03.05.06
Saturday morning broke over the park like waves crashing over a sandcastle, bringing with it unseasonably warm temperatures, sunshine, and a gentle breeze. Chuck pulled himself out of bed slowly, not wanting to break his embrace with Emma. She rolled over tiredly, and pushed her hair back from her face.
“What time is it?” she asked, voice thick with sleep. In the kitchen Chuck started making a pot of coffee.
“Nine-thirty. Later than I thought I would sleep today.”
Emma started pulling herself together.
“I have to go pick up Jordan. He’s probably itching to get at his drum machines.” She pulled her shoes on. “I’m going to spend the day with him today, and make sure he understands what is going to happen tonight. Do you want to come over for lunch?”
“Sure. That sounds good.”
“Come by around one o’clock. We usually eat later on Saturdays.” She leaned over and kissed him hard, on the cheek.
“Don’t worry so much. Whatever else happens, we still have today. Tonight will take care of itself.”
Chuck attempted a smile, managing but a weak facsimile. “Thanks. I’ll see you at noon.” Emma slid out the door.
Chuck stood alone in the trailer, unsure of what to do next. He made a breakfast of cold cereal, took a shower, all those routine things that one does to make one feel normal, like it was just another day. In his sock drawer he found the silver pocket watch, one of the few things he had kept from his father’s possessions. He held it tightly in his fist, feeling the cold, hard weight of it, before opening it, checking the time. It was still in perfect synch to the rest of the world, or at least the Eastern Standard time zone. He shut it and clipped it to his belt loop, feeling happier to have the weight of it.
Walking to the office, he felt slightly like a general surveying the field of battle. He could see the trailer park inhabitants made soldiers patrolling the fences, walking through the rows of trailers. He shook his head, happy that no one was scheduled to arrive today. He would have a hell of a time explaining this to outsiders. He unlocked the office, and busied himself making a pot of coffee. He listened to the creek of the door swinging open, and caught himself flinching. Will and Animal stepped in.
“Anybody home?” Will called out.
“Yeah,” Chuck leaned out of the back room, relieved to see his friends. “But really, it’s an office, so really you should say ‘anybody office?’ not home. Coffee?” Will and Animal nodded their heads eagerly. Chuck went back to the pot. “How did you two sleep?” Chuck shouted above the noise of the running tap.
“Okay. Will snores like a bear, though. Woke me up a few times.”
“Sorry,” said Will. “I started snoring when I was ten. I believe I get louder every year.”
Chuck tried to stifle a laugh. “Well, I’m glad to have you guys here.”
“So, what are we going to do today? Everything is ready for tonight, we have nothing to do,” said Animal.
“I believe this is known as the calm before the storm,” said Chuck. A serious look crossed Will’s face. “It’s not too late to call this off, get the police involved.” Chuck shook his head.
“They have the mayor on their side, and police members too. This is the way it has to be, beating them on our terms, not theirs.”
“I just hope it doesn’t become too physical,” said Animal. “I mean, I can take care of myself in a fight, but I’d rather not.”
“With any luck they will realize that they are beat before it ever gets to that. I guess we will know this time tomorrow.” His train of thought was interrupted by Robert. “Hi, everybody,” he said. “I see the annual meeting of mopes anonymous is meeting here.” The others greeted Robert. “What are you guys doing now? Nothing? Just moping?”
“It seems like a moping sort of day,” said Animal.
“Listen, it’s a beautiful day. The sun is out, it’s amazingly warm. I propose a field trip,” said Robert.
“Where to,” asked Chuck. “I sort of wanted to keep close to the park today, in case anything happened,” said Chuck.
“Listen, the Promised Ones will not bother us today. They are nothing more than rats that will sneak around in the night. Today they will probably spend the day praying for a glorious victory or something. Will, we can all fit in your truck, right?” Will nodded his head.
“Of course, it’s a really big truck.”
“Well, that settles it. Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?” asked Will.
“You will see it when we get there. Vamanos!” Robert herded them through the door and waited patiently while Chuck fiddled with the lock. They all piled into Will’s truck, Will and Robert in the front, with Chuck and Animal in the back like a pair of sullen teenagers. Will’s truck roared to life.
