Chapter 1

Stephen looked up from the list he had been working on for several hours. He didn’t know exactly how he had let it slip through his grasp as he had, but he was here now. The sweat on his brow beaded as he realized what the list meant, and he could feel a tightness in his chest as his anxiety began to skyrocket.

            Looking across the table at his wife, who had been working on a similar list, he gasped out, “Shelly, I think we’re screwed.”

            “Is it that bad?” She looked up quickly from her list, setting the pen she had used down next to it.

            “It is. Payday wasn’t enough this week, and for me to get back and forth to work, we need to come up with another $60 for a tank full.”

            “We can take it from the grocery bill. We should have -” Shelly started, but Stephen cut her off.

            “No. You and Jason haven’t had a good meal in months. I may be able to get by with a little less gas, but it’ll be close.”

            Shelly stood up and scooted her chair beside her husband, putting an arm around him and laying her head on his shoulder.

            “We’ll make it. We always do. Did you check on that job that Carter sent you?” The words flowed naturally from her as she reassured Stephen. She was a natural at bedside manner, clearly empathetic and sincere.

            Stephen tilted his head to the side and placed it gently on hers, replying, “Yeah, it’s an overnight security guard gig at the old warehouse in Platteville. You know the one.” He gestured with his hand in the air.

            Wrapping her hands around his left arm, Shelly turned and looked at him. “I think you should take that. If only for a few months until we get out from under the credit card debt. You can quit once we get the cards paid off, and we’ll be okay.”

            Stephen had been considering taking the job. It didn’t pay much, but it was just sitting in a guard shack from midnight to 10 AM, four nights a week. He could watch YouTube on his phone and play mobile games - the kind he didn’t have to pay to win.

            “I should…” He cautiously answered, not wanting to commit. He knew if he committed to applying and getting the position, Shelly would drive him as a cowboy drives a steer. Along with the excellent bedside manner, Shelly had a way of motivating him to be his best, whether naturally or purely by the nature of her love for him.

            He weighed his options. Pros, cons - risk, reward - How long would it take to pay off the credit cards?

            “How much do we owe now?” He asked Shelly. Lifting her head from his arm, she slid the sheet she had been working on from in front of her to him. His eyes widened in disbelief. “$22,450?” He exclaimed.

            “The insurance didn’t cover all of Jason’s cancer meds this month,” Shelly explained, almost in a whisper.

            Stephen sat looking at the figures in shocked disbelief. He had been assured that his insurance from his primary job as a grocery store manager was sufficient to pay for the medicine - if not a little lacking. But it would be enough, and he would only have to pay a small co-pay to get the treatment - not the entire amount, as Shelly had said.

            “I’m going to call the insurance company and see if we can’t get reimbursed for -” It was Shelly’s turn to cut him off this time.

            “I already did, baby.” Refusing to look at him, she placed her face back on his shoulder. “They said we had exceeded the allotment for the medicine. From here till next year, it’s on us.”

            Stephen felt the space around him go black. His vision tunneled, and he began to feel lightheaded. At first, his thoughts fell on the question, “How can we afford to pay for the medicine and treatment?” And as the anxiety, fear, and dread sank to the pit of his stomach, the horrible realization of what this meant struck for the first time, and he could feel the tears welling in his eyes.

            “Jason doesn’t have until next year. It’s barely August… if he doesn’t get this treatment, he dies.” His voice was a whisper as the tears fell to the paper below.

            “I know…” Shelly replied in her own whisper as she squeezed his arm and buried her face deeper.

            She didn’t show it, but Shelly was also crying. Their first and only child had been struck by lymphoma at the early age of twelve. She had taken him to the ER after he had fallen during football practice and found that “his numbers were way off.” With every new sentence the doctor uttered, possibilities flashed in Shelly and Stephen’s minds. Maybe this, maybe that, perhaps some weird illness that would go away.

            But then the big C-word entered the mix, and everything changed. Their baby had cancer.

            Stephen lightly pushed the list he had been looking at away from him and wrapped his arm around Shelly. “I’ll call the agency and take that position. We may be able to keep up with the cost of the meds if we put it on credit…” He said, squeezing his wife.

            Through tears, Shelly quickly added, “I know I can’t get more shifts at the restaurant, but maybe I can get something at the gas station?”

            “No,” Stephen answered quietly. “Jason needs you here with him during the nights. The guard position pays around $15 an hour. That’s an extra $450 or so a week after taxes. If we only put that towards the credit card, we should be able to keep up, right?”

