The old station wagon shot ahead and unexpectedly, they were zooming along, faster and faster. Mother screamed at her father to stop. Sula’s stomach heaved and churned. She tried to be still, but before she could call out or roll down her window, she vomited right into her own lap, right into the pretty yellow dress she’d worn for the occasion.
Calix began to cry and yell at Daddy. Then it was over. The car slowed and they stopped on the side of the road. Mother helped her clean up with the jug of water they’d brought along to put in the radiator because it leaked. Daddy said he was sorry for scaring everyone. It was not first time she’d heard the apology. Nor would it be the last.
Sula pushed the memory aside before it triggered others. She had to stay focused, to keeping working the tape and be ready for any opportunity.
Chapter 36
Rudker turned on Willow Creek, then started watching for the road to the construction site. The entry wasn’t easy to spot in the dark. He missed it and had to turn around in the Prolabs’ driveway. He drove back, pulled in, and started down the gravel road. A hundred yards in, a metal gate loomed in his headlights. Rudker hit the brakes. Shit. When had that gone up? Shit. Shit. Shit. He couldn’t believe he didn’t know it was there.
He put the vehicle in park and walked up to the gate. It didn’t look particularly sturdy; he could probably run right through it. Nor would it present a problem to someone with a pair of bolt cutters. The construction people were probably just trying to keep teenagers from partying or four-wheeling on the site now that it was ready to build. Rudker ruled out crashing through the gate. He didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that someone had been on the property. Scratches to the front end of his rig would look suspicious too.
A six-foot, chain-link fence stretched out into the darkness on either side of the gate. Intuitively, he knew the fence didn’t surround the entire site. It most likely bordered only Willow Creek Road and Prolabs’ adjacent driveway. The rest of the property was open to the tree covered hillside.
The sound of a car coming up the road made Rudker feel exposed, standing there in the beam of his own headlights. He ran back to his big Jeep and climbed in. A quick look over the back seat to check on Sula. Her eyes were closed, but her head was moving. He wondered if she was praying. If so, she would be disappointed. He put the vehicle in reverse and backed out to the road. Rudker gunned the truck and raced up to the Prolabs’ driveway.
His short-lived mental peace exploded in a burst of rage. He hated being locked out. Hated it! It had happened to him over and over again as a kid because he couldn’t keep track of his house key. This was his property, damn it, and he would access it if he wanted to. He raced down Prolabs’ asphalt driveway, eyeing the fence that ran parallel about thirty feet behind the row of blooming shrubs.
He didn’t slow down until he entered the auxiliary parking lot. No cars were in sight. The IT guy had gone home. At the end of the asphalt, Rudker kept going. Then he veered left and drove through a small grove of willow trees. On the other side, the fence appeared directly in front of him. Rudker shut off his headlights. A half moon reflected enough light off the metal to keep him parallel to the chain link. The Commander rolled over the shrubs and bumpy terrain without much bounce. The fence ended abruptly about fifty feet later and Rudker came to a stop.
He decided not to drive onto the site itself. The Commander was big and heavy and would leave distinctive tire tracks in the wet dirt. In retrospect, it was a good thing the gate had been installed. It had kept him from making what could have turned out to be a serious mistake.
Rudker climbed out of the rig. The night had turned cool and he could hear the creek gurgling along the back of the property. The waterway was the only thing left on the ten acres that was still in its natural state. He took a leisurely piss, then opened the Jeep’s back door. He hoped he would be able carry Sula all the way to the back of the site where the factory would be built. He had the physical strength, but maybe not the stamina. Exercise had never been part of his lifestyle.
First he grabbed a flashlight from the jockey box. Before he could fit it into his pocket, the roll of duct tape had to come out. Rudker laid the tape on the front seat. He would toss it in a dumpster on his way home. Then he reached into the back storage area and pulled out the shovel he’d bought at Fred Meyer. He leaned the shovel against the truck, grabbed Sula by the ankles, and dragged her out. He would carry her as far as he could, then rest if he had to.
Robbie was unable to sleep. He’d dreamed for a while in a semi-wakeful state about going back to Prolabs, begging for his job, and being refused. In one dream sequence, his father came down from the executive suite into the factory to personally tell him to get lost. Each time, Robbie ran from the building and cycled away in shame.
Disturbed by the repeated dream rejections, Robbie got up and went out to the living room. He turned on the TV but couldn’t focus on any of the inane, middle-of-the-night programs. The shame of his dream stayed with him. He wished his mother would contact him. She always made him feel better about himself. Why hadn’t she returned his call? His father had been distant as ever.
Robbie felt himself sinking into despair but didn’t know how to stop it. The trial drug he was taking clearly wasn’t working for him, at least not yet. Some meds took a week or so to kick in. He would call the clinic tomorrow and tell them how he was feeling. Maybe he would drop out of the program and get back on the Zoloft.
In the mean time, getting a little nicotine into his system would probably help. It had in the past. Robbie looked for his cigarette pack but found it empty. He would have gladly walked the two blocks to the 7-11 store, but he didn’t have enough cash even for pack of generics. A trip to the ATM downtown was more of an effort than he had the energy for at this hour. He went out to the apartment’s tiny deck and looked through the cigarette can for a decent butt. They’d all been smoked to the nub. Robbie shivered in the cold night air. It was officially spring, but you’d never know it by the temperature.
He grabbed a jacket and his cell phone and headed out the front door. Maybe if he walked around the apartment complex he would run into someone and be able to bum a smoke. He didn’t believe he would get that lucky. It was three in the morning and even most students were in bed. The people who were still awake had better things to do than wander around outside. Yet on campus anything was possible.
Robbie headed upstairs. There was a group of apartments on the fourth level that always seemed to have a late party going.
Climbing the three flights of stairs took all his energy. He’d felt weak ever since his little overdose incident and tonight his legs felt like lead. The fourth floor was as quiet as the rest of the building. Not a single light could be seen behind the individual apartment blinds. Robbie was sorry he’d made the effort.
He remembered the guys in 404 often went up on the roof to smoke. They had nailed a couple of footholds to the side of the building at the end of the balcony. He’d seen them stand on the railing and use the footholds to push themselves onto the roof of the balcony. From there, it was short scoot up to the flat roof surface where he was sure find a stash of cigarettes, maybe even a little pot.
Robbie shuffled to the end of the balcony and stared down at the street below. From this height, if he fell while trying to get on the roof, he would definitely die. He wondered why he hadn’t thought of it the other night. If he had jumped instead of taking the stupid pills, it would be over now. There was no guesswork in jumping. And no one to stop him in the middle of a fall.