by Jack July
Leon was at home taking care of Sam when the phone rang. “Cuz, it’s me.”
“Carla Jo okay?”
“’Bout the same.”
“What’s goin on?’
“Business.”
Business? Leon’s blood ran cold. He wasn’t talking to Jack anymore. He was talking to Hatchet Jack, terror of the Mekong Delta. “Whatcha need?”
“That old green truck behind the barn still run?”
“Yep, it’s got garbage in the bed; I use it to go to the dump.”
“It’s got a Farm Truck plate on it, right?”
“Yep.”
“Check the lights, make sure there is no reason for the highwayman (State Trooper) to stop us.”
Us? “I’ll handle it.”
“I will be there at thirteen hundred hours.” Leon started to say something, when he heard the dial tone. Jack was on the move.
Jack next called Tommy Lee at the impound lot. “Tommy, it’s Jack.”
“Yeah man, what’s goin’ on?”
“Need ya to take the boys out for lunch, turn off the cameras and keep the dogs put up.”
“Anything I can help ya with?”
“Nope. I ain’t gonna be there, never was there, understand?”
“Understand.”
“I owe ya.”
“You don’t owe me shit.”
“Thanks Tommy,”
“How’s Carla Jo?”
“Fightin’.”
“Prayin’ for ya.”
“Thanks.”
Jack figured as soon as Sitzberger was released, he would hit Interstate 20 East. He had to find the perfect spot for a “discussion.”
After visiting Tommy Lee’s, he headed northeast to a rural area where an old mine was located. He walked the woods until he found what he was looking for. He slung the rope over the branch and hung the block and tackle. He wasn’t happy, sad or angry. He was operating, emotionless, preparing, thinking about what could go wrong. Step by step, event by event, plan B and C should any part go wrong. It wouldn’t be personal until later.
Jack was late getting to Leon’s; when he checked his watch it read 1:34. Leon was sitting on the porch with Sam, who was learning to cast a toy fishing rod without much success. Leon saw Jack pull his truck down by the barn. He tried to get his mind right. Off in the distance, he saw Micky exercising one of his horses. He gave a big arm wave and a shrill whistle.
Micky sighed and thought, Babysitting again. He had complained to his Ma about it once, but she wasn’t hearing it. She said, “Do you like being in this family?”
He nodded. “Aye, ah, yes, you know I do.”
“Good, because that’s part of being in this family. You don’t have to like it, but you do have to do it.” He turned Mathias, his horse, towards his grandpa’s barn.
Leon handed Sam up to Micky. He squeeled in delight and shouted out, “Micky! Mathias!”
Micky laughed. “Hi, Uncle Sam.”
“Carol will be home later. Thanks for taking care of him.”
“Aye, it’s what family does for family, right?”
Leon let out a sigh and looked past Micky, then turned his head to look at Jack. Almost melancholy, he replied, “Yeah, it’s what family does for family.”
Micky looked toward the barn and called out, “Hey Uncle Jack!”
Jack nodded and called out, “Micky.”
That didn’t seem right. Micky looked back and forth between the men. These were not the men he was used to, the ones that playfully pulled pranks on him, put him in a headlock and messed up his hair, called him funny names, pinched him on the leg, hard, laughed and said, “Gotta watch out for that ole mule.” He knew Carla Jo was hurt and he found it odd that Jack was even there. Curiosity set in, something Micky had a hard time controlling.
Dr. Earle looked like he was making some sort of list. He stopped, took off his glasses and began. “There are several ways to attempt memory recall. One of them is word association. I’m going to give you a word and you tell me the first thing that pops into your mind. Seems easy but it isn’t.”
Amy shrugged, “I have no problem telling you what’s on my mind.”
Dr. Earle shook his head. “You would think that, wouldn’t you? But the truth is, as humans, we have conditioned ourselves with a filter. That filter protects us from saying things that are embarrassing or hurtful to others. It also allows us to keep secrets. I want the first words, images or emotions. The very first impressions, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Dog.”
Amy tilted her head and thought while Doc earl tapped his pen on his clipboard three times, like he was keeping time. “Stop.”
