Necessary Sin

by Brian W Casey

  Fuentes stood over the helpless Francis.

  “Priest you are as weak as your father.”

  Chapter 8

  Francis was roused by one of the village dogs licking the back of his neck. He tried to roll over and face the sky. His head was pounding from the blow he took from Fuentes.

  He was finally able to sit up and look around. In front of him what was once thick green vegetation and proud huts of the villagers was now charred black.

  Bodies everywhere, some still smoldering. Few of them recognizable by Francis.

  Francis looked over where he remembered Galina laying. Her body was burned beyond recognition. He only knew that was where she was supposed to be. The dog that licked his face was pawing at something laying half in a puddle of water. Francis crawled over as fast as the pain allowed. He swiped the dog away catching it across the snout.

  Wrapped in burnt blankets was Angelina. One side of her face burnt, the thick hair gone, her little arm was burnt to her shoulder. The half of her body that was laying in the water and protected by the wet blankets was as pure as it was hours ago.

  Francis pulled all the blankets from the child as the baby let out a scream of pain. Suddenly she stopped crying as if she was not going to surrender to the pain.

  The baby Angelina and Francis laid spread out together surrounded by what was once their life.

  Francis, Angelina, and the dog, the only three forms of life left in the charred jungle.

  Francis wrapped the baby in what was left of the blankets and then tended to his own body.

  He slowly raised the shirt that was stuck to his chest with dried blood and mud.

  The mud sealed the cut for now but that didn’t stop the bugs from crawling in and out of the slash. Francis felt a wave of panic and faint come over him.

  He looked over at the baby.

  Angelina returned his stare with eyes too hard for a baby.

  Francis stood up.

  Turning full circle, he could see farther than ever before. What was once obstructed with thick jungle vegetation was now a blackened open field. Nothing was left. The fire had destroyed everything along with evidence of who attacked them. The only witnesses were Francis and the baby.

  Then Francis heard them.

  Helicopters coming in from behind him.

  Francis felt relief knowing that they would be rescued. He turned to watch the two Marine attack helicopters land only yards from them. Debris flew away from the rotor wash like sawdust blown by a fan. Francis covered Angelina with his body as he watched the rotors slow to an idling speed.

  Once the dust settled Francis had a clear view of the aircrafts. The pilots in both aircrafts were staying with their machines. Out of the open side of the first chopper a man emerged dressed like the attackers from last night. Two more came out dressed the same and they immediately started scanning the ruins. Francis watched as one kicked a body to make sure the person was dead.

  It was too late for Francis to hide. Where would he go? Francis lifted the baby from the ground and held on to her careful not to press on her wounds.

  Francis watched as a person stepped from the second chopper. This person was not dressed like the other militia.

  Once out of the shadow of the chopper, Francis could tell it was Christian.

  Christian walked directly over to Francis and Angelina.

  Christian had the look of a man who just endured mental torture, his body was intact but there was no soul left. He had camouflaged backpack slung over his right shoulder.

  Francis gently transferred the baby to her father’s arms being careful of her burns.

  “Christian, what’s going on? Where have you been?

  Your wife is dead. Your baby is not far from death.”

  Tears streamed down Christians face, leaving streaks in the dirt on his face.

  Christian only responded,

  “I am sorry. I have no choice. He is still holding my son.”

  I could not save your parents or my wife, but I can save you and my children.”

  “What do you mean, what does any of this have to do with my parents?”

  Christian reached in to his shirt with his free hand and grabbed a leather cord that was around his neck. He pulled the cord out the entire length letting a wooden cross suspended at the end, hang in front of him. Francis made a desperate attempt to reach for the cross but he only swung at air. Christian turned his back on Francis and walked back to the idling choppers.

  Chapter 9

  Christian went to the farthest chopper and talked to the two men standing guard. He said something to them at the same time they looked back Francis and laughed then they boarded the helicopter. What they didn’t see was Christian pulling something out of the backpack and attaching it to the side of the chopper. Christian strolled casually back to the chopper that landed him.

  The chopper with the two men lifted off while Christian’s chopper stayed on the ground. Once the chopper climbed to what would have been the tree line it exploded in a fireball. Francis felt the heat blow back to earth as it crashed into the charred village.

  When Francis looked to the remaining helicopter he watched Christian move forward through the open door of the craft. The crack of a small caliber came from inside as the pilot slumped forward. Christian pulled the pilot and slid him out the open hatch.

  Francis could see the silhouette of man, the obvious profile of Hector moving forward and taking the pilot’s position.

  Francis and the dog watched the helicopter until it was a dot in the sky.

  Chapter 10

  One Day Later

  Francis rolled over on his side and was jolted awake by the smell of clean sheets. A navy nurse was wiping his head as he slowly regained awareness of where he was.

  “Hello Father. It is good to have you back. Glad you could rest. I’ll be right back.”

  Francis watched as she stepped out the door. When the door swung open Francis could see two MP’s stationed outside the door. The nurse returned with a Marine doctor with major rank on his lapels. He was followed by a plainclothes man dressed like a tourist.

