Surfacing,

Part Three

By Lauren

A few moments later, Drew regained her composure and realized that Ray was staring at her with frightened eyes. “Drew?” he asked tentatively.

“You…you killed Danny’s father?” she asked in disbelief.

Ray’s eyes took on a faraway look, then he closed them briefly and shook his head. “Yes,” he replied. “Yeah, I did.”

“And no one knows?” Drew asked.

Ray looked up at her with vulnerable eyes. “No.”

Part of her felt like bolting from the car and running all the way back to the Santos house. Another part of her was relieved. So that’s how he understands what I’m going through, Drew realized. Somehow that was almost comforting.

Ray started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, driving around a block and onto an exit ramp to get on the interstate. 

“Why did you do it?” she asked, her voice almost inaudible.

“It was a long time ago…” he began. “I was only fifteen. Danny’s father and my father went out on a hit at the home of a rival family, and I stowed away in the car. I already knew about the business, and I wasn’t afraid of it, or what it could do to me.” 

He stopped and swallowed, and Drew was afraid to say anything. Moments later she realized that she was holding her breath. 

“I had always been afraid of my uncle, though—Danny’s father. He was louder than my father, and bigger, and liked to control situations. Danny loved him a lot, and his father definitely loved him back, but Danny didn’t see that his father wasn’t a wonderful guy. His dad was a lot like Mick.”

Drew shivered, and it wasn’t lost on Ray. “I assume you knew Mick.”

saying goodbye to my mother and Aunt Carmen. We got to the house, and the hit was already in progress. I don’t even remember how I got into the house, but I did, and I had my gun with me.”

This is the Mafia, Drew thought. None of us ever actually understood it until now. It was like a game to me, an exciting game. But it’s not a game. Kids have guns. People die. Children lose their parents. This is real.

Her reverie was broken when she realized that Ray was still speaking to her. 

“…so I walked into the room, and Danny’s father was standing there with my father and three other men. One of the men raised a gun and pointed it at my dad. I freaked out, and pulled out my own gun, and shot it toward that man. Unfortunately, I never have been the best shot. My uncle shot the man, I shot my uncle, my dad shot one of the other men, and the last shot him. I killed the last after he shot my father.” 

“My God,” Drew whispered, her eyes full of sympathy. 

“Apparently my mother and Aunt Carmen had realized that I was gone by that time, and had driven out to the house. About five minutes later, they rushed through the door, into all the blood and the death that was in that horrible room. I was still standing there, the gun shoved in my pocket. I was just frozen, standing there, looking at the bodies on the floor, tears running down my face. Carmen started screaming, and ran over to my uncle. He died in her arms. And it was my fault.” The last

words he spat, as if they left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Those other men would have shot him anyway, Ray,” Drew pointed out.

“Maybe. Maybe not. He was a ruthless man, he might have shot them first.”

“There’s no way to know. And besides, you were trying to save him.” 

“But I didn’t.”

“This happened years ago, Ray,” she began. “You need to stop beating yourself up over this.”

“I’m not beating myself up over this. I confessed this to God a long time ago,” Ray said. “I’ve reconciled myself to this. I just haven’t told anyone.”

“So it ate away at you until you became a priest.”

Ray smirked, his eyes unmoving from the road. “You don’t think I became a priest because of my undying devotion to God and the church?”

“Honestly? No. I mean, that might have been part of it, but I don’t think that was your major motivation.”

“And why do you think that?”

“I don’t know. I just have a feeling that you became a priest to get out of the Santos way of life.”

Ray clenched his jaw, his grip on the wheel tightening. “You should have been a psychologist, Drew, as much as you enjoy analyzing people.”

Drew smirked. “I’m right, then.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Ray shook his head. “So now you know.”

“Yeah,” Drew said softly. “I know. And you know, I don’t think any less of you.”

“Really,” Ray said dryly.

“Really, I don’t,” she replied.

Sighing, Ray said, “And you don’t think any less of me that I ran away from home that night, took the car, and drove to the same place we stayed last night. I pawned the gun at the same shop that I went to last night. It’s a really seedy place, Drew, and I didn’t want you to have to go in there.”

“You know, I’m going to say something to you that I don’t say to many people,” she said with a smirk.

Ray rolled his eyes. “I’m almost afraid to ask.” 

“Don’t be,” she replied.

Laughing, Ray said, “Okay, so tell me.”

“I’m sorry,” she said dramatically.

Ray laughed again. “No, I don’t imagine that you do say that to most people. But what are you sorry for? I was the one who was being a jerk last night.”

“And I was being a spoiled little baby like I always am. Honestly, sometimes I look back at things I’ve said and done and I want to kick myself.”

“You know, Drew, if I didn’t know you better I’d say this was a confession.”

“Well, you must know me pretty well,” she teased.

A sign zoomed past the passenger side window of the car. “Indiana!” she said triumphantly. “We’re in Indiana!”

Ray laughed. “That we are,” he agreed. “We were still in Illinois last night.”

“Well, I figured we hadn’t gone too far when you told me that you had driven there to pawn a gun off when you were only fifteen.”

“I was almost sixteen,” he amended. “I had my blue slip.”

“Whatever,” Drew said. “I was going crazy not knowing where I was.”

“I could tell,” he laughed. “And it was pretty funny.”

Drew shook her head, biting her lip to keep from smiling. “And I’m the infuriating one?”

