Panacea

by Brad Murray

  Lars and Letta shared a knowing glance.

  Emma stared back at the screen, absorbing the images that flashed - a series of battered vehicles and eerily empty cop cars with their red lights still flashing. Soft white smoke curled around demolished vehicles, over a debris-strewn ditch, and danced across the tires of an upside-down white pickup. Emma’s mind drifted along with the smoke, half listening to the overly enthusiastic, familiar cadence that seemingly every reporter must have learned in reporting school. Suddenly, Emma’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest.

  That white pickup. It looked a little too much like Jimmy’s.

  Emma covered her mouth with her hand and frantically searched the screen for another shot of the truck. But the accident scene faded and was replaced by a live shot. The young reporter’s teeth glinted brightly; her reporter-smile in odd conflict with the solemnity of the accident scene she was covering.

  “We’ll have a live update from the scene, tonight at ten o’clock. Reporting live from Interstate-44, this is Rebecca Bates, Team 4 News.”

  Emma huffed exasperatedly as the station transitioned to their lead anchor, a stoic white haired man with honest eyes and a tan complexion. To his right, a menacing graphic with sharply angled red and black letters cautioned “SEVERE THUNDERSTORM WARNING.” The station’s meteorologist entered stage left and jabbered animatedly, using his full repertoire of weather-geek speak. He glibly tossed out terms such as “supercells” and “wall clouds” and “squall lines” in front of an animated weather map, his lips moving a mile a minute. As a flurry of warnings scrolled across the bottom of the screen, the weather man pointed dubiously on the map to a red blobbed storm cell that was quickly approaching Springfield from the southwest.

  “Should we be taking shelter somewhere?” asked Letta. Letta had never experienced a Missouri summer thunderstorm. The electricity generated from the animated meteorologist and the foreboding weather graphics were enough to elevate Letta’s pulse.

  “Don’t worry,” said Emma, nervously chewing on her fingernails, “there’s nothing to get excited about until you hear them say ‘tornado warning.’ Nine times out of ten, it turns out to be nothing but a little rain and wind.”

  “Forgive me, Mrs. Porter,” replied Lars, “but you appear to be quite nervous.”

  “I’m not worried about the weather; we go through a half-dozen of these every spring. The accident…it looked like my son’s truck.”

  Lars put his hands on his hips and gazed at the television in deliberation. Contorting his lips to one side, his forehead scrunched in deep-set wrinkles.

  “Mrs. Porter, while I’m certain it is quite disconcerting as a mother to see your son’s auto in such a state, might I remind you that you talked to him on the phone less than two hours ago.”

  “Yes, but –“

  “And he seemed to be of good health, yes?”

  “Yeah.”

  Lars took a step closer, a charming smile filling his face.

  “Your son told the Sisters he was in a hospital, which may confirm that he was in fact in the accident on the interstate. He also said he would be here in two hours which means, first of all, he is fine, and secondly, if his estimate is accurate, he will be here very shortly. And, if my instinct is correct, Brumeux will not be far behind.”

  Emma breathed a sigh of relief. It was illogical for her to be concerned about the accident. After all, she had in fact just spoken with him. For a moment, her motherly instinct had overtaken her rationality and blurred the lines of logic.

  “Can you promise me that you will not hurt him? That you’re only after this Brumeux guy?”

  “Brumeux is our only concern, Mrs. Porter,” purred Letta. “Any moment your son will pull up in your driveway and you’ll be reunited. And he’ll be safe. Eventually, you’ll come to see that we’re not the villains here, Mrs. Porter. Despite the unfortunate circumstances that have left you with such a regretful first impression –“

  An enormous boom of thunder shook the house at its foundation. The lights flickered and the television went black. Letta let out a childlike shriek and instinctively covered her head.

  “Jaysus!” shouted one of the Sisters.

  “It’s alright,” started Emma, “just a little lightning and thunder. Nothin’ to be –“

  A low hum buzzed somewhere above the house. At first it sounded like another muffled rumble of thunder, but as it grew louder everyone sensed it was something different entirely. It was rhythmic – mechanical – like the droning of an engine or the buzz of a low flying –

  “Airplane,” pronounced a startled Letta. “And close.”

