The Minnesota Candidate (22 page)

“Did I see what?”

“Me and my dad, we rescued Mr. Chincoski. He was
out of ammo and pinned down behind the store. He caught a bullet to
the leg, but it’s just a crease. My old man is downstairs patching
him up. You should hear them. They’re talking like old
friends.”

They both laughed at that. “That was very brave
of you guys to do that,” said Tom. “I’m sure he appreciates what
you did for him.”

“He was only out there because he was protecting
our store.”

“It sounds like the feud is over.”

“You can say that again. My old man has already
offered Mr. Chincoski a job. And guess what? He accepted it.”

Tom smiled and nodded his head. It felt good to
smile after all they had been through. He thought about the man he
had killed and found that there was no sorrow in his heart. The man
would have killed him if Tom hadn’t been quicker on the draw.

Louie offered Tom a candy bar and he quickly
devoured it. He then offered him a cold can and Tom shook his head.
His fingers were still trembling and the last thing he wanted was
another energy drink. “Do you got something against beer?” asked
Louie.

Tom snatched the can away from his friend and he
popped open the top. He then drank, thirstily. “Oh man,” he
groaned, “does that ever hit the spot.”

“Yeah, well don’t tell my old man. He’d kill me
if he knew we were mixing firearms and alcohol.”

In the soft glow of candlelight, seated around
the radio as if they had been transported back in time, they
listened to the unbelievable news. Shari sat with her head in her
hands. The President had declared a State of Emergency. He also
declared martial law and warned of dire consequences for anyone who
broke the strict dusk to dawn curfew.

Shari was still digesting this news when
Anchorman Bob cut to a female reporter on Capitol Hill.
“Let me
begin by apologizing if my voice sounds muffled,”
she began,
“but in a bizarre twist of events, the women here have been
asked to wear a burka. Actually, we weren’t asked, but I don’t have
time to get into that. Bob, what I really want to talk about are
the rumors that President Peabody and Vice President Mertz, along
with several members of Congress, have reportedly converted to
Islam. Both the House and the Senate are locked behind closed doors
and I have unconfirmed reports that they are debating the idea of
incorporating Sharia Law into the United States Constitution.
Meanwhile, CIA Director Sharif Abdul, has been quoted as saying
that Americans are being encouraged to convert to Islam.”

The reporter began to say something else, but
there was the sound of a scuffle and then she shouted something
unintelligible, before being cut off. Then, instead of bringing the
broadcast back to the news desk, the radio station went into a
commercial break.

“Well, that ain’t good,” said Marie, itching
away at her inner thigh. “Hey Shari, got anything else to eat?”

Shari pointed to the kitchen. “Help yourself to
whatever you want,” she said.

“I could eat,” said Lumpy, who followed Marie
into the kitchen.

Steve, his red eyes barely half open, gave Shari
a sly smile. “I guess that means Fat Tommy won’t be coming home,”
he said, suggestively.

Doris practically flew from her chair, picking
up a hefty bronze statuette from the end table. She stopped,
hovering over Steve, and raised the statuette over her head. “What
the hell was that supposed to mean?” she asked.

Steve sank down in his wing chair and covered
his head. “Nothing,” he cried. “I didn’t mean nothing by it, Aunt
Doris!”

“Yeah, well it had better have been nothing. I’m
warning you, mister.”

Shari watched all of this as if she were in a
dream. None of them seemed to understand what was happening. Marie
and Lumpy were hungry, Steve was hitting on her, and Doris was
about to cave his head in for doing so. Their world was going to
hell in a handbag and none of them seemed to care. Doris returned
Shari’s award to the end table and she sat back down on the sofa,
her eyes never leaving Steve. “What did you two make of that?”
Shari asked. “All of that stuff we heard on the radio. Do you
believe it?”

“I’m not letting you leave the house,” said
Doris, “if that’s what you mean. You heard what they said: we’re
under a dusk to dawn curfew. I just hope that Tommy heard the news.
I’m so worried about him.”

“I was thinking about that,” said Steve. “What
about guys like me? I live in my car, you know, because I ain’t got
anyone who will take me in. What if the police found me sleeping in
a parking lot?”

Doris rolled her eyes and scratched her leg.
“I’m sure the police have bigger fish to fry. No, I’m really
worried about Tommy. Steve, go see if the phone is working.”

