Freedom

CHAPTER 2

Even within the confines of the subway car, Dane covered his ears as the screech of steel wheels sent a shrieking tremor down his spine.

North Station, the screechy, tinny voice called out. Exit on the right, please. Thanks for riding the T.

The doors slid open. A wall of exhaust and thick, humid air hit him right in the face. Who would have thought Boston could make him miss the sweltering heat of South Florida?

“I really don’t get why we’re doing this.” Dane grimaced and surveyed the scene. “I was all ready for a nice evening of resting up from the flight and doing absolutely nothing. But no, Bonebrake, you had to drag me out here.”

“Relax, Maddock.” Bones gave Dane’s shoulder a friendly shake. “You’re wound up tighter than my grandmother’s girdle. Loosen up and get into the spirit of things. We’re on leave, dude. Guys like us, we’re supposed to have a few drinks, maybe get into a fight. You know, experience life.”

They turned right and headed down the stairs to the turnstiles. Another passageway skewed off to their left, across Causeway Street. Several people walked that way, some wearing replica Red Sox jerseys. “Cheer up. You’re going to get to study that Colonial History stuff that you like so much.”

“I was going to do that… after I slept,” Dane countered, “but somebody wouldn’t shut up until I agreed to go drinking with him.”

Bonebrake smirked as they passed through the turnstiles and headed down the long staircase and out to the street. Dane looked around and saw the filth that coated the once-green steel of the elevated subway station, as if exhaust fumes clung to the metal and constricted it, squeezing the life out of the neighborhood. They entered the converging shadows as they walked along the sidewalk adjacent to the decaying Boston Garden. Several of the street level store fronts were empty, the windows blackened. Dane wrinkled his nose at the acrid stench of stale urine.

“We’ve already learned one new thing about Boston.” Bonebrake fanned the air in front of his nose. “It’s apparently the world’s biggest urinal.”

Dane smirked. He refused to laugh at Bonebrake’s wisecracks. He still couldn’t believe Maxie had bullied them into this trip. Then again, Maxie was a good judge of character. If he saw something in Bonebrake, Dane knew he ought to give the guy a chance.

They walked a few more feet before Bonebrake guided him through an open door. “Now, this is my kind of place.”

Dane grimaced. It was exactly what he’d envisioned, perhaps “feared” would be a better word, when Bonebrake suggested they go out for a few beers. It wasn’t a high-class establishment where the wood had a high glossy shine on the bar, or well lit during the day to let potential customers know it was open to quench a hearty Bostonian thirst. Bonebrake had laid out their options for him: this place, or a bar in something called the Combat Zone. Dane had figured this to be the safer option. No telling what Bonebrake might get them into in a place with that name.

They sat down at the bar. Several televisions surrounded the perimeter, most tuned to pregame coverage of the Red Sox at Fenway Park. One had Keno playing, the timer ticking down to the next game. The place wasn’t nearly half-full. A few men played pool in the corner, the crack of the stick against the ball rising above the blended sounds of conversation, laughter, and baseball talk. Outside and above, the sounds of another subway train rolled through the station. A motorist honked their horn.

“Nice ambience. It’s like drinking in the middle of a traffic jam.”

Bonebrake shook it off. “Relax, dude. You need a drink, and an hour with the skankiest chick I can hook you up with.”

Dane winced. “Does your voice have a volume control?”

Bonebrake made a face as the bartender approached.

“What can I get you guys?”

Dane ordered a Dos Equis, which earned him a sneer from the bartender, while Bonebrake ordered a Samuel Adams. The bartender proffered two bottles, one green and one brown. He removed the caps and passed them over on warped cardboard coasters. Dane paid and took a long drink, enjoying the rich flavor, the feel of the cool liquid sluicing down his throat, and the chilled bottle smooth in his hand.

“Thanks for the drink. Next round’s on me.” Bonebrake held up his bottle, “A toast to Maxie and the United States Navy. May they and all the babes we meet tonight regret our first leave as Navy SEALs.”

