Kingdom of God Page 17

  My brain was just on fire at that point. I couldn’t even think. I just remember getting pulled out of the car, dragged up some stairs and thrown into a box. It was sweltering in there. I couldn’t sit up straight. I thought they were going to bury me alive.

  I returned to the sequoias. Camping. The trees. The Milky Way. The lake so still it reflected every star in the sky. I remember Dad, Matt and me would put these soda cans on the campfire. This was after mom went to bed. And we waited and waited and waited until they finally blew up. Sparks flew everywhere. It put the entire fire out. It was so loud that it woke Mom up, along with about half the state. We laughed so hard, it was awesome. Those kind of things help keep my brain intact.

  Chris opened the box and splashed my face with something. It smelled awful. He pestered me with questions like ‘Where is your father? Did you find him? What are you doing down here?’ My throat hurt so much that I couldn’t even speak. He started scolding me. Calling me useless. Greedy. Pathetic. I used to do whatever I wanted. Now I was under my brother’s thumb. Just going along with whatever false notions he was sticking in my head. I tried to say ‘no.’ I wanted to say ‘no.’ But I couldn’t. Matt would never mislead me. He would never lie to me and force me somewhere I shouldn’t go. But my head hurt so much. It was like it was being torn in half.

  They picked up the box and dropped it a few times. I could never really tell when it would happen. My ears rung. I couldn’t feel my hands and feet. I thought I was paralyzed. I thought about letting go. Accepting that Matt or Dad or anybody else would never find me and I wouldn’t be a burden on them anymore. Matt isn’t going to be brought to tears looking for me anymore. He can just be a person again instead of a brother or a parent or a servant.

  I don’t know if I was in there for a few days or months, but the next time they opened the box, they dumped me out. They propped me up in the corner because I couldn’t feel my legs. I had tunnel vision by this point, but another guy approached me. It wasn’t Chris. He was taller and had hair. He showed me a half-filled water bottle in one hand and a bunch of needles in the other. He said that I had two options. The water or the needles. It was a trick. I didn’t want to know what the needles were. And maybe the water was just as bad. I didn’t say anything.

  He handed me this folded up piece of paper and demanded I explain it. If I do, I get the water. If I didn’t, I get needles.

  I haven’t let it go of this letter since. I’ve read it over so many times that I can practically recite it by heart. Here it is.

  I will come to Paseos del Valle and turn myself in in exchange for my sons. I want to make sure that they are safe. If I find one sign that they’ve been hurt you’ll never see or hear from me again. Show them this message. If it looks like they haven’t seen it then you will not see me. Tell them that I will meet them soon. I love you, Matt and Luke.

  Carry a torch.

  I was too stunned to even think. I had not heard from him since I was nine, and now I could hear his voice so clearly in my head. The guy asked me what it meant, if there was any coded messages in it or if there was anything more to it. But I didn’t care. I was too happy. Dad is alive. We’re closer than ever to finding him. That’s all I thought about. It’s been so long since I’ve been that happy.

  He took my left hand and stuck the needles under my fingernails. My hand was so numb, I didn’t feel a thing. I was still smiling from the letter. It must’ve made him mad. He tossed the needles into the water and forced me to drink it. I spit it out once I felt the metal hit my lips. They put me back in the box after that. I was soaked. It was cold. The pain started to pulse in my left hand. The feeling had returned. But I realized I was clutching the note between my body and my right arm. I got a hold of it. I haven’t let go of it since.

  The next time they let me out, Matt was there. He was looking up at Chris and the other guy. They were talking, but I couldn’t make out a word of what they were saying. The only word I remember is ‘why.’ That word cuts through everything. And Chris went off. He started screaming at Matt about being naïve. About not understanding the way the world works. He had credit card payments too. He has to pay for the roof over his head and the food on his table. This is the only way he could do that. I guess he hated us for making that job so much harder. It made another knot in my stomach, thinking about how much pain I caused someone else.

