Nickel Plated Page 12

“Is he in jail?”

  “Yes.”

  “He must be so angry!”

  I thought about that as I cut. I imagined that would be the case. I got the strap from her waist free. Just one left, the one that bound her neck to a board affixed to the chair.

  She said, “I’m so thirsty.”

  “I bet. I’ll have you loose soon.”

  I looked around the room and saw a business card taped to one of the cement walls behind her. I stood and said, “Hold on.”

  The card was held onto the wall with masking tape. All it had on it was a phone number. I stuck it in my pocket and got back to work cutting.

  The knife was fighting the coarse fabric of the strap; my teeth were clenched with the effort of cutting and not pulling on it so far as to choke her. She’d been through enough—she didn’t need me strangling her. I felt something vibrate on my leg. I took the burner out and answered it.

  “Nickel?”

  “What?”

  “They’re gone!”

  “What?”

  “They’re gone, five, maybe six minutes ago! I’ve been calling, but I couldn’t get a signal in the woods!”

  I hung up, dropped the phone, and began sawing furiously at the last strap. The knife was only biting on every other slice; I was hacking furiously, trying to ignore the choked sounds coming from Shelby. Finally, she was free. I threw the backpack on, pushed the knife in my pocket with the blade still open, and grabbed the phone in one hand and Shelby’s wrist in the other. I pulled, almost dragged her up the stairs. My ears begged not to hear the front door open.

  I ran and she limped past the dog and scattered groceries and out the back door. I dropped the backpack, tore off my sweatshirt, and handed it to her; it went down just onto her thighs. I helped her over the fence and climbed over it myself. Heard a diesel motor, a truck, somewhere in the distance. Grabbed her wrist, and we ran, probably the motliest-looking pair ever. I had my burner to my ear, calling Lou.

  “Pick up, pick up.”

  “This is Lou.”

  “I need you. Now.”

  “Where.”

  “I’m on Duiker right now. We’re going to be heading west on my bicycle, two of us, one bike. At least two bad guys.”

  “Riverside?”

  “Sure.”

  We made my bike. I tossed the phone in my pocket and ripped the bike free from the chain and left it behind. I could get new iron. I mounted the bike and helped Shelby on in front of me so she could use the seat. I put my arms around her and started pedaling. Behind us, I could hear a truck. A big one.

  Chapter 36

  We had maybe a mile head start on them. Without Shelby I could have turned off and gotten away, but I wasn’t going to leave her. We’d die together if we had to. We cut down cross-streets and that motor would dull, and then it would be right behind us again, not there, but close. Closer all the time. Riverside was almost a mile out. I pushed, found a rhythm, made the bike heave against the wind, feeling iron and diesel smoke at my back. Not caring. Caring about the little girl passing out on the seat in front of me. Feeling her heartbeat against my chest and telling myself over and over again that if we were going to die, they were coming with us. Telling myself to remember my training, telling myself to fight.

  I turned my head back when we were less than two blocks from the park. They were following us slowly, right on my tail. I slowed and then stood on the pedals, riding on the sidewalk, hoping for a crowd in the park. They were right next to us, the one in the passenger seat rolling the window down, waving a steel revolver. I kept my right hand on the bicycle handle, prayed Shelby wouldn’t fall to the left, and pulled my starting pistol with my free arm. The truck broke hard to the left, and I fired three blanks at it. They backed off, and I put the gun hand on the left pedal. The bike bounced over a short hill in the sidewalk and hit lawn. We were there. All we had to do was cross the park; Lou and his cab would be waiting. May as well have been across the Atlantic.

  I dropped the bicycle and helped shake Shelby free of the frame. The truck was idling at the edge of the park, and they were getting out just as we’d gotten free of the bike. They were coming for us, and there was no one here to stop them. I felt Shelby tugging at my arm, dragging me back. I pulled her around a thick maple, and we headed towards the playground, to my old meeting spot. All of this crap, all of the secrets, the being careful, everything gone wrong because of crap reception on a stupid burner. We were almost to the playground when I dropped the bag and pulled out the can of butane. I opened it, scratched a match across my belt buckle, lit the top of the can with the match, and threw it in their direction. The explosion was green and slowed them. The one with the revolver raised it, and I dragged Shelby to the ground with me, bullets tugging the air over us.

