Absolution River

by Aaron Mach

  “We’re here buddy, you doin’ okay?”

  Jack nodded ever so slightly and shook his head to kick the grogginess from the sedatives.

  Anders said, “You’re gonna be fine, they just have you here as a precaution. You lost a lot of blood.”

  Jack struggled to speak, “How, how long?”

  “You’ve been out two days man, like a rock. They said you were in a kind of coma. Your body just shut down.”

  Jack became alert and sat straight up. The adrenaline once again began to flow as he ripped out the IV and the heart monitor patches. The EKG went flat-line and the coding alarm went off. Nurses began to rush into the room and hold him down as they injected another dose of sedatives straight into his arm.

  “It’s not over,” Jack mumbled. “It’s not over.”

  “It’s over Jack, just rest, you need to rest.” Marie said as she put her hand on his chest.

  “Coolidge,” Jack said as he fell back into a deep sleep.

  …

  The house was beautiful. Nothing from the pages of the Home and Garden magazine, but it was theirs. The fence surrounding the blue farmhouse was white and in front there were two cattle dogs herding each other in the large, mowed front yard. Along the front of the house was a large patio painted entirely white. There was one of those chairs elevated by chain swinging in the wind. Jack and Marie looked across the yard and saw two small children, a girl and a boy, playing with the dogs, being herded around like little cows by the dogs. Their laughter was loud and happy. Living in a dream they made for themselves. Jack looked at them and then at Marie. He smiled, took a sip of the lemonade his wife had prepared for them, and savored the sour sweetness in the hot Montana summer. Closing his eyes, he could feel the breeze on his face and the wind blowing the large pines that lined the east side of the house. A few cars drove by the front and he would wave as if playing a role he never imagined. The happiness he felt was from that of a storybook, an ending that could only be found in a dream. In the distance he could see a large black SUV pull up to the end of the driveway. The road leading up to the house was a hundred yards and made of dirt. The back window rolled down and there was nothing but darkness inside of the cab. A rifle poked out and immediately a shot rang out. He went to the ground immediately but it was too late, too late for Marie. The bullet struck her lemonade glass and impacted directly into her chest. She looked down at the small red dot that became larger and larger. She then gazed down at Jack and smiled. Her head went limp with her chin resting on her chest.

  “No!” Jack yelled as he awoke in the hospital bedroom. Rain was beating hard against the window and flashes of lighting filled the dark room. He sat up straight and put his hand to his head, realizing that it was a dream. His heart beat fast, like a drum in a Native American ceremonial dance. Sweat poured down his brow. Anger was building deep from within him.

  “It’s not over.”

  He ripped the IV from his arm and jumped out of the bed. The screen of the EKG machine went black as Jack unplugged it so as not to alert the nurses. He scrambled around the closet next to the bed and found his old ragged clothes. They were black with dried blood and nearly ripped to shreds. Putting on the moccasins he got from Eli, he quietly looked out the door of the room. Left then right. Nothing. There were hardly any staff on duty and Marie and Anders were nowhere to be found. Must be late. Looking to his right, the hallway was black, illuminated only by the red of the exit signs every twenty feet. He was extremely weak, but someone with better hands than his friend closed his wound and he hoped they would hold for what he had to do. Just before the stairway was a hallway where he could hear voices. Glancing around the corner, he saw Marie talking with one of the nurses, pleading with her to be allowed to stay through the night. He wanted to see her so badly, but she would stop him. Implore him to stay and let the authorities take care of it. There was no way this was possible. Coolidge was too powerful. He would be above the law, outside of their reach. He tiptoed across the hallway intersection and slowly opened the door to the stairway. Climbing down three flights of stairs, looking down the gap between them for anyone who may be approaching, he found a rear exit out of the hospital. Alarm will sound was emblazed across the door. No choice. The sound was deafening and the rain thick. He was instantly wet. His bandage soaked through almost immediately and he began to run as fast as his body would allow. Each pump of his arm pulled harder and harder on the stitches.

