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The entrance at the back opened. A short, round woman came through and held the door, followed by an older man with a cane. It took me a second to see that it was John Traynor with Janet. My Janet. The same Janet that practically raised me while my parents were busy running the funeral home. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse.
“Alex,” the old man said. His voice was strong and carried. “What the hell is going on?”
“What are you doing here, Father? You should be napping. And where’s your wheelchair?”
Janet helped the old man reach a section of boxes. They were about twenty feet to my left, and Alex was twenty to my right. I stepped back.
“Janet just ended her volunteer shift, and I wanted to stay up for her. And how could we not notice that half the city of Sandusky is headed this way, led by the feds. And now I see this?”
“Our best men are guarding the entrances,” Alex said. “Nothing will happen. No one will find their way down here. This is all part of the plan.”
“You are assuming again, Alex. We live in a world of fact. And the facts are that whatever this little pet project you have here is distracting you from the truth.”
Part of me wanted to let this play out to see what would happen, but Robby was in real trouble. The blood was beginning to pool, and he was losing time. I peeked back up at Jack. No movement. So I decided to take a risk.
I blurted out, “Alex, we could have been together if it wasn’t for him.”
Alex turned his head. “What did you say?”
“I liked you in high school as well. We could have been together.” I pointed at Alex’s father. “But he took it all away from us.”
“I don’t believe you,” Alex said. “I don’t believe you.”
“Is that what this is?” the old man asked. “Some kind of sick homo fantasy.”
“I knew it,” Janet said. “He was never cured of his sickness,” she whispered to the old man, but both Alex and I could hear her.
“Are you having sex with this unclean piece of trash?” the old man asked. “Have you lost your way again, Alex?”
Alex’s eyes started to tear up. His arms hung straight to the ground. I could see his hands starting to tremble. I had seen him like this a few times in high school, but every time I asked him about it, he snapped out of it and changed the subject.
“Listen, Alex,” I said. “You are not unclean. There is nothing wrong with you. Being gay is not wrong. Your father is trying to take all that away from us.”
“Oh my God,” Janet said. “I should have known Abe’s boy was like this when he started hanging around with the black boy. How did we even think for a second that he could be useful? We could have taken care of this problem days ago.”
I was almost caught off guard listening to this from the wonderful woman I grew up knowing. I quickly cut her off.
I turned toward Alex. “Your father shocked you and made you hurt all over because he has the problem. He’s the one that’s unclean. He’s been lying to you your entire life.”
There was something coming from Janet. Almost like a huffing and puffing. I turned to look at her. Her face was the color of an apple. Then she said, “Are you going to do something about him, Alex, or do I need to teach you both a lesson? This is such a disappointment. Alex...you are such a disappointment.”
She was already falling backward before I even heard the popping sound. The bullet pierced the center of Janet’s forehead, traveled through her skull, and lodged itself into the back wall of the room. There was blood everywhere. I looked back at Alex. The gun was shaking in his hand. He was staring at the ground.
The old man screamed out. “Oh my God. My love. My love.” He dropped down beside her and went to caress her face, but there was little left. He held her hand tight in both of his and began to wail. Then he wiped his eyes with his forearm and tried to compose himself. He picked up his cane off the floor and pushed himself upright.
I looked back at Alex. The gun was now pointed toward the floor. He’d stopped trembling, but had begun mumbling something over and over. I finally made it out. “You are not my mother. You are not my mother. You are not my mother.” His chanting was the only sound in the room.
John Traynor stomped his foot. “Boy, you have sinned. You must repent and do penance. Now.” The old man pointed to the back door. “Now leave the gun, go to the special room, and wait for me. I’ll clean up this mess you started, and I’ll be back for you shortly.”
I hadn’t foreseen this. If Alex left John Traynor to clean up this mess, the old man would waste no time and kill us all. I had no leverage with the older Traynor. At the moment, I could only think of one thing.
“Alex, please let me take the popsicles down to them. They’re severely dehydrated. You’re still in control, and I have no weapon. Please let me do this.”
I wasn’t sure if he heard me. Alex just stood staring at Janet’s dead body. “Father, Janet served her purpose. She wasn’t needed anymore. Can’t you see that?” Alex was talking to the old man but wasn’t. He seemed to be talking through him.
Then he snapped out of whatever trance he was in. He turned his head my way. “Oh, the popsicles, did you say, William? As a child, my favorite thing in the world to eat was popsicles. Couldn’t get enough of them.”
With his right hand still clutching the gun, he took the top off the six-pack and seemed to read the cover. “Chocolate triumph,” he said. “What a wonderful flavor and a fitting name for the best of all flavors. I can’t believe they haven’t melted entirely. It’s a bit toasty down here, isn’t it?”
I didn’t answer.
He tore the multicolor wrapper from one of the popsicles, grabbed the stick, and brought the popsicle close to his lips. It had already started melting down his hand.
He turned his left hand to the side and took a bite of the popsicle like he was eating ribs. “Such an odd version of chocolate,” he said. He took another bite, trying to figure out the taste. His face quickly turned red. His hands convulsed. He dropped the popsicle and the gun to the ground and tried to grab his throat with his hands. Then he collapsed, heaving in short breaths.
I ran over to him. He was on his stomach convulsing. I felt for his two back pockets. Nothing inside. I reached around to feel his front pockets and found what I was looking for—a small black container. I unzipped it to expose the epinephrine injector that looked like a large Magic Marker. I removed the black tip, exposing the needle, and jammed it into the back of Alex’s neck.
I pulled back the injector from his neck and breathed a sigh of relief. I looked over at Sam. I could see her eyes. She tilted her head. The warning was too late.
I was knocked forward. Something hit the back of my head. Almost in slow motion I could see the shards of splintered wood falling past me to the ground. It had to be the old man’s cane. I fell on top of Alex. I tried to move my arms. Nothing happened. I couldn’t feel my legs.
I was beginning to lose consciousness. I looked up to find Sam but couldn’t see her. I couldn’t hang on. Please hold on.
The last thing going through my mind, before I blacked out, was the sound of a rifle shot.