by RJ Johnson
Kneeling at the stoop, the man picked up a rock and felt along the edges for a crack. He twisted it, splitting the rock into two pieces, revealing a hide-a-key tucked neatly into a mold.
Using the key to open the door, the man stood, listening to the house for any signs of life. When satisfied there were none, he replaced the hide-a-key, closed and locked the door, drawing the shade shut slowly behind him.
When he turned to walk into the kitchen, he ran smack dab into the muzzle of a 12-gauge shotgun.
“You were much better sneaking into the house when you were 17, you know.” The muzzle of the gun lowered, revealing Ted McCray, whose eyes were welling up at the sight in front of him.
“Hey, Pop,” Alex replied as he stepped forward to hug his father for the first time in six years.
Chapter Three
The interrogation was delayed. No answers were expected and none were given. After he hugged Alex enough to guarantee that his once-dead son was in fact really standing inside his home, Ted rushed him into the kitchen, where a father began cooking breakfast for his son.
For the first few minutes, Alex just sat and nursed the coffee his father had given him as the older man busied himself in the kitchen. Unsure of what exactly to talk about, Ted began to regale Alex with stories about his friends from high school, giving him the high school reunion treatment in thirty seconds. The ones who had left and gone onto huge jobs and opportunities, the ones who were married, and one other whom Alex was especially anxious to hear about.
“Scott’s been working with NASA at JPL for the last three years now.” Ted said happily, turning back to his son, ignoring the burning eggs in the pan on the stove. “That kid was always whiz-bang smart while you guys were growing up, but man, he really has taken it to another level. He’s literally a rocket scientist. He still comes over whenever he’s back in town, and we chat about what he’s up to, what projects he works on...” Ted turned back to the eggs. “Oh, dammit all to hell.”
Ted grabbed the pan off the stove, moving it to another burner. Grabbing a bowl full of egg yolks too quickly, he spilled the yellow viscous fluid all over the counter.
Alex smiled, put down his coffee, and went over to the stove, gently moving his father away from their breakfast. If he had any hopes of eating this morning, he thought, it was probably best that he took over; his father had a less-than-stellar record in the kitchen. Growing up, Alex had handled most of the cooking, and the both of them had become very thankful for that.
Ditching the eggs his father had ruined, Alex turned to the refrigerator and removed five eggs from the carton in the back. He placed them each deliberately side by side on the counter. Cracking them each, one at a time, into the bright metal mixing bowl on the kitchen counter, he stirred the eggs and milk together.
And for a moment, things were normal.
Ted watched as his son quickly and efficiently finished stirring the mixture together, then turned back to the stove, the pan already hot. Alex dumped the contents of his mixing bowl into it, and was rewarded by the sharp hissing of the eggs curdling on impact with the heat. Mixing the eggs in the pan with a wooden spatula, Alex laid out several cuts of bacon on the griddle that his father had heated up during his prep. Even with the simple, easy-to-cook meals, the calm that overtook Alex centered him in a way that no drugs, alcohol or meditation could.
The Norman Rockwell scene was short lived, however, as his father finally asked the question that Alex had been expecting all morning.
“Alex...” the old man said softly, “Where did you go?”
Alex lowered his head. It wasn’t time to answer that yet. In fact, if he wanted his father to live, it was best that he didn’t know anything else. But, he knew, six years is a long time to think your son a dead man, and Alex owed him something.
Alex removed the pan of eggs from the heat of the stove and dumped generous portions onto two plates his father had brought out. Placing a few strips of bacon on his plate, Alex turned to his father, who waited patiently for his son to answer.
“I’ve been dead, Pops.”
“So the Army told me, and yet here you are.” Ted sat back down at the table and attacked his egg. “I know technology is getting pretty good, but I don’t think they can make copies of people just yet, so that just leaves the 'nutjob conspiracy theory' part of my brain screaming out ideas of where you’ve been for the last six years.” Ted said, lowering his voice. “But whatever reason it was, I don’t much care. I’m just damn glad to have you back, kid.”
