Pitkins nodded with a sobriety that conveyed he was far from completely better. He stood with only great effort and shuffled rather than walked towards Pitkins.
“We’ll catch up on a lot soon enough. Right now, we’ve got to scoot, so don’t you dare argue with me,” Righty said, bending down and scooping Pitkins up over his shoulder.
As Righty sprinted down the hall, he said, “Oh yeah, you’re gonna have to forgive my untraditional form of transportation.”
Chapter 38
In spite of the warning, Pitkins momentarily screeched to a halt upon seeing the monstrous bird but then kept going after seeing Righty fearlessly hop on the back and place a strap over his legs.
Pitkins belted himself in, Righty let out a whistle, and off they went.
In spite of the Spicy Green he had helped himself to once he heard the pounding on the door begin, Pitkins was still partly delirious from his recent beating.
“Biggest one I’ve ever seen,” Pitkins remarked calmly, once they were at cloud level.
“Biggest what?”
“Pholung,” Pitkins said, pointing to Harold. “You might be surprised to know this isn’t my first time doing this.”
“Oh?”
“That’s a story for another day though.”
The rest of the journey was silent, which was okay with Righty. He had his mind on bed like a runner eyeing the finish line towards the end of a grueling race.
When Pitkins realized Harold was starting to lower his altitude, he said, “I’ve got something I’ve gotta ask you. And if you refuse, there’ll be no hard feelings. You’ve already done enough to indebt me for life.”
“Shoot.”
“Well . . . is there any chance you could help me go look for Donive tomorrow? Again I—”
Pitkins’ voice started to crack.
“Donive?!” Righty said, feeling like a fool and just now becoming aware of the extent of his exhaustion, having failed to mention her. “Heck, you’ll see her in about five minutes!”
“WHAT?!” Pitkins shouted with both enthusiasm and terror, something Righty attributed to a fear this was some twisted joke.
“Or three minutes, depending on how fast Harold flies,” he said, giving Harold a playful pat on the back.
“What . . . you . . . ?”
“We’ll have an awful lot to talk about tomorrow, friend. As for right now, I’ll give you the basics. We’re headed to my house. Donive’s there. Your dog’s there. You’re gonna have the happiest reunion of your life. I’m afraid I won’t be much of a host. The second I lead you to her, I’m headed to bed and plan to sleep for half a week.”
“Sleep half a century, if you want! If you speak the truth . . . .” His voice broke off. “WHOOO!!!!” he shouted with the wild enthusiasm of a teenager. “I’ll be indebted for two lifetimes!” Pitkins shouted.
“Pitkins?”
“Yeah?!” he asked enthusiastically.
“There are some things I’m going to have to tell you by tomorrow at the latest that . . . you’re not gonna like. In fact, you’re probably going to despise me. The way I see it, if I tell you now, I ruin your reunion. If I tell you tomorrow, you’ll think I’m a liar and a deceiver. I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t. So let me just ask you—do you want to know now or tomorrow?”
Pitkins’ face grew somber, and then his eyes turned into demon-like slits the likes of which Righty had never seen and didn’t particularly care to ever again.
“Was . . . how . . . is she?” he asked, the concern in his phrasing of the question revealing the unspoken questions.
“Do you want me to shoot straight and true with you? I’ll do it, but you’ve got to tell me.”
Pitkins closed his eyes for what seemed like a minute and then slowly nodded his head.
“She was tied up and as naked as the day she was born when I found her. Some fella was off in the corner hitchin’ his pants up, but I don’t know what all transpired. Don’t really care to, to be honest. But he’s a couple body parts shy of a man now, and it was with your sword that I took care of him.”
Righty could see Pitkins was seething. “But . . . Pitkins, that wasn’t what I was referring to . . . not in any way, shape, or form. What I’ve got to tell you has really nothing to do with that.”
Pitkins looked at him for a long time and then said, “You’re a drug smuggler.”
“How did you . . . ?”
