Every Second

47

Somewhere in New York State

Lori Fulton stared hard through the cabin window and into the forest, refusing to look any longer at the computer screen Thorne held in front of her.

She looked at the treetops swaying in the late-day breezes until something inside her cracked.

She groped for answers, begging to be wrong about what she now knew to be true. What was happening to her family went beyond a robbery, beyond a hostage-taking.

Thorne pulled the computer away and returned to the table.

Lori’s mind swirled at his indictment.

You were chosen because of your crimes as nonbelievers!

With trepidation she turned toward the far corner and the tripod with the camera. It was then, for the first time, that she noticed the large knife leaning against the wall…waiting.

Let me show you what happens to nonbelievers!

She shut her eyes and prayed, then heard the subdued jingle of a chain as Billy stirred, groggily positioning himself with his head in her lap. Lori caressed his hair, hoping he wouldn’t feel her shaking fingers or her body trembling under him as her mind raced with a million fears, rocketing her back to her time in California, back to that night in Santa Ana…

…coming off a long night shift of piddling pain-in-the-ass calls, a suspicious vehicle, loud music, barking dog, homeless guy sleeping in a homeowner’s flower garden… Tim’s supremely happy…he and Charlene are trying for their first baby. They pull into a twenty-four-hour store for one last coffee to end the tour…says he’s dreaming of daddyhood…shifting the car into Park…joking about names-Brad for a boy, Angelina if it’s a girl…he steps out of the car away from the door, then he sees him…the guy’s backing out of the store, sparks blazing from the handgun he’s firing at people inside… Tim goes for his weapon…in a heartbeat… Lori’s coming around the car behind Tim and sees it all…in a heartbeat…the world slows…every second thudding in her ears…in a heartbeat…the shooter wheels, fires above the vest…a gout of blood blasts from Tim’s jaw, a clump of flesh rips from his neck…another round tears into his shoulder, knocking him back into her…sending them both to the ground…in a heartbeat…a deafening roar swells inside her…she catches Tim, her partner, a future dad…thinking…training…acting…she’s reaching for her weapon…in a heartbeat…the shooter’s firing again and she feels every round pounding into Tim…his body’s shielding her…in a heartbeat…gripping her weapon…raising it… Tim’s spasming torso absorbing rounds…and she’s firing…the shooter’s angry eyes fill with surprise…she empties her magazine into his chest, putting him down…in a heartbeat… Tim’s blood warming her… Brad for a boy, Angelina if it’s a girl…shouting…screaming…sirens…blood drenching her as Tim empties of life…she’s holding him…like she’s holding Billy now…

Lori opened her eyes, looking back at the trees.

In the time after they’d buried Tim, she’d helped the investigators and the district attorney, answering question after question. “You were where? Then what happened? What actions did Officer Rowland take? What actions did you take?” She’d gone to counseling, done all she could to hang on while inside she was descending into an abyss of pain, guilt, fear and rage.

Lori had been shown photos of the shooter, Malcolm Jordan Samadyh, who was only twenty-five years old and had already done time for armed robbery. Though her actions were justified, she had taken a life and it haunted her.

Then, on the steps of a civic building during the investigation, she’d run into Samadyh’s mother and brother. The devastation in their eyes had cut through her and she’d spoken from her heart.

“Every second of every day, I wish for everyone that it never happened,” she’d said, hoping that they might forgive her.

But Samadyh’s mother’s face had twisted into a mask of fury and she’d spat on Lori while the little brother’s eyes burned with hate, and then…then…everything clicked.

Lori looked to Thorne working on the laptop and suddenly knew. She’d barely recognized him from that chance meeting all those years ago, but now she knew without a doubt who he really was.

“You’re…Malcolm Samadyh’s brother, aren’t you? You’re Jerricko.”

He stared at her for a long moment but said nothing and turned back to his computer.

“Is that why you’re doing this?” she asked. “Because of what happened in California?”

He ignored her questions.

“Jerricko, your brother killed my partner, wounded others and tried to kill me.”

He threw her a chilling glare.

“My brother was a martyr.”

“Jerricko.” Lori kept her voice soft and quiet. “What happened was a horrible thing. I never wanted to hurt your brother but he killed my partner. I did what I did because I had no choice. You do. You don’t have to hurt more people. You can end this now-just let us go.”

