Caged Eagles (5 page)

“Do you want to dance; it's just not right for Fred and Ginger to be standing on the sidelines.”

“I thought you would never ask, Mr. Astaire.” She placed her hand in his.

“Then let's make a scene, Ms. Rogers.”

Trevor whirled her out onto the polished wooden floor. He really meant it when he said they were about to cause a scene. The musicians saw the couple and quickly began to improvise to accommodate the pair. The air around them quickly became a breeze flowing past; with any slight pause the atmosphere became stifling. People, costumes, decorations were only a blur. Breathing was easy, too easy, until the dance was over and Trevor's lungs grew tight.

“Trevor … I never knew … you could dance … like that.” Sarah said in between breaths.

“My mom made my sister and me take lessons.” Trevor blurted out before he needed more air.

“I think that is the most fun I've had in a long time.”

Sarah's breathing had become normal again. Trevor felt the burn of his own lungs starting to subside. Neither of them had noticed, until now, the entire building had erupted into applause at their performance. Sarah's face was flushed from dancing, but he could tell the additional color to her cheeks was from the attention. She quickly dragged him toward the punch bowl. A man with a sly appearance stopped them. The woman next to him contained the same facial characteristics as Sarah; yet she had strawberry-blonde hair. The original color was probably forgotten years before.

“Young man, if you treat our Tobian off the dance floor as you do on, I will have nothing to worry about. I'm Mike Morrison and this is my wife Karen Vanderbrush.” He extended his hand for Trevor to shake.

“Mom, Dad, you didn't say you would be here?” Sarah sounded surprised.

Her father looked at Trevor as he responded. “Garrison invited us, and we're glad we came, obviously.”

“Tobian, you never said you started dating anyone.” Her mother sounded too enthusiastic.

“I don't have to announce to the world who I'm dating, it's my life.” Sarah crossed her arms. Trevor had never heard her speak like this and realized there was more behind that statement. He thought her parents probably tried to control her a lot.

“Toby!” Her mother tried to push her surgically plump lips out, in order to sulk.

“Tobian, there is no need to be so short with your mother.” Mike turned back to Trevor, “So what is your name, young man, and what do you do?”

“Dad!”

“I'm Trevor Wells, sir, and I work at Lucky Number 8.”

“Lucky Number 8, that's
just
a bar.”

“Darling, how did you two meet?” Her mother jumped back into the conversation.

“We met at the movies. I hate to be rude but we need to get going. I'll talk to you both later.” Sarah grabbed Trevor by the arm and pulled him up the stairs, down a hallway, to an outside balcony. He didn't care if they weren't suppose to be there. Sarah need to escape.

“I'm so sorry about them. I hate how they treated you.”

“Don't worry about it.” Trevor took his coat off and put it around her shoulders. “It was strange hearing you being called Tobian so often though.”

She pulled the coat tighter around her shoulders. “Yeah, my parents are … dramatic.”

“I did notice your mom has a different last name than your father. What is that about?”

“My mom didn't take my dad's name when they married, Vanderbrush is her maiden name. She says she didn't want to be forced to accept a name because of marriage. She is a very strong feminist.”

“Then why isn't your last name Vanderbrush?”

“I don't really know, I guess it's just what they decided. I'm just really happy my name wasn't Tobian Vanderbrush. Do you realize what kind of nightmare I would be living if it was?!” Sarah turned to look at Trevor. He was trying not to snicker; she smacked him in the stomach as he burst out laughing.

“Anyway when I get married I plan on taking his last name. I'm just old-fashioned that way.”

“Mmm … Tobian Guggenheimer.”

Sarah began to laugh and shook her head no. The blonde curls danced around her face.

“Your parents weren't bad.” Trevor put his arms around her.

“Yes, but they said 'That's
just
a bar,' when talking about your job. That bugged me.”

“If it doesn't bother me it shouldn't bother you.” He kissed her ear. They watched the sky above them. The stars were out burning like fireflies. Sarah leaned back against him.

