Max, page 12
Justin struggled to keep his expression neutral. Stack and Tyler were both lying, and worse, his mom believed them. His nostrils flared as he tried to steady his breathing and get his emotions under control. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to Max, no matter what Stack and Tyler had to say about it.
“The truth is,” Stack said, lowering his voice, “he’s going to be put down either way.”
Justin swallowed hard. Max moved on from barking to howling.
“Max wasn’t near you or your dogs,” Justin said, hoping he sounded more certain than he felt.
Neither Stack nor Tyler responded. Instead, Stack stepped into the foyer and returned, clutching Justin’s mangled bike in one hand. It looked like a toy in his massive grip.
“Found this bike near my place,” Stack said. “It’s yours, isn’t it?”
Justin cursed silently.
“Well, Justin—is it?” Justin’s mom demanded.
What could Justin say that would make all this go away? His mind leaped from one option to the next, but for once, he couldn’t think of anything that would make this better. Anything he said could only make it worse.
Tyler stood up from the couch. “Justin,” Tyler said in the fake friendly voice he always used whenever Kyle and Justin’s parents were around, “why don’t you and I go have a little talk in the other room, man to man?”
Tyler turned and gave Justin’s mom a smile and nod, as if to reassure her that he could be Justin’s big brother in Kyle’s absence. Her eyes filled with tears, and she smiled gratefully at Tyler. Justin wanted to kick the man in the shins, but he followed him upstairs to his bedroom instead. Max was still barking and yelping like a maniac outside.
Tyler shut Justin’s bedroom door firmly behind him. He pulled a massive gun from his waistband and held it up, waving it in front of Justin.
“Know what this is, kid?”
Justin didn’t answer.
“This is a really, really nice gun. Know how much it’s worth?”
Again, Justin said nothing.
“Around here, six hundred bucks at the mall. Know what it’s worth over the border, in Mexico?”
Justin waited. He stared at the wall over Tyler’s shoulder. He wasn’t going to let Tyler intimidate him, even if that gun made him pretty nervous.
“Just a shade over three thousand dollars.” Tyler stashed the gun in the back waistband of his jeans again, under his jacket. “Kyle wouldn’t give Emilio the time of day, you know. But I do business with him.” Tyler stepped forward until he was just inches from Justin, looming over him. “And so do you.”
Justin cringed. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Tyler knew he sold bootlegged video games to Emilio, but he was.
“That’s right,” Tyler said, clearly enjoying Justin’s reaction. “Kyle and I found out about your little side business on our last leave. Kyle was going to tell your dad, but I talked him out of it. Word of honor. See, kid, you and I are more alike than you and Kyle ever were.”
The suggestion that he and Tyler had anything in common filled Justin with disgust and rage. It took every ounce of self-control he had to keep from punching Tyler in the face. But Justin knew that, as good as it would feel for a split second, it would only cause more trouble in the end.
“Why don’t you leave Max out of it?” Justin finally said.
“If it was up to me,” Tyler said, his voice oozing with insincerity, “believe me I would. But Stack is steaming mad at your dog, and you don’t want to mess with him when he’s mad. That is one bad man down there. And the guys we’re in business with? They’re even badder.” Tyler grinned, like the danger was part of the fun. Then his voice took on an ominous tone. “You want front-row seats at a couple more family funerals?”
Tyler’s words sank into Justin’s brain. He was threatening Justin’s parents. Justin locked eyes with Tyler.
“That’s right, kid,” Tyler went on. “Stack knows where you live now. He knows who your parents are. Things go bad on this deal, and I’m sure he won’t be shy about telling our business partners who’s responsible for that.” He poked Justin hard in the chest with one finger, but Justin didn’t budge. “I might not like it, but I can’t say that I’d blame him. Business is business, right?” Tyler leaned down until he and Justin were nose to nose. “Your mom and dad are like family to me, kid. So do us all a favor, and keep your mouth shut.”
