by Mark Pepper
She closed her eyes to begin practising, but her lids had barely touched when they opened again – wide. Something fantastic had registered. Something unbelievable. Something in the shadow beneath the driver’s seat.
Her father’s holstered Walther P99.
Obediently settling cross-legged to listen, John suddenly became aware of how in the midst of death he was. Not just now, in this cemetery, but ever since touching down at LAX. With the exception of Virginia, he had not encountered anyone who wasn’t dead, dying, responsible for the death of others, or fearful of their own violent death. Hayley had probably brought him here to announce she thought he was the Grim Reaper incarnate, cutting a swathe through the city.
‘Okay, John. Now … I don’t want to hear a word until I’m done. I mean it. Don’t even tut, roll your eyes or shake your head.’
‘Wait a minute,’ he said. He checked nobody was near, then took the concealed .45 from his waist and hid it under a knee. ‘That’s better, I couldn’t breathe.’
‘What is that for?’ Hayley asked, displeased.
‘Your Larry may not be the brightest bulb in the hallway, but if he knows about this place he may turn up. Does he?’
Hayley nodded. ‘But he’s never been here before.’
‘Has he ever been this keen to find you?’
She acquiesced with a shrug.
‘Okay, let’s hear it,’ he said.
Hayley glanced meaningfully at the headstone once more, and began.
‘I’m gonna list the facts as you’ve told them to me, John, like a lawyer in a courtroom. First off, there’s grandpa building his cabin, waiting all that time for the one. There’s the word vision on the calendar, the days crossed off. Then you arrive, he gives you my picture and tells you to keep it safe, no matter what. After that, he believes he has no reason to live, which means he’d been staying alive for you, John, for your visit. As you grow up, you actually do what he says. You take my picture everywhere with you. When you think about it, that’s incredible. Kids don’t do that. Kids lose things, or they get torn, neglected. But you keep it safe, like a part of you knows how precious it is, and what significance it might have for the future.’
John was impressed by his willpower. How he didn’t interrupt was a mystery in itself.
‘You join the army. You go to the Persian Gulf and meet Donnie Chester. Years later and his death links you to Dodge. You decide to take a road trip to Oregon. Miraculously, you manage to locate the ghost town where you met Grandpa Chuck. Not only that, but you find his cabin and his personal effects, among them a letter from Dodge. I mean, hello, is this becoming a little bizarre or what? So you confront Dodge with the goods and he opens up to you about his past. You, a complete stranger; the first person in over forty years he talks to. Next, you track down my mom, and you told me how oddly she kept looking at you. Then you meet me and you wind up taking care of me, protecting me. You kiss me, you can’t help it, but you don’t know why. You admit to an obsession with Vietnam and to feeling at home in the States after years of wanderlust. John … need I say more?’
‘Yeah, you better had. I have no idea where this is leading.’
‘Okay, what about the bust-up with your parents? You understand now why that had to happen?’
‘Nope.’
‘It was karma. You had to be released from them to follow your true path in life, to join the Foreign Legion so you could meet Donnie and the people who matter to you on a spiritual level, not a biological one.’
John found his eyes wanting to roll manically. He fixed them on a single blade of grass as a counter-measure.
‘You are truly blessed, John. Most people never break those constraints.’
She left a long enough pause that John thought he should respond.
‘Karma?’ he asked.
‘Yes, thank you,’ Hayley said gently.
‘No, I meant … what you said. With a kay not a cee.’
‘Oh.’
‘I don’t believe in karma.’
‘You don’t need to, John. It exists whether you believe in it or not.’
He took a deep breath. She was really starting to bug.
‘Tell me how you feel,’ she asked.
‘About what?’
‘Everything. Weren’t you listening?’
He smiled crookedly. ‘Well, none of it’s news, is it? As you said, it’s all stuff I told you.’
‘But I bet you never put it all together; heard it in one big lump before?’
John scowled. ‘Why do I get the feeling you’re about to add two and two and make twenty-two?’