  I stood, still holding onto Shelby. We were almost to the playground, halfway to the parking lot. We ran, bullets in the air around us—too far for a pistol unless they got lucky. I zipped past the monkey bars and the jungle gyms, rounded the pond. Eyepatch was standing. I stopped. Shelby tugged at my arm, screaming. Eyepatch walked past us toward them, pulling an enormous pistol from his coat, kept moving and started throwing lead. He held up his free hand, firing with the other one. One of the men went down. Eyepatch shook his hand at us, almost like he was waving with the extended arm. The pistol bucked. Someone was screaming in the park besides Shelby. We ran.

  Chapter 37

  Lou was sitting in his cab, waiting. He raised his eyebrows when he saw us. Big reaction. I pulled the backpack off and helped Shelby in. I felt lightheaded, looked at my arm—bleeding, a hole in my shirt. Crimson soaking my side and Lou’s unfortunate seat. I leaned against Shelby, trying to get my strength back.

  “Where to?”

  “Take me to Rhino’s. She needs to go to the hospital after you drop me off. Shelby, you need to forget that you saw me today. Can you do that?”

  She was falling asleep. I shook her twice. She looked at me, not all there. I smacked her across the face. She focused in, held her cheek.

  “Shelby. You didn’t see me today, okay? Arrow knows how to get hold of me. You were being held at 92 Duiker Road by two men named Hank and Fred, and you escaped on your own. Make up whatever you want to say, but stick to what you say the first time.”

  She looked at Lou. “What about him?”

  “Lou knows how to keep his mouth shut.”

  We were getting close to Rhino’s. I could feel the world fading on me. I shook my head. Shook it again, tried to bounce back. I opened the backpack and pulled out my wallet. It was stuffed with hundreds. I tossed them through the little window dividing the cab.

  “Is that enough?”

  Lou looked down, then looked back at me. He used whatever internal calculator he was born with that processed a fair price for the transport of two youths. Both of whom the police would desperately want to talk to, and one of whom was ruining the back seat of his cab. He nodded.

  “If it’s not, you know where to find me.”

  He grunted. The guy was really talkative today. He pulled into the lot in front of Rhino’s gym, and I grabbed the bag and got out. I stood by the open door, wavering for a second. I locked eyes with Shelby.

  “Remember what I said.”

  She nodded and gave me a little smile. Girl was as beautiful as her older sister. I walked from the car, made it through the entryway into the gym, and the world went black.

  Chapter 38

  I woke in Rhino’s office. I recognized the posters and awards that littered the walls. A man I didn’t know sat next to me, and it all started coming back. The man talked with a thick East Coast accent; I could practically smell the Jersey sewage. “He’s awake.”

  Rhino’s face appeared above my own. “Hey, he’s awake! What trouble you in now?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Young and smart. Rare.”

  Rhino nodded at the doctor, and the man spoke. He was a wispy little thing, and his hat was cov
ered in little ribbons, badges, and pins. “Your stitches need to come out in a week. You know how to take them out?”

  I nodded. I could’ve put them in if I’d been awake.

  “You got lucky, kid, really lucky.”

  He had no idea.

  “Guy shot you with a full metal jacket, bang, but it’s a bullet that don’t expand. He gets you with a hollow point, you lose the arm right where he shot you. Fall over, bleed out. Dead. The full metal, he needs an organ or piece in your skull to put you down for good.” He shook his head, disgusted. “This crap with the guns, it’s no good—you kids should know better. Used to be you had a problem, you just settled it with your fists. Now it’s all guns and gangs. If Rhino hadn’t made me fix you, I would’ve sent your butt to the hospital, let you talk to the cops. Do ya some good.”