  Now I’m back in the van. It’s just Matt and me. I think it’s the same van I was taken away in. There are no seats. No carpets. All of the windows are blacked out. And it smells terrible. There are big barrels right next to us. Matt is desperately trying to keep the lids on them. We’re bouncing around like lottery balls going a hundred miles an hour. I don’t know where we are or where we’re going. Except for the barrels and the smell, it feels empty.

  My mind went back to the places I’ve been these past few years. They’re all empty now. The empty box in a room with nothing in it. An empty bed in the orphanage. A broken-down camper van in the middle of the desert. An empty house in Bay Point. A clear blue night sky above the water. I passed through all these places like a ghost, leaving nothing in my wake. At least I have the memories. I have them locked away. No matter what God or the world tries to do to take them away, I’m keeping them. I still have the letter in my hand. I’m holding onto it tight.

  We finally slow down when we hit traffic. I could see it through the blackened window. Matt and me are huddling next to the wheel well, praying the headaches would go away. He says he’s sorry. They’re taking us back across the border. Arresting us for good. He screwed up again. He overreacted. Stealing turns into smuggling turns into a rescue. He says he would blow up a building just to get me back. And that’s what it looks like. It looks like he would have blown up a building just to break me free.

  I can’t see the driver. There’s this gigantic piece of sheet metal blocking the front seats. I want to tell the driver not to go back. We’re supposed to find Dad. When my head finally clears, I just keep asking ‘When are we going to see Dad? When are we going to see Dad?’ Matt gets up and walks to the other side of the van. I can see him crying again. I don’t want to see him cry. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand to see him hurt so much.

  Dad’s dead, he says. He’s been dead for a long time. About a year or two after he left, some people came by the house and told him and Mom that they officially declared him dead. They didn’t have a body or a certificate or anything, but he was gone. They never told me. All these years, and they never told me.

  That good will drained away again. I felt that animus for them in that moment. I was stuck with my family no matter what. And they just ripped every positive aspect of my life away by that point. Maybe Chris was right. Maybe I’ve been a puppet all this time. My brother has been stringing me along on his leash for so long. To what end, I don’t know. But I was too tired to even fight it. Why bother? I was against the universe in this fight, so what chances did I have?

  I’m not too tired to be sarcastic though. I don’t know how that is. But I point to the note and say he must’ve written this too. Now he’s hugging me. It’s the second tightest he’s ever hugged me. And he starts peppering me with questions. ‘Where did you get this? You’re not making this up? Are you sure?’ I’m positive. Dad is alive. He’s jumping around the van again with tears still pouring down his face. Dad’s alive. Dad’s alive.

  He starts kicking in the rear window until he finally breaks it open. He takes my hand and yanks me around the car. My headache is throbbing again, but I follow him. He’s more excited than I’ve ever seen him. He runs to the cab, opens the door and starts yelling at Chris that he wants to go back. He wants to turn around and go back to Mexico. I don’t know how we’re going to turn around in this traffic jam, but that’s what he wants and he looks desperate to get it. More desperate than I’ve ever seen him.

  Some police officers come over. There’s more yelling. They tell us to stay there. Now Matt is petrified. He’s gone from happy to mad
to terrified in the space of a few seconds. He’s yelling at the officers, but they don’t seem to notice him. It’s so noisy at that point. One of them moves to the back. He wants to see what’s in the barrels. Matt pushes me into the cab, under the dashboard. He jumps on top of me, covering my right ear with his hand and my left ear with his elbow. I remember he says ‘Just keep your head down. Just keep your head down. Just keep your head down.’

  I see white. It’s quiet. My ears are ringing. My headache is as bad as it’s ever been. I think the police officer opened one of the barrels. Matt isn’t on top of me anymore. He’s crumpled on the floor. When the smoke clears for a second, I see blood everywhere. His clothes are torn to shreds. It looks like he’s dead.

  I think of the drumbeat to clear my head. One hit after the other. My first instinct is to get out from under the dashboard. The smoke gets worse. I feel this heat, like fire coming from all sides. I grab Matt by the arm and try to pick him up. His arms and legs are just dangling. It’s like he’s not even there.

