Page 1 of Sam to the Rescue
Chapter 1
Sebastian Sutcliff
Overhead, the sun shines brightly in a cloudless sky over Long Island. With a slight ocean breeze and the temperature in the high seventies, it’s a perfect spring day for a political rally and yet, my skin crawls. Even if I can’t see it yet, something is not right.
Cheers for the congresswoman sound from a bleacher full of fans. Earlier, I combed the empty school and the surrounding property but found no signs of a threat. Now, my spidey senses tingle as I unzip my leather jacket for quicker access to my weapon.
Deena Desmond, a pretty brunette in her late thirties, leans into the microphone, speaking to about a dozen late-arriving protestors. “Iwillmake sure your concerns are heard in Washington.”
Fuck. Where is he? Fingers itching, eyes scanning the crowd, I slide my hand over my pistol’s grip and step behind my client as she touts her party’s view on gun control. She has no idea an evil menace lurks close by.
Row by row, I search for the cause of my unease. There’s a suburban couple, a teenager, and… What’s this? An Afghan woman, covered head to toe in turquoise, carries a baby wrapped in heavy blankets. As she inches toward the podium, I’m reminded of another place, another time, the origin of all my nightmares.
Suddenly, with a deafening roar, all available oxygen vanishes from the atmosphere.
Without a doubt, what I’m about to experience isn’t real, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t escape. Like always, I’m transported to the past. My pal Lucky drives along the hardened dirt road and when a tribal woman steps in front of the jeep, he slams on the brakes. From my seat behind him, I tap on his shoulder and shout,go-go-gobut it’s too damn late. The next thing I know, the whole fucking world explodes and I’m flat on my back, half-buried in sand, staring up at a spinning tire.
“A gun!” A panicked male voice jolts me into the present, and at the flash of a metal barrel, I spring across the raised platform.
A shot fires, a bullet whizzes by my ears, and swiveling in midair, I grab the congresswoman by the shoulders. As I land on my back and roll on top of her, searing pain bellows from my lower right rib cage.
“You good?” Inhaling sharply, I protect her body with mine.
“Yes. Go. He’s getting away.” The politician pushes me off and points to a young, bald man running toward the parking lot.
What the fuck?I long-jump off the stage, sprint toward the gunman, and dive as if it’s the world series and he’s home plate. I break his wrist when he won’t let go of his weapon. Then, even though he doesn’t deserve my kindness, I zip tie his elbows behind his back as the town cops arrive.
A few slap me on my back, a few call me a hero, but I know better. I fucked up big time and lost my focus. If it weren’t for the shouting man, things could’ve ended up a whole lot worse.
Guilt beats me down as I follow their cruisers to the police station and for the first time I can remember, I’m in no mood to ramble. After a painfully short interrogation, I exit the vacant room and call my best friend, Lochlan James. Other than my wife, he’s the only one who knows I still struggle with bouts of PTSD.
“If I hadn’t had a damn episode, I would’ve seen the gun a hell of a lot sooner.” Phone to my ear, I walk under the florescent lights toward the parking lot.
“Was the woman, real or did you imagine her?” Having had similar episodes, my pal understands my affliction.
Even so, his question makes my fists clench. “Fuck if I know. Hold on a sec.”
At the end of the long hall, I stop at a windowed door. Outside, TV vans topped with antennas, line the curb. My boss, Slate, usually sends a lawyer to speak some fancy words for the masses but today, because I wasn’t arrested, I’m on my own.
Not ready to talk to reporters, I trot back the way I came and unmute my phone. “Icantell you this. To me, the woman was flesh and blood but here’s where it gets weird. From the blue of her burqa to the weave of the blankets she carried, she was a blast from the past, if you get my meaning.” I don’t mention it was too damn warm to wrap an infant in heavy wool because for sure, he’d think I was losing my marbles.
“Bugger… If only I’d noticed her that day.” At his weary sigh, my chest tightens.
“No one blames you, pal.”
“I do, mate.” He and I have talked about the-day-that-should-not-be-mentioned many times but no one, not even his psychiatrist, can convince him he was not at fault. Only superman with his x-ray vision could’ve known the woman in the road carried a bomb.
“Our intel was off. Those higher up the food chain should’ve known.” My steps return me to the bullpen where I wave forward a young uniformed rookie. “Is there another way out of here?”
As the blond nods, rises, and escorts me to the parking lot, my pal changes the subject. “So, yah wankah, what’re you gonna do about the fookin’ apparition?”
“Call Ghost Busters?” My weak attempt at humor is received with momentary silence which I use to jump in my SUV and turn on the ignition.
Bluetooth connects and his voice switches to my car’s front speakers. “You do realize Jack Taylor’s wife is a shrink.”
Wasn’t I the one who recommended her to him?“Hold that thought.” After creeping to the end the driveway, I roll down my window and wink at a beautiful newsperson pointing a microphone in my face.
“Sorry darlin’. The police told me I can’t say a word. You wouldn’t want to get me in trouble now, would you?”