“I know how to activate them.”
Chapter 3
Abington, PA
Thousands of miles away, Kate Wilson turns as if she hears something. Her cat stands motionless atop the granite kitchen countertop, a paw poised to knock over a glass. She smiles. “Get down from there, you!”
She’s in no mood to play. Her boys will be home any second and she has a surprise waiting for them. Not only is the cute little blond your typical suburban “super mom,” she’s also a part-time karate instructor, and her boys are her best pupils…most of the time.
Outside on the sidewalk, Robbie Wilson and his older brother Tom assess the situation. Thursdays mean Mom is home, and lying in ambush for them, an idea she got from the old Pink Panther movies, with her filling in for Cato.
“You take the upstairs this time,” Robbie says.
“Didn’t I take it last time?”
“No, I did.” His lie doesn’t work.
“I know, we go in together.”
After they drop their book bags, they go right for the front door, Slowly, quietly, Tom works the hardware and glides through the door open.
The silence is deafening; they usually hear a radio or the TV, left on too loud to cover their Mom’s movements.
Not today.
With a look, they start for the stairs.
At that moment they realize their mistake, but it is too late.
“HI GUYS!”
Kate makes them jump out of their skins. From behind the door, she swiftly grabs them in a hug, attacking her ticklish boys.
“MOM!!!”
“That has to be the oldest trick in the book!”
They both manage to wriggle away.
“You are sooo weird!” Tom laughs.
“Yes, and that’s why you love me.” Kate smiles, giving them both a kiss. “Go start your homework before we go,” she says, bouncing out of the room.
The boys look at each other, Robbie mocking his brother over his frightened reaction.
“Robbie! Don’t tease your brother!” Kate warns. Tom smiles, because he hears the irritation in her voice. Her accent always comes out with her anger. It’s barely perceptible most of the time, like a song that you just couldn’t place, and adds a cool exotic air about her.
Under the watchful supervision of the cat, Kate finishes the laundry. While folding up boxers and balling socks, she admires the fading autumn light outside and how it appears to set the turning trees on fire. It is her favorite time of year: the welcome cool after a hot summer, the coming holidays and the new school year. There was a time when such things went unnoticed, thanks to the distorted view through a bottle.
With her svelte athletic physique, she is easily mistaken for a woman ten years younger than her forty-four years. Get a little closer, however, and the slight hints of a rough road traveled reveal themselves; faded scars from another life. It doesn’t bother her, looking at it instead as an attribute very few of her sister suburbanites shared.
“Something to be grateful for...” The thought reminds her call her sponsee Sheila, just to make sure she’s held on for another day.
“Hi, Sheila…”
“Hi, sponsor lady.”
Kate can immediately tell something is wrong. “What’s the matter, sweetie?”
“Brian and I had another fight,” Sheila says, referring to her fiancée. Although not mentioned in AA’s “Big Book,” sponsorship is often the key to an alcoholic’s recovery. As a sponsor, Kate shares her own experiences, becoming Sheila’s confessor, therapist, and friend. More importantly, Kate is helping herself.
“Are you okay?” Kate asks.
“Yeah, he got all pissed because I didn’t want him to go out. I said, why don’t you just stay home for once? It went south from there.”
“So, you thought of drinking?”
“It’s hard, Kate.”
“I know, but you know what? You didn’t, and instead you did exactly what I told you to do, you picked up the phone and called your sponsor.”
“Is that what it’s going to come down to, Brian or a drink?”
Kate’s heart sinks. It almost came to that in her own relationship with Michael her husband. “I don’t know, sweetie, I hope not, but it might.”
The truth is, she really didn’t know.
Chapter 4
Kabul
“Another day in paradise, boys,” Sergeant Daniel McDowd of the 10th Mountain Division, 110th Military Intelligence Battalion tells his buddies. They are tagging along with a squad of Afghan National Police on a sweep for Taliban. As advisors, their job is not to lead, but to point the way, and hopefully not get killed by the people they are training. Very soon, they’ll be completely on their own, ready or not.
