Hit Squad (6 page)

Mickey shivered. The place was scary. He stumbled forward over the uneven floor.

Whisper led the way. He stopped in the semidarkness. He warned the others to be quiet. They listened. Mickey could hear running, scrambling sounds echoing back at them through the vaulted chambers. It was Tweed and Bibby ahead of them, trying to escape.

Whisper rasped, “Come on!”

A sudden noise made them all jump. Mickey looked up in fright. They had disturbed a flock of pigeons up on the thick beams.

They moved as quickly as they could in the musty belly of the old city, following the echoing sounds ahead. They passed faded storefronts, almost 120 years old, and peered into their dusty innards. Mickey felt the presence of gray ghosts, the spirits of men and women long fled from the wood floors
and high counters. Water dripped through in places and rotted the wood. Or it gathered in pools to trickle off along the uneven ground to lower levels and disappear.

Mickey suddenly had the strangest feeling: he felt as though they had all been transported to another place in another time. This place under the streets of the city was a fantasy world. There was nothing real here. The laws of human behavior did not apply in this place because it was a place of the dead. He felt as though they had stumbled through a curtain of time into another dimension.

“I don't like it here, Mickey,” whispered Heck nervously. “Could we go home now?”

“Relax, Heck,” said Mickey as they passed a roped-off area. A painted sign,
Danger. Keep Out
, barred its entrance.

“Dead end,” said Peter. The sound of shoes on crumbling plaster came from inside what was once a hotel. Whisper led the way into one of its doorless openings. The farther in they went the dimmer it became.

Suddenly Tweed and Bibby appeared. They rushed out of the darkness and fled back out into the roped-off area.

“After them!” yelled Birgit.

They ran as hard as they dared over the uneven terrain, Mickey urging the slower Heck along. They caught up with Tweed and Bibby at yet another barrier with boards and ropes and a sign reading
Danger
in red paint.

“We've got ‘em!” Whisper panted. Tweed and Bibby, their eyes wild, chests heaving, were trying to decide whether to risk going over the barrier. Ahead of them, behind the ropes, a flight of steps descended to another level with more red-painted signs:
Danger. Do Not Enter
.

Tweed and Bibby were trapped.

The Squad advanced on them, three with baseball bats.

“Let them have it!” yelled Birgit. A thin mustache of sweat beaded her upper lip.

Mickey moved forward with the others, baseball bat at the ready. In the danger area behind the barrier he could now see that part
of the old street, at some time in the recent past, had collapsed in the center, leaving only narrow wooden beams, or catwalks, on the sides.

Tweed and Bibby ran from the baseball bats. They leaped over the rope barrier and started over one of the narrow catwalks, aiming to reach safety on the opposite side of the collapsed street. Whisper started to move forward in pursuit but Birgit yelled, “Stop! It's too risky. Let them go.”

But it was too late for Heck to change his mental gears; he was already lumbering after the two muggers onto the catwalk.

Then everything happened at once. Tweed and Bibby came to a halt in the middle of the catwalk. Heck caught up with them. Their combined weight caused the beam to sag. There was a loud crack of splintering timber and the sound of falling masonry.

Mickey's stomach flipped. “Come back, Heck!” he yelled.

But the three boys were frozen to the spot.

“Run for it, Heck,” screamed Mickey.

But Heck was too terrified to move.

Mickey would have to go out there and bring him back. He started forward with a rush.

“Stop him!” cried Birgit.

Mickey hadn't gone two yards before Whisper tackled him.

“Hang on to him,” Birgit yelled.

Mickey tried to free himself but Whisper's arms were clamped around his legs.

Birgit stooped and yelled in Mickey's ear. “You go out there, Michael, and you're toast!”

“But Heck … ”

“Let him go,” she yelled. “He's just a big nobody. He's not one of us!”

Crack! A sound like a rifle shot. It was the beam collapsing.

Whisper fell back, releasing Mickey. They watched in horror. The underground cavern exploded with the roar of falling timber and masonry.

When the noise stopped, Mickey looked
down into the crater. He could see nothing because of the thick gray dust that hung in the half darkness.

