Stephen White - Warning Signs

"Seriously."

"My mom. She told me. She'd tell me anything. Never made me feel stupid. Then she died."

Lucy felt the flirtation that was developing between them evaporate like water splashed on a griddle. She knew that the strategic advantage she'd been nurturing evaporated along with the teasing. She said, "I'm so sorry, Jason. About what happened to your mom. It sounds like you two were very close."

He leaned over the edge of the cot and said, "Thanks for saying that. I'm sorry about what happened with you and your mom, too. At least I got a lot of memories with mine. You don't even have that."

"No, I don't even have that."

"Lots of wives and sisters and daughters die because of the stupid way the system works. So this… thing I'm doing, it's really about lots of moms. Everyone has to remember that. It's not just about my mom."

"It's about sons and brothers and fathers, too?"

"Yeah."

Lucy said, "What was she like? Your mom?"

"I don't think I want to talk about her."

"You know, I'm no expert on mothers, that's for sure," Lucy said. "But she sounds very special."

Ramp's jaw took on a tight set. He said, "They won't find you here. In case that's what you're hoping. They might be looking for you, but…" His voice faded away.

"Oh," Lucy said.

"Nobody knows that I'm here. That we're here, in this trailer. Not even Marin knows where I'm planning to spend the night. The truck I'm using won't be missed for a couple of days. My company thinks it's in the shop with transmission trouble."

Lucy fought a fresh flush of despair. She needed to keep him talking. "How did you know her? Marin?"

"We met on the Web. In a chat room."

"Complaining about the justice system?"

"Yeah."

"You recruit her?"

"I guess. Didn't take much effort. It was more like I invited her. She was as angry as I was. You know what happened to her a few years ago?"

"Yes, I do. I didn't work the case but I knew a lot about it. Are you two like boyfriend and girlfriend?"

"At first, kind of. But no. Not now. I don't stay with girls very long. Not that way, anyway. I'm not ready for a real relationship."

Lucy couldn't tell whether she heard some disappointment or longing lurking in his words.

A siren erupted nearby. Its insistent wail filled the trailer like a sour stench. Lucy and Jason both waited to discover whether the sound would approach them or recede into the distance.

It faded.

"Told you. They won't find you here."

"Is she part of what's going to happen tomorrow?"

"You mean Marin?"

Lucy nodded.

"She was going to be. Now she's in the hospital, so I guess not. The whole thing was planned so that we would operate independently. Just in case one of us was caught. Either one of us can make our half of the plan work on our own."

Lucy watched Ramp stand and move to the trailer's window. The thick layer of dust on the glass turned the night sky behind him pasty and sick.

"Were you trying to hurt Marin today? Or was that an accident?"

"You know, I'm not really sure. At the moment I touched the button, I wasn't sure whose side she was on. Mine or her mother's."

"Wow," Lucy said. "You're not even sure whether you were trying to hurt her. What a thing to say."

"Yeah."

Lucy pressed. "The bomb at the district attorney's house in Boulder? That was one of yours?"

"Yes. It was. That was going to be part of Marin's route."

"Route?"

"Tomorrow, we each have a route. There will be a series of bombs. The bombs in Boulder are designed differently from the ones in Denver so that they can't be tied together. And I have something special planned at the end, like a finale at a fireworks show."

"Who's going to die tomorrow?"

The silence that followed her question allowed the hum of I-25 to infiltrate the trailer. An eighteen-wheeler was having trouble with a low gear. The whine of air brakes sounded.

"A lot of people."

"You don't want to tell me who?"

"People who've had a hand in the bullshit. That's all I'll say."

"Regarding your mother? That bullshit?"

"Not just that. Remember, I'm talking about the whole system. I want people to talk about every last place where the system is broken. The problem with Columbine, even with McVeigh in Oklahoma City, was that…"

Ramp's words faded into the darkness as he suddenly refocused his attention out the trailer's window.

"Was what, Jason? What was the problem?"

"Shhh." He waved an open hand from his shoulder to near his waist. "Shhh. Don't speak."

She watched the reflexive movement as his fingers curled toward the switch that was taped to his wrist.

Lucy whispered, "Is there someone here?"

Calmly, he said, "I said shut up. I meant it."

Lucy considered the opportunity that was being presented to her. She wasn't gagged. She could scream and maybe get the attention of whomever Ramp was tracking outside the trailer. At this hour, she assumed it would either be a security patrol or a trespasser.

She forced her heart to still so she could hope to hear whatever it was that was going on outside. She heard nothing. No tires on gravel. No voices. No music from a car radio.

Ramp straightened at the window and moved his fingertips away from the switch on his wrist.

Her moment was gone. She felt a tear form in the corner of one eye. "You were telling me what the problem was with McVeigh and with Columbine. What was the problem?"

"Not just one. A few. The main one was their rage. But also the randomness of what they did. And the fact that they targeted innocent people. Those things changed the debate. If the bully steals your lunch and you respond by blowing up the whole damn cafeteria, nobody ends up paying attention to what the bully did to you. They focus on your rage, and on the innocent victims you killed by how you retaliated. That was the problem with Columbine. What they did-killing so many innocent people-changed the debate forever, and their message was diluted to the point that nobody really paid any attention to their motives. Not in the end, anyway. I won't allow that to happen tomorrow."

"You want the debate?"

"I want the debate."

"But you already said that there will be unintended victims from what you're planning."

"Yes, but they're not targets. That's the difference. They will prove one of my points, however."

"I don't understand."

"My mother was the unintended victim of the justice system's decision to free a murderer and put him back on the street. My plan will duplicate that. There's some irony there, I think. The ones who are responsible will suffer losses, and so will some innocent people. The justice system didn't target my mother. But they allowed her to be killed. They were callous to her safety."

"And you'll do the same tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"What gives you the right?"

He laughed, a tight sound that seemed to catch in his throat. "Revolution always begins with an act of anarchy. By definition, no one has the right to be an anarchist. I'm hoping to start a little revolution. So by definition, I'm assuming the right to be an anarchist."

"You can call it anarchy but it sounds like revenge to me. Vengeance. I don't see how what you're doing is any different. You'll be just another pissed-off kid with blood on his hands. You don't have to do this."

"I don't want the blood. I want the dialogue. That's what's different. The blood will get everyone's attention."

She implored him, "Don't do it."

"It's too late."

Lucy felt herself sinking into the sofa. The cogency of Ramp's argument was exhausting her. She wanted to ask him to use his energy differently. To beg him to find another way. But she knew he wasn't remotely interested. Her desperation caused her to play a card she wasn't sure she should play.