Dignity - a novel - 17. Chapter 17: Running

Chapter 17: Running

I hear a voice from far away. It sounds familiar, but comes at me as if through a pitcher of syrup. "Sean!"

I open my eyes.

"Sean, are you ok?" Dau asks me. There is concern on his face.

I wake myself up more fully. The light is bright, and I shield my eyes. "What time is it?"

"It's about 3 PM. Linc had to go out on a date, but he wanted me to look in on you. He's really worried about you, you know."

"He did tell you…"

"Tell me, what?"

"Tell you…that I really have to pee?"

"Man, you're a card. Well, get up and pee! Need anything else?"

"No, not really."

Dau presses the back of his hand on my neck. "You are still burning up. Get a glass of ice water before you come back, ok?"

"Yeah, good idea." I offer my roomie a half-smile.

He makes to leave, but lingers at the door. "If you need anything, I'm gonna be in the living room with the rest of the guys. Ok?"

"Yep, and Dau…" I want to thank him for his friendship in this house, in case I don’t have another chance before I go, but it will sound too odd. "Dau, you're a great roommate. You don’t mind if I say I love you, do you?"

His face goes slack a moment, then brightens into a grin. "You're one in a million, Sean. Who wouldn't love you in return, know what I mean?" He taps the doorframe, and departs.

I sit up in bed and think I should check my phone, but I really have to pee. I fling back the covers, and I immediately start to shiver. I pull on some socks, grab a long sleeve shirt and stand. I don’t bother with pants; my boxers are good enough to walk around the house.

Wo. I am more than a little dizzy. My hands go out to steady me, but I think how thirsty I am.

In the main room, the TV is on, and loud. A couple of guys sit on the sofa and focus on their phones. The rest, including Dau and Damien, are at the foosball table, where there is a raucous game in progress. There is a rowdy smack of plastic soccer man on the ball, and then a chorus of "Oh yeah!" goes up.

˚˚˚˚˚

OMG – pissin' in the john feels so good, I actually have to close my eyes.

For some reason an image of Lyle's warm steel eyes flashes on the inside of my lids. I should give him a call, so I can return the hundred bucks I own him. Lord knows I needed it then, and I have more than enough money to return it to him now. In fact, I could pay him back a hundred times with what I've earned in the Elite house.

Phew! – I think I'll text him for his address as soon as I get back to bed. There's no time to waste.

As for Dawn, I'll have to get one of those large-size mailer boxes from the post office. I know she won't want it, but once I secretly stuff half my cash into Lincoln gym bag for him to find later, I will mail her the rest. She will be able to use it, and I hope it's a small way that I can 'thank her.' I know I have let her down, but she has been the world to me, my rock when I was nothing but sea.

˚˚˚˚˚

I leave the bathroom much relieved, but a little more dizzy than before, maybe because I had to piss like a horse, LOL.

In the kitchen there is a stack of shrunk-wrapped beverages between the refrigerator and the trashcans. I go and loosen a Gatorade…then…stop.

I could swear I just heard my name, not my 'Sean Holmes' name but the other one, my real name.

With the drink in hand, I wander around the corner. From behind the sofa, I slowly drift to stand at a point where I can clearly see the TV screen.

My picture is on it.

Below it is a running 'news' banner with words like '1.5 Million Dollar Reward,' 'Leukemia Kid,' 'Missing for Months.'

A woman with an overcoat and a microphone is standing in front of my house. She says, "…So if you see Jack Shaw in your neighborhood, please contact the authorities immediately…"

I glance at the two guys sitting on the couch. They are still into their phones, but for how long?

As calmly as I can, I go into Dau's room, slip on my jeans, and a jacket, then sit to lace up my sneakers.

Just as I open the window, I hear Damien's voice from the other room.

"Hey, look! It's that little prick, and he's on TV!"

I climb out and hold onto my Gatorade.

It is only a few feet to the ground and I jump, but land painfully on my knees. I scramble up and into an instant run.

I do not look back.

˚˚˚˚˚

It's 5 PM, and that little shit Jack hasn’t replied to any of my texts in 24 hours! He has me worried.