Amy looked confused. “What?”
“That three seconds was your filter. I want it immediately; images, words and emotions. Now let’s try again.”
“Dog.”
“Bubba, loyal, furry, happy.”
Dr. Earle smiled and nodded. “Good. Now, what’s a Bubba?”
“Bubba attacked the boy that tried to kill me. My Uncle Jack’s dog. I’ve never been much of a crier, but when he died, it was hard.”
Hmm, back to that. “Mother.”
“I miss her. I think about her all the time. I can’t help it, I see her in the mirror. Sometimes when I go on missions, I color my hair like hers. I get to talk to her. I don’t want her memory to fade. I feel cheated that I don’t have her.”
“What would she think about you, what you do?”
“She would be proud of, well, some of it. Probably horrified by the rest. She was a good Christian woman. Right and wrong had no gray area for her.”
“Interesting.” Doc paused for a few moments. “Family.”
“Bogus, Micky, Daddy, Joseph, Sam, Carol, Uncle Jack, Aunt Carla Jo, Granny Patches, Kelly, my Mom, and of course, Katherine Claire.”
“Any significance to that order?”
“Not really, other than my family, Bogus, Micky and Katherine, will come first.”
That’s normal, now let’s pull a trigger. “Baby.”
“Katherine Claire.” Then she froze.
“Anything else?”
“No, just imagining her face, the combination of Bogus and me. I picture her with different color eyes and hair. Could be blonde or red, even dark, like my father’s.”
“How about her eyes?”
“Hazel, like her father. They have to be hazel.”
“Really? There are women that would kill to have your eyes. If you don’t mind me saying, not since Elizabeth Taylor have I seen anything close to what God gave you.”
“It’s a curse. People lock eyes with you and they think it gives them permission to approach you, compliment you. Talk to you. Men try to hit on you, women sometimes sneer at you. It’s a curse. I want strangers to stay away. I go so far as to use colored contacts when I’m on mission, unless of course, I’m trying to seduce someone. I don’t want that for her.”
“What about your husband?”
“They’re his, he makes them bright. He is the only reason I’m glad I have them.”
Dr. Earle made a few notes, looked up and said, “Fire.”
“Pain, stinging like Satan’s tongue, licking over and over, you can’t get it off, you can’t make it stop. Honest, final, purifying.”
“Honest?”
“Yeah, it will never be anything other than what it is.”
“Hmm, final?”
“Yes, you burn something, it is gone, returns to the dust.”
“Purifying?”
“Yeah, I’m sure it’s why in medieval times they burned people at the stake. For those moments when the flames come, before you are taken by death, your soul must open; all that is, comes out. For those moments, you are purified of all things, nothing else matters, just the fire.”
“Death.”
“Jesus.”
He let that word hang out there for a bit. “Is that it?”
“Yeah, when I think of death, I think of
Jesus. We get to see him, to hold his hand, to feel his love. Jesus.”
“Romania.”
“Dread. My body feels pain. My chest feels tight. I see a black cutain. I want to move it, pull it away.” She reached out with her hand. “But the more I reach, the farther away it gets. Then, I stop reaching and it gets closer. I can’t see anything, I can only feel things.”
Dr. Earle and Amy continued for a while with more pleasant visions, things to back her away from painful feelings. Flowers, deer—although he had forgotton she liked killing them. They stopped and had lunch. Association therapy did not achieve its desired result, although he did learn a few things. Doc knew what it would take, but he wasn’t sure if the method would take to her. It would be his last shot at success.
Chapter 27
Before Carla Jo’s accident, Joseph had rented the half-mile racetrack at the state fairgrounds to do some testing. He was ready to put it on hold until Carla Jo was healthy, but Jack wouldn’t allow it. Joseph stood with his arms crossed, watching his crew trying to make chassis adjustments. It was not going well.
Joe thought back to the day before, when he sat with Jack in the ICU next to Carla Jo, who remained unconscious. It occurred to Jack; Joseph should be somewhere else doing something else. “Boy, you ready to test?”
Joseph shook his head. “I was thinkin’ I’d wait till she’s better. Don’t feel right.”
