Chapter 6

“How much sleep did you get?”

“I got none Jeff, not a second,” Henry stormed past his brother-in-law into his house.

“Lisa made you some sandwiches,” Jeff shouted in after him.  “She wanted to do a tuna fish, but I told her they stink up the other ones.”  He paused looking at the brown paper bag in his hand.  He knew Henry was worried to the point of being slightly irrational.  He was definitely irritable.  Jeff wasn’t sure what he should say to calm his friend. 

Henry reemerged from the garage service door with a small carry-on-sized suitcase.  “I’m sorry to give you Max again, but I should be back in a couple days.”

“What if you don’t come back?”

Henry placed the case in rear of Karen’s black minivan. “Then congratulations, you own a dog.”  He slammed the rear door shut.

“No, seriously Henry.  What if you guys don’t come back.”

“Why wouldn’t we come back Jeff?” Henry snapped back.  “Why on earth wouldn’t we come back?”

Jeff propped the bag of sandwiches on the passenger side windshield wiper and walked to the rear of the van.  “Suppose this is something big.  Suppose the police don’t come back.  Would you rather live down here in urban hell or up there in north woods paradise?  I know what I’d choose.”

“What do you mean something big?  Come on Jeff, get real.”  Henry shook his head and started back into the house.

“Well maybe we should go with you,” he said with earnest concern.  “That’s all I’m saying.”  Jeff shouted back into the house to his brother-in-law.

“Good morning Jeff!” chirped the platinum blonde next-door neighbor from her driveway.  Jolene Platz had lived in the neighborhood with her orthopedic surgeon husband Dan, before Karen and Henry bought their place.  Dan and Jolene divorced a year after Henry moved in.  From the gossip Karen heard, Jolene discovered Dan was having an affair with one of the receptionists at his clinic.  It couldn’t have come as a surprise to Jolene; that was how she wrested Dan from the arms of his first wife Wendy.  Apparently Jolene could not abide being bested by a younger, prettier woman.  Much to Dan’s chagrin, Jolene hired Wendy’s divorce attorney and secured a nice settlement for her efforts, including the large house on the golf course.

Dan’s relationship with the receptionist didn’t turn into marriage like it had with Jolene.  In fact, Dan was a frequent visitor to his old home.  Jolene was fine with their current arrangement.  The maintenance payments were a redundancy given Dan still bought anything Jolene desired.  She reaped all of the benefits of being a doctor’s wife while retaining the privilege of playing the field.

“Good morning Jolene,” Jeff turned to see her prancing across the front lawn toward him. She was dressed in a light silk robe loosely tied in the front to reveal a leopard print nightgown cut a little too high for a public street.

Lisa was terminally annoyed by Jolene’s obvious advances on her husband.  Of all the husbands in the neighborhood, she seemed to set her sights on the ex-military man.  Jeff liked to play into the flirtation as much as possible in front of his wife.  He thought it kept her on her toes.  When Lisa wasn’t around, however, he became visibly uncomfortable in Jolene’s presence, worried she’d mistake his comical flirtation as true reciprocation.

“Did you have an exciting night last night?” She asked, still charging toward Jeff.

“It was a little concerning, yeah.  How about you, did you have an exciting night?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe.”  Jeff regretted taking her bait.  She sidled up next to him at the rear of the van and began her tale of “The Night Crystal Lost Power”, along with everyone else.  “Well, I was so scared about those riots.  And then the lights went off.  And Dan was at the hospital so he wasn’t home.”  She continued to ramble.  “I tried to call him, and my cell wouldn’t work.  And then our house phone wouldn’t work.  And then…” she exaggerated the word “then” and let it hang for effect.  She patted her right hand on Jeff’s chest.  Yep, still very muscular she thought to herself.  “and then……” she paused once more, “then the lights when out.”

“Well I think that was all pretty much at the same time Jolene.”  Jeff said awkwardly.  “I think the power went out when the lights went out.  I think it all went out at the same time.”

“And I was so scared.” She ignored his correction and continued telling her story as if it was unique to her.  “Oh Jeff, I get goose bumps just thinking about it.  Just look,” she placed all her weight on Jeff’s chest and separated the front of her robe lifting her exposed right thigh for Jeff to inspect.  His eyes went wide as he stammered for something to say.

“Good morning Jolene.” Henry said as he walked through the door into the open garage.  He shot Jeff a caustic look as he walked past the pair.

“Oh good morning Henry,” she smiled and batted her eyelashes.  “I was just showing Jeff my thigh.”

“I’m helping Henry pack,” Jeff blurted out, jumping back from Jolene.  The quickness of the move caused her to lose her balance and fall forward indignantly onto Karen’s minivan.

