Chapter 40

    

     It was the second Friday in August when Clay Hastings picked up his mail at the camp office.  He was hot, tired, and hungry.  He’d spent most of the day trimming grass and weeds around the buildings.  He was still supporting a drug and alcohol habit with his paycheck, but through the sheer desire to be reunited with his boys, Clay was also managing to save a little money.  In a few weeks he wanted to head for Minnesota.  He’d talked to an old high school buddy the other night who was a foreman at a paper mill.  Dave said he could give Clay a job come September when his summer college help returned to school for the year.

 

     With his mail in hand Clay climbed the wooden stairs to his room.  Andrew lived in the other small apartment this loft contained, but he was in the locker room at the present time, taking a shower and getting cleaned up for dinner. 

 

     Hastings plopped to the mattress on the iron twin bed that had been donated by a member of one of the churches.  Clay’s apartment was nothing more than one fourteen foot by fourteen foot square room that held an old green sofa, the bed, a dresser, a small closet, and a thirteen inch black and white TV set that resided on a cast-off end table.   Andrew’s room was exactly like it, though instead of a sofa he had a brown easy chair with a matching ottoman that hadn’t sold at some minister’s garage sale.

 

     Using his right thumb Clay slit open the three envelopes that had been set-aside for him when Tess sorted that day’s mail.  The first envelope contained a bill for his truck insurance.  The second one held a religious tract from the First Church Of Heaven.  How someone there got his name Clay didn’t know, but he supposed Tess or Monica had given it out.  The man shook his head with disgust while tossing that envelope aside.  The third envelope was thick and bulky.  Clay recognized the return address as being that of his brother-in-law’s legal office.

 

     Hastings wasn’t sure what to expect when he unfolded the documents the envelope contained, but it sure wasn’t what he read. 

 

     Proposal of the termination of his parental rights.

 

     No further contact with his children. 

 

     The legal right for his children to change their last name. 

 

     What?  They can’t do this!  They can’t do this to me!  They can’t keep my kids from me!

 

     A thin sheet of paper fell from the rest and landed in Clay’s lap. With shaking hands he unfolded it.  He immediately recognized Sue’s neat print.

 

 

 

     Dear Clay,

 

        There is little point in beating around the bush, so I’ll come straight to the purpose of this letter and the enclosed documents.  You have had challenges keeping a steady job since you came home from Vietnam, and are over a year behind in the monthly support payments the judge designated when we separated.  You have also made no effort to stay in contact with Jeremy and Jason since the day you left this house.  Our divorce will be final on August 30th.  I have met a man who adores the boys, and who wants to be my husband and their father.  Ken and I also plan on having children of our own; therefore, it will be much easier for Jeremy and Jason if we can go forward as a family with all of us sharing the same last name.  The boys already think of Ken as their father, so a legal adoption of the boys on his part will be the final step.  I ask that you sign the document Allan enclosed that will legally terminate your parental rights.  This means you can never see the boys again, but that hardly appears to be an issue with you.  It also means you will no longer be obligated to assist with their upbringing, which in turn means you will not owe me a monthly check for their support.  Obviously, given the circumstances since your departure, this is the best arrangement for all concerned.  Please sign the enclosed document and return it to Allan using the stamped and addressed envelope he included.  You’ll be notified when the divorce is final.

 

        Sue

 

 

     Clay shook his head with disbelief.

 

     “No.  No, they can’t do this!  They can’t do this to me!”

 

     But the trouble was, Clay knew they could.  He didn’t have the money to fight them, and Sue was right, he hadn’t sent her a support check in over a year now, and he hadn’t seen the boys since she kicked him out of the house.  But that last part wasn’t his fault.  She wouldn’t have let him back in if he’d got down on his knees and begged.  And as far as the money went - well, times had gotten tough.  He’d done the best he could by the kids until it came to a point that there was nothing left from each paycheck to mail to Sue. 

 

     Clay grabbed the documents and scrambled down the stairs.  He raced for the empty office where he tore desk drawers apart until he found a phone book.  He scanned the yellow pages, then started dialing.  If Clay had to call every lawyer in the state of California until he found someone who could help him he would.  Sue wasn’t going to take his kids.  He’d die before he’d let that happen.  He’d put a gun to his head and end his own life before he’d live to see the day his children carried another man’s last name.

