gang members,
even though he wouldn’t have known one if he met one. One thing was
certain: they all seemed to take a keen interest in the black
Mercedes. Quickly, Tom put on his tough-guy face. He drove deeper
into the bad part of town. He knew of a convenience store with gas
pumps that he thought was just ahead. Ten long blocks later, Tom
spotted the store. He let his breath out as he rolled up next to
the pumps. The Mercedes began to cough and sputter. Before he could
shift into park, the engine died. Tom flipped open the lever for
the fuel door and he stepped out onto the pavement.

“We got no gas!” called an Asian man from the
door of the store. “You look somewhere else!”

Tom stared stupidly at the little signs posted
at the pumps.
NO GAS
was printed crookedly across recipe
cards that had been taped onto the pumps. With his heart in his
shoes, Tom walked up to the door of the convenience store. He then
stepped inside. “Can I use your telephone?” he asked.

The Asian man shook his head. “Phone no work.
You no listen to radio? Phone no work all over town.”

“Oh crap.”

“Oh crap is right; this all very crappy. You
move car now. No gas here.”

“But I’m out of gas. My car is dead at your
pumps.”

The short man walked out from behind the counter
and he stood in front of him, sizing him up. He wore a white shirt
over white slacks and he wore his black hair in a bowl cut. He
looked around Tom and studied the Mercedes. He returned his
attention to Tom. “You not from around here, are you?”

“No, I’m actually from Northeast.”

“Long walk back to Northeast, very dangerous.
You got fifty dollar? I get you ride back to Northeast.”

“I don’t have any cash, but I do have credit
cards.”

“Credit card no good. Credit card no work,
anymore. The bank shut them off.”

Tom felt as if he had just been punched. “What
do you mean? When did this happen?”

“Two hour ago, very bad for business. I’m sorry,
I can’t help you. You go now.”

Tom turned and walked to the door. Just as he
was about to leave, another voice spoke from an open door behind
the register. The storekeeper began arguing with the voice. Tom
didn’t understand a word of what was being said, but the argument
quickly became heated. Tom wanted no part of this and he walked out
the door. When he did, he startled two kids on bicycles that had
stopped next to the Mercedes. He raised his chin and gave them a
stern look and they quickly rode away. Nearby, Tom heard the sound
of gunshots.

“You get back here,” said the storekeeper. “I
give you ride home. We locking up, take five minute.”

“Thank you so much,” he said. “I’ll pay you
back. I swear to God I will.”

“You die if I no drive you home. This very bad
neighborhood, you fool for driving here.”

Tom nodded his head as the man disappeared back
into the store. He felt like a fool. How would he explain all of
this to Shari? If this station was out of gas, how long before the
other pumps in the city would run dry? Tom wondered if that hadn’t
already happened. How would they get the Mercedes home? Sirens
sounded in the distance. Tom felt a hand on his shoulder and he
spun around. A haggard-looking white woman stood there, black roots
sprouting under blonde hair, smiling with what remained of her
corn-yellow teeth. She had dark circles under her eyes and was
dressed in a rumpled mini skirt. “Got a cigarette?” she asked.

Tom shook his head. “No,” he mumbled. “Um… I
don’t smoke.”

“Do you got twenty bucks? Wanna have a good
time?”

“What? Oh my God, no, I don’t want to have a
good time. I’m a married man.”

“And I’m a married woman, big deal. Come on, you
got ten bucks? I really need a pack of smokes.”

The door opened behind Tom. The storekeeper
waved his keys at the “What I tell you about bothering customer?
You get lost, dirty woman. Don’t you ever come back!”

“No need to have a cow, man,” said the dirty
woman. “I’m going.”

Tom watched her as she walked away and wondered
how someone like that survived. The thought gave him chills and he
found that he felt sad for the woman. Obviously, she had made bad
decisions, but what crooked path had she taken to end up where she
was? As he was thinking this, a throng of brown-skinned men wearing
long robes walked across the street toward the parking lot. The
woman stiffened, but continued walking in a collision course. Tom
estimated that there were perhaps thirty men in the group, many had
their faces covered. “Get inside!” shouted the shopkeeper. Tom
quickly obeyed and he jogged back into the store.

The store had windows on two sides and Tom ran
to the windows that overlooked the street. He watched in horror as
the men in robes began to surround the woman. Although he couldn’t
hear them, it appeared as if they were shouting at her. Tom watched
as one of the men hurled something at the woman. Whatever it was,
hit her in the side and she doubled over in pain. She screamed and
despite of the glass that separated them, Tom easily heard her. Her
scream was cut short by another thrown stone. The men were soon
scouring the crumbling blacktop and throwing whatever they could
find. The woman held her arms over her face, but as the hailstorm
continued, she was knocked off of her feet. “We’ve got to help
her,” he cried, but he knew there was little they could do.

“No telephone!” shouted the shopkeeper. “We go
out there, we be killed!”

Tom turned away from the window and covered his
face. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and his entire body
shook. He had never felt as weak and helpless as he did at that
moment. He didn’t know how long he wept, but when he dried his eyes
and looked back outside, the men were gone. The woman lay where she
had fallen, her limbs tangled and bloody, her face pressed into the
asphalt. He stared at her for a long moment. She wasn’t moving.
Somebody’s daughter, thought Tom.

The Asian man was suddenly standing next to him.
He looked out the window and shook his head. “That poor woman,” he
said. “Those men are animals.”

Tom turned away from the window and thought he
was going to be sick. After he had gathered himself, he thanked the
short man for saving his life. “My name is Tom Picacello,” he said,
offering the store owner his hand.

