“READY?" Reuben said.
"For four months now. Ain't nothing to it, but to do it." Reg pounded on the hard wood door of the address uncovered from the stolen file. No answer. He knocked again, calling out, "Bay City Police. Open up.”
A mum house persisted. He gave Reuben the nod to check around back.
Reg recognized the home’s architectural design, as part of the Mayor's 'Bring the Suburbs to the City' campaign, a few years back. Abutting two story homes, each with a large artificial patch of grass in its backyard, built smack in the middle of North Bangor, Reg's neighborhood. It was the stupidest idea he had ever heard of.
“If people want to live in the suburbs, they move to the suburbs,” he remembered telling Carol. “Why would anyone pay for the comfort of a house, to get the noise of the city?”
It didn't make sense to him, which, of course, meant Carol loved the idea. They were yin and yang when it came to things like that. And like the yin and yang symbols, they balanced each other out.
Reg knocked again. “Bay City Police.”
Him didn’t think much of the knocking noise at first. People visited Raul and his wife all the time, but never bothered the basement area. There were good feelings toward Raul. He worked at the health center and would always have a smile, and sometimes even a chocolate bar. Hilliard probably told Raul of his like for chocolate.
But when a deep voice said—“Bay City Police”—Him freaked out.
In the three years Him had lived there, the cops never came to the door. What did this mean? What do they want? Him’s thoughts were abuzz like a hive, same as the hive he saw on the nature channel the night before. His brain moved from Hilliard and consequence sessions, to the Artemisians and the cage; to the women Jeremy made them hurt, to the Artemisians and the cage; to no more pizza and chocolate, to the Artemisians and the cage.
Why did he listen to Jeremy? Why? Why? Why? Him's pupils bounced around like pinballs in eye socket bumpers. The shaking and shuttering came next, followed by uncontrollable spasms of cold fear. The cage was all consuming in his thoughts. The cage and the nasty sex.
“It's not fair. I was going to quit. The last one was the last one. Him was going to tell Jeremy no more—"
{Will you shut up? This is no time for your little baby ramblings,} the voice shouted inside his head.
"Jeremy? What are you doing here?"
{Saving your ass. Snap your trap and let me think.}
"No, Jeremy. Him will not listen anymore. You said we wouldn't get caught, and now cops are banging upstairs. You said you knew everything to do right, and now cops are banging upstairs. You said they would never know, and now—"
Johnathan Fare's balled right fist swung through the air and punched him in the nose. He ‘thwapped’ on the hard basement floor like a slab of raw meat on the butcher’s counter.
{I said shut up, Johnnie, dammit. I'm trying to think.}
Him lay on the floor with a bloody nose. He did not like the words in his head. There was no like for being called Johnnie, and no like for Jeremy anymore. Jeremy was always mad, always punching him for something that was said. Him would like to be the one punching Jeremy for once.
{Stupid, didn't I protect you from the men who wanted to stab you with their meat sticks? And the women who wanted to ride you like a fucking thoroughbred in the Belmont Stakes?}
"Yes," Him garbled through the blood bubble that popped over his mouth.
{This is no different. Get up and wipe your nose, or you will be in the cage again, and this time, I won’t be there to protect you. Remember how Whitfield took me away?}
"I remember," Him garbled again, wishing Whitfield were there now.
{Then get up, Johnnie boy, and let's get moving.}
Johnathan rose unsteadily and stumbled to the bathroom for a towel. He weaved behind him a spotted red trail on the finished, grey basement floor.
There was no choice for Him. Jeremy was in charge. That is the way it was when he was around. It wasn’t always that way. There was control over Jeremy at first. Him could make Jeremy come and go whenever was needed. But the more Him needed, the stronger Jeremy became.
He lifted a towel from the rack to wipe his nose.
{Wet it first, stupid.}
Johnathan wet the towel under the faucet and cleaned himself.
"How are we going to get out of this, Jeremy? The cops are still knocking. They will be down here soon."
{They are still knocking, but has anyone answered?}
Johnathan quickly finished with the towel. He turned off the water and strained his ears. He could hear the cops banging. They were shouting about having a word with whoever was inside the house. No one answered them.
{See? Raul isn't home, and his wife is probably out shopping. They will have to come back another time. Meanwhile, Hilliard will move us somewhere else.}
What they heard next was no knock, but a loud crash, and then splintering wood.
Reuben heard the same noise from his rear position and sprinted for the front of the house. He arrived in time to block his partner from entering the residence.
"We don't have a warrant.”
Reg stared through Reuben and into the great beyond. In the year and a half he had been Reuben’s partner, he had no reason to want to hurt him, until now.
"If you want this to stick, we have to do it by the book,” Reuben said. “That means getting a warrant for the premises."