“Where to, Robert?”
“Just head downtown, and keep on going.”
“All right, Robbie.”
“Will,” said Robert.
“Yes?”
“Do I really seem like the sort of person who answers to the name Robbie?”
“Not as such, no.” Will tried to keep a smirk off of his face with mild success. In the back seat a snicker escaped from Animal, and Chuck let out a tension relieving giggle. Soon the whole truck was laughing out loud, spurred on by Robert’s mock protests.
The city was exploding with life. The streets were packed with people out enjoying the spring-like late fall weather. Families were taking walks, couples were strolling arm-in-arm with one another, and university students were grabbing morning cups of coffee in an effort to shake off last night’s binge. They passed through downtown, and entered the quiet, peaceful suburbs that lay beyond.
“So, you brought us on an exciting trip to suburbia?” asked Animal from the back.
“We are not there yet. Just be patient,” replied Robert.
They continued for a few minutes until Robert pointed out a driveway for Will to turn down. The gently rolling, still green hills of the cemetery lay out before them. Chuck felt his stomach tighten as he realized where Robert was taking them. Robert gently guided Will along the roads until they came to a gently shaded patch near the back. Slowly, and respectfully, the group got out of the truck and followed Robert’s he led them delicately among the graves to the place where Charlie lay.
It was neatly tended, more so than many other graves in the vicinity. It was obvious that someone had been coming to take special care of the lot. The four stood silently, gazing down at the stone, recently installed. It read “Here likes Charlie XXXXXXX, husband, friend, father.”
“I thought you should see this,” said Robert quietly. “Someone from the park comes by once a week to make sure it is maintained, and that there are fresh flowers in the vase. The whole funeral was taken care of by people from the park, we took up a collection. It wasn’t fancy, but then again, neither was your father.”
“I could pay them back,” suggested Chuck. He knew that money was tight for many people in the park. They shouldn’t have been burdened with this as well. It
wasn’t really fair. Robert shook his head gravely. “No one would accept it. Everyone gave what they could because they loved your father. I thought you would want to see how much your father was respected and loved. You didn’t get a chance to meet him, you don’t know him at all, but that park was his legacy, a legacy to you. You asked me if we were doing the right thing. Here is your answer. The people who live in the park are the sort of people who do this.” He gestured down to the perfectly groomed plot. “So, to answer your question, are we doing the right thing? Yes, we are absolutely doing the right thing. Those men do not deserve our park, they do not deserve to throw us out. Charlie would not have let it happen. I don’t think you will either.”
“Thanks, Robert.” Chuck knelt down and traced the words carved into the tombstone, lingering over the word father. Will, Animal and Robert took a few steps back, giving Chuck a modicum of privacy. Chuck stood suddenly, and faced his friends, eyes red-rimmed.
“Let’s go,” he said quietly. They left the cemetery silently, each lost in their own internal thoughts, remembering other friends lost throughout the years.
They returned to the trailer park and took a stroll, asking people how things were going, if anything was happening yet. It was still nothing more than a quiet, peaceful day.
Chuck left the others to go and have lunch with Emma. Her trailer was rich with the aroma of lunch cooking, a thick beef stew. Chuck was quiet most of the meal, feeling surprisingly nervous around Jordan. Chuck had not spent much time around children, and he realized he had little to say. Jordan did not seem very interested in being friends with Chuck either. He ate as quickly as possible, and hurried to his room to work on his music.
“Well, that went great,” said Chuck.
“Don’t give up so easily. We’ve been alone together for a long time. He isn’t used to having anyone else around. He doesn’t want to share me with anyone.”
“I understand,” said Chuck, and was surprised to realize that he actually did. He would just have to keep on trying. And he would.
