The Journey Home (17 page)

“Jake! Taylor!”

The boys spun around to see Jennifer, standing in the front doorway.

Jake's heart almost leaped out of his chest. “Mom!”

Jake and Taylor scrambled back up the steps and launched themselves into their mom's waiting arms.

“I didn't think I'd ever see you again,” Jennifer gasped, grabbing them both tight and wrapping them up in a huge bear hug.

Jake let the tears spring from his eyes. Suddenly he knew what had been missing from Pittsburgh.

They sat around the kitchen table, gazing at each other like two alien species. Jake took a sip of water to wet his dry
mouth. Compared to the clean taste of ice melt, city water would take some getting used to.

Jen took a deep breath. “Where have you two
been
?”

The story came flooding out of the boys. They told their mom everything. How they'd run away, the people they'd met, the places they'd stayed. They told her about the trucker lady, and the snowboarders, and Abe's cabin, and about the months they'd spent learning how to live off the land.

She stared, and nodded, and listened.

“And what about Bull?” she interrupted while Jake was talking about the coyotes. “Did he hurt you? Have you seen him?”

Jake swallowed. “Mom . . .”

“I need to know! If Valenti can track down Bull, he might leave me alone!”

Panic bubbled up inside Jake. “We don't know where Bull is.”

“Jake Wilder!” He could feel himself buckling under his mom's accusing glare. “I want the truth out of you. Has Bull threatened you? Has he hurt you?”

“Bull's
dead
!” Taylor yelled suddenly. He leaped up, and his chair fell backward with a clatter. “Don't you get it, Mom? He's dead and he's never coming back.”

“What?” Jen gasped.

“He can't hurt you anymore. You never have to worry about him again. He's dead, and I'm not sorry!”

Jen became pale and very still. “What happened?”

“Dad didn't kill him,” Jake said quickly. “They had a fight, but Bull died by accident. He fell into a river and got washed over the edge of a waterfall.”

As he spoke the words, he felt as if gallons of pent-up poison were pouring out of his body. He laid his arms on the table and his head on top of them, drained. Finally he'd told his mom the truth.

Jen's lips trembled. “And did your father go to the police?”

“No,” Jake croaked. “We never talked about it.”

“Oh, my poor boys. How did you get tangled up in this?” A look of rage crossed her face. “I never wanted this!”

“We know, Mom,” Jake said. “That's why we had to come back.”

“We need to be a family again,” Taylor said.

Jen clenched her fists. “I used to think we could have that with Bull, once your father left. I thought it would be good for you to have a man around. But I was wrong, wasn't I?”

Jake just lowered his eyes.

Jen held out her arms, and the two boys gathered with her into a close hug. It was over. All the guilt he'd carried, all the fear, washed away in that moment. He could face what still lay ahead without carrying those burdens anymore.

“Mom,” said Taylor carefully, “why did Dad leave—”

Before Jen could say a word, the loud ring of the phone sounded from the hall.

“Uh-oh,” she gasped, and put her hand to her mouth.

Jake grabbed her shoulders. “Don't answer it!”

“I have to!”

With the boys following, she ran to the hall and snatched up the phone. “Hello?”

Jake could hear a harsh voice snarling down the phone line. He knew it was Valenti even before his mom mouthed the name to him.

“I told you, I don't know where Bull is!” she said angrily. “He's gone. I don't know anything about any money!”

Valenti was shouting down the phone now. Jen held the receiver away from her ear and gritted her teeth.

Jake strode forward and snatched the phone out of her hand.

“Jake, give that back—” his mom began, but he was already across the room.

“Mr. Valenti,” he said calmly. “This is Jake Wilder. Don't bother my mom again.”

Valenti's laugh rang in his ears. “Hey, kid. Back from Chicago, huh? I heard you gave my guys there the slip.”

“I can give you what you need,” said Jake. “You want Bull. I'll bring him to you.”

“You got him there? Sit tight. I'll be right over.”

“He's not here,” Jake said. “And you're not listening. I said I'll bring him to you.” He closed his eyes; this next part was crucial. “There's a patch of scrubland not far from our house. Used to be a trailer park. You know it?”

A pause as Valenti spoke to his men. Then: “The jungle? Yeah. I know it.”

“Noon, tomorrow. Be there. I'll make sure Bull's there.” He hung up.

Jake turned to see his mom staring at him in fear and confusion. “Jake, what do you think you're doing?”

“It's okay, Mom,” Jake said seriously. “Trust me. I just need to make one more phone call.”

Jake remembered what Danny and Jola had said, that there are wild places in cities, too. . . .

The ring of disused trailers surrounding the clearing reminded Jake of a monument, a strange post-apocalyptic Stonehenge. Nearby, the woods waited, the perfect place to retreat to if it came to that. All sorts of trash lay piled up against the trailers: the remains of burned-out cars, old boxes and plastic bags, abandoned couches, and even a kid's plastic tricycle.