  Chris tries to grab me. You wouldn’t even recognize him because his face was so scarred and dirty. He’s stuck on the seatbelt. He reaches out to grab me. I remember he catches fire. His whole arm is engulfed, and all I think is to get away. I hope that he’s okay. I’m not sure if he’s trying to get us out of the van or keep us captive. I’m not sure he survives either way.

  It looks like daytime. There’s this thick yellow haze over everything and a giant fire right next to us. It hurts to breathe. I couldn’t carry Matt over my shoulder much longer. But there’s life. I can hear cars rushing by. I can see the headlights glowing in the fog. I think maybe they can help get us out of here. Maybe they can help us. I see a few other people are wandering around. A woman is crying. She’s covered in blood and wailing at the sky. That pit in my stomach returns. I have to help her too. This is all our fault.

  A car stops in front of us. It looks like a blue sedan. Two people jump out and run to the woman and Matt and me. They push me into the back of their car. Matt is on his back in the back seat. I can see that he’s still breathing. I don’t know how he’s surviving, but I’m so thankful that he is. The woman is sitting next to him. She’s stopped crying somewhat. I’m so thankful that she’s okay too.

  They’re trying to push me into the car. I have one hand on my brother and one hand on the note. And I have another moment of clarity. I can see his missing hand, and there is no turning back. I know we are going to go forward across the border. I know they don’t want to turn around. I don’t want to leave my brother, but I don’t want to give up on finding Dad either. I’m not ready to turn back to my old life. I’m not ready give up my new self and this mission.

  I can feel them pushing me into the car, but I resist. I move out of the way and shut the door and I tell them to go on without me. And I run back. Against the current. I see cars rushing the other way. I can barely breathe. But I’m not ready to leave yet. The job isn’t done.

  Maybe I’m being selfish. We’ve hurt a lot of people. We didn’t mean to. I hate that it happened, and I know it’s not fair that I walked away while others did not. And I shouldn’t have left my brother without knowing he’s okay. But I think about sitting on that ledge at the top of the hill. How tired Matt was after me and keeping a happy face through every setback. I hope he doesn’t have to cry for me anymore. I can take care of myself down here. I know he can take care of himself too.

  I’ve always heard the universe is destined for entropy, but that can’t be the case. Planets form, stars align, and life evolves. It can’t just be random particles colliding with one another. There has to be some symbiosis. There has to be some equilibrium. So maybe this isn’t an eternal break. I love my family. I love my brother. I know we will see each other again soon. But I have to find Dad. That’s my purpose right now, and I’m blessed to have it.

  The fire alarm ceased. The ringing in Michael’s ears quieted. He heard the faint sound of traffic six stories below. He stared at the young man standing on the building’s edge and looking out across the city. He held the wrinkled note closer to his torso. A light sprinkling of rain continued to fall.

  The metal door behind Sool squealed on its hinges. Michael turned and saw a group of nurses emerging from the door. They rushed across the helipad and up to Luke’s side. They ushered him away from the building’s edge and back toward the open door.

  Two guards and six police officers stepped out onto the rooftop. They stormed over to the two investigators, one of them pointing at Michael and shouting. Michael threw his hands up. The officers grabbed Sool’s arms, yanked them behind his back and slapped a pair of metal handcuffs on him. Sool tilted his head back and closed his eyes as the officers restrained him. They did the same with Michael. A sharp pain shot down his lower back and left leg. A few rain drops pelted the investigators as the officers forced them off the roof.

  From the rear seat of a police cruiser, the detective glanced around the parking structure under the central police station. His breathing accelerated. The cruiser stopped in front of the number two door. Officers hauled the two investigators out of the cruiser, through the door and down a long, windowless corridor. Michael saw one officer holding his hearing aid and a packet of cigarillos in one hand. He tossed the items into a trash bin.