Hayley became instantly peeved. She blew theatrically through her gapped front teeth like a Prima Donna ignored at the stage door, and began nearly screaming.
‘God, you are so closed! Can’t you see it? It’s as clear as day! It’s staring you in the face! Look!’ She pointed to the gravestone. ‘There!’
From Angelo Drive onto Briarwood, all the way down North Beverly Glen Boulevard onto Sunset Boulevard to skirt the northern perimeter of the UCLA campus, Larry drove in a manner befitting his mental state. He barreled along, overtaking, undertaking, and paying no attention to red lights or rich folk out for a cruise. A Ferrari leaving the grounds of the Bel-Air Country Club narrowly escaped a visit to the body shop. Larry knew his behavior was likely to attract unwanted attention, but any traffic cop who tried to cite him for a moving violation would have his own movement terminally violated. All he cared about was getting to Hayley as fast as possible.
At the north-west corner of the campus he took a screeching left onto Veteran Avenue before immediately reducing his speed. The cemetery was coming up and he didn’t want to alert Hayley’s English minder, who he had to assume was still armed. He gave another quick glance behind between the seats, and reckoned his hostage had not minutely altered her position. She hadn’t moaned for over five minutes either. It didn’t look good. Then again, what did? And so what if she was dead? Years from now, when all his appeals had failed and they finally strapped him to the gurney and hooked up the IV, what would they do? Double-dose his lethal injection?
He slowed and edged into the curb. The rows of white stones made him shiver. He couldn’t spot Hayley, but perhaps she was one of the more distant figures he could see. Getting a fix on her was essential. If he didn’t, they could leave from one end of the cemetery while he was still wandering around the opposite end. To make that less likely he needed to cover the widest area possible from one vantage point. He moved off and stopped the Jeep further along. He vaguely noted the brand new red Audi parked nearby, and he thought of his own treasured Corvette, a pleasure extinct to him now. It was his own stupid fault, but knowing it did not provoke any self-recrimination, it only made him want to kill someone else. There was nothing left apart from that. He looked back at the body behind him on the floor.
‘Hey, bitch, wake up.’
She didn’t stir so he jabbed a punch at her ribs, but there was still no reaction. He knew the effects of the stun-gun would have largely worn off by now, which meant her tourniquet hadn’t worked so well. It seemed she had lost too much blood and passed out. She was in dire need of medical treatment.
‘Ah, fucking bleed out,’ Larry said, facing front. He put on his Raiders cap and sunglasses and set his eyes to the task of visually sweeping the cemetery, trying to ignore the possibility that he was wrong, that Hayley and friend were in some bar in the village. He decided to give it a few minutes, then take a meandering walk among the stones. Perhaps he would stumble across them both kneeling in quiet remembrance. If not, he would have to embark upon a systematic search of Westwood’s watering holes and restaurants. He removed the two handguns from where he had stashed them under his thighs for easy access in case of a police traffic stop.
Before he got out, a realization dawned. Although he couldn’t remember a conscious decision, somewhere between the hills and the cemetery he had made up his mind. Of the two options open to him, apologi
zing to Hayley was not his preferred choice.
‘Harold T Olsen,’ John read out loud from the headstone. ‘Medal of Honor, Sergeant, US Army, Vietnam, June nineteen forty-four to November nineteen sixty-nine.’
He screwed up his eyes, trying to appear more ponderous than he felt; after her last reprimand he didn’t want to be accused of glibness. But the truth was that he found this particular inscription no more or less sad than any other. Thousands were buried here. The only difference was his knowing a little of Harry Olsen’s history.
Hayley’s expression was a mix of cranky and desperate. She was obviously waiting for his eureka, so he read it all again to himself, slowly, like a child having difficulty with a math sum.
‘Well?’ Hayley said.
John abandoned his false effort. ‘Sorry if I’m being thick, but I don’t know what on earth you want me to say.’