Jake sat waiting behind the largest trailer. It was two minutes to noon. Jake heard a car engine in the distance, growing nearer. Valenti was right on time.

He and Taylor had worked hard all morning to get ready. Now it was down to Jake. The trick was to not get cocky. He needed a hunter's patience.

Across the clearing a car pulled up. Two men stepped out from the front. Jake's chest tightened as he saw it was Blake and Lorenzo. A third figure emerged from the back,
squinting in irritation at the bright light. That had to be Valenti himself, all six-foot of him.

Here we go
, Jake thought. He pulled himself up a rusting ladder until he could perch on the trailer's roof and look down into the clearing.

Valenti stepped forward and arched his brow at the lanky, long-haired boy on the roof in front of him. “This what you wanted, kid? High noon, or whatever?”

“Something like that,” Jake called. The three men looked up to where he stood.

Valenti chuckled. “You got guts, I'll give you that. I guess you're the man of the house now, huh?”

“I don't hide behind hired thugs, if that's what you mean,” Jake said coolly.

Valenti's face darkened. “I want Bull, and I want my money. Hand 'em over. Or you'll wish you'd never crossed me.”

“What's the hurry?” Jake said, sitting down cross-legged on the trailer roof. “The way I hear it, people cross you all the time. You're too chicken to do your own killing.”

“You little brat,” Valenti spat. “I don't need to get my hands dirty takin' out trash, you understand me? When I pay for some guy to get hit, that guy gets hit. And Bull screwed up!”

“Boss . . . ,” Blake said cautiously.

“What?” Valenti yelled. “This kid's just a punk! He don't know who he's dealing with! You think I got to watch my mouth around him, huh?” He pulled a gun out of his coat
and waved it at Jake. “Last chance. Show me where Bull is.”

“In there,” Jake said. He pointed to one of the old trailers.

Valenti nodded to Blake. “Check it out.”

Blake pulled out his own pistol and hesitantly edged across the clearing. Fallen leaves rustled underfoot. He reached out and took hold of the trailer's door handle. He tugged.

“It's stuck,” he complained. “Rusty.”

“Pull harder!” Valenti ordered.

Blake gave the handle a vicious tug. The door flew open—and the loop of rope that had lain hidden under the leaves whipped tightly around Blake's leg. From his perch on top of the trailer, Jake could clearly see the tree branch he'd bent back to make the snare, and the rope that fed through a broken trailer window. As the trap fired, Blake was pulled off his feet. His gun flew up into the air, and his head cracked on the ground, knocking him out cold. Taylor's trap had worked.

One down,
thought Jake,
two to go.

“What the . . . ,” Valenti yelled, backing away.

The trailer door slammed back. Officer Grasso stepped out, gun in hand. “Freeze, the pair of you. You're under arrest.”

Valenti stood paralyzed for a moment. Jake knew what he must have been thinking. He'd boasted about paying to have people killed. He'd even talked about how Bull had “screwed up” a hit. And Officer Grasso had heard it all.

With a howl of frustration Valenti opened fire.

Officer Grasso ducked back inside the trailer. From somewhere close by came the whoop of a police siren.
Grasso's backup
, Jake thought. He lay down flat on the trailer roof, ducking the whirring bullets.

He heard Grasso return fire.

“I'm hit!” Lorenzo yelled.

Valenti cursed.

Jake heard feet running fast through dry leaves. He pressed down against the rusted metal. The backup would be here any second.

Suddenly Valenti came running right toward him—he was making a break for it.

But Jake was ready. As Valenti squeezed between two of the rusting trailers, Jake followed him above.

“There's no way out,” Jake called.

“Oh yeah? We'll see about that,” Valenti sneered. He raised his arm and fired up at Jake. Jake dodged just in time, pressing himself flat against the trailer roof. Then clambered to his feet and resumed the chase.

There was only one way to stop Valenti now.

21
With a howl of rage Jake jumped from the trailer roof. He crashed into Valenti, knocking him sprawling to the ground. The gun went off with a crack, reverberating in the air.

Jake tried to stand but couldn't. Searing pain shot up his left leg.
My ankle,
he realized painfully. It was clearly twisted.

Valenti scrambled to his feet. He loomed over Jake, readying his gun. Jake's boot had caught him in the face, and now blood streamed freely from the gangster's nose and over his bared teeth.

“Nowhere to run this time,” he said. “Lights out.”

Jake stared down the gun barrel.

Then a dark shape came striding out from the wreck of
a nearby trailer. A heavy fist shot out and whacked Valenti's head. His eyes rolled up and he collapsed, giving way from the knees up, like a building hit by a wrecking ball. He toppled over and lay still.

Jake blinked. It wasn't Officer Grasso. Instead a familiar, bearded face stared down at him.

“Dad?”

Jake felt strong arms lifting him up. The world swam in and out of focus. He lay draped across his dad's shoulder, smelling the familiar odor of leather and earth, the smell that meant he was safe.

Then he passed out.