by Jack July
He was unsure about reaching for it so she folded it in half and jammed it in his shirt pocket. “You, walk.” She pointed down the road. “Walk for a half hour, thirty minutes, do not look back. Understand?”
“Yes, yes. Walk thirty minutes.”
“Come back and report it stolen, understand?’
“Yes, yes.”
“Good. Come back early and I will kill you. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, go.”
He turned and walked through the lot toward the road.
Fenian climbed up into the cab and took the keys from Cody. The layout of the controls was not all that different from the Pete she’d learned in. Fenian was taller than the driver so she moved the seat back and let a little air out of it, lowering it a few inches. She stuffed the clutch to the floor, made sure it was in neutral and cranked it up. There were not two plungers to control the airbrakes on the dash like a tractor-trailer, but only one. After making sure the airbrake gauge was reading out of the red low air pressure zone, she pushed it in to release the parking brakes, slid the ten-speed transmission into second gear and slowly let out the clutch. She smartly shifted up through the box, with an occasional scratching sound heard from the gears when she tried to shift a little too soon.
Cody looked at her, impressed. “You know how to float a ten speed?”
Fenian looked at him, confused. “I don’t know what that means. All I remember is Mr. Randolph yellin’, ‘GITCHA ANOTHER GEAR!’”
After flipping up the switch on the shifter for high range, she shifted into sixth and rolled onto the highway. “Cody, call for some help and get us some directions for back roads. I want off this highway. Then call Honest Abe and—” She gagged as the coke crammed into her sinus cavity released and drained down the back of her throat. She felt her chest thump as it hit her heart like a hammer, “OH GOD! Give me some water.”
Cody laughed. “Drainage?”
“What?”
“Coke fell down the back of your throat.’
“Yeah, wow! I’m, I’m ready to fight.”
“You better be.” Cody looked at her arm as she shifted, and he could see the blisters coming up. “Hey, how burned are you? Are you feelin’ that?”
“Yeah, yeah I feel it. I’d scream or cry if it would help. But I understand.” Her head began to bob a little as the emotions of a psychopathic warrior let go. “Ya see, this is what the Lord wants for me. He wants me to feel it. He wants me understand what those babies felt, WHAT THE BABIES FELT CODY! YOU GET IT? YOU GET ME! I WANT THIS PAIN, I’M GONNA TAKE THIS PAIN AND PASS IT TO THE GUILTY. THE LORD WILL HAVE HIS VENGANCE, DO YOU HEAR ME?”
Cody sighed. “We’re gonna die, aren’t we?”
“Maybe. Pull out those two MP5s and and check ’em for me.” Then she began to sing. “Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord…”
Dr. Earle decided this session was over when the singing started. “Amy, listen, one, two, three. Come back to me.”
Amy sat up and looked around the room. She refocused on Doc Earle and shook her head. “Oh sweet Jesus. I stepped outside my mind, didn’t I?”
Dr. Earle gave her an understanding smile. “Just a bit.”
Chapter 31
Micky jogged out the front of Rock Creek Preparatory School, opened the back door to Mr. Princeton’s Land Rover, dropped his backpack and stuck his head in the side window. “Mr. Princeton?”
“Yes, Sir Micky.”
“I’m going to speak to a friend in the parking lot. I shall return shortly.”
“Very well. With whom would you be speaking?”
“Just a friend. Be right back.” He turned and jogged to the parking lot. Princeton moved the vehicle so he could keep Micky in sight. He shook his head in disapproval as Micky slid into the passenger side of the red Mustang GT.
“Micky!” Mary Ann squealed with excitement. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. He thought about pushing her away. But something about the cherry flavored lip-gloss, the smell of her hair, and her tongue, tasting of strong spearmint, would not allow it.
She stopped and whispered to him, “I’ve missed you. Have you missed me?”
After catching his breath, he replied, “Aye, you know I have, but…”
She pulled away from him. “But what?”
Micky took a deep breath. “I will not be one of your boyfriends. I will be your only boyfriend, or we will not be together.” He looked her in the eye just before she looked away and thought, There, I said it.
