I Maximus Page 2

  “Are you kidding me,” one of the other young men said. “What the hell are you doing? You freakin' killed him!”

  “Get in the car,” the driver said. “Now.”

  They jumped back inside and the driver mashed the pedal, speeding off into the night. Everything got quiet again. The red vapor was gone. His breathing slowed into labored gurgles, like a broken vacuum. There he was in darkness, alone, delirious from the pain, yet strangely happy for the silence.

  3

  A kaleidoscope of colors appeared in the sky above him. Swirls of red, shapeless, mixed with green. The stars were out. He couldn't find the Big Dipper. It's there, keep looking. Don't think of the gunshot. Don't think of the alleyway.

  Three of them. One of me.

  Nothing stirred in that parking lot nor in the surrounding forest. Somewhere an engine, maybe a semi-truck, miles away. Long echoes of civilization's hum carried on the cold air. Maximus laid on the asphalt, concentrating on his heartbeat. Barely able to understand how he hadn't passed out as of yet, or worse, how much time he had before it was all over. Surely, he'd bleed out. The cold was on him, in him.

  How long has it been? Time had grown as formless as those swirls above. He tried to lift his arm to look at his watch. Impossible. The pain. It was beyond ignoring. A liquid breath sunk into his chest and he coughed. Misting clouds of blood sprayed upward.

  Get onto your side.

  Maximus spit a thick gob of darkness from the back of his mouth. The copper taste. The warmth running along his lower lip. He coughed again and this time the blood and the spit was thinner.

  Am I going numb or is the pain dying down?

  Shock. That was his explanation. He'd panic if he weren't so delirious. Am I delirious? My thoughts seem clear enough. Shock, he remembered, can be as fatal as the injury itself. He told himself to remain calm. The thing they teach you in First Aid classes. Why am I able to recall that at a time like this?

  He touched the wound in his chest again. Delicately he ran his index and middle fingers around the jagged fleshy hole. He could feel the lightness of his own touch, the warmth of his flesh.

  Maybe I'm not numb after all.

  One way to check.

  Drawing in a long breath, he grit his teeth, braced for the pain. He pushed his finger inside the bullet wound, but he was startled as the hole presented more as a dent, and the pain didn't intensify as he pushed on it. A smooth divot just inside the wound. Shallow.

  Strange, he thought, his fingers didn't feel as wet. How could there be less blood?

  In the dark, Maximus squinted trying to force his eyes into seeing how much blood there was on his hand. The pain grew milder still. Was this part of what came with the aftermath of the lost time? The unbearable throbbing gave way to a dull ache. The flicker of optimism lit in the back of his mind. I might make it after all.

  The growl of a truck's engine startled him. Maximus tilted his head back, and saw a pair of headlights shine off the wet pavement. The vehicle slowed and turned left into the train platform's parking lot. It could be them, coming back to finish the job, he thought. This is a pick-up truck though. He could tell that much by the height of the lights. Still, he knew he was vulnerable. But the thought occurred to him, what are they going to take? His book? A black debit card for which they had no code? Adrenaline came back. He coughed a light mist. Spit whatever little was left in his mouth. The vehicle drove straight toward him. By now whoever was driving would've seen him. He struggled to his knees, amazed he could get that far. Then he pushed himself up onto his feet, staggered a little and caught himself, taking a knee once more. It's useless, he thought. They've got me.

  The truck stopped right in front of him. Headlights blazing in his face. The driver door creaked. Maximus held a hand over his forehead trying to shield his eyes. A dark silhouette jumped out of the vehicle. Another light, a flashlight beam, popped on. The figure walked enough in front of the headlights Maximus could see brown pants with a light stripe, a brown jacket, and a trooper hat. A cop. Maximus didn't know how to feel about it.

  “You alright?” The officer said. He ran his flashlight down the fallen man's chest, noticing the blood on his chin and soaked through in a small patch on his shirt.

  Maximus tried to stand. The officer held out his hand to stop him.