“Jesus Jeff,” she shouted as she regained her balance.  “That’s no way to treat a lady.”

“No way at all,” Henry interjected, rolling his eyes at Jeff.

“Karen made you sandwiches.”  Jeff attempted to change the subject. 

“Yeah, you told me that already.  No Tuna.  I heard you.”

“Where are you going Henry?”  Jolene regained her composure.

“Wisconsin.  Karen and the girls are up with her parents and they can’t get a flight out.”

“Dan called this morning.  He was heading home from the hospital,” she still referred to it as his home.  “He says 400 is completely backed up.  There are military checkpoints at almost every exit.  I think they’re trying to make sure they keep the riots downtown.”

“You got a call through to him?”  Henry asked in dismay.

“Well yeah, once the power went back on, I….”

Henry ignored the rest of what she was saying and ran back into the house. 

“What’s his deal?” Jolene asked Jeff.

He was still trying to recover from the thigh incident.  “Don’t know.  Anyway Jolene, what happened next?”

Henry came back out with the phone to his ear.  After a second, he grimaced, “Same message Jeff.  Same message.  Why doesn’t my phone work?”

“Maybe it’s not your phone.”  Jeff thought out loud.  “Jolene, go get your phone.  Henry call Jolene’s house.”

Jolene shrugged and walked back to her house.  As she reached her front door she shouted back to the pair, “It’s ringing.”

“Go answer it Jolene,” Jeff ordered.

“It didn’t ring at all when I called Karen.  Just that message.”  Henry stood silent, looking to the sky as he waited for Jolene.  His eyes lit up when she answered.  “Thanks.”  He hung up the phone and called his wife again.

Jolene walked through the front door with her cordless phone in her hand.  “What’s going on?”

“He can’t get through to his wife’s phone but yours works.”

“Same message dammit.”  He cursed.

“Maybe it’s cells.”  Jeff again thought allowed.  “Jolene, can you get your cell?”

“I’m on a cell Jeff.  That’s not it.”  Henry concluded.

“Maybe it’s cell to cell?”  Jeff tried again.  “Please go get it Jolene.”

The two waited in the driveway.  “You’re lucky Lisa wasn’t over here.”

“You’re telling me.”  Jeff conceded.  “Did you see that?” 

“How could I miss it.  A little obvious.”

“Yeah, Lisa better watch out.”  Jeff said proudly.

“You better watch out.”  Henry admonished. 

“Got it!”  Crystal declared, her robe completely open and waving in the breeze for all the neighbors to see.  Henry looked at Jeff and shook his head.

“What’s your number Jolene?”  Jeff asked.

“770-742-8900”

Henry punched in the numbers and Jolene’s phone immediately rang.  “What the hell is going on?  How can they just block me and my wife.”

“Call her parents,” Jolene joined in on the detective work.

Henry nodded and gave it a try.  “Same message.”

“Maybe it’s long distance,” Jeff opined.

“I’ve got to get going.”  Henry said, resigning himself to the situation.

“Don’t go back through town!”  Jolene restated her warning.

“Sandwiches,” Jeff reminded for the third time.

The midmorning sun crept through the closed drapes, drawing a line across the light-carpeted floor.  The room contained one leather recliner and a small wooden table upon which sat a large flat-screen television.  The open floor plan led through to the sparse kitchen.  A few empty bottles of beer were lined up neatly on the counter next to the side of the refrigerator.  An empty circle of cardboard sat on the extended cutting board, the only remaining evidence of a frozen pizza consumed the night before.

In the back room, a suitcase laid open on the floor next to a wooden chair.  Some clothes were neatly folded in the case; others hung over the back of the chair.  A dark blue wool blanket was affixed over the large window, held into place by a row of thumb tacks pushed into the new drywall.  The black digital clock displaying 9:58 sat on the carpeted floor, its face turned toward the wall.

Joey Ericson lay snoring on the mattress on the floor.  He was wrapped tightly in blankets to fight the chill of the air conditioning system which he had set to 66 degrees.  In his mind, it was easier to fight the cold than beat the heat.  For the first time since his arrival he had enjoyed an uninterrupted night’s sleep. 

When he agreed to help with the Atlanta project he was promised a nice accommodation.  He even helped the district supervisor pick the condominium.  They settled on a gated community of single-story units, nicely landscaped private back yards, each with a built-in grill and hot tub.  In almost all respects it was much nicer than Ericson’s ranch home back in Ann Arbor, Michigan.  Unfortunately, he did not realize his temporary paradise was only a couple miles west of Hartsfield-Jackson Airport.  During his first two weeks the locals assured him he would eventual get used to the jets roaring overhead.  He never did.  Not only was the air workers strike an essential part of the project, it was a Godsend to Ericson, allowing him to catch up on some much needed sleep.

