by Kipjo Ewers
She released him walking away running her hands through her dreads in frustration. If that was their last conversation, that meant that the trail was now officially four years cold.
It was just then that she forgot to ask him the most obvious question hoping to start a new spark, “Ken…before you spoke to Rob that final time…did he ever talk to you about a…super soldier project?”
Sophia had lied to Charles, she had a very good idea how she was infected. She just did not want him falling deeper down the rabbit hole to hell with her, which was where she was going.
Ken wiped his eyes as a visible chill ran down his spine knowing full well what she was talking about, “No he did not…is…is that what?”
“You ever know me to crush ball bats with my bare hand before this?” she asked throwing some sarcasm in, “Three months after Rob came home he was going to a VA hospital for physical therapy for his injuries…the Michael E. DeBakey VA Medical Center. Within six months, he went from walking with a severe limp and barely able to raise his arm popping painkillers for the mind numbing back pain to doing a 3K run and bench-pressing almost two hundred and fifty pounds with considerable ease. I was so happy that he was getting better, I didn’t think anything of it…I thought it was the combination of physical therapy and his desire to get better.”
“Rob was always pretty tough…” Ken nodded acknowledging.
“What if it was something else that was making him better?” she questioned, “Something that’s now inside of me?”
“I think I talked to him once about his physical therapy before our last talk. He said it was coming along but he didn’t go into detail,” Ken confessed.
“Maybe they were testing this…drug or virus on him while he was there, and he found out something about it that was dangerous,” she began to formulate, “I’ve been having some tests run on it with the help of Charles Hampton, and so far other than the abilities I acquired there’s been no real negative effects. He said the night before he was killed, he was going to “burn” for what he did. Do you know what that might mean?”
Ken shrugged, “I don’t know Soph...Rob got blood on his hands while over there just like me…up till then both you and I know he’d never killed anyone before. If I have a nickel for every time I talked about burning in hell while in a drunken stupor…well you get the point.”
Ken turned looking both sheepish and ashamed at his wife who just looked at him unsure what to think of him, not because he served his country, but because of his lies and keeping the truth from her.
Realizing she was officially out of viable options, she came to one conclusion as she massaged her forehead, “Then there’s only one other option.”
“What?” Ken asked, “You’re going to break into the VA hospital?”
“No,” Sophia said sternly, “I don’t have to when I can go to the one person who can fill in all of the blanks.”
Ken already knew whom she was taking about by her tone, “General Matheson? You don’t think?”
“I think he’d be crazy enough to put Robert in such a program,” Sophia deduced, “And I think Robert would be stupid enough to enter such a program for his father. He recommended Rob to that hospital…he’s the key to all of this.”
“You don’t think he knew…about?,” Ken started to throw out a worst case scenario until Sophia cut him off, “I don’t want to think about what he knew or didn’t know…I’m at the point where I want some answers…my gut tells me he can give them to me.”
“Whoa wait…you’re really going to go asked him?!” Ken held his hands up motioning for her to think about what she planned to do, “You do know if he doesn’t know anything about this, this is the man who believes you brutally murdered his son, and this is the General we’re talking about.”
“And?” she said it with a “What’s he gonna do about it?” look, making the battle tested Marine all the more nervous.
“You do know what this means,” Scott quivered glancing at his wife and then at Sophia before looking down at his feet in shame and fear; “If everything as fucking insane as it is…is true.”
“What?” Sophia asked a bit scared to hear his answer.
“Our own government,” he hesitated to say it, “Is authorizing executions on its own people…killing United States citizens.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
September 5, 2008, she left early morning before Charles got up, not telling him where she was going. She left a note saying she would be back soon. It was a third lie. The second one, she told him after she let him in on what she learned when visiting with Ken and Elizabeth after making it back to his apartment late last night. He asked her what she was going to do, and she motioned to going to the VA hospital to follow leads on Robert’s treatment if there was any. She hated lying to him, but she did not want him to know what she had planned, because she knew he would either try to talk her out of it, or try to go with her. This was something she had to do alone.
Sophia’s stomach was in a knot as she walked through the luxurious neighborhood of West Lane heading to house address number seven. She was somewhat shocked that patrol cars had not pulled up already to ask her what in George Bush’s name she was doing in the neighborhood. She always dreaded coming here; it was intimidating; he was intimidating. General Bernard Matheson was as tough as a rusty nail and as daunting as a nuke. Sophia use to think he was a Sith Lord, because his mere presence made people uncomfortable, but that was what you would expect from the man with a billion yard stare who earned his stars and stripes on multiple fields of battle.