 

 

_________________________

 

     Monica and Tess stood in the shadows of the small building.  They observed through a window as Clay trashed the office.  The phone cord was yanked from the wall and the desk cleared of its papers, folders, tape dispenser, and stapler.   Chairs were overturned, and in a last fit of temper, the typewriter was whipped across the room. 

 

     The angels watched when Clay stormed out the door.  He stomped toward the parking lot, then his truck engine came to life.  Gravel spun beneath tires as the truck fishtailed onto the road.  Monica’s eyes tracked the old vehicle until it was out of sight.

    

     “Will Mr. Hastings make the right decision, Tess?”

 

     “I don’t know, Angel Girl.”

 

     “If he’d just open his heart to the children here he’d find what he’s so desperately seeking.”

 

     “Yes, if he’d open his heart he would.  But if he continues to allow hate to fill his soul, not to mention if he continues to cloud his mind with liquor and drugs, then Clayton Thomas Hastings is on a path to self-destruction.”

 

     “Tess, do you think Mr. Hastings can ever be the father Shen Bo needs?”

 

     “Well, Monica, it’s true that Clay is Shen Bo’s daddy, but whether he can be the man that little boy needs in his life I can’t say.  Only Clay can decide that, and by the looks of things in that office it’s my opinion that Mr. Hastings is not exactly

up for the Father of the Year Award.”

 

     “That’s true, but he’s seen such difficult times since coming home from Vietnam.”

    

     Tess smiled at the younger woman.  “You have such a soft heart, Angel Girl, and that’s just what I like about you.  Nonetheless, many men have come home from Vietnam and been good husbands to their wives and good daddy’s to their children.  The war doesn’t give Clay an excuse to fail at those things, only Clay himself does that.”

 

     “But God can help him turn his life around.  God can lead him to Shen Bo.  With our help, of course.”

 

     “Yes, God can do all those things.  But first Clay has to hear what God is saying to him.  However; until he makes the decision to stop the drinking and the drugs, Clay ain’t gonna listen to nothin’ talking but his own stupidity.  God has given him the power of reason, just like He’s given that to all humans.  It’s up to Clay to use that power to make the right choices, rather than to keep making the wrong ones.”

 

     Tess sighed while motioning with one hand.  “Come along, Angel Girl.  Looks like we got ourselves an office to clean up.”

 

 

Chapter 41

 

     The scream of the whistle pierced Johnny’s slumber.  He tossed restlessly on the mattress, flipping right and then left, right and then left, before settling on his back once again.  Perspiration beaded on his forehead and trickled down his temples in crooked paths.  The whistle sounded again.  Closer now.  Louder.  Powerful.  Terrifying.

 

     “Well, Johnny my man, if you be wantin’ my advice,” James stopped in mid-sentence.  “What the hell. . .”  He looked at the crumpled bus floor.  It was vibrating beneath his feet.  “What the hell is going on?”

 

     “It’s a train!” Rich screamed, his eyes wide as he stared out the shattered windows.  “A train is coming!”

 

     “Run!  Run!     Run, dammit!  Run!”

 

     As had happened for so many nights now when the train passed through Heaven, Johnny’s body shot from the mattress.

 

     “Run!  Run!”

 

     And as had happened for so many nights now as well, the paramedic shouted one final terror-filled “Ruuuuun!” before screaming himself awake. 

 

     Johnny sat in the dark gasping for breath, knowing exactly what would happen next.  Shen Bo climbed in bed with him.  He felt a small hand pat his back.

 

     “You okay now, Misser Honey.  Dream over.  You okay now.”

 

     Johnny slowly eased himself back to his pillow, Shen Bo moving with him.  Though the paramedic would never admit it out loud, least of all to Tess, John’s stay at this camp had done nothing but benefit him.  Physically he was much stronger and healthier than he had been when he arrived four weeks ago.  Emotionally and mentally - well, thanks to the children, and days filled with activities that kept Johnny’s mind off other worries, he was doing much better, too.  It was just that damn train coming through every morning at three a.m. that brought back unpleasant memories and prompted terrifying nightmares.  He rarely noticed the whistle during the day when trains passed by, but at night, when it was quiet and still, the sound of that lonely whistle blowing was a reminder to Johnny of the ten lives lost back in May.  It was as though the whistle was mourning the passing of James, and Rich, and Shannon, and the seven other young men who had died so tragically, while for some reason, John Gage was allowed to go on living.