  “Whoa,” the man said, “easy there. Just take it easy. What's your name, fella?”

  “I'm fine,” Maximus said, and strangely enough he felt fine. The pain had mostly subsided, and the place where the bullet wound had been felt more like a bruise. “Name's Maximus...Hart.”

  “You been in a fight or something, Maximus?”

  “You just happened to be driving out here?”

  “Routine patrol. How much you had to drink?”

  Of course he would think that.

  “Nothing, Officer. Not a drop.”

  “You've been banged up pretty bad. Got any ID on ya?”

  “Afraid not.”

  “I see. Well, I can't just leave you out here, you understand?” The officer keyed up the radio on his shoulder and spoke into it. “Control, Bravo 504, I'm 10-12, over.”

  A voice crackled in response. “10-4, 504.”

  “Like I said, I'm fine,” Maximus said. “Listen, I'm going to stand up, alright?” He held out his hands in a non-threatening gesture in an attempt to put the officer at ease.

  The man backed up anyway, an instinct from training and hard-won experience, Maximus figured. “Go ahead,” the police officer said. Maximus couldn't see it, but he imagined as he stood the cop probably shadowed his hand over his holster. It's what he would've done.

  “There's a girl,” Maximus said. “She's been kidnapped.” He couldn't see the cop's face anymore in the dark, but he knew the man was likely looking at him with some suspicion.

  “Where are you coming from anyway? You want to get out of the cold? You must be freezing only being in that shirt.”

  “Sure.”

  The officer stepped closer. “Now, I gotta put you in the back if we're gonna talk. You understand?”

  “Are you arresting me?”

  The officer stepped back again, sensing a bit of resistance in this stranger's voice. “No,” the cop said, “not necessarily, but I do have to cuff you and put you in, just for your safety and mine.”

  “I'm not drunk,” Maximus said. “I'm trying to report a crime to you, you understand?”

  “I get it, but we don't need to talk about it out here. We can speak inside the vehicle where it's warmer. Clearly you've been through something, I gotta take your well-being into account here too.”

  This guy was slick, no denying that, Maximus thought. “Alright,” he said, turning around holding his wrists out behind him.

  The officer stepped close once again and gently clasped the cuffs on, not too tight. “Not your first time in cuffs I'm guessing?”

  Maximus didn't bother answering. He walked to the back of the truck with the cop grasping his thumb, his other hand resting on his shoulder.

  “Watch your head.” Maximus ducked into the backseat, happy to have the warmth against his skin. The officer slammed the door shut. He removed his trooper hat, tossed it onto the passenger seat and clambered in behind the wheel. The officer flicked the dome light on and the two men could see one another properly. The officer looked a bit younger than Maximus, maybe mid-thirties, clean shaven. “So, what's this about a girl?”

  “I saw her taken from this lot.” He glanced at the digital clock on the dash display that read 12:47. “Had to be about an hour ago, maybe a little more.”

  “And what were you doing out here?”

  “I was on the train.”

  “Headed here?”

  “Minneapolis.”

  “From where, Seattle?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why'd you get off here then?”

  “This girl. She sat near me on the train. She was being harassed by two men. Young guys. Late teens early twenties. I helped
her with these guys.”

  “Helped her how?”

  He's not believing a word of this. Maximus could feel frustration building inside. That lack of control. “She was being harassed by them, she didn't know them, that was clear. I intervened, told them to get lost essentially, and they did.”

  “This involve a fight of some kind? Just be honest with me. You fight these guys and they kicked you all off the train?”

  “No. There was no fight. I mean, I pushed one of them.”

  “I see.”

  “No, you're not getting it, there was no fight. I told them to back off, leave her alone and they did.”

  “So then what happened?”

  “I fell asleep for a time and when I woke up we were close to stopping here, and she wasn't in her seat anymore. When we stopped, I could see out the window, both the girl and those young guys they were holding onto her in an aggressive way, like dragging her.”

