The Dark Trail

by Will Mosley

  The cacophonous roar blew out the windows and threw Tanner's body and Greg Hart's corpse into the refrigerator wall, singeing clothes and skin with an instant char.

  Though the explosion temporarily sucked all oxygen from the room, extinguishing the flame in a second, the curtains that covered the shattered kitchen window still burned – the first thing Tanner noticed upon shaking off the delirium. The second thing was only noticeable as his hearing faded back in: spine numbing screams. To his left, a surreal effigy, Lee Garay was a frantic ball of fire, beating back flames, vainly wiping at his molten polyester shirt from his skin.

  In the living room, two women joined Lee's painful screams and a little girl whimpered, repeating the question, “Daddy?” as if not really understanding why her father would not respond.

  Tanner loosened his jacket from his arms and rushed his father, wrapping him up and dousing the flames, holding his dad gently as the man laid his head on his son's shoulder with ear piercing scream's only inches away from Tanner's ear, a sound that drowned out the approaching sirens. There was no need to whisper comfort to his father because professionals with more experience than he were nearby and his father's suffering would fortunately end soon.

  “Just hold on, dad. Everything thing will be fine.” He whispered. “I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. I should have stayed where I was. I should have never left the –,” Tanner's paused as a new revelation and new memories seeped into his consciousness, “mining camp? Heather?”

  Epilogue

  At 4:54 am, his phone vibrated against the glass side table and woke him. After reading the message, Kaiser Marchment would not be able to easily slip back into slumber and would lay watching the blades of the ceiling fan give chase until 6:00 am.

  “HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY, SON!!! BRING THE KIDS OVER AND LETS COOKOUT!!!”

  The message looked as loud as a billboard announcing half price cars at Crazy Eddie's Auto Sales and the ambiguity made him sick. There was no doubt that the boys parked down the street in that conspicuous Chevy Tahoe got the message and were thinking the same thing.

  He tried thinking about work, even sex with Jenny, whose legs would be sealed and whose iron crotched panties bore the inscription 'PMS' for at least two more days. Neither helped, and because of the increased time spent 'working' at work, that was all Kaiser had.

  The idea that the Assistant to the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency sent messages to his children about get togethers was akin to Satan and God – chums to the end – going on fishing trips. He knew that this message was not sent to his brother Kendal, but the boys outside didn't know that. Maybe they did? Who gives a shit?

  Something had slipped into his mind after all. The words to the instrumental version of the old M.A.S.H theme song.

  Suicide is painless

  It brings on many changes

  and I can take or leave it if I please

  Why that song? Why now?

  Curiosity took him to search for that theme song one afternoon after watching a rerun of the M.A.S.H series and the credits listed that song by name. Curiosity, in its own perverse way, wondered, “How painless?” Surely, it was only curiosity and not a regular thought by Kaiser. Curiosity was stupid, after all. Curiosity was a wanted felon and had murdered someone’s cat! What rationale lay in its twisted existence?

  There was Jenny to protect – and to love. Neither of which could continue if a certain someone had followed curiosity to its end. Kaiser had life insurance, but suicide voided that contract and she'd end up a broke and pissed off widow.

  There was the agency and an administration to protect. The thought sent chills through his arms and nausea to his gut. People were watching him all the time and would not let up until they knew what he knew – which was not possible. Upon revelation of his special knowledge suicide wouldn't be needed – he'd be murdered, and Jenny wouldn't get a dime because they'd take her too, since husband's often take their work home to their wives.

  Suicide is painless...

  How the hell did Johnny Mandel and Michael Altman know this? Kaiser thought. They write songs all day! No one asks them to guard a nation – to protect a sitting President!

  Jenny stirred in bed, rolling over to face Kaiser. After a few seconds her eyes creaked opened and a warm crescent bent her crimson lips.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  “You're thinking too loud, Kaiser.”

  “Is that what woke you?”

  “Yes. Actually, it is – the crackling of the neurons, the smoke,”

  “Thanks, Jeff Foxworthy. You wanna go over mom and dad's?”

  Jenny rolled away from him, her body taut. “No.”

  “Well, he's asking me to come over –,”

  “I thought we were going to look at that couch?”

