Authors: Owen Matthews
The Fixes (32 page)
Jordan drives the Porsche out of the marina. Turns east through Capilano and takes the bridge over the bay and into the city. Eric follows in the Tesla, up the arc of the suspension bridge and then down the other side, into the giant park that marks the city gates. It's nighttime now, full dark, and as they cut through the black forest, the Boxster's brake lights are the only thing Eric can really see. Eric follows the brake lights. There's nothing else he can do.
Jordan drives out of the park and into the city. Bypasses the financial district, and drives toward Railtown. Eric follows him up Hastings to Main Street, where he turns south, just before the Railtown Health Center. They drive a couple blocks, and then Jordan signals right and pulls into an alley across from the bus station.
He stops the Porsche in the shadows. Eric waits in the Tesla. He watches the brake lights extinguish, and then he watches Jordan wipe the steering wheel clean with the sleeve of his hoodie. Jordan wipes the rest of the car down too, the inside and the door handles. Then he steps out. Looks around once, drops the keys down a sewer grate. Walks back to the Tesla and climbs in.
“They'll think she hopped a bus somewhere,” he says. “By the time anyone finds her, she'll be unrecognizable.”
Eric's stomach turns. He doesn't want to think about Haley this way.
“They'll all think she's the bomber,” Jordan says. “As long as Paige doesn't spoil it for us, we should be golden.”
He reaches across the car, takes Eric's hand, squeezes. “So let's go make sure Paige doesn't spoil it.”
Paige. Shit.
Eric drives. He's pretty much on autopilot right now. His head is throbbing from where Jordan hit him with the gaff hook. Plus, it hurts to breathe. He might have a broken rib. And he's probably in shock. The events of the past hour are still sinking in.
Jordan doesn't seem worried at all. He turns on the radio. He looks out the window and watches the city go by, cranes his neck to look at a cargo ship passing under the bridge.
Paige is still alive. E told Jordan she was gone, but that was a lie. She's probably still at home. She has no idea what happened to Haley.
She has no idea what's headed her way.
Jordan picks up on Eric's vibe. He squeezes Eric's hand again. “I know this is hard for you. Haley was a good person. She died for the Pack. That's the ultimate sacrifice, and we should respect it.”
(
Run, Paige. Charter a fucking jet and fly to, like, Fiji
.
Get out now.
)
“Paige is a liability,” Jordan says. “She's a threat. For all we know, she's the freak who's been threatening to out us online. We can't let that fly, E. We have to deal with her.”
Eric drives up the mountain. Turns onto Paige's street. Creeps the Tesla down the block until they're in front of her house.
There's a light on in the upstairs window.
(
RUN, PAIGE. GET OUT OF THERE.
)
“Keep going,” Jordan says. “Park out of sight.”
Eric idles the car forward until they're in front of the next house, hidden by a tall overhanging tree.
“Perfect. Kill the engine.”
Eric does.
Jordan climbs out of the car. Eric climbs out too. He kneels down on the pavement and pretends he's tying his shoe.
He takes out his phone.
(He could call the police right now. 911. Save Paige's life. He could get back in the Tesla and drive until the battery died, leave Jordan here to get burned.)
(But if Jordan gets burned, Eric gets burned. And it's all fun and games playing martyr to the cause when you're facing a criminal mischief charge, but murder? No thanks.)
(Eric isn't calling the cops.)
He finds Paige's number. He texts herâ
                     Â
(
RUN. OUT THE BACK DOOR. RIGHT NOW.
)
                             Â
âand presses send just as Jordan peeks his head around the front of the Tesla. “What's taking so long?”
“Shoelaces,” Eric tells him, sliding the phone underneath the front tire. “Be ready in a second.”
“Well, hurry up,” Jordan says. “We can't afford to waste time.”
CUT TO: PAIGE
. . . who is trying to Google lawyers on her phone when she gets Eric's text.
RUN. OUT THE BACK DOOR. RIGHT NOW.
Then she hears the voices in the driveway.
Shit.
It's too dark outside to see who it is. The driveway lights are off, and there aren't any streetlights. All Paige can see are shadows. She crouches as far away from the window as possible, and listens.
The voices come up to the front door. Then the doorbell rings. It's LOUD in the silent house. Paige feels her heart jump.
(
If it's the cops, Eric can go screw himself.
)
But it's not the cops.
Paige figures this out quick.
(Just as soon as she hears the front window shatter.)
Jordan breaks the front window with a patio stone. He reaches in and fiddles with the lock. Then he tries the doorknob. The door swings open.
