Primal (5 page)

“For someone who reads, Kent, you sure don’t get much
right.”

“You just don’t like it when I know something you don’t
know.”

“Yeah, asshole, if that ever happened, I wouldn’t like it.”

Theo wrenches the car off the main road and enjoys the dive
into the ditch. They come to a jerky stop. He shuts off the headlights and the
black sedan vanishes into the erasing darkness. Up ahead, Grayley Community
Hospital is a blast of ugly fluorescence. The square three-story building has
light pouring from every window. An alarmingly large blood red emergency sign
points the way to admitting. Gravel and Kent silently slip out of the car with
their weapons tucked into their belts, in black jeans and hooded sweatshirts
they, too, disappear into the night. At this moment, when they fall into their
lifelong roles, the synchrony of their movement is dance-like. They cover the
ground with the relaxed competence that comes from experience, and from being
inside their comfort zone. Here, together, running through the darkness, fully
armed, they are in their element and supremely happy.

Warden Tummelson had chosen Grayley because it was outside
of town in a rural area. He thought that would be the safest spot; that way Ben
Burne would never be anywhere near a population. Tummelson hadn’t considered
what a benefit that would be to Ben’s brothers who moved in on the hospital
like hungry hyenas on carrion. No one considered that the brothers actually
cared - about anything. It was the prevailing assumption that they had skipped
the country. It was the expected behavior of the merciless. It was
inconceivable that men such as these would enjoy a deep brotherly connection.
These men couldn’t have the capacity for real emotion. They were empty beings -
must be empty beings. It was so much easier to deny them the essence of
humanness, so that nothing was shared: they are nothing like us. No one
considered that these men would risk everything to rescue each other. All of
the psychologists reported that these men just didn’t think that way. They were
narcissistic. They were self-preserving. They were grossly misjudged. The bond
between them is fierce. The raw instinct from their shared blood rages within
them. There is nothing they wouldn’t do for each other, and if pain is the
price, then pain it is. They understand pain. Their mother taught them pain.
They scoff at the brotherly affection others claim. Would they kill for their
brother? Rip the skin off someone’s face? Chop off someone’s feet? They had no
restriction, and no rules. The Burne brothers approached brotherhood the way
they approached a big bank score: all or nothing; they had no capability for,
and no respect for, moderation. They considered other brothers’ assertions of
solidarity anemic. It was all a matter of what you were willing to do for your
brother. What exactly were you willing to do? If one thing could be said with
absolute certainty, it was that no one understood the Burne boys.

To the right of the emergency sliding glass doors the prison
van is parked. Kent and Gravel exchange a confirming look. It’s a go. Gravel’s
blood thrills sending a surge of bliss throughout his body. He loves this,
every bit of it, the sneaking, the knowing, the teamwork, the weapons, the
power. He slips up alongside the prison van and stuffs a cloth into the gas
tank. He lights the end and darts back into the darkness.

Inside the operating room, Ben lies cuffed by both ankles to
the hospital bed. Doctor Kim is checking the intravenous drip. The nurse stands
nearby with a full syringe ready to administer the anesthesia. The chaplain
from the prison stands next to Ben holding his left hand. Looking through the
glass into the operating room are two prison guards: Wilkins and Rodriguez.
They stare into the room believing the threat comes from inside.

Doctor Kim asks a little impatiently, “May we begin?”

Ben replies, “Just one more prayer to the holy virgin.”

Doctor Kim tries hard not to roll his eyes and steps back.
The chaplain begins another prayer. “Hail Mary, Full of Grace, the lord is with
thee. Blessed art thou…” Ben steals an impatient glance at the clock. Just as
he does, an explosion rocks the building. The muscles in Ben’s face relax. He
smiles. Yes.

“What the hell?” Doctor Kim runs out of the room followed by
the nurse and the chaplain. Wilkins and Rodriguez burst into the room to watch
Ben. Wilkins sees the grin on Ben’s face. He feels the shift of power. He pulls
his weapon.

“Stay still, Burne.”

“Wilkins, really, I’m chained to the bed.”

“Stay still anyway!”

“Unfortunately, my friend, I’m afraid it’s too late for
that. Have you met my brothers?”