  Rhino had his hands on his knees, laughing as hard as he was able. He said, “No, Stitch, this boy, he okay, he is my friend. This is Nickel—you no heard of Nickel?”

  Stitch withdrew and dropped back like he was choking. “He’s young.”

  “He’s a good boy, good friend. You need problem solved, this is the man for the job.”

  I said, “It’ll be on the house.”

  Rhino clapped his enormous hands together. “You feeling better already!”

  Stitch was packing things back into a ring bag.

  “How long have I been here?”

  “Two days. You woke up once, yelled for a girl. Shelby or Sadie I think. I make Stitch give you morphine. Powerful!”

  I watched Stitch leave the room. As he closed the door, I said, “Thank you.”

  “I’m gonna call in that marker kid, don’t forget.”

  “I won’t.”

  The door closed behind him. It was just Rhino and me. He threw me a shirt. I caught it with my good arm, gave the stitches and their surrounding bruise a look, and pulled it over my head. My wounded arm burned as I yanked the shirt over the injury. I felt woozy and had to concentrate to clear my head.

  Rhino said, “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Just banged up.”

  He lifted my backpack from behind his desk and set it on the cot next to me. “You come in, you were a mess.”

  I nodded.

  “You are a very lucky boy.”

  “I know.”

  He took something off of his desk, folded it, and handed it over. It was a newspaper. “I give you a few minutes, get your head right.”

  Rhino sat behind his desk and picked up a book. I looked at the headline. “TWO KILLED IN KIDNAPPING ESCAPE!” I went to the meat. My hands shook a little as I folded the paper and read.

  Suspected kidnappers Henry “Hank” Phillips and Freddy Jefferson were both shot dead at the scene of a Tuesday afternoon gunfight in Riverside Park. The man who shot them was detained by authorities and released.

  A police source confirmed that both Phillips and Johnson were discharging handguns and chasing a young girl they’d kidnapped and were holding captive at their house when the third gunman opened fire and killed both of them.

  It has not been confirmed whether the third shooter was legally armed or not, but Police Sergeant Bill Van Endel said, “We are happy that the young lady has been returned to her parents and that someone was able to come to her aid in a time of great need.”

  The girl is believed to be Shelby Cross, missing since last week. Her father, Adam Cross, has been released from police custody in light of the recent events.

  It went on, had some quotes from an NRA spokesperson about how citizens needed to be their own last line of defense. I hadn’t seen anything insinuating that an attractive young hero had been present, or an ugly red-headed boy for that matter, so Shelby had done well, and Eyepatch and Lou knew enough to keep quiet too. It’s possible they were looking for someone fitting my description, but the only risk there would be them discovering that I kept to myself and probably ought to go back to foster care. I read the article again. If they were looking for me, it was on the low. I stood and set the paper on Rhino’s desk.

  “Would you mind having someone call me a cab?”

  Rhino smiled and said, “You don’t need a cab. Your friend Jeff, he can give you a ride.”

  Rhino peeled ten hundred-dollar bills out of his desk and laid them in front of me. I looked at the money, considered it, and swept into a fold that I tucked in my pocket.

  “Your finder’s fee. He a fighter. A real fighter.”

  Rhino stood and walked to the door. He opened it and extended an arm. I followed him out.

  Jeff was working a heavy bag that had been taken off of its chain and laid on its side on some wrestling mats. He was kneeling on one side of it, and then with lightning speed he would throw a punch at the top of the bag, toss a leg over it, fire punches from the mounted position, and then pop to the other side to repeat it. We watched him work through the routine, and when Jeff started to slow, Rhino clapped his hands to let him know we were watching.

  Jeff stood and walked towards us, bowing deeply before Rhino. Rhino bowed back, not quite as deep, and said, “You remember your friend Nickel?”

  “Of course I do. How are you, Nickel?”

  Rhino cut me off. “He’s good, but needs a favor. Can you give him a ride?”

  Jeff grabbed a towel off of a rack and dried his face. “Sure. Right now?”

  Rhino nodded.

