Geezer Paradise

by Robert Gannon

  "It's a palmetto hat. The old timers used to tie a palmetto leaf onto their heads to keep the sun off. I haven't seen one of them for years."

  "Howdy," the man said, as he got closer. He stuck out his hand and said, "I'm Harley Kimball."

  "I'm Barney and this is Willey." We shook hands.

  "You're the folks staying at the chickee," he said. "And you got a monkey," he said, pointing at Oscar.

  "That's Oscar," Willey said. "He's the family pet."

  "He's a cute little guy," Harley said. "And he sure can swing through those trees."

  This guy must have been spying on us for days. "Do you live around here, Harley?"

  "I don't live around here." Harley said. "I live right here"

  "You live here in the swamp?"

  "Yep, got a little grass shack just over in the jungle a bit. Been here since eighty-four. Best place in the world to live."

  "Doesn't It get a little lonely out here all by yourself?" I asked.

  "Heck, no. I get more company than I can handle since they put that blasted bike trail through here. Last night I had a couple of co-eds from U of Tampa staying with me. They're nice girls, but can those girls drink. They cleaned out my whole month's supply of booze. And then they snored like truck drivers all night long."

  "How do you survive out here?" I asked.

  "I have my social security check sent to the diner across the street. I do odd jobs for them. They buy the tools." It sounded like he had it all worked out, including the co-eds.

  I was curious. "How did you know we were staying at the chickee?" I asked.

  "Heck, I know everything that goes on around here," Harley said. "It's kinda' like my own back yard. By the way, did you folks know there was somebody snoopin' around that old Wrangler of yours? He even crawled under it at one point. Seemed kinda' suspicious to me, but I try to mind my own business. Just thought you gentlemen should know."

  They had found us! It must have been while we were waiting in the parking lot of the mall. But I knew they would be back for us. And what did they put under the Wrangler? Harley had just saved our lives.

  "Thanks for telling us about that, Harley," I said. "That information comes in handy."

  "Glad to be of help. You fellers take care of yourselves. And you too, Oscar. And come by and visit whenever you like. I'm most always home, or in and around here."

  "Thanks, Harley. Maybe we'll take you up on that," I said. I wondered if there was room enough for all four of us in that little grass shack. We waved goodbye as Harley disappeared into the jungle.

  Now what do we do?" Willey asked.

  "Let's see if we can pick up some of our things from the chickee and get out of here. We can't stay here any longer."

  We put our fishing rods into the raft and sat Oscar up front. Then we climbed in and paddled in silence toward the chickee. As we approached the last bend in the waterway before the chickee, Willey said, "Stop." We watched as a black Lincoln pulled off the bike trail and parked in front of our camp. We paddled furiously to turn the raft, and headed for the high bushes for cover. We beached the raft and crept up behind the bushes. From there we had a good view. We could see three men inside the chickee. One by one they came out and started looking around. Two of them were big, burly guys. They looked like bouncers from a seedy bar. Trailing behind them, carrying a briefcase, was Snydely, Flaherty's lawyer. Why would he bring a briefcase to kill us--unless he had a gun with a silencer in it.

  "How the hell did they find us here?" I asked. Then I realized how. "Willey, give me your cell phone." Willey handed it to me and I threw it into the water.

  "Why'd you do that?" Willey asked.

  "Because that's how they found us. Cell phones give off signals even when they're turned off. The phone towers pick up the signals and record them. The police can get those records to prove where someone was at any time of day."

  "But they're not cops," Willey said. "How did they get their hands on those records?"

  "I'm sure Senator Buckland had something to do with that."

  "Well, we can't go near the Wrangler," Willey said. "Our only way out is the raft." We climbed back into the raft and started to paddle away. No phone, no Wrangler, no place to live, we were in a tight spot.

  I said, "We'll get to a pay phone and call Mary to pick us up. But we can't stay at Mary's place, they'll be watching the park."

  Willey seemed to be thinking about that, and then he said, "I know a place where we can stay."

  "I hope it isn't another swamp."

  "No, it isn't a swamp. In fact, we'll be able to keep an eye on our houses."

