Crusader (37 page)

The woman with the red hair took charge. She pointed at the trash trailer and hollered over to Verna, "What is this contraption? A Deepfreeze?"

Verna said, "Yes, ma'am."

"How cold does it get in there?"

I said, "It maintains a steady temperature of twenty-nine degrees Fahrenheit."

The woman turned to me. "Did he get stuck in there?"

I didn't know how to answer that one. Kristin spoke up. "Yes, ma'am."

The woman leaned over Ironman and examined him quickly. She said, to no one in particular, "How long was he in there?"

I stammered, "I—I don't know." I asked Kristin, "When's the last time we saw him?"

"It was before seven-thirty."

The woman looked back at me and waited, but I had nothing to add. "So he could have been in there for two hours?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She started to bark orders at the other two. Kristin finally let go of Ironman's body as the three paramedics flew into action. Ironman wound up strapped to a stretcher inside the ambulance, hooked up to a monitor with a green screen.

Mrs. Royce squealed up in her Ford Escort wagon. She parked next to Verna and got out. Verna called over, "Your boy got caught in the freezer. They're taking him to the hospital for observation."

Mrs. Royce sputtered, "I have to get Dolly back home. She has allergy-induced asthma. She can't be out in the night air." She walked over to the back of the ambulance and peered in. "William, how do you feel?"

Ironman opened his eyes and grinned weakly.

Mrs. Royce told Verna, "Let me get him home. I'll observe him at home."

Verna's voice hardened. "No, ma'am. They are taking him to the hospital."

Mrs. Royce whispered, "We don't have insurance. I will
take him to the hospital if he needs to go. He seems fine now." She told the paramedics, "This is a false alarm."

Verna blew up. "False alarm! I called in the alarm, and there was nothing false about it. You're paying for this ambulance, so you may as well let the boy ride in it."

The lead paramedic approached Mrs. Royce with a clipboard, but then she thought better of it and turned to Kristin. "What's his name?"

Kristin thought about that. She finally answered, "His name is William Royce."

"Will anyone be accompanying Mr. Royce to the hospital?"

Kristin answered without hesitation, "Yes, I will." She told me, "Roberta, you call my dad. All right? Tell him what happened, and tell him where I am."

The paramedic instructed her, "You can go ahead and get in the back." Kristin climbed aboard, sat on a bench, and took hold of Ironman's hand.

Mrs. Royce explained to the paramedic, "It's not that I don't want to go. My daughter has allergy-induced asthma. I have to get her back home."

The paramedic ignored that. She hopped up into the driver's seat, and the ambulance pulled away immediately. Mrs. Royce hurried back to her car and pulled away, too, but she went in the other direction.

Only Verna and I were left in the parking lot. I told her, "Thanks, Verna. Thanks a lot."

"Hey, no problem. Thanks to you, too. It's a good thing you were here. That boy would have been inside that thing until tomorrow morning."

I shivered and said, "Can you imagine finding him then?"

Verna told me, "It wouldn't have been my problem then. Tonight is my last night on the job."

"No! Why?"

"Because there ain't no more job. You guys are on your own now."

"Oh. I'm really sorry, Verna."

"Hey, ain't no thang. Don't worry about it. I'm not."

"What are you going to do?"

"Griffin told me there's plenty of jobs down at the County Services building. He said he would introduce me around. He said I could get into Juvenile Justice and make a lot more than I'm making here."

We walked back toward the car. Verna said, "Come on, Roberta. I'll give you a ride home."

"Are you allowed to do that?"

"No. But what are they going to do, fire me?"

I got back into the mall security car. Verna reached under the seat and fished out her cell phone again. She handed the phone to me. "Here."

"What's this for?"

"You're supposed to call your uncle Frank."

"Oh. Thanks." I dialed the number and put the small phone up to my ear. It was still ringing.

Then I heard a slurred voice. "Hello."

"Uncle Frank? It's Roberta."

"Who?"

"Roberta, Uncle Frank. Ironman got hurt. He went into the trash trailer, and he didn't come out."

"Who is this?"

I stared at the little phone, then I put my mouth up to it again. "Uncle Frank, it's me, Roberta." I looked over at Verna. She was looking straight ahead. I tried, "Uncle Frank, Kristin is going to be late. She rode to the hospital in the ambulance with Ironman."

