Fly With Fire (26 page)

He pulled in and saw the
driver leaning against the back of his cab tapping the truck to Indian sounding
music while staring at his smart phone. A man without legs sat in a wheelchair
outside the entrance to the store. It was his usual spot. Zack dropped a buck
on him as he passed by eyes open for Mo. He didn’t see her and wandered around.
Ladies. He knew the gas station had bathrooms. He decided to wait outside
knowing she’d have to come back to the cab. He brushed by a gray haired black
man wearing sunglasses and went to his car. He leaned against it watching for
Mo. “Hey, pal, you heading to the airport?” The driver nodded with a friendly
smile.

“Bring lady down, take lady
back up. All the way down here for five minutes. You Americans! But she nice
lady.” He bobbed his head in agreement with himself as well as with the music.

Mo had gotten sick again in
the rest room heaving on an empty stomach. She realized she had not eaten the
entire day. She’d grab a bottle of water and head to the hotel. She could get a
flight in the morning. Her stomach ached from the heaving. She felt clammy and
wondered if she were coming down with something. Reality. “I’m coming down with
a good dose of my own medicine,” she said under her breath. She got a bottle of
water out of the cooler and stopped for a moment at a display of cookies and
crackers in personal serving size cellophane bags. Crackers might be helpful.
Gram had always given her crackers when she was sick. And ginger ale. But she
rarely drank soda now.

She turned out of the aisle
and noticed one person in line in front of her. She stared at magazine covers
while hearing him ask for a pack of Kools. Then she heard “Gimme all the cash,”
so calmly it took a second to register. She looked up and saw that the man two
feet from her held a gun in both hands aiming it directly at one of the two
clerks. She turned to stone, time stopping as the gun loomed in her vision. “Be
cool, be cool,” the clerk said. The other one held his hands up, eyes on the
gun. “I’m getting the money, be cool,” the first clerk assured the robber. Mo
stood still and watched the man flick the gun a couple times to hurry the clerk
up. The clerk was dumping money on the counter.

“I need a bag, mother, put it
in a bag.” Now his voice became agitated. He let go of the gun with one hand
and pounded the counter once before grabbing a wad of bills and stuffing it
into his pocket. Some kind of dust seemed to fly off him as he moved. Mo
inhaled some and coughed. The man swung around and almost hit the side of her
face with the gun.

“Fuck, bitch, get on the
floor. Hurry up with that money.” He aimed the gun at her while she did as he
ordered. “Don’t move. You gotta car here? Answer me, you gotta car?”

Mo struggled to answer,
croaking out the words, “I’m in a cab.” She spoke toward the floor. A pang in
her stomach made her gorge rise. She forced it back.

“Get up, you walk out in
front. Don’t touch nothin’; I’ll kill ‘er.” He grabbed the sleeve of her sweatshirt
yanking upward. He held a plastic bag of money in the same hand. It was then
she realized there were a number of people in the store. They stood still as
statues watching her being pushed out the door with a sense of relief on their
faces.

She felt the gun in her back.
It dug into her lower spine. She looked straight ahead. The robber hesitated.
There were lots of cars in the parking lot but no people. He saw the cab on the
right end of the parking lot with no driver in it. It registered with him that
there was no one in the lot despite all the cars.  The wheelchair was
gone. Suddenly, there was no one on the street. He heard sirens that seemed to
be getting closer from just a few blocks away. Lots of cops in this
neighborhood, he thought. The mayor lived right down the street. Shit. He
pushed her toward the cab then changed his mind and pulled her backward toward
the car wash belonging to the gas station. He could cut through the lot and
maybe outrun the cops who were on their way for sure.

Mo was pulled backward toward
the carwash then turned and pushed forward with a sharp jab of steel in her
back. Through a window she saw a car inside covered with colored foam. Another
car sat waiting, running with no driver, the driver side door open. “Look, why
not let me go and take this car before it’s too late.” She was hoarse, her
voice cracking like a riverbed in a drought. He gave her a push toward the car.
“Get in, you drive.”