“What, are your legs broken?”

“Don’t make me come over there.”

“Okay, jeez, can’t you take a joke?”

“Not tonight. And I don’t want to hear anymore
lip out of you. If you want to find out what the police will do if
they find you sleeping out on the street, you just keep
talking.”

Steve was out of his chair before Doris had
finished making her threat. Shari turned to her. “What about all of
that stuff about converting to Islam? Doesn’t that worry you?”

“Why should it? I sure as hell ain’t converting
to anything. I’m a Catholic, Shari; which, by the way, is something
we need to talk about. What religion are you, honey?”

Shari was stunned by the question. “I was raised
Lutheran.”

This seemed to please Doris and she gave Shari a
wink. “Oh, we can fix that. You’re going to love being a
Catholic.”

Shari sank back into her chair. She didn’t have
the energy to argue with Doris. Beyond that, after what they had
just heard on the radio, she was stunned that Doris would even
suggest such a thing. Steve poked his head around the corner and
said that the phones were still down and then he returned to the
kitchen. Shari sipped her wine and wondered how she was ever going
to fall asleep.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” said Doris, scooting
to the end of the sofa to sit next to Shari. She lowered her voice.
“Tomorrow, after we get rid of everyone, I was hoping you would
give me a private tour of your parent’s house. I promise not to
tell anyone, even Tommy. You know how much I want to see it.”

Shari was stupefied by the request. The radio
played yet another commercial. When Shari finally recovered enough
to reply, Marie came charging into the living room. “You’re not
going in there without me,” she growled. She was carrying a heaping
plate of food in one hand and a fresh bottle of wine in the other.
“I almost died over there. My arm still hurts.”

“Your arm is fine,” said Doris. “Oh, I didn’t
know we had hot dogs. Are there any left?”

“You had better get in there,” replied Marie.
“You know how those two can eat.”

Doris stood up and she turned to Shari. “Would
you like one?”

“No, thank you.”

Doris smiled and rubbed her considerable belly.
“I understand,” she said. “You have to watch that girlish figure,
don’t you? That’s a good idea. Now, you just think about what I
asked you, okay? We can talk about it in the morning.”

Holding a half-eaten hot dog in one hand, Marie
turned to Shari. “I won’t say anything to anyone, either,” she
said, chewing a mouthful of food. “Doris and me are just like
sisters. Where she goes, I go.”

Shari felt as if her head were about to explode,
but Anchorman Bob saved her. Shari held up her hand and pointed to
the radio. Marie nodded and continued to attack her plate of food.
Shari listened, but Bob moved onto the weather and then to the
sports, which had all been postponed. Still, that didn’t stop Bob
from talking about them. Shari leaned forward and twisted the dial
on the old radio, but the other news stations seemed to have
switched over to a classical music format. Angrily, she shut off
the radio.

Lumpy and Steve returned, soon followed by
Doris. They sat down and the room was filled with the sound of
crunching food and smacking lips. Shari thought she was going to be
sick. She stared at her watch and saw that it was well after 10:00.
She rose from her chair and turned to Lumpy and Steve. “You two are
going to fight it out to see who sleeps in the other bedroom. One
of you will have to bunk out here on the sofa. There are plenty of
blankets and pillows. I’m tired and I’m going to bed.”

“Aren’t you going to wait up for Tommy?” asked
Doris.

Shari picked up a candle and stared up at the
ceiling. “We’re under a curfew,” she said, trying to keep her voice
even. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll drive over to your house and I’ll
find Tom.”

“Do you mind if we have another bottle of wine?”
asked Lumpy.

“Drink it all. I don’t care what you do.”

Lumpy and Steve exchanged a thirsty grin. “I’m
sure you’re right,” said Doris. “You just sleep on what we talked
about, okay?”

“Oh, I certainly will.”

“That’s good. Sweet dreams, honey.”

“Yeah,” said Marie. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow is
going to be a big day.”

Shari left them there and climbed the stairs.
She walked to her bedroom and closed and locked the door. In the
flickering candlelight, she changed into her pajamas and crawled
into bed. She had never felt more awake and she tossed and turned.
Finally, she blew out the candle. The room was as dark as night,
but Shari’s thoughts were far darker. Alone with her thoughts,
Shari wished she would have remembered her radio. She was angered
not only by Doris’ request of a private showing of her parent’s
house, which was never going to happen, but by the lackadaisical
response by her guests to the breaking news on the radio. They
seemed oblivious to the fact that colossal changes were waiting in
the wings and that their entire way of life was being
threatened.

