Alibi Junior High Page 15

  Pogo Stick moans, “Man, Cody, what are you trying to do, kill us?”

  Andy starts handing out water bottles. “I think Cody wants to be a drill sergeant. He’s trying to turn all of you into lean, mean, fighting machines.”

  I smile but it’s mainly to hide my embarrassment. I didn’t realize I was pushing everyone that hard. They look exhausted.

  Bop guzzles his water and goes to the refrigerator for another. He twists off the top and says, “Andy, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “How’d you lose your arm?”

  I can’t believe he just asked that. Maybe that’s something Andy doesn’t want to talk about. Didn’t he think about that? I glance around the room: everyone looks as uncomfortable as I feel.

  “Oh, my arm? I lost it in Iraq.”

  Pogo Stick surprises me by saying, “How?” Not that I blame him. I think everyone in the room wanted to say that word. He just had less self-control than the rest of us.

  Andy smiles but it isn’t one of those happy smiles, it’s more of an I’ll-smile-just-because smile. “So, you want to hear a war story?”

  Pogo Stick nods his head.

  “Okay, then.” He lets out a long breath of air. “Let’s see, I guess you could say a teddy bear took my arm.”

  I heard “teddy bear” but it didn’t really make sense to me. My mind keeps repeating the sentence. Shuffling the words around, searching for a new meaning that makes some kind of sense.

  John asks in a voice that sounds very little like his normal one, “Did you say…teddy bear?”

  “Yes. We were on foot patrol in Baghdad heading back to camp and we were just at that point where you start to relax a little. Not a lot, because you never really relax, but just a little. These thoughts of what you’re going to do later start popping into your head.”

  Andy takes a long pull from his water bottle. I notice that it’s shaking in his hand.

  “Anyhow, we went around a corner and came upon this teddy bear lying on the sidewalk. It was…well, I guess you’d call it ‘cute,’ something you’d see back home. One of the guys went to pick it up, I told him to leave it alone but he picked it up anyway. There was this noise, it sounded like a big kid belly-flopping into a pool, followed by a really bright flash; it was like looking into the sun. It blinded me; I couldn’t see a thing.”

  He stops talking. Beads of sweat are running down his forehead. He closes his eyes for a second, takes a deep breath, and pushes on with the story.

  “I don’t remember much after that, just being terrified, bullets and grenades were flying all around. I was running blind, with one hand outstretched and the other on the wall of a building, feeling my way for cover until an explosion lifted me off my feet and slammed me down in a dirt alleyway.”

  The room is silent. We all look at one another. Something about the way Andy told the story made me feel like I was there. I think the others felt it too. It was in his eyes. I could see the fear, the confusion, and the pain. Maybe my dad’s right: maybe it is time to try to end war.

  John clears his throat. “Um, did the explosion take your arm off?”

  “I was in a coma for three days. When I woke, it was gone.”

  Pogo Stick asks, “Was that scary? I mean, when you woke up and realized your arm was gone.”

  Andy’s quiet for a long time, just leaning against the wall, looking at the floor. I start to wonder if we might have asked him one too many questions.

  Finally he looks up and says, “More than you can ever imagine.”

  The room’s quiet, the CD ended long before Andy started to talk. Now the silence seems suffocating. I’d like to say something, anything, to fill this emptiness but nothing comes to mind.

  Knock.

  Knock.

  Knock.

  Everyone jumps, even Andy. I look at the door. Renee’s outside with a huge smile, energetically waving through the window at us.

  The guys start to tease me. I think it’s mainly just something to throw into the air, a welcome opportunity to escape from the silent aftermath of Andy’s story.

  I don’t mind, I’m glad to see her and I’d rather hear a chorus of “Oooh, it’s Cody’s girlfriend” than the vicious silence that was just smothering us moments before.

  I jog across the room and meet her outside. “Hey, I was worried you weren’t going to show up.”

  She smiles. “Sorry, it’s my sister. She’s running late for everything.”

