Francis stumbled out of the stall baffled and nearly unconscious. He pulled up and zipped his pants unable to look away from Ellie’s unmoving body. He thought of himself as a good looking man, but his looks had never driven a woman, his future mother-in-law no less, to such madness. He had managed to resist her enthusiasm, but he might not have the strength a second time. He decided to avoid women from that point forward – specifically Ellie – his love for Clover would, against all odds, remain greater than his libido. He and Clover left that night to find a place void of people and temptation.
Ellie would wake up in a hospital bed surrounded by police. She would explain how Francis Darling had first violated her and then ruthlessly beat her. She demanded police protection and immediate justice. When she led the police to Clover’s room, it was empty and Ellie’s fears were realized. She filed a missing persons report and cried for three full days. After months had passed, she knew her daughter would never again return. Ellie walked to the train tracks where the love of her life had died. She laid down there until a train tore her body into tiny bits. The police, unable to identify the pieces, cremated them unclaimed and unmarked. She died gratified by the thought of Francis Darling being found, arrested, and later raped in prison.
Clover and Francis would never learn of Ellie’s death, nor would they learn of Francis’ arrest warrant, for two days after Ellie’s death the police, investigating an unrelated case, discovered a hidden video camera in the hospital’s restroom containing footage of Ellie’s self-mutilation. The video camera belonged to a young male nurse by the name of Ron Wallace. His crimes included blackmail, extortion, attempted murder, and an assortment of sexual harassment charges. The video camera was hidden in the hopes of catching Dr. Tara Collins in the act of coitous. Rumors of her explicit behavior had set the hospital abuzz though no evidence could corroborate the gossip, and Ron Wallace had taken an interest in her shapely figure and bloated paycheck. If she refused to pay him or at least gratify him, then the video would make its way into every employee’s mail box. When she refused to pay him, he demanded sex. A struggle ensued. She quickly overtook him due to her advanced skills in jiu-jitsu, krav maga, and kempo. His pride was damaged worse than his body and, after regaining consciousness, he immediately filed a complaint with the police. In his haste, however, he forgot to remove the video camera from the restroom vent and when the police investigated his claim, they discovered it and its contents. Ron was arrested and the rumors of Dr. Tara Collins continued to spread without validation.
Clover and Francis would never learn of these events and, in fact, after eloping at City Hall, never returned to the city. They placed their few belongs in a small bag and began walking as far from temptation as they could. Their path led them deep into an unexplored portion of the forest void of people, except for one.
After a full two days of walking, Clover and Francis came upon a small log cabin. They did not wish to disturb the resident, but their lack of food left them little choice. A skinny man with a long beard opened the door. He said nothing – his nervous eyes studying every part of their person. Francis, feeling emboldened as a new husband, attempted to explain the series of events leading to this unfortunate moment. The words were loud and sharp and utterly confusing. However, when the mountain man heard the grumbling of Francis’ stomach, he opened the door fully and motioned for them to enter.
Francis grinned with pride, feeling for the second time that his ability to communicate was unmatched. He squeezed Clover’s hand and secretly attributed his new vocal dexterity to her incredible beauty and positive influence.
The mountain man poured two bowls of soup and set them on the table, then returned to his desk to solder and pack wires into a small box. The box would be a gift – though not a pleasant one. Upon opening the cardboard flaps a thin wire would be pulled out of place setting off an explosive reaction within the box aimed upward at the intended recipient’s hands and face. Already five men and two women had lost their hands – three others had lost the use their eyes as well. The recipients, though different in almost every way, shared exactly one commonality – they were regional managers of national bank chains. The mountain man had once been a Wall Street mogul, making more money in a month than most families could make in three years. Despite his wealth he remained frugal, living off the interest his investments earned. He cared little for the world – breaking relationships into carefully measured equations, comparing the dividends and potential risk of investment, managing his emotions much like a stock portfolio. He was a mathematical genius and since the early age of seven came to the conclusion that all worthwhile commodities could be interpreted and described by a number.
He doubted this philosophy only two times in his life. The first time occurred during his second year of college – four months and eight days before his seventeenth birthday. Nine other students had discovered his intellect and began using his work as a cheat sheet for upcoming tests. One of the students, a senior, for reasons that not even she could explain, took him into an empty bedroom and made love to him while the other students vigorously studied in the adjoining space.
He could calculate the perspiration rate of her skin, the angle and velocity of her gyroscopic motion, her increased air consumption based on her elevated heart rate – he could measure the heat generated by the friction of their skin, the force exerted on the mattress as their bodies moved, the compressed wavelength of her voice as she climaxed – as he climaxed. The numbers he compiled were an exact representation of the event; though, somehow, they failed to describe what he was feeling. He buried this feeling as best he could for the next day the woman was gone and he never saw or heard from her again.
Exactly fourteen years, two months, and three days later a young girl stood in front of his door, claiming to be his daughter. She was bright, like him, though she carried with her a vibrant charisma that – he postulated – must have come from her mother. The only object she desired was the affection of a missing father. He tried to recapitulate her request into a manageable equation, but before he could finish his composition, her mother, full of worry and desperation, arrived to claim her. She was beautiful, even in her frantic state and he felt something wonderful – which he quickly calculated as a mixture of adrenaline, testosterone, and endorphins with a faint hint of caffeine.