Whisper and Peter stood frozen with horror. Birgit was in shock. She stood staring at the empty place beyond the rope, the knuckles of both fists pressed to her trembling mouth.

Mickey ran back the way they had come, followed by the others. He found the stairs down to the next level.

“I'll go call for an ambulance,” yelled Peter, heading up the stairs towards the street.

Mickey threw himself down the stairs. Birgit and Whisper followed. They ran back along the lower level to the site of the collapse. Through the swirling dust clouds Mickey could see the outlines of the beam and the pile of masonry and plaster where Heck had disappeared.

Whisper grabbed his arm. “It's not safe, Mickey!” he croaked. “You could get hurt!”

“I've got to find Heck!” Mickey strained to escape Whisper's grip on his arm.

“Wait!” Birgit shouted. “Wait until the dust clears.”

Mickey couldn't wait. He pulled himself free. He had to find Heck. He felt his way forward through the dusty air. Birgit and Whisper followed cautiously, coughing.

“Heck!” Mickey shouted.

“Over here!” came a cry.

It was Bibby, pinned under a mound of brick and timber. Whisper and Birgit began moving masonry and debris to free him. Mickey continued his search. “Heck?” he yelled.

“Arrgh!”

It was Tweed, covered in dust and plaster. He had been thrown aside and was lying against the shattered beam, unable to stand because of his legs. “I think they're broken,” he moaned.

“Help's on the way.” Mickey left him. He'd survive. “Heck!” he yelled again.

And then he saw him. Heck's head and shoulders. The rest of him was pinned under the beam. He was quite still, his eyes closed.

Mickey climbed over the debris and crouched. He placed his fingers at Heck's throat, feeling for a pulse.

Nothing. He wiped dust and sweat from his face with the back of his hand and tried again. It was no good. Heck was gone.

Supper was spicy black beans and feta cheese with Mexican tomato salad. It was good, but Mickey wasn't hungry; he couldn't eat.

Nobody had spoken for several minutes.

It was the day after the accident.

Yesterday, the police had questioned him for an hour at police headquarters. And the others, of course, Birgit, Peter and Whisper. They were questioned separately. All the
parents had to be there. Mickey had Larry, who had just finished work. The others had their doctor and lawyer parents. The police let Mickey go. They said they were still investigating the incident and that charges might follow. Mickey hoped there would be charges. A spell in jail was exactly what he needed.

Then when he got home there had been a hundred more questions. Now they were finished. Now there was silence.

Mickey couldn't help noticing the glances everyone gave Heck's empty chair, especially young Sammy and Jimmy. The vacant space was like a gap in a fence.

Mickey asked Candy for the salt but she didn't seem to hear him. She hadn't looked at him since he got back from the police station. And she had taken no part in the question-and-answer session either. She looked numb.

Annie leaned over and passed Mickey the salt.

“Why doesn't someone say something?” Mickey couldn't keep it in any longer. He
knew they all despised him, but he couldn't endure their silence any longer; it was killing him.

Larry said, “Don't mind us, Mickey. We're missing Heck, that's all.”

“Don't you think I miss him too?” cried Mickey. Afraid he was about to burst into tears, he flung himself from the table and hurried up the stairs to his room. Which used to be Heck's room also.

A short time later there was a knock on the door. It was Larry. “Mind if I come in?”

He sat on the edge of Heck's bed and was silent for a while, his gray head bowed as he studied the knees of his blue jeans. Then he said, “We all liked Heck. Sammy and Jimmy loved him. Candy, too, I think. There was never any real harm in Heck. He didn't always understand everything that was going on around him. But who does? I can't make sense of the world myself. Heck just wanted to please everyone. If he was here right now, I know he wouldn't want you to feel bad about what happened. It wasn't your fault. It was an
accident. And Heck was doing what he liked to do best: he was playing a game. It was all a game to Heck. All of it just a big TV show with good guys and bad guys, with Heck one of the good guys. You see?”

“No, I don't see. I'm to blame, Larry. It
was
my fault. I asked him to come. He wouldn't have been there if it wasn't for me. Nothing you can say can change that.”

