V: The V in Vigilant

Chapter 3-1

The V in Vigilant

By J.M. Snyder

Monday dawned overcast and chilly. By the time Vic Braunson got behind the wheel of his city bus, rain lashed the windshield and cold air shrieked through the slightly open window beside the driver’s seat. Visibility was nil, keeping him well below the posted speed limits as he eased the bus along its prescribed route. Other drivers zoomed by, cutting him off at times, driving as if the heavy rain didn’t bother them. More than once he saw some i***t narrowly avoid an accident. Before he’d even managed to complete one circuit of his route, the muscles in his shoulders and back had knotted up and the start of a tension headache tugged behind his eyes. Vic knew this was going to be a long day.

As he slowed in front of the bus stop outside the Shriner’s Temple on Lakeside Avenue, Vic saw a familiar sight. The man waiting for a ride was a repeat customer, and the only reason Vic recognized him out of the hundreds of others who rode the bus daily was because he was confined to a wheelchair. He was the only disabled passenger on Vic’s route, and the reason Vic took an extra fifteen minutes each morning in the yard ensuring the wheelchair lift on his bus worked before setting out for the day.

His name was Roger Ward, Private First-Class. Though he’d been discharged from the service after losing half his right leg to a land mine in Afghanistan, that was how he had introduced himself to Vic the first time he’d ever entered Vic’s bus. Roger was in his late twenties and used a manual wheelchair, pushing it up the hilly sidewalks along Lakeside to reach the bus stop before Vic arrived. If Vic saw him on the way, he’d wait at the stop, wheelchair lift already extended and engine idling. Despite his handicap, Roger kept active, and it was a rare day when Vic didn’t see him somewhere along his route.

Today Roger wore a dark, bulky jacket, unzipped to show a drab olive T-shirt beneath it. Black, fingerless gloves protected his hands from the tread on his wheels, which he gripped as he waited for the bus. A tall, willowy woman stood beside him, her large umbrella shading them both from the downpour. Auburn curls blew around her head like flames caught in the rainy breeze. Vic hadn’t seen her before. A girlfriend or wife, perhaps? Roger seemed nice enough, and had a ruggedly handsome face Vic often associated with military types. Their conversations were limited to exchanging pleasantries, and even with his telepathic ability, Vic wasn’t one to pry, so what he knew of Roger’s life boiled down to the man’s short-lived Army career. Mindful of the rainwater rushing alongside the curb, Vic guided the bus to a stop directly in front of Roger’s wheelchair and opened the door. “Hey, man,” he called out.

Roger nodded. “Vic.”

He scooted back as the wheelchair lift slid out from under the bus steps. The woman fidgeted with the handle of her umbrella, nervously watching the slim sheet of steel as it set down in front of them. “Roger,” she said, her voice lilting on the rain-soaked breeze. “I’ve got the van all day. I can take you around—”

“Molly, no.” When the lift settled to a stop, Roger wheeled onto it and gripped the railing. Molly stepped closer, trying to keep him under her umbrella, but he shook his head, adamant. “No. The bus is here. I don’t need you to drive me anywhere.”

From the pursed look on Molly’s face, Vic thought this was an old argument between them. As the lift drew level with the floor of the bus, Roger rolled his eyes at Vic. “Sisters,” he muttered under his breath. “Do you have any?”

“Used to,” Vic answered, his voice gruff. “She means well.”

“She coddles me.” Roger wheeled his chair down the aisle, positioning it into an empty space beside the door. “I may be in this chair but that doesn’t mean I can’t do things for myself, you know?”

Before Vic could answer, he noticed Molly had approached the bus door and was trying to peer inside. “Ma’am, you’ll have to step back.”

Ignoring him, she called out, “Roger—”

Her brother snapped, “Step back, Molly. He has to lower the lift.”

This time she obeyed, retreating to a safe distance and watching the lift with a wary gleam in her eye. Once it was hidden back beneath the steps, though, she clambered onboard the bus, closing her umbrella as it dripped onto the floor. “Molly,” Roger sighed. “You can’t just walk on like that. You need to pay.”