He’s a smart kid, Robert Redford good looks, the combination of an Irish father and a Jewish mom. As a kid, he had dreamed of becoming an FBI agent, doing one better than his old man, who’d been a NYPD borough commander. He graduated from Quantico at the top of his class, so they sent him to do some graduate language work at NYU. That’s when his dream was derailed.
On September 11, 2001, McDowd was riding his bike, steadily making the climb up the wooden plank walkway of the Brooklyn Bridge on his way to a Russian literature class when the world changed before his eyes. That night, watching the sunset through the smoke from his roof deck, Dan McDowd, like so many American sons and daughters, knew what he had to do.
Getting a deferment from the FBI, he joined the United States Army. With his training and education, he moved fast. The Army recognized his gift for language right away and with his knowledge of Russian, they gave him the challenge of learning Pashto, Afghanistan’s most widely used language. All this landed him on a dusty street, trying to do something to fix the shattered country while they still had a chance.
“Chiller!” his partner shouts from across the street.
McDowd wanders over through the mostly foot traffic. The people pay cautious to indifference to them as long as they keep moving.
“What’s up, Bone?” McDowd asks Sergeant James Washington.
“Don’t look now, but your red Volvo’s right around this corner.”
Their Afghan counterpart catches up with them, along with Lieutenant David Dobson, a kid fresh out of West Point.
“McDowd, did you find your target yet? This place is a shit hole, and these kids are worse than flies.” Dobson has attracted a swarm of children.
“Right around the corner, LT,” McDowd says.
“Good. Which house?” Dobson sighs, already beat from the heat.
“Third house, left side.”
Dobson turns to the Afghan commander. “Okay Hakeem, all yours.”
Bone smiles and pats the Afghan on the back. “Go get’em, brother!” The imposing reservist beams with pride as his student rushes into action.
“You should try this tactic at home,” McDowd sadly comments. Bone hails from Philadelphia. When his reserve unit got called up, his job as a city detective gave him the option to stay behind. The Army and his country had been good to him, giving him the education, training and discipline to escape the mean streets. Philly needed him, but his country needs him more.
“No doubt.” Bone sighs, thinking about the nonstop Philadelphia violence, and his two sons right in the middle of it.
McDowd reads his buddy’s mind; he’s known to do that. “How are the boys?” he asks while watching Hakeem and his men storm the building. McDowd has family in Philly area too, so he knows what Bone’s kids are up against.
“So far so good. My little guy Russ is a little sweetie, but James? He’s got too much of his mother in him, God rest her soul. He’s starting to need me more than these people do. I hope my mom can handle him until I get back.”
The muffled rattle of AK-47 fire suddenly comes from inside the house. Instinctively McDowd and Bone crouch and hug the wall.
“How old is your mom??
??
Bone has to think a second. “Sixty-one. Why?”
Now there is soft BOOM from a flash grenade, then shouting in Pashto over the radio.
“Well, she’s young. I wouldn’t worry. After all, she didn’t do such an awful job with you.”
They hear a burst of a male voice screaming over the radio.
“You better not be dissing my momma, son.”
“I ain’t dissing your momma, I’m dissing you!” McDowd laughs.
Dobson scurries next to them, just a few doors down from the operation. “McDowd! What the fuck is going on in there?”
“Gee, L.T., it sounds like they’re having fun.”
“That didn’t sound like a fun scream.”
“They haven’t asked for help, LT.”
“Just find out.”
“Yes sir!” McDowd switches to Pashto. “Hakeem! What’s going on?’ he shouts into the radio.
Hakeem shouts loudly over the screaming.
“He says he’s fine, sir.”
Less than a minute later, a nearly naked man bursts from the front door of the building, with Hakeem and his men right behind.