“Ah, cute, a pair of lovebirds,” Brandi's voice broke the peaceful moment. Sarah turned around to see who had found them.

“Hi, I'm Brandi Lewis.” She offered her hand to Sarah, but Trevor stepped in between the women in order to stop any interaction between them.

“Telling you to get out of my face never works, does it?” Trevor's anger grew with each word. Brandi looked confused. “You're dressed for work, I see, so you had better get down to your corner on Fifth and Main.” The cutting remark surprised not only Sarah, but also Brandi. Trevor felt better.

“That was a little harsh, especially when your friend is here.”

Trevor could see by the frown on her face that she couldn't ignore the insult. Trevor crossed his arms. “Brandi, what do you want?”

“Nothing.”

“You always want something you lying little ….”

“Trevor.” Sarah touched his shoulder, trying to subdue some of the volcanic anger inside him.

“I see that no matter how nice I try to be, you're still going to be the same old Trevor we all know and love.” She leaned against the door frame.

“There you go lying again. You wouldn't know love if it hit you right in the nose.”

“I loved you, Trevor, and you loved me.” Brandi had now turned her attention to Sarah. “We were hot back in our day. I loved how sexy he looked when he woke up each morning.”

“Brandi.” Trevor's voice was full of warning.

“Oh, oops, I guess by the warning I just got that you wouldn't know Trevor's bedtime habits.” Brandi covered her mouth with one hand, pretending she had accidentally revealed a secret. She then went in for the kill. “Listen, Trevor appears to be a great guy, but give him a couple months and his true self will pop out.”

At this time Sarah's phone rang; her parents wished to see her before they left. She excused herself and glanced back once, hoping it was safe for her to leave Trevor with this woman. She was more worried he would strangle her than anything else.

“What are you doing?” he barked at her.

“What about you? Never in my life did I think I would see you with her! She isn't good for you; she isn't even your type. We both know you need a girl with a little more … adventure.” She smiled seductively.

“Think whatever you want.”

“She'll break your heart; we both know that it's true.”

“She's worth it, but if she does that's my business, goodbye.”

Trevor pushed his way past her and found his way back downstairs. Sarah met him on the staircase and said she was going home. He agreed with her and they caught a cab, but the ride home was silent and so was the elevator ride up to her apartment.

“Can I come in for a little bit?” Trevor couldn't handle the silence any longer, but found his stomach was full of nerves. He hoped Sarah was not about to explode.

“Yes.” she pulled her wig off and threw it on the couch. She reached up and pulled the pins out of her hair. It fell to her shoulders. Trevor took his jacket off and flung it on the couch. All he wanted to do was to reach out and touch her arm but instead remained silent. He was at a loss for words, which rarely happened to him. Glancing around the room, he hoped to find the words he wanted his tongue to form. He saw the radio and walked over to turn it on.

“Do you want to dance with me?” he asked. She walked into his arms, as graceful as a swan. Trevor was shocked that anyone could be so poised. Silence once again continued though both could feel the questions needing to be asked.

“Did you love her?” Sarah finally inquired.

“No, not even for five minutes of my life.” He looked in her eyes as he said this. Sarah hugged his shoulder again.

“How long ago did you date?”

“Year and a half.” The song had changed, and Sarah listened to the beginning of it before continuing.

“She really hurt you–is she why you're so guarded?”

“Many people have contributed to who I've become.”

“You were serious with her?”

“Yes.” The word felt bitter in his mouth. Now Sarah stopped dancing and pulled away.

“I'm not like her, Trevor.”

He laughed and pulled her tighter to him.

“Thank the heavens above!”

She looked up at him. “Do you mean it?”

“With all my heart.” He looked down into her face.

“What did she do?”

“Cheated, lied, pretty much anything you name.”

“I'm sorry. I've been wondering–why me, Trevor?”

Trevor kissed her forehead and nose.

“Because from the moment I saw you something inside of me belonged to you. If I had never met you I would always have remembered you.”

Sarah smiled and a tear slipped down her cheek.

