Choose This Day

Gene drove like the freeway had personally insulted him.

One hand on the wheel.

One hand drumming against the door.

Eyes constantly shifting between mirrors.

The stolen Escalade rattled every time we hit a seam in the road. Wind screamed through the shattered rear window, where Kristy Lee sat sideways with a rifle across her lap, watching the traffic behind us.

Nobody had spoken for almost five minutes.

Not real conversation.

Just breathing.

Everybody in that SUV carried the exhausted silence of people who had survived something ugly together.

Everybody except me.

I still didn’t know what the hell I had survived.

I looked at Gene.

“You going to tell me what’s happening?”

“Nope.”

“That’s getting old.”

“Yeah, well…”

He checked the mirror again.

“Being shot at gets old too.”

Behind us, Bodhi sat with Rachel tucked against one side of him and Sasha pressed tightly against the other.

The dog had arranged herself so that Bodhi’s body remained between her and Rachel.

Rachel noticed.

She didn’t comment.

She looked strangely calm considering the morning we’d had.

Not numb.

Not in shock.

Calm.

That bothered me more than the gunfire.

Kristy Lee leaned forward from the back row.

“You all right up there, Dan?”

“Depends. Are we still being hunted by psychopaths?”

Gene checked the mirror again.

“Probably.”

“Wonderful.”

I rubbed both hands down my face.

An hour ago, my biggest concern had been whether E. Shaw Alvarado would destroy his career before he got drafted.

Now I was riding shotgun beside a biker demolition expert while armed cultists chased us across San Diego.

Life comes at you fast.

The signs for Otay Mesa appeared ahead.

Beyond them…

Brown Field Municipal Airport.

For the first time since the insanity began, something in my chest loosened.

Home-field advantage.

I knew this place.

Knew the people.

Knew the rhythms.

No mystery.

No madness.

Just planes.

I had called Jeb as soon as the last Order SUV disappeared behind us.

Told him to fuel my plane.

Call my pilot.

File for Callahan Field.

Get everything ready.

I hadn’t explained why.

Jeb had known me long enough not to ask questions when my voice sounded like that.

“I’ve got us,” I said quietly.

Gene glanced sideways.

“You sure about that?”

“No,” I admitted. “But this is my world.”

Gene didn’t answer.

That silence should have warned me.

We approached a controlled service gate near the private hangars. The gate began rolling open before we stopped.

Jeb stood beside the control box holding a clipboard in one hand and a medical kit in the other.

Retired Air Force.

Permanent sunburn.

Twenty years at Brown Field.

Smoked cigars that smelled like fruit and tasted, according to him, like freedom.

Seeing him somehow made the world feel normal again.

Then he saw the Escalade.

His expression changed.

Gene rolled through the gate.

Jeb closed it behind us and hurried toward the passenger side.

I climbed out.

My back protested.

My knees joined in.

The adrenaline was beginning to wear off, and apparently every part of my body had filed a complaint.

Jeb looked past me into the SUV.

“Who needs medical attention?”

“Her.”

I pointed toward Kristy Lee.

She climbed out with blood dried along one arm and the rifle still in her other hand.

Jeb looked at the weapon.

Then at the bullet holes.

Then at me.

“Mr. Callahan…”

“Long story.”

“I was afraid of that.”

He guided Kristy Lee toward a workbench outside Hangar Six and opened the medical kit.

Gene parked the Escalade where it couldn’t be seen from the main access road.

Bodhi climbed out next.

Then Rachel.

Sasha followed Bodhi and immediately placed herself between them.

My plane waited on the private apron beyond the hangar.

Fueled.

Luggage compartment open.

Pilot already aboard.

Auxiliary power running.

Ready.

Jeb had done exactly what I asked.

He always did.

For one brief moment, I considered putting everyone on the plane and staying behind.

Give them transportation.

Call the police.

Call my attorneys.

Call somebody who understood secret religious armies and beautiful women who could bring the dead back through prayer.

Let Gene take them wherever they needed to go.

Let this become someone else’s problem.

Simple.

Clean.

I looked toward the rear service exit.

I could walk away.

Then I looked at the people standing in my hangar.

Gene watching every entrance.

Kristy Lee allowing Jeb to bandage her arm while pretending it didn’t hurt.

Bodhi standing beside the woman he had searched three years to find.

Sasha refusing to take her eyes off Rachel.

Rachel watching me as if she could hear every thought passing through my head.

I exhaled through my nose.

“All right.”

Everyone looked at me.

“No more introductions. No more vague warnings.”

I pointed toward Rachel.

“What does the Order want with her?”

No answer.

“What is the Dreamer?”

That produced several looks.

Still no answer.

“Why did John send all of you to me?”

Gene opened his mouth.

Stopped.

Bodhi looked toward Kristy Lee.

Kristy Lee looked toward Rachel.

Rachel only smiled.

I shook my head.

“Unbelievable.”

Jeb finished wrapping Kristy Lee’s arm and closed the medical kit.

He stood.

Then looked toward the taxiway.

Something in his face changed.

Not fear exactly.

Unease.

“Dan…”

That tone reached me immediately.