  Kaiser chuckled condescendingly, slapped his forehead and spoke flat. “Yes. I cannot believe I nearly forgot. I'm not showing it outwardly, but my excitement is pushing me toward a back flip pretty soon.”

  “Hush, Kaiser! You said you liked it. That's the only reason I mentioned it.”

  “It's nice hon, okay? I didn't plan on making a day of visiting this damn couch! This is still the courtship phase, right? No dinner and movie?”

  “Just a look, Kaiser. Geez. Exaggerate much?”

  “Then, you go on,” Kaiser got up from the bed, then dropped to the floor and began a push-up regimen.

  “Not without you. I'm not going by myself and have the salesman talk me into something else,”

  “Fine.” Kaiser huffed.

  “... and you would be mad and we don't see enough of each other as it is to always be mad.”

  “Spectacular, hon. I'm going to dad's when I finish. Take the Sierra and have the people there load it up –,”

  Jenny sat up in bed and leaned over the side to watch Kaiser on the floor, her brown hair purposely cascading onto his back. “I'll just go with you, then. We can go look at the couch after. You won't be long, will you? At your dad's?”

  “Don't know. Probably. Just go already –,”

  “Just – just don't take too long with him, okay? Talk about whatever you need to talk about, then we'll go, okay? I'm getting all excited!”

  “Over a couch?” Kaiser asked the floor.

  Kaiser and Jennifer Marchment arrived at his parent's home ten minutes after 8 am. Harris, wide eyed, in a blue suit with Republican red tie, anxiously met them at the door, clasped and released his son's hand, and gave Jenny a hug and an inappropriately long kiss on the cheek. Millecent Marchment greeted the two from the kitchen and quickly hurried back to something that was sizzling on the stove.

  “Come in, you two!” Harris said. “Jenny, Milly's in the kitchen working on breakfast. You want to go show her how to make your fabulous omelets?” He smiled and nudged her with his elbow.

  Jenny politely grinned, nodded and reluctantly left the two men, turning once to Kaiser and tapped her watch. He nodded and she disappeared.

  Harris closed the front door after Jenny and Kaiser entered, but reached back to the sidelight curtain to peek through.

  “What?” Kaiser asked. “You expecting –,”

  “Wanna drink, son?” Harris interrupted and pointed upstairs.

  Harris's office looked and smelled like an office that a former president might have. Fine wood desk, shelves, floor, polished brass, the rich, sweet aroma of cigar smoke and its gently wafting haze, and an entire bar stocked with fine, brown liquor in containers different from their originals – all exact and clean.

  Kaiser sat in a simple chair in front of his father's desk while Harris went to the bar. “You know, sitting here reminds me of when you used to scold me back in high school.”

  “I'm taking a Scotch.” Harris seemed to ignore him and held the decanter up as if to offer Kaiser the same.

  “No. Crown if you have it.”

  “I've got Jack?”

  “Jack's fine.”

  Harris poured
the two drinks, walked to his desk chair and sat both tumblers in front of him. Kaiser frowned and reached for his glass, but Harris motioned for him to get up and come to his side of the desk. As Kaiser got up and walked around, Harris removed an ashtray, a cigar and a Zippo from his desk drawer.

  “A bit early for that, don't you think?”

  “Nonsense.”

  From another drawer, Harris took two pens and two yellow, Post-It not pads and laid one of each in front of Kaiser. Kaiser again frowned, but released the facial tension after realizing that it was impossible to keep secrets from his father while working as one of his hundreds of subordinates. Harris took his pen and scribbled words on the Post-It pad, put the cigar to his lips and lit it. Kaiser read the pad.

  BEING WATCHED. HOUSE PROBABLY WIRED. TAHOE OUTSIDE. BEEN THERE FOR 2 WEEKS.

  As soon as he read it, Harris yanked the top note off and put the end of his cigar to it. After a second, the paper caught fire and Harris laid it in the ashtray as the flames engulfed it, then died out. Kaiser took the pad and scribbled his own words:

  ME TOO. DO THEY HAVE EARS ON?

  Harris wrote back:

  YES. WE NEED CONVERSATION NOW.

  Harris took both messages, sat them in the ashtray and set them ablaze.

