Never Forget: A Novella in the Echo Platoon Series (15 page)

“Then why were you running off just now?” one of the officers demanded. “What have you got to hide?”

“Man, I don’t need this harassment. You chargin’ me with something or not?”

Uncle Will had some nerve talking to the cops like he was all innocent. Santana licked his dry lips, tempted to say something.

“We’ll start with you carrying a concealed weapon,” one of the officers suggested.

“I got a right to defend myself,” his uncle retorted. “This crazy woman verbally assaulted me, and then
his
dog attacked me, and he threatened to knife me.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t recognize me, Seaman Goddard,” Curtis’s mother spoke up.

“Where is Curtis Schultz?” a cop asked.

Santana swallowed hard.

“Who?”

“This woman’s son.”

“How should I know?”

His uncle wasn’t going to tell them. The pressure that was just starting to ease off Santana’s chest returned, making it hard to breathe. Curtis was going to die, making Santana an accessory to murder.

Tell them,
said a voice inside his head.

His stomach churned. He couldn’t. Uncle Will would hear him, and then he’d kill him or send someone to do it.

Just then Santana’s mother stepped out of their front door.

“Listen here,” she spoke up on a harried note, “I got to go to work tomorrow, and all this nonsense is keeping me awake. I don’t need you bringing trouble to my door, William. I had enough trouble with your brother. Get your stuff and get out of here.”

Her words gave Santana the impetus to speak up. “I know where Curtis is,” he blurted. Six sets of eyes swiveled toward his second-story window.

“Don’t you say nothin’, boy,” Uncle Will warned, his dark eyes glinting.

“Where is Curtis, Santana?” Mrs. Schultz cried, crossing the lawn to stand directly below his window. She gazed up at him beseechingly. “Tell me,” she added on a note that would break anyone’s heart.

Uncle William pointed a warning finger at him. In the dark it looked like a gun.

Santana’s mother stormed off the front steps. “Don’t you threaten my son, Will,” she warned flying toward him.

He put both hands into the air and backed away. “That’s it. I don’t need this shit.”

“Where are you going?” a cop asked him.

“Santana, please!” Mrs. Schultz cried.

His mother looked at her then up at Santana’s window. “What does she want?” she demanded.

Uncle Will ignored the policemen and stalked doggedly toward his car, taking Lucifer with him. Blood streamed from his shoulder and down his arm, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Stay right there, Goddard.” One of the officers pointed his gun at Uncle Will’s back.

“You ain’t got no reason to arrest me,” Will said, without turning around. Opening the driver’s door on his Oldsmobile, he ordered his dog inside before ducking in behind him.

“Yes, he does,” Santana said, but not so loud that Will could hear him.

“Santana! Where is Curtis?” Mrs. Schultz cried in an anxious voice.

Santana waited until his uncle turned the engine over and was backing out of his parking place. As he drove away, he looked down at Curtis’s mother’s pale face and said with a tremendous sense of relief, “Uncle Will locked him in the sewers in the woods behind us. That’s where he’s been hiding the guns that him and his friends stole.”

The two police officers whipped their attention to Uncle Will’s departing vehicle. “We’ll send officers to help look for your son,” one of them promised as they sprinted for their cruisers. Apparently, the boy’s confession gave them all the testimony they needed to arrest Uncle Will without a warrant.

As they departed with their sirens screaming, the lights in several neighboring condos blinked on.

Mrs. Schultz stood below him with her hands on her cheeks, her eyes enormous eyes. “Can you show us where to look?” she asked.

Santana glanced at his mother who stood next to Curtis’s mother with her hand on her hips and her mouth hanging open. “Boy, you better fix this now,” his mother warned.

“Yeah,” he said to Mrs. Schultz. “I’ll be right down.”

Chapter Fifteen

‡

“I
T’S DOWN THIS
way.”

Santana’s quavering voice echoed in the dank catchment basin he had led them into moments earlier. Maya fought to keep her horror at bay as she, Rusty, and Draco followed a hesitant Santana deeper and deeper into the trunk line, while Santana’s mother remained outside with a promise to send the police after them.

