Shay Savage - Otherwise Unharmed

I couldn’t speak as I stared at the paper and tried to make sense out of it beyond the obvious.  Were they too young to take care of me?  Were they pressured into giving me up by her mother?  Why raise me as an orphan instead of letting me know who my grandmother was?

Jonathan opened the sliding glass door, and I followed him dumbly into the apartment and sat on the couch.  My heart continued to pound.  I could only stare at the paper and try to make some kind of sense out of it.  Questions I had considered far beyond answering were popping into my head though I hadn’t thought about it all in years.  I had decided I didn’t care—whoever my parents were and why they decided to ditch me would always remain a mystery.  Now that I had a smidge of information, I wanted more.

“Well,” Jonathan said quietly, “I just wanted to give ya that.  I’ll leave ya be now.”

I found my voice.

“Hey, Jon?”

“Yeah, brotha?”

“I have something for you.”  I went back into the bedroom to retrieve the “Save Ferris” T-shirt I had bought for him some time ago, still in its plastic bag.  I handed it over to him, and he opened it up.

At first he looked a little confused, and then his eyes darted over to me.

“It ain’t my birthday,” he remarked.

“I missed your birthday.”

“That was six months ago.”

“I bought it in December.”

“Why were you going to kill me in December?”

Jonathan always was a lot more perceptive than he appeared, and I needed to remember that.  I smiled a half smile at him and shrugged.

“I was just checking on something.  You were clean, though.”

“Uh huh,” Jonathan mumbled skeptically.

“I was considering it a few minutes ago, too.”  I smiled a bit more.

Jonathan laughed.

“I guess I’m definitely thankful for this—in more ways than one.  Thanks, brotha.”

We shook hands, and he started for the door.

“Oh yeah,” Jonathan said as he snapped his fingers.  “I got ya something else, too, but I didn’t bring it with me.  Here ya go.”

He fished around in his pocket, came up with a couple lighters, shoved them into the other pocket, and then pulled out a key.  He tossed it to me with a flick of his wrist and walked out the door.

It was a numbered locker key with the name of one of the gyms in the area engraved on it. Far too curious to wait, I made my way to the nearest bus that would take me to the gym.  Inside the locker was a large gym bag.  Sitting on top of the bag was my old phone, containing several dozen messages from Rinaldo, Mark Duncan, and Jonathan.  I looked around to confirm no one was watching me, pocketed the phone, and then quickly unzipped the top of the bag to peek inside.

It was my Barrett.

Nothing could have surprised me more.

As much as I wanted to take my Barrett somewhere private and spend a lot of time with it, I was going to have to wait until I moved Lia to another location.  I tossed the bag over my shoulder, and the familiar weight felt fantastic.  I wasn’t sure how Jonathan had managed to get evidence away from the Chicago police, but I was definitely grateful.

Lia had both herself and Odin ready to go when I arrived.  I called a cab because I didn’t want her seen any more than absolutely necessary, and any form of public transportation wasn’t fast enough for me at this point.  I watched out the window for the cab to arrive and then ushered both Lia and Odin downstairs.

As soon as I walked outside, he was there—the kid with the bomb strapped around his waist.  I tensed and fought against the urge to pull my gun out and start firing.  I closed my eyes, shook my head, and looked again, but he was still there.  He didn’t move—only stood there with tears running down his cheeks.

“Let’s get out of here.”  I opened the back door of the cab and held Lia’s hand as she climbed in.

The cab driver looked more like a chauffeur than a usual cabbie.  He had on one of those captain-style hats and dark glasses.  He helped load Lia’s suitcase into the trunk, and we got on our way with Lia sitting in the center seat so Odin could hang his tongue out the window.

I gave the cabbie directions to a neighborhood in Avondale.  We wouldn’t be staying there—it was just a stopping point to get another cab.  He pulled onto the expressway, and I sat back in the seat and closed my eyes.

Lia leaned over to put her head on my shoulder and spoke softly.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“I’ll tell you when we get there,” I replied, keeping my voice low.  “This is just a detour.”

She stayed quiet as we traveled quickly down the center lane.  I scratched Odin’s neck and ears as he sniffed at the corner of the window, occasionally sneezing into the wind.  My mind was occupied enough for the moment that I almost didn’t realize where we were.

“You missed the exit,” I called up front.

“Did I?  Sorry about that.  I’ll get the next one.”

I narrowed my eyes a bit at the face in the rearview mirror.  I was abruptly uneasy and had to fight down the paranoia growing in my gut.  I glanced out the window and half expected to see the kid on the side of the road, but he wasn’t there.  I took a deep breath and tried to center myself.

It didn’t work.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked the driver as he sped past the next exit and continued on the expressway.

“I was going to take Parkview,” he said.  “There’s less traffic.”

“Bullshit!”  Without hesitation, I released the seatbelt, pulled out my gun, and put it next to the driver’s head.  “I’m not putting up with elevated fucking prices from a piece of shit cab driver.  Take the next fucking exit.”

“Evan!  What are you doing!”  Lia grabbed my elbow, but I shook her off and told her to sit back and be quiet.  She huffed at me but did as I said.

“You should listen to Miss Antonio,” the driver said.  “Pointing a gun at the driver isn’t safe for the passengers.  I could get nervous and make a mistake.”

Miss Antonio?  How did he know her name?

“Please, Evan.”

I ignored Lia’s protest.