He held the gun toward her as
she went around. He reached down and found the passenger door locked. “Fuck,
open the door, unlock the goddamn…” A wrecking ball hit him from behind. His
face flew toward the pavement. The gun in his hand went off, the shot striking
the fifty cent air machine which gave off air with a whoosh. The running car
lurched forward and ran into the automated cash intake machine which started
repeating “Please select from the following menu. Ten dollars for the ultimate
wash. Nine dollars for…” Zack grabbed the man’s wrist so hard it almost
snapped. He beat the fist holding the gun from his position on his back. He dug
a knee into the robber’s spine, all his weight on the lumber section. The gun
flew as the man shrieked with pain. Zack yanked both arms behind the man’s back
and cuffed him. He was just in time to hold up his badge as police cars
screeched in from all directions.

Mo felt a hand on her
shoulder. She gripped the wheel of the strange car. It all happened so fast she
wasn’t sure what was happening except that a shot was fired as she reached to
unlock the passenger door. She thought he had shot at her. She had sprung back
and grabbed the wheel ready to take off and crashed the car into the machine.
The car stalled and she froze waiting for the next shot. She didn’t even know
Zack had tackled the robber. Zack? His voice. “Mo. Monica!” She looked up with
incoherent disbelief. Zack. “Mo. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“Zack? I…I…” She was pulled
out of the car. His arms were around her. Lights were flashing but it was as
though her hearing had suddenly been turned on and the sirens were deafening.
She put a hand on her ear and pressed the other against Zack’s chest and shook.
He kissed her head and stroked her hair. He slowly prodded her to a police car
and asked the officers to cut the sirens. She looked up and saw the dusty
robber having his head pushed down as he was being put into the back a cruiser.
“How did you…?”

“It’s okay. It’s over. Sit in
here.” he helped her into the back of a cruiser. “I have to talk to them a
minute.” He lowered himself over her leaning into the car. “Your okay, baby,
you’re okay.”

“I was waiting in the parking
lot for a friend to come out. A cabbie I was talking to suddenly pointed at the
store yelling ‘Robber!’ I told him I’m a cop and told him to wave people away
coming by foot off Roosevelt. I pulled my gun and flashed, cleared the parking
lot. I called it in and watched the robbery in progress while securing the
area. The perp took Mo, Monica, my friend, as a hostage and exited the store. I
was to the side of the door. I didn’t want to get him excited and endanger Mo
so I backed around the corner toward the carwash.  At first I thought he
was going for the cab or another car but he changed his mind. I think he got
suspicious that everyone had disappeared. He pushed Mo toward the wash and
spotted that car there. Will somebody shut that machine up?” A couple officers
were trying to figure out what to do about the talkative cash intake machine.

“I yanked the guy out of the
car just before the perp with his hostage came around the corner. Luckily I had
an opportunity to apprehend him without further incident. Although the gun he
was holding went off. I think I heard it hit metal. That’s the guy there; that
was in the car. You’ll have to ask him what he saw. I told him to stay down. I think
he hid on the other side of the carwash. Ah, the Pakistani guy, the cab driver,
he saw the perp pull his gun. Other witnesses inside. I’m sure your guys are on
them. Look, the woman’s name is Monica Whitman. Can she give her statement in
the morning? She’s been through enough. I’ll take responsibility.”

“We’ve got enough to press.
And here comes the press! Bring her to the precinct in the morning. Good work.
We’ll get this guy tucked in.” The officer leaned into the car. “You’ll have to
come in the morning Ms.…Ms… Well, your friend here is going to take you home,
is that okay? Do you understand what I’m sayin’?” Mo nodded her head. She heard
Zack’s side of the story as if listening through a tunnel. It was as if what
she heard had no connection with her.

“Come on, Mo.” He gently
pulled her out of the car. She put her arms around him and clung to him. “My
car’s around the front.” She managed to straighten herself and leaned on him a
little. She felt as if she’d been awakened from a bad dream.  

“Where’s my cab? Did the
driver go? I guess he left. Of course he left. My backpack.” She saw the cab
driver talking animatedly with two officers. His turban had become unwound. He
tried to straighten it as he gave his statement. Mo saw people all around. Some
were giving statements. Those who had seen her taken hostage stared. The crowd
of onlookers was growing. Zack steered her toward his car.