 

     A quiet voice broke the night’s silence. 

 

     “Why you scared of train, Misser Honey?”

     Johnny’s answer was spoken softly as well, in deference to the eleven boys in the cabin who were still sleeping.

 

     “I’m not scared.”

 

     “You are.  Every night train come by, you have bad dream.  You scream.  It scare you.”

     So Shen Bo had tied the two occurrences together.  The train coming through and Johnny’s nightmares.  The paramedic couldn’t say he was surprised.  The boy was intelligent and perceptive both.  Not to mention that he’d seen more tragedy in his seven years on this earth than most people witnessed in a lifetime.

 

     “I. . .”  Johnny turned on his side so he was facing Shen Bo.  “Remember when you asked me how I hurt my leg?”

     “Yes.  You say you have accident.”

 

     “I did.  I mean, I was in an accident of sorts.”

 

     “What happen?”

    

     “I was helping some men. . .American soldiers, to get out of a bus that had been hit by a train.  Then a second train came along and hit the bus.  All the men. . .they died.  They were. . .they were killed by the impact of the second train slamming into the bus.  I. . .I tried to get them out, but I couldn’t.

I. . .I remember realizing another train was coming and telling them to run.”  Johnny had no conscious knowledge of the fact that the way he was relaying the events of that day were exactly how he’d relay them to Roy if he ever chose to talk about this subject with his best friend.  The paramedic also had no conscious knowledge that this telling of that horrid day was actually a part of the healing process he needed to go through.  “I told them to run and I pushed them toward a hole in the floor.  Or at least I think I did.  Maybe I pushed them toward the back door.  I can’t really remember.  I’m not even sure now if the back door still opened.  But at that time it didn’t matter.  I was just trying to get them out.  Only. . .only I couldn’t.  Not even one of them, let alone all ten.  They. . .they died.  They died and I lived.  I. . .I was hurt.  I was hurt pretty bad.  Dixie. . .she was with me for a long time until the guys. . .my friends from the fire department, were able to get me out.  If it wasn’t for Dix. . .well, if it wasn’t for her I probably would have died, too.”

 

     “She make you better?”

 

     Johnny looked into the dark eyes that held both curiosity and sympathy.   

 

     “She gave me medical care that allowed me to live until I got to the hospital.  And just by Dixie being there with me it made a big difference.”

 

     “Dickie help you not be scared?”

     “Yes.  Yes, that was a large part of it, Shen Bo.  Dixie staying by my side helped take some of my fear away.”

 

     “Dickie good friend to Misser Honey.”

    

     “She sure is.”

 

     “Shen Bo glad you forgive Dickie and not be angry at her anymore.”

 

     “I’m glad I forgave her, too.”

 

     The boy rubbed a comforting hand up and down Johnny’s forearm while his brows knit together in thought.  When he finally spoke, Shen Bo offered his assumption of what was really troubling John Gage.

 

     “Misser Honey, you have bad dreams not ‘cause train whistle scare you, but ‘cause you feel bad American soldiers die.  You think you fault soldiers die.  You think you should die with soldiers.  Shen Bo feel same way long time after Mother die.  Shen Bo think his fault Mother die.”

 

     “But you were just a little boy, kiddo.  Only four years old and--”

 

     “No matter.  Little boy or big boy.  Feelings inside same.  Hurts you heart no matter if you young or old.  But things no stay bad forever, Misser Honey.  Look at Shen Bo.  I get come to America where I get lots good food and lots clothes.  Even shoes.  I no have shoes in Vietnam.   I eat ice cream in America. I go to fair, and fire ‘partment, and zoo, and pretty soon I go live with my father.  I will be good son and Father love me very much.  I will always miss Mother, but it be okay.  I will be happy with Father.  Mother be proud of me ‘cause I will do all she teach me.  Did you do all you were teached when you in bus with American soldiers?”

