Mitchelli pulled his truck to the shoulder of the road just as it began to rain heavily. He turned on the map light to review his satellite photos. He was searching for a logging road that was four miles south of the hill he flew over several days ago. As he toggled the light on above his head, his eyes quickly shut. The haunting images of the men he decapitated shot through his mind. The pain was intense; he moved his hand to the bump on the back of his head, an injury from falling from the roof of his boat. A guitar screech pierced his ears; a load heavy metal rock song was playing over the stereo. He quickly turned the volume down and switched the light off. His actions were too late, however. The pain increased and he opened his eyes slowly, looking at the instruments on the dashboard. The blue dials and needles twisted in his mind like a kaleidoscope, and the pain in his head increased. The rainwater cascaded down the windshield and his body suddenly jerked, the headless images slashing at his brain. There was a strong metallic taste in his mouth. His vision impaired, his hands blindly searched for a water bottle while the back of his head burned with throbbing pain. Get the truck off the road, hide the truck and rest, rest is your ally. GET THE TRUCK OFF THE ROAD! As he gradually opened his eyes, pain shot through his skull. He yelled in agony.
He guzzled the water while his hands shook and he thought the unthinkable: he needed one of Dr. Rubin’s pills. Whether he liked it or not, they calmed his mind. He searched the bag on the passenger seat, intermittently opening his eyes. He found the round bottle. His right hand clenched the pill bottle as left grabbed his head seething in pain. His efforts were in vain. He drifted into a semi consciousness.
His foot slid from the brake pedal and the truck began making its way down the country road. Incapacitated, he sensed the truck’s movement but could do nothing to stop it. As the pain increased, his thoughts went to Ann and his guilt over her death. He visualized praying at her bedside in the hospital while she had lied there motionless in a coma. He moved the rosary beads through her delicate fingers one prayer at a time. Leaning back in his seat he began to pray. Then the truck came to an abrupt halt and his torso lunged forward, bouncing off the steering wheel, on to the door, and then flopping over the counsel.
He heard a woman’s voice speaking to him asking him questions. He struggled, barely opening his eyes he cried out, “Ann you were right!”
***
Mitchelli opened his eyes, surprised by his surroundings. Tan wallpaper with American bald eagles spaced every foot vertically and horizontally covered the walls. In front of the small stone fireplace with a timber mantle was a large oversized reclining chair. Pictures of a man and woman in army uniforms covered a small wooden table in the corner of the room. A bible and a first-aid kit were on a simple pine coffee table next to the couch. The container with Dr. Rubin’s pills sat on the table next to a glass of water. Mitchelli was not alarmed; his mind was at ease. He moved slightly and heard the crunch of ice; beneath his head was an ice bag covered by a towel and nested in a pillow. He wore no clothes; a white sheet lay over his body just below his chest. His shoulder bandage had been changed. He looked under the sheet and saw his hip wound was also redressed. Mounted on a steel pole, four feet above the floor an old metal fan was blowing cool air across his body. When he rolled on his side, a large yellow lab came into the room growling at him, exposing its teeth. Content to stay put for the time being, he looked at the large stainless steel scuba watch Ann had given him. It was two o’clock in the afternoon. He had slept since five a.m.
Mitchelli studied the family pictures as best he could from across the room. There were two or three large photos of a man and woman in military uniforms. The dog lay on the wood floor at the opening to the kitchen. The slightest movement by Mitchelli caused the dog to raise its ears and give off a quiet yet menacing growl. After ten minutes he heard a screen door open, the metal spring whining as it stretched open, then slamming shut. He could hear footsteps in the kitchen. Mitchelli turned his head to look into the kitchen as the dog jumped to its feet and began barking.
A woman’s voice commanded, “Madison, stand-down, quiet. You’ll wake the dead!” The dog instantly stopped barking. The woman entered and stood by her dog. Her body was muscular and somewhat broad; it shouldered her movements athletically. Her dark brown hair with silver streaks was pulled back into a small ponytail. “You had quite a night Mister, feeling any better?” She walked to Mitchelli and put her hand on his head. “You’ve cooled down. When I lugged your ass out of your truck you were burning up, babbling like a drunken eighteen-year-old recruit on his first leave from boot camp.”
“How did you find me?” Mitchelli looked into the woman’s familiar large brown eyes.
The woman smiled as she felt his forehead. “I didn’t find you, Madison did. Your truck found its way into the side of my maple tree. Madison heard that loud diesel engine clanging away and started barking, she wouldn’t shut up. No harm done, don’t worry a bit about the tree, or your fancy truck.”
The woman fussed over Mitchelli, checking the ice under his head. She gently held his eyelids open, looking at his pupils. Mitchelli noticed she wore no makeup. Her fingernails were short; no nail polish, they were the hands of a hardworking woman. Her delicate touch was comforting.
“Where is my truck?” The dog watched carefully as Mitchelli sat up.
“I drove your truck into my barn.” The woman felt the lump on the back of Mitchelli’s head, and ran her hands over the bruises on his neck and chest. “I really hid your truck in my barn. People are much nosier down here than they are in Buffalo. A strange truck parked outside my house and my neighbors would start talking, even though the closest one is two miles down the road; besides you look like you’re in big hurry to run away from someone.”