Wilkins and Rodriguez spin around! They’re face-to-face with
Gravel and Kent. Bang! Bang! And the two guards sink to the operating room
floor. Kent gets the keys from Wilkins’ bloody pocket and uncuffs Ben. Ben rips
the I.V. out of his hand.

“You’re late,” he says.

“Traffic,” Gravel answers blandly.

“Yeah, and we took the expressway, so we were surprised.”
Kent hands a weapon to Ben. “Hey, bro.”

They turn, exit the room and move together down the hospital
hallway - blood harmony.

* * *

Ben asks, “Where?”

Gravel replies, “Second floor, southeast window.”

Ben takes the lead. It has always been his role.

Consistent with Gravel’s style, the explosion took out half
of the emergency room blowing out one entire wall. Chaos reigns and injuries
abound. Ben, Gravel and Kent slip easily through it, onto the stairs, and down
to the second floor. They enter an empty room and cross to the window. In the
distance, the fire trucks and police cars approach. Gravel takes a small
flashlight from his pocket and signals. Flash. Flash.

Theo sees it. He throws the sedan in gear and pulls back
onto the road. Two police cruisers speed up on him. He stops politely and
waves. They pass by, sirens blaring. Theo drives up onto the lawn at the corner
of the hospital, directly under the window. Kent, Gravel and Ben leap to the
ground and roll. They dart to the sedan, climb in, and Theo floors it yanking
the wheel hard right, driving back up onto the pavement, and they speed down
the country road and into the darkness.

Ben now rides shotgun. He takes the power position between
his brothers. It is his right. He gets dressed as they move.

Kent gushes, “Jesus, Ben, you look good, bro!”

“I’ve had a nice rest. Did some reading. Worked out in the
yard. Hey, Theo, shut up!” He hits the back of Theo’s head. Theo grins. “Nice
pick-up boys.”

“My plan,” Gravel says.

“And full of your usual subtlety.”

“Thanks. Be at the lake by dawn.”

“The boat?”

Kent answers, “Waiting.”

* * *

The morning comes too soon for Alison. The aggressive sun
creeps skillfully in through the windowpane, up the mattress, onto the sheets,
and then elbows her right in the eye. Without opening her eyes, she wonders how
the sun does that, finds the one crack in the drapes and lands exactly on her
eye. A few moments ago, she heard Hank and Jimmy lugging their suitcases down
the stairs and she snuggled deeper into the covers.

Polly knocks on the bedroom door and then sticks her head
in. “Hank asked me to tell you it’s time.”

“Ugh!” Alison buries her head back under the pillow. How can
this be a vacation if someone is waking me up? Aren’t those mutually exclusive
events?

“Alison?”

“Okay. I’m up.”

Polly Steiner likes her job. At sixty-years-old, she has no
patience for the drama of other families she’s worked for - the Kraft family is
a good fit. She’s been with them two days a week since Jimmy was born, and an
ease of life has developed between them.

Polly straightens up the bedroom as Alison heads lazily for
the bathroom. Polly organizes the magazines neatly on the bedside table. She
picks up Hank’s black socks, which were left in a ball on the floor on his side
of the bed, and she tosses them into the hamper. Alison rinses her face in the
sink, and brushes her teeth. She slips on her light blue jeans and a
long-sleeved white sweater.

“So, Polly, you will water the plants?”

“All except that ugly creeping Charlie in the downstairs
hall. I hate that plant.”

“Yeah? I didn’t want to tell you, I heard it saying bad
things about you to the other plants.”

“I knew it.”

“Oh, no! I forgot I have a dentist appointment scheduled
this week.”

“They called to confirm yesterday and I canceled it,” Polly
says.

“Oh, good. What else?”

“I stopped your mail.”

“Oh, right.”

“And the newspaper.”

“Perfect.”

“And I finished the novel you were reading.”

“How’d I like it?”

“You cried at the end.”

“Oh, I love a good cry.”

They smile at each other. Polly hands her the small travel
case.

“Have a good time.”

“Actually, I woke up feeling a lot different this morning.”

“Yeah?”

“This will be an adventure. I think I’m going to have a good
time.”

“That’s the pioneer spirit. I slipped the bug spray, the
aspirin, and the anti-itch lotion inside your rain boots.”

“Oh. Good thinking.”