  I have to do this, he thought.

  It’s the only way she’ll be safe.

  As he ran through the rain, through the parking lot and into the woods, across the busy street, his mind also ran. Thinking of Eli, what he promised to him. How he was going to show him that he was different. What option do I have, he thought. He would not run like his father ran. It was time to stand and finish what he started. Time to bring justice where there was no justice. In a world where evil men ran free, inflicting pain on the weak. No more.

  The forest was thick and dark. The branches of the trees cut into his face and hands as he ran boldly through them. He stopped to catch his breath and looked down at his stomach. The blood had already started to bleed through the rain soaked bandage. Up ahead he could see a gas station. The lights filled the void between the trees, and it was his only chance. On the outskirts of the woods just behind the main building of the gas station he saw a station wagon pull up. The man got out and began to pump. Soon he went into the station to pay, and Jack ran up into the vehicle. Jack pulled the panel below the steering wheel and revealed a yellow and brown wire. Striking the two together, the wires sparked and then the engine roared. Slamming the gear into drive, he pulled out of the station slowly and once he hit the interstate he put the pedal to the floor and was flying at over a hundred miles an hour.

  How am I going to find him? Think Jack, think.

  Whether it was fate, providence, or sheer damn luck, a highway billboard came into view after only a few miles.

  “Working Hard to Get Montana Working!” was written in large blue letters along the top of the board. A gleaming smile and an expensive suit filled the remaining space and along the bottom, “HELP THE CAUSE! VOLUNTEER!” Next to it was a number.

  Gotcha.

  Jack eyed a pay phone along the highway and braked hard, skidding the back of the boat-sized station wagon around. He pulled next to it and ran around the front of the car.

  “Calling collect sir, you must really want to volunteer. This is the office of Congressman Coolidge, how would you like to help the cause?” replied a woman on the other end.

  “Yes, I just really believe in what the congressman says about getting to work. How much he is willing to do. I’d really like to meet him,” Jack said, putting on the charm as well as he could in this situation, trying to control his frantic breathing.

  “Well, sir, the congressman is a very busy man-”

  “Oh yes I’m sure he is, it would just really mean a lot.”

  “He is out of town on vacation now at his cabin near Lake Macdonald, he’ll be back next week. Can I sign you up and get a volunteer commitment from you?”

  “Absolutely!” and Jack hung up the phone.

  …

  The house wasn’t difficult to find. Especially after asking every convenience store around the lake. Jack parked the station wagon half a mile from the house and went on foot.

  I am totally unprepared for this.

  Any moment Coolidge could send another hitman for him, and worse, for Marie. As he hiked up the forested hill in the rain above the extravagant cabin along the lake, he thought about his dream. A dream he had never had before about anyone. The perplexing ramifications of that life intrigued him. Never in his life would he ever have thought about settling down, subjecting a person to the pain he experienced in his life. There were so many changes in that last couple of weeks and it brought on so much confusion. What would he do after this? If there was an after this. He was going in blind to a man probably guarded by several highly
trained men with a gaping abdominal wound and no weapons. In addition, his overactive consciousness born of his awakening with Eli blocked his savagery. The animal instincts he needed to survive in combat. He felt as if only a man, a man that wanted, no, needed to be with Marie. Have children with her, love her and start a life together. The sins of his father no longer ruled his actions. All his life since the day his father left he had been a lone wolf, running from connection, simply living a life to live it with no real purpose. Doing what he had to do to survive, to forget being abandoned, tossed aside by the only family he had. Those days were over. Eli brought it out of him. Saved him from the depths of his soul just as he saved him from the depths of the raging floodwaters that cold rainy night all those weeks ago. A gesture at the time he hated. He was ready to leave this world. Rejection and abandonment had taken their toll and he was ready, so ready. The life Eli brought to him, the realization that all men face choices in life. The choice to stand firm in the righteous or turn and tuck tail at the first sign of adversity was no longer a difficult one. Sure, he had always faced danger in the jungles of Vietnam or within the isolated rock of the prison, but he was dead to it. He never accepted the pain, but in that he could also not feel the joy. Staying neutral was his defense mechanism. No more. Not now and not ever. He was renewed, forged in the furnace of fear and isolation and rising above with a new found respect for life and what it offered. Eli and Marie showed him that it was possible, that anything was possible. The man, the man at the center of his last greatest tragedy must atone for his sins.