“I can’t run very far without clothes.” I can’t even run from myself.
The woman laughed, “I had to wash them. I carried many soldiers over my shoulder, but damn. You don’t look it but you’re one heavy son of bitch to lug around. I dropped you once, ok twice, and your clothes were covered with mud.” The woman rubbed ointment on Mitchelli’s bruises. “The clothes were easy to wash, but that damn Glock was covered with mud. I cleaned your leather and field stripped, cleaned, and oiled your Glock pistol. A metal Berretta was my sidearm, not Tupperware. You’d better check it out to make sure I assembled it correctly. You had six spare magazines in your cargo pants, plus the two on your rig. Who the hell is coming after you, Peter?”
“How do you know my name?”
“Are you serious? You were on the news a few nights ago, bent over your car handcuffed; a hot car and fancy woman will get a man in trouble every time. Believe me I’m not bashful, I would have gone through your wallet if I hadn’t seen ya on the tube.”
“I didn’t know I was famous. Who do I thank for taking care of me?”
“Damn, sorry. Melanie, Melanie Butaninni.” She thrust her hand towards Mitchelli to shake.
“Melanie, do you always carry strange, babbling men into your house?”
“Only when I feel like undressing them and stuffing pills down their throat, that’s how I get my thrills since my husband got blown up.”
“Afghanistan?”
“Iraq, two years ago. Damn bomb blew up his truck. It was his second tour. Both of us were lifers, professional soldiers. We used to laugh, what little time we had together. ‘Mel,’ he’d say, ‘someday we’ll leave this here army, in a body bag or drunk, then we’re going to live the high life.’ The high life, I’m still waiting. He was one brave son of bitch, damn I miss him.” She looked into Mitchelli’s eyes. “I’ve seen a lot badass men. Crazy killers in uniform and out, when I looked into your smiling eyes, I knew you weren’t going to do me no harm. No killer I’ve ever seen keeps shouting women’s names. Who’s Ann, and Angela? How many women do you have in your life? That’s probably what driving you crazy.”
“You may be right. Ann is my wife; she died several years ago. Angela let’s say she’s my friend, the
fancy woman next to my car.”
“Oh, the one that was yelling at you. Pretty girl, feisty. I respect that.”
“Melanie, present company included, I seem to be a magnet for strong willed feisty woman.”
“You feel well enough to get dressed? Your clothes and gear are in my bedroom down the hall.”
“Melanie, I…”
She quickly interrupted him. “Get your ass off my couch and get dressed.” She stood up. “I’m making meatloaf for supper. You can stay and keep me company before you leave. Be careful walking, those pills I shoved down your throat are powerful narcotics. My soldiers would pop them like candy, side effect is depression; the poor kids would end up killing themselves. I won’t look at you. Wrap that sheet around your ass and I’ll keep Maddi from taking a chunk out of your dago hide.” Mitchelli stood up, and as he started to walk he collapsed into the chair by the couch. “Jesus, I had better take your blood pressure! Don’t get up, you hear?” Butaninni quickly placed the cup on his arm and pumping rapidly, she listened carefully with the stethoscope as the air drained out of the cup. “One hundred over sixty, shit you may need to go to the hospital, doctor’s orders.”
“I haven’t eaten, I’m hypoglycemic. Do you have any juice? When my sugar gets low my blood pressure drops.”
“Man! You don’t have to explain that, I should have known. Those women really screwed you up and what they didn’t wreck, I’ll starve to death. You shouldn’t leave the house without a medical core assigned to you. I’ll get you some juice and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”
Mitchelli quickly ate, got dressed, and unloaded his machine off his truck. He checked his gear while he had daylight. As ordered by Butaninni he planned to stay for dinner. He felt obligated to Butaninni for coming to his aid and caring for him. He had to assault the hill under the cover of darkness anyway, so he had four hours to spend with Butaninni until dusk. He estimated he was within four miles from the hilltop. Using his photos and GPS, he entered coordinates for his base camp, a mile and a half from the hilltop. The distance between his base and the hilltop camp he would travel by foot.
Butaninni rang a dinner bell on the porch summoning Mitchelli to dinner. Madison met him at the screen door to the kitchen and cautiously licked his hand. Mitchelli was pleasantly stunned: Melanie Butaninni had freshened up for dinner. Showered with her hair neatly pulled back, she wore a simple olive green sundress with thin straps over her sculpted shoulders. The dress was form fitting around her thin waist, the skirt flowing just above her knees.
“How do you feel?”
“I feel great.”
“Well I’m hungry, sit your ass down, and start eating. I’m too damn tired to wrestle with your babbling tonight.” She looked at Mitchelli’s smile.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry; I’m used to speaking to the dog. We don’t get many visitors. Would you kindly be seated my good sir?”