She took her daughter and apologized. He told her not to and he gave her his business card. She took it and left in a hurry. Despite her speed, she and her daughter would not make it home that afternoon. A truck traveling at exactly 83mph (43mph over the speed limit) would fail to stop at a red light. The driver, intoxicated on pain killers and sleeping pills, would swerve at the exact time and angle needed to hit the car containing the woman and her daughter head on. The police would inform the Wall Street mogul of these events and he would spend the next three days calculating the measurements contained in the police report.
At the funeral he would explain how the velocity and angle of impact meant the woman and her daughter died instantaneously and given the bruising of the bodies and blood patterns in the car it would have been impossible for any nervous system to have processed the pain. The results would not provide any comfort. For the second time in his life, his precious numbers refused to explain the loss and pain that made his body ache.
He studied the life of the man driving the truck hoping to derive an equation that would explain the events. After months of work, he decided more data was needed. He expanded his study to incorporate the entire city, eventually the country, and finally the world. Years passed. He diligently and unapologetically shattered established theories of probability and physics. Though his work was revolutionary, he refused to publish it for none of it contained the answers he craved.
After nearly ten years he had devised an equation, both simplistic and elegant, that mapped probable eventualities on a macroscopic scale. This equation, like his earlier work, would fail to restore the vitality of his heart. It would, however, have
an alternately catastrophic effect. For in the fluidity of his numbers, the Wall Street mogul discovered a demoralizing pattern. His presumption involved the fluctuation of capital into and out of stagnant economic locations – specifically how resources such as water, real estate, fuel, and electricity could be manipulated and often withheld to control the behavior of seemingly helpless citizens.
He used the life of the man driving the truck as a case study, though how the Wall Street mogul linked bank executives with the death of his first love and daughter is, and always will be, a mystery. His rage and decisive revenge was quite clear, both to the bank executives and the authorities.
After his unnerving discovery, he sold all his assets and withdrew his money from the several banks he had invested in. He stuffed the $500,000 stacks into pillow cases and drove them to his secluded cabin. They resided there with him as he sent his death boxes to the prestigious banks across North America.
He had begun the construction of his eighth gift when the knocking hand of Francis Darling interrupted his concentration. He did not plan on opening the door, but an emotion overtook him when he spied the faultless Clover Collette through his peep hole. Her perfect aesthetics fascinated him and he felt at once excited. It was as if his equation had taken form as a fleshy body. He wished to study her more closely and so he ushered them both in and poured each a bowl of soup.
Over the years, Clover had grown accustomed to strangers gawking at her and in fact thought it was a kind of politeness, much like shaking hands, so, when the mountain man stared deeply and unyieldingly at her, she stared back. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at him so candidly. He was at once reminded of the young girl on his doorstep claiming to be his daughter. He could not explain this moment of whimsy or the tears that gathered along the creases of his face, and he suddenly feared his equation might fail him once more.
He quickly finished his package and left the cabin hoping to escape the pain that could not be bandaged with mathematics. Clover and Francis would not see or hear from the mountain man again, for exactly one hour and thirty-four minutes later he was swiftly apprehended by the authorities as he approached the front counter of the Post Office. He was sentenced and sent to prison, dying there three years after his trial. He never spoke of his cabin in the woods and in fact, to the dismay of the media, he did not speak at all, dying in silence and very much alone.
Clover and Francis would never learn of these events, nor would they begrudge the mountain man, who was once a Wall Street mogul, as the rest of the world did. For seven days they guessed at their host’s whereabouts, but on the eighth day they said a silent prayer for him and began living in the cabin as if it was their own.
The mountain man had amassed a wide variety of food and supplies which allowed Clover and Francis to live quite happily and in solitude for over a year; during which time, their love blossomed into something mature and lasting.
On a particularly cold winter night, when the generator had failed to start, Francis was forced to arrange and light a handful of candles. He neither cared for the fire or the smell, but he found the flickering light to be quite romantic and upon seeing Clover he immediately took her in his arms and kissed her. She could not resist the euphoric feeling she associated with his lips, and immediately kissed him back. They quickly disrobed and stood naked, for the first time, in front of one another. Their love couldn’t have been more genuine – their knowledge and skill, however, was anything but proficient. Francis, having spent the majority of his days working in a small office or attempting to calm his agitated mother, knew very little about sex. Clover, given her isolation, knew even less.
Francis had seen a number of couples kiss before and he felt quite comfortable with the act so, for nearly an hour, the only body parts that touched were their slightly parted lips. Growing bolder, he pulled their bodies closer together – to the point of touching – though what action occurred afterward, he wasn’t sure and so he simply held her tighter.
Clover, excited and slightly startled by the naughtiness of being naked, suddenly recalled the man in the back of the truck who fled after seeing her. She wondered if Francis, like the man, would find her disgusting. She felt the urge to flee, but before she could stand, Francis wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tightly. They remained in that embrace until the sweat from their bodies mingled into one and they could no longer tell what body parts belonged to whom.