Malcolm flicked on the overhead light and was relieved to see the glow of a naked sixty watt bulb shine through the basement, into its darkest corners. It had been years since he had been down there, with its open ceiling exposing bare wood and wires, plumbing and rot, and it’s crudely painted cinder block wall, it was not an inviting place. He walked down the stairs carefully, listening to them crack and groan as he put his weight on them. Finally he made it to the bottom, and surveyed the mess. He used his basement for storage, and storage only. Boxes and boxes of junk were piled against the walls. He had initially stacked everything neatly, then messily, until finally he had started to just throw things down from the top of the stairs. He looked around until he saw a likely collection of boxes heaped together in the corner. He could just make out faded letters that read “childhood junk” in his crude handwriting.
Box after box he emptied, searching through the detritus of his boyhood. He attempted to feel a sense of nostalgia for that period of his life, tried to remember happy, bucolic times paying with schoolyard chums, but it was in vain. He had had an unhappy, lonely childhood, and had grown up to be an unhappy, lonely man.
There.
His hands reached in to the bottom of an old Commodore 64 box. A corner of black material had peeked out through the junk it contained. His hand closed around the smooth, stretchy material, and pulled it gently up. He smiled, a big, true honest smile, the first proper smile he could remember in ages. He had found it.
Night fell over St. Catharines. Car after car rolled into the Promised Ones parking lot, but far fewer than Cider, watching through a dusty window, was hoping for. Men pulled themselves out of their cars, nervously cradling baseball bats, golf clubs, and tire irons, holding them close as though afraid to be seen with them. They entered the clubhouse in two’s and threes, some muttering under their breath about the necessity of their actions. Most were there out of some ill-founded loyalty to Cider. While it was true that he was in many ways responsible for their spiritual salvation, they were not comfortable with the path he was currently on. It was not the path of a True Christian. It was not the path they thought they should be on. But still, they filed into the great hall, clutching their weapons of thrash destruction, and waited for their leader. Perhaps twenty or thirty members arrived, as Cider paced back and forth in the library, face becoming more twisted with each turn, with each minute that passed without another car pulling into the driveway. Finally he steeled himself, tried to relax his visage, and went down to meet his Promised Ones.
The group was hushed as Cider strode purposefully to the front of the room. He stepped behind the podium and turned to address his dwindled flock.
“You here are the best among us.” His voice rose in intensity. “The best among us! You are not cowed, nor fearful of a group of slatterns and layabouts. You realize the justness of our cause, and are prepared to do whatever it takes,” here his voice dropped to almost a whisper, “whatever it takes to save the souls of this city.” He inhaled deeply, and tried to put on his warmest, most fatherly expression. “I would like to thank you, thank you for doing God’s work today. Now, we are going to drive to the next location. I suggest you carpool, parking is limited. Malcolm, if you would be so kind?” Malcolm stood up from his front row seat and started distributing maps to the tunnel’s location. He was intensely proud of his maps. The image was fuzzy to be virtually indecipherable, and the written directions were obscusified enough to be of little to no help whatsoever. It wouldn’t shake off everybody, but it would certainly help. Groups filtered out into the parking lot and collected in threes and fours, scrutinizing their maps, and driving of into the night. Malcolm made sure he and Cider left last, to ensure that no one could follow them.
“Drive past the park,” said Cider as they got into Malcolm’s car.
“Sorry, Mr. Cider?”
“I want to see what they are doing. Drive past the park. Everyone else will wait for us.
“Sure thing,” Malcolm said. He took the long way around the city, and drove as slowly as he could past the front of the park. Cider smiled as he saw huge spotlight strung up, and a large crowd of people gathered near the gates.
“Well, at least one thing is working. Those idiots are all waiting for us at the front. They will be pretty shocked to find that we have a back door.”
“Yes, Mr. Cider, I’m sure they will.”
They drove on in awkward silence, Malcolm afraid he would say something to tip off Cider, Cider smug with satisfaction that at least one part of his plan was successful. They eventually pulled into the strip mall that was their eventual meeting place. Sad, weathered looking storefronts attempted to beckon customers with flickering, faded neon. Peeling paint drifted in the breeze. Cider and Malcolm waited in the car.
“Where the hell is everybody?” Cider shouted. He got out of the car and walked towards the roadway, scanning up and down the barren street. A few cars drifted into sight. Detectives Bailey an XXXXXXX led the way. They knew the mall in question, the pizza restaurant had been used as a front for a meth lab. A few more cars pulled in, but Cider was left with the realization that he had only fifteen men by his side. They waited as long as possible, but now one else arrived. Cider absently patted his chest, just above his heart, feeling the weight of his equalizer.