“I love you, Sarah, I love you because you aren't like anyone else that has ever been in my life. I love you more than anyone.”

“I love you too.” She put her head on his shoulder, falling into the music, leaving Fred and Ginger to dance into the night.

________________
_•
________________

The weeks rolled by in the timeless walls of the prison. Little changed in Trevor's everyday life. Therapy sessions progressed as they always had. Seminars with Dr. Stout remained as miserable as they ever were. Clones haunted the halls and the fat old janitor's harassment was reliable and persistent day in and day out.

Forrest was a spot of color in this gray world. He was still quiet, but opened up to Trevor more each day. The two men discussed everything imaginable throughout the hours. While lifting weights the men got on the subject of one of the inmates, Gary.

“What's that guy's deal?” Forrest nodded toward a wiry man. His prison issued uniform hung loosely on his body. Trevor looked up from the weight bench to see Gary hunched over on a chair frantically trying to lift a barbell. Trevor chuckled, seeing a twenty-five engraved in the metal.

“He doesn't seem like the type to be in rehab?”

“Why, because he can lift only twenty-five pounds?” Trevor snickered.

“Not just that–he looks like the type that would live in his mother's basement his entire life and collect comic books and action figurines.”

“Yeah,” Trevor sat up from the bench and walked with Forrest over to the weights. Each man grabbed an additional twenty pounds. “Well, looks aren't everything. The little worm is one of the most disgusting men in this place. Rehab is too nice for a man like him.”

“What's his deal?” Forrest slid the weight on the bar and fit the black safety collar in place. Trevor stood in the spotting position and helped Forrest lift the bar. He kept his hands just below the steal rod.

“His story goes way back. He was in love with this girl in high school. She was supposedly popular and wouldn't give him a second glance. He decided to change that, so one day he brought a gun to school. Killed the girl's quarterback boyfriend right in front of her. He went to a rehabilitation center but ended up being released after a year. Free to terrorize the world, his target ended up being his own mother. By this time the second amendment had been wiped from the slate. Gary couldn't get his hands on any guns so he found the next best thing, a kitchen knife. Boom, he's back in the pen for killing his own mom. A year and a half later he was back out but placed in a home for another year, just so the system could watch to make sure he didn't hurt himself.”

“Sounds like it wouldn't be too bad if he had hurt himself, permanently.” Forrest paused before bringing the bar back down to his chest.

“Pretty much. In the old days he would have been in prison headed for death row, as they called it. Anyway, in the home he lost his mind and temper somehow and poisoned one nurse and suffocated the other.”

Trevor helped bring the bar back up onto the rack. Forrest asked another question. “How long is he here for now?”

“He has Ilene Stout for his counselor, so he will probably be here until she gets him good and addicted to those damn pills.”

“Ya think he'll do it again?” Forrest sat up and wiped his face with the back of his arm.

“Who knows, if they let him out of here–probably. The one thing the government doesn't comprehend is that if they keep taking his weapons away they are only putting the innocent in danger, instead of protecting them like they want to. People like Gary will always be able to get a weapon, no matter what it has to be. Gary and the type like him will always kill.”

“I agree. I would personally want something for self-defense, instead of helplessly letting someone harm me.”

“True and the government people are so worried about someone getting their hands on a gun nowadays, that they don't open their eyes and see that there are ways for shifty people to always get a gun.”

Trevor and Forrest put the weights back on the rack before allowing two of the clones to lead them to the showers. Managers were stationed at every stall to prevent any crimes from happening. Cameras were also used within the showers, but the footage was only viewed if a crime was committed. Trevor never felt safe. The only consolation about the situation was the small metal weapons the clones possessed. They were like tasers but stronger. He didn't know exactly how the tasers were activated, or how they always stayed on the palm of the managers's hands but he had seen them used and it gave him goose bumps. A few times the cold metal piece the size of a quarter had touched his own arm while being transported to another room, and his heart stopped between steady beats. He never wanted to feel what that small weapon could do. Seeing it take down a two-hundred-fifty-pound man was enough.