  The officers shoved the handcuffed men into an interview room and sat them down on the same side of a rusted table. Michael felt the sharp corners of the chair’s back dig into his forearms. They faced a two-way mirror.

  Michael looked up. Several tiles in the ceiling were missing. A few drops of condensation from the air conditioning trickled onto the floor. The pain in his leg and lower back persisted.

  The officers left the room and slammed the door shut. Michael heard their muffled screams in the hallway. After twenty minutes, the shouting lessened. The two men stayed in their chairs with their hands cuffed behind their backs. Michael closed his eyes and mouthed a psalm to himself.

  “The goodness of the Lord will follow me all the days of my life. And I will dwell in the house of the Lord.” The detective paused. “The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. Even though I wa-”

  “You know, this was fun.” Michael reopened his eyes. Sool was staring straight ahead into the two-way mirror. “I sort of got what I wanted. Not exactly what I wanted to hear, but I got one of ‘em at least. I really wanted him to give it all up. ‘I confess. I did it. Take me in. Give me twenty to life.’ Maybe I expected too much. But man, I’m exhausted. I’m cooked. I can’t do this kind of shit anymore. I can hear ‘em right now. We got one of theirs. They got two of ours. We’ll get one of theirs back. I can see it just keeps going and going and going until we can’t even remember what the hell we were even fighting for in the first place. So I’m done. I’m throwing in the towel. If you get out of this, just tell ‘em don’t bother looking for me. Don’t bother getting me back. Just end it right there.”

  Michael heard the argument erupt in the hallway again. Footsteps emanated from under the door.

  “I don’t know why I’m even telling you this,” Sool continued. “I don’t know if you can even hear me.”

  Michael turned to toward Sool. Their eyes met. Sool cracked a modest grin.

  “There’s a...Clarke family in Framingham, Massachusetts,” Sool said. “Clarke with an ‘e.’ If you can find 'em, tell 'em I love ‘em.”

  Eight uniformed police officers burst into the room. One of the officers brandished a black cloth bag in each hand.

  “Tell ‘em Dan loves 'em.”

  Sool continued to smile as the officer threw the bag over his head. Michael looked up at the officers in terror.

  “No. No. No!” The policeman threw a bag over Michael’s head. The band wrapped tightly around his neck. They grabbed him by the forearms and yanked him out of the chair. Michael writhed and kicked at the tiled floor. The officer lost his grip, and Michael fell to the ground. His jaw smacked against the floor. He felt a large cut open on his lip. His
glasses hung off his ear. The officers grabbed his arms again and carried him toward the exit.

  Michael saw the tiles pass under his feet through the thin black cloth. He gasped for air. The band dug into his throat. Tears welled up in his eyes. A pain radiated through his back. He heard the metal door creak open and saw the fluorescent lights brighten the concrete floor beneath him.

  The officers released his arms. The detective fell face first on the rear bench of a car. The engine roared, and the vehicle pulled forward.

  A hand fell on Michael’s back.

  “Detective. Detective, it’s okay.”

  “Who,” he choked out.

  “It’s Jen. You’re okay.”

  “Where am I?”

  “It’s cool,” a masculine voice said. Michael bounced around on the rear of the vehicle as it swerved at high speed.

  “Who is that? Who are you?”

  “It’s Juan. Just relax. You’re safe.”

  “Where’s Guy?”

  “We could only trade for one of you,” Jen said. “It was an exchange. We decided to go with you.” Michael started writhing and kicking at the door panel behind him. The metal handcuffs behind his back rattled.

  “Get these off me.”

  “Just keep your head down, detective.”

  “Get these fucking things off me!”

  “Okay.”

  Michael felt a hand grip his wrist and fit a key into one of the restraints. The right handcuff unlocked. Michael ripped his arms apart and sat up on the rear seat. He tore the bag off of his head, ripped off his glasses and howled. He dug the heels of each hand deep into his eyes to abet the tears pouring down his face. Blood seeped from the cut in his lip. One of the handcuffs dangled off of his left wrist.