33.
OUTSIDE THE WARDEN’S HOUSE
Same day—Friday, September 13, 1935
Something cracks, a sound like splitting wood. The world spins, the boat deck is slipping out from under me. My legs buckle, a sharp pain rips my skull. But I try to hold on to myself. I can’t lose consciousness. Can’t go away. Nat needs me. Piper needs me.
The bright spotlight shines on us, blood floats out, warm blood I taste in my mouth.
The air is suddenly black with flies, swarms of them buzzing everywhere. Janet Trixle’s voice booms through the bullhorn. “Stop!”
“They don’t have guns!” I shout as loud as I can.
The second strike is harder. My knees buckle, the alarm bell blares, splitting my ears in two.
Then suddenly Seven Fingers is gone. I sway from the abrupt release of his hold on my neck. I try to keep from going down. Buddy Boy, Willy One Arm, and Seven Fingers scatter, leaping over us as the boat sputters to a start.
Out of the fog comes the clatter of Janet Trixle holding the bullhorn, running with Theresa. I hear the clip of something being thrown and then I see Annie tossing stones; one after the other she clobbers Seven Fingers right in the Adam’s apple, Buddy in the back. Guards are everywhere. More guards. Real guards. Rifle shots from the guard tower pelt the bay. Seven Fingers jumps the buck sergeant. Trixle thunders down the road waving his billy. Next thing I know Nat’s shouting to Trixle, “No gun!”
Trixle squints at her, unsure whether to believe her or not.
“She’s right. It’s not a gun!” I shout as loud as I can and Darby vaults on Seven Fingers, who has the buck sergeant in a headlock. “Let go. Mother of God! Let go!” he shouts, his feet and arms pummeling Seven Fingers.
Seven Fingers lets go and Darby wrestles him to the ground, flattens him, holds his neck in a pincher grip.
The boat strains against the rope, bucking and roaring as Buddy Boy guns the engine, trying to pull the cleat out of the dock. Buddy Boy and Willy One Arm are barricaded in the captain’s compartment. The boat roars, the dock creaks, Mr. Bomini jumps on top of the captain’s compartment and bangs his billy, shattering the glass. Buddy Boy grabs Bomini’s hand and tries to twist the billy out of it. More shots splatter down from the guard tower, causing little explosions in the water. Annie pelts more stones. And then Buddy Boy comes out, waving a hummingbird handkerchief in the air, but hiding his head in his guard jacket, his smiling mouth finally still.
One Arm tries to bolt. He heads straight for the side of the boat like his plan is to jump overboard, but Bomini is too fast for him. He grabs him and slams him to the deck so hard, it knocks him out cold.
“C’mon,” my father says, his arm hovering above Natalie’s shoulders as he pushes me and Piper across the gangplank.
Tears stream down Nat’s face. “No guns,” she whispers.
My father’s face is white as a flash of lightning in the dark sky as he herds Theresa and Janet, Jimmy and Annie, Piper and me into the canteen. Piper is ranting, her words slur. She grabs hold of my dad. “He’s my brother. I have to find him.”
“It’s okay now, sweetheart.” My father makes his voice as soft as fur, propping Piper up with his arm.
“You don’t understand!” Piper shouts. “They took the baby!”
“What?” My father’s neck snaps and then he sees me. “Moose, you’re bleeding!” He’s next to me now, his finger probing my head. He rips the sleeve of his shirt and dabs at the blood with it. “We got to get you to Doc Ollie.”
“My brother!” Piper begs. She hangs on my father’s jacket. “Please, please, the baby.”
Janet Trixle still has the bullhorn and a look of stunned exhilaration on her face. She and Theresa are holding hands as they huddle together with Annie and Jimmy.
“I’m okay, Dad,” I tell him, “but Willy took the baby.”
“On the boat?”
“No, up top,” I say.
Piper’s face is just inches from my father’s. “You have to help me.”
My dad points to me. “Exactly where did you last see the baby?”
“Outside the warden’s house.”
“Willy One Arm took the baby,” Nat echoes, flicking her chin against her chest. “One baby. Willy One Arm. One.”
“Where?” My father’s eyes are riveted to me.
“We don’t know where!” Piper shouts.
My father nods a quick nod. “We’ll send someone up there. We’ll find him.” His voice is calm again, but his eyes dart toward the phone outside Mrs. Caconi’s door.
“I didn’t, I didn’t want him to,” Piper whispers.
“Of course you didn’t, honey. Of course not,” my father reassures her as he leaps outside to dial. “Officer Flanagan here. The Williamses’ baby is missing. Topside. Alcatraz #301. Willy One Arm took her during the escape attempt. Last seen outside the Williamses’ house.
“What direction did he go?” My father leans in the door to ask me.
“Toward the cell house,” I say through the dull throbbing of my head.
“North toward the cell house,” my father reports into the phone.
“Take me. I have to find him.” Piper lunges toward my father. She hangs on him as if her weight will sway him.
My father tries to unwind her hand from his arm. “Honey, I think it’s better if you—”
“NO,” Piper shouts. “HE’S NOT YOUR BROTHER.”
“Calm down,” my father barks.
“Moose and I will go.” Piper’s voice is as tough as my dad’s.
“We’ll all go,” Annie suggests.
“We on lockdown?” my father asks into the phone.
“Annie, you stay put, you understand me? You’re in charge down here,” my father orders. And then into the receiver he shouts: “Send the truck!”
A crowd has formed around us. “All residents, stay in your apartments please. All residents,” Bomini commands.
“Theresa, Jimmy, Annie, Janet, you stay right here, you understand me?” My father’s voice is so tough, I almost don’t recognize it.
He looks at Piper. “You’re going up top,” he tells her. “Moose, I want Ollie to see your head. Nat, you’re with me. We’re going to go find your mom.” He squeezes her hand—a quick squeeze, all that Nat can tolerate. “What a trooper you are,” he whispers to her, his voice breaking.
“Natalie is a trooper,” she repeats, her whole face glowing.
When the truck appears out of the smoky fog with Trixle in the driver’s seat, we pile into the cab. The door shuts and my dad hops on the running board.
“Got the whole island looking for him now. We’ll find him. Don’t you worry,” my dad tells Piper, who is seated by the window. The truck lurches forward straining as it heaves up the steep hill.
When we get to the top, the warden is there. He wobbles toward the truck door, opens it with trembling hands, and Piper falls into his arms. “Oh my girl. My little girl.” His voice is so choked, he can barely speak.
“The baby, Daddy,” Piper cries. “The baby.”
“Baby.” Nat digs her chin deep down in her collarbone.
The warden nods, his eyes dazed like he can’t quite figure out what is going on. “We’ll find him,” he says, but it doesn’t sound as if he believes this.
He keeps his arm around Piper, holding her, protecting her, keeping her safe, as guards fan out all around, spilling out of everywhere. Searching. More guards than I even knew we had.
In the hustle and chaos, the sweep of the big spotlights from the guard tower, the bullhorn commands, I shadow my dad, sticking close like I’m a kid again. Mr. Bomini directs foot traffic and relays the warden’s orders through his bullhorn. Doc Ollie is half running to the warden’s house.
My father turns to me. “There’s Ollie. Let’s get you two inside,” he says.
But when I look around, there is only me.