  “That's when you got off?”

  “Yes. I could tell something was wrong. They were trying to take her.”

  “So you got off the train, you confronted them and that's when the fight occurred?”

  “Wasn't much of a fight. I saw them put this girl in the trunk of their car. As they were driving away I kicked their taillight out. They stopped and the guy driving, he shot me.”

  “What?” The officer's voice rose an octave as he spun back around to look at Maximus again.

  Maximus caught himself. “Sorry, not 'shot', I mean he hit me.” He knew there was no way the officer would believe he'd been shot what with the wound now largely non-existent.

  The officer chuckled. “Bit of a difference there,” he said, “being shot's a little different than being hit.”

  “Yes, sorry,” Maximus said, “I misspoke. I meant, he punched me.”

  “And what'd you do?” The officer went back to making notes in his notebook.

  “Nothing I could do. There were three of them and one of me.”

  Three of them. One of me. If I could go back to that alleyway, Maximus thought. I would've done it differently. I could've changed everything. Would you change what you are now, though?

  “So, the guy hit you and then what?”

  “I fell. Then the car took off with those three guys, the girl in the trunk. Then you found me.”

  “You just laid there all that time?”

  “It was quite a punch.”

  “Must've been. Might be good to have EMS look at ya. Could be dealing with a concussion, that kind of thing.”

  “No, I mean, I'm fine now.”

  “You seem lucid enough, I'll grant you. I don't smell anything on you.”

  “So what about the girl?”

  “Well, Maximus, we've gotta talk about that. Get a description of her, those guys you were talking about, the car. We can do all that down at the station. You got a place to stay tonight? I'm guessing you don't.”

  He's going to put me in a cell, isn't he?

  “No,” Maximus said, “I don't. I'm worried though. All this time we're spending. Those guys aren't messing around. I'm worried about what they're going to do to her.”

  “I hear ya,” the officer said. “That's why we're gonna look into this right away. First thing's first let's get you back and situated. Sound fair?”

  Maximus nodded. No point in fighting it, this guy's made up his mind. “Fine.”

  The officer flicked off the dome light, put the truck in drive and turned out of the parking lot onto the dark highway. As much as Maximus hated other people, he was compelled by a strong pull of protectiveness he felt toward the girl. But he also knew the reality of how these type of situations often played out. Just stay alive, he imagined saying to her. One way or another, I'm going to find you.

  4

  The road didn't feature too many light poles. Through the bars over the windows Maximus could make out a few scattered acreages and industrial buildings among the thick trees. He bounced around the back of the truck as the highway was rough and hadn't seen a maintenance crew in a long time.

  “Sorry for the bumps,” the officer said, “they keep saying they're gonna work on this stretch. Don't know when that's gonna happen.”

  They wound down out of the thick woods and power poles and streetlights became more frequent. The road smoothed and Maximus could see they were in a small town. The officer radioed back to his office he was bringing someone in. Maximus watched through the window as they passed a row of two-story brick buildings, the typical Mom and Pop businesses on the first floor. Hairdressers, laundromats, a bakery, a drug store, a bank, and a post office.

  “Kalispell's smaller than I thought,” Maximus said.

  “Oh, this is Morganville,” the officer said, “next town over from Kalispell. Train station's kind of the territory between.”

  “You state police? I didn't get a look at your crest.”

  “No. Morgan County Sheriffs. I'm Deputy Walsh, by the way, don't know if I'd mentioned that.”

  Maximus observed the run-down state of some of the buildings under the orange glow of streetlights while they were stopped at one of the only intersections in town with a set of traffic lights. On the other side of the intersection were two dilapidated four-floor apartment buildings and dozens of crumbling townhouses with mostly cheap, beat-up cars lining the curb in front.

  A lot of poverty here, Maximus thought. He admonished himself for being judgmental, but he couldn't help but think this would be the type of place those boys might be living and could've brought that girl. I bet all kinds of underground activity happens around here.