 The line of sunlight crept slowly across the bed toward his exposed face.  He winced as it came in contact with his closed right eye.  He rolled over to his back and stretched, emitting a long and low groan. 

Even though he’d been in Atlanta for a little over a month, he still had to familiarize himself with his surroundings each time he awoke.  Once he regained his bearings, he pawed the floor next to him searching out the digital clock. “Shit!” he exclaimed, jumping from the covers and darting for the bathroom in one fluid movement.

He planned on picking up Renovitch from the district office at 11:00 and be at McRoss by noon.  He only had a half hour to shower, eat and get to the office.  It would be tight.  As he jumped into the cold shower he hoped Renovitch had completed all the necessary paperwork.

Henry decided to take Jolene’s advice and stay off 400.  He worked his way up to Highway 20, then began travelling westward to the interstate.

It all seemed to work well for him until he got within a few miles of Canton.  Westward traffic began to slow while east bound traffic seemed to be moving fine.  At first there were as few slow-downs, then some brief stop-and-starts.  Eventually the traffic just ceased moving.  Every few minutes the line would creep ahead a few car lengths then stop.

Henry nervously tapped his dashboard along with the music on the radio.  Still, the vehicles coming in the other direction were not held up.  They moved quickly to the east.  As they passed, he began to take note that some of those vehicles had a large red dot painted on the windshield in the upper corner of the passenger side.  Under each dot was a large black number.  He noted Most vehicles had a 28 or 58.  He also saw an occasional 80 pass by. 

After slow moving down Highway 20 for about a half hour he noticed some folks in front of him began to exit their vehicles and congregate into small groups.  When the line lurched forward they would jump back in their cars, move ahead 20 feet, then regroup.  After this occurred a few more times Henry decided he was not getting anywhere fast, he might as well join them.

After Henry stepped out of Karen’s minivan he heard a woman call from the pick-up truck behind him, “What’s going on?  What’s the hold up?”  Henry shrugged in response and jogged to the group of people gathered beside the car in front of him.

As Henry got within ear shot a man wearing a dark suit and bright tie made eye contact with him, “We have no idea.” The man shouted at Henry.  “We’re trying to figure it out.”  The rest of the group turned to greet him as he slowed to a brisk cantor.  Henry noted there was always a certain sense of camaraderie in mutual inconvenience.

“Any word from the front of the line?”  Henry asked.

“Nothing,” a nice looking middle aged lady responded.  “We were debating stopping the cars in the other direction, but they all seem to be moving pretty quickly.

What’s with the numbers?” Henry asked.

“We don’t know anything.” The business man yelled over Henry’s shoulder to the pick-up truck lady jogging toward the group.

“Moving again!” said an elderly black lady.  She stepped into the vehicle right next to the group.  The rest scatter up the line to return to their rides.  Henry and the pick-up truck lady returned to their vehicles.  The line pulled forward, moving Henry just about to the spot he had previously stood.  He placed his car in park, then jogged back up to the old ladies car.

Renovitch stared at the small stack of ballots on his desk.  Under the ballots was a thin manila folder.  He placed his hand on the ballots and tapped his index finger slowly, but steadily.  He continued tapping, watching the second hand on the white office clock tick slowly by. 11:09. Nearly ten minutes late. He thought to himself.

At 11:14 he finally heard the loud mouthed Ericson enter through the reception area.  “Hey Kim, missed you last night, thought you said you were coming out?”  he boomed.  Since Kim spoke at the volume of a normal human, Renovitch could not hear her response to the obvious come on.  “I feel like shit this morning.” Ericson bellowed to no one in particular. 

“Hey Tony,” he exclaimed and he jumped through the door.  “You ready for this?”

“I was ready fourteen minutes ago, yes.” Renovitch retorted dryly.

“Well then, let’s get our shit together and get out of here.” Ericson dodged the barb.

Renovitch didn’t’ move.  “Sit down Joe.”

“Joey.” Ericson corrected.

“What?” Renovitch spat back.

“Joey.  My name is Joey.  You called me Joe.”  Ericson took a seat across from Renovitch.

“Whatever.”  He shook his head in mild frustration and continued.  “I don’t think this is a good idea.  This guy hasn’t been a problem up until now.  We’re just pushing when we don’t need to.”

“Look, Carl was my guy.” Ericson leaned forward across Renovitch’s desk.  “Carl came down from Michigan with me.”  He jabbed his finger into the desk with each syllable.  “And now he’s laid up in a hospital bed because of these rats.”

“We don’t pick fights with people because your idiot friend decided to jump on the back of a pick-up truck.  It’s not our problem.”