 

     “If by that you mean did I put all my skills as a paramedic to use - yes, Shen Bo, I did.”

 

     “Then that good.  You do right thing, Misser Honey.  Shen Bo see lots people die in Vietnam.  Sometimes good people die and bad people live.  Sometimes bad people die and good people live. Sometimes both die.  Mother always say to Shen Bo, be good and do you best.  You good man, Misser Honey, and you do you best.  You have to feel that inside you heart.  When you do, bad dreams stop.  Ask Shen Bo.  He know.”

 

     The child’s philosophy seemed so simple on the surface, yet once Johnny took the time to examine it, he had to admit there was an abundance of truth to Shen Bo’s words.  Not that those words produced instant healing - far from it.   But maybe, just maybe, they were a place to start.

 

     Johnny smiled down at the sleeping boy.  He ran a light hand over Shen Bo’s hair. 

 

     “Thanks, Shen Bo,” the paramedic whispered.  “You’re a good friend to Mr. Honey.  A very good friend.”

 

 

Chapter 42

 

     Clay Hastings slunk from the locker room on Saturday morning. He headed for his home above the maintenance shed, staying in the shadows of the buildings as he swayed on shaky legs.  He was to drive a busload of the kids into town today for some kind of shindig the First Church of Heaven was holding.  A picnic and ice cream social maybe?  A carnival of some sort?  A festival to celebrate something or another?   Clay couldn’t remember.  He’d been pretty wasted the night before when Tess came to the bottom of the stairs that led to his loft apartment. She didn’t intrude on his private space, but rather shouted instructions from below.  He was to be in the parking lot at ten a.m. sharp, and he was to be clean.  Showered, shaved, and wearing a fresh uniform. Clay didn’t argue with her.  For one thing, he was too high to be able to voice coherent thoughts.  For another, he didn’t give a shit about anything any longer.  He mumbled a, “Yes, Ma’am,” then listened until he heard Tess walk away.  After that, he swallowed more booze and more pills, hoping the combination would take the pain away.

 

     Clay hadn’t been able to find a lawyer that would help him fight Sue unless he came up with a thousand bucks.  And that was just to start.  All the attorneys Clay talked to told him it would cost several thousand dollars in legal fees before the matter was resolved.  And even at that, there was no guarantee Clay could keep Sue from severing his parental rights.  A thousand bucks. Clay only had one hundred and fifty saved.  That was a long way from a thousand.  And even more so now since he’d spent that one hundred and fifty last night on alcohol, drugs, and one other item. 

 

     When the attorneys had proven to be no help Clay contacted the Department Of Veteran’s Affairs.  The woman he talked to practically laughed at him over the phone.  She told Clay she wasn’t sure how he thought Veteran’s Affairs could help him, and advised him to see a lawyer.  She’d been rude and patronizing, and Clay told her to go to hell before slamming the phone down.  He was so enraged he’d torn apart the camp’s office then.  He had fought for this country.  He’d done two tours of duty in Vietnam when only one was required of him.  He’d volunteered for the second tour even though he missed his wife and little boys like crazy.  But the signing bonus had been good, and the additional money from his promotion to sergeant another plus.  Clay had a young family at home to support.  He did what he thought was the right thing for himself, his family, and his country, and naively assumed that someday, if he needed a favor in return, his country would be there for him.  But now he understood what it was all about.  You hump the boonies for twenty-six months, and if you’re lucky enough to survive you get sent you home with a pat on the back and a “Thanks, soldier,”  and then American washes its hands of her fighting man.  Clay was going to lose his children and no one cared.  His name was going to be taken from Jason and Jeremy.  Soon they’d have a new life, and as the years went by, have no memory of their old one, or of the father who loved them so much. 

 

     Clay trudged up the stairs to the loft.  There was so little left worth living for.  He’d even bought a gun last night from the guy who supplied him with the drugs.  Murphy - Clay’s supplier, didn’t ask what he intended to use the gun for and Clay didn’t offer.  He supposed Murph didn’t care.  It was just money to him.  Hell, Clay wasn’t even sure what he planned to use the gun for.  Maybe he’d kill himself.  Maybe he’d take some people with him.  Maybe he’d simply turn around and sell it to someone else and make a few bucks in profit.

