Dark Red And Deadly

by Frederick Zackel

  Dark Red And Deadly

  Frederick Zackel

  Frederick Zackel

  Dark Red And Deadly

  "Is there anything in your past that might embarrass the President-Elect?"

  That’s where I come in. My name is Terry Rafferty. I don’t work for the government. I work for the President-Elect. My job is to vett the nominations.

  Don’t ask me what I can do for my country.

  I’ve had to do the damnedest things already.

  * * *

  The Quint house in rainforest Hawaii was a two story spacious building along the lines of a hunting lodge. There were goats and chickens, diapers on a clothesline, a pickup truck parked beside a vegetable garden surrounded by a chicken wire fence, and a large wooden crucifix. Between the house and that crucifix was a huge, old-fashioned satellite dish antenna pointed at the heavens.

  Inside the garden a skinny gray-bearded man, stripped to the waist, was shoveling wet manure from the rear of his pickup truck atop a giant compost heap. A loaded shotgun was resting against his wheelbarrow. While he shoveled, a young pit bull terrier approached the compost pile, sniffed it, was distressed by the smell and whined to his master.

  The bearded man shooed the dog away. The dog ran off, disappeared. The bearded man kept working, then looked up at the arrival of a rented car.

  The rental car coming up the drive slammed on the brakes and stopped in front of some peacocks who stood in its path screaming like somebody wide-awake during major surgery.

  Terry Rafferty slowly pulled around the peacocks to the Quint family home. He was a tall, wiry redhead in his early forties. His sunroof was opened.

  The bearded man jumped his fence with his shotgun and ran across the yard towards Rafferty who had already parked and left his car.

  Rafferty said, "Jeremiah Quint? Aloha!"

  Jeremiah Quint said, "It is the wicked who with hands and words invite death, who consider it a friend, and pine for it, and made a covenant with death, because they deserve to be its possession."

  Rafferty was puzzled by that.

  Jeremiah Quint told Rafferty, "Stay inside your car!"

  Two pit bull terriers came loping around the house towards Rafferty. The younger, smaller dog barked at Rafferty, while the older dog walked stiff-legged towards Rafferty, growling, with bared teeth and a menacing manner.

  Rafferty moved back towards his car.

  While the smaller dog kept barking, the larger dog jumped onto the hood of Rafferty's car, his toenails scratching the finish, and started towards Rafferty.

  Rafferty got back into the car before the dog could lunge at Rafferty.

  The larger dog went up the windshield and onto the roof of the car, wanting to climb into the sunroof.

  Rafferty realized his sunroof was opened.

  The larger dog put his head partway in the sunroof, his jaws wide, his teeth apart.

  Rafferty slammed the sunroof on him, catching his throat, and Rafferty tried choking him with it.

  The larger dog struggled, one eye glaring at Rafferty, the sunroof the only obstacle keeping him back from clawing Rafferty.

  Jeremiah Quint told the dogs, "Shadrach! Abednego! Hold! Shadrach! Abednego! On the porch! Now!"

  The larger dog eased up instantly, the fight gone from his eyes. The dog pulled back sharply, pulling his muzzle out of jeopardy, and Rafferty could close the sunroof.

  The dogs made a mad dash towards the house and sat on the porch.

  Shaken, Rafferty left his car and approached Jeremiah.

  Jeremiah pointed his shotgun at Rafferty.

  "You're trespassing. And visitors aren't welcome."

  Rafferty kept walking closer, came alongside a hibiscus tree.

  Rafferty said, "Jeremiah Quint? I'm Terry Rafferty. I'm here to see Jimmy."

  An angry, fearful man, Jeremiah sighted his shotgun at Rafferty.

  "Howl, for the day of the Lord is near, as destruction from the Almighty it comes."

  "I’m Jimmy’s friend. So is Senator Kincaid."

  "When you gain a friend, first test him, and be not ready to trust him."

  "I really am his friend," Rafferty said.

  Rafferty kept approaching. Rafferty said, "I won't walk away from the barrel of that gun. This close, Jeremiah, it's called murder."

  Jeremiah blew apart the hibiscus tree.

  Rafferty flinched and reconsidered.

  "And I shall make a footstool from my enemy’s head."