  The doctor addressed Francis as an officer.

  “Captain, how do you feel? You gave us a scare. You’re a lucky man. The slice in your side was infected deep into your stomach. I am afraid only God pulled you through this one.

  "Captain,” looking back at the tourist dressed visitor,

  “this man needs to speak to you. But only if you feel up to it. He has five minutes no more.”

  The major turned to the nurse and gave the order.

  “Five minutes and absolutely no more.”

  The man approached the side of Francis bed.

  He introduced himself as Balifour.

  He smelled of sweat, stale cigar and sulfur like someone just struck a match. The odor immediately made Francis dislike him.

  The man leaned into Francis as if he was a long-lost family member and was going to give him a kiss as a family greeting. Francis was disliking him with each breath.

  Francis looked at the clock on the wall at the end of the bed.

  Only four more minutes with this man. Francis didn’t feel like himself. Normally he would be very tolerant of someone like this. He felt like there was a stranger living in his body controlling his attitude.

  “Captain, it is so nice to meet you in person. I had the pleasure of knowing your parents.”

  The way he said parents made Francis feel shivers through his body.

  “Your mother was such a pretty little thing. So unfortunate what they did to her. Your father on the other hand. He was a lot like you. No guts. No action.

  How does it feel Captain to know you are the one that made my job easy?”

  Francis getting more agitated looked at the clock. Three more minutes.

  “You need to leave mister. I don’t know who or what you are trying to pull.”

  “You know me. You’ve been battling me for a long time and you didn’t even k
now it did you?

  You rest, I’ll be back to check on you. You have a nice day Captain Father.”

  Francis hollered for the nurse.

  “Nurse get this man out of here.”

  “Sir, there is no one in here. The Major is out in the hall with the guard and he and I are the only two that have been in here.”

  The smell from Balifour’s presence lingered in the room.

  “Can’t you smell that stench nurse? He was just here?”

  “You were here when the Major brought him in.

  You were here…”

  “You relax sir, I’ll get the Major and we will get something to help you sleep.

  Francis realized who just visited him. He leaned over the bed rails and vomited all over the floor.

  chapter 11

  The Next Day

  Balifour walked into the room, this time unannounced.

  Francis was half asleep still feeling the effects of the pain killers mixed with sleeping aids. He was not really able to sleep. The images of the last days continued to play in his head.

  His feeling of being disconnected from himself plagued him. He tried to pray more than once but couldn’t even muster the words. It was as if he had a fight with God. He thought this must be what it is like when a spouse gives the other the silent treatment.

  “If God wants to talk, he has some apologizing to do first.”

  It was Balifour’s odor that fully awakened Francis.

  “Good morning Father. Happy to see you are awake. You look better today than yesterday."

  Balifour leaned back over Francis while at the same time unfolding a crumpled 5X7 photo.

  “I think you know this man?”

  In the picture was Christian. His hands displayed gunshot wounds in the palms. His feet were bound and it looked like one shot went through both feet. There was a blood stain in the center of the chest and his once perfect hairline was now a jagged cut that went across his forehead.

  Absent from around his neck was the leather cord and cross.

  Above Christian’s head was a sign scribbled on pages ripped from a book. When Francis looked deeper he realized they were pages from a Bible.

  “I will always win. Your God will always loose.”

  Balifour ripped the photo up, walked into the connecting bathroom and flushed it down the commode.

  Francis tried to rise out of bed but the cut across his stomach forced him back down. Balifour walked out of the room. His odor clung to Francis sheets and pillow.

  Francis frantically hit the nurses call button. He kept hitting it as if the more times he pressed it the faster help would come.

  By the time a nurse responded, Francis sheets were soaked with sweat and he was mumbling in a delirious state about a visit from the devil and a baby.

  None of the nurses could recall anyone but the Major and other nurses visiting or tending to Francis.

  Evening News, December 18, 1996

  Hector Fuentes, leader of an organization which plagued much of Brazil and a major drug dealer was sentenced to life in prison. Numerous extortion and murder charges were filed against Fuentes. The final evidence against Fuentes was the result of eyewitness testimony. Efforts to reach the governments witness or the prosecutors have not been successful.

  Part Three

  Necessary Sin

  Chapter 1

  Sunday Night, Present Day

  Tonight’s patrol was miserable. The day long rain did nothing towards cooling down the air. The air-conditioner in the jeep was constantly fogging up the windshield because of the humid night air. Lightning lit up the convenience store as Sheriff August Hawk splashed his jeep through two massive potholes at the entrance of the local “Fill and Go” gas station. The slow roll of thunder like a bowling ball down a hollow lane followed him into the store. He was after the fourth cup of coffee of the night. The jeep was still running keeping the cab cool.

  A couple of the locals were hanging around the coffee machine as if it was slot machine about to start spitting out quarters.

