A Crying Shame

by William W. Johnstone

  He saw several young men on motorcycles in front of a seedy-looking bar in Laclede, the sight triggering the recall of an event that had happened long ago, north of Los Angeles, on the coastline highway. Jon grunted in the night, his memory dredging up the event....

  ... He had been aware of their presence, but not alarmed by their sight. Perhaps he should have been, but in his own way Jon was as much of a nonconformist as the bikers—except he was much neater and cleaner and probably much more intelligent.

  He had noticed them coming up fast on the lonely road. Several moved ahead of him, roaring past. Then they began their games, dangerous games on the highway. A game that could cost a driver his life. They slowed down, refusing to let him pass; they shouted obscenities at him, making profane gestures. Jon opened the slim attache case on the seat beside him and removed a .45-caliber pistol, military issue. He put the hammer at half-cock. There was a round in the chamber.

  I’ll let them make the first move.” Jon spoke to the emptiness of the automobile.

  It was not long in coming.

  What appeared to be the leader of the scummy-looking pack of bikers drifted back to cling to the door handle of the car, grinning at Jon. His teeth were rotten. Jon could not imagine what his breath must be like.

  Hello, cocksucker,” the biker shouted.

  Turn loose of the handle,” Jon said, just loud enough for the biker to hear.

  Or you’ll do what, motherfucker?”

  Jon laughed at him, then jammed on the brakes. The biker screamed as Jon cut the wheel and mashed the accelerator to the floor. The right front bumper caught the rear of the motorcycle and slammed the rider to the concrete, the bike falling on top of him, putting an abrupt halt to his screaming.

  Jon drove on, keeping an eye on his rear-view mirror. Four riders followed him. He found a turn-off and took it, heading east, into the hills. When he was reasonably certain no homes were nearby, he pulled off the road and stepped out of the car, the .45 in his right hand, the hammer at full-cock.

  The bikers roared up. Goddamn son of a bitch!” one cussed him. There wasn’t no need for what you done to Ace. We was just havin’ fun, that’s all. You don’t own the fuckin’ road. I’m gonna stomp your guts out, candyman.”

  The .45 was held pressed against Jon’s leg. When the biker swung off the saddle, Jon shot him in the center of the chest, the big slug exploding the heart. The biker was dead before he hit the ground.

  Jon swung the heavy automatic, pulling the trigger. He knocked the leg from under one rider, put a slug into the shoulder of another, and shattered the hip of the third biker.

  Then he got back into his car, calmly reloaded the clip, and drove away, leaving the three bikers screaming in the dirt. He took an alternate route back to L.A., turned in the rented car at the airport, and an hour later was on a flight back to Johannesburg. He had used a false driver’s license in renting the car; his passport was not in his own name, and he didn’t believe the bikers had enough presence of mind to be able to give his description to the authorities.

  He hadn’t thought of the incident in years.

  Jon Badon was not the type of man one wanted to anger. Ever.

  He turned around at the courthouse square in Laclede and headed back to the house. He was deep in thought, but part of him was very much alert as he drove the night-draped parish roads.

  He had noticed men—many men, at several different locations—buying gas, filling up five-gallon containers. He put it all together quickly and it spelled: Joe Ratliff.

  Well, now,” he had muttered. I shall be up early and into town to see where you good citizens go. And if you go into the swamp, I shall surely return to Despair and crawl back under the covers, wishing you all a bon voyage and good hunting, gentlemen.”

  Now he sat for a time in the quiet den of the old plantation house, alone with his musings until Linda’s voice softly cut into his period of meditation.

  Jon?”

  He smiled at her.

  You had such a serious expression on your face, darling.”

  Karl doesn’t seem to think so.” She slowly returned the smile. I don’t believe that old bed will make it through the night. My God, Jon ... they’ve been at it for hours, it seems.”

  Then I assure you, if we hear a mighty crash of a bed collapsing, Karl will simply use the floor. For once he gets in the saddle, it’s for the duration.”