With her luck, he probably was not home; chances are he was at Fort Bliss down either in El Paseo, or the Marine Barracks in Washington DC.
No go as she walked up to the house, sitting in the driveway among other cars was his restored 1965 Pontiac GTO; if he was in El Paseo he would have driven it, and if he was in DC it would have been in the garage covered up; the man’s routine was predictable after all these years.
Sophia’s blood however began to boil when she saw something else all too familiar. An extremely rare fully restored 1969 ZL1 Camaro, which was originally painted metallic sea blue, her favorite color; someone had bastardized it with a generic black and white color scene, she also recognized the license plate “SO FLY”.
“You son of a bitch,” she sneered in disgusted.
Among the vehicles was a black BMW X5 SUV, she found it kind of odd all the vehicles were there especially on a Friday; everyone who was on shore leave usually came over for traditional family dinner on Sunday. It looked like everyone was there except Marcus the eldest and his family, he was no doubt still over in Iraq, last she remembered he was a Sergeant First Class; which meant Alexis and Peter were in the house with their family, and she could not stand Peter.
She walked up the driveway taking her time to run her hand across the body of the ZL1. Images of the days and nights Robert toiled away working on that car, and the day he showed her the new paint color, which she picked out, filled her head. She was officially going in angry, which was probably not the logical way to go considering she was walking into her former in-laws’ house the convicted murderer of their son and brother; now accusing their husband and father of knowing who the real killers are. However, after bearing witness to the constant violation of her shit, tact was officially out the window at this point.
She stood at the doorway of the Brick Veneer Stucco mini mansion type home; the fear crept back sitting on her shoulder. After her episode at Ken’s house last night she was not sure what state she would be in walking into what use to be her “third home”. Aside from the car, which she purposely channeled, memories did not attempt to bombard her like before if she went to some place familiar. Apparently she was either able to control or suppress it better. It appeared to manifest itself in extreme cases of distress.
It did help that while Charles slept during the night, she practiced until dawn how to better control it. Sitting in a meditative state she learned in h
er Yoga classes she used to take, she moved through memories as if watching television.
She even learned that she could fast forward, reverse, and even freeze a memory with a simple thought to look at it in detail. The focus of her lesson was to shut it off, and keep it shut unless needed. She could not afford to have a repeat at Ken’s house.
She remembered the last time she saw any of these people they were sitting opposite from her behind the prosecution rejoicing when she received the death sentence, all except Mrs. Matheson, she actually cried when she heard the verdict, and not of joy; on that day she was losing another child.
There would be no wondering how they would react to see a ghost standing before them, it was happening now. She pressed the button waiting for the bell like music to play through, the fact that a memory did not leap out at her was a good sign she had it locked down. She pressed it again; she was going to go for number three when she heard the old woman’s voice, “I’m coming! Hold on! I’m coming!”
A sweaty chill washed over Sophia, she had time to blitz out of there, find another time and place to confront General Matheson; coming too far was what rooted her in her place; slowly she bit her lower lip as the glass front double Oakwood doors opened. Mrs. Matheson was the same as she remembered her, a little bit older, but the same. Her black and silver hair was cut in a bob style, she still worn the silver spectacles with the chain that her mother gave to her; she was dressed like a typical grandmother in her pink Polo shirt, and baggy grandmother jeans; Sophia got a bit emotional when she saw her smiling again.
“Yes…how may I help you?” Mrs. Matheson asked adjusting her spectacles.
“Hi…ma...” Sophia said nervously shaking in her Converse.
Mrs. Matheson’s smile changed to fear and bewilderment, she was not that old that she could not recognize a voice; especially a voice that still called her “ma” like that. Her voice quivered as she said the name, “Sophia?”
She remembered that her hood was still on as she pulled it from her face; it was clear that her new height and appearance threw Mrs. Matheson off. There was no mistaking that it was her former daughter-in-law now standing in front of her at her very door. Mrs. Matheson feeling a bit faint lost her footing underneath her.
Sophia was fast enough to catch her so she did not hurt herself, “I got you ma…I got you…”
Sophia walked her over to the foyer area setting her down in the sitting chair stationed there. She then checked her pulse to make sure she was not having a heart attack, “You feeling any tightness in your chest, any pain in your arms or legs; or shortness of breath?”
“No…no…,” she was so shocked to see Sophia actually kneeling there before her she just responded without realizing what she was saying. It was a surreal moment for both of them.