  “Bet this place keeps you busy,” Maximus said.

  “Yeah, it's funny, a lot of the locals think this place is so quiet,” the officer said, chuckling. “Nope, not so much.”

  “I can imagine. Not a lot of jobs.”

  “Used to be. They moved the mill to another county.”

  “That would do it.”

  “Hey, how's your head anyway? You feelin alright?”

  “I'm fine.”

  He's going to ask me to take the breathalyzer test, isn't he?

  Maximus looked to his right, could see a one-story brick building, a wooden sign in front with a light shining up at it that read: Morgan County Sheriff's Department. The officer wheeled his truck onto the station lot, rounded the back of the building, stopped and reversed into a cinder block garage, painted white inside. The detention area, Maximus figured. As the truck slowed, Maximus saw two other Sheriff's Deputies come into view, a man and a woman. He heard the woman first as soon as Deputy Walsh opened his door.

  “Who'd you find?” She said.

  The male officer peered at Maximus through the window.

  Cops, Maximus thought, always so assertive. Intrusive, more like.

  “Don't recognize this one,” the male officer said.

  “Yeah,” Walsh said, “he's fresh off the train. Says he witnessed a kidnapping?”

  “That so?”

  Walsh threw the other two a bit of a concerned look. “Is Buzz in the office? Kinda hoping he's still sitting out on Highway 3.”

  “Hasn't come back yet,” the woman said, “this to do with your C.I.?”

  Walsh nodded, pointing to the back of his truck. Maximus couldn't make out what they were saying. “Yeah, I have a feeling this guy's gonna give me a vehicle description matches what my C.I.'s been telling me about those other missing girls. If he does, that's gonna point even more at the Moshers.”

  “Walton Mosher, right?” The woman said.

  “Yep.”

  “You're worried about Buzz, I know, but you know Buzz hasn't talked to his cousin in over two years?” The male officer said, “that's what he tells me, anyway.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Walsh said. “Just trying to avoid a conflict is all. Mosher clan's got a lot of friends.”

  “You bookin him in?”

  “Nah, he was in a scrape of some kind, but says he hasn't been drinking and I believe him. Just gonna take
him into Four for questioning, see what he's got to say about this girl, might be able to tie some things together.”

  “You know he might be involved, right? Tryin to play you?”

  Walsh nodded. “Thought of that. I'm not seeing it. Getting a different vibe off this guy. I think he's above board. But I've been wrong before. Besides, he was on the Amtrak from Seattle.”

  “Seattle?”

  “That's what he said.”

  “We'll see,” the woman said, chuckling, “didn't you hear? The Moshers have got people in every city.”

  “I wouldn't doubt it,” Walsh said, half-jokingly. “Anyway, I'd like to get him out of here before Buzz comes back.”

  “Go to it, young man.”

  The other two deputies walked around behind the truck, up the long narrow corridor and back inside the station. Deputy Walsh checked his service weapon, placing it in a lock box along the wall. He opened the back door of the truck and beckoned for Maximus to hop out.

  “Go ahead and turn around,” Walsh said.

  Maximus turned to face the truck and the deputy removed the cuffs, placing them back in the pouch on his belt. “Hope you understand,” Walsh said, “had to do that as a precaution.”

  “Yep. No problem.”

  “Come this way.”

  Walsh motioned for Maximus to walk ahead of him up the corridor toward a heavy gray door.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Just a place where we can sit down, talk for a few minutes.”

  Walsh unlocked the heavy door and held his arm out for Maximus to pass by. They stepped onto flat gray carpet and Maximus observed a large room divided by cubicles. A large photocopier sat by the wall to his left next to a water cooler. Computer monitors sat on desks, their screen-savers engaged. Only half the ceiling lights were on and he could hear chatter and laughter somewhere in another corner of the building. They walked from that room to a hallway with glass-walled offices on the left and closed off interview rooms on the right. They stopped at a brown door with the number 4 on it. “In here,” Walsh said.