“With the element of surprise,” he shouted to his miniscule flock, “and God on our side, I have no doubt that we will be victorious! Let us face our enemy.” Flashlights flicked on as they stepped into the darkened forest. Malcolm took point, and pushed through the underbrush. The moon broke from behind clouds as they reached the tunnel, bathing the stone with an eerie silver sheen. The Promised Ones were hushed in the face of obvious history.
“Behold, gentlemen, the portal through to the back of the park. Through this tunnel lies the Promised Land. It’s ours for the taking.
In the shadows, protected by a thick coverage of trees, Animal watched as the last of the Promised Ones stepped carefully into the cave. He opened his laptop, and centered his mouse on the play button of iTunes, and started patiently counting to 120.
The Promised Ones tried to be silent as they crept through the tunnel, but it was extremely difficult keeping their worried gasps contained. The tunnel was, quite frankly, creepy as all hell at night. Malcolm wasn’t helping anything, continually stopping at every little noise, jumping nervously every ten paces. Malcolm was actually quite pleased with himself. His play-acting paranoia was spreading fear throughout the crowd. They were becoming jumpy and paranoid.
They were approaching the halfway point of the tunnel when a horrific, deafeningly loud shriek slammed into the unprepared eardrums of the Promised Ones. Animal had spent hour after hour installing the hundreds of speakers, carefully hiding them along the tunnel walls. The combined power of all the little speakers created an almost physical wall of sound, and bloodCurdlingDance.mp3 lived up to its name. The Promised Ones dropped their flashlights, felt their hearts leap into their throats, as the blood drained from their collective faces. Four of them, already feeling faint of heart, ran form the tunnel as fast as their legs could carry them. They found themselves back in the forest, tears streaming down their cheeks, gasping for air. One of them found, much to his embarrassment, that he had soiled himself. They slunk into the forest, vowing to never again partake in anything Phineas Cider was involved in.
In the tunnel, a gray-faced Cider was concerned that he was experiencing a heart attack. His chest was wracked with pain, and he was covered with sweat. Around him the remaining Promised Ones were forcing their fingers in their ears, trying to block out the horrible sound.
“Come along,” he shouted over the din. “We are almost through.” Crouching, crawling, bent over, fingers forced in ears awkwardly holding flashlights crookedly, the Promised Ones fought forward, praying for the sound to end, but it was on a loop, playing over and over again. Finally they reached the opening to the forest, and the sound mercifully stopped. With ears ringing the Promised Ones peeked out over the edge.
“It looks clear,” Malcolm stage whispered.
“They must be expecting us,” snarled Cider. “Why else would we have been subjected to that sonic assault?”
“Well, I don’t see anyone,” said Malcolm. Slowly they pulled themselves out of the tunnel, and gathered themselves together. Cider did a quick headcount, and sighed miserably at the dwindling numbers.
“Let’s look sharp,” Cider gasped, still feeling the ill effects of the attack in the tunnel. Malcolm took this opportunity to slide his Black Knight mask out of his back pocket and slid it on over his head. He still remembered going to Maple Leaf Gardens as a boy and buying the mask. It was one of the last happy memories he had of his father. It still fit, although it was a little bit snug. He smiled slightly as Cider barked his next instruction. “Eyes sharp, they must be expecting us.”
This was exactly the worst possible advice he could have given, for as they walked forward towards the park, they were blinded by two giant spotlights, shining directly in their eyes. The Promised Ones covered their eyes, tears collecting in the corners of their eyes. The lights shut of, and the Promised Ones foolishly relaxed. Strobe lights assaulted their eyes, flashing at epileptic fit inducing speeds. The shadows came alive with trailer park residents, pouring out from behind bushes, and tree trunks. The Promised Ones were surrounded, and found themselves bound at the wrist and thrown together in a heap. Chuck stepped forward as the strobe lights stopped. He bent down and pulled up a trussed Cider by the lapels.