“We’re not all the way through training,” Dane clinked his bottle against Bonebrake’s.

“Yeah, but the hard part’s over.”

“You think so, do you?”

“Maddock, some guys see the glass as half-empty. You see it as half-empty and filled with poison. You know that?”

Dane made no reply. It wasn’t the first time he’d been told he was a pessimist. They settled into an awkward silence and Dane tried to gather in the ambiance of the run-down sports bar, what little it had. Truth was, calling it a dive would be high praise. A few items of sports memorabilia hung on the once salmon-colored walls.

Dane wasn’t a huge sports fan, but he recognized the teams and faces. Pictures of Bruins retired numbers superimposed on the black and yellow spoked B, while a large photo of Bobby Orr hanging in mid-air took up half of a wall. Images of Larry Bird, Bob Cousy, Bill Russell and Red Auerbach held up a Celtics-themed wall, while still more of Ted Williams, Carl Yastrzemski and a young Roger Clemens were behind the bar. A solo minuteman huddling over a football held a special place among the mementoes. Other than that, it was dark, dirty, and the clientele, if the patrons could call themselves that, wore tank tops and cut-off jean shorts, most favoring a few days’ stubble.

Dane looked to Bonebrake. While he sported neither a dirty tank top, nor stubble running along his jawline, the tall Indian wore a garnet and black-colored South Carolina basketball jersey with the number 22 on the front, along with khaki shorts, bright red Converse high tops, and no socks. They cut an odd figure, Dane in a Hawaiian shirt and Nikes a few sizes smaller than his cohort’s gunboats.

Dane absent-mindedly picked at the green label with his fingernail. He didn’t know how this weekend would play out. He and Bonebrake drove each other nuts, though Dane felt he had reasons aplenty to dislike the man. Bonebrake was abrasive, obnoxious, and immature. On the positive side of the ledger, he had the mettle to complete the first stages of SEAL training. He finished pulling the label off and dropped it on the bar. Bonebrake laughed and flicked the label onto the floor.

“What’s so funny?” Dane asked, turning to his partner.

“You, dude. You’re so sexually frustrated. How many labels have you pulled off bottles of beer in the past two years?”

“Oh, come off it. I’m not sexually frustrated, Bonebrake.”

“Hey, I told you. My name is Bones.”

“Sorry.” He paused. “What kind of name is Bones, anyway?”

“It’s just a nickname I picked up when I was just a little redskin.”

Dane blinked. Bones loved to make people uncomfortable by throwing around derogatory terms about his own heritage.

“Many moons ago, long before I first pulled handle on slot machine.”

“Okay, I get it.” Dane took another drink.

“No, I don’t think you do, dude. You don’t get me at all.”

“What I get is that you don’t have a serious,” he paused and grimaced, “bone in your body.”

Bones threw his head back and laughed. “You said serious bone. Sexually frustrated, just like I said. Speaking of which, I wonder if there are any ladies who might like to enjoy my…”

“That’s what I mean. You think everything’s a joke.”

“And you don’t know how to lighten up.” Bones gestured with his bottle. “If you’d get over yourself, maybe some of your comrades in arms, other than yours truly, would warm up to you. Maybe a few girls, too.”

“I don’t know.” Dane took another swig of beer, remembering what Bones had said to him the previous day. That’s why nobody likes you. People respected him, he was sure of that. Maybe Bones was right. He didn’t exactly have any close friends in the service. “I’m fine with the way things are.”

“That’s sad, bro. There’s a lot more to life than following the rules.”

Dane suppressed the sudden impulse to punch Bones, but he’d been there, done that, and it hadn’t helped things. In fact, the fight seemed to make Bones like him even more. Now, he’d made it his personal mission to lighten Dane up, or at least convince him he was too rigid. He turned to stare at Bones, who stared out across the bar.

“That’s not cool.”

Dane followed Bones’ gaze to the far corner of the bar, where two young women were trying to evade the attentions of an aggressive bar patron. Neither could have been more than twenty years old; probably college kids with fake IDs who were looking for adventure and got more than they bargained for.