  Audrey Quint, a hippie earth mother wearing a peasant blouse and a long calico skirt, approached. She was easily twenty years younger than her husband. On her hip, she had a drooling two year old in diapers.

  Audrey was friendly, almost sisterly. "Aloha! I'm Audrey Quint."

  "Aloha! I'm Terry Rafferty."

  Audrey Quint said, "I'm glad you came."

  "Audrey!" Jeremiah threatened. He tried a more reasoned approach. "There are seven things the Lord hates, and he who sows discord with his brother is one of those abominations."

  "Is that Proverbs?" Rafferty said.

  "Jeremiah, he's here to help."

  Jeremiah Quint said, "He doesn't need him."

  In answer, Audrey handed Jeremiah the baby, and suddenly he found his arms too full to carry both a baby and a shotgun. His wife took the shotgun and set it inside the pickup truck.

  Rafferty said, "Can I hear it from his own lips?"

  Jeremiah was reluctant. "Well, from now on, you park on the reflectors and toot your horn until I come and get you, understand?"

  Audrey could be patronizing. "You tell him, honey."

  Both hands full, Jeremiah Quint started walking back towards the house. Over his shoulder, he told his wife, "We can't take any chances, because you never know who it could be."

  Rafferty was puzzled by Jeremiah's words.

  Audrey Quint called to her husband, "Only nobody ever comes to see us, either." She turned and told Rafferty, "C'mon, I'll take you out to see Jimmy. He's out by Wild Banana Gulch."

  Audrey and Rafferty walked across the yard towards Audrey's new International Scout parked under the trees. The windows were tinted.

  Rafferty said, "Thank you. I appreciate this."

  Audrey brushed that aside. "I'll do anything to get out of the house."

  "How long have you been married?"

  "How long is eternity?"

  "Let me buy you both—and Jimmy—dinner tonight."

  "What kind of a meal are we talking about?"

  "Your choice. I’m on expense account."

  "It's a deal!" Audrey said.

  A retarded ten year old boy in pastel surfer shorts, white socks and no shoes, who walked delicately as a flower across the yard, came and stared at Rafferty. The boy had a dirty face and stringy long hair.

  Audrey Quint said, "That's my son. Summertime. He likes being called Summertime. He's very special."

  The boy stood on the running board of the truck and pressed his lips against the window. Audrey rolled down the window to speak to him.

  Audrey Quint told her son, "Mommy will be back soon. You take care of daddy for me, okay, baby?"

  The boy looked dubious.

  "You'll be okay," Audrey promised.

  They waved goodbye and drove off. Audrey rolled up the window and turned on the air conditioning. Summertime had left his lip print on the truck window.

  * * *

  Mad Dog Rahler and his son Lester stood face-to face on a ridge above sugar cane fields. Lester held a buck knife in one hand and was teaching his father how to play FLINCH! Mad Dog was a shirtless man in his early forties who needed a shave, a haircut and a bath. Lester was almost twenty, sunburned, and had crazy eyes.

  Lester was flexing the knif
e. "The idea, dad, is to get the other guy to flinch before you do."

  Lester leaned forward and flung the knife into the grass between his father's feet. The knife sunk midway between Mad Dog's shoes.

  Mad Dog said, "Now what?"

  Lester Rahler said, "Put your foot over the hole."

  Still unsure of the rules of the game, Mad Dog pulled the knife free, then put his foot over the hole made in the grass.

  Lester Rahler said, "Throw the knife as close to my toes as you can."

  Mad Dog hefted the knife for balance, then tossed it into the air, catching it after it turned around once in mid-air. Then he leaned forward and threw the knife.

  The knife struck an inch from Lester's bare foot and quivered from the power behind his throw.

  Lester pulled out the knife and set his foot atop the hole made in the grass. "Good shot, dad!"

  "And now it's your turn?"

  Lester sank the knife to the hilt beside his father's sandal. "From now on, as your feet get closer together, the game heats up."

  Mad Dog tugged out the knife, moved his foot closer to his other one, then tossed the knife. The knife landed a fraction of an inch from his father's other foot.

  Mad Dog was growing skeptical. "Lester—? What's to keep the other guy from sticking the knife in your foot?"

  Lester said, "You get to use the knife next."