"Kristin's in the hospital?"

"No, sir. She went to the hospital, but she's okay. She rode with Ironman so he wouldn't be alone."

In the background I heard him yell, "Karl! Come here! Take this. It's about Kristin."

Karl got on. He sounded like a frightened child. "Hello."

I felt a great sense of relief. "Karl, it's Roberta."

I could hear his relief, too. "Oh, hi, cuz."

"Listen: Ironman tried to freeze himself to death in the trash trailer, but Kristin and I pulled him out. Kristin rode with him to the hospital."

"Wow."

"They're okay, though. Kristin's okay, anyway. I think Ironman will be, too."

"Unbelievable. Why did she go with him?"

I didn't know. I said, "She saved his life. She made his heart beat again."

"Wow. So the plan was he was gonna just sit in there till he died?"

"I guess."

Suddenly I heard Uncle Frank again. "Karl! What's going on?"

Karl muttered quietly, "I gotta get off." He hung up.

We pulled into my driveway. I said, "I appreciate the ride, Verna."

"No problem, kid."

"I hope you like your new job."

"Thanks, Roberta."

Verna waited until I got safely inside. I saw one blinking light on the answering machine: "This is Detective John Griffin calling for Roberta Ritter. Please call or page me as soon as possible." I pressed the Erase button right down, thinking,
Why should I talk to you? To make you feel better about Hawg?

It was so late that I decided to just grab a bag of Doritos and eat them in front of the TV. I switched the set on and moved up the dial until I found
The Last Judgment.
Tonight Stephen Cross was speaking to a studio audience composed mostly of parents.
Here is what he said: "You know, the devil does not sit in his headquarters in hell. The devil is a better businessman than that. The devil long ago franchised his operation. Now the devil has branch offices in every city in America.

"Do you know where they are located? You may not. Or you might say, 'Times Square, New York.' But you would be wrong. You most likely could not name the devil's local branch office. But your teenage son or daughter could. Even if that son or daughter is a good, God-loving, Christian child, that son or daughter knows where to go. It is no secret among the young. The information is whispered among them during sleepover parties, and on three-way-dialing phone calls, and in on-line chat rooms."

This audience was not nearly as emotional as those prison guys, but they started to react. I heard a few
amens.
He continued, "We have made it very convenient for our children to go to the devil. We have provided them with cars to get there. We have provided them with money to buy drugs, the coin of the devil's realm. And worst of all, we have let them come to believe that the world of the devil is preferable to the world they live in."

Stephen Cross looked into the camera lens. "Ask yourselves now, and admit it to yourselves if it is true: Is there a young person in your life who would prefer living in hell over living with you?"

When I arrived at the studio today, Mrs. Knight informed me, "You have a tour group coming through. They're from Lourdes Academy, so it'll be a nice group. We won't have to worry about them damaging anything."

I hung out in the lobby next to the video dubbing board. Soon the outside door opened and a group of about a dozen
girls from Lourdes came in. They were dressed in the uniform that Kristin used to wear. It's a white blouse with the choice of either a maroon skirt, shorts, or slacks. A heavyset nun in a long gray dress was at the lead.

Mrs. Knight appeared and held out her hand, saying, "You must be Sister Ann." The nun admitted she was. She had a deep, flat voice.

I saw Nina right away. She was in the middle of the pack, talking to another girl. The girl looked familiar, too. Then I remembered where I had seen her—at the makeup counter at Bloomingdale's, getting her colors done. She was the one who stuffed.

Mrs. Knight did her introduction and then brought the group over. Although I had spotted Nina, she apparently had not seen me. When she got close enough, I called over to her, "Hi, Nina."

Nina didn't actually look at me, but she muttered, "Hey, how's it going?"

The girl with her looked at me and made a face, like she had seen something weird. She asked Nina, "Who's that?"

Nina muttered, "That's some chick who works at the West End Mall."

"You're kidding. You shop at the West End Mall?"

"No! My dad has an office there."

It sounded like Nina wanted to drop the subject, but the girl kept on, "So she works for your dad?"

"No, she works at that virtual reality place they got there. Do you remember Kristin? The chick with the bad credit cards? She's Kristin's cousin."