Justin kept his gaze zeroed in on Tyler. After a moment, he mustered up the ability to speak. “Did Kyle know about your ‘business’?”
“My business? I’m just a little fish in a big pond.” Tyler’s tone had taken on a hint of disdain, like he was being forced to explain something obvious to a child. “The big fish sell weapons all over the world and make a lot of money doing it. Then they send wide-eyed hicks like me and Kyle out there to get shot at with those very same weapons, so they can cry big crocodile tears, salute the flag, and sell some more.”
Tyler paused, and Justin struggled to absorb what he’d heard. He couldn’t bear the image of Kyle getting shot by weapons just like the ones Tyler was selling to Emilio’s guys.
“Kyle wanted to be a hero,” Tyler went on. “Look where that got him.” From the expression on Tyler’s face, he knew he had hit a nerve with Justin. “Me? I’m a realist. I know how the world really works.” He steadied his gaze on Justin. “Which one are you gonna be?”
JUSTIN COULDN’T BELIEVE HOW QUICKLY THE ANIMAL control guys got to the house. He yanked on Max’s leash, practically dragging the reluctant dog to the curb. A van idled at the bottom of the driveway, its back doors opened wide to reveal a large metal crate. Two handlers with long metal poles stood on either side of the van. At the end of each pole was a soft loop, for corralling a wild dog around the neck.
Max was not a wild dog. He whimpered at Justin’s side, but reluctantly obeyed. He tried to dig his paws into the ground, but his claws just slipped along the concrete. It broke Justin’s heart to watch him struggle.
He couldn’t explain to Max what was happening—he just had to hope that in some small way, Max understood. Justin would never be able to forgive himself for sacrificing Kyle’s dog—his dog—this way. But he would never be able to live if anything happened to his parents. He didn’t have a choice.
Stack, Tyler, and Justin’s mom stood by the front door, watching from a distance. Justin and Max reached the van, and Max tried even harder to pull away.
“Come on, Max,” Justin commanded. “Be a good boy. Up.”
It was almost as if Max just gave up. At the sound of Justin’s voice, his whole body went slack, and he stopped fighting. He hopped into the van and slinked into the crate, his head and tail hanging low. Justin felt as though his heart was cracking into two pieces, seeing the dog behind bars.
“I’m sorry, Max,” he choked out, his voice breaking. Tears filled his eyes. “You deserve better than this. I just—I don’t know what else to do. Please understand.”
Justin stepped back, struggling to keep it together in front of all these people. He turned to one of the handlers.
“How long before—until you—” He couldn’t finish the sentence.
The man gave him a sympathetic look. “Forty-eight hours,” he said. Then he shut the van doors with a heavy thump.
He couldn’t watch the van pull away—it was too much. Justin pushed past Tyler, Stack, and his mother and headed into the house. He slammed the front door behind him. He looked out the window and saw Tyler putting his arm around his mom’s shoulders, comforting her. Tyler was a snake—a dangerous, scheming, lying snake—and there was nothing he could do about it. Justin felt as defeated as Max.
Justin’s busted-up bike lay in the middle of the living room. He kicked at it in frustration, stomping on the spokes until they cracked, wishing desperately that he was kicking at Tyler’s head. Suddenly, it became crystal clear to Justin what he needed to help him out of this situation: He needed Kyle. Kyle would know what to do. Kyle would know what to say. Kyle wouldn’t be so scared that he’d back down and send Max off to die.
Justin let out an angry yell as he destroyed what was left of his tires.
He was interrupted by the ringing phone. He ignored it, until the answering machine picked up, and he heard a familiar voice on the line.
“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Wincott, this is Sergeant Reyes, over at Maitland. I—”
Justin stormed into the kitchen and snatched the phone from the cradle. “Hello?” he said.
“Hi, Justin? Is that you? It’s Sergeant Reyes. I have some information for you—I followed up on what we talked about when you were here, and—”
Justin had nearly forgotten about their last conversation. Now it was too late, and too dangerous, to do anything about it. “Sergeant, I don’t think—” he started to say before Reyes cut him off.