  "How do you know when you've won?"

  "When he flinches, you win."

  Mad Dog started to laugh. "You gotta be outa your fucking mind to be playing this!"

  Lester frowned, juggling the knife. "Dad, don't say that."

  "Why don't you just stick the guy, son? It's quicker."

  "You're not trying to stick the guy!"

  Mad Dog stiffened. "Shut up, Lester!"

  "Daddy, don't tell me to shut up!"

  "Helicopters!" Mad Dog said, warning him.

  Mad Dog and Lester ran across the ridge to the trees. The growing rumble of approaching helicopters was behind them.

  Their trucks were both parked beneath the trees, and their belongings were scattered around the trucks.

  Mad Dog grabbed his portable color TV from atop his truck and threw it inside. He took out a shotgun and made sure it was loaded. Lester already had his shotgun racked and aimed at the sky.

  Two helicopters were headed their way, noisy as motorcycles without mufflers. The choppers came quickly, then passed overhead, flying off towards the mountains, both painted in bumblebee colors, the word Sheriff in white letters on either flank.

  Lester and Mad Dog watched them fly away.

  Mad Dog lowered his shotgun. "They're hitting somebody else.

  Lester Rahler said, "Dirty bastards.

  The helicopters flew away, growing smaller, their noise diminishing.

  Lester said, "Wanna play Flinch! some more?"

  Mad Dog shook his head. "The goddam Sheriff just made me flinch."

  * * *

  The helicopters flew on, following the course of a creek bed into a lush valley. Then the helicopters landed beside a sugar cane field.

  From both choppers, a dozen deputies hit the ground with automatic rifles drawn and fanned out like an army patrol, disappearing into the cane.

  Sheriff Charles Hartman followed them from one of the helicopters. He was handsome, well-built, and athletic. He wore his uniform with pride. He could be either an ex-Golden Gloves fighter or a male model.

  A deputy said, "Nothing here, Sheriff."

  Hartman was angered. "Not another ... "

  Alice Taylor, one of the helicopter pilots, left her copter and joined them. She was a beautiful woman and man-crazy. She wore aviator sunglasses, an aloha shirt, white slacks and deck shoes without socks. They entered the cane field. The cane was twice as high as a man and waved like Kansas wheat.

  They toured the garden. The stalks were fresh-cut. Batches of leaves littered the ground as if a storm had blown through. At least a hundred plants had been removed in a matter of hours.

  Alice said, "I saw it yesterday morning."

  Hartman said, "Maybe you were spotted."

  Alice said, "No."

  Hartman faced her. "Well, Alice, what else could it be?"

  * * *

  Rafferty and Audrey stood at the gulch's edge, looking down at the bottom of the gulch, at many tropical trees, a green pond held in check by a lava dam, a creek from the spillover, and a naked man in a jockstrap doing push-ups on a long flat rock.

  Audrey Quint said, "There's your boy."

  Rafferty and Audrey climbed down the gulch wall. They met with Jimmy Quint, the man in the jockstrap. He was deeply sun-burned, skinny from self deprivation, had uncombed hair and had deep-set, lost eyes. He didn't notice how undressed he was.

  Jimmy shaded his eyes. "Rafferty? Terry?"

  Rafferty said, "Hello, Jimmy. "

  Jimmy laughed. "You came to see me?" His smile weakened. "Goddam." He shook his head, amazed that anyone would visit. "Goddam." He was lost in self-thought. "Goddam!"

  Rafferty said, "How are you doing, Jimmy?"

  Jimmy thought it over. "Not bad." Then he brightened. "I got running water over there." He pointed at the pond. "It gets deep over there. I get in over there and take a bath whenever I need one."

  Rafferty and Audrey exchanged glances. The message that passed between them recognized that poor Jimmy was in a confused mental state.

  Rafferty asked, "How long have you been living like this, Jimmy?"

  Jimmy confided. "It feels like forever."

  Rafferty said, "We want to know how it's going for you. We want to know if—when—you're coming back to work."

  "I don't know. Maybe. I don't know."

  Jimmy choked up, his voice hoarse.

  Audrey watched, holding back her tears.