  "How can we do that?"

  "Remember that tree house next to the park? The one in the back of that farm next door?"

  "You mean Thomas' farm? The old guy will call the cops on us."

  "He won't see us," Willey said. "The tree house is way in the back of his land and it's all overgrown there."

  "Where will we hide the Wrangler?"

  "What Wrangler?"

  "Oh, yeah. I forgot." We had lost the Wrangler.

  We paddled through the swamp until we reached the spot where we first entered it. Willey let the air out of the raft, then we rolled it up and hid it in the undergrowth. After that we sat around and fished. We weren't fishing for the fun of it. We were hungry. Together we pulled in three bass. One for each of us. Willey had some matches in the tackle box. In no time at all we had a nice little campfire going.

  Willey cleaned the fish and we wrapped the fillets in leaves, covered them with clay, and put them right into the fire. I asked Willey how we would know when they were done. He said we would know by the smell. He was right. Willey's tackle box even had some paper packets of salt he had pilfered from restaurants for just this purpose. The fish was delicious, even Oscar liked it.

  "Were you a Boy Scout when you were a kid?" I asked.

  "Nope, I'm just a cracker. We forgot more about surviving in the wild than the Boy Scouts ever knew."

  As darkness fell we prepared to move on. We sort of knew how far we had to go to find a pay phone, and what direction we had to travel, but we didn't have much loose change between us. We had to call Mary to pick us up. That meant we had to find a place to get change for a dollar. Although traffic was light we walked on the left side of the road so we could see the cars coming at us. We passed the occasional house with lights on, but no businesses. After about an hour we came upon a rustic gas station. It had two antique looking gas pumps out front with a single light bulb and a rusted tin shade hanging overhead.

  The small concrete building had been painted white sometime back in history. It was just getting dark and the grimy plate glass window emitted a weak light. At first we thought the place was closed, but then we saw some movement inside. I opened the front door and all three of us walked in. I held Oscar by the hand. An elderly man in greasy overalls sat at a battered desk that had a corner missing.

  "Didn't hear y'all pull in," the man said. Then he saw Oscar and his eyes lit up. "That's a fine looking monkey you got there. You folks with a circus or somethin'?"

  "Naw," Willey said. "We're just minding him for a friend. Do you have a payphone we could use?" The man pointed at the far wall.

  "And could you break a dollar bill for me?" Willey asked, pulling a dollar bill out of his wallet. The man opened a desk drawer, took out four quarters and handed them to Willey. Willy handed him the dollar. "Thanks much," Willey said.

  The old man looked at me and said, "I just asked about the monkey 'cause he'd make a nice addition to my attraction. Any chance I could buy him from ya?"

  "How much do you think he's worth?" Willey asked. I gave Willey a jab in the ribs.

  "We really couldn't sell him," I said. "The woman who owns him would be heartbroken." Willey let out a little snort of laughter.

  "You'd better make that call." I said. Willey shambled off in the direction of the wall phone.

  "Yes, sir," the old geezer said, "I got a nice attraction
out back for my customers passin' through. I tell them they can see the wild animals of the Florida jungles for only a buck. Folks from up north love that stuff. A monkey sure would make a nice addition." He eyed Oscar again. Oscar moved away from him.

  "The only thing better than a monkey would be a gator. But they won't let me keep a gator here . . . damn fascists." He bent over to get a better look at Oscar. "Hi little feller. How ya doin'?" He was making Oscar nervous. I looked at Willey and gave him the high-sign to hurry. I was looking at the fan belts hanging on the wall when a loud crash came from behind me. I spun around. Oscar was standing up on a table. He must have jumped up there to get away from the old guy and knocked something over.

  "Dammit!" the old guy yelled. "Now ya done it." The thing that fell on the floor was a wire cage with a sheet covering it. Something was moving under the sheet. A snake stuck its head out from underneath the sheet and slid its tongue out.

  "Eeeeeee," Oscar started screaming. I hurried over and picked him up in my arms as a second snake emerged.

  "Willey," I yelled. Willey came scrambling toward us. As he neared us a third snake made its debut.