She put on the well-practiced hurt face she used as a weapon on family and friends alike. Tears filled the corners of her eyes. “I have not loved anyone but you since we first met.”
Micky wondered if his friend could have been lying about seeing her with another boy. No, he reasoned, there was nothing for him to gain by lying. “Then why do you ignore me in school? Other girls let their boyfriends hold their hands, sneak kisses, but you pretend that I don’t exist. Why?”
“I am the granddaughter of a congressman. I have to play the innocent virgin princess at all times. Do you know how hard that is?”
Micky was familiar with what was expected of European royals. He thought, Maybe this is the version of American royalty? Then he remembered why he was sitting with her in the first place. “What’s that like? I mean, tell me about your grandfather.”
Her face turned sour. “Do you really want to know?”
“Yes, yes I do.”
“Fine. I rarely see him, mostly at family gatherings. He ignores me unless he’s telling me how pretty I am and how I’m gonna marry a rich man. He sends me nice gifts for my birthday and Christmas. Other than that, he’s all about being important.”
“He doesn’t take you fishing, shooting guns or out to dinner, just the two of you?”
“I went fishing with him once when I was little. He invited us out to his big house on the river. The photographers came and took pictures. When they finished, he got up and left, didn’t even say goodbye. I saw us on TV a couple of weeks later. He used us for a political campaign ad.”
“That’s terrible.”
“My dad is just like him. My mom checked out. She drinks, a lot. She smiles and goes through the motions. We know it’s not real. It’s never real. My sister and I just kind of...do our own thing, as long as we ‘don’t embarrass the family.’“
Micky tried to remember his real parents and what living with them was like. He had very few memories of them. But now? His family that lived up on Stringhill Road was like nothing he could have imagined. His Ma adored him unconditionally; his Grandfather spent time with him and taught him things about the woods, outdoor sports and life. Bogus talked to him about business and how to conduct and carry one’s self. Princeton talked about heritage and wisdom. His Uncle Jack taught him how to have fun and not take life too seriously. There were so many others that all had time for him: his Aunt Carla Jo, Joseph and Kelly. He began to feel sorry for Mary Ann.
He reached for her hand. “I know how you feel. I was alone once; my parents are gone and for a few years, I lived on the streets in the cities of Ireland. Lady Amy took me in and gave me a family. I would never betray or hurt them. I would protect them with everything I have. When I love someone, it means something, I give my all. Right now I don’t trust you enough to give you that. But, maybe, someday? Maybe we can spend time together and see.”
Mary Ann seemed a little confused. No, or a semblance of no, was not something she was used to hearing. “Okay, we’ll see. Maybe we can ride horses? Go to that place by the creek?”
Micky nodded and smiled. “Seems like a good place to start.”
She smiled and kissed him again. Micky felt strong, like he had played with the red velvet ant without being stung. “I have to go.”
“Call me.”
“I will.”
He climbed out of the car and looked for the land rover, but it wasn’t there. He turned around and saw Mr. Princeton
staring through the windshield. He had parked in the space directly behind him. Micky jumped in the Land Rover and gave Mr. Princeton a coy smile. Mr. Princeton nodded. “Playing with fire again, Sir Micky?”
“I have given this thought. There is something about her I really like, something I see. I can’t explain it.”
As Princeton left the parking lot, he smiled and glanced up in the mirror. “Well my lad, let me explain it to you. You see blonde hair, blue eyes, a mature figure and ample bosoms.”
“No, there’s more to it than that.”
“Really? Did I ever tell you about the red-headed bar maid that I was smitten with as a young soldier?”
Micky sighed and rolled his eyes. “No, but I’m quite sure you’re going to.”
“It was in the summer of ‘77’. It was brutally hot…”
Jack kept having flashbacks of Vietnam: the North Vietnamese Colonel bound in the back of the deuce-and-a-half, bouncing down some trail in the jungle. The righteous feeling of inflicting pain on the animal that had murdered dozens of women and children as payback for talking to the American military. Those who gave the orders always felt untouchable and innocent, as if their distance from the atrocity kept them blameless. It was soon made clear to them in a storm of blood, piss, shit and broken bones that they were wrong.