McDowd recognizes him as the target. The man drops to his knees and throws up his hands, sobbing hysterically. Bone doesn’t speak a lick of Pashto, but he knows when someone has taken to begging.
A moment later, Hakeem smacks him in the head with the stock of his gun.
The Americans approach for a closer look while the suspect crawls towards them in a cloud of dust.
“Please! Please! Do not let them take me!”
McDowd uses his a retinal scanner on the suspect. “Looks like we have a winner, Hakeem.”
The Afghan slaps the suspect again. “Iranian pig!”
Two of his men grab the suspect by the arms and drag the sobbing suspect away.
Bone and Dobson shake their heads while another GI videotapes the whole shebang. Every operation is recorded, along with all the onlookers.
“Good job, Hakeem,” Dobson says. “But I think we might have to work on your bedside manner.”
“God willing, L.T., God willing. We’ll see you back at the base.”
“Saddle up, boys!” Bone shouts to his men. As the Americans gather up, McDowd lingers to watch the pick up truck disappear into the orange dust.
“God’s will.” Sometimes it makes him wonder.
Chapter 5
City Line Avenue, Philadelphia
Fear is a great motivator.
“Get down…” Kate whispers, ducking behind the Slurpee station in the back of a 7-Eleven. Kate, along with her boys, her neighbor Julie and her two daughters have just finished karate class and have stopped for a little refreshment. A minute later, somebody’s robbing the place. Kate noticed them the moment they walked in, but thankfully, they haven’t seen Kate and company.
“Shhh! All of you,” she hushes them. One look at her face and they can see she’s not fooling around. A burst of profanity from the front of the store makes the situation clear.
“Don’t make a sound,” she whispers, hoping it’ll be over in a minute. Quietly, she shifts on her feet. Using the reflection off the glass refrigerator doors, she assesses the situation.
“That’s it? That’s all you got, old man?” says one voice.
“No more cash. Here, take cigarette.”
“Fuck that. I know you got more. Give it up, motherfucker!” another voice demands.
“Two of them,” she sees, kids not even old enough to drive, but one of them has a gun.
“Safe locked! Cannot open.” The old man starts to lose it as the gun points over the counter, backing him to the wall.
“Come on, Boo. We got something, let’s go man.”
The kid with the gun hesitates. For a moment, it seems to be over.
CLANG!
Robbie knocks over a bottle. It doesn’t break, but it rolls for what seems an eternity on the hard tile floor. Robbie’s face twists as if listening to fingernails being dragged over a blackboard. When it finally stops, he looks to his mom to say, “I’m sorry.”
There is dead silence. She knows they heard the bottle. She waits for the reaction while slipping off her clogs.
“Somebody else here?” The kid named Boo thumbs back the gun’s hammer.
“Shit!” Kate acts, she has to. Her children are in the same room as some skell with a gun. She is swift and silent, like a wave of dark magic. She grabs a can of dog food as she soars down the aisle directly behind the hooded robbers, staying low. About ten feet out, she launches the can with a dazzling overhand pitch. As it leaves her hand, she shouts, “HEY!”
Boo turns. The can is eight inches away from his face. He has no time to react before it strikes him square between the eyes. The last thing his brain registers is the word BEEF. The impact makes a sickening THONK, and he drops like a brick. His buddy catches him, but not the falling gun. Kate snatches it out of the air and brings it’s business end to within an inch of the other kid’s eye as he helplessly holds his stunned partner.
“Get out.”
The kid doesn’t take his eyes off the menacing barrel, telling her it is loaded. She backs away to give him room to drag his dazed pal out the door. Kate looks over to see Tom’s stunned face.
“Oh, thank you thank you thank you!” the owner jabbers. Kate pays no attention as she looks to see where they’ve gone. With a deep breath, Kate spins around.
“Okay, guys. Let’s go, everybody out,” she calls.
“What just happened?” her neighbor Julie asks, emerging from the back. They’ve heard the commotion but saw nothing.