  "I'm outt'a here," Willey said, as he made for the door.

  "Come back here an help me ketch these snakes," the old guy wailed.

  "We would," I said. "But we're in an awful hurry. Our plane leaves in forty minutes. Thanks for your help." I left, closing the door behind me. I didn't want those snakes to escape.

  "I'm gonn'a call the cops," the old man yelled at us through the filthy window. We hurried down the road and disappeared into the Florida night.

  After a while we slowed to a walk. Whenever a car was coming we would jump into the bushes and hide.

  "Mary's on her way," Willey said. "I asked her if she had some extra blankets. I told her how we had to leave everything behind."

  A police car came racing toward us with its lights flashing. We jumped into the bushes until it passed. We knew the police were looking for us. We walked on for another twenty minutes, then another car came toward us. We were headed for the bushes when Willey yelled, "That's Mary," and started waving his arms. Mary came to a stop in front of us.

  "Hurry," I said to Willey and grabbed Oscar's hand. "That police car will be back any minute looking for us." We piled into Mary's car and slammed the doors. "Go, Mary," I said. "The police are looking for us." Mary hit the gas.

  "I see you guys are having a lot of fun," Mary said.

  "I wouldn't call it fun," I said. "It's more like a nightmare."

  "Where did you get the monkey?"

  "He belonged to my cousin Opal," Willey said. "His name is Oscar."

  "High, Oscar. Does your mother know you're hanging out with a bad crowd?" Oscar smiled at the sound of his name.

  "Here comes the cruiser again," Willey said. Willey and I scrunched down low. I pulled Oscar down, too. The cruiser whipped past us with all its lights flashing, like he was chasing Bonnie and Clyde. After it passed we sat back up.

  "Thanks for coming to get us, Mary," I said. "We really appreciate it." There were blankets in the back seat. "And thanks for the blankets."

  "It's the least I can do. What have you guys found out?"

  Willey told her about Eduardo and the woman in the nursing home, and her notebook. How we took pictures of Buckland taking a bribe from Flaherty's lawyer, and how we barely escaped with our lives. How they found us in the swamp because of Willey's cell phone--and how we had to leave the Wrangler behind in the swamp.

  "Wow," Mary said. "You guys have been living dangerous. You'd better be careful. What are you going to do now?"

  Willey said, "You know that tree house on the farm next to the park?"

  "You mean Thomas' farm? You have to be kidding," Mary said. "That's too close to home. They'll be looking for you there."

  "Not if we come and go at night," Willey said. "Thomas will never know we're there, and we can keep an eye on the park."

  "Suit yourself but I'd stay far away from the park if I were you. In the meantime I'm going to leave my cell phone with you two." Then Mary asked, "Any chance of getting your Wrangler back, Barney?"

  "Maybe after a while we can go back at night and take a look at it," I said. "But we think they put a bomb under it."

  "Damn," Mary said. "Those bastards are nasty."

  We came to a gas station that was crowded with cars. "I have to get some gas," Mary said as she pulled in. We cruised through the chaos of cars that were circling in different directions looking for an open pump. There was some yelling and horn honking going on. The people in the cars looked desperate. Mary pulled into line at a pump. There were three cars ahead of us but we were still in the shortest line.

  "How come it's so crowded?" I asked.

  "The price," Mary said. "It's three cents cheaper a gallon here." The price of gas had been rising by the day. The politicians were on TV daily, wringing their hands as if they just found out that we depended on our enemies for our energy. Politicians are the type that will steal your wallet and then help you look for it.

  Mary said, "When we get to the pump, you guys stay in the car. I'll pump the gas. No sense taking any chances." I looked at the scene around us. It reminded me of a news clip I'd seen of starving people in a third world country. When the U.N. helicopter came in carrying a pallet of food, the crowd of people rushed under it. Just then the chopper let the pallet down, squashing about a half-dozen of them.

  When Mary got back into the car Willey asked her if she would take us to a shopping center so we could buy some of the things we had to leave behind in the swamp. We spent almost an hour picking up food and water. Once again we were homeless. I thought about the homeless woman in Clearwater Beach. I should have given her ten dollars instead of five.