“Walk,” he said, pushing him forward. Behind him he could hear the residents gathering up the flashlights and weapons. Will walked over to Malcolm, obviously recognizable in his mask and gave him a big bear hug.
“Good work, Malcolm,” he said. Promised Ones and trailer park residents alike were amazed to find out that Malcolm was acting as a Fifth Column. He smiled sheepishly and pulled off the mask, tousling his hair in the process.
“Thanks,” he said shyly. He pulled back slightly as a congratulatory crowd circled around him, anxious to thank him for his role.
A beam of light came bobbing along the tunnel, and Animal stepped out clutching his laptop in one hand and a flashlight in another. He surveyed the scene, and whistled as he scrambled out.
“Well, I guess that worked,” he said.
Chuck pulled Cider along the path towards the office. He looped around to the front gate. A few people milled about, drifting in and out of several scarecrows and manikins.
“We had a feeling you would check up on us,” said Chuck mildly. “We thought it might be a good idea to make you think we were where you wanted us to be. Nothing is more effective than simple misdirection.” Cider was silent, disgusted with himself for falling for such a simple trick. Chuck walked him back towards the office. They entered.
Chuck sat Cider down in a wooden chair, and pulled up another to face him.
“Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?” Cider mutely shook his head, kept his gaze on the floor. “I don’t think that the Geneva Convention applied here, you understand. I’m just trying to be friendly. Turning the other cheek, as it were. I understand that is important to Christians. The Promised Ones are Christians, correct. Sneaking into a family park, home to children, widows, and working folks. Old and young living here happily, and you thugs come in with your baseball bats and your tire irons to attack us.” Cider looked up at Chuck who could see for the first time the pitiable old man that Cider really was. He was no
threat, not anymore. Chuck walked into the back room and poured Cider a cup of water.
“Here, drink this,” he said, holding the cup up to his lips for him. Cider took a few week sips. “You look like shit, Cider.” Out the window Chuck could see the Promised Ones being led to the parking lot. The knelt down, and sat on the pavement, looking totally humiliated. “It’s over,” said Chuck. “Do you understand that? It’s over. The Promised Ones were defeated, not with violence, but by sound and light. Let’s go, I want to hear you tell the remainder of your men.” Chuck pulled Cider up, and cut off his handcuffs.
“I wonder if you would have been as merciful to me?” asked Chuck. Cider meekly shuffled out in front of him. The walked to the parking lot, where everyone was waiting. Chuck smiled at his friends, Will, Robert, Animal, Melinda and Melody, Prescott, the rest of the trailer park residents. Emma came over, holding Jordan by the hand, and embraced Chuck with her free arm.
“Glad you’re all right, soldier-boy,” she whispered in his ear.
“Me, too.” He took a step back and addressed the Promised Ones.
“Good evening everyone. Oh, I see Detective Bailey, you decided to throw away your career. Robert?”
“Yes Chuck?” said Robert, stepping forward.
“If you would be so kind as to place that anonymous call for me.”
“Of course, Chuck,” said Robert, hurrying into the office. Bailey and his partner struggled to get up. Chuck and Will pushed them back to the ground.
“I gave you a chance!” shouted Chuck savagely. The other Promised Ones jerked back in alarm at Chuck’s angry outburst. “Your job is to protect and serve the public trust, not screw innocent people. You had a choice, that much I gave you. You chose the wrong path, not me.” Bailey and his partner lay on the ground, sobbing. Prison would not be kind to them.
“Now the rest of you,” Chuck started to say, but was interrupted by the arrival of five stately limousines. “well, son of a bitch,” said Will. “They made it.” The limos, driving as smoothly as ever, encircled the gathering, forming a perfect pentagon. The Japanese actuaries poured out of the cars, and formed a circle facing the crowd. Will leaned over to Chuck. “They look meaner, somehow, don’t they?” Chuck nodded.
“I’m hoping it’s just the light.” The three groups stood facing one another for a minute, until finally Mr. Takeuchi stepped out of the limo closest to Chuck.
“Chuck, I am very sorry we are so late. We were unexpectedly delayed in Toronto, trying to arrange matters.”
