Andrew Klavan - The long way home

You seemed so committed.

Why? Why did I seem so committed? What had happened to make Sherman think I was one of them?

"You worked on me just like you worked on Alex," I said. "You recruited me to become one of the Homelanders."

"Oh, I told them. I told them," Sherman said. "The situation was just so perfect, it would've been foolish to pass it up." He said this in a kind of whiny, self-defensive voice. It was as if he were arguing with the Homelanders again, trying to convince them to let him recruit me. The argument going on in his mind seemed to make him agitated. He began pacing back and forth in front of me, moving one hand as he talked so that the flashlight beam danced wildly around the room.

I began to shift my legs a little beneath me, began to see if I could maneuver myself into a position to strike.

"I mean, after the police found Alex's blood on your clothing," Sherman went on, excited. "After that, I knew if we just helped them along, if we just… supplied the murder weapon with your DN A, we might clinch the deal and get you convicted. It was perfect! A true believer like you! When you saw how unjust everything was-how your precious American system failed you-how God failed you when he didn't send his angels down from heaven to rescue you from being sent to prison-I figured you'd be bitter then, angry, betrayed-the perfect moment for me to get you to see the light. And you did. You did see the light. Better than Alex ever did. You understood everything, just like I thought you would. You were one of us, Charlie. I know you were. You couldn't have been pretending. I told Prince-I told him-but he just wouldn't believe me."

Prince. I knew that name. I'd heard it when the Homelanders captured me. He was their leader. The head of the organization. I was beginning to understand.

"Prince was afraid I was going to betray you like Alex did," I said.

Sherman snorted, getting more agitated, pacing back and forth faster, waving the flashlight around. "Prince! He was convinced you were working for someone else. He was convinced you were trying to infiltrate us."

The idea sent a thrill of hope through me. Maybe that was the answer. Maybe I was working for someone else, joining the Homelanders only to bring them down. "He thought I was working for the law against you," I said. "He thought I was some kind of spy for the police or something."

I untangled my legs a little more, a little more. Not so much that he would notice, just enough that I'd be able to move quickly.

"I told him that was ridiculous. I told him," Sherman whined.

Of course he had. Because if Sherman had recruited me, and I was some kind of spy, then Sherman was to blame. And I bet when this Prince guy blamed you for something, you didn't survive the experience. So that's why Sherman had come here alone tonight. He was hoping to prove I was innocent, hoping to prove he'd been right to recruit me, right to trust me to become part of his organization. He was hoping to get the information he needed to save himself from Prince's retribution.

Which gave me an idea. Sometimes the simple truth is the best strategy you can come up with.

"I've lost my memory," I told Sherman.

Sherman stopped pacing. He shone the flashlight on me. I saw his eyes gleaming as he stared. "What? What did you say?"

"I never betrayed anybody, Mr. Sherman. I didn't infiltrate anybody. I couldn't get Prince to believe me. I couldn't get anyone to understand. It's not that I'm against you. It's that I just don't remember."

"But how…?"

"I don't know. I don't remember. I don't remember anything. A whole year is gone."

"How can that happen? That doesn't make sense."

"I know… but it's true. I didn't betray you, I swear. I just can't remember."

For another moment, Sherman stared, openmouthed. Then I saw his teeth flash in the shadows. He was smiling.

"But that explains it," he said. I could hear the hope in his voice. "That makes sense. You didn't mean to betray us. You just lost your memory-and when you lost your memory, you lost…"

"All the work you'd done convincing me."

He gave a little laugh to himself as if in wonder. It was all coming clear to him now. I could practically hear him thinking it through. This explanation might get him off the hook with Prince. If he could convince his leader that I was telling the truth, that I'd lost my memory, then it wouldn't be as if he'd brought a spy into the organization. It wouldn't be his fault.

"They captured me," I said. "They tortured me. But I couldn't tell them anything because I didn't remember. I escaped to stay alive, that's all. If they hadn't tried to kill me, I wouldn't have run."

"Right," said Sherman, still thinking about it. "Right. That makes sense."

"I've just been really confused," I said earnestly-as earnestly as I could. (Beth was right: I could be a pretty decent liar when I put my mind to it.) "Trying to figure out what's right, what's wrong. Trying to figure out who my friends are."

Sherman kind of grunted-that was his only answer. He was still thinking about this, still trying to figure out how he could use it to get himself out of trouble. He was distracted-and that was good. The gun was making him overconfident. But he was standing just a little too far away for me to get to him.

I needed to get him talking again, pacing again if I could.

"In fact, there's something I've really been wondering about," I said. "Something that doesn't make any sense to me. These Homelander guys-Prince and the rest- they're Islamo-fascists, right? They're trying to make everyone follow their religion. But you don't even believe in God. How come you're working with them?"

He waved this question away with a quick motion of his gun. "I explained this to you a million times, Charlie. A million times."

"I know, but that's what I'm saying. I don't remember."

"We're using them. The Islamos. We're just using them. We have a common goal, so we're working together for the time being." That did it. He got excited again. He started pacing back and forth in front of me again. Waving the flashlight around as he explained. "We both want to bring this country down, drive it into chaos. That's the first step, the all-important step. But once we've achieved that, we'll get rid of them. Because we don't want any more gods. We want a system of fairness, of equality, everyone with the same amount of money, everyone with the same beliefs, no one allowed to say things that offend other people…"

He turned and paced back. It brought him closer to me. Almost within reach.

Sherman went on. "Freedom is a mistake, Charlie. Freedom means imperfection. Freedom means inequality and injustice. Freedom means some people getting rich while others don't. When people make their own choices, they make mistakes, they do cruel things. The Islamos want to destroy freedom for their own purposes, for their own way of life. But who cares why they do it as long as they get it done."

He went past me again, a little closer, waving the flashlight, thinking, talking.

"We need them now because they have the commitment and the guns, but as soon as we have this country in flames…"

He turned. He paced back. Closer. Close enough.

"… we'll be able to establish a new…"

I tripped him.

It was a dangerous move, but it was the best I could do. With that gun of his waving around, I knew I might catch a bullet, but I also knew he'd kill me eventually anyway.

So I took my chance. I snapped one leg out in front of me. I shot the foot behind his ankle. I brought the other leg back fast and pistoned it out again in a kick to his knee.

The swift pincer move knocked his leg out from under him. The flashlight beam shot into the air as Sherman tumbled over. He went down to the floor. He dropped the light-but not the gun.