Page 27 of Fury

“How did it happen? Tell me the truth.”

“Heart attack. He was real upset about you—”

“Chaz, come on. It was just him and Reich here late at night?”

“Yeah.”

“You gonna believe Reich?”

Chaz shifted his weight in the creaky wooden chair. “You need to watch what you say, Kid. Yeah, they’d been arguing. Your dad wasn’t happy with the way negotiations were going with the Smoking Guns to get you free. He wanted definitive blow out, full scale invasion and retrieval of you. Cooper and Reich, they thought it was better—”

“To sacrifice me?”

“They thought it was wiser if we played it cool, see how far the Guns would take it.” He glanced at my bandaged hands. “They took it far all right. Thing was, we really didn’t think they’d kill you, you know?”

“And what did you think?”

“I wanted to get you out first thing, but all eyes were on us, Kid. They were gonna play with us, play with you, get their licks in, make their point, and in the end give it up. Give you up. Coop thought it was best to wait it out, give them the opportunity to shoot themselves in the foot.”

I was collateral damage. A calculated expense in the throes of political maneuvers and battle strategies.

My dad had argued with Reich over how negotiations were going or not going with the Smoking Guns over my release. Had Reich killed him or just got him angry enough to set off a heart attack? Dad had been denying his bad health for a while. Blood pressure, cholesterol, you name it, he had it. Whatever happened that night, my father had stood up for what was right. For me.

“Hey, Fuse fixed your Panhead before he—” Chaz’s voice brought my attention back to my gloomy room, the stench of french fries and burger grease still hanging in the air.

“He did?”

“Yeah. It’s waiting on you.”

At least there was that, my bike, the one he’d help me choose, the one he’d shown me how to ride, keep clean, keep in tune. My sore eyes fell on his urn.

Chaz let out a huff of air. “You gonna get outta this bed and outta this room or what?”

“I will. I have to.” I’d also have to learn how to hold a fork, use a pen again, and grip my handlebars. And I would.

“We gotta just put this shit behind us,” muttered Chaz. “We gotta move on from this. The FBI and the ATF are breathing down our necks just waiting for us to blow, to get crazy. We’ve got too much at stake right now, and business has been real tight for too long. We got to play it cool for a while, gain some ground back.”

He crushed his empty beer can and stuffed the oily food wrappers in the take out bag. This was him making sure that I didn’t get crazy and towed the party line. Laying down the law for me, while expressing empathy for my situation.

Real kind of him.

He lit the cigarette he had stashed behind his ear and leaned back in the chair once more. He needed to confirm that I was on board with the plan, that I wouldn’t make trouble for Reich.

Chaz let out a short, loud laugh. “The pain getting any better? We got plenty of shit for that.”

Med’s frenzied crystal fog-filled eyes flashed before me, and I winced.

“Nah, I’m good. Don’t need anything,” I lied.

After Chaz left, taking hisfast food debris and pointed words with him, I leaned over and opened the top desk drawer and got out my compass. The sight of it within my bandaged mutilated hand made my breath catch in my throat and burn there. This was my new reality.

What would my grandad say if he could see me? Dad? My eyes filled with water, and I wiped at them with my other hand. I carefully propped the compass up on the dresser and dropped back against the mattress, staring at the antique. I didn’t know what was ahead for me, but I would handle it, just like my grandad and my dad, head on.

The nightmares would be back again tonight, just like every night. Those hands holding me down. Holding me down while the cuts blazed into me. But at least this time, when I did wake up, I’d have the compass in front of me, to remind me that I was made of sterner stuff, that I too was a survivor. I would probably face even greater hells in time, but for now, for right now, I could handle this, because I had good, strong men behind me who had handled just as much crazy as any man.

I wiped the cold sweat from my face and throat. I gulped in air. No more feeling helpless, no more feeling powerless, weak, vulnerable. Exposed. I would obliterate all that shit, commanding a force from within me any way I could. I had choices. I could change course.

North. South. East. West.

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