Athletes know tone.

Spend enough years in locker rooms, interviews, huddles, and hospitals, and you learn that fear has a sound before it has words.

“What is it?”

Jeb lifted his handheld radio.

“Unscheduled arrival requested your ramp.”

I frowned.

“Whose?”

The roar of jet engines answered.

A black Gulfstream rolled slowly across the tarmac toward Hangar Six.

Expensive enough to buy a neighborhood.

Gene muttered beside me.

“Aw, hell.”

The Gulfstream stopped thirty yards away.

Its engines wound down.

The cabin door opened.

JuJu Johnson stepped out first wearing a tailored charcoal suit and carrying a large black umbrella.

Underneath it emerged Albert Davidson.

Owner of the San Diego Stallions.

My former boss.

My former mentor.

My former almost-family.

“Well,” Gene said quietly. “That answers some questions.”

“Creates a few too.”

JuJu walked carefully beside Davidson, keeping the umbrella between the old man and the California sun.

That image alone told me something had changed.

Albert Davidson hated appearing weak.

Age had finally started winning.

He spotted me and smiled.

“Danny boy!”

I groaned.

“Please don’t call me that in front of people.”

Davidson laughed warmly as they approached.

JuJu didn’t smile.

Never blinked much either.

He looked like the kind of man who practiced murder in the mirror.

Davidson stopped a few feet away.

“Sorry. Dan. Old habits.”

“Good to see you too, sir.”

I turned toward JuJu.

“Johnson.”

“Callahan.”

They had once called JuJu the future.

They had once called me the problem standing in front of it.

Same league.

Same city.

Same owner.

Same stupid belief that replacing one man with another would fix everything.

I could still see the practice fields.

Training camps.

Closed-door meetings.

The slow pressure of a franchise trying to push me out without saying the words.

JuJu had been the announcement.

I had been the expiration date.

He stepped forward and hugged me.

Hard.

Too hard.

Like he was checking whether I had hidden a knife.

“You disappeared on me,” he said.

“I retired.”

“Cowardly decision.”

“Worked out all right so far.”

His eyes drifted beyond me.

He barely registered Gene.

Paused on Kristy Lee.

Then saw Rachel.

Everything changed.

His arms dropped away.

His smile faded.

Not entirely.

Enough.

JuJu looked at Davidson.

The old man stared at Rachel like a dying traveler seeing water.

“Oh,” Davidson whispered.

Bodhi stepped in front of her.

Sasha moved with him.

Interesting.

Davidson noticed too.

“My boy.”

His voice softened.

“My dear, sweet boy. You found her.”

Bodhi didn’t answer.

Rachel looked down.

Pale.

Resigned.

Almost frightened.

It was the first time I had seen her look like anything other than entertained.

Sasha growled.

I stepped sideways, blocking Davidson’s path.

“Sir, what exactly are you doing here?”

He blinked like he had forgotten I existed.

Then his smile returned.

Mostly.

“Business. There’s a young quarterback I’m considering.”

“E. Shaw Alvarado?”

“The very one.”

“That kid’s a walking migraine.”

Davidson chuckled.

“They can’t all be you.”

Fair point.

Gene moved beside me.

Not casually.

Protectively.

“I don’t like this,” he muttered.

Davidson’s attention shifted.

Recognition appeared immediately.

“Well.”

He smiled thinly.

“Teddy’s bomber boy.”

Gene’s jaw tightened.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Shame what happened to him. I heard you were involved.”

Davidson’s smile widened.

“No one likes a disloyal employee.”

“Disloyal?”

Gene stepped forward.

“I’ll show you disloyal.”

JuJu met him halfway and planted one hand in the middle of his chest.

Even Gene moved backward.

Only one step.

But he moved.

I caught Gene’s arm before the situation became another freeway gunfight.

“You two know each other?”

Gene never looked away from Davidson.

“Know of each other.”

That answer carried weight.

Dangerous weight.

Davidson dismissed him and turned back to me.

“Actually, I heard you needed transportation.”

“We’re fine.”

“Nonsense. Take my jet.”

Gene answered immediately.

“No.”

Davidson looked at him.

“I wasn’t asking you.”

“Still no.”

I stepped between them.

“Sir.”

I kept my voice level.

“What is really happening?”

Davidson studied me.

Then sighed.

“I always liked you, Dan. You saw the field better than anyone I ever employed.”

The old football instinct twitched in my stomach.

Something disguised.

Something hidden.

A blocker coming from where he didn’t belong.

Davidson pointed toward Rachel.

“I want her.”

Bodhi stepped forward.

“The hell you do.”

Davidson smiled.

“Oh, I absolutely do.”

Rachel moved closer to Bodhi.

Sasha didn’t move with her.

Gene leaned toward me.

“That’s our cue to leave.”

Davidson ignored him.

“The Order of the Veil has served for generations. We have waited a very long time.”

The name hit the group hard.

Bodhi cursed.

Kristy Lee stiffened.

Rachel closed her eyes.

Once again, I was the only man without the playbook.

“What is the Veil?”

Davidson looked genuinely surprised.

“They haven’t told you?”