The brakes squeaked on the old Ford as it came to a halt next to the abandoned mine. Jack caught the smell of decomposing flesh and cracked a little smile. After opening the cap and tailgate, he grabbed Lamont by the feet and dragged them over the edge of the tailgate, cut the rope, pulled him the rest of the way out and stood him up. Lamont was making noises through the gag, grunts and whines, sniffing and snorting snot through his nose. After putting a burlap bag over his head, Jack marched him through the woods. When he got where he needed to be, he threw Lamont to the ground face down, grabbed his feet and pulled until Lamont straddled a medium sized tree. Jack tied his feet together behind the tree, pulled his body up until his back was flat against the other side and wrapped the rope under his arms, across his chest and around the tree until he was immobile. He pulled the burlap sack from his head and tore off the gag, leaving Lamont fifteen feet away from the hanging, half-eaten corpse of Paul Sitzberger. “You remember Mr. Sitzberger? I reckon I’ll let you two get reacquainted. I’ll be right back.”
Lamont’s shrill scream was quickly interrupted by retching and vomiting. Jack returned to the truck for a five-gallon bucket. On his way back, he picked up a two-foot long stick. He flipped the bucket upside down, took out his knife, and sat while artfully cleaning the leaves from the stick and whittling a sharp point. Lamont was begging and talking to Jesus while Jack sat quietly. Jack finished the stick and looked up. “Mr. Hughes, I have a question. Knowing what you know about my family and our way of life, what made you think it was good idea to try to kill my wife?”
Just like Sitzberger, he spewed a barrage of “I’m sorry, it was an accident, please forgive me,” and “I’ll do anything.” Jack barely heard any of it. He was busy trying to decide how he would go about the final cleansing of Lamont’s dirty soul. Jack let him go on until he broke down and began to cry. Then Jack looked up at him again. “I need to know who else was involved with this. Who told you to go after my family?”
Lamont’s head jerked back up to look at Jack, finally sensing a glimmer of hope that he might survive. “I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you the whole story, please, just let me go. I’ll help you, I’ll tell the police, whatever you need, please, please…” He broke down again and began to sob.
“I’ll think about it. Talk.”
“It was Congressman Stone. He hates the Braxtons. I don’t know why. That’s all I know, okay? Are we good now? Okay?”
Jack nodded. “Feels good, don’t it? Tellin’ the truth?” He reached down and picked up the rag. He folded it and rolled it, got up and stuck it back in Lamont’s mouth. Instead of using duct tape to secure the gag, he used rope tied around his head so he could breathe through his mouth. He didn’t want him to suffocate. Jack pulled the bucket up and sat in front of him, pulled a rubber glove from his pocket, put it on his left hand, and began to tell a story.
“When I was in Vietnam, we had an ole boy in our squad. He was a Sioux Injun from Minnesota. Senior Chief called him Timber Nigger. We called him Injun Joe. He was quiet, smart and one of the most brutal motherfuckers I have ever met. When he’d get drunk, he’d tell us stories of his granddaddy and great granddaddy and what they did to the white man. Ya see, folks think Indians are these quiet, peaceful people, live in teepees, huntin’, fishin’, becomin’ one with nature, all that bullshit. Not exactly. Injun Joe taught us how to kill people so it would take a long time. So they could think about what they’ve done. I don’t think Satan himself could think up some of that shit. Lamont? Do you know how many feet of intestine are in a man?”
Lamont thrashed, screaming through the gag, his eyes filled with horror. Jack cut open his shirt, slit his belly, and with a gloved hand, pulled out his small intestine. “It’s about twenty feet.” Jack stretched his intestine out about ten feet in front of him, took the sharpened stick and using the handle of the knife, pounded it into the ground.
“Later on this evening, the critters are gonna smell this. You’ll be able to watch em as they eat their way to your belly. I want you think about what a mistake it was to fuck with my family. Goodbye Mr. Hughes.” Jack picked up the bucket, turned and walked back to the truck.
