A Root from Infertile Ground

by Thomas H. Reed

  Before the gunman could weld his position into an irreversible status, she stepped bravely toward him, but somehow he had anticipated her move and was stepping backward to gain a moment of time to think. His plan fell completely apart when a hundred and fifty pounds of growling, salivating animal sprang from a dark corner of the house and knocked the gunman to the ground with a bounding leap. The animal was all over the gunman as he tried in vain to reach the weapon that had fallen from his hand during the attack.

  Jodie quickly kicked the weapon from his reach and followed it to a skidding stop some ten feet away. She gathered the weapon while she wondered how many of the gunmen were left for her to deal with. She guessed that at least one had sped away when the big animal zeroed in on him. At the least she was feeling more confident about her chance of defending her and Mel’s provisional fort now.

  In a salivating frenzy the animal chewed on the gunman. Jodie gave the animal’s action one quick glance and then pointed the confiscated weapon into a darkened area across the yard and punched a few rounds into the shrubs. After determining the weapon was still working, she stepped back inside the weathered shack and locked the door behind her; vehemently hoping the animal would eat the gunman.

  With the weapon in hand, Jodie rushed to Mel’s bedside, leaned over and felt for a pulse. Mel was still alive and that was about all she could say for him. She opened the cell phone with one hand, not daring to put the weapon down for a minute. She called the sheriff’s office and identified herself and asked to speak to Chalky Calkins.

  Jodie had gotten to know Chalky pretty well over the past few years and liked him. When Chalky picked up, she quickly told him what had taken place at the shack. She told him that at least one of the gunmen had fled the scene, and then she mentioned that Mel believed one of the gunmen was a deputy sheriff.

  Before hanging up, Jodie stressed the importance of getting help for Mel as quickly as possible. She gave the deputy the name of a physician she trusted, emphasizing the fact that Mel didn’t want to be in a hospital where the gunmen could get at him.

  Chalky agreed to her wishes and told her he was sending help immediately. Within ten minutes Jodie saw the lights speeding down the dirt road. She laid the cumbersome automatic weapon on the table with the other guns, then on second thought she pushed one of the smaller nine millimeter handguns into her pocket just a split second before someone banged on the door. Jodie asked who was there just as a precaution, even though she had seen the flashing lights.

  The deputy identified himself and she opened the door. He rushed in and headed to the bed where Mel lay sleeping. Jodie noticed that Mel was moving restlessly now and sounded as if he were trying to say something. She moved closer to his bed just as the deputy leaned over Mel. “What are you doing? You can’t move him. Deputy Calkins is sending a doctor out here to see to his injuries.”

  “There’s been a change in plans. I’m taking him to the hospital. You can help me get him into my vehicle. It’s only a short ride and he’ll make it just fine.”

  “No. He’s not going anywhere tonight. I made that clear, and deputy Calkins agreed with me.”

  “You don’t understand, lady, deputy Calkins is not running this show. I’m in charge and I say he’s going to the hospital. Now help me move him into my car.”

  “Sorry, deputy, but I’m running this show now. This man is my responsibility until he’s well enough to speak for himself. You’re not taking him anywhere.”

  The deputy cursed and pulled his gun as he turned to Jodie. She had her hand in her pocket. She didn’t know if the gun had a bullet in the chamber or if it had been left in the safety mode. She didn’t dare try bluffing her way through a showdown with an officer of the law. And especially not with an empty gun. If she so much as pulled the gun for show, he could shoot her on the spot and be justified in the shooting.

  The deputy had his back to Mel as he spoke with Jodie. Jodie saw Mel suddenly open his eyes. He was trying hard to focus on the deputy. After several seconds, his stare became steady and Jodie saw a look of surprise and then fear in his eyes. Why was he afraid of the deputy?

  Then suddenly Jodie knew what had been bothering her from the moment the deputy entered the shack. This was the deputy that worked for the gunmen who wanted her and Mel dead. This was the deputy who planned to kill them both, and if he could do it soon enough, he could get away with it. He could simply blame the killing on the gunman who had escaped the shack earlier. Nobody knew who he was, and it wasn’t likely he’d ever be found. The deputy could claim she and Mel were dead when he arrived. Or better still, not admit he had ever been here. If he could make it back to the road before the doctor and crew arrived, he could make it work.

  “Hand me the gun you have in your pocket.” The deputy said sternly. And make it snappy, I don’t have all day to mess around here.”

  “And if I don’t,” Jodie said while trying to stare him down. She was stalling for time, hoping... praying... that Mel could actually reach the gun he was trying for if she could keep the deputy involved in a conversation long enough.

  “You’re supposed to be an officer of the law, why are you acting like one of the gunmen who tried to kill us?”

  “Just shut the hell up, bitch, and hand over the gun before I put a bullet between your eyes, and if you think I won’t do it, just stand there blabbing a minute longer; but I can assure you it’ll be the last thing you do on this earth.”