I'm fatigued from the cross-country flight this morning, but I've got to find him. Jack's brother and sister did not go to the FBI after I nearly, or rather 95%, confessed that I knew where Jack was. I had time to think about that on the six-hour-long flight sitting next to Mrs. Shaw. And I debated if I should tell her what Hamish and Christie said to me. They acted like shits to me in my family room; they acted like they cared about their mom; they acted like Jack was a selfish weasel, so then how could I tell the mother of the three of them that her youngest child may be selfish, but that her two eldest brats are self-conceited fakes.

In the end, I could not reveal anything. Why? – because, if his siblings cared about Jack at all, they would have snitched on me. They did not, so ipso facto, they do not give a rat's ass about Jack. But, I do.

That's why I used my maps app to track down this house where Jack told me he lives with Linc, but as I stride up the walkway, my pace falters.

Fuck. He'll hate me. He'll say he's disappointed in me and that I'm just a stupid sell-out, and worst of all, he may not come with me. I try not to think of his mom, alone and pacing in her hotel room. She's on pins and needles I'm sure, as she waits patiently for my call.

My hand is now on the doorknob, so I take a deep breath and go in.

Shouting meets me right away. A bunch of guys are standing around a large living space; the TV is blaring. One tall guy with short dark hair is speaking very aggressively to an Asian boy.

I hear words like 'gone!,' 'when?,' 'how?'

The aggressive guy spots me. He makes an angry face and storms up to my grill. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Where's Sean!"

"What's it to you? And don’t you mean 'Where's Jack!'"

I glance around. Which one is Linc..? I have no idea. The Asian guy and another one come over to where this tall asshole is yelling at me.

I tell the jerky one, "I'm his friend. Where is he?"

Mr. Asshole stands akimbo, and spits out, "That little chicken-shit ran, and took my reward money with him!"

At the same instant, the guy standing next to the Asian, asks quietly into my ear: "Are you Dawn?"

I nod, and see the blue-green eyes that Jack said I would recognize anywhere.

"I'm Lincoln, Did Jack mention…"

"Fuck yeah, he did. So, he's gone?"

"Let's go into his room."

Linc takes my arm and leads me towards a door directly off of this living space.

The other guys standing around become agitated, saying stuff like 'Hey, who’s that!,' 'Where'd Sean go – we want the reward!'

The asshole sounds off again, "That little weasel better – "

Lincoln interrupts him with force. "Shut the fuck up, Damien! You're not helping!"

As we get to the door, the Asian guy lets us in, then closes the door behind us and stands guard. He and Damien continue to exchange heated words in the living room, but I feel better to be away from the chaos out there.

Linc paces around the room in a barely controlled panic; his hand keeps going to his forehead.

"When did he leave?" I ask.

"Dunno. This afternoon; not long ago."

"But where…"

"He's sick." Lincoln stops pacing. His hands drop to his sides. "He's real bad, Dawn. Fuck! He only told me last night."

"So, you do know?"

It looks like Linc is about to drop to his knees. "He's bad, Dawn. We have to find him."

I start looking around the room: posters, TV and video games, clothes.

"Are any of these clothes his?"

"Yeah, these." Lincoln makes a vague gesture.

"He didn’t take anything?"

"Does not look like it."

"What about his phone?"

"I don’t know."

The two of us make a scramble. We tear through his pile of laundry, then Linc opens Jack's bag, and makes a sour face as he finds nothing in it. In an instant, that scowl lifts into a grin of passionate relief.

He takes a running dive and slides halfway across the room on his knees. His arm is outreaching to the bedside table. He holds up Jack's phone like a treasure.

"Oh, thank God," Linc says. "But how do we find him?"

"Clues. We look for clues."

We sit on the bed, and I find the text option. I scroll through them. There are 6 unanswered messages from me today. 'Oh shit,' I think. 'Did he run from me?'

"Um, did Jack say I was coming?"

That question astounds Linc. "No. Did he know?"

"I…I don’t see how, but what did he run from?"

