Gone (Michael Bennett)

was too heavy.
    It was kicked out of her hand.
    “Why?” said a voice.
    Vida looked up with her good eye. The blond woman, Mary Catherine, was above her. So pretty, so American looking. Like a girl in a Coca-Cola ad.
    Blood from the open artery in Vida’s neck sprayed softly against the dirt wall in a pinkish mist. She could actually feel the life going out of her, her heart slowly losing whatever magic it was that made it beat. Her soul was slowly losing its grip on her body, like a man hanging off the edge of a cliff. She was dwindling now, winding down.
    “For money?” Mary Catherine said sadly.
    Vida could see that she was crying.
    “They’re just kids, you know. Kids. Don’t you remember being a kid? Don’t you have kids where you come from?”
    Vida put her good hand to her belly, cupping it. Her baby. Her prince. The bright, searing pain of it all spiked through her. What would be, what would not.
    The last thing she felt was a single tear running down the intact side of her face as the tunnel lights dimmed.

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER 104
     
    IT WAS A LITTLE before noon when I got out of the state-police car in the crowded yard out in front of Cody’s house. It looked like the entire Susanville police force was there, along with agents from the US Marshals and local FBI.
    It also looked like a party. Out back, Cody had his huge, smoking barbecue going as some country-western song blasted from a radio in the window. Something about God being great and beer being good and people being crazy.
    Count me in , I thought as I hit the stairs for the deck.
    Cody actually handed me a beer after I shook his hand, despite the fact that it wasn’t even noon. I immediately cracked open the can of Coors and tapped it to the one Cody was working on before I took a swig.
    “Sorry for all the trouble I brought down on you, Aaron. I almost got you killed.”
    The old cowboy grinned.
    “Many have tried, Mike. My two brothers, my drill instructor, the Vietcong. Hell, even my first wife. But luckily, none of them seemed to figure it out.”
    He pointed his beer toward the field beside the horse barn.
    “Now, go see your family. They been missing you, I hear.”
    I walked over slowly, watching my kids play Frisbee with Cody’s dogs. In the immaculate blue sky above them, a bunch of hawks were playing, swooping and circling as if they wanted to join in.
    Beside the field, Mary Catherine and Seamus were sitting at a picnic table. Seamus saw me as I stepped up, but I put a finger to my lips as I stood behind Mary Catherine. I looked down at her, her blond hair, the self-possessed way she carried herself. If this was a dream, then I simply wasn’t going to wake up.
    I leaned forward and put my hands over her eyes.
    “Guess who?” I said in her ear.
    She stood, squealing, and hugged me, clung to me unabashedly. I clung back just as hard. At that moment, I felt it leave us. The animosity that had been between us for the last few months. All hatchets were buried, all fouls erased. Because we still had each other. We still had everything that counted.
    Life and love and time.
    Without hesitating, we also started kissing. When we broke it up, we were both crying. We looked over at Seamus, who was sitting there blinking up at us, flummoxed, speechless. I leaned over and loudly kissed Seamus on the top of his bald head.
    “Have ye gone mad, Mike?” Seamus said, pushing me away as he rubbed his head. “You haven’t gone Hollyweird on us down there in LA?”
    Before I could answer, I turned around to the sound of screaming kids. They were still sweaty and dirty from their time in the hippie bomb shelter, and now they were covered in the soda and ice cream that Cody insisted they have for lunch. They looked like ragamuffins, like chimney sweeps, like the Little Rascals. In a word, beautiful.
    I started crying again a little as I embraced them one by one. I had thought they were dead, and now they were alive. It was like they’d been resurrected.
    “Look at you,” I said, wiping my eyes after I hugged Fiona. “You’re filthy.”
    “I don’t mean to be rude, Dad, but you don’t look so hot yourself,” Fiona said, pointing at my face bandage.
    “Well, it’s been a long day, hasn’t it?” I said. “A long couple of days and nights for you.”
    “Face it, Pop. It’s been a long nine months!” said Brian, fingering the Frisbee. “So what’s the story?”
    “What do you mean?” I said, feigning ignorance.
    “He