Trevor was the first one out of the shower. While dressing he noticed something wrapped inside the folds of Forrest's shirt. He reached down without thinking and pulled out a half empty bottle of pills.

“'Bout ready?” Forrest came around the other side of Trevor to see what he held.

Trevor pushed the bottle into Forrest's hands. “What's this?”

“You know what it is and there's no reason to worry.”

“That is what they all say,” Trevor said bitterly.

“Wells,” Forrest shook his head and lowered his voice, “give it a break.”

Forrest popped the top off the pills and took one out. He then walked over to the sink and turned the water on. Trevor watched him lean down and get a mouth full of water. For a moment, Trevor thought Forrest had taken the pill but instead saw him drop it into the cascade of the silver water and to the drain below. Forrest swallowed the mouthful of water. Trevor only laughed and shook his head.

“I could classify you as one of those cunning people we were talking about, Evans.” Trevor slapped him on the back, turned to a clone, and allowing his restraints to be put on in order to be led to the dining hall.

The two men ambled down the line, peering through the protective plastic barrier at the array of food on the menu that day. A thin slit in the barrier allowed for Trevor to push his tray to the cook on the other side. The man (covered from head to toe in order to prevent food contamination) lobbed a spoonful of applesauce and potatoes onto the tray and returned it through the hole. He was required to accept the vegetables though they smelled like feet. Trevor picked up his spoon and poked at the greens. After all the health requirements the food had to go through, he was left with mulched broccoli and smashed peas.

Both men sat down at a table in the middle of the cafeteria. A group of men sat ten feet away from Forrest and Trevor. The official dinner hour wasn't for another forty minutes so the only other inmates were across the room, out of earshot.

It was Christmas time, or it was supposed to be. Only neutral decorations littered the walls and ceiling high above. A few years back any religious signs had been band from public display. Even decorations as simple as Santa Claus or a dreidel were prohibited because they symbolized a sacred activity. A country that had once been a great symbol of freedom and strength had grown into a monster that found it necessary to protect its citizens from their own liberties.

“You religious, Evans?”

“I was as a kid. I was taken out of my mother's custody when I was eight and lived with my grandmother. She raised me Jewish. She found religion to be an essential part of life. When I was twelve the courts thought my father could be a better parent, though everyone else knew it was the last job he could ever do right. I wasn't much of anything after that.” Forrest sounded bitter. “What about you?”

“I was raised in a Christian family. Catholic, to be specific.”

Forrest snickered. “You people are anal.”

“Hey 'you people'? Evans, keep in mind whom you're talking to. I was never as into it as my mother was.”

“And … what's your point?” Forrest teased.

“I never believed in all the harsh rules built into the basic idea of religion, just like I'm sure other people don't believe everything in their religions. You're example A.” Trevor pointed his fork at Forrest's half-eaten pork chop. Forrest chuckled and nodded in agreement with Trevor's last statement.

Trevor glanced over and saw Gary. He looked right at Forrest and then turned back to his group. It was made up of the most violent men. They only knew revenge. Their victims were those they felt had wronged them. Trevor was not worried because the only weapon Gary had was a spoon, and plastic at that. The observation made him nervous though. He turned his head back toward his dinner but something Gary held securely in his hand flickered in the light. Trevor barely had time to see it was an envelope opener before they all rushed toward them. Trevor flipped the table and ducked. He only hoped Forrest would catch on. There was no way the two of them could take on five men alone. Three rushed at Trevor. He was somewhat thankful for that because he was aware of what was going on and that gave Forrest a little more time. He broke the first one's nose. The other two attacked at the same time. One smacked Trevor right in the eye and the other in the stomach. Managers tasered the attackers and their bodies became immobile. Trevor turned his head and saw blood from one guy's nose still running down his chin to the floor. Blood was also coming out of the guy that had attacked Forrest, while Gary's white shirt didn't contain a drop of crimson blood. Trevor's gaze fell from Gary's shirt to his hands, which were coated in fresh, warm blood. The envelope opener was gone. He let his eyes fall to Forrest; blood covered his torso and the floor. Trevor tried to get to him. The strength had left his body and he fell to the floor into blackness.

