Amy Lynn, Into the Fire

by Jack July

“What does that mean?”

  “It means he’s filled with so much hate that there ain’t enough people for him to hurt to get rid of it.”

  Bogus grew frustrated. His face tightened as the vein on his neck began to bulge. “Do you know where your daughter has been?” Leon shook his head. “She has been at a retreat with a therapist to try to deal with her anger issues. You had better pray she made some progress, or what you will see this evening—”

  Leon interrupted and shared a little anger of his own. With the deep, stern growl of a man who had breathed a little too much coal dust, he looked Bogus in the eye and spoke. “You son of a bitch, don’t you ever speak down to me. I know what she is. She’s like Jack; she always has been. I don’t know what the government did to her but I got a feelin’ her and Jack ain’t far apart. You think you know her? I saw her come out of her momma. I still don’t know who she is. I deal with what she gives me when she chooses to give it. You take care of your family and I’ll take care of mine. Now, git yo ass outta here.”

  Bogus had forgotten who he was talking to. “Yes, sir, look, I am really so—”

  Leon snapped his head around and pointed to the door. “You git yo ass outta here fore you piss me off!”

  “Sir, I need to find Jack.”

  Leon shook his head. “You know every God damn thing; find him yourself.”

  Bogus nodded, turned and walked out.

  The old shack smelled musty. It was one room with a small kitchen, a cast iron wood stove and a twin size mattress on the floor. The windows were covered with filthy sheets while two Coleman lamps supplied light. Blood had crusted on the side of Micky’s face where a cut on his brow had bled. His cheek was swollen and he flicked his tongue in a gap between his teeth where a tooth used to be. He pulled at the ropes where his wrists and ankles were bound to the chair. To his right he heard the sound of a beer can being opened. He turned his head and saw an overweight man in hunting camo turn up the can, take a big drink and let out a belch. Then a bag crinkled as he pulled out a pork rind and crunched it. The front door opened as another man walked in. He was thin, a little younger and wearing jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt.

  Micky came to his senses and croaked, “Where is Mary Ann?”

  The two men looked at each other. The thin one spoke. “She’s prolly home with her family.”

  “You better not have laid a hand on her.”

  The men looked at each other again. The overweight one smiled. “What the hell kind of faggy-ass accent is that?”

  “I’m Irish. Mary Ann, where is she?”

  The overweight man shrugged. “Man didn’t stutter, said she was home.”

  The thin one smiled and kicked the front of Micky’s chair, “Wut, you love her or somthin’?”

  “She is,” he winced in pain, “my girlfriend.”

  The two men looked at each other and began to laugh. Micky looked at them with a confused expression. The skinny one said, “You and every other swingin’ dick in this town.”

  Micky shot back in anger, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Means if she had as many dicks stickin’ out of her as she’s had stickin’ in her she’d look like a damn porky-pine.”

  Micky growled and pulled hard at his restraints. “You bloody wankers!”

  The overweight man laughed and held up his hands. “Easy Frenchy, or whatever the fuck you are. You might want to think a minute. Think about how the hell we knew where you were.”

  “She wouldn’t do that.”

  They looked at each other again and chuckled.

  Micky calmed down a bit. “What is it that you want?”

  The skinny one answered, “Nothin’. We jus’ gonna sit here till they tell us what to do.”

  Micky held his head up in defiance. “Do you know who I am?”

  The skinny one shook his head. “Nope, and I don’t give a fuck.”

  “I am Sir Micky Zielinski, Knight of the Castle Dunn, son of the Lady of Castle Dunn and son of Boguslaw Zielinski. Let me go now and I can save you from your fate.”

  The skinny one laughed and nudged his friend. “You hear that? My fate.”

  “Yeah, I heard it.” He turned his attention back to Micky. “I’m tired of you flappin’ yo’ gums. You need to shut the fuck up.”

  Micky turned it up. “THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING!”

  The overweight man jumped up and viciously slapped Micky in the back of his head causing him to see stars and hear a ringing noise. “That’s yo’ last warning; shut the fuck up!”