“Told me what?”

He laughed softly.

“My God. They dragged you into this blind.”

“Into what?”

His eyes returned to Rachel.

“The Dreamer.”

Nobody spoke.

I looked around.

Every face told me the same thing.

This was real.

Whatever the insanity was…

they believed it.

Gene stepped closer.

“Dan, we need to get airborne.”

Davidson’s pleasant expression finally cracked.

“You don’t understand what she is.”

Bodhi snapped.

“She’s my wife.”

“No.”

Davidson’s voice fell to a reverent whisper.

“She belongs to something much greater.”

That was the moment I understood.

This wasn’t faith.

It was ownership dressed up as worship.

Davidson took another step toward Rachel.

JuJu moved with him.

Bodhi tightened his fists.

Gene shifted his stance.

Kristy Lee lowered her center of gravity.

Jeb took one step backward and lifted his radio.

“Brown Field security, Hangar Six. I need—”

JuJu reached inside his coat.

Everything happened at once.

Gene starting forward.

Bodhi moving Rachel behind him.

Kristy Lee dropping low.

Jeb speaking into the radio.

My brain diagnosed the play half a second before it developed.

Gun.

“DOWN!”

JuJu drew.

The shot cracked across the tarmac.

Jeb dropped.

I drove into JuJu before he could fire again.

We hit the pavement hard.

He was still strong.

Former professional strong.

But old injuries had stolen half a step.

Mine hadn’t.

I trapped his wrist against the concrete.

Twisted.

Something snapped.

JuJu screamed.

The pistol skidded across the tarmac.

Gene grabbed it.

I crawled toward Jeb.

He lay on his back beside the medical kit.

Blood spread beneath his shirt.

Too much.

Too fast.

I pressed both hands against the wound.

“Jeb.”

His eyes found mine.

For one second, he was there.

Then he wasn’t.

“Jeb.”

Nothing.

No breath.

No pulse.

No second chance.

Somewhere beyond the hangars, an alarm began to sound.

Sirens answered from the access road.

I remained on my knees with Jeb’s blood covering my hands.

Marcus in my living room.

Jeb on the tarmac.

Two men who had known me before that morning began.

Both dead.

Gene grabbed my shoulder.

“Dan.”

I didn’t move.

“He’s gone.”

I knew that.

Knowing didn’t help.

Davidson backed away from us, staring at Rachel with desperate fury.

“You don’t understand!”

Gene raised JuJu’s pistol.

“Don’t care.”

Davidson ignored him.

He stepped toward me and grabbed the front of my shirt.

Not angry.

Desperate.

His fingers twisted into the fabric.

“You’re choosing the wrong side.”

His eyes weren’t sane anymore.

“You don’t understand what she is.”

Sirens grew louder beyond the controlled gate.

Airport security vehicles appeared at the far end of the service road.

Davidson pulled me closer.

“She can change everything. Do you hear me? Everything.”

Jeb lay behind him in a widening pool of blood.

“The Dreamer can make your dreams real. Wealth. Power. Peace. Anything.”

His voice cracked.

“You don’t walk away from something like this.”

I stared past him.

At Jeb.

At JuJu clutching his broken wrist.

At the black Gulfstream Davidson had offered us.

A plane Gene had recognized as a trap before I did.

Then I peeled Davidson’s hands from my shirt.

“I already have all that.”

I shoved him backward.

Then pointed toward my own plane.

“Everybody move.”

Nobody argued.

Gene helped Kristy Lee toward the stairs.

Bodhi followed with Sasha.

Rachel climbed aboard behind them.

I stopped at the bottom of the steps and looked back.

JuJu writhed on the pavement, holding his ruined wrist.

Airport security raced toward the apron.

Jeb remained where he had fallen.

And Albert Davidson stood alone on the tarmac…

holding his own umbrella.

Funny how small kings look once nobody is left to carry them.

I boarded.

The cabin door closed behind me.

My pilot looked back from the cockpit.

“Mr. Callahan, Jeb filed us for Callahan Field. We have our clearance, but airport operations is moving toward the ramp.”

“Get us airborne.”

“Yes, sir.”

The cockpit door closed.

Gene remained in the cabin.

Away from the pilot.

The engines came alive.

The aircraft began to taxi as airport security reached Hangar Six.

Nobody tried to cross in front of us.

Nobody fired.

We reached the runway.

Turned.

Accelerated.

Then Brown Field fell away beneath us.

For several minutes, nobody spoke.

Bodhi wrapped both arms around Rachel.

Sasha lay at his feet with her head against his leg, watching Rachel from beneath half-closed eyes.

Kristy Lee finally lowered her rifle.

Gene sat across from me.

Still studying me.

Like he was trying to decide whether I had made the worst mistake of all our lives.

Maybe I had.

I stared out the window as San Diego shrank beneath us.

My house was gone.

Lost River had barely begun.

Marcus was dead.

Jeb was dead.

My old life disappeared beneath the clouds one piece at a time.

Gene leaned forward.

“Where are we going?”

“Texas.”

“Why Texas?”

I closed my eyes.

“Mama will know what to do.”