As the night progressed and the candles dimmed, the young couple would learn, through a series of affectionate and awkward gestures, how to make love – much like a child bending jigsaw pieces to fit a puzzle. It would not be the last of their lovemaking, though it would be the first and only act resulting in a child.
During the spring months, when Clover’s belly had grown large, she complained of pains in her back and legs. These pains she attributed to the lumpy mattress that had once belonged to the mountain man. Francis, diligently doting on his wife, hurried to alleviate her problem, but on closer inspection, he realized the mattress was not in fact a mattress, but a bundle of pillow cases tied together. Within each pillow case was the exact sum of $500,000.
Francis, deciding Clover’s health was all important, flung two pillow cases over his shoulder and, taking his wife’s hand, left the cabin immediately. They walked nearly a full day until reaching a small bank in a small plaza of a small city. Francis informed the teller of his intent to open a new account, but before he could show her the money, five masked gunmen entered, demanding to make a withdrawal – that is to say, they were robbing the place.
The five gunmen were in fact brothers – or more exactly, they shared the same mother. Not one of them knew the name or location of their father. The only concrete fact was that not one of their fathers was the same man. Their mother, who had spent her childhood dancing naked in a fenceless backyard, discovered the same act, if done near a long metal pole, could provide a substantial income. She made this discovery one night when she stole away in the back of her father’s car. Her father had an affinity for sex, alcohol, and public acts of indecency – that’s not to say he was a bad father, for he wasn’t. He, like his daughter, possessed a loose and wandering spirit which experienced the world in a free and feverously wonderful way. He had done his best to shield his daughter from such predilections, but her curiosity overcame his precautions and he unknowingly led her to a nudie bar on the outskirts of town.
When she spotted a group of beautiful and glittering women, she slipped out of the car and followed them into a back entrance. She was mesmerized by the incredible outfits they wore and how comfortably they wore them. The way they danced was inspiring and the young girl, unencumbered by moral taxation, fell in love with the nudie bar on the outskirts of town.
Her father, having gotten drunk and handsy with the half-naked girls, was relieved of his money and thrown out. If his decency had lasted only a few minutes longer, he would have discovered his young daughter dancing on stage in her underwear. The sex-starved men were amused and suddenly struck with a sense of adulation and love – a sense they had never linked with the nudie bar, or in fact experienced for quite some time. Their devotion to the young girl was unanimous and unwavering.
One of the exotic dancers would help the young girl dress and later drive her home, but for the young girl, the night was a revelation. She would return to the nudie bar years later, claiming the same applause and adulation she had as a child. Her eagerness and unrestrainable joy would make her one of the most successful dancers in the state. She loved everyone she met to the fullest of her soul’s capacity, both men and women – a choice which only helped to kindle her popularity. Her abundantly liberating love would quickly lead to the births of her five sons.
Though her exotic dancing career was successful, her income just barely supported the needs of her five children, so when a disgruntled and drunk patron beat her after she politely refused to get in his car, she would not have the money to fix her disfigured face
or scarred body. Her five sons, the oldest twenty-five, had acquired a small sum of money, but it would not be enough to cover even the most needed surgeries.
The patrons, still very much in love with her, had little interest in seeing her dance and her successful career was quickly lost as well as the money it provided. Financially ruined and physically grotesque, she never lost her joy for life or her passion to love. She would return to the nudie bar briefly to work behind the counter serving alcohol and appetizers, but she would never dance again except in the privacy of her own home.
The disgruntled and drunk patron, now sober, would return to the nudie bar to discover what he had done. His guilt overtook him. He withdrew all the money he possessed and, after giving it to the woman, he hung himself from the rafters in his garage. In his Will, he left all his possessions to the woman and her five sons. Though the sum was considerable, not even it was enough to pay the medical bills required to restore the woman’s beauty.
It was at this desperate stage that the five sons devised a plan. They first attempted to get a loan from the bank, but given their age and lack of credit, they were sadly and immediately declined. With their hopes quickly diminishing, they took the little money they had left and bought black masks, cowboy hats, and a matching set of guns – an act of continuity that would bolster their resolve and also give them the name: The Five Desperados.
Their politeness and old fashioned charm made them an immediate success with the media – the authorities, however, felt quite the opposite. After the fourth bank had been courteously drained of its funds, the police began heavily defending the remaining reserves. Four to seven armed officers escorted the reserves until they were safely and securely within each respective vault.
Clover and Francis, while waiting for a teller, counted six officers in the corner with a large lead dolly. The officers, armed with assault rifles and mustaches, vigilantly guarded the box. It was at this exact moment, and very unaware, that The Five Desperados pushed through the doors of the bank. They immediately saw the uniformed officers, and the youngest brother, in an overzealous moment of fear, fired a warning shot into the ceiling. The bullet, meant to insight paralysis but remain harmless, excelled at the first, but failed at the latter, for the youngest brother was unaware of the bank’s second story offices.
The Last Darling Page 2