            “Even putting all that on the credit cards, that’s going to take us years to pay off… I’ll ask the doctor if we can get some help for the meds.” Shelly sat up and straightened her T-shirt. “In the meantime, we need to figure out what we’re going to do to get you to and from work.”

            Stephen sat quietly as Shelly spoke. He knew she was right; there was hardly ever a time when she wasn’t. He needed this job and a way to make the money they had left stretch.

            “Babe, call Carter,” he heard her say finally. He startled out of his stupor and moved with purpose. It was nine am, and he knew Carter would be in the office drinking his coffee. He reached for his cell phone, found the contact, and dialed.

            “Empire Staffing Services: We fill your holes. This is Carter speaking. How may I help you?” Stephen groaned.

            “Carter, you need to find a better catch line. That is so lewd that no companies are going to want to fill their positions with you.” Stephen said flatly.

            “Hey, it’s worked so far. You calling about the security guard position, bud?”

            “Yeah, I need to get something else coming in.”

            Carter had been Stephen and Shelly’s close friend since high school. Knowing that Jason had lymphoma, he had kept an eye out for incoming staffing contracts for overnight positions, as Stephen already had a full-time workload during the day.

            “The security guard position is four nights a week: Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday,” he explained. “I can place you this week so that you can start tomorrow. I already have most of your info, so we don’t need much paperwork to make it legal besides signatures. No one is going to come and check on you during the night. No one is in the warehouse; it’s just a building on an empty lot, and we’re trying to keep people out of it. Any questions?”

            “I’ll come up today to sign the stuff. Is there a uniform or anything to wear, or do I need anything specific? Do I get to carry a gun just in case?”

            “No weapons. You’re not allowed to carry. You have a badge and four shirts provided. That’s about it. It’s pretty simple.”

            Stephen gathered himself and nodded. “Okay. I appreciate this, Carter. Thank you again.”

            “Hey, anything I can do to help you guys? I know how much crap you’re going through. I’m sorry it’s not more.”

            The line went dead, and Stephen ended the call. It would be a few more hours before he had to show up at the grocery store for his shift, so he had time to get dressed and meet Carter to sign the paperwork before going to work.

            He and Shelly wiped away the morning and pretended it didn’t happen when Jason got up. His bald head glistened with the sweat of sleep still gripping his eyes. Shelly and Stephen looked at one another and gently kissed Jason’s head as he ate breakfast.

* * *

Stephen entered the squat one-story office building right off 5th Street and signed in on the register at the window. As he slowly walked over to the row of waiting empty chairs, Carter quickly called for him to come back.

            “Hey bud, here’s your things and I just need you to sign here and here,” he spoke quickly, pointing to several locations on a sheet of paper. He set the shirts neatly folded on the edge of his desk, with an oversized, weighty golden badge on top next to two rust-covered keys.

            Stephen signed the boxes and gathered his uniform. As he turned to go, Carter stopped him.

            “I’m not allowed to tell you this, Steve. So, if anyone asks, I am going to deny it. But take your pistol or something with you tomorrow night.” Carter pointed at the TV in the corner of his office. A news broadcast with video playing of riots was on, and the newscaster was saying something about it. “It’s getting crazy out there. They said these riots are getting serious. There were bodies just littering the streets last night over in Le Mars, and apparently, people just bled them out in the street.”

            “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” Stephen didn’t pay too much attention to the news. There were too many things to keep up with in his already stressful life. He didn’t understand how someone as busy as Carter could take the time to watch it. It seemed like it was a waste of his time, to be honest.

            “I’m serious, buddy. Swear to me you will take your pistol. There have been dozens of murders in the span of a few nights, and it’s happening all over the world. The whole place is going to hell in a handbasket. I don’t want Shelly and Jason to be without you. They wouldn’t survive without you.” Stephen looked at Carter. Carter’s graying goatee quivered slightly as he sat, expecting Stephen’s answer.

            “Fine.” Stephen relented. He didn’t like the idea that he wasn’t allowed to take it and was already being pressured to, but he trusted Carter and trusted the fact that he wouldn’t steer him wrong if he could help it.

            Carter sat back in his chair, looking as if he were about to stand before Stephen answered. Visibly sighing after Stephen’s answer, Carter nodded his head. “Call me Saturday morning and let me know how it went, please.”

            Stephen nodded back curtly. “You got it, man.” Stephen patted the door jamb on his way out of Carter’s office as Carter increased the volume of the news broadcast.