  Once in the saddle . . .’” She shook her head in disbelief. What a genteel expression. Tammy had ... ah ... well, she seems to be enjoying herself immensely.”

  Oh? Has she cummed a lot?” Jon grinned.

  Linda stiffened. I really haven’t been keeping count.” The reply was frosty.

  Of course, you haven’t.”

  She was silent for a time. She drew closer to him, but still maintained some distance. Jon was conscious of having lost a few points due to his crude humor. She would have to get used to that.

  Mercenaries don’t attend mass every Sunday and then play ring-around-the-rosy, Linda.”

  I’m quite certain of that, Jon.”

  Just wanted to clear the air.”

  I’m sure you have.” She took a step closer. Have you known Karl long?”

  Years. We were legionnaires together.”

  She seemed stunned at Jon’s remark. Her expression showed that she found this difficult to believe. But he’s a world-renowned scientist!”

  His return glance was amused. He is also a warrior—of the genuine kind. And if I have to explain that I’ll be disappointed.”

  Debra had told her in confidence that Jon Badon viewed a hero as a man who won the title either in combat, or risking his life by some act of heroism. Referring to any other type of noncombatant or non-life-threatening action as heroic was, Badon thought, insulting to the real article. And a warrior was a warrior. There was only one way to earn that title, and it was not judged by men in striped shirts blowing whistles.

  Jon was quite adamant on that subject.

  Debra had told her that Jon had given thousands of dollars and many months of blood and sweat, personally risking his life many times, without monetary gain being the goal, to help starving people in Africa and to further a democratic form of government in those countries. She had concluded by wondering aloud how many civilians had given just a tenth of what Badon had given in his lifetime.

  Very few, Linda had said.

  I’ve talked with Debra about you,” Linda said. Extensively.”

  A very stimulating and enlightening topic, I’m sure,” Badon said dryly.

  You feel the words ‘hero’ and ‘warrior’ and ‘tough’ are grossly misused, don’t you?”

  Quite.”

  Do most men of your ... caliber—wrong choice of word—vocation ... feel the same?”

  A goodly number.”

  She sensed she was in an area filled with invisible danger signs. She fell silent.

  I think I’ll take Karl with me when I go into the swamp. He’ll grouse a bit, but secretly, he loves a good fight. And with Karl, one never has to worry about one’s back. He’ll stand solid.”

  She came to him, sitting in his lap, resting her head on his shoulder, her weight a warm, comforting thing to him. Tell me about Africa, Jon.”

  He sighed. I wondered when you would ask that.”

  Do you ... does it bring back too many painful memories?”

  A few. Africa,” he said, stroking the lushness of her hair. Africa is beautiful, violent, serene, savage, dirty, breath-takingly clean. Full of so much hope and so much of the most appalling, abject misery and human suffering that it is indescribable. Africa is intense enlightenment and gross ignorance. One has to personally witness and smell the suffering, and even then, when you walk away from it, you really can’t believe what you’ve seen.”

  I don’t understand that, Jon. Your statement seems full of contradictions.”

  No one understands Africa. Someone once wrote that it is always five minutes until noo
n in Africa. No ... one has to see Africa—witness it.” He took a deep breath. I have seen children, from tiny, helpless babies to teen-agers, lying by the side of the road, for what appears to be miles—is miles. They were all starving to death. Most of them too weak to cry, or to make any noise at all, except perhaps some small mewling sound. Those are the ones who are so far gone the doctors can do nothing for them ... except to let them die in some sort of peace.”

  He felt his shoulder grow wet from sudden tears. What can . . . what did you do?”

  For the most part, nothing.”

  She sensed it was hurting him to recall this, but she did not know how to stop the vocal recollection—or if she wanted it stopped.

  You just walk on past, weapon at sling, and keep your eyes on the dirty neck of the man in front of you. Look perfectly straight ahead. I have seen some of the toughest mercs in the world break down and weep, openly. I have seen some of them reach into the depths of their souls and put as many of the kids as they could out of their awful misery and agony.” Did you—?”