 

     The man fell to his couch.  Ten o’clock was an hour away yet.  That was just enough time to sail off on a good high.  Though he was normally careful about avoiding booze and drugs when he was driving for fear Tess would detect something odd about his behavior, Clay didn’t have to worry about it today.  He knew she’d be riding the bus Andrew was driving.  Besides, he had plenty of breath mints and Visine.  Those things might not hide the effects of his habits, but they did, somewhat, hide the symptoms.

 

     Clay popped a handful of pills and washed them down by taking a long swig from a bottle of Jack.  He picked up Sue’s letter and read it again.  By now he had it memorized.  Clay cried when he came to the part where Sue said she’d met another man who was going to be her husband and the boys’ father.  He tried to stop his tears before they crescendoed to gut-wrenching sobs, but he couldn’t. 

     Hastings groped for the gun that was hidden under the sofa.  He laid it in his lap, swallowed another handful of pills, and chased them down with whiskey. All the while Clay sobbed for the loss of his wife, the loss of his children, and the way his country had forgotten him.

 

 

Chapter 43

    

     The entire camp was bustling with activity that Saturday morning.  Half of the children were made to assist in the kitchen after breakfast where picnic baskets were being packed, while the rest of them loaded the buses with baseball bats, baseballs, mitts, and anything else they wanted to take to the First Church of Heaven.  The church was holding a picnic in honor of the Vietnamese orphans.  The other churches that helped support A Little Bit Of Heaven campground would have members of their congregations at the picnic as well.  There would be sack races, three legged races, wheel-barrow races, and water balloon fights, along with plenty of food.  Dixie had been told it was likely the entire town would be present.  Ice cream and strawberry shortcake were the featured desserts, along with anything else the church ladies brought to add to the sweet table. 

 

     As usual, Johnny had seen to it that Dixie’s girls and his boys would ride together on one bus.  Dixie lagged behind the kids as they charged for the vehicle.  Little things, like this simple picnic, made them so happy.  Since arriving at the camp Dixie had come to realize how much most Americans took for granted.  The freedom to hold a picnic for one thing.  The freedom to hold it without worrying about a grenade landing in your lap while you ate another.

 

     The nurse carried a wicker picnic basket by the handles.  Johnny would be following with the second basket as soon as the kitchen staff handed it to him.  While the children boarded the bus through the hinged side door, Dixie popped the handle on the rear exit so she could place the basket on the floor behind the left back seat.  She and Johnny had agreed they’d leave the two rear seats empty and use them for the picnic baskets and baseball equipment. The children already had the seats piled high with the latter mentioned paraphernalia.

 

     Excited jabbering swelled from the bus as the kids talked about the day’s event.  They were eager to get going and join their friends at the church.  The other two buses had just pulled out of the parking lot.  Andrew was driving one of them, and a male counselor was driving the other.  The children didn’t pay any attention to Dixie as she lifted the basket up to the bus’s floor and pushed it to the left.  She shut the door but didn’t latch it, knowing Johnny would be coming along in a minute with the remaining basket.  When she stepped back and into a lean body, she assumed the paramedic had arrived.

 

     “You’re here already?  There’s room to put your basket on top of the one I brought.  The kids did a pretty good job of packing things in a halfway organized manner. Here, let me--”

 

     Dixie gasped when two hands grabbed her breasts and squeezed.  She was spun around so quickly she stumbled over her tennis shoes. 

 

     “You’re a very beautiful woman, you know that?  I thought so since the day you showed up.”

 

     The nurse struggled to free herself from the leering man.  “Let me go!”

 

     “And if I don’t?”

     “Let me go now.”

 

     “But what if I don’t wanna let you go?”  One of Clay’s hands slid from Dixie’s breasts to the waistband of her jeans, while the other held her against his body.

 

     Before the situation could escalate two hands slammed against Clay’s shoulders.  Like Dixie had been, the man was spun around.  A fist slammed into his jaw, its force throwing Clay into the bus.  Before a second fist could land in the man’s mid-section Dixie cried, “Johnny, that’s enough!  Leave him alone!”