            “Riots enter the sixth day as dozens more are murdered in the streets. Police are warning locals to remain inside and lock their doors as they have called in all active duty officers to quell the protests and stop the murders. So far, there are no suspects.”

* * *

Pinning the badge to his left breast pocket, Stephen realized he wasn’t suited for police uniforms. The uniform looked too bulky for his small frame, as if it were meant to hold a bulletproof vest underneath. Trying to straighten the shirt, Shelly came into the bedroom.

            “Look at my hot officer man!” She whistled and smacked Stephen’s rear end.

            He half-smirked as he complained, “It’s like four sizes too big for me. It looks like a raincoat.” He held his arms up and pointed out the fabric extending from about half his bicep back to the chest.

            “It’s fine,” She reassured him. “It’s loose and comfortable, so it’s easier to sleep in. You don’t expect anything to happen tonight, do you? It’s an empty warehouse on the outskirts of town.”

            “Carter made me swear to take my nine,” Stephen replied flatly. “I don’t even know where I’m going to carry it. I haven’t done anything with it since buying it. I’ve never even shot the damn thing.”

            Shelly walked to the bedside table, pulled the black case from the drawer, and set it on the bed. She flipped open the latches on both sides and opened it to reveal the sleek black firearm and holster.

            She pulled the firearm and holster from the container and handed both to Stephen. “Well, looks like you’re taking it then.”

            Stephen sighed and quickly fed his belt through the holster loops, hanging the firearm at his side as Shelly began pushing rounds into the magazines still in the case. It wasn’t natural enough, he thought. It felt wrong. Yet, he looked at Shelly with her dark blue eyes and dark hair and realized what it was for. It was to make sure he came home.

            “Carter seemed worried about the riots and murders. I can see why. The riots are getting closer, and what better place for a bunch of serial killers to hide than an abandoned warehouse?” Stephen kept tugging at his belt to make the holster more comfortable. Finally, getting annoyed at the whole thing, he pulled it off the belt and tossed it back onto the bed. “I’ll just take it with me.”

            Shelly quietly finished loading the two magazines with rounds, placing one in the case and the other in the pistol’s well. Quickly, she replaced the pistol in the holster and latched it.

            “I’m sure you’ll be fine tonight,” she said quietly. “It’ll be quiet, and you’ll be able to nap some.” Stephen kept fussing over his uniform as Shelly came up and turned him around to face her. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around him as he returned her embrace.

            “I’ll be safe,” he said slowly, squeezing her small frame.

            “You better be.”

* * *

The roads around Platteville at midnight were silent and dark. Police had already stopped him several times, asking where he was going this late at night, then let him go quickly after he showed the badge and paperwork stating where he was going, without a word.

            The warehouse sat in a run-down part of town, weeds growing from cracks in the pavement. The road looked as if it had once been used heavily but now sat as vacant as the warehouse. With the crumbling pavement under the wheels, he directed his beat-up compact car down the deserted road surrounded by dark woods on both sides. The only light came from the lot the warehouse sat on, at the end of the long drive.

            As he approached, he noticed the lack of a guard rotation. He was not relieving anyone, which was strange, he thought. If he’s beginning at midnight on a Friday, wouldn’t there already be the possibility of someone being here? He made a mental note to double-check the area once he got in.

            The warehouse was a large rectangular concrete structure surrounded by crumbling pavement. A large rusty metal fence with barbed wire on top surrounded the property, with a single point of entry guarded by a small shack. Weeds grew from the top of the guard shack, spilling out of clogged gutters. Stephen groaned audibly at the sight, hoping the interior was not as bad as he expected it to be. He didn’t want to have to sit in his car for his shift.

            Pulling up to the shack, he quickly shifted to park, leaving the headlights on and shining into the structure. After unlocking the door and doing a quick look over, he found the structure wasn’t in good working order, much to his chagrin, and looked for a good spot to park so he could see what he needed to see.

            Deciding to back it against the chain-link gate, Stephen shifted into park and turned off the engine, leaving the accessory battery on to keep the radio playing.

            Sighing again, he opened the door and stepped out with the broken pieces of concrete crunching under his boots. Clicking on the small flashlight he had brought with him, he began doing a round of the property, checking the fence line, doors, warehouse, and any other place he could think of to make sure there were no intruders.

            Finding it all secured and strangely not vandalized, Stephen closed the gate and sat in his car, settling in for the rest of his shift.