  Yes,” he said, before she could speak the words. A few times. I felt I was doing the right and just and moral thing at the time.”

  But where were the doctors? What happens to the money many of us send through various organizations?”

  His bark of laughter was devoid of humor and filled instead with ugliness. Forget the money; many of the so-called leaders of those nations are nothing more than despots. Ignorant savages themselves. No better or worse than Amin. The doctors? Oh ... they are across the veldt—pitifully few of them, at best—doing all they can with what they have. Which is practically nothing.

  It’s the people, Linda; they need education—to be taught how to farm, to irrigate the land, to make the best use of it, to toss aside the old ways and grasp the new. Education, that’s the key to it all, to every form of injustice and wrong in the world. It was Huxley who wrote that ‘Perhaps the most valuable result of all education is the ability to make yourself do the thing you have to do, when it ought to be done, whether you like it or not.’ ”

  She was again filled with awe at the knowledge this man of action had accumulated in his long and bloody life. And at how compassionate he was, hidden beneath his iron facade.

  Ahh!” he said disgustedly, hurling the word from his mouth. I hope to never return to Africa. I have seen enough of the world in my years. And found much of it distasteful.”

  Is there nothing any of us can do for the children?”

  Not much. Not as long as ignorance prevails in those countries, not as long as the UN is what it is: a wart on the face of perfection, filled with grandiose hypocrisy. Some of its Third World delegates actually dance and prance in the aisles like the ignorant savages they are. The UN is, in my opinion, the most useless organization ever assembled in the history of mankind.”

  Strong words, Jon.”

  But oh, so true.”

  He pulled her mouth to his while his hands roamed her body under the almost sheer nightgown. I shall have to rise early in the morning,” he told her, his mouth warm on hers.

  Then we’d better get started, hadn’t we?”

  As they walked hand in hand down the hall, Tammy wailed from the upstairs. Oh, Jesus Christ, Karl—not again!”

  Blackwell was found by some teen-agers who had just returned from smoking pot and fucking on the levee. They did not see Ralph crouched in the bushes across the road. The mortician had caught up with the editor several times, slashing him again and again, turning the man into a mass of bloody ribbons. He was about to finish Blackwell when the kids drove up and he was forced to flee and hide. Now he didn’t know what to do. For damned sure he couldn’t return to town. That left him only one option: back to the swamps. His mamma would know what to do.

  The teen-agers, when they had finished barfing and regained some control of their senses, managed to put Les in the back seat of one of the cars (right in the middle of a puddle of sticky ick) and they took him to the hospital.

  The young doctor at the emergency room tried to contact Sheriff Saucier, but the man could not be located. Blackwell regained consciousness just long enough to give Deputy Bradbury a statement; then he died.

  The young doctor looked at his surgical nurse and said, What in the name of God is going on in this parish?”

  Under her mask, the nurse blinked her curiously yellow eyes and shrugged her shoulders.

  The men of Laclede chosen by Joe to aid in his Christian crusade” were gathered at the edge of the big swamp. Sixty-odd strong, filled with determination, bacon and eggs, coffee, and more than a few with Old Taylor, Jack Daniel’s, and Jim Beam.

  Sheriff Saucier crouched in the bushes a few hundred yards away, watching the men launch their boats. He shook his head in anger and cursed in Cajun French under his breath.

  On the other side of the road, Booger Brady crouched, watching the men, including a few of his relatives. The lawman had lied; they were going to kill. What to do? Booger slipped away just as light began filtering down, spreading a faint redness from the east. He would have to tell his daddy about this. And his mamma. They were going to have to fight—like it or not.

  Jon Badon slipped back to his car and returned to Despair, undressing and slipping under the covers, pulling the sleeping warmth of Linda close to him.

  To hell with them all! he thought.

  Sheriff Saucier had returned to his car and radioed in to the LHP. They’re heading into the swamp right now,” he told dispatch. Have you heard from Colonel Jeansonne?”