“Take this.” She thrust the umbrella into his hands, turned, then thought better of it and planted a quick kiss on the top of Roger’s head before he could object. “Call me when you get back. There’s no reason for you to traipse through this mess back to the house when I can pick you up at the stop, you hear?”

“Mol—”

“Call me,” she said again, the strength in her voice holding no room for argument.

Roger sighed, exasperated. “Fine,” he said, dropping the wet umbrella onto the floor beside his chair. “Just get off the bus already, will you? Vic has a schedule to keep. He’s probably running late now as it is, all because of you.”

At the top of the steps, Molly hesitated, unsure.

Roger shook his head. “I’ll call you. Go.”

When Molly wavered on the last step, Vic cleared his throat and rattled the door release. She took his hint and stepped down onto the sidewalk, pulling the hood of her raincoat up over her hair to keep it dry. Before she could change her mind and climb back onboard, Vic closed the doors, turning on his signal two seconds before pulling away from the curb. The city buses were notorious for barreling into traffic, and despite the weather, drivers behind Vic slowed to let him in.

Roger was the only fare on the bus at the moment. On this leg of his route, Vic never picked up many passengers in the early afternoon—there were no busy restaurants or shops on Lakeside, no businesses whose workers took the bus during lunch breaks, no colleges with students heading off campus. His bus would start getting crowded around three, when he switched over to a route that took him by the Willow Lawn shopping area, with its popular restaurant chains like Panera and Qdoba, the Kroger grocery store, and the Target nearby.

On such a dreary day, though, Vic enjoyed the quiet. The only noise was the steady squeak and thump of the windshield wipers as they worked, the purr of the engine beneath him, and the rain pelting the windows. He glanced in the mirror above his seat and wasn’t surprised to find Roger staring morosely out the window. Shadows flickered across his face, turning his features into craggy hollows. Though not unattractive, Roger always seemed alone, aloof—he kept to himself, and Molly was the first person, male or female, Vic had ever seen him interact with while on the bus. Pain and sadness gave him a haunting look, and the wheelchair must have kept many people at bay. Vic knew what it was like, being judged by an appearance. With his shaved head, multiple piercings, and penchant for tattoos, Vic wasn’t exactly poster-boy material himself. Add on a couple hundred pounds of muscle in all the right places and he became downright intimidating. Few dared look at him long enough to see through the harsh exterior he showed the world.

But he was far from alone. His lover, Matt diLorenzo, found Vic damn sexy, tattoos and all, and a day didn’t go by without Vic thanking God or Jesus, or Whoever it was up there listening to him, for bringing such an amazing man into his life. Without Matt, Vic thought he would probably have had the same sorrowful expression on his face that he saw reflected in the window on Roger’s at the moment. Before Matt came into his life, Vic wouldn’t have thought a little bit of love could make that much of a difference. Now, Vic couldn’t imagine living without it.

Hoping to take Roger’s mind off whatever dark images it dwelled upon, Vic called out, “Hey man, where you headed?”

“The Bowtie.” Roger sat up a little and gave Vic a quick grin. It banished the shadows from his face and lit up his eyes. “New movie theater on the Boulevard. You know the one?”

Vic nodded. The place hadn’t been open long—when it was still under construction a few months back, Vic had rescued a stray dog from some bullies behind one of the buildings being renovated. At the moment, said dog now lounged at a daycare facility in the West End, gobbling doggy treats and waiting for Matt to pick her up after work. Vic knew; he had dropped her off there himself before starting his shift.

Roger ran a hand through hair a shade darker than his sister’s. It hung damp from the rain, longer on his neck and ears than the army would’ve let him keep it. “I’m meeting my girl there for a matinee. I don’t care what we see, as long as the place is dark and she sits real close, you know what I mean? I couldn’t have my sister drive me there and crimp my style.”

Vic gave a surprised laugh. So much for appearances, eh?