  Bill Colestock, owner of the diner on Main Street, was just finishing a call on his cell,

  “Okay, I did my part. I made the call. I just hope you come through for me,” snapping the aging flip phone closed.

  Surprising Bill from behind,

  “That sounds serious Bill, you okay?”

  Red faced, Bill turned to August trying to hide his surprise,

  “Good evening Sheriff, rough night out there isn't it?"

  August gave Bill a nod yes and a one finger hello to the other guys while he held a cup under the coffee spout. The guys new better than to try and engage August in conversation when he was working. August was too serious for most of them anyway. They respected him and knew if they needed him he would always be on his game.

  Running out from the convenience store, ducking like people do in rain as if that keeps them dry, Sheriff Hawk slopped most of the coffee out of the cup. He slammed the jeep door disgusted over the rain, dropped the coffee in the cup holder and wiped the sloshed coffee off his hands on to his jeans. He tossed his rain-soaked ball cap across the seat and ran his right hand back over his head. His fingers dug furrows through his hair separating his graying hair into four shallow wet rows. He kept his hair cropped short on the sides but still liked to have a little on top to prove he was not losing it like others his age.

  The two potholes splashed more coffee out as he pulled back on the highway. A flash of lightning killed the street light outside the Fill-N-Go. Thunder vibrated the loose jeep doors.

  Bill Colestock checked his watch and gave August a couple of minutes head start. He was nervous now, he came so close to blowing the whole thing. He did his part but now curiosity was getting the best of him.

  The dispatch radio in the jeep was turned off. August hated driving around with that thing squawking back at him. Most of the time it was someone complaining about a barking dog, loud music or some spouse coming home drunk. He turned the radio back on and immediately started picking up chatter from the accident site. The accident call came in while he was getting his coffee. The oily faced teenage clerk at the “Fill-N-Go” had to call him to the phone to connect him with the fire chief at the scene. August knew instinctively what to expect when he arrived at these scenes.

  Chapter 2

  August preferred his jeep over the county provided patrol car. The old jeep was a gift from a friend years ago. It was starting to show some wear just like August. The rain was dripping through the back of the canvas top. The paint job was hard to identify. It was probably red at one time. Tonight, it was brown and rust. There was an extra cake of mud on the fenders from plowing through a corn field earlier in the day. There were no lights on the jeep to identify it as a sheriff vehicle, but he did have a siren installed, which, in two years since elected sheriff, he had only used once. He often joked that he and the jeep would probably retire together. When the jeep stopped, that’s when he was going to stop.

  August was thinking to himself,

  “These late night waterlogged wrecks never have a good ending. The rain makes everything worse for everyone.”

  The jeep’s wipers stuttered across smeared grasshoppers and other assorted bugs that came to an end on his windshield during his afternoon’s patrol. Between the rain, bug streaks and oncoming traffic it wasn’t an easy night to drive even for someone who spends most of their time on the road. August took a sip from the coffee as he waited for the light to change to make the left turn east on to HW160. A car passed on his left with an expired inspection sticker. It wasn’t worth it tonight. Another sip of coffee and he was calming down a little.

  Lightning flashed followed immediately by thunder. The rain sounded like a bathroom shower on the canvas roof of the jeep.

  Another sip of coffee.

  “Nothing tastes better than coffee on a night like this,” he said out loud like someone was sitting beside him.

  He did that a lot.

  Hi
ghway 160 a Nebraska highway that is busy with farm equipment, cars and grain trucks between Watercreek and Dunbar during the day. At night, you could walk down the middle of it and not be in too much danger. For an accident to happen out here now was not good. August figured, it was probably some drunk or a teenager that just got their license and was showing off. August was hoping it wasn’t going to be the latter. Like any cop, the worse part of the job was informing the next of kin especially if it was a young person.

  As August pulled up to the accident scene, one of the volunteer firemen was standing in the middle of the road working traffic control. August’s lights hit the reflective strips on the volunteer’s turnout gear making the fireman look like a dancing neon robot waving a flare. The whole scene reflected as a mirror image back on the wet road. Red, amber and blue lights along with the white spotlights directed at the scene, gave a serious scene a carnival atmosphere.

  August pulled off to the side and could see the point where the car went off the road.

  Deep ruts were cut into the field showing a clear path to the accident. A sign giving direction to highway 75 and 160 was flattened and pointing in the opposite direction. The guardrail was peeled back like a ribbon. Slicks of black paint stretched along the rail. The rain, steaming off the road, mixed with the fragrance from the blossoming corn in the field adjacent to the road added its own earthy smell. It wasn’t a bad smell until it joined with the diesel exhaust from the trucks. Fog swirled around the feet of the first responders and hid the tires of the fire trucks making them look suspended.

  Lightning snapped.

  Stepping from the jeep August pulled a mud stained yellow slicker from a hook behind his seat and reached over to take one more sip of now cold coffee. Slicking one hand over his hair and with the other he pulled a well-worn John Deere ball cap down to eyebrow level. Walking on to the scene, he looked like a farmer from the area just stopping by out of curiosity.