Until an extremely nasty voice ruined it all, “Get the hell away from my mother!”
She did not even have to turn to see who it was, his voice was like battery acid to her brain, and just thinking about the ZL1 outside only pissed her off even more.
“Hello Pete…,” she said as her nose twitched while she rose to her feet.
Peter Matheson was the fighter pilot of the family; he was also the designated asshole, forever vying for his father’s affirmation and respect, sometimes at the expense of others.
General Matheson had a great respect for all branches of the military considering his bloodline ran through all of them, but he was a Marine, and there would always be a special place in his heart for the Corps, and anyone of his family that took up the mantle of the Corps. Robert was the only one to do so.
Both Marcus and Alexis joined the Army, while Peter joined the Air Force. Despite his other despicable traits, which entailed womanizing, unhealthy competitiveness, and all-around jerk for no good reason, he had the aptitude to fly with near unrivaled precision.
Personally Sophia believed the Master Sergeant was just too puss to survive actual combat on the ground, which is why he opted to become a Nintendo pilot. She had taken great pleasure to remind him of that over the years whenever he had crossed the line of getting on her last nerve.
As she turned to face him, she saw the gang was all there, Alexis, her husband Jeff, who happened to be a Navy Seal. Peter, and his girlfriend Trisha (No military affiliation unless gold-digger became one in the last four years she was locked up), who was now shock of all shocks apparently Mrs. Peter Matheson; oh yeah she remembered. She could not stand Trisha either.
“I see you’re still swinging for daddy’s nutsack by your teeth,” she smiled firing off the first insult, “Tell me…how long was my husband in the ground before you violated his blood, sweat and, tears with your grubby little paws?”
“That’s my brother’s car,” he snapped back at her, “He would have wanted me to have it!”
“No…he…did…not…” she narrowed her eyes with the urge to pounce on him.
“Why are you here Sophia?” Alexis the youngest and only daughter jumped in between the childish argument demanding an answer, “How could you come here after what you did?”
Sophia softened a bit when Alexis stepped in, she loved Alexis like her little sister, she was one of her bridesmaids; Alexis did not believe Sophia was capable of killing Robert; she knew how much she loved him; until the trial when she saw the video footage of the bank, the ATM, and at the hotel. She got up screaming for her death sobbing in tears feeling utterly betrayed; never more did Sophia want to die on the spot then on that day.
“I came here to see the General,” she softened up a bit when she spoke to her, “And I’m not leaving here till I speak to him…I believe he knows what happened to Robert…”
“We all know what happened to Robert,” butted in Trisha out of nowhere snapping her neck, “He married a greedy murdering bitch like you…”
“Wha ya call me?! Bitch?! Say it again…I dare you,” Sophia shifted into the Caribbean slang of her father, “Say it again and see what happens to you? Ya jancrow dog you. Say it again!”
It was not as if no one ever called her the B-word before, even in jest. It was just the way Trisha said it that made her want to tear someone, namely her apart. Oh yeah she remembered, she did not like her.
“I ain’t afraid of you!” she fired back, which she actually rather was.
“Yah little what’s it not! Ya should be!” Sophia returned warning her, “Yah really should be!”
“Sophia…look...I don’t know how you managed to escape,” Jeff jumped in trying to be the voice of reason, “But you need to turn yourself in.”
“Thanks for the advice Jeff, but for your information I didn’t just escape from prison,” she said deciding to educate him, “I was executed, shot several times, and I fought my way out taking on at least fifty of Gatesville’s finest…so no…I’m not going “back to prison”. Now I’m tired of this “Soul Food” shit…Where is Bernard?! And don’t tell me he’s not here I saw the GTO outside. Where are you Bernard?! Bring your sorry ashy-crusted ass out here! We need to talk! Bernard!”
Noted to all in and out of the household especially Sophia, General Matheson despised two things, one was disorder, especially in his house; and the other was someone other than Mrs. Matheson calling him by his first name.
“How dare you come in this house…?” the man himself finally stood before her.
Well a good distance from her; he still had a stone chiseled demeanor about him that commanded respect; physically he looked like he could still run a 3K with some relative easy, but his age was showing; he seemed smaller in his blue Polo shirt, tan Khaki pants, and black suede slippers. Or it could just be that Sophia had gotten bigger, which she found weird that no one commented on remembering what she originally looked like.
“I dare because I believe you know who really killed Robert,” she said getting to the point, “And I believe you know where I can find them.”
“Bernard,” Mrs. Matheson asked completely confused about what was going on, “What…what is she t
alking about?”