***

They drove on for hours, stopping for lunch at a fast-food restaurant. Drew was content as Ray drove, napping sometimes, changing the radio station when the signal of the one they were listening to became weak. At around three o’clock, Drew woke up and realized that Ray was staring at the radio, listening intently. 

“What’s going on?” she asked quietly, stretching like a cat.

“Shh,” he ordered. The radio was tuned to a news station, and a man with a deep voice was reading news bulletins.

“And in other news, an ambush in central Illinois, which is suspected to have been Mafia-related, has left three people dead and several injured.”

Oh, God.

“Ray,” she began hesitantly, but he put a finger to his lips.

“Quiet,” he hissed, changing lanes and allowing a semi-truck to pass the car.

“The details on the attack are sketchy at this hour, but it is known that the attack was at the home of Mrs. Carmen Santos, in Springfield, Illinois. Two of the injured are her son, Daniel Santos, and Marah Lewis, daughter of Joshua Lewis, the CEO of Lewis Oil. We will bring you more on this unfortunate situation as information becomes available.”

“Oh, no, not Danny and Marah,” Drew whispered. Ray’s jaw clenched.

“This is serious, Drew,” he murmured.

“I wonder what happened to everyone else?” Drew questioned quietly.

“We can’t think about that now,” he rationalized. “We have to concentrate on staying hidden until this blows over.”

“Ray, if I killed someone, it’s not going to blow over,” she pointed out.

He gripped the wheel even tighter, so tight that his knuckles faded from tan to white.

“Maybe you didn’t kill him,” he offered.

Drew shook her head. “Even if he wasn’t dead when we left, he probably bled to death later.”

“You have to stop thinking about this, Drew, worrying about it is not going to make things any better.”

“I can’t forget it.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

“So what else am I supposed to think about? And thinking about oceans and chocolate chip cookies does nothing for me.” 

He laughed. “I figured. What about Max? You could think about him.”

She shook her head. “That just makes me miss him and Selena.”

“What about Millennium?”

“That’s even more depressing than the whole ‘situation’. You have no idea how far behind I am in the books.”

Ray laughed again. “You’re hopeless.”

“Yeah, well, you know.”

He sighed. “Do you want to stop and get something to eat?”

“Honestly, I’m not very hungry.” Her stomach twisted at the thought of food.

“Well, I am. I guess we could go through a drive-up window somewhere.”

“That’s fine. But hey, why don’t you let me drive for a while?”

Ray wrinkled his nose. “Are you sure that you want to?”

“I do know how to drive, Ray,” she pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest again. “Don’t you trust me?”

He looked over at her with his same probing stare. “Yes, I think I do.”

She mentally sighed with relief. “Well, that’s good. So it’s settled; pull over and switch me spots, and we’ll get you something to eat.”

He nodded, pulling the little red car onto the gravelly shoulder of the interstate. They both got out and ran around to the other side of the car. “This is just like Chinese Fire Drill,” she called out gleefully.

Ray’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Chinese Fire Drill?”

“What? You don’t know what Chinese Fire Drill is?” she asked in disbelief.

He shook his head. “I think I’ve heard the name before…”

“And I’m the hopeless one? I can’t believe you never played Chinese Fire Drill before! Every kid has played Chinese Fire Drill.”

“I wasn’t exactly your normal kid,” he conceded, shifting uncomfortably in the passenger seat.

“Yeah, I guess you weren’t,” she said, pulling out onto the road after looking behind her. Her smile faded. “But then again, I wasn’t either, really.”

“Well, you were adopted into a really rich family, if you count that as abnormal,” he said with mock sarcasm.

“I was thinking more along the lines of being taken away from my natural mother and forced into the system,” she replied, her eyes steady on the road. Selena must be worried sick, and Max, too. God, I wish I could tell them where I am!

“There,” Ray said, pointing at a highway sign advertising a burger joint only half a mile down the way. “Exit twelve.”

Drew nodded, turning her blinker on and gently pulling the car onto the exit ramp. “Greasy, fat-covered cheeseburgers, coming up.”

Ray laughed, pulling his wallet from his pants pocket. “While we’re here, we can go by the mall and get some other clothes,” he suggested.

“How much money do you have with you?” she questioned.

He shrugged. “Enough.”

Drew sighed. Well, I cracked the Santos shell for a few hours, at least. 

She realized that he hadn’t finished talking. “Sorry?” she asked.

“I said, we can go by an ATM machine while we’re here to get some more.”

“My card is in my purse,” she objected. “And I’m not going to let you pay for this entire trip.”

“Do you know your PIN number?” he asked.

“It’s my social security number,” she revealed.

“And I’m guessing that you don’t know that,” he presumed.

She smiled sheepishly. “Not off hand. Sorry. Besides, can’t they trace ATM transactions?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Well, isn’t that dangerous, then?”

“Possibly. But we won’t be here long anyway.”

***

Two hours later, their stomachs were full (well, Ray’s, anyway), the trunk was heavy with bags of new clothes, and Drew was sleeping in the passenger’s seat again. Ray had insisted on driving again, even though his eyelids were beginning to droop. 

The two-lane highway was beginning to look smaller and smaller as he coaxed his brain to stay alert until they found somewhere decent to stay for the night. But soon his senses won him over, and his eyes fluttered closed.

***

Drew awoke suddenly to the sound of a blaring horn. Metal scraped against metal. She heard herself scream, sounding hollow, and then her world turned black.

Part 4

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