  “That’s okay, at least you made it. Want to come in and say hello to the guys?”

  She stops smiling. “No. Is there someplace we can go to talk? It’s kinda important.”

  I try to keep an upbeat tone to my voice. I tell myself that whatever happens, no matter how bad her news is, I won’t let her see how disappointed I am.

  “Sure, there’s a bench over by the apple tree.”

  We walk across the backyard and sit side by side on the bench. It’s a warm fall night; the sun’s setting behind us, and the sky is a blazing canopy of colors. If I wasn’t expecting bad news this could be a perfect romantic moment.

  I look into her eyes. They look so sad. “Renee, what’s the matter?”

  “It’s my sister.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “No, it’s Johnny.”

  “What? Who’s Johnny?”

  She takes a big breath. “Johnny’s my sister’s boyfriend. Remember? He’s in the army?”

  I nod my head. “Oh, yeah.”

  “Well, they’ve been dating, like, forever, ever since high school, they were even talking about getting married. They had all this history, all these plans.”

  “Did something happen to Johnny in Iraq?”

  “You could say that. It really changed him, turned him into a different person. Mean and nasty. He used to be so nice. I noticed it the last time he was in town. A few days ago he called my sister and told her he didn’t want to see her anymore. Just like that. He said he met someone new. I guess she’s in the army, too.”

  I shake my head. “That’s messed up. How’s your sister?”

  “She’s a wreck. She hasn’t been to work, she doesn’t sleep, hardly eats. The thing is, I know she worried about him every day he was over there. Every single day, think about that. Then to have him just leave her like this? It’s…it’s too much for her.”

  I have her hand in mine. I’m not sure how that happened, she just reached out while she was talking and they folded together. “Anything I can do to help?”

  She looks me in the eye. “Funny you should say that. I’ve got this idea. It’s something you can help me with.”

  “What would you like me to do?” Sitting here on this bench, with her hand in mine, I believe I would do absolutely anything she suggested, even if she wanted me to go to Iraq and personally kidnap Johnny.

  There’s a little gleam to her eyes. “It’s like this: I know my sister likes Andy and it’s easy to see how much Andy likes my sister. Maybe the four of us should do more things together. Like we did last week at the Ice Cream Shack. We don’t have to push, just put them together and see what happens.”

  “I think that’s a great idea. You had me worried, I thought you were coming here to tell me to back off.”

  “Back off?”

  “You know, I thought maybe I was becoming a pest or something.”

  She quickly leans forward and kisses me on the lips. It happens so fast I don’t even have time to react. “You’re definitely not a pest. I want to do more things with you, not less.”

  Did she really just kiss me? On the lips? Why didn’t I kiss her back? I don’t believe it, my first kiss was over before I even realized what was happening. Figures.

  Say something. You’re just sitting here. She’s going to think you’re really strange if you just sit here. Say something. “Um, I want to do more with you too.”

  She rests her hand on my shoulder. “How about now? Annie’s waiting in her car. You think you coul
d get Andy? We’ll all go out for pizza.”

  “Sounds good to me, but let me ask Jenny. I’m sure she’ll say yes but I have to ask her first. Then I’ll work on Andy.”

  “All right, I’ll meet you over by the car.”

  I jump to my feet and run to our cottage. I think I set a new record for covering the two hundred feet. I burst through the front door.

  “Hey, Jenny!”

  I slam the door behind me.

  “Jenny! You were right!”

  I run down the hall toward the kitchen.

  “Jenny, you’ll never guess what just…”

  She’s in the middle of the kitchen, tied to a chair, duct tape covering her mouth. She grunts, moans, tries to say something. Her eyes are wide, full of panic and fear.

  I hear someone behind me.

  I pivot on my left foot. A large man is thundering toward me, at least twice my size.

  I snap kick, aiming for his throat but he’s moving too fast, and I catch him in the chest. He stumbles back. I sweep his left knee and it buckles slightly.