  As the ringing subsided and his vision cleared, he could hear the familiar turbine whine and rotors of the Bell 429 in the distance. Then he let out a little laugh of his own.

  Athos rappelled from the chopper into a small clearing. He signaled Tigger to go. He did a final gear check, slung a waterproof canvas bag over his shoulder and sprinted to the shack. He covered the quarter mile through the woods and brush in less than two minutes. Quickly and quietly, piece by piece, he removed the equipment he wouldn’t need. He left himself with a sidearm, a knife and a garrote. Listening intently, he picked up distinct voices, neither one Micky’s.

  Athos took a quick lap around the shack, staying in the brush, looking for trip wires, cameras and other assorted booby traps. He saw nothing and began to question himself. This is almost too easy. He remembered what Princeton had said: “These appear to be amateurs.” Then he thought back to something his father had told him, “Sometimes things are exactly as they appear.” He crept to the front door, did one more 360-degree check and banged on the door three times. Micky’s captors leapt to their feet. The overweight man scurried to the front door holding a S&W .357 mag and looked behind the sheet that hung as a curtain. “What do you see?” asked the skinny one.

  “Nothing. Go to the back and look.”

  The skinny one took a pistol-grip sawed-off shotgun from the kitchen counter and pointed it at the back door. He reached down and twisted the knob slowly the pulled it open until the barrel of the shotgun fit through the crack. He peeked through the window next to the back door while holding the shotgun. He saw nothing. The overweight man whispered from the front of the house, “Ya got a shotgun; git yo’ ass out there and look.”

  He opened the door wide enough for his body to fit and eased his way out. He caught the movement of a shadow as the garrote wrapped around his neck and yanked with enough force to take him off his feet. The shotgun fired, the back door slammed shut. The only other sound was a few foot scrapes in the dirt, followed by silence.

  “Eddie? EDDIE!” the big man shouted, breaking protocol not to use each other’s names. The front door banged open and the big man turned, firing three times through the open door. His head kept rotating back and forth between the front and back doors. He was clearly panicked. Moments later there were three bangs against the back door. He turned and fired again. Windows started breaking on the side of the shack away from Micky. The big man wildly fired through a broken window. Then something flew through the front door, spinning as it landed at the big man’s feet. It was Eddie’s severed hand. The big man screamed, fired at the opened door then backed toward Micky. A shadow filled the doorway, not a large man, but a man that moved silently, like a ghost.

  The shadow moved toward Micky until a beam of outside light lit his face. “Athos, I knew you would come.”

  Athos nodded. “Sir Micky.”

  The big man lunged behind Micky, placing his forearm across Micky’s throat and pointing the pistol at his head. “You back yo’ ass up, now!”

  Athos locked eyes with the big man and then spoke. “Micky? What are the two knightly truths.”

  Micky choked out, “The immutable truth of God and the finite truth of humans.”

  “Good, very good. You know a third, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is it?”

  “His gun is empty.”

  “Very good.”

  The garrote whistled through the air and wrapp
ed itself around the man’s throat. Athos used weight and leverage to pull the big man from behind Micky. As he fell forward, Athos regained his balance and stepped out of the way. The big man crashed to the floor and Athos landed on the center of the big man’s back. He wrapped the garrote again and using the rope and leverage created by his weight, he twisted until he heard the pop of the neck bone.

  Athos undid the garrote and returned it to his pocket. He stood and did a quick check of the area, then tended to Micky. Athos unsheathed his knife and cut him free. Micky tried to get up but Athos gently held him back. He shined a small flashlight in each of his eyes, looking for bleeding or a pupil that would not dilate, denoting a concussion. He motioned Micky to stand and checked him over again. Satisfied his injuries were superficial, he grabbed Micky firmly by the upper arms. “Sir Micky, you are to walk out that door, turn right and walk three hundred meters until you come to the aircraft. Tigger will strap you in. Do. Not. Do. Not. Come back here for any reason. Understand?”

  Micky nodded.

  “Sir Micky? Do. Not. Come back.”

  “Okay.”

  “Now go.”