  Jeff slipped into a pair of flip-flops and said, “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 39

  We left in the car I’d seen Jeff pull into the field at Knapps. I sat quietly while Jeff drove. When we were almost to my house, I pointed to a gas station and said, “Just let me off there.”

  “I don’t mind driving you home…”

  “No, this is good. Thank you.”

  Jeff flicked the button to unlock the doors and said, “I wanted to thank you. The last few days have been the best of my whole life.”

  I thought about running through the field with Shelby, bullets in the air around us. Thought about fires and Nick and Eleanor. I pushed the ugliness out of my head. I tried to think just about Jeff, about where his life had been and where it was going now.

  “You’re welcome. Rhino thinks you’ll be a fighter.”

  Jeff nodded, gravely.

  “When you get a fight, have Rhino find me. I want to see what you can do with some training. You were good when you were rough, but Rhino will make you a force. He builds weapons.”

  “If you ever need anything—anything—you let me know, and I will come, no questions asked.”

  “I will.”

  He extended his hand, and I gave him mine. I could feel his pulse through his palm as he shook my much smaller hand.

  “I’m serious. I don’t know anything about you; Rhino wouldn’t tell me a thing. But I can look at you and know that something scared you bad recently. If I can help…”

  “Then I’ll let you know. You read the paper?”

  “Sometimes. Why?”

  “Ask Rhino for the copy in his office. Read between the lines. Make sure you want to get involved with me. I know I’m just a kid, but that’s a big offer, and I want you to know what you’re getting involved with if we work together. Thanks for the ride.”

  I got out and waited until he drove off. I walked home. It was hard, but not as awful as I’d expected it to be. For the first time since I’d moved in, I wanted to see a neighbor, just some reminder of humanity. Opened the garage door. Missed my bike. Went inside and slept like a rock.

  Chapter 40

  When I woke, it was night. I was cold. No covers. If there’d been dreams, they were gone. I got up. Gave up, went back, and lay in the blackness. I’ve never felt so alone. After enough time, I slept.

  When I woke again, it was light. I checked my pager. Nothing. I went to the computer, looked at my bank account—not too shabby right now, just under seventy thou. I went bike shopping, found my old model, a Gary Fisher Roscoe 3, ordered that and some Dura-Coat to paint it. Matte black, just
like the last time. If there’s a better bike, I want to know about it; right now that’s as good as it gets. There are people who will tell you that mountain bikes are no good for street, and they’re kind of right. The thing is, though, no road bike is any good at the rough stuff. I need one that can do both. I left the computer and grabbed a book off the shelf, Blue Belle by Vachss. Went outside, watered the garden. Read for a while.

  I’d promised myself that if I lived through getting Shelby, I’d clean the house and go shopping, get some real food. Now those were the last things in the world that I cared about. I shut the water off and tried to pretend I was reading. All I could think about was Arrow and Shelby—and how I was never going to see them again.

  It was the worst part about my work, when I’d really connected with a case and just put everything into it. I tried to ball up that thinking, just get it gone. Tried to roll a scheme to move that money, but I was drawing blanks. Put all that crap aside. My pot needed some work done, I had stuff to live for, and I had stuff that needed doing. It wasn’t my fault that none of it mattered. I went to the garden and got to it. When I was done, I had a tote full of trimmings to hang. This sucks on a normal day, and my hurt arm made it even worse. I took the cut plants to the basement and flittered around there for a bit. When hunger came, she bit hard. I went upstairs and ordered some sandwiches from a pizza joint. I cleaned the table, put my get-out-of-town box away, and put the tools and camera equipment and all the other stuff away too. Went back to the basement, started laundry. The light hooked to the doorbell flashed while I was down there.

  I paid the kid with a twenty and told him to keep the rest, just like a spoiled little brat home alone would. He never even thought about me. I was voracious with the food; I’d ordered a meatball sub and a club, and I hate half of each. I put what was left in the fridge and sat on the couch. Checked my pager. Nothing. Ran to the washer. Remembered something that was hopefully still legible. The card.