  * * *

  Later that day in Wild Banana Gulch, Jimmy wandered off and became silent and distant, again lost in himself, and Rafferty found that nothing he could sai could break through this new wall.

  Rafferty said, "Well, if not dinner, how about if I come back tomorrow?"

  Jimmy was lost. "Okay."

  "Do you need anything?"

  Jimmy looked around absent-mindedly. "I miss the Sports Page. I used to like reading the Sports Page."

  Rafferty promised, "I'll get you one."

  Jimmy stopped Audrey. "Don't tell my brother, Audrey, okay? He wouldn't understand." He told Rafferty, "He thinks the Bible is the only thing you should read."

  Audrey said, "I won't tell Jeremiah."

  Jimmy raised a palm. "Hey, Terry, Audrey, later, okay? Thanks for coming by."

  Jimmy and Rafferty shook hands, while Audrey took Jimmy’s hands in her and quoted from the Psalms.

  She said, "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." Then Audrey kissed Jimmy goodbye.

  Jimmy turned and left his own camp. The last sight Rafferty and Audrey had was his bare ass disappearing into the trees. They were both surprised.

  * * *

  Mad Dog looked over the supplies Henry Oteas had brought up to their camp. Three pickup trucks were parked nearby. Lester wandered into the scene.

  Mad Dog pawed through the boxes. "Henry, did you get me those batteries?"

  Henry, a retired canefield worker, sat to one side drinking his favorite drink, a mixture of bourbon and Gatorade. He was Tahitian and wore his mane of white hair tied back in a ponytail. His clothes all seemed a little large on him.

  Henry looked blank. "If it was on my list, it's in the boxes."

  "You didn't read the list?" Mad Dog asked.

  Henry said, "Tomo did. Keep looking."

  Lester watched Henry drinking. "How can you drink that shit?"

  Henry winked. "It's good shit."

  Lester said, "Hey, old man, what are you going to do with your fourth?"

  Henry smiled happily. "Buy a house for my grandson and his bride. The rest is for my old age."

  Lester mocked him. "You're old now."
Then he daydreamed aloud about his own lot. "I'm gonna buy a lot of women. Nothing in the world is worse than not getting any."

  Mad Dog had found batteries and had replaced the old ones in his pocket-size electronic blackjack game. As he started punching the keys, Mad Dog said, "Sure, I'll take a hit on seventeen." He punched the keys. "Shit."

  Lester told his father, "Mad Dog, you know what's crazy? Tomo's gonna use his share and get married. With that kinda money, he can afford more than just one woman." He broke up over his own joke. "One with meat on her bones!"

  Henry frowned at the inside of his drink.

  Lester Rahler said, "Tomo and his woman. He's so big and she's so skinny." Then he asked Henry, "How they ever do it, old man?"

  Henry spoke stiffly, "What they do, they do in private."

  "Have you ever watched them doing it?"

  Henry was slowly burning. "I don't talk about your family."

  Lester perked up. "What's that mean?"

  "You shouldn't talk about mine," Henry said.

  Lester started advancing on the old man, his chest out, looking for a fight. "Don't tell me what I can talk about."

  Mad Dog stopped him. "Lester!"

  Lester told Mad Dog, "I want him!"

  Mad Dog smacked his son’s head so hard that sweat flew off his face.

  Mad Dog said, "No!

  Lester backed down. "Aw, Mad Dog, he can't take a joke!"

  Mad Dog snapped, "Don't call me Mad Dog! I’m your father. You respect me, you shit!"

  Lester apologized. "I'm sorry, daddy."

  "I'll kick you so hard, you'll have another crack in your ass!"

  Lester got crazy-eyed. "I said I was sorry!"

  Mad Dog said, "Forget it, Lester, understand?"

  Henry warily, silently watched these two.

  Lester was contrite. "I'm just getting stir-crazy, that's all. "

  Mad Dog backed off. "Hey, son, it's cool. "

  Lester Rahler said, "Okay if I go down to the farm for tonight?"

  Mad Dog, against his better judgment, said, "Yeah, sure. But nowhere else, understand?"

  Lester told Henry, "Whenever you're ready, I'll follow you."

  Without a word, Henry rose and walked towards his truck. Lester followed him, grinning like a fool back at his father.

  Mad Dog stared after them, worried.