The shopkeeper shook it. “Bing Louie,” he
replied. “And you are welcome. My father say we should wait fifteen
minute, very dangerous out there. Come on, I get you cold drink.
You look like you could use it.”

Tom nodded and followed Bing Louie to the glass
cooler. He slid open the door and pulled out two bottles of water.
He handed one to Tom and the two men drank. Above them, the lights
flickered and then they went out. The humming sound from the
coolers ground to a halt. Bing sighed and shook his head.

Shari parked her car in the garage and walked
into the house. She called for Doris and Marie, but the house
answered with silence. Shari had wept on her way home and had used
up all of her tears. She felt thoroughly defeated. She thought
about checking her bank account, but she knew the check she had
written would bounce. Still, she thought her bank would cover the
overdraft. She had always been one of their best customers and she
had never written a bad check in her life; until today, she
thought, bitterly.

She felt tired, but she knew she couldn’t sleep;
Shari also felt hungry, but she knew she couldn’t eat. She wandered
around the house and found herself inside Doris’ bedroom. The room
was a disaster; the bed was a tangle of sheets and blankets and
there were dirty clothes strewn all over the room. Shari stared at
the mess and was suddenly struck with an idea. What if Doris had
taken her gun? Before she could stop herself, Shari was searching
through her mother in-law’s things. It wasn’t long before she found
the canvas shopping bag. “You dirty skunk,” whispered Shari.

She brought the shopping bag into her own
bedroom and she dumped it out on top of the bed. Her head thrummed
with an anger Shari had never known. She picked up the Sig Sauer
P238 and racked a cartridge into the firing chamber. And at that
moment, she wished Doris would walk in through the door. She held
the gun in a shooter’s stance and very nearly pulled the trigger.
Finally, she unloaded the Sig and she returned it to its hiding
place under the bed.

She then began returning the other pilfered
items to where they had been stolen from. Shari was shocked at how
much Doris had stolen. As she put things away, Shari began to
notice other things that were missing. Fuming, she marched into the
bedroom that Marie had slept in. This room was also a mess. After a
short search, Shari lifted the mattress and she screamed at her
discovery. The top of the box spring was sprinkled with jewelry,
Shari’s jewelry. She gathered it up in her trembling hands. She
felt dizzy with rage and for a moment, Shari experienced
tunnel-vision. She sat down on the unmade bed and gathered her
thoughts.

She returned the jewelry to where it belonged,
but she continued her search. She searched every inch of both
rooms. When she finished, Shari marched into the living room and
she opened up the not-so secret passageway. When her eyes fell upon
the extension cord, she began to rant and curse, like a raving
lunatic. Words came out of her mouth that she had never imagined
saying. She tried the light switch, but the power was still off.
She walked out to the garage and found her big flashlight and she
returned to the open bookcase. She then walked down the stone
stairs and into the tunnel. She followed the cords all the way to
the spiral staircase. On the top stair she found her ruined
chainsaw. The wooden wall was chewed up and splintered, but it was
still intact.

Shari left the chainsaw where it was and she
returned to her living room. The thought of closing the bookcase
seemed laughable and for the first time in her life, Shari left it
standing open. She walked into the kitchen and she poured herself a
glass of wine. Then, like a dehydrated wino, she slugged it down.
She then poured herself another glass.

She sat down at the dining room table and she
stared out at the lake. Sipping her wine, Shari thought of all they
had done for Tom’s mother. They were now nearly destitute because
of her and the thought of it sickened Shari’s stomach. She thought
about divorcing Tom, but she quickly reconsidered. He had done
nothing wrong and couldn’t be held responsible for what Doris had
done. Shari decided that once she dropped Doris off at her new
home, she would wash her hands of the woman. Tom would be free to
visit his mother as often as he liked, but she would have nothing
more to do with her. Shari found that her mood improved with the
thought. She finished her wine and returned to the kitchen for
another glass.

She refilled her glass and she hovered inside
her refrigerator; eating two slices of cheese and a few chunks of
cubed watermelon. The cool air felt good on her skin. Without air
conditioning, the house had grown warm and stuffy. In her anger,
Shari was now only noticing it. She picked up her glass and
drank.

And then all of the pieces fell into the
puzzle.

Shari felt as if she had just been struck with
lightning. She drained her glass and ran up the stairs. She ran
straight into her bedroom and she flung open her underwear drawer.
Shari ran her hands down to the bottom and whooshed them around,
but something was amiss, just as she had known it would be. The
keys were gone. She pulled the drawer from the dresser and she
dumped her underwear on the bed. But there was no sign of the
missing keys. Triumphant, furious, and thoroughly disgusted, Shari
disrobed and changed into a pair of blue jeans and a cotton blouse.
She pulled on a pair of socks and an old pair of Nikes. She then
walked back down the stairs and finished her wine.

She picked up the flashlight and walked out into
the heat of the day. The clouds were breaking up and the air was
thick with humidity. Shari barely noticed it. She walked across the
lawn in the direction of her parent’s house. For all these years,
Shari had been able to avoid stepping back in there. Now, she had
no choice but to go inside; she had to protect her parent’s things
from a pair of felonious scoundrels. That thought brought her anger
to a nuclear level. Her arms swung at her sides as she charged up
the lawn.

Shari ran up the massive staircase to the stout
wooden door. The missing keys were still hanging in the lock. Shari
was about to fly through the door, but a memory stopped her. Her
hand shot to her mouth and she began to laugh. She had nearly
forgotten the old security system and she wondered if it still
worked. She was fairly certain it did, being mechanical and
untethered to the electrical grid. She dropped to her knees and let
go of the flashlight. Still laughing, Shari raised her fists into
the air and she shook them. She remained in that position until she
was able to get herself back under control. She then picked up the
flashlight and rose to her feet.