When Trevor awoke he was lying in a hospital staring at the plain ceiling. His thoughts were still clouded and he thought of what had happened was a nightmare. He rolled over to tell Forrest but found monitors instead. The events came to his memory. Forrest was gone. Forrest was hurt. He sat up too fast, he swayed and his vision went black. He grabbed his head and focused on the floor. Why had this happened? Everything had taken place so rapidly.

Dr. Taylor was a small answer to his prayers. He could hear her shoes clicking on the polished floor.

“Mr. Wells, are you alright?” There was an edge of anxiety to her voice.

“
What is going on
?!” Trevor sat up, despite the nurse's failed attempts to push him down.

Dr. Taylor motioned for another nurse to bring her a chair. “I need you to calm down.”

“How can I? Forrest was stabbed! Where is he?!”

“Please lie back down. The doctor has to make sure you're alright.” Leslie placed a hand on his arm. The doctor stepped forward and lifted this shirt to examine his stomach. Trevor wanted to fight them, to break free and find Forrest. His heart beat like a commanding drum before battle. The one thought that prevented him from tearing his way through the hospital ward was Sarah.

“Mr. Evans was rushed to Saint Joseph's.”

“He was bleeding all over.”

“I'm sorry, I don't know his condition.”

“Does anyone?” Trevor looked up at the doctor. He shook his head. Another nurse called out for him. He hastily vanished, leaving Trevor's stomach still exposed. Leslie gingerly reached up and pulled his T-shirt back down. Trevor felt her cool fingers brush against his skin. A rosy hue burned across her ivory cheekbones.

“I will find out anything I can,” her voice grew soft.

Her eyes focused on her hands in her lap. Trevor had never thought Dr. Taylor truly wanted to help him until this moment. He could almost see her inner struggle. She tried to keep the lines of professionalism separate from genuine feelings of concern.

“I trust you will, Dr. Taylor.”

________________
_•
________________

Trevor didn't have to spend hours wondering about Forrest. He didn't even have to wait until he got back to his cell. The large muscular presence of an African American man said everything. He turned gracefully, yet slowly like a large elephant toward Trevor. He had a blank expression so any hint of personality was carefully hidden.

The man had been rearranging his belongings where Forrest's had been. He sat down on the bed when Trevor entered. Trevor held the man's gaze, which was kind but sturdy. The massive size of his body was not because of fat, but 100 percent muscle. He reminded Trevor of an ancient Greek god. That is when Trevor realized he had seen him before, in seminars with Dr. Stout.

Trevor saw the few belongings of the man where Forrest's had been. Why had he gotten this new roommate so quickly? All the other times it had taken weeks.

“Hey,” Trevor didn't know exactly what to say.

“Hello,” the deep baritone voice replied. “Blaine Martin.”

“Trevor Wells.” The large black hand gripped his. Trevor sat down on his bed to face the man. The shock of the situation was wearing off. He was tired and upset about everything. He wanted to crawl under his blanket and forget about the day's events.

“You look troubled; did you happen to be the guy's roommate that got stabbed?”

“Yeah, how did you know that?”

“Gary was my roommate,” Blaine could clearly see Trevor's eyes narrow in hatred. “Do you think they would stick anyone else in a small room with him?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Plus, Gary was well watched, which enabled them to watch me in this hellhole of a prison.” Blaine started to put the rest of his belongings in the dresser.

Trevor was surprised to hear Blaine use the word prison. No one else ever called it that.

“Why would they want to keep an eye on you?” Trevor asked. For the first time the unyielding facial features cracked and he showed a striking white smile.

“I supposedly did a few things the government didn't like.”

“Did you?”

Blaine chuckled. “Of course not,” but the twinkle in his dark eyes told another story. Trevor shook his head; in time he would learn this man's secrets.