Kate hides the gun behind her back. “I guess they got scared and ran off. I didn’t think I smelled that bad.”
Both the shopkeeper and Tom look at her puzzled.
“I said, let’s go.” She prods Tom to get them moving out the door.
“No, you must stay for the police. You hero!” the owner pleads. Tom gives his mother a sideways glance passing by.
Kate grabs Julie by the arm. “Julie, I’ll call you later.”
“Okay,” Julie says with hesitation, but Kate doesn’t let her go.
“Please, let’s keep this to ourselves.”
“Okay, Kate.”
Then she tells Tom, “I’ll be there in a second.”
Kate goes back into the store. The old man is out from behind the counter now. “Please, stay, the police are coming!”
Kate shakes her head. “No. I don’t want get involved, okay?”
“But you help, they should know!”
“I don’t want them to know. Now, you must do me a favor…”
The rush is still with her as they ride silently home, the endorphins tingling her entire being. Kate tries to resist the enjoyment; it’s dangerous for her. Finally, Robbie speaks up. “Mom?”
“Yes, sweetie?”
“I’m sorry about the bottle.”
“You’re an idiot,” Tom scolds.
“I’m sorry! It was an accident!” Robbie shoots back.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” Kate chuckles. “Just be more careful next time, especially when I ask you seriously to do something.”
“Like don’t move.”
Tom looks over at his mother. Only he knows how serious the situation was, and he’s not quite sure how to handle it.
Feeling his eyes on her, she slowly droops like one of those Mylar party balloons, unwanted, unneeded now that the fun is over. “It’s not you, Kate,” she tells herself. There is another voice somewhere that Kate knows will tell her otherwise, that it is her, that she’s damaged goods and beyond the expiration date. But she doesn’t listen to that voice anymore.
Minutes later, they pull into driveway. Her husband Michael is home unexpectedly early. They spilled into the kitchen with a chorus of hellos.
Michael is a few years younger than Kate and still holding on to his college day’s athletic build and goo
d looks.
“Dad! Guess what, we saw a robbery!” Robbie shouts.
“What?” Michael spins around.
“At the 7-Eleven, after class,” Tom says, passing his dad.
Kate, still holding karate equipment, kisses her husband. She smells booze on his breath, not that it matters, just that it’s just another surprise. “It was no big deal. Some kids tried to rob the place when we were getting Slurpees.”
“The one on City Avenue?”
She nods.
“I told you guys to stay out of that place.” Michael says, helping his wife with the stuff.
Kate tries to minimize it. “Just a couple of kids.”
“With a gun,” Tom adds, returning to the kitchen.
Kate grimaces.
“Jesus! Honey…” Michael groans.
“I didn’t see the gun.” Robbie says with disappointment.
She can’t lie. Honesty isn’t a best policy; it’s a survival tool. She can, however, be less than forthcoming about the truth. “They didn’t even know we were all there. They got scared and ran off.”
“Well, thank God,” Michael says with relief.
Kate shoots Tom a look of warning not to say anymore. “Guys, go finish your homework and then get ready for bed.” They shuffle off grumbling, but Michael, a journalist, suspects there’s more to the story. Once they’ve cleared out, he’s back to making his sandwich, but she knows better.
“Why you home early?” Kate asks. Michael’s job as news director at the number one local station usually keeps him at work until after eleven.
“So, what really happened?”
He knows his wife of eighteen years pretty well and knows she’ll be honest. She has a lot at stake. It had taken Kate years to regain Michael’s trust after her drinking.
Michael listens to her replay.
“My God, Julie was there...”
“Robbie did what?...Dog food?...”
Then it is over.
“What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t. I reacted, just like I’m trained to do.” Kate sighs.
“And Julie saw this? The whole town will know. The next thing, the cops will be knocking.”
“She didn’t see a thing, she was hiding with the kids. I really thought the whole thing was going to blow over, and then Robbie knocked over the bottle. I acted. I was afraid for the kids.”