“I was growing increasingly suspicious by your obsession with security. The bandit threat to your ranch was feasible but never felt quite right. While your skills with a sword gave you the tools you needed to rescue me, only a man with some significant prior combat experience could have pulled that off under pressure.
“Killing’s never easy the first time. I still remember my first battle,” Pitkins said with a shudder. “There was a saying in the Sogolian army that your first battle gives you new eyes because they’re never the same after your first kill. I’ve certainly seen an evolution in your eyes long before today,” Pitkins said looking directly at him.
“I reckon if it had been bandits trying to rob your ranch that you had killed, you wouldn’t have had any trouble telling me. So, it seems the fights you’ve been in were of a different nature.
“And then there was your reluctance to approach the day Rucifus cornered and threatened me. You arrived late that day to your lesson—first time ever. You know each other.”
“How much of this do you think you can keep to yourself?”
“Every last detail,” Pitkins said, looking him straight in the eye.
“In fact,” Pitkins continued, “I have a proposal I’d like to make that I think you’d be very interested in.”
“Oh?”
“But not now. You need your sleep, and I need my wife. We’ll talk after a good rest.”
“I like the sound of it,” Righty said sincerely.
Harold came to a stop in the woods.
“Why here?” Pitkins asked.
“Janie—my wife—doesn’t know about Harold here. I think I might like to keep it that way for a while. Truth be told, I really don’t like anyone to know about Harold,” Righty said, an edge in his voice. Pitkins nodded somberly.
“Donive knows . . . but only if she remembers. She might just as easily think she got here by horse and dreamed about flying on the back of a bird. She was out almost the whole time.”
“I’ll keep it secret until you say otherwise,” Pitkins said. “As for now . . . I just want to see my wife.”
Pitkins insisted on walking without help, though it seemed he had to concentrate to avoid stumbling over.
Moments later, they were in front of Righty’s house.
“Wait here just a moment,” Righty said.
He practically bumped heads with Janie who came running up to him and jumped through the air and into his arms.
Her hug said what words never could have. She squeezed him like he was a tree on the edge of a cliff, the only thing keeping her from falling a thousand feet into a misty ravine.
Righty hugged her back and softly caressed her back.
“Babe,” he said softly. She looked up and into his eyes with the sweetest innocence he could recall. “I’ve got someone I’d like you to meet.”
He brought her forward to Pitkins.
“Janie, this is the husband of our guest. His name is Pitkins, and he’s a very dear friend of mine.”
Janie extended her hand warmly. The sun had long since claimed full victory over darkness. The bright light of this glorious day would have seemed perfect for the beginning of a picnic or perhaps a long stroll.
But then it became clear that a beauty far more spectacular than even the radiant sun had caught Pitkins’ attention.
Janie and Righty turned. Donive was standing in the doorway, two tears streaming from the blue lakes that were her eyes.
“Pitkins!” she said with the enthusiasm of a young teenager.
They rushed into each other’s arms
like two objects hurled at one another by a fierce storm.
Righty immediately began to feel like a voyeur in the presence of such passionate kissing and hugging, and he and Janie quietly slipped away.
As he made his way upstairs, he planned an embrace just as passionate with sleep. Each step felt like a mile, but as he reached the top, he made a quick detour to Heather’s room. She was sleeping soundly, and he planted a quick kiss to her forehead.
When he reached his room, he was relieved to see the curtains all tightly drawn and only the slightest hints of light trespassing into the room. When he lay down, he felt ecstasy encompass him. Sleep now seemed to be rushing forward to meet him.
But alongside her was a monster. It was a messenger, and in his hand he had a letter informing Righty of a few discomforting facts. He had just lost a multibillionaire customer and made a bitter enemy out of one of the most powerful kingpins in the drug world, who just happened to be the sister of his right-hand man in Sivingdel; had a shadowy group of killers slicing their way through his organization; and had just taken in the biggest fugitive in all of Sodorf.
“A pessimist might be tempted to say I’ve got problems,” he whispered to himself.
Then, everything turned black, and he slept with the dead.
The End of The Infiltrators
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