“Justin, this is important,” Reyes said. “Tyler Harne’s service record is officially protected by privacy laws. But I talked to some people, and I want to tell your parents—”
“No!” Justin interrupted him. “No way.”
“Son, this is serious business I’m talking about here. No one could prove anything, but Harne was busted for falsifying field reports. You told me he’s been lying to your father. I just want to tell your parents. They deserve to know, Justin.”
Justin started to panic. If Reyes told his parents about Tyler’s lies, then his dad would confront Tyler, for sure. And nothing good would come of that—his mom and dad would be in real danger. He had to stop Reyes from telling them anything.
“If you tell my parents,” Justin said, trying to sound as forceful as he could, “I’ll tell your bosses you gave me a confidential training video.”
Reyes was silent on the other end of the line.
“Justin,” he finally said, his voice laced with concern. “Are you all right?”
“I’ll tell them you gave me even more classified stuff, but I threw it away because I was scared of getting in trouble. I mean it. I’ll swear to it.”
“Justin—” Reyes pleaded.
“Don’t call here again,” Justin snapped before hanging up the phone.
NINETEEN
HOURS LATER, JUSTIN SAT IN HIS ROOM, HIS STOMACH growling with hunger. He had skipped dinner that night, and his parents had left him alone. There was no way he would have been able to eat after watching Max be driven away to meet his fate. He also didn’t want to face his mom and dad. So he’d holed up in his room, trying desperately to think of a way to save Max without putting his family in danger. Time after time, he had come up empty-handed.
Now it was late, and Justin was starving. He stepped out into the quiet of the hall, preparing to sneak down to the kitchen—only his parents were still awake. He heard them talking in soft voices downstairs, so he stopped at the top of the stairs to listen.
“This isn’t sitting right,” his dad said. “That deputy’s place is a long way off. What was Justin doing out there with Max anyway?”
“I don’t know,” his mom replied. “He won’t tell me. You want to know what’s happening with Justin, you’ll need to ask him yourself. It’s about time you did.”
“I could talk to Kyle.” His dad sounded sad. “But Justin, I don’t know. It’s like I don’t even know my own son.”
His words were like a punch to Justin’s gut. He had never heard his dad sound so . . . regretful before. Justin had always thought his dad didn’t want to know him, but maybe that wasn’t true.
“You want to know your own son?” his mom asked, her voice firm. “Then turn around and look in the mirror. You two are more alike than either one of you will ever care to admit. I’ve been keeping the peace in this house since the day Kyle shipped out.” She was silent for a moment, as if letting her words sink in. “I’ve already lost one son, Ray. If it’s all right with you, I’d very much like to hold on to the other.”
Justin heard his dad sigh, then push back his chair and walk heavily across the living room. He was coming upstairs to talk to Justin.
Justin scrambled back to his room and shut the door just before his dad reached the top of the stairs. He threw himself onto his bed and picked up a comic book. A moment later, there was a soft knock on his door. His dad entered without waiting for an invitation. Justin looked up at him. His dad stood in the doorway looking awkward, like he often did when he was trying to talk about anything that might involve feelings. Justin almost felt bad for him.
“Justin, I—” His dad stopped, collected himself, then started again. “Is there anything else you want to tell me about what happened with Max today?”
Justin swallowed hard. Everything. That’s what he wanted to tell his dad—everything, from start to finish. He didn’t even care how much trouble he got in. But there was no way he could tell his dad even one word about Tyler. Because if he did, he’d get them all killed.
“I’m sorry,” Justin managed to choke out.
His dad looked surprised to hear Justin apologize.
“That’s not what I meant,” his dad said.
It was Justin’s turn to be surprised. If his dad wasn’t here to get him in trouble, then what did he want to talk about?
His dad furrowed up his brow and studied Justin for a long moment.