Her frustration had her teetering on the brink of another outburst, then she closed her eyes and seemed to employ some yogic breathing technique. After a few seconds she looked at him and smiled, but John doubted the serenity went very deep.
‘Okay, John ... okay … answer me this: in conversation today, have you mentioned how old you are?’
John thought back. He had crammed practically his entire life story into the journey from the hospital to Beverly Glen that morning, but he couldn’t recall giving his age. There hadn’t been any reason to.
‘Don’t think so,’ he said.
‘You haven’t,’ she assured him. ‘So how do I know you were born in nineteen seventy? You were, weren’t you?’
He nodded, then shrugged. ‘Probably because I look my age.’
‘Because it fits, John. It fits. It all fits.’
‘Twenty-two,’ John said provocatively, deliberately attempting to rile her because she was starting to piss him off with her renewed zeal.
Hayley made a face. ‘Huh? Twenty-two?’
He smiled at her confusion and stood up, tucking the .45 back in his belt. He was adamant she would not persuade him to sit down a third time.
‘Two plus two. It’s what I knew you’d come up with. Now you either tell me why you think I’m here in the next five seconds, or I’m leaving.’
It blurted out from her like vomit.
‘Young people who die violent deaths often come back quickly.’
Her explanation had to sink in. Once it had, he gave a harsh, incredulous laugh.
‘You mean reincarnation?’
‘My father died November sixty-nine,’ she said, getting to her feet. ‘Two months before I was born. I was his only child and he never saw me. We all go around with the same people time after time, we just don’t know it. But Chuck knew it. He had a vision. He knew you were coming back to find me. Unfinished business, John, that’s what this is about.’
John stared at her, uncertain whether to be amused or horrified. Hayley must have thought he was captivated by the awesome truth.
‘You see, John, how it all makes sense? Doesn’t it feel good after all these years to finally know why it all happened?’
‘What are you saying?’ John asked.
‘John … I’m your daughter; Chuck was your father.’
After a split second to absorb this newsflash, John began cackling, and such hysterics were clearly mistaken for The Joy of Universal Understanding because Hayley, with tears streaming, went to hug him with her one good arm. But he stepped back, not even a mocking smile on his face now. What was she doing, involving him in her warped fantasies? She had jeopardized his relationship with Virginia for this crap?
‘You, my girl, are nuttier than a bucket of squirrel shit.’
Hayley’s features sagged. ‘But what about Dodge? Why did he open up to you unless some part of him knew who you really were?’
‘Because he was ready!’ John said, his frustration dictating his tone of voice. ‘Fuck’s sake. Donnie died and he flipped his lid. He was ready to talk and he talked to me precisely because I am a stranger. Don’t you have the Samaritans over here? It’s the same principle.’
‘What about my mom?’ Hayley asked weakly.
‘What about her?’
‘The way she was looking at you.’
‘No idea. Squirrel shit, I expect.’
Some impulse made her try to hug him again, and John retreated further.
‘I’m not your fucking dad, Hayley! Okay? Jesus … get some help.’
He turned and walked away, and she didn’t bother chasing after him.
It was a good thing Larry had told her to wake up first. Had he simply punched her without notice, Virginia thought the shock alone would have made her squeak or jolt or both. After that, she decided to keep her eyes open. If his feet moved it might indicate him turning round to punch again, and she would have a vital couple of seconds to steel herself. More than that, the sight of the nine mil under the seat gave her hope. Perhaps she could save the LAPD SWAT budget the expenditure of at least one round. In an ideal world where she wasn’t lying on her arms, she might have been able to empty the clip up through his ass to blow out the top of his skull.