“Let's hope they didn't set the alarm,” he says.
“Yeah, let's hope,” Eric says, as loud as he can without sounding loud. “That would really be a shame.”
Jordan gives him a funny look, and then he disappears into the house. The front hall is dark. The whole house is silent. Eric listens, strains his ears for signs of life, praying he doesn't hear any. He doesn't, thank god.
(Eric's not sure what he'll do if Jordan really does find Paige. He's hoping he can convince them both to stay calm, take it easy. Hoping he can:
a) keep Paige from finding out about Haley,
b) keep Jordan from killing Paige, and
c) keep Paige from calling the police.)
(Good luck.)
“Paige?” Jordan's voice breaks the stillness. There's no answer. Not a sound. Jordan pokes his head into the empty living room. “Guess they really did bail on this place, huh? Come on. Let's check out the upstairs.”
He starts up the front stairs. Eric reluctantly follows.
(
Run, Paige, run!
)
Jordan and Eric reach the upstairs landing. They're at
the end of a long hallway. Doors on either side, bedrooms. Paige's bedroom is the second on the left.
(Paige's room is where the light was coming from. Eric knows this, but he doesn't tell Jordan.)
Jordan creeps down the hall. Eric follows. He tries to act like he's being quiet, but he keeps bumping into things. He steps on the creaky floorboard. He even tries to breathe loud.
Jordan looks back.
“You gotta be quieter,”
he whispers.
Eric shrugs and tries to look apologetic.
(Sometimes it pays to be a perennial screwup.)
They reach Paige's bedroom door and pause. The door is half open. Eric fights the urge to scream something, give the game away.
(
You warned her. If she's still here now, it's her own fault.
)
Jordan looks back at Eric, checks that he's ready. Eric nods.
Jordan pushes the door open.
(Eric holds his breath.)
(
RUN!
)
Then Jordan swears.
“Damn it
.
”
Paige's bedroom light is on, but the room is empty.
Paige is gone.
Paige can hear Eric's voice behind her as she hurries down the back staircase. Can't make out the words, but she knows damn well it's him. And that means Jordan's probably with him, and maybe Haley, too. From the tone of Eric's text, Paige is pretty sure why they're here.
To keep her quiet.
Shut her up.
Maybe even kill her.
(
They're your best friends, dummy. They're not going to kill you
.)
But Paige thinks about Michael McDougall. And she thinks about Eric's text. She hurries down the back staircase and into the kitchen. Creeps across the dark room as quietly as she can. Unlocks the back door and slips out into the yard, slides the door closed behind her.
She's on the deck now, her heart pounding. Can't hear the voices anymore. She hurries across the deck, down the little stairs onto the grass, and across the grass toward the back alley. Toward safety.
She's almost there when she collides with something. Something dark, something hard and metal. It clatters away with a sound like a gunshot, startling the neighbor's dog into a barking frenzy. Paige trips and falls, scrapes her knee. Her fucking mom's garden furniture, a table and chairs. The real-estate agent pulled
it out for the viewings.
Shit.
It's wrought iron and solid. It really freaking hurts. Paige touches her leg, feels the rip in her pants, the skin raw underneath. Then a light comes on behind her, the kitchen light. There are lights for the backyard, too. If they come on, Paige is toast.
She has to get out of here.
Paige half crawls, half stumbles to the back fence, the gate. Pulls it open and slips through, closes it behind her as quiet as she can. Staggers down the alley with her heart threatening to rip through her chest.
CUT TO: JORDAN AND ERIC.
“What the hell was that?” Jordan peers out at the backyard. “Did you hear a noise back there?”
“Probably just a raccoon or something,” Eric replies. “Maybe, like, a skunk.”
Jordan frowns. “Sounded pretty loud to be a skunk. Let's check it out.”
Eric opens his mouth to argue, but Jordan's already halfway out the door. Eric follows him onto the deck. They look around. It's dark, no moon in the sky. A dog barking next door, a car horn down the block.
“What's back here?” Jordan says. “I can't remember the last time I was at Paige's house.”
“Just a backyard. There's some grass and a garden.”
“And behind that?”
Eric hesitates. “The garage. And the alley.”
“Let's go.”
They cross the backyard. Make the fence, and the gate. Jordan pulls the gate open, and he and Eric peer out into the alley. They can't see anything. They can't hear anything. “Let's try the garage,” Jordan says.
They check the garage. There's nothing in there but boxes and Paige's dad's motorcycle. The light from the open door casts a beam over the backyard, though, and Eric sees
what caused that huge crash.