  Lars rubbed his chin. “Mrs. Porter,” he said, “does your Jimmy know how to fly?”

  Emma stammered and hesitated before answering. “I…I…not that I know of…you’re not thinking he flew here, are you? No, if Jimmy knew how to fly, I would know. It was probably just someone trying to get out of the storm.”

  “If he is on that plane, we will know very quickly,” said Lars. “Malvado is waiting outside. He’s quite cunning.”

  Lars tapped his ear, revealing a tiny earpiece in his left ear that, until that point, Emma hadn’t even noticed.

  “Malvado - status report please,” said Lars. After listening attentively for a few seconds, the old man raised his eyebrows.

  “Have you been able to locate the aircraft? Did it land safely? I see. Report back when you get a visual.”

  His expression became quite solemn and the color seemed to drain from his face.

  “Malvado believes the plane went down close by.”

  “Went down? As in crashed? What about my Jimmy – is he alright?”

  “We’ll know soon enough, Mrs. Porter. Malvado will report back once he’s able to locate the airplane.”

  Emma’s heart raced as she pondered the possibilities. She wouldn’t be able to handle another loss, for that she was certain. Her stomach dropped as the negative thoughts took root.

  Andy.

  Cooper.

  She’d been through so much over the last decade; she couldn’t bear the thought of going on without Jimmy.

  “Mrs. Porter,” said Letta, slowly rolling her wheelchair closer to Emma. “There’s no reason to get upset. We do not know anything yet about that airplane, nor do we know anything about the whereabouts of your son. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

  Emma nodded her head. Letta turned her attention to the Sisters.

  “Take your positions ladies. Something tells me we’re going to have guests soon.”

  Emma’s head jerked up in response, her eyebrows raised. She lowered her head and said a silent prayer. She prayed that if Jimmy were on that plane he had survived the landing. She opened her eyes briefly, a thought crossing her mind. A second prayer was needed – once again lowering her head, she prayed that if Jimmy had survived the landing, he would be able to survive Lars and Letta and their band of violent goons.

  26

  Today - May 29, 2011

  Rain drops spattered over the aluminum fuselage, though their intensity had lessoned. A clap of thunder stirred the airplane’s occupants to life. La’Roi grimaced and rubbed his forehead, leaning forward in his broken co-pilot’s seat. His fingertips met the anticipated warmth of liquid trickling from a shallow cut just above the brow line.

  “Shit,” he said softly, rubbing the small amount blood onto his pants. He was relieved the cut wasn’t serious. All in all, as he quickly surveyed the rest of his body, he’d come out relatively unscathed. Immediately, his concern shifted to the others; the paramedic in him taking over.

  “Everybody alright?”

  Jenny groaned faintly as she unlocked her seatbelt. She rolled her head in a circular motion the way swimmers do before hitting the pool, and rubbed the back of her neck with one hand. Her faced twisted up in pain as she lowered her chin to her chest, stretching her neck.

  “Jacked my neck up a little bit,” said Jenny.

  “Here, let me
see,” said La’Roi. He ran his hands over the neck and down the spinal cord.

  “Headache?”

  “No.”

  “Dizziness?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Probably just minor whiplash. But we need to get you checked out under proper light.”

  He finished with Jenny and turned to face the back seats.

  “How ‘bout you jackasses? All good?”

  Jimmy and Andy nodded in unison.

  “I’ve been in a car wreck and plane wreck all in the same day,” Jimmy contemplated aloud.

  “Been a helluva day hasn’t it?” La’Roi agreed. “Mine started with zombie rabbits and has only gotten weirder from there. ’Bout met my maker after getting gassed, been flown around two damn states in helicopters and jets, and now here I am in a plane crash with you fine folks.”

  “Day’s not over yet,” smiled Andy.

  “I know,” said La’Roi dryly. “And I have a bad feeling we’re just getting warmed up.”

  Though the storm was still throwing a nasty temper tantrum, it had begun to let up. The pings of raindrops slowed their tempo and the trees, which only moments before appeared ready to uproot, were relatively steady now, standing steadfastly against the weakening winds.