Dr. Earle and Amy finished dinner. She took her glass of juice and walked to the back deck with a blanket. After cleaning the kitchen, he joined her and sat down. “How are you feeling?”
“Still waiting to feel better.”
He gave her an understanding smile. “I promise, you are doing very well. We could finish up this evening, if you would like.”
“No, I’m wore out. I just need to relax.”
“Most people feel a great sense of relaxation after being hypnotized. I’m surprised you feel that way.”
“Most people have enough common sense not to do drugs when they’re pregnant. Most people have enough common sense to know when enough is enough, Most people don’t get….” Her eyes went misty and her chin quivered, “...get their partner killed. Cody’s dead, isn’t he?”
“So, it’s all come back?”
“Yeah, all of it. Adele said I almost got Cody killed, but I remember him not making it. I thought he—”
He interrupted, “Cody is alive.”
Her head fell into her hands. “Oh God, oh God, thank you Jesus.”
Dr. Earle let her process that bit of information. “I still want you to finish the story.”
“Tomorrow? We’ll finish it tomorrow. Okay?”
“That’s fine. We’ll talk about it in the morning while I’m eating my last pan of buttermilk biscuits.” That made Amy spit out a chuckle. “By the afternoon, you’ll be debriefed at Langley, and by tomorrow evening you’ll come back, stay the night and drive home the next morning. Sound like a plan?”
“Yeah, that’ll be fine.”
“Do you play chess?”
“Bogus plays. He lets me win so I’ll keep playing him. But yeah, I know which direction the pieces go.”
“How about a game or two of chess, take your mind off of this for the evening?”
She gave him a smile. “Okay, thanks.”
Chapter 32
A sense of normalcy settled over Braxton Trucking, along with the occasional episode of hijinks. Joseph ran a fairly loose operation with defined lines of behavior that were not to be crossed. A half dozen drivers gathered in the lobby, picking up paychecks as the day came to a close. Josh came through the front door carrying a super size Snickers bar. He knew Parker was a candy fiend. He held it up in front of Parker and pulled the wrapper down, slowly, like a high-class stripper. Parker’s eyes got big. “Hey, Josh, gimme a piece of that.”
Josh flashed him a little grin. “Oh, you want piece? Okay.”
Jos
h started to hand it to him, but as Parker reached for it Josh pulled it back, licked the flat side of the candy bar from top to bottom, then held it out to Parker. Parker snatched it out of his hand, flipped it over, licked the other side and smirked as he handed it back. Josh looked at the candy bar. “You asshole!”
Everyone in the lobby busted up laughing. Josh, with a disgusted look, threw it into the garbage can. “I cain’t believe you did that.”
“Gotta be fast, Josh. That’s why I’m the boss.”
Joseph yelled from his office, “I thought I was the boss!”
Parker smiled and exclaimed, “For now!”
The front door opened as Mr. Chambers walked into the midst of the laughter. “Ya’ll havin a good time? I like seein’ that. Ya’ll need to be havin’ a good time takin’ care of your trucks. I see several fifth wheels that need grease, air lines that got grease and dirt all over ’em.” He turned his head toward a driver. “Melvin, I opened the door on your truck and was hit by a falling soda bottle. That the way you keep your house?”
Melvin looked ashamed. “No, sir.”
“Then gitcher butt out there and do somethin’ about it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Chambers walked into Joseph’s office and shut the door. He made the old workingman’s grunt as he lowered himself into the chair. “Joe? How’s it goin’?”
Joseph leaned back in his chair, let out a deep breath and smiled. “I think we’re all caught up.”
“Good. See, I toldja we’d get it handled.”
“We lost Shepard Industries to Davis Trucking.”
Mr. Chambers shook his head. “They’ll be back. That old bastards’ trucks don’t run half the time.”
“Glad you think so.”
“Yeah... ah, Joe?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Have you seen your Uncle Jack?”
“No, not in a couple days. Kelly says he comes and goes from the hospital, mostly late at night when he sleeps next to her.”