“Well, it’s good to see you now. We were just wrapping things up. Cider was just going to make an announcement, as I recall. Isn’t that right, Mr. Cider?” Cider nodded his head stiffly.
“If I could just take one moment of your time, Chuck, you might be interested in this.” Takeuchi motioned Chuck towards the limo. Chuck shrugged.
“Excuse us for a minute, everybody. We’ll be right back.” Chuck followed Takeuchi into the limo, where he was sitting holding a thick sheaf of papers.
“I owe you an explanation. My bosses are, or were, on the wrong side of the law in Japan.”
“Like, Triads?” asked Chuck.
“Something like that, yes. However, they are in the process of leaving that life behind them, they are no longer satisfied with a life of crime. They are seeking investment opportunities. I told them about the park.”
“They want to buy the park?”
“Yes, they wish to purchase the park from you. However, it stipulates that it will not be redeveloped in anyway. There will be five trailers held open at all times, allowing for visitors from Japan. You will be kept on in the same role, if you desire.”
Chuck flipped through the pages. “Hold on a second,” he said. He leaned out the window. “Will, can you come over here a second?” he shouted into the crowd. Will ran over to the limo and got in. The crowd shifted expectantly. Chuck noticed that Animal was standing watch over Cider, who was looking more and more miserable with each passing moment.
“What’s going on?” Will asked. Chuck passed over the papers.
“How does this look?” Chuck asked.
“Do you want a lawyer’s opinion, or a wrestler’s?”
“Lawyer’s, please.” Will looked over the documents carefully, checking each clause. It took him a few minutes, bur at the end of his inspection he declared “It’s good. If you sign it, you will be very rich.” Chuck accepted a pen from Mr. Takeuchi and signed his name on the various lines. Takeuchi did the same. The shook hands, beaming at each other. “So, you will stay with us?” Takeuchi asked.
“There’s no place I would rather be.”
Outside, the crowd’s curiosity was growing exponentially. The gentle chatter had given way to outright discussion. Even the Promised Ones looked curious, although Bailey and his partner were trying to compose themselves.
“All right, everybody. I have an announcement,” Chuck shouted. “From here on in, this park is now the property of, uhh, let’s see,” he checked his copy of the file, “Nagano Investments. What that means for us is pretty much nothing. This park will stay here for the next hundred years.” A cheer rose through the crowd. Cider started moaning, a high pitched whine that increased in intensity before choking off. He reached into his jacket, hand moving as fast and true as a snake striking. He pulled out his gun, and pointed it at Chuck, screaming a tortured, spittle flecked scream. Chuck saw the gun in Cider’s hand, saw the barrel pointed at him. He could hear the sound of many men moving quickly. In the background, behind Cider he could see the actuaries moving, flowing. He could see a large dark shape run through the crowd and hurtle towards Cider. He could see sparks shoot out of the end of the gun, hear the thunder clap of the gun shot. Screams echoed around the parking lot. Two actuaries stepped forward and quickly subdued Cider, pulling the gun from his hand and wrestling him to the ground. Chuck blinked. He looked at the black clad form that had got between himself and the bullet. Malcolm was dropping to his knees, clutching his stomach, red dripping out. Will ran over and helped him gently to the ground.
“We need an ambulance here,” he screamed. Chuck looked around again. The actuaries had surrounded Cider, most of them were carrying machine guns. Chuck shook his head, unable to process anything anymore. He saw Robert running to the office, knew it would be okay. Will was holding a wadded up jacket to Malcolm’s stomach, and saying reassuring things to him. Cider was twitching in the dust. In the distance he could hear sirens screaming, approaching the park. Emma. He snapped out of it and ran over to her.
“Are you all right?” He asked. She nodded. “We’re fine. Fine. I’m going to take Jordan home. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” She walked off, knees shaking slightly, pulling Jordan along behind her.
He walked over to Will and Malcolm. “You saved my life, Malcolm,” he said, bending down to talk to him directly. “When you get better, just name what you want, it’s yours.” Malcolm’s breath was ragged, and his face was pale, but he nodded in understanding.