  “Storm’s letting up,” said Jenny. “I’m going to survey the perimeter of the house. You guys stay here til I get back.”

  “What if you don’t come back?” asked La’Roi.

  Jenny stared at him for a second, blinked, and without expression said, “Then run. Protect Jimmy at all costs. He’s the one they want.”

  “We’re not running from anyone,” said Jimmy. “They’ve got mom.”

  “Jimmy –“ Jenny started a rebuttal.

  “There’s no point in arguing,” Andy intercepted. “We’re both going to get Emma – whether you’re with us or not.”

  Jenny huffed exasperatedly. “Fine,” she said. She leaned forward and pulled out a handgun from an ankle holster that had been hidden by her pants. “But give me ten minutes. If I’m not back by then, you’re on your own.”

  She took one last look over the handgun and opened the cockpit door. She jumped out onto the ground and started to close the door but caught herself. Leaning into the cockpit, she locked eyes intently with Jimmy.

  “I know it’s your mom, but be careful - the world can’t afford to lose you.”

  She smiled, blinked her big blue eyes, and disappeared into the darkness of the trees.

  The three men sat in silence for a few minutes, the seconds drawing out like hours. Attempting to break the building tension, La’Roi turned in his seat to face Jimmy.

  “She’s something else, isn’t she, Jimmy? A real firecracker. I think she likes you.”

  Jimmy felt his face flush. “Come on, man. No she doesn’t. Besides, now isn’t exactly the time to be worrying about it.”

  “It’s always the right time,” smiled Andy. “Especially with a girl like that. Women like Jenny don’t just fall into your life every day. If you’re fortunate enough, like I was, to have one of heaven’s true goddesses cross your path…well, you’d better damn well give it your all to make her yours.”

  “Aren’t there more important things to worry about right now? Like saving Mom?”

  “We’ve got several minutes to kill before Jenny comes back,” said Andy. “Besides, you could use the advice.”

  “Ah shit,” Jimmy protested.

  “Yeah Jimmy, I’ve got some pointers for you alright,” said La’Roi, smiling from ear to ear.

  “Fine,” huffed Jimmy exasperatedly. “I guess its better than sitting here counting the seconds. Lay it on me.”

  “My first piece of advice,” said La’Roi, “is to put one foot in front of the other.”

  “What?”

  “What I mean is - don’t fall on your ass in front of the lady you’re trying to impress. I saw you, Mr. Suave, tryin’ to play it cool, skippin’ down those steps when you got out of the jet…”

  “Shut up man,” Jimmy interrupted, half smiling.

  “What’s this?” asked Andy. “What happened?”

  “Mister Smooth here made a helluva first impression. We rolled up in a private jet, like we’re on the cover of GQ or somethin’. I come out first, do the meet-n-greet with Brumeux and the lovely Jenny. I’m playin’ it cool, like I’m used to hoppin’ ‘round the globe in jets – no big deal, right? Well, out pops your boy from the top step, surveyin’ the scene. But then he sees that blonde hair, so he prances down the steps like he’s some kind of show pony, struttin’ his stuff.“

  “Come on,” Jimmy chuckled.

  “When he gets to the bottom his foot catches,” La’Roi continued, laughing as he spoke. “Wasn’t enough to send him to the ground, just enough to knock him off stride. But here’s the best part – after he trips he picks up into a light jog. Like nothin’ had ever happened. He jogs over the rest of the way to her like he meant to; like he had something to say to her that couldn’t wait long enough for him to just walk his ass over there.”

  All three men snickered. Jimmy eyed his father, who was leaning forward in his chair, laughing. And in that moment, it struck Jimmy that it was the first time he had shared a laugh with his father since boyhood.

  “Yeah, well at least she didn’t seem to notice,” said Jimmy.

  “She sure as hell noticed,” said La’Roi. “But for some reason I think she actually took a liking to you because of it. I think you may have clumsied your way into her heart.”

  “I made an ass out of myself more than once trying to impress your mother,” said Andy. “I must have done it a hundred times even after we had said our “I-do’s.” Hell, even happened the night you were born.”