He continued to work without speaking and Lori grew desperate.

“Please, Jerricko. Let us go. Please. I regret that night, you have to see that. I live with it every single day and I swear I wish it never happened.”

He stared at her, his face reddening with anger, letting a long silence pass.

“But it did happen,” he said.

“I’m so sorry.” Lori let a long tense moment pass. “I understand how you feel.”

“Understand? You don’t understand. Ignorant, arrogant people like you and other Americans like you, will never understand.”

“I want to understand. Help me to understand, so no more people get hurt, please.”

He stared at her, his eyes flashing with anger and pain.

“My mother never wanted to come to this country, but she loved her husband and followed him here. You cannot comprehend what that meant, leaving her home. She did her best to adjust. She’s a spiritual woman, she fasted, kept the holy days, our house was filled with prayer but what she saw every day all around her was the filth of this country.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the racism, the worship of sex, drugs, pornographic dancing and music. We were exposed to that filth every day and it infected my brother. He began drinking, smoking, pursuing women. It broke my mother’s heart because he was being disrespectful to God. She was losing him to your disgusting culture, which had poisoned him.”

“Yes, there’s a lot wrong with this country, but that’s because it’s a free, tolerant society. Jerricko, deep down we’re good people who want to live right and do the right thing.”

“Right thing? Is it right that you hate our babies and plan to kill them?”

“What do you mean? We don’t hate babies.”

“In Iraq, Syria, Afghanistan, you bomb our people, kill our babies and orphan our children. Look at the lives you destroy with your aggression, with your arrogant, evil foreign policy, you meddle in our affairs. By your actions you tell our people in all walks of life all around the world that you hate them and will kill them.”

“That’s not true. We don’t wish to kill children. It’s much more complicated than that.”

“No, it’s very simple.”

He stared at her.

“When we came to America my mother studied American politics and foreign policy. She taught us how 9/11 was created by the American government to make the US hate us, so it could lead an invasion against us. While she was here my mother kept in touch with family back home. They told her of the bombings, the killings that still continue day after day.”

Jerricko pointed to Cutty.

“He lost family in the bombings. So did the other two brothers on our team. We all did.”

Jerricko paused to reflect.

“When Malcolm went to prison he found God again. My mother was so pleased that her son had returned to his righteous path. In prison, he’d vowed to become a soldier in the war against this evil American genocidal policy. The night you killed him, he was trying to raise money for an operation to support the cause.”

Jerricko stared off.

“I loved him. My mother was drowning in grief. She called out for vengeance. For me, losing Malcolm was like an amputation. Part of me died that day, too, and I blame you, the face of the police-the tool of the US government in its war on my people.”

“Jerricko, it’s not like that. I’m so sorry about Malcolm, but it’s not like that.”

“Oh, yes, it is. You see, losing my brother hammered home the truth about the crimes committed by people like you in the name of your country. It meant I had to do something about the atrocities committed by your lying government. They force me to pay taxes to pay people like you to kill our brothers and sisters, here and in our homeland. You support this government. You are a tool of this government. You have blood on your hands. You are guilty and you will be punished. They call us radicalized, but the truth is we are blessed defenders of an oppressed people. We embrace our responsibility and will sacrifice our souls to it.”

“But my family…they’re innocent.”

“After my brother’s sacrifice, I spent a lot of time thinking about you and what you did. I studied your family and I learned that your husband was a banker-a greedy nonbeliever. It was then that I decided that the way to make you pay for your crimes would be one that would help me on my path. My brothers and I needed funds to accomplish our goals, so we tracked you down.”

“But I was the one involved. Punish me, but let my son and husband go. They’re innocent.”

“Innocent?” Jerricko sneered. “When I informed the council of your crimes and our plans, they convened a tribunal and ruled that you and your family are guilty. You’re all guilty. We’re going to make examples of you.”

“But my son…” Lori said. “He’s just a boy!”

“This is war. This is your fate. There’s nothing you can do.”

Jerricko closed his laptop, left the cabin to stand on the front deck.

Lori was numb on the mattress, her mind reeling.

…in a heartbeat…

Her lower lip trembled as she looked down on Billy.

… She saw Tim bleeding on her…

… She imagined Billy’s severed head…

Lori clamped her hands over her mouth, but inside she was screaming and screaming.