Since when were female reporters required to
wear a burka? The very thought of it made Shari’s blood boil. She
continued thrashing under the blankets, but only until her thoughts
drifted to her own financial situation. Shari felt the heaviness
settle in her chest. The helpless feeling was unlike any she had
ever experienced and it now threatened to suffocate her.

Downstairs, Lumpy and Steve stepped outside for
a smoke and Marie played with the radio dial until she discovered
an oldies station. She then sat back down next to Doris. “So,
what’s the plan?” she whispered, her eyes darting around the
room.

“What are you talking about?”

“Hey, this is me you’re talking to. Don’t go
acting all innocent, I know how your brain works.”

Doris felt offended, which wasn’t unusual when
Marie spoke to her, but this time was somehow different. She
bristled and sat up straight. “The plan,” she said, “is not to rock
the boat. My daughter in-law is under a lot of pressure and we
should be doing all we can to make her life easier.”

Marie’s eyes grew large and then she began to
laugh. “You almost had me there,” she chortled. “I think you missed
your calling, Doris. You should have been an actress.”

“Well, I’m not acting. We were out of line and
we never should have gone inside that house. We could have been
killed over there. My God, what if she hadn’t found us? My thighs
are still on fire.”

Marie scowled and scratched at her calves.
“Yeah, but now that we know about the booby trap, it’ll be clear
sailing. Don’t you want to get back in there? We were so damn
close.”

Doris did want to get back in there, more than
she wanted anything in her whole life, but she wasn’t about to let
Marie know how she felt. She would bide her time and the
opportunity would present itself. She put on her stone face and
stared straight ahead.

Marie raised her chin. “Oh, so that’s how it’s
going to be, huh?”

Doris didn’t reply and a moment later, Steve and
Lumpy strolled in through the patio door. Doris walked over to them
as they hovered over the dining room table. “I’m going to bed,” she
announced. “I don’t care who sleeps in the bedroom at the end of
the hall, but don’t either of you go to sleep without cleaning up
that mess in the kitchen. Do you understand me?”

“That’s right,” said Marie, who was suddenly
standing behind her. “And while you’re at it, clean up that living
room. Show a little respect, will ya? If I wake up and this place
isn’t clean, I’m going to be really pissed off.”

“That makes two of us,” agreed Doris.

Marie nodded her head. “And don’t drink up all
of that wine. This could be a long weekend.”

“She has like three cases in the pantry,” said
Lumpy. “I doubt we could drink them all.”

“Yeah,” agreed Steve, “what do you think we are…
alcoholics?”

“That’s exactly what you are,” replied Marie.
“You two haven’t been sober since the fifth grade.”

“I’m going to bed,” said Doris. “Try and keep it
down out here.”

“That’s right,” said Marie. “If you guys wake me
up, I’m going to be really pissed off.”

Doris rolled her eyes and she picked up a
candle. Marie did the same thing and she followed Doris down the
hall. Doris walked into her bedroom and closed the door. She set
the candle down on her bedside table and stared down at the bed.
She really was tired and she quickly undressed and crawled under
the covers. The soft sheets felt good and Doris let her mind wander
as the cool sheets caressed her flaming skin.

She hated Marie for what she had said. And on
some level, Doris hated herself. She did have a plan to get inside
the big house. She had thought of little else after they had been
rescued. Doris thought that someone as organized as Shari would
certainly keep an extra set of keys for everything she owned. Vince
had been like that, even though Doris had never understood why.

Before she could start her search, she was going
to have to get everyone out of the house. Getting rid of Lumpy and
Steve should be easy enough, she thought. There was fuel in the
boat and she wasn’t above siphoning gas. The tough part was going
to be talking Marie into leaving with the two of them. Marie wasn’t
going to like that. Doris shook her head and bared her teeth. She
didn’t care what Marie thought, or how she felt, or what she did in
that stupid apartment of hers. She was getting into that car. Marie
could be stubborn, but Doris thought she could be twice as
stubborn.