"That asshole Damien, that's who. Dau – the Asian guy – said they saw Jack on TV with reward money or some such shit. When they came in here, Jack was gone."

"Ok," I say. "What are these other numbers?"

Linc pulls the screen to him a bit. "That one's mine; the other is Dau's, and the third one is from our boss."

"No other ones you don’t recognize?"

"No. They are all from us, or from you. What else is on there?"

I find the photo option.

The oldest one is of him and me at the Cincinnati bus station. He has his arm around me; he smiles, but I look sick to my stomach.

The second one is on the bus. It is nighttime, and a handsome guy sleeps against the window. I can see a blanket draped over his chest and shoulders.

The next is an early morning shot of Jack and the same handsome guy, only now they are standing on some sort of parking lot, and guy has a guitar case slug over his shoulder.

"Who's that?" Lincoln asks.

"That, I think, is the guy he met on the bus. He's from Nashville."

"Too far. Jack could never make it there."

Linc is right.

The next pic is a shot of a grocery store. A dude in a tight black t-shirt and thick a gold chain and pendant is standing and hugging the shoulders of an older lady.

"Looks like that guy's mom," Lincoln observes.

"Do you know where it is?"

"Nope."

There follow several pix of Jack with some guys and girls in an amusement park. One shot is of Jack between a Latin guy and a pretty girl with long hair.

"Do you know where that is?"

Linc takes the phone, and advances to the next shot. This is a group shot of Jack with four others surrounding a mascot in costume – a little yellow Minion.

Lincoln says confidently, "That's inside Universal Studios."

"Would he go there, now?"

"Maybe. I don’t know."

The next pic is a lonely shot. Jack is standing in some low-rent motel room. The light is dim and coming from the side, where the curtains are drawn closed. Jack is only in boxers, and making a selfie in the mirror. On the bed behind him is a sleeping older man.

After that, the following one is of a happy Jack with the Asian from the other side of the door. It looks like it was taken in this room.

"That's Dau," Linc says.

The next pic is a nighttime shot. Lincoln and Jack lean on a rooftop skylight. The boys are sharing earphones.

"Um…" Lincoln starts.

"It's ok. He loves you, you know. He really does."

Linc blushes.

The following is a selfie of Jack and Lincoln kissing. They are sitting on the floor, and a white wall of wood rises behind them.

I scroll to the next. The two boys are on some sort of ride, for the edge of a twisty brass pole is in view. Jack holds onto this pole, and both young men look to be dying from fun, so big are their smiles.

Linc sits as upright as if he were at Sunday school, and sighs. There is suddenly a total lack of any trait of the nervous panic he has only shown me since being in this room. He calmly puts the phone into my hand, and smiles confidently.

"I think I know where he is."

˚˚˚˚˚

Linc shoved all of Jack's belongings into the kid's duffel bag, and now we pause before opening the door.

"You ready?" he asks.

I purse my lips and nod.

We open the door and Dau is still there, guarding our privacy with folded arms, but as soon as Damien sees us, he comes charging with a loud voice.

"You bring him back here, so we can get the reward money for turning him in."

"He's not a criminal!" I shout.

Linc puts up his arm to keep me quiet. He shouts, "Fuck you, Damien. I always thought you were better than people said, but maybe I had you wrong all along. This is not a game, or some movie, or book. Someone's life is at stake."

Linc guides me to the front door, but Damien roughly grabs my arm.

"You get me, little girl? You bring him back here."

Lincoln rips Damien's hand off of my arm, and spins him around.

He spits at Damien: "What the fuck is wrong with you!"

I see Dau go behind the jock and make a raised eyebrow gesture that only me and Linc can see.

Dau gets on all fours, right behind Damien.

Damien pulls back a punch, but Linc blocks it. Instead of his nose taking a blow, Lincoln's fist crashes full in Damien's face, and the jock falls over backwards, hard. He lands like a sack of potatoes.

As Damien is moaning on the floor, Dau and a couple of other guys pile on top of him.

"Go!" Dau tells us. "Go get him some help."

Linc begins to jog and latches onto me. As we run for the front door, I think to myself, 'Wo. I can see why Jack loves this guy."