The mid-afternoon sun blazes across the clear, powdery blue skies, beaming through the sheer drapes, making the small, cluttered house feel like an oven. Dust particles float through the humid air. Worn furniture crowds the small place; old newspapers, along with an assortment of wrappers, are scattered across the coffee table.
Ty and Timmy are both lost in their spiraling thoughts, relentlessly pacing across the carpeted rug, trying to figure out what their next steps will be. There's a thick tension growing between the two of them, constructed by fear and uncertainty. Occasionally the two cross paths, exchange a troublesome look, shake their heads, and then resume their pacing.
Jimmy is on the phone jabbering away. It's the same place he's been for well over two hours. He plops down in a chair near exhaustion. He's been trying to round up a few men for Timmy's and Ty's escapade, but from what the boys are hearing from their side of things, it doesn't sound good. Jimmy glances up and shakes his head. In a low, stern voice, he says, "I know but…" A disappointed look edges across his face. "Yes, I understand, but if we don't..." The call disconnects.
Disappointment settles across his face. Hanging up the phone, he exhales so loud that it sounds like a balloon deflating. Stopping, the boys glance his way. Jimmy turns to them and says, "I have three that are willing to help you out." Working the kink out of his neck, he continues. "The rest are too scared about what Bambin's men will do."
Timmy's face turns a crimson color. With bitterness and fury dripping from his voice, he says, "Retaliate and end up just like us, or dead, you mean?" He clenches and unclenches his fist, hoping to work off some rage. "My dad took the fall for all of them, and this is how they repay him." The thought angers him more.
Ty looks over at his cousin, rolls his eyes, and, with a shake of his head, then mutters, "Three is better than none, Timmy." Hoping he sounds more confident than he feels.
"I suppose." Tightening his jaw, Timmy folds his arms across his chest. "So when do they want to meet?"
Still rattled from the recent conversations with his men, Jimmy plops back down in his chair. "The guys will be at your dad's old haunt off of Church Street in an hour."
Ty nods and says, "I've heard my dad talk about the place."
A shadow flickers across Jimmy's face as he remembers that frightful day. How he thought his best friend was either dying or dead in the woods somewhere. He then recalls what all transpired in the cave. A cold chill runs up his spine, despite the house's high temperature. He shivers and says, "It's where the police made their bust." Where Tommy nearly lost his life, he thinks, as the day's events replay in his mind.
The house suddenly plunges into total darkness, as if someone had flipped off the light switch. Glass shatters all around them, quickly followed by the front and back doors slamming against the adjacent wall. The sudden calamity frightened and disoriented the three of them.
Heavy boots thunder as large, burly men in army-issued combat uniforms storm inside.
"This way, boys," Jimmy says, darting to the back of the house.
Gunfire erupts all around them as the three sprint across the room. Shoving a heavy metal barrier in place, Jimmy engages the deadbolt, turns, and explains as he tries to catch his breath. "I had this installed back when it all went down with your dad."
Bullets thud against the metal door, each rattling the barrier's sturdy frame. "Go," Jimmy instructs, pushing them towards a second metal door.
Compared to the first larger space, this looks to be more of a walk-through than an actual room. With a little maneuvering they manage to squeeze in.
The three hear clomping in the space they'd just escaped.
With fear in his eyes, Ty takes a gulp of courage, points to the door, then asks, "How long will this one hold?"
"Not long, I'm afraid." Locking the hatch, Jimmy turns; with a quick gesture of his arms, he says, "This way."
Quickly making his way across the room, he pushes on an old, empty bookshelf. Small dust particles float through the warm, stale air. A high-pitched whine fills the room, echoing off the empty walls that surround them. The paneled wall behind the old case slides slowly to the side. Jimmy nervously shifts his weight. "Come on, come on, come on," he thinks, glancing towards the outer door. Heavy footsteps continue to tromp around the first space they'd left.
After what seemed like forever, the thin wooden barrier opens just enough for them to squeeze through. "In there," Jimmy urges. Grabbing the boy's arms, Jimmy pushes them towards the small gap. "Hurry."
Bullets ping off the outer door.
Timmy steps inside the cold, damp enclosure and suddenly feels claustrophobic. He tries to shake off the feeling, but it won't go away. Wrapping his arms around himself, he takes a few deep breaths.
Ty quickly follows his friend inside. Trailing a mere second behind them, Jimmy squeezes his way in. He reaches over and pushes a small, black button embedded in the inner wall.
The wall slides back into place with a hiss. A metallic scrapping noise echoes through the small enclosure. A thick, heavy wall glides in front of the first, securing them in.
Grabbing an industrial-sized chain, Jimmy loops it through the outer wall's bracket, then secures it to a large metal hook dangling above him. Grabbing a couple of flashlights from the crate of supplies, he hands one over to Timmy. With a heavy sigh of relief, he says, "We should be safe now."
Fear flickers in Ty's eyes as he studies the barrier in front of him. "We should be safe?" Ty asks, each word dripping with doubt.
***
Crossing the Arkansas State line a little after five the following day, Tommy checks into the first motel he sees. He didn't want to stop and wouldn't have if he hadn't almost fallen asleep numerous times during his last few minutes on the road. A couple of hours is all I need, he thinks, stepping into the dated motel room. Not bothering to adjust the curtains or change his clothes, he wearily falls to the bed. His shoes plop onto the floor.
His heavy eyelids close, and his body starts to relax. "Much better," he sighs.
Tommy starts to doze off when horrific thoughts pop into his head. Each image is worse than the last. He tries to replace them with happy family time, but the horrid images are unrelenting, clawing back into his mind every time.
Frustrated, Tommy slams his hands down on the mattress. "I can fall asleep at the wheel, but not here." He tries repositioning himself on his right side, then his left, but neither one seems to help.
More frustrated than ever and wide awake, he slams both hands down again. "I might as well keep going," he says into the dusty unknown.