Chapter 6

After Jesse chewed me out for tromping oil on the kitchen floor, she had Radio march me outside and hose me down. Then she got busy getting Dusty a bath, dinner and some clean clothes. By the time I got all the oil out of my hair and got back downstairs, Jesse and Dusty were sitting at the table engaged in a heavy discussion.

"Thomas, Dusty needs our help." I turned my back to her and walked over to the stereo. I put on Royal Scam by Steely Dan.

"Thomas," she repeated to make sure I was listening. Dusty says there is a group of children hiding not far from here who need food and medical attention. Her imaginary friend told her to come here. They can't or won't go to the authorities..." She gave me a long and penetrating look. "Honey, I've been talking to Joey and his friend for quite a while now. There's a lot going on that I need to talk to you about. We're going to have to leave town immediately."

I said I'm not very good at being the practical one in our household but it seemed like Jesse had overloaded a circuit. "Look Jess, I know crazy things are going on but we need to consider our options. We don't know what kind of phenomenon these `imaginary friends' are. I can't see us making any radical moves until we are a little clearer about what's going on."

Joey pursed his lips in a sign of pique. "Dad, we gotta go. It's our job. We gotta help the kids." He looked ready to cry at my stubbornness.

I was afraid of something like this. "Jess, if we get involved with these runaways and we don't report them, we could be the ones that end up behind bars. I know damn well why they're avoiding the police but we've got a family to think about."

Radio, Joey, Jesse and the little girl all looked at me like I was something undesirable found on the bottom of a shoe. I backpedaled. "Did I say that? I didn't say that. I meant to say what do they need, where do we go?" I had developed great survival skills in eighteen years of married life. I also knew when to sit down and shut up.

"I am very familiar with the risks involved Thomas." She hadn't quite scraped me off her foot. "However, these are children who have no way out. We've got to help. They have no friends in the system. Besides, Joey's friend says this is our job. He says we have to get them out of the city and to a safe place."

Did I say I knew when to shut up? "Out of the city! Do you know what you're talking about. That's probably kidnapping! Besides there must be thousands of them. Jesse are you out of your mind." Giving these little guys some food and attention was one thing, but I would be damned if I was going to see my whole family on the lam from the FBI. "Jess, there's got to be another way. We could stir up some grief at city hall, try to keep them out of their parents hands, call congressmen and contact the media. There are a lot of ways to do this. Be reasonable, Jess, we can't do them any good if we're watchin' this thing from inside maximum security."

"The `friends' will provide mister." The girl looked older now that she was clean and dressed in one of Joey's sweat suits. "Things ain't ever gonna be the same. It's over. The grumps ain't gonna run the world anymore." She looked at me. There was a disturbing defiance in her bold, black eyes. "Besides, you can hear the gere calling. You ain't no dumbo." Her eyebrows arched into triangles. "Stop fighting it...you know what you got to do."

Another reason is that no matter how big you are, there's always someone bigger, and in this case it was John Smith, Sr., Variety's husband, the original immovable object. John played tackle for University of Houston a few years back and takes good care of himself. He's not as tall as I am but he has the profile of an oil drum and arms like cedar trunks. I always pay attention when he talks.

"Hold up there a minute Unc'. The teachers are havin' a conference and they don't want no visitors." He's a gentle man, but I know when he means business. I stopped.

"Hey John, I thought your position was tackle, not guard."

He chuckled "My position is the same as yours Unc', step n' fetch it an run blocker. They'll be out in a minute. I'm sure they want to see you."

Big John is a wildlife biologist. I leaned back against the lockers and asked him about his last trip to the desert, an expedition to find a fast disappearing predator called the black-footed ferret which, John had told me before he left, lives off prarie dog colonies. His eyes lit up but before he could get started, Variety stuck her head out the conference room door.

"Thomas, good, please come in." She motioned down the hall. "John, send in Mr. Purcival as soon as he arrives. Oh, he's there by the door, and Ricky Esquivel, that young man in the gang colors. No one else."

As I entered the room, Variety gave me a pinch and a warning sign with her eyes. All was not safe and in the open. I figured I'd better watch my P's and Q's. Up against the walls of the room were several of the senior staff.

Heading up the conference table was some overweight Catholic priest to whom Sister Alicia, the managing director of the school, was being decidedly deferential. Joining them was Sister Ruth, the pinch-faced chief administrator, Sister Mary Catherine, the academic head mistress and another of my buddies, Sister Willa.