‘Peek-a-boo, I see you,’ Larry whispered, interrupting her daydream and nearly stopping her heart. She tensed, awaiting his punishment for her deception, but his feet had not shifted and Virginia guessed his focus was outside the vehicle. He had found what he came for, and she was overwhelmed by a selfish relief when he got out. The sudden absence of evil was palpable, like a malignant tumor had been excised. But if she didn’t move fast, someone else would be struck down and that someone could be John. She shifted awkwardly to free her arms and immediately loosened the tourniquet, letting fresh blood flush her limb to prevent the onset of necrosis. The wound was not haemorrhaging so badly, so she let it be, leaving the silk loose. Staying low in case Larry glanced back at the Jeep, she reached under the driver’s seat and grabbed the holstered Walther. She pulled it out and checked the magazine and could barely contain her tears – empty. She pulled back the slide, praying that her father had left a round in the chamber. She was an excellent shot. Carefully placed, one bullet would be enough.
‘No!’
How much time did she have to formulate an alternative plan, if she could even think of one? She peeked over the window to see where Larry was in relation to John and Hayley and just caught the bastard stealing some flowers from a grave. She could see her own blood on his shirt and the two guns tucked down his waist, and then they vanished behind the spray of mixed blooms. Looking past him further into the cemetery she spotted his targets, who were too concerned with each other to notice Larry, now slowly walking along the main path towards them. John was standing up talking to Hayley, the cause of this whole damned mess. Even from a distance their body-language suggested some kind of disagreement. Suddenly, John threw his arms up and backed away from her and started hurriedly towards the same path Larry was on, prompting Larry to veer off and kneel at a stranger’s grave.
Seeing that he was laying an ambush, Virginia became frantic. She could think of only one drastic solution. Larry had left the keys in the ignition. She would have to get behind the wheel, crash through the fence and aim the Jeep straight for him. If she missed, she would have at least alerted John to the danger. The ghastly thought of driving over graves and destroying headstones was relegated by her desire to save the man she loved. She crawled out from the back and opened the driver’s door to climb in.
As she did, a metallic rattling made her halt. It was a sound she knew well, and right now she believed it was heaven-sent. Holding her breath, she looked in the door compartment and saw them: a handful of nine millimeter rounds.
John would never forget this day. Walking briskly, he kept shaking his head, trying to negate what Hayley had said. Although he believed it was utter nonsense, she had not entirely failed to get through. By merely saying it she had planted a seed. He didn’t expect it would germinate if he lived to be a hundred, but it would always be there.
Eager for a qui
ck getaway from all this insanity, he took the car keys from his pocket, hooking a finger through the metal loop that connected the key to the alarm fob. Nearing the street, he passed a man in a baseball cap who was laying some flowers, but paid him no heed.
It was the woman making an ungainly dash along the sidewalk towards the gate who stopped him in his tracks.
‘Virginia?’ he said to himself.
She was limping badly, her right leg crimson from the knee down, a frenzied look on her face and a semi-automatic in her hand. The Grand Cherokee was parked just along the street, but there was no sign of either Dodge or Marie. Virginia pushed through the gate, gesticulating wildly and silently, and John understood the threat was immediate and close by – the man in the baseball cap.
John grabbed the .45 from his belt and began to spin round but Virginia had already screamed his name out loud and John realized he would be too late.
He was bringing the barrel up when Larry opened fire.
All Virginia’s emotions bar one demanded she look to John. Her strength of love for this man was out of all proportion to the time they had known each other, and now he had taken a hit. Larry had got his shot off before John, and his aim had been true. Her boyfriend jerked with the impact, dropped his weapon and sunk to his knees. Had she taken her eye off Larry for even a second, he would have swung round and shot her before she had a chance to reacquire him.
But her hatred for Larry at that moment was greater than her love for John. She kept the bead on his heart and squeezed the trigger.
After an instant of stunned horror, Hayley began running, an agonized wail trailing from her mouth. She ran not from danger but into it. She felt possessed, all concern for her own safety gone. She believed she had just watched the man she had come to hate kill the man she had loved all her life, just yards from the spot where the bones of his old life lay buried. The pain was too intense to allow any rational thought. She only knew that Larry had to die for what he had done and she would use her bare hands to make it happen, and if a bullet from his gun meant she failed to close the gap in time then she would at least be with John in Heaven. It really didn’t matter; Hell would always be waiting for Larry whoever dispatched him there.