  Chapter Eleven

  IT WAS DARK when we got Thomas' farm. "By the way," Mary said. "There's a storm coming in from the Gulf. They're saying it could turn into a hurricane. You guys won't be able to stay in the tree house if it gets bad. I go to a shelter when that happens. I don't know about the monkey, though. They might have rules about letting monkeys in."

  I had seen a few of the hurricanes they get down here. I couldn't imagine riding one of them out in a tree house.

  Willey said, I don't go to any shelters. Never have, never will."

  "Suit yourself you stubborn old goat," Mary said. "But remember, we're right on the coast here. Those hurricanes are at their strongest when they're fresh off the ocean."

  "Never mind the hurricanes," Willey said. "Have you had any luck finding a lawyer who'll go to court for us?"

  Mary shook her head. "No, when I called around all I got was a cold shoulder. I guess lawyers don't like working for free."

  Willey said, "Pull over here." We were at the tree house. Mary pulled to the side of the road and we all got out of the car. Between the three of us we were able to carry everything in one trip. The brush was as thick as Willey said it was. Soon we were standing at the base of a gnarled old tree. The trunk was about three feet in diameter. Pieces of two-by-fours were bolted to the tree trunk to form a ladder. We put our loads down and looked up at a large, black, rectangle overhead.

  "Who's going first?" I asked Willey, hoping he would volunteer.

  Willey put his foot on the lowest rung of the ladder. "When I get up there, carry up what you can and hand it to me," he said. "You'll have to make a few trips." We watched Willey climb the ladder and disappear into the darkness. Then his head reappeared. I started up with the supplies. I had to make four trips to get it all up. Then Willey and I climbed back down.

  Mary handed Willey her cell phone. "Don't lose it," she said. She disconnected the charger from the cigarette lighter. "And here's the charger. When I get another cell phone I'll call you to tell you what my new number is. Do you guys want my gun?"

  "I have a gun," I said. "You keep yours for protection. None of us are safe from these murderers."

  "Amen to that," Mary said.

  "Thanks
for the lift, Mary," Willey said.

  "And thanks for the blankets," I added.

  She hugged each of us and said, "You two be real careful and don't take any chances. You understand?" It was the first time I realized she was really worried about us.

  "Don't worry," I said. "We'll be careful." Mary simply waved goodbye and headed back to the street.

  Willey, Oscar, and I climbed up to the tree house. There was enough light coming from the street light to be able to see. The tree house was about eight by ten feet with a cut-out for a window on two sides. There was a constant breeze up there, coming in one window and out the other. It was just enough to ward off the mosquitoes. Willey turned on a pen light. There were the required beer cans, we threw them out the windows. Then we folded the blankets in half and spread them on the floor. They weren't as comfortable as the sleeping bags, but they would have to do. I was feeling somewhere between a Gypsy and a homeless person. I sat down heavily and sighed.

  "What's wrong?" Willey asked.

  "I'm tired." I groused.

  "What are you tired from?"

  "Are you kidding? I'm tired from having no place to live. I'm tired of being shot at."

  "I'm not tired," Willey said.

  "Of course you're not tired, you have monkey glands."

  I looked over at Oscar. "No offense, Oscar." I said. Oscar didn't look offended.

  Oscar seemed to like the place, maybe because it was high up in the tree tops. He kept looking out the windows. I worried if he did that in the daytime someone might see him. I'd keep an eye on him in the morning. After a while we settled down, and one by one we drifted off to sleep.

  In the morning Willey and I were looking up at what I would call a watery sunshine coming through the clouds. The sky had an eerie greenish glow to it. I put it down to the coming storm. I wished we had a transistor radio so we could keep track of it. The last thing I wanted was to be caught up in a tree house during a hurricane. We shared some crackers and pretzels for breakfast. After we ate I said, "Willey, call Eduardo and tell him where we are. And be sure to give him our new cell phone number. And tell him where we left the Wrangler. See if he can rescue it for us."