  “Oh yeah?” said Jimmy, one eyebrow raised.

  Andy recounted the night of Jimmy’s birth, closing with the scene of him spilling off the front hood and onto the hospital’s driveway.

  “Wait a minute,” said La’Roi, who looked at Andy like he was the village idiot. “You thought it would be a good idea to pull a Dukes of Hazzard razzle-dazzle move when your wife was in full-blown labor?”

  “Yeah. I know. Stupid, wasn’t it?”

  The three of them laughed and Andy didn’t mind that it was at his expense. Soon the laughter died down and the three men became quiet, reflecting in their own thoughts.

  “Crazy the lengths we will go to just to impress a woman,” said Andy.

  “Yeah, I wrote a poem to impress a girl once,” said La’Roi, shaking his head in shame. “She was the cutest little honey you ever did see. Monique. We were at this house party one night. She was standing there in the corner lookin’ all spectacular – like she was straight out of a dream. I had to take my shot. Course, I had a few beers in me and through the liquid courage I decided I would write her a poem and read it to her right there on the spot. I was gonna seize the moment, let her know how I felt.”

  “Wow, that’s ballsy,” said Jimmy. “Was the poem any good?”

  “Corniest shit you ever heard in your life. And the worst part was that I was so focused on her gorgeous face and concentrating so hard on reading it right that I didn’t notice everyone else in the room was listening too. All my so-called buddies laughed their asses off at me. They gave me crap about it for weeks after.”

  “But worth it ‘cuz you got the girl though,” said Jimmy. “You did you get the girl, right?”

  “Never talked to her again in my life,” said La’Roi, expressionless. “I was embarrassed. And pissed at myself for embarrassin’ her too. After that, I could never bring myself to talk to her again. Always wished I had though.”

  “With Emma, I didn’t care what anyone else thought or said. I just kept at it until she agreed to go on a date with me.”

  Jimmy grinned. It was like he was ten years old again, comforted by stories about his parents’ and their pre-Jimmy lives. He’d always enjoyed those stories as a child; for in some inexplicable reason they made him feel safe,
as if sheltered under an impenetrable bond. And now, though he was a grown man, those same warm feelings had returned.

  “Do you know what happened to Monique?” asked Andy.

  “Nah,” said La’Roi, his voice distant. “I guess I did hear once a few years back she had moved home to St. Louis. Probably married some rich doctor and has a mess of kids, living the country club lifestyle. Probably best for her that I stayed out of her life. No wine and caviar in your future if you’re married to one La’Roi Dawkins.”

  “You don’t know that,” said Andy. “You saw her standing in that corner and you went for it. That’s what life is all about right there.”

  “Yeah, well I struck out.”

  “At least you swung. And from the sound of it, I’m not so sure you did strike out. Sounds like you swung and missed at the first pitch, then walked off the field.”

  La’Roi swallowed and gazed out the window. A flash of lightning revealed nothing but more trees as he strained to see Jenny. He was stewing under the surface, annoyed that a man he barely knew was preaching to him about his life and his love. It was a sensitive subject, and one in which La’Roi had spent a great deal of time on in his own head. Monique never quite left his mind. She was always there in the backdrop to be compared against any girl who had ever shown the slightest interest in him. And they never measured up. Perhaps, La’Roi concluded, he had placed Monique on a pedestal, exalted her to a position of perfection to which she had become the unattainable standard-bearer. His love life, he surmised, was doomed to fail and therefore he never tried very hard to work at it.

  “Look, La’Roi,” continued Andy. “I’m not trying to piss you off. I’m giving you the same advice I’d give my boys. Brumeux took my life away from me. And during all that time, each and every single day, I prayed that I could spend just five more minutes with Emma. Get just one more moment with my boys. I tormented myself that I hadn’t used my time with them to the fullest; regretted all the instances I hadn’t paid them my undivided attention. In the end, it’s taught me that we all have such little time, and you don’t know when your clock is gonna hit zero. Today I have my son again, and soon I’ll have Emma. I’m going to do everything in my power to savor each moment.”