On the Other Side of the Bridge (8 page)

Lonnie once heard someone — Brother Elrod, maybe — say that confession is good for the soul. Perhaps it was time to come clean and finally tell the truth. His mother might not believe that he hadn't caused any of the destruction, but at least she could let Mr. Barnaby know he had been involved. That way, Mr. Barnaby wouldn't need to go to Wyatt Middle School, and Lonnie and Axel and Herman could avoid the embarrassment of being hauled off to jail, handcuffed, in front of everyone.

While he and his mother ate dinner, he thought of worse-case scenarios. They were kids, so he didn't think the police would put them in jail. But their parents would have to pay for the damages, even though he and Axel weren't responsible for any of it. After all, they couldn't
prove that they hadn't busted the windows and trashed the office.

Axel's parents would undoubtedly forbid their son from ever hanging out with
el vago
again. They would say Lonnie was a bad influence and that Axel needed to make other friends. Lonnie would be grounded for at least a month. His parents would take the TV out of his bedroom, and he wouldn't be able to leave the house for anything, except to go to school and church. As a personal punishment to himself, Lonnie decided he would remain in the sanctuary on Sunday mornings to hear Brother Elrod preach and not sneak off to Catfish Creek.

He completed the written portion of his book project without calling Axel for help. All he needed now was to redraw the cover for
The Dumfrees Move In
. He spread out colored pencils, crayons and markers on the kitchen table and had just begun sketching his picture when his mother came in to say goodbye.

“Be sure to tell your father about the meatloaf. It's in the fridge. And after he eats, tell him I said for him to put his dirty dishes in the dishwasher and to turn on the machine.”

Lonnie couldn't put it off any longer. She had to know the truth. On rubbery legs, he rose from his chair and said softly, “Mom, there's something I have to tell you.”

She glanced up at the wall clock. “Well, make it quick. I'm running late as it is.”

“It's about what happened at the paper company yesterday,” he said and swallowed hard.

“What about it?”

“Me and Axel and a kid named Herman … we were there.”

His mother regarded him coldly. “Are you telling me that you were the ones who vandalized the warehouse?”

“Not me. Or Axel. It was Herman … we call him Slurpee … who did all that stuff.”

“You broke into the warehouse?” she shrieked.

“Yeah, but me and Axel didn't do anything. Honest, Mom. We went inside the warehouse, but Slurpee … I mean, Herman, was the one who busted the windows. He was the one who—”

“You broke into the warehouse?” his mother repeated, seething with contempt. “I can't believe what I'm hearing!” She clapped her hands over her head. “My God, what's happened to you, Lonnie? You don't do anything in school. You don't help out around the house. You can't even keep your room clean. And now you're telling me you're out on the streets, vandalizing!”

“I didn't—”

“Are you on drugs?”

“Mom, it's not like that. I promise.”

She looked up at the wall clock again. “I can't talk about this right now. I have to go to work.”

“Let me call you on your cell and explain what happened.”

“No! I don't want to discuss this over the phone.” She looked at him disgustedly. “I don't know who you are anymore. I can't trust you. Everything that comes out of your mouth is a lie!” She sniffled and wiped away a tear. “I have to go.”

She stalked out of the house, ignoring the rain. In her anger, she had forgotten to take her umbrella.

“Be safe,” Lonnie whispered as he watched her leave.

After she was gone, he finished his book cover. Lonnie had a talent for drawing, and he had intended to design a really cool cover, with lots of details, but his heart was no longer in it. Anyway, he doubted Ms. Kowalski would give him extra credit for a well-drawn cover. The picture was the least important part of the project. It was something his teacher had assigned so the dummies in Progressive Reading could feel like they had accomplished something special.

At around ten, Lonnie's dad came home with his breath reeking of alcohol. Since he didn't mention anything about the Martex warehouse, Lonnie guessed that his mother was saving that bit of news for him until she returned home from work. He told him about the meat-loaf. His dad took it out of the fridge and zapped it in the microwave. Then he took his food to the den to eat while he watched TV.

With his project, as well as the rest of his homework finally finished, Lonnie packed everything in his backpack. He tried calling Axel on his cell to let him know that he had told his mother about the break-in but got no answer.

He wasn't ready to go to bed yet, so he went to the den to watch TV with his dad. He found him passed out on the couch, snoring loudly. His dad had been watching
I
(To Eat) NY
, a movie about a group of people who hole up inside the New York Public Library to escape an attacking mob of zombies.

On TV, the zombies walked aimlessly up and down the steps of the library, without any purpose other than to find food for their flesh-starved appetites. Other zombies crawled on top of the sculpture lions that graced the entrance.

The movie had been running on HBO, and Lonnie had already seen it, so he knew how it was going to end. The zombies would eventually break down the library doors and kill all the survivors inside. Axel was right. Zombie movies do tend to have the same basic plot.

Immediately following
I
(To Eat) NY
, a romantic comedy called
Begin Again, Again
came on. Lonnie turned off the TV and went to bed, leaving his dad asleep on the couch.