 

     “Dix--”

    

     “Johnny, the kids.  Please.  That’s enough.”

 

     Johnny looked up to see a mass of faces pressed against the windows.  The children stared with open mouths at the violence they’d just witnessed.  Little Shen Bo had squeezed through the crowd and had his face smashed against the rear door, attentively watching every move the paramedic made.   

     John looked from the kids to Dixie. 

     “Please, Johnny,” the nurse requested one last time.  “Please.”

 

     Johnny shook his head as he took a step back.  Hastings pushed himself to his feet and scrambled for the front of the bus. 

 

     “Dixie, you can’t let him get away with this.  Aside from what he just did to you, this camp is filled with other women and little girls.  Who knows what the guy will pull next.”

 

     “I don’t intend to let him get away with it.  But for now. . .well, let’s just get on the bus.  The kids are ready to go.  I don’t want to disappoint them by causing a delay.”

 

     “A delay?  Dix, that guy might have raped you if I hadn’t come along when I did.”

 

     “I realize that.  And as soon as we get to the church I’ll pull Tess aside and talk to her.  I’m sure she can point me in the direction of the local sheriff.  I’ll file a report on Hastings.”

 

     “I’m gonna tell Tess to fire him, too.  He’s got no business being around these kids.”

 

     “I agree. But for now let’s get on the bus.  He’s not going to hurt anyone with you on board, and whenever we go on a trip he just stays on the bus and sleeps anyway, so I doubt he’ll hightail it before I get a chance to tell Tess what happened.”

 

     “He won’t be hightailing it anywhere, because I don’t plan on taking my eyes off him until this is settled.”

 

     “Fair enough,” Dixie agreed.  “Now come on.  Let’s get going.”

 

     Johnny picked up the picnic basket he’d dropped when he punched Hastings.  The top was latched, so none of the contents spilled. He opened the rear door and told the kids to move back to their seats, then put the basket on top of the one Dixie had previously loaded. 

 

     “You let Misser Hastings have it, Misser Honey.”

 

     “Yeah, Shen Bo, I did.  Now go sit down.”

 

     “Why he wanna hurt, Dickie?”

 

     “It was just a mistake on his part, Bo.  Now go sit down.  Dixie and I will be on the bus in a second.”

 

     The boy did Johnny’s bidding as the paramedic shut and latched the emergency exit.  As John turned to grasp Dixie’s elbow and guide her to the side door, she rose to her tip-toes and kissed his cheek.

     “Thank you.”

 

     Johnny smiled at the nurse. “No need for thanks.  For one thing, I owe you more than a few favors.  For another, there isn’t anyone who’s gonna hurt you when I’m around.”

 

     Despite what had just happened to her, Dixie basked in the man’s words.  They spoke more about his deep sense of love and friendship for her than he’d ever revealed before.

 

     Johnny walked behind Dixie as they climbed the bus steps.  He glared at Hastings as he passed, but the look was lost on the man.  Clay averted his face and stared out the side window.  His nostrils were flared and his breath came in short, angry pants, but neither Johnny nor Dixie noticed.  The final insult of the day was being rejected by that old broad.  Well, no woman was ever going to reject Clay Hastings again.  He’d see to that.

 

     Dixie sat with two of her little girls in the empty seat directly ahead of the picnic baskets.  Johnny sat with Shen Bo three seats behind Hastings.

 

     The bus wasn’t out of the parking lot before the kids started singing.  Dixie joined in, but Johnny remained quiet and observant.  He let his guard down a bit after they’d traveled two miles without incident.  He half turned in his seat to watch as the kids performed all the motions to one of their favorite songs, The Wheels On The Bus.  He even laughed when they added a new verse while shaking their index fingers as though they were scolding someone.

 

     “Dickie say Misser Honey behave youself!  Behave youself!  Behave youself! Dixie say Misser Honey behave youself, all around the town.”

 

     When Johnny felt the bus stop he assumed they’d arrived at the church.  It wasn’t until he started to stand that John realized they were still a mile out of Heaven.  The bus’s engine had been shut off, and it was now sitting on the middle of the train tracks.  Hastings was out of his seat and blocking the front exit.  Johnny’s eyes were immediately drawn to the gun in the man’s right hand.