Ericson stood and placed his hands flat on Renovitch’s desk, leaning forward menacingly.  “I was brought down here for a reason.  I organize people.  I’m good at it.  And you all need me.  Now,” he paused for affect, leaning in a little closer to Renovitch, “when someone hurts one of my people, I hurt back.” 

“How very tough of you.”  Renovitch said, completely nonplused.  “Let me clarify something for you.”  Apparently someone above me likes you, which I find very difficult to believe.  Nontheless, I have been asked to follow through on the McRoss acquisition.  The understanding is that once complete you will get back to work on the South Fulton campaign.”

Ericson sat back in the chair across from the desk and folded his arms over his chest. 

“Is that understood?”  Renovitch pushed.

Ericson stared back with a slight smile.

“Is that understood?”  Renovitch tried again.

Ericson uncrossed his arms and leaned back in toward the desk.  “I know who I work for.  I know what I can and can’t do.  I’ve been doing this shit a lot longer than you have.  While you were busy preaching, or theorizing, I’ve been doing it.  I’m allowed to take McRoss not because I’m given a little treat for my loyalty.  I’m taking McRoss because that’s the way to keep people following.  When you get shoved you don’t just shove back.”  He leaned further in and let the words hang in the air for a moment.  “You destroy!”  He roared directly into Renovitch’s face. 

“Now get your shit together and let’s get out of here,” he said casually as if the confrontation hadn’t just occurred.  With those words he pushed off the desk, turned toward the door and began walking out between the cubicles. 

Marcus stared at his right forearm, mentally playing connect-the-dots with his freckles.  Summer always brought them out in full bloom, accentuating his ginger complexion.  He could hear the cars through the trees passing quickly by park.  He sat on the top of the picnic table, head down nervously tapping his foot on the bench.  The parking lot nearest the picnic area was empty except for Marcus’ car.  Occasionally he lifted his head to quickly scan the park.

The phone in his hand buzzed with a text message.  “U thr?”  With one deft hand he quickly replied “yup.”  After a quick second the phone buzzed back. “2 secs.”

Marcus put his phone back in his pocket and stood up from the picnic table.  He placed his hands on his hips and squared his shoulders in an attempt to look menacing.  It did not work.

Within the minute a silver/green rusted Kia coupe scrapped across the parking lot apron and sped across the lot, taking the empty space closest to the park pavilions. The engine rumbled to a stop and the driver, a lanky boy with greasy long dark hair, bounced out of the driver’s seat.  “Hey Marco!” he shouted, waiving wildly.  Marcus frowned and nodded uncomfortably.

The greasy kid half jogged to Marcus’ side, “So, do you have it?”

“$200, right?”

“Yep, $200.  Please don’t count it here Tim.”

“He’s gonna want it counted, but he can count it in the car.”  Tim said, indicating to the shadow seated in the front passenger seat. 

Marcus handed over a binder clip with ten 20 dollar bills pinched tightly in half.  “Whatever, just hurry up please.”

Tim ran back to the car.  Marcus watched the two shadows through the glare in the windshield.  Tim flipped the passenger Marcus’ clip.  The passenger opened the clip, counted the money, then passed Tim a small children’s backpack.  Tim jogged back over to Marcus.  “Here you go, backpack is complimentary.”  He flashed Marcus a goofy smile.

“Nice.”  Marcus shook his head, wondering how he could explain having something so stupid.  “Bullets?”

“No, bullets are extra.”

“Bullshit Tim, you said everything for two hundred.”  Marcus began walking toward the car.  He noticed the passenger sit up in his seat.

Tim held up his hand indicating for Marcus to stay put.  “Hold on, hold on,” he said as he jogged back to the car.  He opened the driver’s side door and stuck his head in.  Marcus could see the passenger wagging his finger at Tim.  Tim pointed toward Marcus, then at the floor of the Kia, then back to Marcus.  He stood and shrugged, then slouched back toward the car.  Marcus wasn’t sure if he was pushing his luck.  He contemplated taking the backpack and slipping into the woods.  Before he could make a move he saw the passenger throw Tim a box. 

Tim jogged back toward Marcus.  “Fifty rounds of 9.  Don’t blow it all in one place.”

“Thanks Tim.  Please keep your mouth shut about this.”

“That’s just good business Marco,” he smiled, clicked his cheek and flashed him the two-fingered-pistol-salute.  He returned to the waiting car, backed out of the parking space and sped from the lot. 

Marcus went to one knee and opened the front pocket of the backpack.  He placed the brick of ammo in the pocket and zipped it shut.  He then opened up the main compartment and looked in.  The pink fabric of the backpack illuminated the black gun inside.  Marcus instantly shivered; a cold sweat broke out on his back as he contemplated the new world he had just entered.