  “So, dad, you mentioned a cookout.” Kaiser wrote:

  WHY INVESTIGATION?

  “Yes, I did. Would you and Jenny be interested?” Harris wrote:

  CAUSE OF YOU!!! CONGRESSIONAL INVESTIGATION OF THE ESSEX PROGRAM. OUR INTERNAL RELATION MUST HAVE SPARKED THIS.

  “Sounds fine. We have to go look at a couch later.”

  INVESTIGATION OF ESSEX? DAMNED LIBERALS!

  “Oh really? What kind?”

  NOT LIBERALS. INVESTIGATING STUART HUNT'S CONNECTION WITH ESSEX AND SHOCK AND AWE?

  Kaiser furrowed his brow at his father. Harris nodded and said, “I only hope you choose leather.” Then wrote:

  I NEED TO KNOW EVERYTHING YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS ESSEX, PROJECT TROJAN AND HOW INVOLVED STUART HUNT WAS IN THIS. I FOUND NOTHING. EVERYTHING'S BLACKED OUT ON THIS.

  Kaiser could not help but chuckle at his father's chosen terminology, as if at some intimate knowledge. He took the collected Post-It notes, placed them in the ash tray and Harris lit them. “Of course leather, dad.”

  FINE. NOT HERE. NOT LIKE THIS.

  “Taut leather stays clean and looks nice.”

  HOW MUCH DO YOU KNOW?

  “Jenny likes that. That's something I might consider.” Kaiser turned his mouth up in a dour grin.

  EVERYTHING. IT WAS – IS MY BABY.

  “Good. Smart girl. So, what about the cookout? The usual suspects – Hotdogs? Hamburgers?”

  IS? THIS IS MANY YEARS OLD! WHO AUTHORIZED THIS WITHOUT MY CONSENT? THE DIRECTOR?

  “Both, dad. We'll pick up the condiments. Maybe a steak.”

  NOT DIR. BUT HE KNEW – DIDN'T WANT YOU INVOLVED. WANTED SOMEONE NEW – A FALL GUY MAYBE. I WAS NEW BACK THEN AND I HAD A JOB TO DO.

  “Make sure you pick up one for me too.”

  WHAT JOB COULD YOU HAVE DONE THAT EXCLUDED ME AND INVOLVED CONGRESSMAN HUNT?

  “Sure thing. Well, I guess we better get going then.”

  I WAS TOLD WE NEEDED TO GET INTO IRAQ. ONLY WAY WAS TO FIND NUKES. U.S. AND U.N. INSPECTORS COULD NOT FIND ANY NUKES – ONLY CHEM AND BIO. NOT ENOUGH. HAD TO BE NUKES TO INVADE. WMD's

  “I'll see you guys later! Bring back some grandkids while you're at it!”

  I READ THE REPORT! I KNOW WE DIDN'T FIND ANYTHING! SO WHAT?

  “Funny dad. Maybe soon, when we both find time.”

  SADDAM WANTED NUKES TO HELP WITH HIS KURD PROBLEM. I GOT HIM NUKES.

  Harris dropped his pen, snatched the Post-It and held it close to his face. Kaiser took Harris's pad and scribbled.

  ONLY SUITCASE. ANYTHING ELSE TOO CUMBERSOME. LOL!

  His mouth hung open as he stared at his son. Forgetting to keep a conversation going, Harris picked up his pen and scribbled:

  BUT WE DIDN'T FIND ANYTHING. SADDAM DIDN'T HAVE NUCLEAR WMD'S

  Kaiser gave his father a long stare as if he were the parent educating his son, then wrote:

  I SOLD THEM TO HIM. HE HAS THEM. HE HID THEM. ESSEX, STUART HUNT HELPED.

  On the pad, Harris scribbled:

  #?

  Kaiser returned:

  50. TREASONOUS I KNOW. SEE WHY DIR. DID NOT INVOLVE YOU?

  Harris shook his head, took his tumbler and in one gulp, sucked back his scotch. As if offering a solution to the oncoming problem, Kaiser hummed the M.A.S.H. Theme song and wrote:

  SUICIDE IS PAINLESS...

  End of The Dark Trail

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