He dreamed he was back at the warehouse, running through the paper labyrinth. The guard-thing, with its decaying flesh, chased after him. But no matter how fast Lonnie ran, the guard-thing seemed to be directly behind him.

“La-a-a-a-ne-e-e-e!”
it called in a sickly voice.
“I'm gonna getcha, La-ne-e-e-e!”

Straight, then right, then left, Lonnie zigzagged. He looked back for a second. The guard-thing was nearly on top of him, opening and closing its jaws.

Left, right, left, left, Lonnie ran, gasping for air.

“I'm right behind you, La-ne-e-e-e!”

He could feel the guard-thing's hot breath, which smelled like rotten eggs, burning his neck. Faster he ran, faster, faster, until he felt he would collapse from exhaustion.

Up ahead he saw a bright, almost blinding light. He knew that if he could just reach it, he would be safe. With every ounce of strength left in his legs, he raced toward the light.

Suddenly, the guard-thing appeared in front of him, grinning a mouthful of yellow-brown, death teeth.

“Gotcha!”

With one hand, it seized him by his shirt. With the other, it pulled out its gun. Then Lonnie heard a shot.

“—shot!”

His eyes snapped open and he looked around, disoriented. The ceiling light was on, and his dad was standing next to his bed, shaking him.

“Lonnie! Wake up! Wake up! It's your mom. She's been shot!”

F
OR A SECOND,
L
ONNIE THOUGHT
he was still dreaming, but the look of horror on his dad's face told him otherwise.

“She caught a guy breaking into a car. He … he had a gun and … oh, God!” Lonnie's dad shuddered and began to sob. “Get your clothes on. We've gotta get to the hospital.”

Lonnie sat up in his bed, hardly believing what he was hearing. “Somebody shot Mom?”

“I'll tell you about it when we get in the car.” His dad grabbed Lonnie's pants and shirt from the floor and tossed them to him. “Come on, get dressed. We've gotta go!”

Lonnie hopped out of bed and put on his clothes. Outside his room, he could hear his dad talking on the phone.

“I don't know how bad she's hurt. She's been taken to Landry Memorial. Yeah, me and Lonnie are heading out there right now. Okay, see you there.”

They jumped in the Suburban and drove to the hospital, with Lonnie's dad ignoring the speed limits and traffic lights. At two o'clock in the morning, though, few cars were on the highway and there were no cops around.

On the way, Lonnie's dad explained that he had gotten a call from Clifford Jenkins, Lonnie's mother's
supervisor, who told him that while she was patrolling the parking lot, she spotted a man removing a stereo from a car, so she confronted him. Without warning, the man pulled out a gun and fired. She never had a chance to draw her weapon.

“Dad, Mom's going to be okay, isn't she?” Lonnie asked out of a dry throat.

“Yeah, 'course she is. Your mom's tough. She's gonna be fine. You … you'll see.”

Lonnie knew his dad was trying to reassure him, but he didn't sound convincing. He sniffled and wept so much, Lonnie was afraid he was going to wreck the car before they reached the hospital.

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at Landry Memorial and rushed to the emergency room triage desk.

“My wife is Rebecca Rodríguez,” Lonnie's dad told the nurse. “She's a security guard. She was shot. Where is she, and is she all right?”

The nurse looked up the name on her computer. Then she said, “I'm sorry, sir, but I can't give out that information. Please have a seat. Someone will come and talk to you shortly.”

“But she's my wife!” Lonnie's dad yelled, slamming his hand on the desk. “I have a right to know how she is.”

“Sir, please sit down,” the nurse said curtly. “Somebody will be with you in a moment.”

He glared at her, but she turned away and continued working. Realizing he wasn't going to get any more information out of her, he and Lonnie looked for a place to sit.

Lonnie couldn't believe how many people were in the emergency waiting room at that hour — fifty maybe. Many of them had their eyes closed and appeared to have been there a long time. A lady had her head bandaged up,
and she looked like she was wearing a turban. A guy was hunched over, holding his stomach and moaning. Another guy sitting in the row in front of them had his head tilted back. He smelled of alcohol and vomit.

Clifford Jenkins arrived a few minutes later. “How's Becky?” he asked.

“I don't know,” Lonnie's dad said. “That idiot nurse won't tell me nothing. How did she look to you, Cliff?”

Mr. Jenkins sat down. He stared at Lonnie, unsure whether he should say anything in front of him.

“Lonnie, go over there by the nurse's desk for a minute, would you?” his dad said.

“No, I want to hear about Mom.”

His dad hesitated, then nodded an
okay
to Mr. Jenkins.

“Becky was shot once at close range,” Mr. Jenkins said. “But she managed to radio me for help. When I found her, she was lucid enough to tell me what happened. She also gave me a description of the perp, which I've already shared with the police.” Mr. Jenkins cleared his throat, then continued. “She passed out soon after that, before the paramedics arrived.” He cleared his throat again. “I'm going to be real honest with you, Richard. Becky lost a lot of blood.”