Whirlwind

24

Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex, Texas

Caleb Cooper was screaming.

One-hundred-decibel, nerve-shredding wailing.

Remy tried everything to make him stop, but Mason was the one who needed calming. He was causing the upheaval, rampaging through their belongings again, looking for dope or reasons to stay pissed off at her.

His fit of rage was a repeat of yesterday’s explosion after their brush with death on the freeway. Mason had lost his mind, took the baby and stomped into the field to do God knows what. It was all that Remy could do to talk him down, persuade him to give up the baby and get back in the truck.

The incident had not only shaken them, it had intensified Mason’s cravings and inflamed his fears that they were being pursued, to the point that Remy’s brain began throbbing with the onset of a spell.

“Mason, I swear if you don’t stop it my head is going to explode!”

Remy was cradling the baby, but in her agitated state her attempts to rock him turned into rigid bouncing, which worsened matters.

Mason had ransacked her clothes and the baby things. Then he grabbed the bigger suitcase they’d packed from their apartment. Zippers whizzed, he opened it and rifled through it.

“Mason. Mason, listen to me- Shh-shh.” Remy raised her voice over the baby, punctuating her sentences with attempts to stop Caleb’s screeching. “I don’t have your stuff. Shh-shh. Did you check the truck?”

Mason ignored her and went to the window.

Last night, to assuage his suspicions, they’d packed up, with Remy grabbing extra soap and shampoo, then moved from their motel and into this fleabag dump, the Tumbleweed Dreams Motel, on the west side of the Metroplex. Standing at the window taking inventory of the parking lot, Mason rubbed his lips then ran his hands through his hair, tugging at it when he’d reached a decision.

He marched to Remy’s night table and seized her purse.

“What the fu- Mason! What’s wrong with you?” Remy stood, baby in her arms, and shot out one hand to reclaim her bag.

Mason turned, dumped the contents on the second bed, pushing Remy off until he found the card for the surrogate agency with penned names and cell numbers. He held it before Remy’s face.

“Call them now!”

Remy snatched the card back. Mason surrendered her bag and with one hand Remy began scooping her things back into it.

“I told you I will call them when it’s time.”

“What the hell are you waiting for?”

“For the idiot mother to stop searching for her baby.”

“She’s never going to stop. What mother would? We’re running out of time. Call the agency, close the deal and we’re done.”

“I will do this my way. It’s been working so far, hasn’t it?”

“The longer we wait, the riskier it gets. We’re running out of time and money. The agency’s likely got people looking for us ever since we left. You signed a contract with them, took a lot of money then disappeared without delivering a baby. And there’s a chance that police are looking for this baby, too, since it’s been in the news.”

It was all true, but Remy pursed her lips.

“And,” Mason added, “how the hell are you going to pass off this five-month-old baby as a one-month-old? Even the doctor at the shelter thought he was big for three months.”

“Stop being so negative, Mason. It’s all going to work out,” Remy said. “We just need to wait a little bit, then we’ll have our money, then we’ll start the life we’ve been dreaming of, the life we deserve. Trust me, babe.”

“I can’t wait a little bit. Things are slipping away. I just want to get our cash and get the hell out of here.”

“We just need a bit longer.”

“You know what I think, Remy? I think the truth is you don’t want to give this baby up.”

She didn’t say anything.

“I think that after losing your baby, you’re going through something. You’re getting attached to this one and you’re delaying things because deep down you want to keep him.”

“That’s not true.”

Mason got his gun from his bag, pulled the slide back and released it. The gun clicked as it chambered a round from the magazine into the barrel.

“It’s not going to happen.” Mason pointed his gun at the baby.

“Mason, no!”

“We’re not keeping that kid under any circumstances, Remy. Is that clear?”

“Put the gun down, Mason! Stop being an asshole!” Without blinking Remy shoved the gun aside. “If we lose this child, we lose everything.”

Mason stood there for several seconds until he cooled down, then he lowered his hand, removed the magazine and the round, tossing them with the gun on the bed.

The baby’s crying forced Remy to shift her attention. She put him on the bed and started preparing a bottle for him when there was a knock on the motel room door.

The chain was up and the door was bolted. Mason went to the peephole. A fish-eyed view of the manager in his stained T-shirt filled it.

“What is it?” Mason asked.

“You gotta keep it down in there-people are complaining. If I get any more shit, I’m calling the police.”

Mason shook his head.

“Yeah, we got it. Sorry, buddy,” he said.

Mason went to the bed, collected his gun and magazine.

“Mason, wait. What are you going to do?”

“Something I should’ve done a long time ago. I’m taking charge of our situation.”

“Mason!”

“Don’t do anything or call anybody. I’ll be back.”

He waited at the window for the manager to clear the front walk then, ignoring Remy’s pleas, he left her alone with the baby.