The Man Who Cheated Death

Chapter 14 Red Warriors

That night, Wondero watched a recording of Hardare’s stunt on his TV, drank a beer, watched it again, and when he was satisfied that he’d done the right thing, decided to go to bed.

On the way upstairs he ducked into the kitchen for another bite of dessert and discovered a disaster area. His wife had refined the art of preparing thirty minute dinners, the only complaint being the lack of restraint she showed in her tornado-like-spins around the kitchen each night. Whose turn was it to clean? His son’s? No, his daughter’s. He glanced at the wall calendar and saw his own initials penciled below the date.

He cleaned up, and rewarded himself with a piece of cherry cobbler topped with Ready Whip. While he ate, he thumbed through his son’s schoolbooks. Computer science, trigonometry and physics, subjects Wondero didn’t think had been invented when he was in school. Printed on the trig book’s jacket was this year’s football schedule, now completed. The Trojans had gone 12 and 0, with his son playing backup quarterback. On the bottom of the jacket, his son had written BEAT RED WARRIORS!

He thought back to his conversation with Jackson, the cop who’d found Tawny Starr dumped in the trash. One of the things Tawny had said to him was Red Warriors. He picked up the textbook and headed upstairs.

His son lay beneath a twirl of sheets, texting his girlfriend. Wondero hopped around the clothes strewn around the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. His son folded his phone.

“You ought to clean this mess up.”

“I did. You should have seen it before.”

“Very funny.” Wondero placed the textbook on the bed. “Tell me something. What does this mean, BEAT THE RED WARRIORS?”

“You don’t remember?”

“No. Refresh my memory.”

“Two years ago, the Trojans went to the Conference finals, and you took me down to San Diego to see the game. The other team was huge; half their guys had moustaches and beards. It looked like a scrimmage. About ten minutes before the game ended they started running up the score and then there was a huge clap of thunder and the skies opened up.”

And the field had looked like a sea of black mud, Wondero thought, recalling the nightmarish blackness of the sky as his son’s heroes on the varsity squad had gotten soundly trounced. “Those where the Red Warriors,” Wondero said.

“That’s right. State champs three of the past five years. And we’ve got to play them again this year in the finals.”

Textbooks. Tawny Starr had said Death was carrying textbooks, and now Wondero knew where they came from. Tomorrow he would talk to the San Diego police and the people who ran the high school where the Red Warriors played. Serial killers weren’t born, they were molded by their upbringings. The seeds were planted early, and maybe if he dug hard enough, someone would remember Death as a child.

To his son he said, “When’s the game?”

“Tomorrow.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I told you two weeks ago.”

“You should have reminded me. I’d have taken the day off.”

“Mom volunteered to go.”

They fell silent. Wondero had always tried to be there for his kids, and could not believe he’d forgotten his son’s game.

“I’m sorry, Craig. I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

“Dad, you’ve been chasing this freak since I was in eighth grade. It would be so great if you nailed him before...”

“Before what?”

“I went to college.”

Wondero patted him on the knee. He could not make any promises. “You playing away or at home?”

“At home.”

“Scared?”

“I have nightmares of them steam rolling us.”

What easy nightmares to have, Wondero thought. Getting beaten wasn’t so bad, once you got used to it. Life was a smorgasbord of great intangibles, things like sunsets and lifelong friendships, watching a family grow, flawless Sunday afternoons, and whether or not you won or lost had little bearing on real happiness. But that wasn’t what Craig needed to hear; after all, they were talking football, weren’t they?

He mussed his son’s hair. “Don’t worry about the game. Everything will turn out fine. You’re going to do great.”