  Micky walked out the door and turned right. Athos returned to the tree line to gather his equipment. He dragged Eddie into the house, set a white phosphorus incendiary grenade on the counter and called Tigger. “Tigger? Is Leprechaun secure?”

  “Roger that.”

  “ETA five minutes.”

  “Roger that.”

  Athos finished his assignment, slung the waterproof bag over his shoulder, pulled the pin on the grenade and tossed it through the window as he jogged away.

  Chapter 37

  Bogus stood fidgeting in the living room, waiting for word, then jumped with the ringing of the phone. Athos reported in, “Leprechaun is secure.”

  “Oh, thank God. Well done, Athos.”

  “Sir, he needs medical care.”

  “Is he hurt bad?”

  “No, sir, just a couple of stitches.”

  “Very well, take him to the hospital and see to him.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Bogus hung up the phone and nodded to Princeton. Princeton seemed even more relieved than Bogus. “Tragedy averted, sir?”

  “Yes, for now. We need to discuss how we are going to handle the Congressman Stone issue.”

  Princeton looked at him from the corner of his eye. “I think you already know.”

  “Yes, well, we’ll walk it through anyway. I don’t like surprises.”

  The phone rang and Princeton answered. “Sir, it’s Doctor Lange.”

  Dr. Reginald Lange was Director of the National Hospital for Neurology and Neurosurgery in the United Kingdom. “Reggie? Bogus. How are you?”

  “Oh, you know; my wife is angry about something and the children make decisions with their reproductive organs. However, my grandchildren are precious.”

  Bogus let out a quick laugh. “Everything sounds normal.”

  “Indeed. So, Bogus, I have gone over this case involving Mrs. Brown. I think I can help. One small problem, though; the drug that has been developed has not yet been approved by the FDA. To use it would be a crime in the States.”

  “Reggie, I don’t think something as inconsequential as a law will get in the way of us doing what needs to be done. When can you be here?”

  “I’ll check flights, but I can be there tomorrow, in the A.M.”

  “Thank you, Reggie.”

  “Bogus, I’ll bring you the drug, but I will not administer it.”

  “Fair enough, I think we can handle that on this end.”

  “Tomorrow then?”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  Bogus hung up the phone. “Well, Princeton, let’s pray this works.”

  Bogus heard the tractor and looked out the kitchen window. Leon was driving down the old road to keep a promise and dig a hole. “Princeton, ask my father-in-law not to cover Mathias.”

  “Yes, sir. Um, sir, I’m surprised you aren’t there with him.”

  “We had words.”

  “Mmm, I understand.”

  “Princeton? I am used to fixing things. But now, I’m not sure how far to go. This family is a mess, and not by their own creation.”

  “Yes, well... You do the best you can. Those who love you will recognize that. Those who don’t, never really mattered.”

  “I suppose. Thank you, Princeton.”

  Athos walked Micky into the ER, where Kelly was working. She saw him and came out from behind the counter. “What in the hell happened to you?”

  “I was…”

  Athos touched his shoulder and gave Micky a look as if to say silence. “He was in an accident. I think he may need stitches above his eye.”

  Kelly looked at Athos suspiciously then back at Micky. “I’ll say.”

  Kelly put her arm around Micky’s shoulders and they walked to the exam room. Athos was close behind. Kelly stopped, turned and said to Athos, “There’s a waiting room around the corner. We’ll call you when we are finished.”

  Micky shook his head. “That’s not going to happen.”

  Kelly was stern. “Sir Micky, the hospital has rules.”

  “I understand, but Athos has his orders. Do you think he could sit outside the room?”

  Kelly turned to look at Athos. His cold stare gave her a chill. “Um, yes, we can arrange something.”

  Micky smiled. “Thanks.”

  Kelly lovingly cleaned his face, paying special attention to the cut above his eye, prepping him for the doctor. “This isn’t the first time that eye has been cut.”

  “No, I, I used to fight a lot.”

  “Yeah, I figured you to be a tough guy.”

  “I don’t know how tough, but the wolf is always larger in the eyes of the frightened.”

  Kelly nodded. “How poetic, and with that accent girls should be crawling all over you.”