 

     Hastings stared at the paramedic. “Sit down!”

 

     “Look--”

 

     The gun was pointed at Johnny’s head.   “I said sit down!”

 

     “All right, all right.  I’m sitting.”

 

     “That’s better.”

 

     The children shrank back with terror.  Some screamed, some cried, while others were too frightened to make a sound.  Shen Bo leaned into Johnny while staring at the wild-eyed man who was holding his passengers hostage.

 

     “You got a bus load of twenty-four scared kids here,” Johnny said.  “What do you want?”

    

     Hastings threw his head back and laughed.  “What do I want?  I want my wife.  I want my kids.  I want these kids to shut up!  I want them to go away.  Every time I look at them all I see is what I lost!  It’s because of them I’ll never see my twins again!”

 

     Johnny didn’t bother to ask the man what these children had to do with not seeing his own kids again.  All he cared about right now was ending the situation before Hastings started shooting.

 

     “I’m sorry about that.  About your children.  But I can get you help.”

    

     “Help?  How can you get me help?”

 

     “I’m a paramedic.  I know people who can help you.”

 

     “Unless you know a good lawyer who works for free, you can’t help me, Mr. Paramedic.”

 

     “I know a lot of people.  I might be able to find a lawyer for you.”

 

     “Might don’t cut it, pal.  I don’t have time for might.  She’s gonna take my kids away from me.  They’re gonna take away my parental rights.  Do you know what that means?”  Clay’s voice had risen with each word until he was shouting, “Do you?  Huh, do you?”

 

     “Yes, I do,” Johnny said quietly while Dixie attempted to calm the children sitting near her.  “And I’m sorry.  I really am.  But hurting these children won’t change what’s happening to you.”

 

     “Yes it will!  It’ll make a statement.”

 

     “What kind of a statement?”

 

     “It’ll let them know they shouldn’t screw with a vet!  They shouldn’t give the shaft to someone who served his country!  It’s too late to help me, but maybe I can help someone else.”

 

     “Maybe.  But don’t you think--”

 

     Johnny stopped speaking when he heard it.  A train whistle. 

 

     Oh shit.  Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.  Not again.  I’m not going to let this happen again.

 

     The kids heard the whistle, too.  They started to whimper and grow restless in their seats.

 

     “Let us off this bus, man.”

     “No.”

 

     “Come on, man!  The train’s coming.  Let us off!”

 

     “You think I give a shit?  It’ll be easier than shootin’ all of you. Besides, I don’t have enough bullets for everyone.”

 

     The whistle sounded again.  Closer this time.  Johnny started to stand.

    

     “Let us off.”

 

     “Sit down!”

    

     “I said, let us off!”

 

     “And I said sit down!”

 

     The best thing that could have happened then did.  The children panicked.  Six boys sitting in the first two seats charged for the front door.  Before Hastings had time to aim his gun Johnny launched from his seat.  He tackled the man around the waist and drove him into the steering wheel.  The paramedic grabbed the handle that opened the hinged door.  He threw it backwards, shouting at the kids, “Run!  Get off!  Run!  Run!”

 

     Hastings bucked against the paramedic.  As the two men grappled for possession of the gun Johnny screamed, “Dixie, get these kids off of here!  Hurry!  Get them off!”

 

     The train whistle sounded again as Dixie popped the latch on the emergency exit.  She jumped to the ground, kids scrambling behind her like ants fleeing for their hill.  She stretched her arms up to lift the smaller children down and to help those using crutches.  She shooed them all toward a distant grassy clearing on the side of the road.

 

     “Go!  Run!  Get as far away from here as you can!  Run!”

 

     The kids helped one another. They clasped hands and fled to where Dixie indicated.   More children poured from the front of the bus.  Dixie pointed and screamed, “Run!  Follow the others!  Hurry!  Hurry!”

 

     Dixie looked up when she heard the piercing whistle.  She couldn’t see the train yet, but she knew it was only a matter of seconds before it arrived.  The bus was empty now save for Johnny, Clay Hastings, and Shen Bo.  The boy was in the middle of the men, trying to help the paramedic.

 

     “Shen Bo, come on!”  Dixie