“I’m going to pull the fucking trigger if you don’t pull over now.”

“No you won’t,” he said.  “If you do that, we’re all meat on the highway.”

Something about his phrase sounded familiar—like I had heard someone else use the same words or something close to them anyway.  The whole thing was off—a real cab driver wouldn’t be reacting this way with a gun in his face.  This guy had been in a similar position before.

He knew Lia’s name.

“Who the fuck are you?” I asked.

“Who me?  I could be anybody.”  The dude smirked as he glanced sideways at me.  “And if you don’t get that piece out of my face, I’m going to ram this car into the fucking barrier.”

I wasn’t going to give him that chance.

I fired.

The driver slumped forward on the wheel.

The car began to turn wildly to the left.

Lia screamed.

With my hands against the side of the bucket seat, I hauled myself into the front and grabbed the wheel.  My legs were still behind me—trapped between the front and back sections of the car—but I at least had my hands on the wheel.  I tried to get it straightened out, but we were heading into the fast lane of traffic and skidding at the same time.  I didn’t want to overcompensate and flip the car.

With the unlikely cabbie’s body sliding into me and trying to push me right off the steering wheel altogether and Lia screaming in the backseat, I tightened my grip on the wheel and managed to ease it to the right just enough to stop the sliding.  We were still heading straight toward another car, though, and I couldn’t get my feet out of the back to bring the rest of my body into the front seat to hit the brake.

“Lia!  Shut up and grab my foot!”

“What?”  There was so much panic in her voice, and I needed her to calm down before we crashed.

The car in front of us swerved into another lane and we whizzed by.

“My foot is stuck,” I said with as much calm as I could.  “Get it unstuck.”

I felt her hands wrap around my boot and give my ankle a painful twist.

“Ow!  Shit!”

“I’m sorry!”

“Just get it out!”

A twist in the other direction still hurt, but my foot popped free, and I pulled it over the center console and pushed it between the dead man’s legs to get to the brake.  I had to kick his leg out of the way but finally felt the pedal against the bottom of my boot.

As I sat in his lap, I managed to slow us down and get over to the side of the expressway with only a handful of horns honking at us.  I didn’t have time for any other bullshit, so I just opened the door, shoved the body out the driver’s side, and sped off again.

Lia was practically hysterical.

“Calm down, baby.”

“I-I-I can’t!”

“Yes, you can,” I corrected softly.  “We’re okay now.”

“You killed the cab driver!”

“He wasn’t a fucking cab driver.”

“What?”

“Just...just hang on for a bit, okay?  I need to ditch this car.”

I pulled off the expressway, onto a side road, and down a narrow street.  It was lined with buildings containing boarded up windows, which was as good a place as any to stop.

“Hold on to Odin,” I instructed.  “I’ll get the shit out of the trunk.  We’ll have to walk a ways and get another cab.”

“Evan, there’s blood all over you.”

“I know.”  I found the trunk release under the steering wheel, ran around to the back of the car, and opened up one of the bags inside.  I pulled out a T-shirt to wipe the blood and tissue off of my face, neck, and arm.  “Did I get it all?”

Lia looked at me with her lip tucked behind her teeth.

“There’s some on your shirt,” she said.

I tore it off, tossed it into the car, not giving a shit about evidence at this point—it’s not like I was going to spend time wiping the car for prints—and dug out another shirt.  As I was pulling it on, Lia bent over at the waist and puked near the back tire as Odin whined and paced about on his leash.

“You okay?” I asked when she was done.  I gave her one of her own shirts to wipe her mouth and hands and took Odin’s leash from her.

“No,” she said in a voice I could barely hear.  “I’m not sure I will be.”

I looked up and down the street.  We needed to get away from the blood-filled car as quickly as possible, and I couldn’t accomplish that with Lia freaking out on me.

“Just relax, baby,” I said, hoping that would help.

It didn’t.

“Relax?  How can you fucking say that?”

At least it got her angry instead of scared.  I could work with that.

“You know the kind of shit I do,” I reminded her.

“Knowing it and seeing it aren’t the same thing,” she said.

I couldn’t argue with her on that one.  Instead, I pulled her close to me and whispered against her ear.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, baby—so sorry.  It was the only thing I could do to keep him from killing you.”

“Killing me?”

There was no point in hiding the truth any longer.  I pulled her closer to my chest and pressed my lips to her hair.

“My former boss, Rinaldo, knows I’ve hooked up with Greco.  He’s taking it out on you.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means he put a contract out on you.  He’s offering fifteen grand to the person who kills you.”

She tensed in my arms, and her body shuddered.  I knew she was crying even though I couldn’t see her face.  I tightened my hold on her and then pulled back to lead her down the street.  She didn’t resist though I couldn’t get her to go at a pace I considered quick enough.  Odin was also skittish but followed me obediently.

We walked about a dozen blocks before I called another cab company– one I hadn’t used before—from a payphone.  This time, the driver was an Indian guy wearing a flannel shirt that looked like it came right off the George Lucas line but no dark glasses or hat.

He drove us south where we got another cab up north.  A few more similar trips and one bribed bus driver to allow Odin to ride later, we were at a small house in a crappy neighborhood.

“Whose house is this?” Lia asked as we went in.

“Mine,” I replied.  “I bought it a few years ago because I needed a place to lie low every once in a while.”

“Like now?”

“Exactly.”