Alex shook his head no. “Don't know how, Larry. I got this delivery,” pointing toward his notes. “And some boxes to open.”
Larry looked over at his drinking buddy with a bit of amazement. “Boxes to open? Are you kidding?”
Alex shrugged his shoulders.
“Look Alex,” Larry explained. “I'll take this Sergeant's note over to Cabin #94 and you get yourself over to the Lava Lounge where I'll have two Lava Lagers,” showing two fingers, “parked in front of two stools.”
Alex shrugged again, and this time smiled. “I'll make it fast, but I need to get this stuff done.”
“Great!” Larry said, taking the notes and transposing them onto a clean piece of paper, making a respectable telegram. He folded it and stood up to go as Alex was heading for the storeroom.
The clouds had settled in thick, blocking out the late afternoon sun for the rest of the day, and possibly the stars later. Larry took the steps two at a time and rounded the corner of the old stone building just in time to see someone exiting Cabin #94.
Through the thick mists all he could tell was that it seemed to be a guy, possibly the elusive Private Turner. His cap was on tight and low. Boots and khaki pants topped with a black jacket painted the rest of the picture for Larry. It had to be Private Turner.
He ran a few steps to catch up with the rapidly disappearing figure, headed in the direction of the Lava Lounge.
“Hey,” Larry yelled out, trying to temper his voice from sounding overbearing. “Hey Private Turner?” He jogged a few more steps until he managed to catch up. “Yo, Turner?”
Finally the figure stopped and turned. Larry stopped abruptly as well. If this was Private James Turner he sure looked young.
“I have a telegram for Private Turner,” Larry said. “Is that you?”
Janet had hoped she could get more than a few steps out the door in Jimmy's clothes before having to actually act like she was him. She was afraid her voice would give her away, either through sounding too feminine or just shaking with nervousness.
“Sure,” Janet mumbled. “Yes.” She reached out for the telegram, before it was even offered.
Larry noticed her voice and immediately figured this was one of those “Don't Ask, Don't Tell” situations. He reached out to give the telegram to whomever this was. “Please read it. Your Sergeant is in a bit of a panic.”
Janet took the telegram and quickly stashed it inside her jacket pocket without reading it. She looked up at Larry and tried real hard not to smile like a girl. She remembered a Tony Curtis movie where the young actor simply raised one corner of his mouth in a partial smile and how macho that looked. Trying that she felt ridiculous and turned away quickly.
“Thanks,” she said and began her march to the bar again.
Larry stood there a moment as the soldier walked away, then quickly followed. “I'm headed to the Lava Lounge, you too?”
Janet tried to ignore him but Larry came up beside her again, and managed to open the door just as they both arrived. She tried her best to be polite, but firmly announced to him, “I drink alone.”
Larry smiled and let her move off toward the bar. “I know that song dude.” He paused a minute as he looked around for his friends. “I never do,” he added.
12
Her day had started out just fine. In fact, more than just fine, more like perfect. Sacramento was having an unusually late fall, accented nicely by today's highs in the mid 70s. Walking to her bridge game, four blocks from her tree shaded street, along the cafes and coffee shops and throngs of young people she almost skipped a little. The sky was blue-bird blue, her summer dress, cut a little long, was teasing her imagination back some thirty years or so.
It had been at least that long since she had felt that twinge of excitement in her chest. That tingle of adventure. A little promise of romance colored her disposition better than FTD, chocolate or a few sips of white wine.
Agatha Turner had rediscovered love. She laughed out loud at the thought, catching the momentary attention of two other love birds sharing a cappuccino. Amazing, she thought, she was having almost as much fun on Facebook as she'd had so long ago at the soda fountains not far from here.
It had popped up unannounced a few days ago. A message in her inbox from that tall, dark and handsome rogue from high school. He was headed for Sacramento on some kind of contractor convention junket and said he would love to take her to Burr's Fountain.
She had never told him but that had been her very first kiss, there in the corner booth. Opening the door to Sylvia's little dance supply store where they would soon gossip and brag and laugh, Agatha felt a surge of pride. Her son, Jimmy, had been right. Facebook was going to be the best thing that had happened to her in a long time.
~~~
I followed Janet at a distance, hovering beside the quiet trees and inside the unnoticed corners of the recreation area. Janet managed to make it to her favorite booth in the back, on the way to the restrooms, without anyone else accosting her. The Lava Lounge was far below seating capacity tonight, being a Wednesday and the day before Karaoke night.
She turned to look for the helpful messenger guy and saw him at the bar talking with a dark haired guy with a long ponytail. They seemed to be old friends. Good. No trouble from him.
Pulling out the telegram, she immediately noticed it to be simply a hand written note. It was short and direct.
Call your Sergeant about your return to duty date
December 15th, 0600H, Ft. Bragg NC
788-555-4343
She had to check her watch to make sure. December 15th was just two days away. No impossible task was ever accomplished without beer, so she drank. Two at a time, until she had finished twelve Lava Lagers, and the bartender began taking longer to bring new ones over.
I was there, watching her. Listening to her thoughts as best I could between the bursts of static and confusion. How was she going to convince Sergeant JJ not to send the military police when I didn't show up? By my calculations, it had been almost a week since Janet had murdered me, and our reservation for the cabin was just for a week. Soon she would have to leave.