  Hold on, Sheriff. Here’s a Captain Sundra now.”

  Mike? We’re preparing to move into position ... should be rolling in about ten minutes. Governor Parker gave the official orders last night to call out that Special Forces unit in Orleans Parish. Company of them. Full combat gear. Then the governor slipped back into a coma. The SF troops are getting into position now. We’re beginning to block off the edges of the swamp from the north, west, and east.”

  When?”

  Right now; doing it easy-like.”

  What about us in Fountain?”

  The trooper seemed to pause. Well,”—he hedged the question—in a way, Mike, you’re kind of on your own.”

  I don’t understand that.”

  Lieutenant Governor Pennypacker was there just before Parker went back into a coma. Pennypacker is running the show and he’s in a panic. He’d just read some book called The Devil’s Kiss—something like that ... about beasts of the Devil . . .Satan-worship... all that. It got to him in a hard way. He said, ‘If we have to sacrifice’—these are Pennypacker’s words, now, not mine, bear that in mind—one parish to save the remaining sixty-five, then so be it.’ ”

  There are only sixty-four parishes in the state!”

  Yeah, I know. So much for our lieutenant governor’s knowledge of the state of Louisiana. Anyway,”—he sighed audibly—we’re sealing off the parish at five o’clock this afternoon. That word just reached me about two minutes before you radioed in. Everybody that’s going out ... had better be out by then.”

  Captain,”—Mike glanced at his watch—that’s only eleven and a half hours away. Damn! That doesn’t give me much time.”

  I’m only following orders, Mike. You know that. If it was up to me ... well, you’d have more time.”

  I know it. Sorry I snapped.”

  Mike? Good luck.”

  Thanks. Fountain One out.”

  Sheriff Saucier rolled a sleepy president of the Fountain Parish Police Jury out of bed. He quickly explained what was going down. The man rubbed his eyes and stared in astonishment at what the man was relating to him.

  Are you serious?” he shouted. Impossible. Missing Links?”

  It’s possible, and I’m serious. The parish is being evacuated ... immediately. Get moving.”

  I . . . ah ... well ... we’ll have to call a meeting of the police jury and ... ah ... go over the facts of this ... matter.”

  Mike punched a blunt finger in
to the soft belly of the man.

  Here now, Sheriff!”

  You don’t call a goddamned thing, Lynch,” Mike told him. You just do what I tell you to do. And this, Lynch, is what you’re going to do. . . .”

  Chapter Twelve

  Thanks just the same, Mike,” Jon told him. But we’re staying. I took the man’s money, both Paul’s and Governor Parker’s—the latter, taxpaper’s money—and I gave my word I’d do a job. I’ve never broken my word on anything. I’ll do what I can just as soon as those fools clear the swamp. If they do,” he added.

  A matter of honor, Jon?”

  Perhaps.”

  I didn’t think mercenaries had any honor.”

  You don’t know mercenaries, Mike.”

  Sheriff Saucier looked hard at the man. It’s the combat, isn’t it? You love it, don’t you?”

  To be honest, yes. There is a certain ... ah ... high in combat that noncombatants do not and will never understand.”

  A high?”

  Jon nodded.

  Mike sighed. He jerked his thumb toward the great swamp, looming dark and dangerous behind the house. You could die in there.”

  That smile, quick, almost curt. But I don’t plan on doing that.”

  Going to kill them all, Jon?”

  Are you one of them, Mike? That is my plan at this time. I think we have to do that.”

  Your doctor friends don’t agree,” Mike reminded the mercenary.

  I am aware of their feelings.”

  Saucier shook his head. Governor Parker is dead. I got the word on the radio on the way out here. And I doubt he paid you in full. You owe nothing to anyone, Jon.”

  Jon shrugged. I am sorry about his death. I think he was an honorable man. As honorable as a man in politics can be, that is. As for the money ... half in advance. But I still took it, and I owe the citizens that.”