The nun finally interrupted them. She said, "Nina. Lisette. Attention over here, please."

Lisette said, "Yes, Sister Ann."

But they both continued to banter.

Mrs. Knight gave her speech about the expensive equipment. Then she picked up the camera from the video dubbing board and trained it on Sister Ann. She said, "Come on, Sister. State your name and your school, and then make a brief comment."

Sister Ann growled, "A comment?"

Mrs. Knight pressed the button. "Yes. Anything. Anything at all."

"How about, 'Be quiet, Nina.'"

Mrs. Knight giggled. "No. No. Say something about you."

The nun faced the camera. "I'm Sister Ann. From Lourdes Academy."

Mrs. Knight said, "That's it. Now make a comment."

"And I hate this stuff."

Mrs. Knight laughed appreciatively. "Thank you." Then she turned her camera on Nina. Nina was ready. She made a little speech: "I'm Nina Navarro, and I want to have my own TV talk show, like my homegirl Angela del Fuego."

Mrs. Knight said, "Terrific! Thank you." She taped two more girls, then announced, "Okay. Let's start the studio part of the tour."

Nina asked her, "Will we meet Angela del Fuego?"

"Yes, if you like."

"We would like. And I'd like to get her autograph."

Mrs. Knight told her, "Oh, sorry. Angela doesn't do autographs."

Nina's face fell. "Oh no! Why?"

"She has those long nails. She does what she can to protect them."

Nina nodded sympathetically. "Oh yeah. I can see that. When are we going to meet her?"

"After the studio part of the tour."

Nina said to Lisette, "Cool. This is so cool." But Lisette did not seem at all interested.

I had an idea right after the group took off. I made a copy of Sister Ann's segment and used it to splice in a new tape. I switched Nina's face and Sister Ann's voice. If you looked closely, you could see the blips, but it was still effective.

The Lourdes girls returned. Mrs. Knight arranged them around the video dubbing board for the replays of their tapes. I ran a generic one first, mixing one girl's face with another girl's voice, just so they could get the idea. Then I cued up my special project. Nina's face came up, but Sister Ann's voice came out of her mouth. In that deep growl, she proclaimed, "I'm Nina. And I stuff."

Everyone stared at the screen dumbfounded. Then Lisette started to laugh. In fact, she laughed so hard and so long that she nearly choked. The other girls all got the idea, and they started cracking up, too. Nina looked from me to the screen and back again. I smiled. Nina was shocked at first, but then she gave me the strangest look. It definitely wasn't anger. I think it was respect.

Mrs. Knight needed Sister Ann's help to finally regain order. Then she did her "So you see, seeing is not always believing" line.

Afterward, Mrs. Knight disappeared mysteriously for about thirty seconds. When she returned, she was with Angela del Fuego. Most of the girls regarded Angela with cool curiosity.

Nina once again changed moods with amazing speed. She was ecstatic.

Angela said, "Hello, girls. You are all girls, right?"

Mrs. Knight said, "Right."

"It's great to see you here. Can I answer any questions for anybody?"

None of the girls said anything. It was an awkward moment, but Nina soon rescued it. Her hand shot up, and she practically shouted at Angela, "You got the most beautiful smile."

Angela laughed. "Thanks. So do you."

"Oh, thank you. Are you Cuban?"

"No, sweetie. I'm from L.A."

"Your name, though. Is that Cuban?"

"I don't think so. I just made it up."

Nina was as excited as a little kid. "How could I get started, you know, being like you?"

Angela laughed, but with a trace of worry. She answered, "Well, you could go to Arizona State and major in communications, like I did."

"Then I could have my own show?"

"No. Then you could be a weather girl on a news show."

"Come on! No way! Angela del Fuego was a weather girl?"

"No. But Angela Martinez was—at KTUL in Tulsa, and at WJXX in Jacksonville. Then, one day, she decided she had done her last five-day forecast. She became Angela del Fuego. Now she has her own show, with over two million viewers across Florida and the Southeast."

Angela then turned to Mrs. Knight, who stepped in front of the group and announced, "Okay! We have one final stop on our tour that I know you're going to love!" Angela made a quick exit as Mrs. Knight led the tour off to the video vault.