“Son, I’ve seen you make a lot of trouble. I’ve also always seen you own up to it. Until now.”
Even though Justin and his father had never gotten along, there was no denying that his dad was always able to tell when something serious was up. It was uncanny, really. And for once in his life, Justin actually wanted his dad to figure it out, to tell him what to do, but he couldn’t risk it. He had to throw him off course.
“Guess I’m not a hero, like you and Kyle.” Justin lowered his eyes back to his reading. “That’s the way it goes, I guess.”
He expected his dad to get angry, like usual, but he didn’t. Instead he took one limping step closer to his bed. Justin looked up at him again. There was an unfamiliar look in his dad’s eye—it was nice, friendly. Almost like he wanted to connect with Justin, rather than punish him.
“No one in this family has ever been drafted, son,” his dad began. “Not my dad, not his. They enlisted. We all enlisted. WWII, Korea. Both of them were decorated soldiers. I signed up the day I turned eighteen.” He paused, as if he was about to say something difficult. “In ’91, I was deployed with my unit to Saudi Arabia. Desert Storm—the first Gulf War.” His dad shook his head a little, almost sheepishly. “You know all that already.” He paused, then continued.
“It was my first command. Day one, we’re sent over the berm. An hour into Kuwait, we came up on the Al-Burqan oil field. The Iraqis had set it on fire, and there was smoke everywhere. Our eyes were burning—you couldn’t even see your hand in front of your face. Then shots went off.” He stopped again, looking like he was replaying the scene in his mind. “So we returned fire. Only, it turns out, we were firing on nobody. Because the shots were coming from behind us.”
Justin’s head shot up, and he stared at his dad with wide eyes. Was he saying what he thought he was saying?
“Friendly fire,” his dad confirmed. “The enemy was long gone, but no one could see a thing, so our own guys were shooting at us. Accidentally. The guy next to me went down. I moved toward him, to help him. Then I got hit. I took two bullets in my leg. One passed through the muscle, but the other”—he tapped at his calf—“cracked right into my shinbone and shattered it like glass. I was helicoptered to Germany the next day. The war was over so fast, most of my guys got home before I did.”
Justin was speechless. He’d always thought that his dad had seen serious action and been hurt in battle. Real battle, against the real enemy. But now that he thought about it, he’d never actually heard his dad say that. He’d only heard other people say it about his dad.
“By the time I got back,” his dad went on, his gaze cast down at the rug, “people were telling all kinds of crazy stories. I tried to straighten them out, to tell the real story.” He shook his head, ashamed. “But I could see how much it disappointed them.” He looked back up at Justin. “How much they wanted to believe I was . . .” He trailed off. “Well, anyway, I stopped correcting them, sooner than I care to admit.”
Justin and his dad sat in strained silence for a moment.
“I always wanted to tell Kyle. But when I saw the way he looked up to me—the way he looked at me . . . I just couldn’t.” His dad took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He looked almost relieved, like he’d been wanting to get these words off his chest for a long time. “My point is, Justin, a hero tells the truth, no matter what people might think about him. And you’ve always done that. From day one.”
Justin’s eyes filled with hot tears at his father’s words, but he willed them not to spill over onto his cheeks. He’d never heard praise from him before. He wanted nothing more than to tell his dad that he didn’t care what had happened in Saudi Arabia—that he still looked up to him. That he still loved him. But Justin couldn’t allow himself to speak. The stakes were too high. He couldn’t afford to utter even one bad word about Tyler.
“If what happened to you and Max today is different from what Tyler and that deputy are saying, Justin, then I need to know about it.” His dad was practically pleading.
Justin looked down at his comic book. “Dad, I’m gonna go to sleep now, okay?”
His dad looked as if he’d been slapped. He blinked a couple of times and took one step backward, as if he were catching his balance. Justin felt a sharp twinge in his chest, but steeled himself. He was keeping his mouth shut for everyone’s good.
Without a word, his dad turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. From his bed, Justin heard the front door open, then slam shut.
