JULY 2017 | SCENE 91 beachreads “Sorry.” Adam’s heart was thumping so hard he almost expected his badge to rattle. “The sun—you know, I thought you’d stashed a knife.” They looked at each other for a moment. “If you’d blasted me, what would you have done?” Raul asked. “Called an ambulance,” Adam said. “Then what? Say I tried to escape?” “Say I made a mistake.” You think Hyde would cover you? You’d do better just getting away with it,” Raul said. “Cops got drop guns. ‘Self-defense, boss.’ You’d make a lousy cop.” “I would’ve made a great fireman,” Adam said. He studied Raul’s mural. One of the infantrymen was jogging away from a fiery orange explosion with a buddy slung over his shoulder. “Let’s go,” Adam said. “One sec,” Raul said. He pointed to the brush and indicated he was going to pick it up. He dipped it into the gray paint and splashed a few hairs into the Sheriff ’s nostrils. Then, in lovely, fluid script, he signed his name below a yellow ribbon: Raul Berillo Cantino. “One day when you’re famous, that’ll be worth a million bucks,” Adam said. “Sure,” Raul said. “But thanks anyway.” He clasped his hands, splattered yellow and gray, behind his back, waiting for the manacles. “This is your last chance to let me escape,” Raul said. “You said you always wanted to rescue someone from a burning building.” Adam paused. How much power he had. He could take a life. Just as easily he could give it back. But then he had to live with himself afterwards. He had to go home and give Jenny a good reason. Raul’s boss might have stolen his ideas or even his girlfriend, but Raul could’ve handled it differently. He could’ve walked. He could’ve joined the Army. “I got a better idea,” Adam said, ratcheting the cuffs closed. “Draw a picture of Superman and send it to your kid.” They ambled back to the jail in silence. The chirr met them at the rear entrance. Adam imagined 1800 steel blades being drawn across whetstones. The whole building was vibrating like an overheated fridge. As usual when bringing in a prisoner, Adam took Raul up to Four, strip-searched him in the room behind the control booth, then signed him over to Sydney Beaumont. “You must be ready to rejoin the living,” Big Mike said, brushing the crumbs off the seat beside him. “I am,” Adam said. But instead of plunking down in his usual chair, he walked into the hall and caught the elevator down to the ground floor. In the lobby, he paused to unpin the star from his breast. “Give this to the Sheriff for me, would you?” he murmured to Linda, the receptionist. She was so engrossed in her phone call that she didn’t even look up. He left the badge on the counter. Somebody would figure it out eventually. Adam stopped on the threshold to listen. In the distance, he heard the muted roar of traffic. Several blocks away, a chainlink fence quivered like a tambourine as a stray ball struck the mesh. On the grass between the tower and the sidewalk, a hornet hunkered down in a gum wrapper, then buzzed off toward some weeds growing up through the cracks in the sidewalk. Whistling, Adam walked down the steps and out into the wide, green world. How much power he had. He could take a life. Just as easily he could give it back.
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