  The congressman’s fortress was isolated among the dark pines of the wilderness. Warm light exploded out of the numerous windows and fell into the blackness surrounding it. Two hundred feet out, Jack sat still, listening, observing, waiting. He scraped his weary, cut hands into the soft mud and covered his face and hands with it. The reflection of the moon was bright and the reflection off of his skin would be enough to give his position away. In the distance he could hear two men on the southwest corner of the cabin smoking and chatting. They were laughing and joking about some girls they met the night before. There was only one SUV in the front of the cabin, black, maybe fifty feet in front of the main entrance. The driveway was dirt and narrow and the light color of the gravel reflected the moon’s brilliance, giving it a silver glow. The cabin was large and rustic. From what he could tell it was two levels with the main having vaulted ceilings of at least forty feet. Through the rear window he could see through the kitchen and into the living room. The congressman sat in an oversized leather chair. His feet were propped up on a matching ottoman. All he could see was the thin balding top of his head and his left hand holding a drink. The room was filled with the golden light of a grand fireplace large enough to park a car. Even from his position up the hill he could hear opera music blasting, and the sound must’ve been deafening in the house. Perfect.

  The two men were large, each wearing black suits. Their leather-gloved hands wrapped around silenced sub-machine guns casually held to their sides. The odor from their chain smoking was pungent in the air and Jack smelled it before he even saw them. Undisciplined. This would help a great deal.

  Slowly Jack crouched and weaved in and out of the trees. The rear end of the cabin butted up against the thick forest and there would be plenty of cover between him and the two targets. Alive, keep them alive. He was no longer a killer. Remember that, Jack. The shorter and stockier of the two threw his cigarette down on the ground and stomped it out with his black tactical boot. He turned and Jack froze in his spot. The man stopped and stared into the woods and it seemed for a moment that he and Jack locked eyes. But that was not the case. The guard moved around the corner, moving east along the back of the cabin. The other guard stood still, throwing his cigarette onto the ground, pulling another and lighting it immediately. The guard turned around and faced the lake. My chance. Jack emerged from the heavily wooded trees and kept low below the windows that lined the back of the cabin. His movement was swift. With two hands clasped into a ball, Jack came down hard on the back of the man’s head and he collapsed to the ground. The sub-machine gun was attached to the guard and it was coming down hard too. Jack instinctually moved to grab it before it landed and he clutched the handle inches before it crashed into the gravel. Jack took the weapon off of the guard and checked to make sure he was going to be out for a while. Pulse was good, out cold. Staying low, he heard the other guard’s whistling from around the corner of the rear of the cabin and he was within a few feet. His breathing controlled, waiting, waiting, closer and closer the footsteps came. The whistling became louder and louder. The stocky guard’s head came into view and the last thing he saw was the butt of a machine gun flying toward his face. He went down hard, falling back, his weapon striking the ground next to him. Jack paused for a moment and peered into the rear window to see if the noise was heard, nothing. He slung his weapon around his back and picked up the other. Moving his way towards the rear entrance of the cabin he checked the handle. Unlocked. The door handle turned easily and there was a very low creak as the door was pulled open. Jack slid himself in through the opening and quietly closed the door. There might be other guards. Could be half a dozen just waiting around the corner. They could all be sitting in a side room waiting for Jack to walk in and he would have no choice but to return fire, probably getting killed in the process. Sweat poured down the side of his muddy face as all the possibilities ran through his mind. None of them came to fruition. There was nobody in the house. Kitchen–clear. Hallway–clear. Jack sat in the dark, waiting for someone to come. The loud music changed tune and now there was only the sound of an ominous violin playing a quiet solemn tune. The minutes passed as he could hear the ice in the glass of the congressman shift around as he continued to take several sips of the amber liquor. There would be no one coming. From his position in the dark hallway leading to the living room with the congressman he could hear him get up and fix himself another drink. Standing over the drink cart across the room.