“I think I’ve found my first fight of the evening.” Bones cracked his knuckles and made to slip down off his bar stool.

“I got it.” Dane set his shoulders and marched across the bar. He knew Bones was eager for a brawl, but he didn’t want to spend the evening trying to bail a guy out of jail who wasn’t even his friend, and he certainly didn’t want to get locked up along with him. With Dane’s luck, they’d probably wind up in the same cell. He imagined calling Maxie and telling him they’d been arrested. That would be fun.

The man had the two girls corralled in the corner, his hands pressed against the wall on either side of them.

“There you are.” Dane shouldered the man aside without even looking at him and reached out to take the girls’ hands. “Dad’s been looking for you. We need to hit the road.” Surprise and gratitude mingled on the girls’ faces. And they followed Dane to the door. “I don’t think this is the sort of place you two ought to be hanging around,” he told them.

“Definitely not.” The shorter of the two reached up and dragged a fingernail down his chest. “We’re gonna find a club or something. Want to come with?”

Dane smiled. Her slender figure, glossy black hair and sparkling blue eyes held plenty of appeal, but she was a kid. “How old are you two, really?”

“Nineteen.” The girl blushed and her friend giggled.

“You two have a good night and stay out of dives like this.”

He returned to the bar to discover Bones had ordered up another round. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem.” Bones paused. “Tell me something, and I’m not trying to give you a hard time here, I really want to know. Why didn’t you drop that guy?”

Dane sighed. “I wanted to, but I guess I’m always thinking a few steps ahead. I punch the guy, he calls the cops, I go to jail, maybe both of us if you mouth off, we have to call Maxie and it gets worse from there.”

“That’s why you take it outside. Insult his manhood, get him all riled up so he can’t refuse, then you go out back where nobody can see, take him out quick, and run. He’ll probably be too embarrassed to call the cops, nobody likes admitting he got his ass kicked, but even if he does, you’ve already found another bar long before they take the report. Besides, you’re a stranger to him. Which is why I always pay with cash. Can’t get my name off a credit card receipt that way.”

“So you do think ahead.”

“Sure. The difference between you and me is, you plan for the worst, I plan for the awesomest.”

“That’s not a word, you know.”

“Seriously, Maddock, how many beers is it going to take for you to be… human?”

Dane found himself laughing. “Cheers, Bones.” This time, when they clinked their bottles together, it didn’t feel like compulsory behavior. “Speaking of not acting human, what is it with you and defaming your heritage?”

“Defaming?” Bones sat his bottle on the bar and furrowed his brow.

“Yeah. You’re not really what I picture when I think of a Native American. You throw around words that others find offensive, like redskin.”

“I love their football team! I’ve got two or three of their jerseys. Plus the Braves, Blackhawks, the Tarheels…”

“So, you’re from North Carolina, you like teams with Native American mascots, yet you’re wearing a South Carolina jersey?”

“Are you kidding? South Carolina are the ‘Cocks. Those corn-fed South Carolina girls like those big old strong…”

“I get it, I get it.”

“Seriously, though. I do like to shock people and piss them off a little.” Bones paused, spinning the bottle in his hands. “But most folks are too uptight about the whole thing. They’re all gung ho about political correctness, getting their loincloths in a twist. Yet here they are, opening casinos on tribal lands, trying to make a buck. They want people to think they worship the old gods and hold the old ways, but they worship the almighty dollar like the rest of us. They’re so damn serious about getting offended- they’re like you, only with burnt umber skin.”

Dane huffed his amusement. “You’re a deeper thinker than I thought.”

“Lower people’s expectations and it’s easier to take them by surprise.”

They lapsed into companionable silence. Bones amused himself by whistling into the mouth of his empty bottle and looking around the bar. “Hey, Maddock. You remember the advice I gave you about taking it outside?”

“Sure.”

“Good. You’re going to need it, because it looks like that dude finally got up the courage to make something of it.”