Jack responded in a quiet but forceful voice, “Oh no. No, sir. That was the whole point of buying the company, building it up. She wants you to take your shot. Is the truck ready to test?”
“Yeah, the boys got it put together. Red’s been picking at it.”
“Red Farmer?”
“Yep.”
“Howdja get him to help ya?”
“He was sittin’ at the Bluebird havin’ breakfast and I asked. Now I cain’t get him out of the shop.”
“Well, there’s fifty years of stock car racin’ in that old head. He should be able to help ya.”
“Yeah. Ah, Uncle Jack, can I ask you somethin’?”
“Shoot.”
He looked at Carla Jo when he spoke. “Why did she do all this for me?”
“You want the truth?”
“Yeah.”
“She didn’t. She did it for your mother.”
Joseph sat back in the chair. “What? I don’t get it.”
“Well, there’s some family history you have yet to hear. Let’s just say there was a time when your aunt had nothing. Your mother gave her everything she had. When Katherine died, your aunt poured herself into the company and, well, you see where that went. At some point she decided the best she could do for your mother was to do for you kids. I’m a little surprised Amy hasn’t told you more.”
“It’s hard to get anything out of her ’bout those days.”
“Yeah, she has good reason. I’m sure if you sit her down one day and ask her, she’ll tell ya everything. What you need to do is get your ass out there and make us proud, make your family proud. Kick some ass, take some names and leave your fuckin’ pencil at the house, understand me boy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now go on, git.”
He stood up, leaned over and gave his aunt a kiss on the cheek. Patted his uncle on the shoulder. “Thank you, Uncle Jack.”
As he headed for the door, Jack stopped him. He though about what Carla Jo might say. “One more thing; no matter what happens, you keep a smile on your face, you be thankful, grateful and understand that attitude is what gets ya where you need to go.”
Joseph smiled. “Yes, sir.”
It was hard to keep that smile on his face. The truck was tight entering the turn, tight in the middle and loose coming off. Every time he got back on the gas coming out of the turn, he spun the tires. Red all but threw up his hands. “I’ve done everythin’ I know to do. These truck chassis don’t respond like the late models.”
Joseph heard a squeak as the back stretch gate opened. A black 1969 Camaro with tinted windows made its way across the track and parked next to Joseph’s hauler. Earl Spencer got out, spat on the ground, and said, “Boy, I’ve been watchin’ you from the back stretch. Y’all look like a monkey fuckin’ a football.”
Joseph’s eyes narrowed and jaw tightened. But after a few beats he took a deep breath and smiled. “I feel like a monkey fuckin’ a football.”
Earl laughed. “Mind if I pick at her for a bit?”
“I’d be grateful.”
Earl opened his trunk and pulled out a box. He sat it down at Joseph’s feet, opened it and pulled out one of four shock absorbers. “They’re marked for where they go, tell the boys to put em on. When you’re done, I want em back.”
Joseph looked into the box for a moment. He understood there were secrets when it came to shock tuning. “Wow, thanks.”
Earl looked over at Red and called out, “Hey, you old bastard, ain’t you dead yet?”
Red shot back, “I’ll outlive you, ya spoiled little shit.”
Earl laughed, walked over and gave Red a hug. “You can come by the shop anytime ya want.”
Red grinned. “I know. Y’all too pro-fessional and uptight for me.”
Earl nodded in agreement. “Yeah, seemed like I had more fun when I did it all myself.” He playfully threw his arm around Joseph’s neck. “It’s a steep learning curve. We’ll get ya set up. Then it’s up to you.”
“Thanks Earl.”
“That’s the way this business works. Someday I may need you to throw a block for me, understand?”
“Yep.”
“Good. How’s your sister?”
“My sister?”
“Oh yeah, one of the prettiest girls I’d ever seen, runnin around in that big block yellow truck.”
“She’s married and pregnant.”
“Figures, all the good ones get scooped up quick.”
“That’s funny, she said she had a crush on you but you never called.”
“That’s cause I was skeered of your Daddy and your Uncle Jack.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s a good damn reason.”