Reg knew he was right. Hell, everyone was right. Carol was right for leaving him. Madelin was right for not wanting her daughter to marry him. Scallywag woman was right, and he was a scruffy cop. His sister was right too, because he was on the edge of the abyss, standing on a banana peel. He didn’t care anymore.
"Rube, you’re a good man, but get out of my way. If that bastard is in there hiding like I think he is, I’m going in after him."
Ever since the bullet meant for a gang member, took an honest man away from his family, he cared less and less. Carol saw it and tried to save him. He should have listened.
“This is crazy. You want to groundhog your career for this guy? I want him badly as you, but this is not the way.” Reuben probed deeper into cold, silent eyes. “Holy—! You’re not going in to bring him out, you’re going in to kill him, aren't you?”
Reg’s unapologetic stare spoke for him.
"Oh, man. This is not going to bring Carol back, and it sure as hell ain’t gonna make you righteous again.”
“Maybe, but it’ll make me feel good.”
“Let’s slow down a minute here, Reg. Slow down.”
“The Animal dies, Rube. It’s a win-win. Read the file. I’ll get to feel good about taking out a monster, and he will never see the inside of a cage again.”
“Just like that? Blam and he’s dead. When did this happen?” Reuben said.
“Somewhere between knocking on the door and kicking it in, I knew he had to die. And I have to be the one to do it,” Reg said.
“Then two people will die, cause you have to get through me first.” Reuben backed up a step, filling the doorway with his bulk.
Reg stared him down a moment, then said, “You’re right, Rube, I’m sorry. Don’t know what I was thinking.”
“That’s more like it.” Reuben relaxed his stance. “Don’t worry, partner. If he’s inside, he won’t get past us.”
“I hear you. Hey, why don’t you go call it in, and I’ll play doorman. Make sure nobody gets in or out,” Reg said.
Reuben’s legs stiffened again. His eyes did the same. “You fake me left and then go right, is that it, partner? Not cool, Reg.”
They exchanged grim stares. A clatter of empty metal garbage cans, coming from the rear of the house, ended the standoff. Detective partners bolted around a bed of hydrangea bushes. They descended on the backyard in time to see their prime suspect hurtling a property fence.
"Johnathan Fare. Bay City Police. Stop right there,” Reg called after him.
"I'm going for the car. Do your thing.” Reuben bailed for the sedan parked in front of the house.
Reg backed up a step, took a running start, and vaulted the waist-high divide after the Animal. Nothing else has been easy, why should this be any different? He jumped two more ‘Bring the Suburbs to the City’ fences, but hadn’t gained a step on his suspect.
In chasing down Benny Giovanni, Reg felt the pain of his slack workouts. Carol’s absence had zapped him of physical fitness enthusiasm. He felt more pain now. Benny didn’t jump any fences, or trudge through fake, wet mush-grass, in his getaway. If he had, he might still be free.
He breathed heavy. Sweat exploded onto his brow. With every step, he felt the effects of too many gin soaked nights. By the fourth fence he was winded. There were three fences left to hurdle, before the yards gave way to open neighborhood. Fare was already over two of them. Reg sucked in a mound of air and picked up his pace. He had a feeling Reuben wasn't going to save him on this one.
Him wanted to scream. How did they find Raul's place? How could they know the name? Johnathan Fare jumped over the last backyard fence leading to the street. He narrowly avoided crushing a stray cat beneath muddy heels. Him didn't know where they were running. Jeremy was leading the way.
{Across the street. Fire escape. See Johnnie boy climb.}
Too concerned about the impending cage to care if he was hit, Him raced into the middle of traffic.
Reuben swerved to avoid hitting him, and plowed into a fire hydrant. His head bounced off the steering wheel, like a basketball off the famed parquet of Boston Garden.
Reg hopped the last fence. He gulped his second wind and paused to have a look around. He saw water blasting thirty feet into the air from the busted hydrant. Reuben sat slumped behind the wheel of the smashed-in sedan, holding his head. He spotted Fare on the opposite side of the street, leaping for the bottom rung of a fire escape ladder.
Quickly, and without second thought, Reg made the choice that had to be made. He scooted through the falling water and pulled Reuben away from the deluge. He sat him propped against an adjacent building.
"Look at me.” He shook him by the shoulders. “Are you going to be okay? Can I leave you here?”
"Ugh."
"Fare is getting away.”
Reuben’s head bobbed a sleeper’s nod. “Go after him,” he mumbled into his chest.
Reg grabbed the nearest passerby he could find, a redheaded teenager all of 100 pounds.
“You got a cell phone?"
"What the hell? Let go of me."
"I’m a police officer.” He showed her the badge on his hip, and pointed at Reuben. "So is he. Call 911 and say officer down. Understand?”
"Yeah, okay, whatever.”
He expressed the importance of the call one last time, and turned to see Fare climbing onto the roof. Reg galloped after him.