Alex sighed and looked in his father’s eyes. “Pops, I wish I could explain everything right now. There’s no limit to how terrible I feel on what you must have gone through, thinking I was gone all these years. I’m sorry; it was a decision I made irrationally, and once I was in, I couldn’t get out… I really…” Alex paused, as he struggled with the words. “I honestly wish I could tell you everything, but unfortunately, that’s just not an option I’ve got.” Alex leaned forward to his father as he spoke clearly. “There are…ghosts following me right now, and I don’t want them to find you too.”
Listening to his son, Ted nodded, “I’ll take what I can get, kiddo. Whatever I can do, I’ll keep you safe for now.”
“For now…” Alex agreed.
Ted heard the pain in his son’s voice and decided to make it easier for him.
“You stay as long as you need to. Just…” Ted’s voice broke again at this point, “You have to tell me goodbye when you leave this time. Fair?”
Alex nodded and clinked his coffee cup against his father’s. “Fair deal.”
“And then with that in mind, do you have any idea how long you can stay?” Ted’s voice was hopeful, and Alex hated to disappoint his father, but safety, speed and inconspicuousness were the keys to his survival for the moment.
“I might have two days.” Alex said, wincing even as he said the words. His father took it better than he thought he would.
“Then let’s not waste any time. You look like you're still in good shape; limber enough for some rope climbing?” his father asked, becoming a bundle of energy.
“Yeah, I still get out rock climbing every once in a while.” Alex’s eyes became distant as he thought for a moment about a particularly tricky slope in Afghanistan that he had found himself clinging to.
“In that case, I’ve got two days with my son, and I’m determined not to waste any time. The way I see things, you’ve missed six annual trips to Joshua Tree, and you owe me.” Ted said brightly.
They had gone to the remote location in the Mojave Desert for its spectacular camping and climbing spots ever since Alex was fourteen years old. In fact, it had been those trips that had inspired Alex to join the Armed Forces. He and his father would climb the highest cliff available and watch the jets fly in and out of 29 Palms, dreaming of the day when it would be his turn behind the yoke and control stick, screaming across the sky at five hundred miles an hour. Unfortunately, Alex had grown too tall to fly in the fighter jets, but the Army had treated him like a gift from above.
Ted had already gotten up from the breakfast table, intent on packing for their trip. Alex grabbed his eager father’s arm before he could get too far.
“Pops, I can’t be seen in the open right now. I took a huge risk even coming here.” Alex kept his voice low. “I’m safe for now, but there’s no guarantee that it will stay that way. Men are looking for me, and while there’s no record of where I come from, or where I grew up, if I’m seen, that puts you in danger.”
“It’s not a pretty world we live in,” Ted replied evenly to his son. “You’re my son, and as far as I know, you died six years ago, killed by some damn stupid training exercise. No one will find out who you are, or what happened to you. I’m just asking for one more family trip, you and I…together, before you have to go back out into whatever wild blue yonder you find yourself in again.”
Ted’s voice lowered, sounding almost desperate. “I haven’t had much going for me the last
few years, with your mother dead, and you gone. Some nights, well, some nights I didn’t really see the point of going on, but now that I know you're alive and you're here…” Ted paused, choking up. “I’m going to treasure every moment I’ve got.”
Alex’s sense of self-preservation was beginning to wane. How much more could he really put his father through? Besides, Joshua Tree was in just of a remote area of California as Onyx was; the risks probably wouldn’t be any worse there than they were here. In fact, Alex considered, it might actually be the perfect place for him to hide out for the next few days.
He smiled broadly at the older man’s enthusiasm, “All righty, Pops, let’s go climb some mountains.”
Ted slapped his knee and rushed off with an energy that Alex hadn’t seen for a long time. Whatever happened, Alex decided, it was worth seeing his father happy again.
You can purchase The Twelve Stones for your Kindle HERE
About the Author
RJ Johnson was born in Southern California where he grew up in the idyllic mountain town of Big Bear Lake, California. He was bitten by the writing bug early in life after his second grade teacher helped publish his first novel by binding a short story for him he had written for his class. After attending San Jose State University, he got into radio where he spent the majority of his career producing radio and performing on-air both nationally and in cities like Dallas, San Diego, and San Francisco.
He now lives in San Diego, California where he spends his time chasing the wolf from his door by publishing his books and short stories.
Other books by RJ Johnson
The Twelve Stones
Rosetta: A Jim Meade - Martian PI Novel
Change in Management: A Jim Meade - Martian PI Novel