Cold rainwater sluiced past Maya’s calves, carrying all sorts of unidentified debris that brushed her bare legs. She scarcely noticed. Rusty’s warm fingers clasping hers steadied her resolve, unlike poor Santana, who shivered so violently that the light cast by his penlight jerked violently on the walls. Pulling out her cellphone, she contributed to the feeble lighting with its flashlight feature. Its bright white light made the six-foot tunnel seem less daunting.

But the farther into the tunnel they walked, the more apprehensive she became. When they came upon an intersection suggesting a maze of underground tunnels, her dismay mounted.

“How much farther?” she asked.

“Almost there,” Santana promised.

She called her son’s name, straining her ears for a reply, but all she heard was the steady rush of water and the echo of her own voice.

Santana had begun to pan the walls with his light. When it rested on a bolted grate through which water poured, her heart stopped and then beat double-time. She stared at the thick padlock, realizing at once that it didn’t belong there.

“This is where they hid the guns,” Santana said, his voice displaying the terror she was feeling. “But Tom took them somewhere else after we found them.”

Bending over the grate, the boy shone his light into the lateral line on the other side. “Curtis!” he shouted, his voice on the verge of a sob.

Maya added her light to his, trying to see inside the dark tube, but Draco’s head blocked her view as he pushed his way forward to sniff at the grate.

“He smells the residual gunpowder from the rifles,” Rusty explained.

“How do we get it open?” Maya asked.

Santana produced a screwdriver. Applying it to one of the hinges, he grimaced as he fought to turn it.

“Where’s Curtis now?” Maya asked, alarmed by the quantity of water gushing out of the grate to spill into the bigger channel. “You said he was here, right?”

Santana cast her a frightened glance. “Maybe he tried crawling out the other way.”

“Where does it lead?” she asked.

“I don’t know. My uncle said there’s no way out.”

Her heart thudded painfully at his ominous words. Obviously, if there’d been a way out of his dark watery prison, Curtis would have returned home.

“Here, let me try that, son.” Taking over the screwdriver, Rusty used his superior strength to turn the screws on both hinges. He spun them out of their threads, tugged the grate from the hole, and something fell out as he did, splashing into the stream at her feet.

Maya bent down to retrieve the object. “It’s Curtis’s cellphone. Curtis!” she cried, angling her light into the dark conduit. She repeated his name, but there was nothing to be seen or heard, merely an empty offshoot filled with rushing water. At ten yards or so, it angled upward and her light went no farther.

To everyone’s astonishment, Draco leapt suddenly into the opening, crawled forward, and disappeared.

At the other end of his lead, Rusty tried to follow, but his shoulders scraped the cement walls on either side, hampering his advancement. He wriggled back out, the front of his T-shirt soaked, his hands empty.

He’d let Draco proceed without him.

“I’ll go,” Maya volunteered, uncertain how to hold her iPhone while scrambling after the dog.

Rusty stopped her. “It’s not safe, Maya. Let the dog go. We need to find the intake that this line comes from.” He held up his left wrist on which he wore a thick tactical watch, angling it in the direction Draco had taken. “This line is headed northwest.”

“But one of us should stay here.” She wouldn’t leave in case Curtis could hear them all abandoning him.

“I’ll stay,” Santana said, his eyes bright with tears. “It’s my fault this happened. I’ll stay right here in case the dog comes back with Curtis.”

Rusty laid a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll send in an officer or two to keep you company,” he reassured the teen. “Come on, Maya. We need to do this quickly.”

His urgency alarmed her. Clearly, the situation was a dire one. The water pouring out of the conduit was cool. If Curtis was caught somewhere in the lead between the main and the catch basin, he could drown or succumb to hypothermia, or both.

Following immediately behind the focused SEAL, she created a wake in the shallow water in her haste to exit the underground maze.

*

C
URTIS SURFACED TO
awareness as a moist snout snuffled his forearm, then his shoulder, and then his face.

What the hell?

With a yelp of alarm, and envisioning some kind of oversized sewer rat, he cringed, while trying to thrust the creature away from the ledge he lay on. Pain immediately tore through his left side, but it waned when the animal returned, licking his forearm in a friendly manner and bumping his hand with its head.