“Ms. Lady! Ms. Lady! Oh,
Allah be praised! Ms. Lady, policeman save you!” He interrupted his
conversation with a police officer to put his hands together and raised them in
prayer, “Allah be praised!”

“I’m sorry I got you into
this,” Mo shook off the stupor that had descended on her. “The meter’s running.
I’m so sorry.”

“No, Ms. Lady, don’t you
worry. Man say you no go back to airport tonight. No worry, no worry I take
extra money off from card. Allah look out for you. You lucky policeman come.
You very brave!” He tried to arrange his turban but his hands were shaking
nervously.

“Thanks for the help. What’s
your name?” Zack had his arm around Mo. He kissed her head unconsciously,
looking at the cab driver.

“Yosef. Yosef is my name. So
happy to help.”

“Where are you from?” Mo
asked.

“Pakistan. I am so grateful
to Allah for your safety. I will get your bag.” He made for his cab.

“Yosef!” Mo pushed away from
Zack. “Look,” the driver handed her the bag. As she put her hands on her wallet
she was relieved to recall that she had grabbed a five and left her wallet in
the backpack. She pulled out her card. “You call me and I’ll arrange for you
and your family to see the show out at Greendale. Firegirl! Next weekend. We’re
on a break right now.”

“You work there? At the
Greendale? Wait I tell my wife! You are so kind. You must be big wig at
coliseum. Thank you, thank you!”

“Any night you want. And
Yosef, don’t worry about the money.” He thanked her again and again and finally
got in his car. As she turned she heard him on his phone, excitedly speaking to
someone, probably his wife.

Zack opened the passenger
side of his car and helped her in. He pulled the seatbelt across her and
buckled it pressing his lips to the side of her forehead. “Gave me a scare,” he
whispered. He went around and as he climbed in to the driver side he looked at
her. She gazed at him with eyes like dark planets. He felt himself caught in
their gravitational pull. A tide of emotion swept over him. What if… ” There’s
Abbi Dorfman, ten o’clock news. We’re outta here just in time.”

“You shouldn’t have to drive
me all the way back after all this.” Mo said as they pulled onto Prairie.
“Thank you, for what you did. You saved my life, Zack. Oh, my God. You saved my
life.” Her hoarse voice cracked. Her hands were on her face. She squeezed her
hands against her eyes as if it would blot out the memory.

“I’m a cop Mo. I did had I
had to do. You have to give your statement in the morning. No sense goin’ back
tonight. You can stay at my place.”  He glanced her way. “I’ll sleep on
the couch.”

“You don’t have to…okay, I’m
too exhausted to argue. What about your…” She curled her knuckles into nervous
fists on her lap as if preparing to punch some unwelcome truth away.

“She’s just a friend. Lives
in the neighborhood. Actress. Just a friend.” Zack pulled into the lot grateful
the press hadn’t followed. He opened her door and helped her out for which she
was grateful, her knees feeling as if they might give. He took her backpack
slinging it over his shoulder and taking her hand headed for the side door to
the building.

“You always seem to be
extricating me from the law. I must seem like a jabbering mess every time
something happens.” The elevator started moving.

“Having someone hold a gun on
you is not just something. Nor is having a friend murdered. You’ve been pretty
brave through it all. Most people would’ve pissed themselves, Mo. I’m not
kidding.” He guided her off the freight elevator. His door was just steps from
it. “Let me get you something to drink,” he offered as they stepped into his
condo.

“Thank you, yes, I’m parched.
I went into the gas station for water. That poor cab driver got more than he
bargained for when he picked me up.” She accepted the glass of water and drank
the entire contents down forgetting about the sick stomach she’d had earlier.
It rushed up on her and not knowing where the bathroom was she made a desperate
lunge for the kitchen sink. Zack grabbed her braid and offered paper towels.

“Have you eaten anything
today?” He pulled her out of the kitchen area and to the sofa where he sat her
down. He got wet paper towels and sat beside her.