Mitchelli sat down and couldn’t help but ponder how much a shower and dress changed her looks. Her delicate small bare feet glided across the floor, barely making a sound as she removed a pitcher of ice tea from the refrigerator and placed it on the table. She sat down across from Mitchelli at the small metal kitchen table. Her dark skin, large almond brown eyes, and full lips reminded him of his wife Ann. He didn’t realize he was staring.
“What the hell are you looking at?”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re freaken’ me out, stop staring.”
Mitchelli blinked quickly then focused on her face as he sat up in his chair. “You look so much like my wife.”
“I’d like to say you look like David, but he was a shrimp compared to you. Half your size, little German bastard, had to go get blown up. I loved him, but no way was I giving up my maiden name for no man. Pissed his parents off something fierce, but they got over it. They came to like me and left me this house when they died.” She looked Mitchelli over, head to toe. “You’re not so bad looking once you shut up and stop running off at the mouth. Do you always wear that shoulder rig, does your girlfriend mind?”
“I’ll take it off.” Mitchelli started to pull his arm through the holster.
“Stop!” She hit her hand on the table. “I’m not going to ask you why you’re down in my part of the woods; I convinced myself it’s none of my business. Since David died, I don’t care anymore what people do. I’m no dummy that shoulder rig…well the leather is like new. You haven’t worn it much. I’m guessing you’re wearing it because you feel you need it, you’re afraid of something and want to be ready. In the army, we trained to be ready; that’s what we do, train to fight. Last night you kept mumbling names, looking behind you. I’ve seen battle fatigue, posttraumatic stress syndrome, I’ve lived it. Mr. Mitchelli, you’re on the edge of a nervous breakdown. You better be ready, be vigilant, because you’re in no frickin’ shape to go tromping around the woods in the dark.”
“Vigilant! Looking over my shoulder to stay alive is killing me. I’m run out, spent. That’s why you pulled me out of my truck, and crammed those pills I hate down my throat. I started something I have to finish or people are going...to die.” Mitchelli raised his glass of iced tea and the ice clattered against the side of the glass as his hand trembled. Butaninni studied his movement.
“You stubborn dumb ass, why the hell don’t you take those pills? Your hands didn’t shake like that when you ate four hours ago. Those pills are short term; they lose their effect within hours.”
“The side effects you mentioned with your men, depression and suicide. The pills…well they affect me the same way. They solve one problem and create ten more. That’s why I don’t take them.” He ate while he was speaking. “Melanie, this is the best meatloaf.”
Butaninni choked, nearly spitting her food out of her mouth. “You sure know how to switch gears in a conversation you want to finish in a hurry. You’re something, you’re a real beaut. Ok, I put Romano cheese in the meat, like I’m making meatballs. Drove my in-laws crazy, they couldn’t figure out why they liked it so much. It’s nice to cook for someone again, I miss that.”
“You’re too damn pretty to be alone.”
“What are you waiting for? You… you’re kind of good looking. You damn hypocrite, you’ve been widowed as long I have. You stuttered like a big sissy when I asked you about your girlfriend.”
“I concede, you’re right. I am a hypocrite.”
“Damn straight.” Melanie put a fork full of meat in her mouth, “I want to be alone, I don’t need a man in my life. A man will do nothing but try to change me, tell me what to do. In the army I had my share of men who didn’t know their ass from a hole in the ground, telling me what to do. Bullshit. I had one good man, that was enough.” She stopped and took a breath as she set her fork on the table. “Did you say I was right, you are a hypocrite?”
“I did.” Mitchelli looked out the window. “It’s going to be dark soon. I have to leave.” He stood up and took his plate to the sink.
“You’re a typical, ungrateful man! I pulled your ass out of that truck and nursed you back to health and you can’t even sit with me through dessert. The first man I’ve had dinner with since getting out of the army.” Melanie jumped up and started bringing the dishes to the sink. “I’ll take care of dishes, you go run up that damn hill in the dark, which ain’t exactly normal.”
Mitchelli turned and raised his arm. “God damn it, don’t tell me I’m ungrateful! You’re wrong, I just can’t tell you, it’s hard for me.” He yelled, “GOD!” His voice thundered and the dog, afraid, ran into the living room. His muscles flexed and his face filled with color. He looked at her in disappointment. “Thank you for taking a crazy man into your house. Melanie, you save a man’s life, drive him crazy with your beauty, and kill him with your foul mouth.”
Butaninni went into a tirade, criticizing herself as well as Mitchelli. Mitchelli was captivated with her resemblance to his wife. Though their personalities were extremely different, her del
icate features did not match her gruff outspoken mannerisms. She continued, but Mitchelli’s obsessive mind focused on her eyes, lips, and shapely figure. Feeling guilty, he looked away at the floor, his eyes drawn to her delicate feet and slender legs. He shut his eyes and tried to concentrate on his objective. Get up the hill and find the camp. He thought of MacJames but his wife was on his mind, his first love. He longed to caress her. Mitchelli’s Mind Kill was at work grinding passionately away. He longed to hold Ann; touch her dark skin, kiss her full lips. He took a long sip of iced tea, hoping it would clear his head. He carried the glass to the sink.
Mind Kill- Rise of the Marauder Page 57