Amazement broke over Curtis, sharpening his awareness as, unmistakably, a dog bounded onto the ledge and stood over him, panting hot breath onto his face.

“Draco?” he cried, recognizing the texture of the animal’s fur and the shape of his body.

A sob of relief escaped him at the realization he’d been found. He wasn’t going to die here, after all. Seizing Draco’s collar, he discovered the length of his lead still attached to it. Where was Rusty who no doubt had held the other end?

“Rusty!” Curtis tried shouting, but his voice was feeble and too hoarse from crying out earlier to carry very far.

He collapsed back against the ledge, clinging tightly to the dog, and keeping him from bumping his left shoulder. The SEAL couldn’t come the way the dog had, but he was nearby, looking for him. Of that, Curtis was certain.

“Draco, you found me.” Curtis’s cold lips were scarcely able to form words.

The dog started to pull away.

“No!” Curtis tightened his hold on the collar. “
Blijf
,” he ordered. Stay.

Left any longer by himself, he knew he would succumb to hypothermia, as soaked as he was. “
Af
,” he added, commanding the dog to lie down. As Draco stretched out next to him, Curtis pulled him closer, huddling against the merciful heat radiating off the dog’s body.

Succumbing to his exhaustion, he closed his eyes with the expectation of being saved soon.

R
USTY DIDN’T WAIT
for the police to come up with blueprints from the land developer that had mapped the storm drainage system. Sending a couple of officers into the main to join Santana, he’d produced paper and pen from the glove box of his car. Then he’d stood over the hood mapping the tunnel himself, adding angles, approximating distance and direction to determine, if possible, where the lead came out at street level.

Maya watched him work with her heart in her throat. Was it fair of her to expect him to save her son? Because that’s exactly what she was doing, depending on this man who had no responsibility to help, yet knowing he would do absolutely everything he could for her and for Curtis.

“This way,” he said, stuffing the paper into his pocket and grabbing Maya’s hand. He tugged her up the street toward the back of the neighborhood.

The remaining officers, like the dozens of SEALs he’d led over the course of his career, responded automatically to his authority and fell in behind them. They all passed Santana’s house, now lit up like a Christmas tree. Maya hadn’t heard whether William Goddard had been apprehended, but she no longer cared enough to spare a thought for him.

“Nothing’s been built back here yet,” she stated as Rusty turned toward the newly paved street leading to the latest phase of construction in her neighborhood.

He pointed to the recently poured sidewalks. “But the drainage system is in place.”

Coming upon a storm drain in the gutter, Rusty dropped into a prone position with his face next to the opening and whistled for Draco.

But the only sound to reach their ears was the intermittent peeping of tree frogs and the ever-present sound of running water. Rusty pushed to his feet and they continued down the road to the next curbside drain where he repeated his efforts. This time, a bark came from somewhere farther up the road.

“It’s the next one!” Rusty leaped to his feet and ran another fifty yards to crouch beside the next gutter. As he whistled again, the dog’s eager barks echoed in the catch basin below him.

Catching up to Rusty, Maya dropped to her knees beside him.

“Curtis, are you down there?”

“Mom!” came his voice back to her, the most blessed sound she’d ever heard. Relief all but flattened her. He was alive!

“Are you hurt, honey?” She held her breath waiting for a report.

“Broke my…collar bone, I think.”

“Hold on, baby. We’ll have you out in a minute.”

But she could see that the slotted gutter was too narrow to fit through. Beside her, Rusty had spied a manhole cover on the curb and was straining to lift it. Strangely, it didn’t budge, even while his biceps bulged with his effort.

He gave up with a frustrated roar and rose to his feet. “It’s cemented down or something.”

He focused his attention on the officers who formed a semi-circle around them. “We’re going to need a jackhammer with a chisel tip.”

Responding to the command in Rusty’s voice, an officer was on his phone in two seconds flat.

Heedless of the damp pavement, Maya sprawled in front of the slotted inlet so she could shine her light into the well and see her son. Draco’s eyes, glowing gold, were the first thing she noticed as the dog glanced up at her before resting its head back down. Then she made out Curtis lying next to him, holding onto the dog like a lifeline, and something in her heart shifted.