  Micky blushed a little. “One was before I was beat up.” Kelly’s brow arched and she was going to ask, but he said, “How’s Aunt Carla Jo?”

  “She’s about the same. The swelling in her brain has gone down. It just takes time and prayers. Lots of prayers.”

  “I don’t think Ma knows yet.”

  “Yeah, it’s gonna be hard on her. But you’ll be there for her, right?”

  “Aye, you know it.”

  “Good.” She kept working, cleaning the cut. After a few moments, she whispered, “You wanna tell me what happened?”

  His eyes looked away. “I can’t.”

  “It has something to do with Mary Ann, right?”

  He looked back at her and gave a small nod.

  “I figured as much. Family, friends, other boyfriend?”

  He whispered back, “I think family.”

  “Oh, your Ma is gonna lose her shit,” Kelly said without thinking, then corrected herself. “I mean, she’ll be upset.”

  “Not if she doesn’t know.”

  Kelly shook her head. “She’ll find out, trust me.”

  “Don’t say anything, okay?”

  She put her hands gently on his cheeks and said, “I can keep a secret.”

  The doctor walked in as she kissed Micky on the forehead. “You kiss all your patients, Nurse Cook?”

  Kelly grinned. “Just the cute ones.”

  The doctor smiled back. “Very well, now, what do we have here…”

  Amy took one last view of the panorama as the Blackhawk landed at Doctor Earle’s. He came out and greeted her on the porch. They walked into the house and Dr. Earle saw her eyeing the back door. “Do you want to go sit on the back porch?”

  “Yeah, that would be great.”

  They walked out to the back porch and took a seat. They didn’t look at each other as they sat on the glider; the leaves were beginning to change and the sea of color was beyond description. He started the conversation. “Did you learn anything interesting at Langley?”

  “Yeah, I learned what happens when you lose control. What you miss, what you don’
t see.”

  “That’s good. Anything else?”

  “Yeah, I need to forgive myself, for a lot of things. Not just this, you know, but other things.”

  “Yes. I consider our time together a success. What do you think?”

  She turned to him with a genuine smile. “I agree. Thank you Doctor Earle, for everything.”

  “I’m always here when you need me. It doesn’t have to be an emergency. Sometimes you just need a quiet place to talk, a place to let things go.”

  “Oh, I’ll probably be back.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. There is no way I’ll be able to make those biscuits like you do.”

  She laughed.

  “You have a nice laugh; let’s keep that going.”

  “Yes, sir. I spoke to my husband as I was leaving Langley. He said there are a few family issues. I would like to leave as soon as possible, if that’s okay.”

  “Sure, that’s fine. Can you find your way down the mountain?”

  “Yeah, shouldn’t be a problem.” She took a deep breath and gazed at the horizon. “Ya know, in a way, I don’t want to leave. I’ve felt so, so, safe here, so comfortable. I think separating myself from everything was a great help.”

  “That’s why I’m up here.”

  They sat quietly for a few more minutes as the sun continued its descent behind the river. She turned and looked him in the eye. “You know Doc, I feel like I owe you something.”

  “Don’t even think about it. I get paid.”

  “Whatever you get paid, I can’t imagine it being enough.”

  “Trust me, it’s plenty.”

  She stood up. “Alright then, I have to go.”

  They walked out to her truck. She turned to him. “Is it okay if I give you a hug?”

  “I’d be broken hearted if you didn’t.”

  She hugged him; it was a warm, solid hug. “Thanks again.” She climbed up in the truck and started the engine. The big diesel broke the silence of the mountainside with a grumble and clacking. She turned the truck, drove to the edge of the property and disappeared down the road. Doc Earle thought. That is the most complicated woman I have ever met. She’s going in the book.

  Amy worked her way down the side of the mountain until she came to the main road, and once she got to I-64 she followed the signs to the airport. As she drove down Airport Road, she could see the G-650 sitting on the tarmac, the big red Z on the tail. She pulled in and parked. She saw a sign that said “Pilots Lounge,” and she strolled through the door. Garrett sat with his feet up, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. “Garrett, take me home.”