sky. Matt put his head down and kept walking on the street toward the woods. Following his brother’s footprints. His eye began to itch and twitch the closer he got.
Matt gripped the knife tightly as he entered the Mission Street Woods. He followed the trail down the footpath. Past the billy goat bridge and the creek, which wasn’t frozen anymore for some reason. He walked into the clearing. He could feel the deer looking at him through the spaces in the evergreens, their breath rising like steam from a manhole. Matt walked through the coal mine. All the way to the other side. He passed the abandoned refrigerator, which felt warm like a campfire. He finally came to the bulldozers and Collins Construction vehicles parked on the far side of the woods.
That’s where he saw Mike.
His brother was crouched down in the mud with his bare feet and a knife. Matt watched as his brother slashed the rear tire of a bulldozer. Then, he moved to the front tire and unscrewed the cap. He slowly let the air out of the front tire with the knife. Matt silently approached his brother, who was turned away from him.
“Mike,” Matt whispered.
Mike took the knife out of the tire.
“Mike, what are you doing?”
Mike didn’t answer. For a long moment.
“It’s Christmas Eve,” Mike finally said. “The bulldozers will reach the tree house today.”
“So?”
“If Mr. Collins tears down the tree house, Christopher will never be able to get out. So, we have to save him.”
“Who told you that?”
“You did.”
Matt turned his brother around and realized that Mike’s eyes were closed. He was sleepwalking.
Matt gently took the knife out of his hand.
“Matt, we have to finish,” Mike protested in his sleep.
“Don’t worry. Lie down on my coat. I’ll finish,” Matt said.
Mike did as he was told. He laid his head down on Matt’s coat and began to snore. Matt grabbed the shoes and covered his brother’s freezing feet. Then, he took both knives to the Collins Construction Company fleet, and within minutes, the vehicles were rendered useless. On any other night, they probably would have been caught.
Luckily, the security guard was out with that terrible flu.
Chapter 78
Motherfuckers!”
Mrs. Collins watched her husband slam his cell phone down on the cafeteria table. Her mother was still unconscious upstairs in her hospital room, and somehow, his business had crept back into their lives. Even on Christmas Eve.
Mrs. Collins maintained a concerned, dutiful look on her face as she pretended to listen to her husband rant about how some “motherfuckers” destroyed the tires on his trucks and bulldozers. She vaguely heard him say that he should have broken ground on this “fucking Mission Street Woods project” a month ago, but someone was out to get him. He couldn’t afford all the delays. They were leveraged to the breaking point. The loans were coming due. She better stop spending so much God damn money.
Blah blah blah blah blah.
How many times did he start this fight? Five times a month? Ten during the audit? She could have played a tape recorder and saved herself the time. “Kathleen, who do you think pays for all this because it’s not your God damn charity work!” “But Brad, I turned Shady Pines from a tax shelter into a thriving business.” “A thriving business?! That old folks home couldn’t keep you in shoes!” When did the make-up sex stop? How can he stand the sound of his own voice all day? God, is he still talking? He is. He’s still talking.
Mrs. Collins just nodded and scratched the skin underneath her diamond necklace. That itch just wouldn’t go away. Mrs. Collins blamed the itch on being stuck in this hospital waiting for her mother to wake up. She was sweaty and sticky and could do nothing with her hair in that horrible hospital bathroom even if it was private. And she didn’t know how much longer she could pretend that she didn’t hate this man.
“Are you even listening to me?!” he barked.
“Of course, Brad. It’s awful. Go on,” she said.
As her husband continued to rant, Mrs. Collins looked over his shoulder and saw a room packed with people on gurneys. They had started moving the sick into the cafeteria like the dying soldiers in Gone with the Wind. She thought about her mother basking in comfort in the private room upstairs that could easily fit two more beds. She wondered why the poor people didn’t get off those gurneys and just