Garden furniture. A table and chairs, antique metal, pretty ornate. The table lies on its side, midway between the house and the back gate. It's way too heavy for a skunk to knock over.
Jordan's still checking out the garage. Eric edges over to the table. Bends down and lifts it, gets it upright just as Jordan comes back out to the yard.
“Anything?” Eric asks him.
Jordan looks around. Looks at the garden furniture. He shakes his head. “Nothing. Let's go back in the house.”
Eric and Jordan poke around Paige's house for another hour.
(“Maybe she left, like, an airline receipt or something,” Jordan says.)
They don't find anything.
(An empty box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and a stack of brochures.)
Paige is gone.
They drive back to Jordan's house. Jordan pulls into the driveway and stops. Leaves the Tesla running.
“First thing tomorrow,” Jordan says, “I'll call my lawyer. Let him know our ex-friend Paige Hammond and her partner, Haley Keefer, might be spreading malicious lies about us to the police.” He glances at Eric. “And don't worry, E. My guy is the best. Even if the cops do come for us, he'll make sure we get to tell
our
side of the story.”
Eric doesn't say anything. He doesn't know what to say.
(His head is still spinning.)
(What is “
our
side of the story,” exactly?)
(He might have a concussionâor maybe he's been overdosing on Jordan the past couple of weeks.)
“Right now, though, we need to cover our asses,” Jordan says. “And that meansâ”
(He hits the garage door opener on the Tesla's visor. The garage door rumbles open, revealing Jordan's garage, empty save for three brand-new pressure cookers and a couple telltale coffee cans in the corner.)
                     Â
“âwe need to move these explosives to a secure location.”
Eric stares in at the garage. “You built more?”
“They're not finished yet. But yes,” Jordan tells him.
He gives Eric that smile.
“It's my Fix, remember? And I'm telling you, E, this one is going to change your life. Like, forever.”
I mean . . .
You had to figure there was some kind of big, climactic showdown brewing, right?
That's always been the direction this was headed.
E isn't about to hop a Greyhound and bail and leave all the dramatic stuff to the cops.
He isn't flying away to some desert island with Jordan.
That would be cheap. It wouldn't jibe with the thematic demands of the genreâor the HERO'S JOURNEY.
E has to learn a lesson.
He has to, like,
do
something, and it has to symbolize how he has, you know,
changed
. Grown. Evolved.
Whatever.
(Plus Paige is on the run now, so we kind of have to resolve that.)
My point is, I hope you're not surprised that Jordan has more bombs. And I hope it doesn't piss you off if I tell youâ
[SPOILER ALERT!]
âthose bombs are going to have to explode.
Just not yet.
Jordan picks up the pressure cookers, and carries them back to the Tesla.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Eric asks him. “What are you planning, Jordan?”
Jordan places the pressure cookers in the Tesla's trunk. Turns around and goes back for the gunpowder. “I can't tell you the target. It's a
surprise
.” He glances back at Eric. “We're going to be famous, though. I can promise you that. We'll be household names when we finish this Fix.”
Jordan places the twin cans of gunpowder in the back of the Tesla. “And it won't even matter about Paige and the police, because we'll be gone, E. We'll pull off this Fix and bail out of this shitty town, and we'll be fucking free for the rest of our lives. And anytime anyone mentions Capilano,
anywhere
, they'll say our names with it. That's how famous we're going to be.”
Eric's not exactly wavering, but his mind's testing out the possibilities. Jordan's dad has a shitload of money. Therefore, Jordan has money. Jordan could buy them first-class tickets to a non-extradition-treaty country, and they could spend the rest of their lives on the beach, living in
the Moment
together.
(Just like those three days on the boat, except forever.)
(To the very end.)
“You want to do this,” Jordan says, tearing the cell phones out of their cases. “You know you want it. Your mind just can't
accept it, because you've trained it to worry so much. You focus on the worst-case scenarios.”
Eric doesn't say anything. He
is
worried. But he's starting to see Jordan's point, a little bit, like the first hint of sunrise in the morning.
“Luckily, you've got me to show you another way,” Jordan says. “So, your family's disowned you. Paige ran away. There's a very good chance you're already a fugitive.” He looks at Eric with those hypnotic eyes. “What, exactly, is keeping you in Capilano? More to the point, why would you
stay
in this broken place?”
He holds Eric's gaze.
He waits for an answer.
Eric shifts his weight and looks around the driveway.
“Shit,” he says.