“Th-thanks,” he grunted.
“The ambulance will be here soon, just hold on.” Malcolm nodded again, dipping his head slightly.
Chuck put his arm on Will’s shoulder and squeezed. “Thanks, Will,” he said. Will looked over at Chuck. “No problem. You might want to mention to the actuaries that the police will probably respond to a 911 call. Those guns don’t look entirely street legal.”
“Shit, you’re right.” Malcolm ran over to Takeuchi, who started barking orders. The guns disappeared instantly, and the limo’s drove off to a darkened corner of the parking lot.
“So, tell me again why you were delayed in Toronto, Mr. Takeuchi?”
“We wanted to ensure we were prepared to assist.”
“I don’t want that kind of hardware in the park.”
“These are just on loan from some friends. The go back tomorrow.”
“Thanks. Now what the hell do I do with these guys?” he said, looking over at the Promised Ones.
“I guess you can let them go.” Takeuchi turned and walked with his men back to their trailers. A few residents drifted away as well, but many stayed, watching over the prisoners, a few standing over the still prone figure of Cider.
“You saw all the guns, right?” Chuck ask the Promised Ones. They nodded. They would probably never forget all the guns. “Are you going to fuck with us ever again?” he asked. A chorus of vehement no’s answered Chuck. He cut their wristbands off on by one with his keys, and allowed them to run back into the forest. The ambulance had arrived, the paramedics were working on Malcolm. Cider struggled to his feet, and walked slowly to the ambulance. Melinda and melody took hold of either arm, trying to help him. He pulled away sharply, spurning their offer. He reached the back door of the ambulance and promptly collapsed. The attendants, having just stabilized Malcolm jumped out and frantically examined him. They called over the police crew that had just arrived. One hopped back into the ambulance, while the other, assisted by the police, started CPR. The ambulance drove off, taking Malcolm down the road, Will riding along at Malcolm’s insistence. The driver was on the radio calling for another ambulance before they hit the road. Chuck walked
Chuck approached.
” How is he?” he asked.
“Not good,” responded the cop. “Do you mind telling me what the hell happened here? And is that Detective Bailey and his partner in handcuffs?”
Chuck looked over to where he had left the two police officers.
“Yeah, am I going to get in trouble for that?” The officer shook his head.
“No, it just saves some time. We have been ordered to pick them up on sight. You might get a medal from the mayor.”
“That would be an interesting turn of events.”
The next morning Chuck awoke surprisingly early. He went and pounded on Animal’s door.
“I want to get things back to normal,” was all he said. Animal pulled on his jacket and went with Chuck to the tunnel. Together they pulled down the speakers.
“I’m not sure how to thank-you,” Chuck said.
“Just don’t sue me when I make the movie of all this.”
“Done. Just get someone devilishly handsome to play me.”
“Chuck Norris?”
“Perfect. You always have a roof here.”
“Thanks, but right now I should get back to my own home. I really need to change. Be seeing you, Chuck.” Animal slung his knapsack over his shoulder and walked off.
Chuck decided to wait in the office. He didn’t want to wake Emma up. He up like it was just another day. Robert joined him.
“I thought I’d see you here,” he said.
“I wasn’t sure where else to go. Besides, we might have a customer.”
“Will called. Malcolm will be fine. He had surgery last night, no complications.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Cider is not so good. He had a massive heart attract. He isn’t expected to make a recovery.” Chuck nodded at this.
“So, you are rich now,” said Robert.
“Yes, I suppose I am.”
“Do you know what your plans are?”
“I’m going to stay right here. Nowhere else I’d rather be. Holy shit!” Chuck exclaimed. “We do have a customer.” In the parking lot an old Winnebago was coming to a stop. An older couple got out of it and started walking towards the office. Chuck held the door open for them.
“Hi there,” the man said. “We were hoping you would have a slot we could park the Winnie for a couple of days.”
“Sure do. It’s sort of late to be RVing, isn’t it?”
“Well we’re just on the way home from visiting our new grandson,” said the woman.
“That’s great, congratulations,” said Chuck. “Welcome to Pine ridges trailer park. You can call me Charlie.”
The End