* * *

A few hours later, the tiny grey speedboat, which from
Alison’s perspective is in questionable condition, and barely qualifies as a
floatation device, bangs across the surface of Lake Superior. Hank sits in the
aft next to the captain, who Alison is quite certain isn’t old enough for a
driver’s license yet. The teenager has kept the boat relatively close to land.
They’ve been speeding along since late morning without a single sign of
civilization on the shore. Hank looks off at the distant horizon and invigorated,
starts singing Proud Mary. Even the gathering storm clouds cannot wipe the grin
from his face. He remembers the envious looks from his two partners, Scottie
and Newt, at work yesterday. He knew when he got back he was going to hear
about plans from each of them to do something out of bounds - something
exciting. They are all ready for a break. They have worked hard and long on
their business.

Two years ago, the three of them started Pump Up The Volume,
a sound and lights equipment company. Hank is the first to actually take a
vacation. They have worked like crazy for professional gigs, and they love it
when a real band comes to town, but the bread and butter of their business is
still high school musicals, bar mitzvahs, and weddings. Hank doesn’t mind though,
because while there is always stress when the special night arrives, he works
all the time with people who are planning happy events and that fits with his
nature. It has been fun starting a business, in his hometown, with his best
buddies, and being able to work all day long with the music blasting. Music is
as essential to Hank as breathing. All kinds of music: Hip-hop, Reggae, Blues,
Rap, Rock - it all works for him. The only improvement he made to their home
was to wire every room for sound; even if he is out in the backyard, there is a
speaker. When there is no music playing he is constantly looking around the
room as though he’s lost something, and much to the misfortune of those around
him if the music is turned off, he sings.

Business is good, but not too good as Newt says happily.
Newt sees work as something one does in-between parties, something that pays
for one’s life, but not something that is necessarily interesting. He could
have been in the business of making dog treats and it would be exactly the
same. As long as he is working with his buddies, he is okay with working. He
prefers a nice easy pace and doesn’t like it when they get too busy. Scottie is
a tech junky and loves the equipment, the more complicated the better. He shows
up wide-eyed and excited at every tech convention within 500 miles. He races
back to the store after each event like a teenager with a list of sound
equipment they have to have. Newt keeps him in line economically. Hank just
wants the music in every hour of his day. They have a comfortable partnership.

“Hank, you’re singing again,” Scottie complains.

“Am I?’

“A dismal rendition of Wild Thing,” Newt adds as he lifts a
soundboard onto the countertop.

“I rock and you know it.”

“There’s a reason why Mrs. Kravitz in the seventh grade put
you basically under the bleachers for the Spring Show.”

“Hey, don’t talk trash about my glory days!”

It was Alison who suggested the name for the business. It is
an inside joke. Hank liked Pump Up The Volume for the obvious reasons. Scottie,
Newt and Alison liked it because whenever you’re around Hank you need to pump
up the volume to drown out his singing.

Lake Superior suddenly rears up like a spooked horse. The
speedboat pitches left and slaps back down on the water.

Hank keeps singing, “Big wheel keep on turning. Proud Mary
keep on burning.”

“Dad, so uncool.”

“Uncool?”

“Completely.”

“Oh, yeah?” He stands and starts to rap T.Pain, “I’m on a
boat. Hey ma, if you could see me now…” Jimmy laughs as Hank continues and adds
ghetto gestures, “Arms spread wide on the starboard bow. Gonna fly this boat to
the moon somehow.”

The boat shoots off a crest and out of the water, suspended,
and then, smack down hard. Hank hits the deck and grins sheepishly flat on his
ass. The captain rolls his eyes and tries to keep his grin small. Alison bites
her tongue hard. She scrunches her face, as she tastes a drop of blood. In only
a few seconds, the water conditions on the lake have worsened dramatically. The
boat begins to feel even smaller to her. She looks out at the expanse of water;
the lake has no end whatsoever. It is so vast that it looks no different from
the ocean, except the ocean hasn’t ever looked this angry to her. The water is
not a comforting azure with foaming whipped cream dollops, but an icky
truculent green. She knows there will be no soft sand between her toes, no
pedicures, or pleasing rum drinks in her immediate future. She notices Hank’s
expression. He is so engaged, so happy.