  My hand shoots out, fingers stiff, going for his eyes. I only catch one but it’s enough to get me in close with a jab, cross, and an elbow strike across his chin. He’s stunned; I step back to ready a roundhouse to his temple.

  But he’s fast; he’s on top of me and slams me against the wall. I hear a crash as something smashes to the floor. I get in another quick shot at his left knee. It buckles more this time and he grunts. I move inside with a jab and cross to his nose; I feel it break with the second punch.

  He howls in pain, picks me up by my throat, and slams me down on the kitchen table. It collapses onto the floor. Everything goes black for a second. Everything hurts. I roll to the side as he thunders after me and I grab a table leg off the floor. I slam it against that left knee again. It buckles all the way this time.

  I’ve got him.

  I spring to my feet. I’ve got a clear shot at his head.

  “Hold it!”

  There’s someone behind me. I look over my shoulder. There’s another large man hurrying into the kitchen. He’s pointing an AK-47 at me. The huge weapon has my full attention.

  “Drop it!”

  I let the table leg fall to the floor.

  He keeps the gun pointed at me and barks at the other guy, “Didn’t I tell you to be careful with the kid? Told you he was a weapon!”

  The guy I was fighting grabs a kitchen towel and presses it against his bleeding nose. “I think the little punk broke my nose!”

  He spits a mouthful of blood into the sink. “And he messed up my knee big-time.”

  “You’re just lucky I got back in time. One more second and he would have taken you out.”

  He spits into the sink again. “I don’t know about that. I had the punk lined up.”

  The gunman aims the rifle at my chest. “Yeah, right. Tie him up tight and tape his mouth and eyes. Do her eyes, too.”

  Broken Nose Guy slams me down in a kitchen chair. I make eye contact with Jenny. She looks terrified. I try to smile. My arms are pulled behind me and my wrists are bound with rope.

  I hear him pull a piece of duct tape off the roll and rip it. A moment later he slaps it across my mouth. He repeats the process for my eyes but this time he really slaps the tape on hard. It’s like being punched one last time.

  Gunman says, “Were the lights off in the main house before?”

  “I dunno, I think so.”

  Someone’s ripping another piece of duct tape.

  “Doesn’t matter. Let’s go. But keep your eyes open.”

  I’m pulled to my feet. I hear the same being done to Jenny. “Okay, guys, here’s the deal. We’re going to go out the back door, through the woods, to a van parked on the road. If anyone tries anything funny, the other one gets shot. Nod your head if you understand.”

  I nod my head. I’ll cooperate. I don’t want anything to happen to Jenny.

  What’s Renee going to think when I don’t come back?

  It felt like we drove for hours. We were thrown into the rear of a van and we slid around on the hard metal floor like two sacks of flour. I managed to inch my bound body over to Jenny’s and pressed myself up against her. It kept us from sliding and gave me some comfort to feel her next to me.

  The two men, who called each other “Dude” and “Dawg,” listened to the World Series as we bounced along on the back roads. Dawg was the one whose nose I broke; he complained about it constantly. What a wimp.

  They cheered loudly and pounded on the dashboard every time the Yankees scored a run. Figures.

  I managed to roll over Jenny and get behind her. The radio was so loud they didn’t hear me. Very unprofessional. I tried to untie her hands; the ropes were tight and the knots massive. It was difficult with my wrists bound behind me. When I tired Jenny would work on mine.

  I was terrified that they were going to kill us. That they were going to take us deep into the woods and dump our lifeless bodies someplace where nobody would ever find them. The longer the ride lasted the greater this fear became.

  It’s strange but I couldn’t stop thinking about my dad. If something happened to me I know he’d just fall apart. First my mom, now me—it would be too much. He never talked about my mother and I always understood why. It was too painful for him. In two months Jenny has told me more about her than my dad has in my entire life.

  I tried to keep focused on untying Jenny’s wrists, to push the negative thoughts out of my head. I tried to think of anything my dad taught me that might come in handy but it was difficult to concentrate with the game blasting and the smothering fear that wouldn’t go away.