Larry came over and sat beside him. He looped an arm around Mickey's shoulders. “None of us can see the future, Mickey. You had no way of knowing Heck would do what he did. Or that the wood beam would collapse and the wall fall down. He would want you to get on with your life, I know that much.”

He stood and moved to the door. He paused. “The other two boys … ?”

“Tweed and Bibby.”

“How are they doing?”

“They'll be okay. Broken bones, that's all. They were lucky they didn't break their necks.”

“You still planning on staying with that Hit Squad of yours?”

Mickey shook his head. “No. The police said it was against the law. And Candy said what we were doing wasn't right. I see that now. The Hit Squad … it was wrong to go after people.”

“Candy's got a good head on her shoulders.”

“Yeah.”

“You want to come down and have your dessert?”

“I can't stand Candy not talking to me.”

“She feels bad. You could try talking to her, later maybe, privately.”

“What's for dessert?”

Larry frowned. “Some kind of pie Annie made. With ice cream.”

Some kind of pie. Anyone would think Larry didn't like Annie's pies, when in fact he couldn't get enough of them. Mickey didn't realize his cheeks were wet until he tried to crack a smile. “I'll be right down.”

When he got back to the dining room, Candy had already gone to her room. Sammy and Jimmy were on their second helping of
pie. Mickey decided he didn't want dessert after all. He wasn't hungry. He climbed the stairs and knocked on Candy's door. He heard her yell something so he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

“I said to stay out! I knew it was you.”

She was lying on her bed. She had been crying.

“I just want to say that I wish it had been me instead of Heck. Honest, Candy, I mean it.”

She sat up, angry, and crying again. “I wish it had been you, too! Heck was worth ten of you, Mickey!”

“Yeah. I know.” He looked around her room. It wasn't a place he had visited very much. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been here. Colorful posters on the walls. Her Walkman and a few CDs sat on the top of the dresser. And books. Lots of books.

“So would you mind leaving me alone?”

“I'm sorry, okay?”

She lay down again and closed her eyes.

He left, closing the door behind him.

The day was wrong for a funeral. Unusually warm, almost like a spring day. A rich smell of grass and newly turned earth. It seemed to Mickey a day for life, not death.

The minister, a tall, lean man in a black robe, spoke about Hector Marmaduke Coggin. Most of what he said was news to Mickey. Heck had lost his family—parents and two brothers—in a house fire when he
was a small child. Heck was the only survivor, rescued by a firefighter. But he suffered brain damage from the smoke, or from oxygen deficit.

The minister sprinkled a handful of dirt onto Heck's coffin. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” His voice carried easily across the small knot of mourners, the words dropping and mixing with the air and the earth and the wreaths of flowers.

Mickey listened to the words and thought about Heck. Heck didn't even go to Grand-view High, but he had been the one to die. If Mickey had listened to Candy, then Heck would still be alive today. Instead he lay in a box of dark polished wood, deep in the newly dug earth. It was hard for Mickey to accept the idea that while he continued with his life, poor old Heck would stay here in the ground, his short life finished.

The minister's words cut into his thoughts.

“… death. To God there are no dead, for in His sight the ones we call dead are still alive. They are still alive and cared for by
Him in His kingdom … ”

Mickey searched the faces of the other mourners around the graveside. Birgit was beautiful, her blonde hair contrasting with her stylish black wool suit. Peter and Whisper were not there. Candy, silent and wet-eyed, in jeans and dark sweater, stood holding a red flower in her hands. The sun behind her glowed off her dark curls to form a halo around her head. The Hobbits, who had been father and mother to Heck, were dry-eyed. But Mickey could see the pain lying deep in their eyes and along the clenched muscles of Larry's jaw.

Why had Peter and Whisper stayed away? Mickey asked himself. He didn't know the answer. Maybe their parents had forbidden them to come. Or maybe they didn't care enough. After all, Heck wasn't their friend.

But Mickey hadn't been much of a friend to Heck either. He had never taken the time to get to know the guy. Had been impatient with him most of the time. He remembered the way Heck was like a puppy, seeking affection.