The Past III Part 4

The Past III
Part 4

November 19th, 1982

Home. Life in the warehouse was unlike any home Dan had ever experienced. Sometimes it was noisy enough to rouse the dead, the music echoing through the building, the alcohol flowing and the boys in the main areas laughing and fighting and running down the hall to visit with Dan. Other times were quiet as a tomb as he lay on the smelly mattress, alone in the dark and listening to water leaking from the pipes, and the rats scratching in the walls.

For the first two weeks, he barely moved from his spot on the floor. Moving hurt. Breathing hurt. He probably would have drowned in his own snot or starved to death without even caring, if it hadn’t been for Luke. Luke was by his side in the middle of the night with a drink of water and a pain pill. Or two. Sometimes three. Luke dragged him to the toilet. Luke brought him warm soup, bologna sandwiches, and buckets of cherry Kool-Aid. Luke forced him to cough up the phlegm that threatened to fill up his lungs. After the first couple of days, Dan stopped asking why and just accepted the care.

When the old doctor returned at the end of week three, Dan was able to sit up on his own, and the doctor’s touch--while not gentle--was tolerable.

“You seem to be doing pretty well.” The old man poked around Dan’s chest a little more. “That hurt?” he asked.

“Yes...sir, but not too much.” Dan flinched slightly as the rough hands moved over his bruised skin.

“That’s good. How’s the breathing?”

“Hurts. But at least I can do it.”

The doctor laughed. “That’s good. It’s nice to see you still have a sense of humor.” He re-taped the ribs, and moved on to Dan’s hand. “Fingers are mending too. You got lucky, kid. I expect you’ll be stiff and sore for a while, but I think you’re over the hump.” He looked shrewdly at the boy. “I can get you another week, maybe two, but I think your friendly leader is getting impatient with playing nursemaid.”

Dan hesitated, his mind in turmoil. The doctor finished wrapping the fingers, and said, “I’ll tell him nothing heavy for another two weeks. After that, it’s up to you. Keep everything wrapped, and maybe he won’t press you too much.”

The door was thrown open, and a burst of heavy metal music bounced off the walls. Luke sauntered in, slamming the door behind him, dulling the music to a low throb. “What’s the verdict, Doc?” he asked.

“Getting there.” The reply was gruff. “He needs some more time before he starts doing much. Ribs heal slowly, and I think you bruised him up pretty bad on the inside. Couple more weeks should do it.”

Luke scowled. “You sure? I was hoping he’d be back up and around faster.”

“You should have thought about that before you broke him.” The doctor spoke calmly as he packed up his things. “You can keep taking the aspirin, kid, and you can start moving around a little more. Just be careful. You do too much, too soon, and you’ll end up making it worse. Comprehend?”

“Yes, sir,” Dan answered.

“Call me if he gets worse. Otherwise, don’t bother.” The old man glared at Luke as he opened the door and disappeared into the melee. Luke flipped him the bird and slammed the door a second time. He looked worried.

“Sorry,” Dan broke the silence.

Luke’s face softened slightly. “Aw, don’t worry about it. It’s just that...some of the boys are wondering when you’re gonna be back out there,
pulling your share.”

“I can go now,” Dan said, struggling to his feet. “What’s that old boozer know anyway?” He held his left arm tightly against his rib cage, panting with the exertion.

“Sit down before you fall down.” Luke began to pace. “It’s just, the boys, they think you’re slacking. I think it’s best if you stay away until you can handle them.”

“Where am I supposed to go?” Dan asked, still on his feet and swaying slightly.

“I. Said. Sit. Down.” Luke was back in Dan’s face, his eyes darkening; his breath sickly sweet with weed residue. Slowly, Dan sank back down on the mattress. Luke backed off, satisfied. “You’ll stay here. I can lock off this room and keep everyone out. You get better, I let you out.”

“You aren’t going to lock me in here?” Dan looked around the room. It was dark and cold, and water leaked onto the floor.

“It’s for your own good, Manny.” Luke looked around. “The doc said to keep quiet for a couple more weeks. Here’s as good as anywhere else. Here, you’re safe. There’s a lock, and I’ve got the key.”

“What am I supposed to do in here?” Dan tried to push down the panic.

“Heal. Get strong again,” Luke told him. “I’ll keep food coming, you’ve got water and stuff in here. You make yourself better, and figure out how you’re gonna bring in some loot.”

“Luke, wait!” Dan protested. “I can contribute, honest. I’ll think of something.”

“Not yet, Danno. I need you full strength.” Luke turned the door handle. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” Dan watched, torn between gratitude and terror as Luke left the room, sliding the dead bolt home from the outside.

November 24, 1982

Dan had been isolated from everyone but Luke for five days. Night time, day time, he had no idea which was which as he sat, holed up in his windowless room, the dim bare bulb in the center of the ceiling his only light. True to his word, Luke brought food and paper packets of drink mix, along with pain pills. Always, there were the pills. Luke insisted on them, but Dan began to hate the way the little white tablets messed with his mind. He took to palming them and feigning sleep.