  “Oh I doubt it,” Jody told him calmly. Why don’t you take a look behind you? I think you might reconsider your whole plan for the evening.”

  “What are you talking about? There’s nothing behind me except a half dead man whose going to be fully dead very shortly.”

  The deputy was raising his gun to carry out his threat when the bullet from Mel’s gun caught him between the shoulder blades at an angle that allowed the bullet to bypass Jodie when it came through the deputy’s chest and lodged in a wall.

  Jodie saw the lights from the doctors automobile approaching just as she ended her phone conversation with Deputy Calkins.

  She learned that Calkins had not sent a deputy to the shack. Deputy Streeter had overheard Deputy Calkins’ earlier conversation with Jodie and had learned that Mel could identify him. That was sufficient motivation to take Mel out.

  Deputy Calkins was in charge of the cleanup operation and arrived with an ambulance and a full crew to remove the dead and take statements. He told Jodie she could come in later after Mel had been attended to, and he would take her statement then. He also mentioned that deputy Streeter had been on the force’s watch list for several weeks now. At least two other deputies had noticed actions from him that were not standard for a deputy sheriff.

  The force had been keeping him under observation as much as possible without arousing his suspicions. Now they would obtain a court order to investigate his bank accounts and any other material holdings that looked suspicious. Streeter hadn’t earned the salary as a deputy sheriff that offered the lifestyle he had been living the past two years.

  Jodie held the phone between her shoulder and chin as she talked with a local welfare agent while plastering new bandages on Mel’s body. Mel told her to leave him be and go attend to her business that needed her more than he did.

  Jodie completed her call, turned off the phone and said calmly, “Fuck you Mel Baker. You need me. You couldn’t begin to take care of yourself ... or your monster dog, without me, and you know it.”

  “Now there you go again, getting all romantic and starry-eyed while I’m in no condition to take advantage of it. How can a man win with such rotten luck sticking to him like a bag of barnacles?”

  “Oh, you’ll think of something my hairy chested pet. I have faith in you...”

  Chapter 16

  Jodie sat on her porch looking out across the desert at the setting sun. A very large and shaggy dog was snoozing peacefully at her feet. She sipped a glass of tea and for the first time in a long while, she had nothing to d
o and no place to go. Mel was on the mend, the clinic was running smoothly, and all was right with the world. She settled back in her lounge chair and rolled the cool glass across her forehead. Then she suddenly sat up in her chair, a startled look on her face.

  “Well Baby Cakes you did all right!”

  “Is that you… the… the voice in the desert?”

  “Well it sure ain’t the Culligan man!”

  “I thought you were just some psychotic episode I had to deal with back when my brain was fried.”

  “Now ain’t that a fine howdy do?”

  “Who are you? What are you?”

  “Me? Just an old soldier that’s still breathing way past his time. At one time I was the best. Four tours in Nam, I went to places that God feared to go, never so much as got a scratch on me. Then I was on my way home and the aircraft I was on took a load of fire from the ground. We went down and the aircraft went up in a ball of flame. I should have been killed, and for all practical purposes I was. Burns over 90% of my body, massive concussion, broken bones, internal injuries, my eyes burned right out of my head. But my body just wouldn’t give up. They put me in a VA hospital and I’ve been here ever since. I suppose I’m in some kind of coma, not sure what they call it. I ain’t no doctor. For a long time I was just trapped in my body. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. My ears were burned away and I couldn’t hear, and worst of all I couldn’t see. For a while I thought I would go insane. I couldn’t tell when I was awake or asleep. I started seeing images in my head. Images that I didn’t know anything about or even where they were coming from. Some of them were from the nurse that worked here in the VA. When it finally dawned on me what was going on, that on some level I was actually communicating with her, I tried to convince her to end it for me. Then she up and quit. I guess I pushed too hard, and she didn’t trust herself to work in the hospital anymore. Anyway I found that I could go out into the world and every once in a while I could connect with people. Not everyone, though. It’s like some folks have a protective wall around them. But sometimes I could get through, and when I did I could see through their eyes; hear what they hear. And on rare occasions I could even talk to them. That’s when I came across you. Man you were a mess. I couldn’t believe how messed up you were. But your brain, for all the abuse you put your body through, was clean. Man you were one hard cookie. Fought me every step of the way. But you made it in spades. I never seen anyone turn around like you did.”

  “But you stopped talking to me.”

  I didn’t need to talk to you anymore. You had everything you needed. At that point I was just in the way. So yes, I just sat back and watched. Been watching ever since. Oh, ever so often, I would put my two cents in. You remember Lindsey? She was one of your earlier saves, or at least one you attempted to save. That girl was pure evil, but you just wouldn’t see it. I finally stepped in and put the pieces together for you so you could see her for what she is. But for the most part you did just fine all on your own.”

  “So why now? Why are you talking to me now after all this time? I don’t get it!”

