Trent Reedy - Divided We Fall

She flipped to a news site where the headline read RODRIGUEZ VOWS BOISE SHOOTERS WILL BE PUNISHED “TO THE FULL EXTENT OF THE LAW.” Below that was another headline: SPECIAL FEDERAL PROSECUTOR PLEDGES TO PURSUE CIVIL RIGHTS VIOLATION CHARGES FOR BOISE SHOOTERS.

Becca snapped the cover over the screen. “The Internet is flooded with this stuff. People arguing back and forth on both sides. It doesn’t matter what Danny did or didn’t do in Boise.”

“People are looking to make someone pay for this,” Sweeney said.

Becca reached out and squeezed my arm. “And I think maybe this is all out of control, bigger than the issue of figuring out who shot who that night.”

It was my turn for a drink. It burned so bad that my eyes watered. “Well, obviously the Fed knows I was there in Boise and maybe that I fired a round. I wonder who else they’re after.” I hoped they wouldn’t release our names publicly. The less people who knew about this, the better. I took another slug of the whiskey. “Thanks, everybody, for coming with me today.”

Cal jumped down off the railing, and I swear the bridge shook a little. “We’re your friends, man.”

Becca held out her fist for a bump. “With you all the way.”

“And while all of this is really touching,” Sweeney said, “and I’m glad we didn’t get killed in the chase today, I know that neither the sheriff nor the governor could keep Coach Shiratori from killing us if we miss football practice tonight. We better head back. I’m driving.”

We piled into Sweeney’s Mustang, and I started back to school with the greatest friends and girlfriend a guy could have.

We rode in silence for a while. Finally, when we were about halfway to the school, JoBell put her head in her hands. “Oh, we’re going to be in so much trouble.”

“Um, about that.” Becca reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of gum. “Everybody chew this, so we don’t show up with alcohol on our breath.” She held the gum out to me. “Any chance the governor can get us off the hook with Mr. Morgan?”

“Relax,” I said. “If we didn’t get in trouble for that chase, they won’t touch us for skipping class. I think I can get Montaine to square things away with the school.” I hoped I was right.

“How?” Sweeney asked. He wasn’t doubting me. He sounded genuinely curious.

I pulled my comm and Sheriff Crow’s scrap of paper from my back pocket. “Governor Montaine sent me his personal comm number.”

“Bullshit!” Cal smiled. He grabbed the slip right out of my fingers.

JoBell took it from him and handed it back to me. “Oh, ’cause that’s so unbelievable after everything that’s happened today.”

“Well?” Sweeney said. “What are you waiting for?”

“What do you mean, what am I waiting for? Yeah, I’ve been to the governor’s mansion, but I was there along with my whole squad. It’s not like we’re best buddies. You’re talking about calling the governor. That’s a pretty big deal.”

“Do it!” Sweeney shouted.

“Hank, I want to add a new contact,” I said.

“My stars, you’re… a popular guy. You got it, buddy.”

I tapped Governor Montaine’s comm number into my contacts list. Sweeney looked over from the driver’s seat. “Get him on video,” he said. “I want to see him.”

“Hank, will you get me a video call with Governor Montaine?”

“Whooooie! You got friends… in high places. Calling now. Would… you like to hear one of my great country songs while—”

“Make the call, Hank,” JoBell said.

We waited for a long time. Montaine was the governor. On a normal day he was probably busy signing forms and attending meetings. Today he’d just ordered the arrest of seven FBI agents. I said, “He’s gotta be way too busy to—”

Wobbly live video popped onto the screen. Governor Montaine looked down at me. Behind his head was a white ceiling. He must have had his comm lying on his desk. “Private,” he said, “it’s good to see you’re safe. When my people got word that the FBI were making a move on your school, I knew they must have been after you. Sheriff Crow came as fast as he could but… Well, I heard about what happened. I’m glad you were able to get away.”

“Gross, you can see his nose hairs,” Cal whispered.

“Yeah, not his best angle,” whispered Becca.

“I can’t believe he’s actually talking to the governor,” Sweeney said quietly.

Montaine sat up straighter. “Is there someone there with you?”

I guess Sweeney hadn’t been quiet enough. I hope he hadn’t heard Cal. “My friends, sir. They were with me in the chase. They helped me get away.”

“Private, I told you not to tell anyone about what happened.” Montaine’s jaw trembled a little, as if he was trying to hold in his anger. “I can’t keep you and the others safe if too many people find out about this.”

“I trust them with my life, sir, and I won’t be telling anyone else.”

The governor pressed his lips together for a moment. I could tell he did not approve of me letting my friends in on the situation. Tough luck for him. “Well, I don’t know how much longer we can keep it a secret now that the Fed has identified you.”

“Ask about help with Morgan,” Becca whispered.

“Sir, I know you’re busy, but I wanted to thank you for sending the sheriff and his men to help us today, and I’m… well… We were wondering if you could pull some strings with the principal at Freedom Lake High School, you know, because we did skip classes today.”

When Montaine laughed, the creases around his eyes deepened. “I expect I can do something about that. In the meantime, for the safety of you and others, Private… kids” — JoBell and Sweeney frowned at his use of the word kids — “I expect that nobody else will know about this or about what happened at Boise. We’re doing our best to keep you safe, and I’ll be stepping up local law enforcement, but you still need to be alert and be on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary.”

That was almost funny. Since Boise, nothing had been ordinary.

“Wilco, sir,” I said. “Thanks for your help.”

Governor Montaine nodded. “We’ll be in touch.” He tapped out of the call.

The five of us went back to school, trying to act like everything was normal.

That night’s practice was rough. It was hard to focus after what had gone down, and I could have done a lot better. Still, for the most part, it felt great. Football. Normal, hard-hitting football. What fall during my senior year was supposed to be all about.

By the time I made it home, I was shaky and tired. Mom would arrive in a few minutes, so I put my comm and truck keys on the kitchen table and set the kettle for tea. I’d probably have some too, to calm myself down after an insane day.

One thing was sure: In a small town, the best way to make sure everybody knows something is to try to keep it a secret. The FBI had showed up at school asking about me, and a bunch of people had been in the office along with Sweeney. Nobody kept their mouths shut. All afternoon people shot me nervous or curious looks in the halls. Some of the guys on the team flat-out asked me what it was all about. I didn’t answer, but how long would it take for people to start figuring out the truth?

“Danny?” Mom called from the living room. I hadn’t heard her car roll into the driveway. Good. I’d fixed the belts and must have done a good job.