Craig Hickman - The Insiders

Back in the loft, they made up the bed and futon, pulled down the blinds on the windows, and tried to get some rest since neither of them had gotten much sleep in the past few days. Wilson was overjoyed to have Emily lying beside him again. As he closed his eyes to sleep, he wondered if the FBI or Hap’s men or the secret partnership would be able to trace a call if he used the pay telephone downstairs to contact Hap. He needed to make sure their families were safe. It was the last thought he remembered before falling asleep.

Rachel — Cambridge, MA

It was Rachel who smelled the smoke first, in the middle of hastily preparing to leave for a safe house. She yelled at Darrin, who had just arrived home from a job interview, to call 911. Then she ran upstairs to get her daughter and mother who were reading in the belfry library. “The house is on fire,” Rachel shouted running up the spiral staircase.

Her mother and little Mary met her at the top of the stairs with looks of astonishment on their faces. “What’s happening?” her mother gasped.

“The house is on fire. We’ve got to get out,” Rachel blurted before coughing uncontrollably. The three of them descended one after another down the spiral staircase into the hallway, toward the main staircase now filled with smoke.

Darrin came running from the kitchen, scooped his daughter into his arms, and grabbed Rachel’s hand. Rachel’s other hand held onto her mother’s. As the four of them ran together down the wide hallway toward the front door, there was an explosion in the east parlor. Flames shot across their exit path, engulfing the front door in fire and smoke. They quickly turned around and ran for the French doors at the back of the house, but before they could reach them, there was another explosion. All four of them were thrown to the ground by the blast.

Disoriented and coughing as she lay on the floor, Rachel could barely discern the sirens and breaking glass before she lost consciousness. When she regained awareness, she had a plastic oxygen mask over her nose and mouth and was being wheeled into the back of an ambulance. She raised herself up from the gurney to see where her family was, but all she could see was Darrin wrestling with one of the paramedics.

“What’s wrong?” she screamed, managing to remove the plastic mask from her face.

The paramedic attending her replaced the mask and pushed her back down onto the gurney, telling her that her mother and daughter were fine. Then she heard gunshots and immediately raised herself up again, just in time to see her husband fall to the ground. She ripped the mask from her face and tried to get up, but the paramedic shoved her back down and stuck a gun in her face.

Rachel screamed as she rolled off the gurney onto the floor of the ambulance. There were more gunshots with blood splattering everywhere inside the ambulance. The bodies of two paramedics dropped beside her, one of them pinning her arm to the floor.

Gunfire continued outside the ambulance for several more seconds. When it stopped, Rachel drew her arm out from under the lifeless body and scrambled out of the ambulance to find her husband who was lying unconscious on the ground. He’d been shot in the shoulder and was being lifted onto a gurney by one of Hap Greene’s men and another man she’d never seen before.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” said the man she’d never seen before. He motioned to another ambulance that was coming up the driveway. “Your husband’s got a minor shoulder wound and a nasty bump on his head, but he should be fine. Your mother and daughter are already on their way to the hospital. They’re fine. Just suffering from a little smoke inhalation and a few bruises like you.”

“Who are you and what happened?” Rachel said as she walked beside her husband’s gurney, clinching his hand.

“Sorry, ma’am. Special Agent Frandsen, FBI,” he said. “I think you know Johnson here.”

Rachel nodded as she acknowledged Hap Greene’s man who was keeping pressure on Darrin’s shoulder to reduce the bleeding.

“The crew of paramedics that arrived after the fire broke out weren’t real paramedics. They tried to kidnap your mother when Hap Greene and your husband intervened.”

She felt dizzy, almost losing her balance as they loaded her husband into the ambulance.

“Get this woman a gurney,” Special Agent Frandsen shouted as he grabbed Rachel around the waist to keep her from falling.

Rachel began losing consciousness as scenes of an apocalypse ran through her mind. How had things gone so terribly wrong? Where’s my daughter? Mother?

As the paramedics loaded her into the ambulance, Rachel began coughing uncontrollably, throwing her body into convulsions.

“Will we ever be safe again?”

Wilson — Bailey Island, ME

Wilson woke up bathed in sweat. He immediately looked at his watch. It was fifteen minutes after five o’clock in the evening. They’d slept for more than three hours. Montsweag’s would be closing in fifteen minutes. Wilson bolted down the stairs to the pay phone on the wall outside the marina store. It was raining hard.

After punching the numbers into the pay phone, he heard a woman’s voice, “Montsweag’s Whale Watching and Sightseeing Excursions.”

“We rented a boat this morning. It’s in my girlfriend’s name Emily Klein. We left…”

“Let me get Mr. Montsweag,” she interrupted.

As Wilson waited on the line, he wondered what Carter was doing.

A few seconds later, a deep gruff voice came on the line. “Son, the police have been here looking for the two of you.”

Wilson’s heart sank as he looked around him in the pouring rain, trying to discern if anyone was watching. “What did they want?” Wilson asked, looking at his watch and trying to remember how long it took to trace a call. It had already been twenty seconds or so.

“Some kind of emergency at home. They didn’t say anymore than that.”

Wilson braced himself against the wall of the marina store to keep his balance and hung up the phone. Then, he called the number, again, “Sorry. I was cut off.”

“Where are you?” Montsweag said when he got on the line, again.

“We got stuck in the storm. We’re fifty miles north in Stonington.”

“Where you stayin?”

“Uh. Don’t know yet,” Wilson replied, attempting to keep his composure. “Probably at the Inn by the old Opera House.”

“Okay. Better call home, son. You can bring the boat back tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Mr. Montsweag,” Wilson said, panicking inside. He entered the marina store to get more quarters. As he looked around, nothing seemed out of place. Jaclyn was still behind the counter waiting on customers. When she got to Wilson, she asked, “How many nights are you planning to stay?”

“Can I let you know in the morning?” Wilson asked.

“Sure,” she said. “I need an imprint of your credit card.”

“I’ll pay cash. How much?”

“Off season rate is $89. With food and tax, it’s $122.41.”

Wilson gave her seven twenty-dollar bills and asked for the change in quarters. Luckily she had several rolls of quarters. She grabbed two and cracked them open.

Back at the pay phone, Wilson dialed Hap Greene’s emergency number and then deposited two dollars and fifty cents.

A woman’s voice answered, “Hello.”

“Who’s this?” Wilson asked, startled.

“Wilson? Is that you? This is Agent Kohl.”

“Where’s Hap?”

“We can’t talk on this phone. Call me back at 212-555-0004.”

Wilson hung up, dialed the new number, and deposited another two dollars and fifty cents.

Kohl’s voice came on the line, “Wilson?”