I like Sister Willa. She had only come to the school two years before. She had been a university history professor and had decided to teach younger people because as she put it. "I chose to make history instead of teaching it." She headed the small middle school program and taught preschool gymnastics.

Before I could take a seat, the door opened again and in came the unlikely duo of the male model and the gang leader. The guy in the silk suit had alert, clever eyes and moved with an astounding gracefulness. His dark complexion and coal black hair crowned a hawklike face, arresting and elegant. I decided there might be more to him than good looks.

The little bandit figited like a cat in a cage and had that same cold defiance in his eyes I had seen on the faces of so many other children in the last twenty-four hours. On him, however, it had clearly developed into an art form.

"Father William," Variety began the introductions. "This is Mr. Thomas Bowie, one of our parent leaders." She pointed to fancypants. "I'd like you to meet Mr. James Purcival, a respected business leader and long time financial supporter of the school, and this young man..." she put her hand on young Pancho Villa's shoulder "...is Ricky Esquivel. He is the big brother of two of our state ward children and their primary provider. He is here at the request of the missing ward children."

The priest acknowleged each of us by repeating our names and nodding but made no eye contact. The old guy knew how to stay in control of a meeting.

"I thank you for joining us." he began "As I am sure you know from the news reports, we have an unprecedented situation on our hands. I am sorry to say that the frightening circumstances that confront us here are not limited to our area alone. It seems that this situation is circling the globe.

"I have been in contact this morning with representatives of the church and it appears that similar, if not more difficult conditions, are occuring in parishes around the world..." He paused to let that sink in, then looked over at Ricky Esquivel. "Mr. Esquivel, it seems that young children from this school have left their parents and I suspect that you are aware of their location. Their parents are understandably distraught. We are all concerned for their safety. I suggest that it would be to all our best interests if they returned to the ones who love them."

Esquivel wore a red plaid shirt and a bluejeans jacket with no arms and some kind of gang logo on the back I couldn't read. His long, charcoal hair was oiled and combed back. It rose up from his forehead in a dome then slid down to his shoulders through a bandana that rode low over his eyebrows. The little Chicano turned up his nose like he smelled one of Jubie's specials. "Love padre?" He made it sound like a four letter word. "Yeah they been gettin' love awright. They been gettin' loved where the sun don't shine. Dese kids, they been to hell man, grumps been beatin' `em and buggerin' `em." He turned and spit on the floor behind him. It was quite a tough guy act. I was impressed. He turned back with a cold smile. "They ain't ever goin' back. Might as well get used to that. You wanna talk. Okay I'm here, but you and the Pope needa listen, not talk. Things are changin' on the street man."

Obviously the priest was a bit more experienced with society fundraisers than with street kids. He swallowed his distaste at the youngster's hostility. "I understand that there are accusations of abuse," he said "however, that is a matter for the authorities, not for you or I. In the meantime, the children obviously need food and shelter, medical attention and other support that you cannot give them." The priest was a bit oily for me. His puffy complexion, twitchy, mechanical eyes and devious manner smelled of manipulation and self interest. "My God boy," he continued. "several people have died, this is not a playground situation."

"You wouldn't last two days on my playground old man." The kid's upper lip curled in disdain. "The `authorities' had dere chance man. What they do, huh. I tell you what the `authorities' do. Nothin'! They lock the kids up, they talk bullshit, then they give up the kids to the grumps. The kids end up dead." He arched one eye and pointed his finger accusingly. "I told you to listen popeman, It's over," He leaned over the table and into the priest's face. "You `grumps' ain't gonna run things no more. You don't tell us what to do."

James Purcival leaned forward in his chair. "Mr. Esquivel, I think I understand your feelings in this matter. I also get angry at the idea of children being hurt. I assure you that no one here wishes anything but security and proper care for your friends."

"Then call off the cops, let the kids downtown go and leave us alone. If you wanna help...help. Don't try to run things." His voice got less harsh. "Somma the kids got hurt. They need help but they'd rather die than go back to the grumps." He sounded worried. "You gotta do this my way. They'll know if I come back with the cops."

For the first time, he let down his macho veneer. He was almost begging. "You gotta understand. I ain't the boss. I don't even understand all this. But they got their ways of knowin' things. They ain't the same kids they was before. They're changin'...my little brothers..." His eyes clouded over for a second "...they know things, they see things..." His face shut down again. The chip dropped back onto his shoulder. "But some of them are hurt. You gonna help or what?"

