Average Joe and the Extraordinaires by Belart Wright Read Free Book Online

on him how much
trouble he was in.  He was a terrorist — to the rest of the town at least — and
would be tried as such.  They’ll probably give me to a firing squad for
treason or something , he thought.
    The old
guy loudly snapped his fingers.
    Hank:
“Pay attention, Joe Shmoe!  I don’t have a lot of time.”
    Joe
looked the man in the eyes and nodded.
    Joe:
“Yessir.”
    The old
guy pulled a chair from outside the room and sat. He studied Joe for a moment
and found his opening.
    Hank:
“What happened in that stadium, kid?”
    Joe
didn’t know where to start.
    Joe:
“Well … um … me and my friends wanted to see the Pickers, and Mod—”
    Hank:
“Enough foreplay, kid.  Start from the explosion.  You were there for that,
right?”
    Joe:
“Yessir.  It happened during the second quarter.  I was watching the game when
it happened.”
    Hank:
“What happened to your friends?”
    Joe: “I
don’t know.  I didn’t see them after.”
    Hank:
“But they were sitting right next to you, right?  How did they get out but not
you?  What the hell were you doing in there that whole time?”
    Joe
froze.  He didn’t know what to say.  Most of what he did earlier was probably
very illegal.  The old guy was sharp as a tack.  He was quick to notice Joe’s
hesitation.
    Hank:
“What the hell were you doing in there, kid!  Talk!”
    Joe
pushed his chair back and spelled it out for Hank.
    Joe:
“N-no.  I want a l-l-lawyer.”
    Joe tried
his best to sound a lot bigger than he actually was or felt.  Hank had risen
out of his chair so fast and with such fury that he looked like a man half his
age.  Joe sprung backwards and out of his seat as he tried to scramble away. 
There was venom in the old man’s glare.  He screamed at Joe.
    Hank: “Do
I look like a damned cop?”
    After
that his voice lowered to a subdued growl, but his demeanor was no less
intense.
    Hank: “I
wasn’t born yesterday, Joe.  I do know that you were somehow a part of the day’s
activities.  You wouldn’t have come out of the building nearly a whole hour
later if you weren’t.  Why were you so scared of those security guards at the
stadium?  You ran from them like you were running for your life, and the way
that you tackled that last one to get outside … you weren’t just scared of
getting into trouble or getting a little roughed up.  If that were the case you
wouldn’t have so willingly surrendered yourself to the cops outside.”
    Joe
stared at the floor and gave a soft shrug.  He honestly didn’t know if he
should answer that.
    Hank:
“Why’d you give up once you made it outside?  If you wanted to get away so bad,
why didn’t you try to keep running once you made it out?  What about those
guards inside frightened you so much?”
    Joe
looked at Hank for a while before he decided that he was better off not
talking.  He wasn’t sure if it was a bit of savvy that he’d picked up from all
those cop shows he watched, or fear that stayed his tongue.
    Hank took
a moment to reassess the situation and let out a sigh.  He wasn’t dealing with
the hardened criminals that he was accustomed to dealing with.  He was dealing
with a young teenager.  He needed to change his approach.
    Hank:
“Listen, kid — Joe.  Anything you say to me now won’t be used against you or
those you care about.  I just want answers.  I lost someone in that stadium and
I just want to know if you saw them.  Now, can you level with me, kid, we don’t
have much time.”
    Joe: “Who
— who are you?”
    Hank: “My
name is Borland, Hank Borland.  You’re a kid, so use my last name.”
    Joe: “Are
you a—”
    Hank:
“I'm not a cop, but I used to be one a long time ago.  Right now I’m looking
for a woman named Dahlila.  Did you see her in that stadium?  About yay high
and tougher than Kevlar.”
    Joe’s
heart and stomach jumped at the name.  He was sure that everything that happened
under that stadium had just been an alcohol-induced