Micky walked Mathias back to the stall then called out for Athos. Athos smiled when he saw Sam. Micky plucked Sam from the saddle and handed him to Athos. The two of them had something in common. Sam had a bit of a speech problem. He went to speech therapy but still, he was sometimes hard to understand. Athos was still struggling a bit with English, so it could be difficult to figure out what either one of them was saying. However, they understood each other just fine. Micky put Mathias in the stall and gave him an apple. After hugging his neck, he walked out, shut the stall then turned to Athos and said, “I need to go look for something in the barn. I’ll be back.”
Athos nodded and took Sam up the steps to the porch where he had more toys than he could play with. Micky walked back to the barn and circled behind it. He stopped when he heard the voices. Leon was angry. “Goddammit, Jack, you’re sixty-four years old. You ain’t a SEAL no more. Let Gene handle it.”
In a cold monotone Jack responded, “I’ll always be a SEAL. If you don’t want to help me, just say so.”
“You know I’ll help ya, you know I will. I haven’t forgotten what you did for Amy.” How could he forget? He occasionally had nightmares about that night, including the screams when Jack poured gasoline on the tied up bodies of the people who attacked Amy, then lit the match.
Jack nodded. “We get old, we get soft. I know. But that doesn’t mean we don’t handle our business.”
“Alright, whatcha got planned.”
Jack studied his best friend for a moment. It was clear his heart wasn’t in it. But he needed his help. “Would it make any difference if I told you I’m not gonna kill him?”
Leon looked shocked. “Yes, no, I mean...you’re not?”
“Nope. Come on, we need to get going.”
As they stepped out of the barn, Leon saw Micky walking away in the distance. He nudged Jack and pointed. Jack nodded, “Yep, I knew he was there.”<
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“You did?”
“Yeah, saw his shadow through the boards. He heard exactly what I wanted him to hear.”
Amy sat on the back porch of Dr. Earle’s watching yet another beautiful sunset. Doc studied her from inside the house. He had one last tool to try. He wouldn’t let her know that; she didn’t need the pressure. “Amy, let’s get started.”
She returned to the living room and started to sit down but stopped. “Hold it, I have to go to the bathroom, again.”
Doc chuckled. When she returned, he began. “Amy, everything we have ever done has left a mark on our subconscious mind. Our subconscious mind is like a computer. It records everything we have ever experienced through the senses. In other words, it records everything we see, hear, touch, taste, smell and even everything we think. This is why I wish to try hypnosis.”
“Wait, you want to hypnotize me?”
“Yes, hypnosis is a valuable tool for assisting someone to remember past events. The technique I use is called regression. Hypnosis will bypass the conscious mind and access the subconscious mind, which is a vast storehouse of information. Even though you think you can’t remember, your subconscious mind records events and knows exactly what you had for dinner last night or a year ago.”
Amy thought for a moment. “Doc, I don’t think I’m comfortable being that out of control.”
“No, that’s not how it works. It’s not like the movies. You will not do anything, nor can I make you do anything you wouldn’t do otherwise.”
She sat deep in thought for a few moments. “Will it work?”
“That’s up to you. I need your total commitment. You have to want to be hypnotized.”
“Okay, I’ll do my best.”
“Good, good. Do you have any needs? Are you thirsty? Is the temperature okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
Doc turned off all the lights with exception of two oil lamps. He placed a small metronome on the end table to his right, released the arm and let it move back and forth. A muted tone was heard with every sweep of the arm. In a soft voice just above a whisper, Doc began. “I want you to focus on that arm, let your muscles relax. Empty your mind of all thoughts.” Doc waited for a couple minutes and continued, “Focus on the arm, the tone. Feel your heartbeat and breathing slow. There is nothing but the sound and the arm, sweeping back and forth, back and forth.” Amy always carried a bit of tension in her body. He saw her shoulders droop a bit. “There is no other sensation; you are floating, traveling far away to another time and another place.” A few minutes later he caught it: the blank stare, the vacuous eyes; she appeared to be under. “We are back in Romania, you are outside the orphanage. You want to get the children out. The smell of gas is getting stronger.” At that moment, doc released a small compressed canister that made a little hiss. The odor mimicked that of natural gas.