  Jenny’s long fingers and sharp fingernails seem to be having an effect on my knotted rope. It definitely feels looser. It’s a start. Dams don’t just break all at once; they start with a little leak. This is my leak. If the duct tape wasn’t so tight across my mouth I might even smile.

  When the van finally stops, the Yankees are winning four to two.

  The men sit for a while and wait for the inning to end before opening the sliding door and pulling us outside. They don’t say anything, just “Walk,” before pushing us in one direction. It feels like we’re on an old parking lot, full of holes and broken curbs; it’s difficult to hike across with this duct tape on my eyes. Dawg laughs whenever I trip.

  There’s a loud grinding, crunching noise off in the distance; it sounds familiar, like what I used to hear in the background when my dad called. Maybe it’s nothing to get excited about, just a similar sound, but maybe it means something.

  It seems like we walk forever but it’s hard to tell; when you can’t see where you’re going even the shortest distance feels too far. I don’t dare work on the ropes. I’m worried one of the guys will notice. Eventually we’re led through a door.

  Inside, it smells old and musty. There’s a cold, stale dampness to the air. Each step we take and each door that’s opened or closed echoes loudly, leaving me to believe that we’re in a large abandoned factory.

  Eventually we’re led into a room and forced into hard wooden chairs. Dawg roughly ties me to mine and I can hear Dude doing the same to Jenny.

  They leave the duct tape on our mouths and eyes. Not being able to talk or see is beginning to take its toll. It makes me feel powerless; it heightens my fear. It’s like I’m drowning.

  After a while Dude snorts, “Okay, good enough, turn on the game already.”

  The game comes pumping into the room, the sound echoes around me. There’s something oddly comforting about it. Even though everything here is crazy, out there something is stable and moving along, following a strict set of rules and regulations. If there’s structure somewhere, this chaos can’t last forever.

  The Mets manage to scratch out another run but a new Yankee pitcher comes into the game and starts striking out one Met batter after another. I keep working on the ropes; they’re definitely getting looser. Dawg and Dude cheer loudly after each strikeout.

 
It doesn’t look good for the Mets. It’s the bottom of the ninth and the Yankee pitcher strikes out the first batter with three pitches. I can’t believe this dumb game is pushing its way into my head. Dawg walks over to us and practically shouts, “You guys are Met fans, aren’t you? I saw the hat in your kitchen.”

  I nod my head, I don’t know why, and apparently Jenny did the same because a moment later the tape is violently ripped off our eyes and mouths. It feels like half my eyebrows were removed with the tape.

  Dawg has a huge grin below his surprisingly large swollen nose. He points at us and barks, “Your loser team is going down. Sit here and watch the Yankees win another World Series. Ain’t that right, Dude?”

  “Got that right!” The two of them laugh like it’s the most hilarious thing anyone has ever said before. Is there something wrong with these guys?

  There’s a television on a desk across the room. Dawg runs over and flops onto an old couch set up in front of it. He turns and grins. “Your team’s going bye-bye.”

  Dude is standing over by a large window. It’s open and there are bags of sand stacked up in front of it. He’s dividing his time between scanning the yard outside with his rifle and looking at the game.

  Something about the way Dawg moved across the room seems familiar to me. What is it? The waitress’s smile and her little wink suddenly flash into my head, and I remember how the large man ran from the blue car right before the explosion.

  He ran exactly like Dawg, and like the waitress’s wink, it’s something I’ll never forget.

  The words come out of my mouth before I even have time to think about them. “Hey, you did it! You were the one who blew up that café!”

  He looks over the top of the couch. “Quiet, kid, or I’m taping your mouth shut again!”

  Jenny mutters, “Cody, try to control yourself.”

  I ignore her and shout, “You killed all those people! What’s wrong with you?”

  “I’m warning you! Shut up or you’re getting taped.”

  The words keep flowing, it’s like I have no control over them. “But they didn’t do anything! Twelve people died that day. You killed twelve people! Why? What’s wrong with you?”