The priest looked uncertain. He looked down for a moment, then nodded at Sister Ruth. She opened the rear door to the conference room and two policemen stepped out. He turned to young Esquivel and spoke. "I cannot allow this school or anyone associated with this institution or the Catholic church to undermine the duly appointed authorities. I am sorry young man but I must inform you that you may be certified an adult and face criminal charges if you do not tell us where the children are hiding right now!" The two cops started moving across the room.

Several things happened fast at that point. Teachers started complaining loudly about the priest's gestapo tactics. Variety stepped to the hall door and had a few words with John. Young Esquivel said "Up yours, preacher" and bolted around the table. I lost control of my big feet as the two cops walked by and accidentally tripped one, sending him sprawling on the floor. I jumped up apologizing and bumped the other up against the wall while exclaiming "Oh, excuse me officer, my fault officer. Here let me help you." and doing my best three stooges hand jive.

I reached down to help the first guy up and the cop I had been playing pattycake with pushed me hard on the back and sent me flying across the table. Little Ricky ducked out the door with my irritated gendarme in hot pursuit but just as the trooper reached the double door I saw Variety make a hand signal and the closed door slammed open with incredible force throwing the unprepared officer back across the room like a rag doll. John Sr. stuck his head in sheepishly. "Oh, I'm sorry, was someone behind the door?"

Variety cried out "John can't you be more careful" and ran to help the plastered officer, inadvertantly stumbling over the guy I had tripped who was just picking himself off the floor. She fell on top of him and accidently kneed him in the groin. Next she started screaming something implying he was "running his hands all over..." her body.

I jumped off the table and held John Sr. back from crushing the offending officer's head like an eggshell.

By the time I got John Sr. calmed down, Ricky Esquivel was long gone. The poor policemen were somewhat worse for the wear. We apologized for our clumsiness so many times they almost believed us and stumbled off to report that this covey of lost kids was still lost. I felt sorry for them. They were just doing their job and it was obvious they had seen a bad couple of days.

Good `ol Father William was not so easily placated. He asked us to return to the conference room after the "peace" officers left.

"I am not clear about your motivations but it seems to me that the little vaudeville skit you just put on has put us all in a bad position. We can ill afford to estrange ourselves from the police force in these troubled times. It does not serve the school or the diocese to create suspicion in their minds. We do not want them questioning our loyalty." His face was almost purple.

I was tired, had a bruise on my shin from the fracas and had no desire to be lectured like a divinity student caught masterbating. I listened for a minute then butted in. "Father William, it seems to me that our first mission in this school is to serve and protect the children. Your actions today make it clear that you are ill equipped to handle that mission. You clearly negotiated in bad faith and have now put at risk the very children this meeting was created to serve. Now, thanks to your imperious little grandstand, we have some kids out there in need of help and we have no way to get to them."

There were murmurs of assent from around the room. The priest was clearly not used to open rebellion. His face was so red he looked like an overripe tomato. "You have no right to talk to me like that." He dissolved into an apoplectic cascade of spurts and coughs while Sisters Alicia and Ruth tried to calm him. I turned to leave with Variety and John as the room broke up into a jumble of individual conversations.

"Stop" he screamed. "This matter is much more serious than you think. There is something behind all this... something demonic. These are not children! They are...something else."

The rest of us were shocked into silence. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. He went on.

"Have any of you been around these children. I have. I spent most of Sunday with several of them. They are no longer children. There is something...inside them. We must fight it. It threatens us all."

Now I was pissed...and scared. It never occured to me this could turn into a witch hunt. "You've out of your mind." I said and stormed out.

Sister Willa walked out with us, probably an exit more insulting to the priest than the rest of us combined. Variety took her hand as we walked.

"I'm sorry Willa, I'm sure that didn't help our cause for leaving the school open but I just couldn't abide that dirty trick. If I have caused you any embarassment, I apologize."

Sister Willa looked at Variety with sparks in her eyes. "Do not apologize child. Your actions were the only honorable ones that occurred in the room. Before the meeting started, the good father informed us that the diocese has already decided to close the school until this crisis is over. They apparently feel the risks for the church are greater than the needs of the children." Willa's normally warm features burned with anger. She visibly controlled her emotions and smiled at Variety. "So, we are battling windmills once again it would seem. I am sorry my dear, I`m afraid there is nothing for us to do but go home and wait it out."

While Variety and John collected a few things in her classroom, I walked out onto the playground to say goodbye. The school had been a special place in my life and given the events of the last two days, I doubted I would see it again any time soon.

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