“Sort of. He was nothing like Dugan, and I didn’t love him— but he was there and Dugan wasn’t, and one night we ended up together in the back of his Mustang.”
“You got pregnant?”
“No, nothing like that. We used protection, even back then. But two of Dugan’s friends saw us, and they wrote to him and told him about it. After that, he stopped writing to me. He— he never came back home.”
“I did two tours of duty, just to get her out of my head.” Dugan sighed. “But it didn’t work. When I got out, I came home to a country that I no longer recognized. I flew from ’Nam to Hawaii, then from there to San Francisco. I was supposed to change planes in California and fly to Baltimore, and then make it back here to Hanover. I was dreading coming back— I hurt inside from all the things I’d seen and done, and I couldn’t bear to face Sharon. You see, I was young and stupid, and while the war made me older in some ways, it didn’t help me to understand women any better. I didn’t understand that she was young and that what she did with Lee was because of that. She loved me, but she needed somebody. It wasn’t fair that she should spend her senior year like that, not knowing if her boyfriend was alive or dead. I just wish I’d known then what I know now.”
“When I got off the plane in San Francisco, there was a big protest going on inside the airport. Some of the protesters started calling me a baby-killer and all kinds of other garbage. They spat on me! I was so shocked that I just walked away. I walked. I think that messed with me in ways the war never did. And after what had happened with Sharon, it was the final straw.”
“I can’t believe they spat on you,” Oscar said. “They didn’t talk about that in school. They barely even covered Vietnam. It’s like it didn’t happen, so they don’t want us to know about it.”
“Yeah,” Dugan nodded, “that sounds about right.”
The smile on his face was grim, and I noticed tears streaming down Sharon’s cheeks.
“So what happened next?” Roy prompted.
Dugan sighed. “Well, I made my way up the coast, working odd jobs here and there. But everywhere I went it was the same, and I never stayed long. I felt like I didn’t belong anymore, but I couldn’t go home. I couldn’t face Sharon.”
“And her memory followed you wherever you went?” Roy asked.
Dugan swallowed his emotions and nodded.
Kim’s eyes grew misty. “That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I finally came back this month for our high school reunion, and when I walked into the Fire Hall and saw her across the room . . .”
He stopped and stared into her eyes. The love they had for each other was so strong that it rolled off them in waves. Seriously. I could feel it there in the vault. Once again, I found myself thinking of Michelle and T. J. again. What had I done to them? Not only was I dying of cancer, but it looked like the cops might do me in first. Even if we did make it out of here alive, it was just a matter of time. That would be time spent in a jail cell, kept away from them by iron bars and electronic locks. I’d see them only through a glass window; speak to them only through a phone. I’d die wearing an orange jumpsuit, and in the end, I would die alone. They would not be there to comfort me, and I would not be able to comfort them, to reassure them that it would be okay. I would be alone and so would they.
“I ended up marrying another friend of ours from school,” Sharon was telling the group, “but we divorced six years ago. He found a younger woman.”
“What happened to Lee?” Oscar wanted to know.
“He dodged the draft,” Dugan said. “He went over the border to Canada and died fifteen years later in a drunken driving accident near Niagara Falls. He wasn’t wearing his seat belt.”
“I’ve been to Canada,” Roy mused. “Beautiful country.”
“What took you there, Mr. Kirby?” Sheila asked.
“My job. I was a sales representative for the foundry here in town. I traveled all over the globe before I retired.”
Sherm and I glanced at each other, and Roy caught the look.
“What?” he asked.
“The three of us worked for the foundry too,” I confessed. “We just got laid off.”
“Shut up,” Sherm hissed.
“Why does it matter, dog? They know who the hell we are already, don’t they?”
He shrugged. “I guess. Fuck it. Who cares—” The phones began ringing again, interrupting him.
“That’s the cops, wanting our list of demands. Guess we’ve delayed them and shown them we’re in control long enough. Better give it to them this time before that annoying fucker breaks out his bullhorn again. They’ll probably have the negotiator for the Quick Response Team on the line too. This should be fun. I’ll stall them and see if we can get an ambulance for Carpet Dick while I’m at it. You stay here and make friends with the nice people.”
He ran out of the vault and answered the phone in Keith’s office. Sheila arched an eyebrow. “There’s one thing I’ve got to know, Tommy.”
“What’s that?”
“Why does he call John ‘Carpet Dick’?”
“Trust me, you don’t want to know.” I turned my attention to Roy. “So you worked for the foundry too, huh?”
“Yes indeed. I gave them forty years of my life. Then I retired, and I’ve been bored ever since.”
“Why the hell did you retire in Hanover?”
“I’d seen the world already,” he explained, “and my wife had family here in town. We never had any children of our own, but both of her sisters lived here, and we had nieces and nephews to spoil. After my wife died though— well, I don’t know. I guess I just had nowhere else to go. It’s funny. Not funny humorous but funny in a sad sort of way. This town used to be a good place, the kind of place you wanted to retire in. Until the jobs dried up and the Baltimore folks began arriving. Now it’s depressing. It’s like the town has cancer— it’s dying. I guess I’ll just die with it.”
I shivered. John lay limp in my arms, and his skin was turning alabaster. I needed another cigarette. My arms were growing tired from trying to keep the pressure on his wound. My hands were numb and the sticky blood dried and flaked on them. It felt like glue. I shifted my weight and reached into my pocket with one hand. I pulled out Lucas’s cell phone, set it aside and dug into my pants again, finding a crumpled pack of cigarettes. I shook one out— only three left, and lit it up. Immediately, I felt the nicotine rushing through my veins.
“Should you be doing that?” Sheila arched an eyebrow.
I breathed out smoke and gave her a thin, tight-lipped smile. “Do you really think it matters at this point?”
“No, I guess not. I just thought you might set off the smoke alarms or something.”
If you only knew, I thought. Smoke alarms are the last thing I need to worry about from cigarettes. You know those little warning labels on the side of the pack? Those are what you need to worry about. It turns out the Surgeon General was right all along.
“The fire alarm is turned off anyway,” Sharon reminded her. “Otherwise, it would have gone off when Sherm had Lucas check on his truck.”
“Can I get one of those please, Tommy?” Kim asked. “That is, if none of the rest of you mind?”
“Actually, I could use a smoke too.” Oscar agreed. “A cigarette would taste really good right about now.”
Shrugging, I shook out the last two cigarettes, lit them, and put them in their mouths.
“Thanks.”
Kim inhaled deeply, a look of pleasure crossing her face. Her innocent, pouting lips expertly wrapped around the filter. She really was a knockout.
“It’s kind of weird smoking at work. We have to take our smoke breaks outside, of course.” She giggled nervously, the cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth.
“Don’t worry, hon,” Sharon said. “I won’t tell Keith if you don’t.”
“God, I hope he’s okay.” Kim took another puff and the cigarette bobbed between her lips.
“We haven’t heard anything since Sherm took him to the office.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “Sherm wouldn’t have killed him— if only because we’ll need the leverage. Keith and