  “I’m tired, Baby Cakes. This old body is giving up. Hell, it should have given up back in the 1970. Now it’s shutting down for sure. I ain’t got much longer, and I couldn’t just drift off and not say so long to Baby Cakes.”

  “You’re going?”

  “I got to go! Ain’t got no choice. Besides it’s my time, no one is supposed to live forever.”

  “But I never got a chance to meet you, or say thank you.”

  “Well say your thanks now and know it was my pleasure. Not only seeing you go from a scared rabbit to a fierce fighting machine. But watching you take down those grease balls.”

  “Where are you? What hospital?”

  “Aw you don’t want to see me, girl. Ain’t nothing anyone should have to look at.”

  “But you saved my life… saved my soul! I don’t care what you look like.”

  “Even if you came, it wouldn’t matter. I can’t see or hear you. Third degree burns and… poof, no nerve endings. I couldn’t even feel you touch me. Besides I want you to think of me the way I was.”

  “But I don’t know what you looked like.”

  Suddenly an image appeared in her head. A tall good looking black man in his early 20s wearing jungle fatigues smiled at her.

  “That’s what I want you to remember, not that lump of charred meat at the VA hospital. You don’t need to see that. I don’t want you to see that. You promise me girl, you stay away from there!”

  “But—”

  “But nothing! They will be planting what is left of me in the South Haven Lawn in Redding California. Look for Scott Hedrick.”

  “Scott Hedrick, that’s your name?”

  I know, all of us black people are supposed to have names like Roscoe, or Rastus, or now days it could be Tyrone, Mohamed or Denzel. But some of us are named Scott.”

  “No Scott, I didn’t mean it like that...”

  “Lighten up girl. I was just pulling your chain. One thing I never got around to, and maybe it’s about time I did; you need to get a sense of humor. Especially in the line of work you’re doing. You hang onto all that seriousness and you’re going to be meeting me sooner than you’d like to.”

  For a while they were both quiet, and then she said softly, “Scott?”

  “What’s up Baby Cakes?”

  “Thank you… for everything. If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t be here.”

  “No reason to thank me. You want to thank me, you just keep on living. Have a passel of kids, and if one of them happens to be a good looking boy, name him Scott.”

  She smiled. “I’ll do that!”

  “I love you Baby Cakes. If it weren’t for you I would have probably gone crazy right here in my old head.”

  There was silence again for a moment before he said, “It’s time. I can feel this old body shutting down. It’s somewhat strange. I thought I would be afraid but I ain’t.”

  Another long pause and she thought maybe he’d passed on. The voice she heard was far off and fading, but still she heard it. “You take care of Mel, Baby Cakes, he’s a good man.”

  The voice grew fainter and even further away. Then she heard, “Momma? Is that you? And Jodie knew for sure now that her benefactor from the past, her voice in the desert, was finally on his way home. She smiled in spite of the lump in her throat when she heard: “Hey Baby Cakes, look, it’s my Momma!

  See you around Baby Cakes…!”

  About the Book

  Jodie’s whole purpose and aim in life was to nurture abused youngsters back to physical and emotional health, but there was a problem with her aim; she had a tendency to allow her heart to become involved with each new ward. But a glimpse into Jodie’s own battered background will help one to understand why she perceives the abuse of homeless children as a personal injury: After surviving a stabbing from a ruthless mercenary in an isolated desert camp, Jodie discovers she has acquired an invisible companion in the form of a voice that taunts her. She realizes the voice is trying to goad her into making decisions that will help her to survive. And with the help of her new voice companion she is determined to wield a heap of revenge upon her captors.

  Jody destroys a compound that, unbeknown to her, contained a large arsenal of weapons and a ton of illegal drugs.

  Unfortunately, Jodie’s destruction of the compound created some powerful enemies whose main goal was her annihilation. However, Jodie surprises even her most depraved enemies when she suddenly turns combatant and becomes their worst nightmare.

  About the Author

  Born October 5th 1956 in Tularosa, New Mexico.

  Retired from U.S. Air Force in 1996.

  Worked for Federal Law Enforcement Training Center (FLETCH) as a Security Officer. Moved to Ruidoso, New Mexico to work as Gaming and Surveillance Agent where I have remained to the present date.

  Hobbies are writing and flying, and once in a while I pick up a handful of pencils or a pa
int brush and amaze myself when I discover I’m still a fair artist.

  I’ve never tried to publish my writing, but I enjoy writing. Same goes for my artwork. If not for close family and friends pushing on me to get it published it would all be moldering away in my attic where it would remain out of sight, out of mind. I cannot find as many reasons to get my work published as I can for not doing so: it’s expensive, it’s time consuming, and not one writer in a thousand earns a living writing. I write because I enjoy it. I paint for the same reason; it relaxes a part of my soul that life dumps a daily load of it’s spoils upon. However, I remain a happy soul. I believe in living as I see fit, but never hurting others, and letting others live as they wish if it doesn’t hurt me or my mine. Simplicity in it’s rarest form? Yes... But it works for me!