  “Hey!”

  Jack crouched lower.

  “I’m almost out, go run and get me a bottle from the basement!”

  A pause. No response.

  “What the hell I pay you guys for?” Coolidge mumbled a series of curses under his breath and moved back to the leather chair.

  “They won’t be getting you that drink, congressman,” Jack said as he approached the rear of the chair. The barrel of his gun aimed at the back of Coolidge’s head, and eventually the two met. The cold from the end of the barrel touched his balding head, shocking him out of the seat.

  “Wait, what?” said the congressman in a state of shock.

  “Please, sit back down, you looked so comfortable.”

  “You, it’s you.”

  Jack moved over to the other leather chair and each sat facing the fire. There was a look of calm on Jack’s face and a look of pure fear in the congressman’s. The barrel of the weapon faced the old man and Jack looked into the roaring fire as its light reflected in them.

  “You–you can’t be alive, I mean, what are you doing here?” Coolidge said in disbelief.

  Jack simply stared into the fire.

  “Hey, we can work this out, I have money, a lot of money, what will it take, huh?” he said, taking a heavy drink from his glass. “You know that business with Julia, that was business you know, you understand right?”

  Jack turned to him and cocked his head, “Julia?”

  “You beat the shit out of my son, what did you expect? Can’t have people going around beating up my family with no consequences.”

  “Julia?” Jack repeated louder.

  “Yeah, no harm no foul, right? You’re out now, no big deal, now you’ll be rich. How about it?” Coolidge said as he became continually more unsettled. The prospect that he may be enjoying his last drink entered his mind and he began to shake, the ice in the glass pinging the sides of the glass.

  “You did that to Julia? And you tortured Marie, killed m
y friend?”

  Coolidge sat there, being faced with his sins head-on with no meaningful way to rationalize them. “Hey, Jack.” He laughed nervously.

  Jack looked back into the fire. Disbelieving how the events have unfolded before him. The man that sat next to him was responsible for his eight years in solitary confinement. Attempted to take away everything that brought him out of the depths. Was the orchestrator of the events that put doubts into his mind all those years sitting alone, trying to figure what happened between all that brick and mortar.

  Jack turned again to him, with great calm, “You destroyed that woman’s life. You took her child from her. You tortured my friend and killed Eli. How will you explain this when you get to the other side?”

  “Whoa, hey now, who is talking about going to the other side?”

  “That is your decision.”

  His true colors came out, “Listen here asshole, I did all those things, sure. I’d do them again! Who the fuck are you to say otherwise? You got in the way. You got in the way of progress! That’s how things get done. You have to get your hands dirty. That little bitch deserved it. She was going to tarnish my good name! Fuck you, do what you have to, I ain’t saying shit else.”

  The room was finally quiet. The sound of the music stopped as the tape ended. The silence was deafening but for the ice in the glass as Coolidge brought it to his face once more and finished his drink.

  It was so difficult for Jack to hear the man’s depravity. Not to put a bullet straight into his forehead and walk out of there, back to Marie and tell her it was over. To let his old self back just for a brief moment to finish this thing once and for all. The image of Eli and Jack on the river laughing as they caught the flying fish ran through his mind. As he stared into the fire he grinned and was happy to have that wonderful memory. A time of peace and friendship, a time he hoped to have once again. The decision that he made tonight could throw all of that away. The love he felt for his friend was never deeper than in that moment. Eli would be with him always. In those raging rapids, standing there by his side. Laughing at the wonder and glory that life had to offer. No matter what happened he would always be by his side, and the fish would never stop dancing for them.