Chapter 2: Backpack

...the backpack's disturbing link...

Riley turned on the six o’clock news. The lead story was captioned, “Death at Protest”. Rex must have shot the footage, because it showed him in the middle of the melee. People ran or tumbled from three grizzled men who screamed and hacked the crowd with sticks. The man whose face would be pushed into the pavement staggered before them. He held out a red backpack, his clenched fists pounding into Riley’s shoulders.

Riley jerked forward, as if struck again. He seemed to push the backpack to him, and now it lay on the floor in the other room. He blushed with shame and fear.

A man died but he was thinking about himself. He felt uneasy being associated with the protest. He’d always hoped his studies would lead to a career with the State Department. Then when 9/11 happened his thoughts turned to things more serious than travel to exotic places. He thought of working with the Department of Defense or the CIA. What would they think about the protest?

He had doubts about invading Iraq. He didn’t think it had anything to do with the attack in New York. But the drumbeat of war obscured the detail, leading the country into action no matter where. He kept those thoughts to himself. It’s what would be expected, he reasoned.

The backpack. He cursed himself for picking it up. He could buy the same thing for twenty bucks. But there it lay on the ground, either lost or discarded. He assumed the attitude of its owner. It served its purpose and wasn’t needed anymore. Or, if lost, it wasn’t valuable enough to make the effort to retrieve. He thought he could put it to use, but now it linked him to the death at the protest.

The TV news moved to other subjects, but Riley tried to conjure the dead man’s image. He saw the expanding pool of blood, his stringy brown hair, long and dirty looking. He wore jeans with holes at the knees and a brown plaid shirt. He wasn’t young; he wasn’t old. The pool of sticky red blood around his head intruded again. He couldn’t see more.

Riley turned off the TV and sat in the fading light. He wanted to talk to Mara. She probably knew more about the dead man than they could say on the air. The authorities wouldn’t release his name pending notification of next of kin. He thought of calling her. She’d probably be busy. He thought about the backpack. He decided to wait.

***

He heard light footsteps bounding up the carpeted stairs. A thud against the door preceded the scratching of a key in the lock. Mara burst into the apartment, dropping a heavy canvas bag in the hallway and running breathlessly into the front room.

“Did you see it? Did you see?” Her words competed with each other to escape her mouth. Riley imagined he could see her throat swell for the congestion.

He smiled wanly, his head resting against the back of the sofa. Yes, he told her. He had seen it.

“You were right there! He touched you. The dead guy! Look!” She popped a cassette tape into the VCR and replayed the scene in the plaza.

The footage was unedited. He saw himself standing beside Susan and then being thrust into her. His eyes grew wide with surprise then seemed to close. When they opened, they showed fear.

He saw the same look in the dead man’s eyes. He was trying to get away from something but he wouldn’t make it.

“I’ve got to get back. I wanted to show you the tape.”

“Do you know his name?”

“Not yet. He could be a homeless.”

“Do they know what happened?”

“They’re not sure. Some say the counter-protesters, some the police. City Hall’s gearing up for complaints about police brutality.”

Riley was deep in thought.

“What’s wrong, Riley?”

He left the room without a word, leaving Mara amazed at his odd behavior. When he returned, he held up the red backpack. Her jaw dropped.

“The dead man’s backpack!”

Riley nodded.

Mara brushed her brow with her hand, pushing up the brim of her blue cap.

“You have to tell the police.”

Riley nodded. His face flushed, nearly matching the color of the bag he ruefully held.



The persons and events in this story are fictitious and do not represent any living person or real event.

The next chapter will be posted February 21.