Dan never was sure when Luke would arrive. His entire sense of time was skewed; sometimes it seemed as though days passed between visits, sometimes less than an hour. Often, Luke would sit with him for a time, talking about the things that were going on with the gang, loading and unloading his pistol. Just as often, Luke would dump the food and be gone. Dan never knew what to expect, and he fast became dependent on Luke’s visits to keep from going completely crazy.

All was quiet in the warehouse. The lock sounded and the door squealed as Luke pushed it open. Dan blinked rapidly as light streamed in. “How you doing, buddy?”

“Better.” Dan sat up, trying not to wince. “Really. I just need some air and exercise, and I’ll be one hundred percent.”

“I think I can arrange that.” Luke turned and walked away, leaving the door open. Dan hesitated for a moment, unsure if Luke was really inviting him out into the larger room. He decided to risk it, and pushed himself out of his makeshift cell, following Luke down the dark hallway.

“You remember Carlton?” Luke asked, gesturing to the figure in the corner.

“Yeah. I think so.” Dan spoke cautiously.

“Good. Carlton here has a job for you.” Luke grinned at Dan. “If you manage it, I’ll believe you’re ready to come back.”

“Okay.” Dan looked at the man in the shadows. “What do you want me to do?”

Carlton stepped out of the shadows and pushed his sweatshirt hood back, revealing his face. He was older than Dan would have thought, with a tattoo of a sword piecing a heart on his right cheek. He held out a small paper bag. “Here,” he said. “Take this bag to this address.” He handed Dan a slip of paper. “Give it to Taz. Only to Taz.”

“Okay,” Dan said again.

“Good. Then, when you leave, bring me a ride.”

Dan swallowed hard. “Okay.” He tried to put a cocky look on his face. “Any particular color?”

“Blue. Bring me blue,” Carlton said.

“Blue it is.” Dan turned to Luke. “Uh, Luke, do you know where my shoes and jacket are?”

“Jacket’s on the hook. Your shoes are long gone, but I’ve got something for you. Here.” Luke reached behind his chair and pulled out a pair of shiny black, pointy-toed cowboy boots. “These might be a bit big, but they’ll get you there in style.”

“Thanks.” Dan slid his feet into the boots. They felt odd, but not uncomfortable. He pulled his jacket off its hook, and pulled it on slowly, moving as little as possible. Without looking back, he slipped out into the cold.

The address was easy to find; the ratty apartment building behind Jake’s, second door on the left. Dan was out of breath by the time he arrived, and he took a moment to rest himself before knocking.

A frumpy looking woman with frizzed out blond hair answered his knock. She looked at him with bleary eyes. “Whaddya want? It’s two fricking o’clock in the morning!”

Dan sneered. “I need Taz.”

“Taz is sleepin’.”

“I have something for Taz. Only for Taz.” Dan set his jaw and refused to move.

“Fine.” She thumped back into the apartment. A moment later, a shirtless, skinny bald guy in saggy boxers stumbled to the door. He had a capital T tattooed under his left nipple, and a Tasmanian devil tattoo over the right.

“I’m Taz. Who are you, and what do you want?”

“Carlton sent this.” Dan reached slowly into his pocket and pulled out the sack, holding it out to the man.

The man took the sack and looked inside. He grinned at Dan. “Thanks,” he said. He stepped back and slammed the door. Dan stood on the step, not sure what to do next. Before he could decide, the door opened again and Taz thrust a thick envelope at him. “For Carlton,” Taz said, and then the door slammed again.

Dan tucked the envelope inside his jacket with a feeling of distaste. “I just did a drug deal.” The thought ran through his head and settled, with a lump of guilty bile, in the pit of his stomach. Every part of his body hurt, and it was going to take a miracle to find a blue car. Silently, Dan cursed himself for his cockiness. Holding his arm tightly against his aching side, he tottered back out to the street.

There, parked haphazardly behind Jake’s, was his miracle: A Ford Thunderbird. A blue Ford Thunderbird. Dan, scarcely believing his luck, leaned against the car, and peered through the window. Looking around, he saw no one. Quickly he jimmied the lock and slid inside. Resting for a moment, he bent down and popped out the ignition, his fingers working the wires, hoping for a spark.

Luke wanted to pace...or light up another joint. Only the presence of Carlton, standing calm and still in the shadows, kept him from taking either action. Dan had been gone nearly an hour, and Luke was starting to wonder if the kid was coming back. Carlton had been almost friendly these last two weeks. He had shown Luke a lot of tricks, and Luke was pretty sure he didn’t want Carlton to turn those tricks on him.

Dan should have been back by now. Luke stood to lose a lot if the kid had been snowing him. He’d thought he had Manny harnessed this time. That whole good cop/ bad cop routine that Carlton had tried to teach him had worked. He was sure it had. He hoped he wasn’t wrong.

The door opened, and Dan stumbled in, holding his side. He crossed to Carlton and silently held out an envelope. Carlton took the envelope and opened it. He nodded, and asked, “Where’s my ride?”

“Right outside the door,” Dan told him, breathing hard. “Blue T-bird. Enjoy it.” He turned away, limping towards Luke. “Well?” he asked.

“Welcome back, Manny.” Luke smacked Dan on the shoulder. “Welcome back.”

Dan grinned halfheartedly. He had passed the test--this time.

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