The wild ones were back, with the miners headlamps on. They were drinking and talking and doing both loudly. Tourists seem to have the most fun, wherever they went. The locals always maintained a balance. All these guys filed back and forth past Janet, on their way to the bathrooms.
As I watched her she simply stared out at the tables and the TV, always holding onto her drink. Sometimes I thought I could see her eyes close and that was right when the static got loudest, when she did that. When she tried to hide.
Eventually, someone noticed her. It was the tall guy with the wild ones, Pat. He glanced over at Janet on his return from the bathrooms, did a double take and walked briskly back to their table.
“Hey Dave,” Pat leaned over speaking in a loud whisper.
Dave put his headlamp back on but changed the light to red. “Yes, Sir Pat, what?”
Pat shook his head like you might shake off a joke you didn't understand. “Your girlfriend, the bloodsucker? She looks to have gotten herself a haircut.”
Dave had a momentary look of terror in his face which drew out some drunken laughs from his crew. “No way!” he proclaimed and then leaned over toward Pat, “Where?”
Pat gestured over to the bathrooms. “Your favorite booth.”
Dave peeked around his friends to look. “That's not her, that's a guy,” he whispered.
“Why don't you buy her another drink Dave?” Tim asked. “See if her hands have healed yet.”
“Here,” John offered reaching into his jacket to hand Dave something. “I've got a leftover band-aid.”
Dave ignored his friends with a smile and kept trying to get a good look at the person in the corner booth. He pushed back his chair slowly, drawing some hoots from the guys. “I'm going to the little boys room.”
“Watch out for your neck!” Pat advised.
Dave nonchalantly
went up to the bar, ordered a drink to go to Janet's table and then walked toward the bathroom hallway. Glancing over in his best 'I'm not really looking at you, but I am' gaze he tried to recognize the girl who only a day ago had shocked him with her crazy behavior. She looked quite different, if it was her. No doubt the long red hair was gone, replaced with what looked like a military cut. The ball cap was low over her forehead, and with long pants and a black jacket on it was hard to tell.
But, as he moved into the hallway, his innate photographic memory, used only when girls were involved, kept playing back the images he had just seen. Just as he pushed the door marked Kane open, it popped into his mind.
“Shit,” he mumbled. “Her hands...”
~~~
Agatha Turner stood outside the bookstore, just down from Burr's Fountain, looking at her hands. They still had that delicate beauty she had always prided herself on, but now the age spots and wrinkles had claimed much of the surface. Her left hand looked a bit naked, without the wedding ring she had worn for … forever.
Watching as stealthily as she could for any tall handsome man that might enter Burr's, she sighed a little. It had been decades since she had let such emotions drive her behavior, such as shyness at being alone in a booth. Waiting for someone to show up sucked, especially when your confidence was down. She really missed her husband right now, and the comfort she had had in such a long, stable relationship.
“Those days are gone girl,” she whispered out loud to herself.
Every Taxi that stopped and cast out its fare was studied closely. First, a young couple, obviously too young to drive but with enough money for a ride, jumped out. Another taxi showed up with four adults, all dressed in some kind of black and red matching outfits.
Her watch confirmed what her heart was screaming. He was late, unfashionably late at this point. She thanked her self esteem for coming up with the idea of standing in front of the bookstore instead of sitting alone at a booth in front of all the happy couples enjoying their time, and their ice cream.
Finally, afraid she would wilt from the stress, she promised herself she would leave at the next taxi that produced disappointment. From a distance she saw another approaching, and after a moment, saw two more right behind it. All three pulled up in front of Burr's.
Four people piled out of the first one, then five from the next and amazingly six from the last, all laughing uproariously and talking loud. She tried to scan all the faces quickly before they disappeared inside. Several were women, mostly beautiful and a bit younger than her, but not by much. Everyone was piling inside Burr's quickly and she missed a few of the men's faces.
As the last of them went inside, one man stopped and before going in turned to look down the sidewalk in the other direction from her. Turning he glanced across the street, and then as if in slow motion gazed toward her for several moments.
It was him! He didn't seem to recognize her. Probably, she chided herself, because she appeared to be an old homeless woman hanging out in front of the bookstore. Turning back to the door he went in last and the sidewalk was bare. Bare and cold.
Agatha's heart was racing with all the emotions and fears of any seventeen year old girl on a first date, a first date some thirty five years later. Her nervousness was overwhelming but her loneliness had driven her to go out, and now to go in the front door of Burr's.
Standing there for just a moment, she recognized the feeling again, just as she had when first diving in online at Facebook. The entire world was there, watching. Watching and waiting for her to say something clever or funny or stupid.
She scanned the crowd and found the large group that had just come in and suddenly there he was, standing up and waving at her, a big grin on that handsome face she had kissed so very, very long ago.
Forcing her hands apart, she took one last good luck spin of her wedding ring, now decorating her right hand, reminding her there was always hope for another grand adventure as great as the first.
~~~
Janet couldn't finish her beer fast enough. This had been a bad idea, coming out in public, albeit a public of a dozen or so hermits in a rainforest. That good looking French Canadian was lurking around again and must have been the one who had sent over a free beer.
“Thanks, of course, but I have to go,” she murmured to herself as she stood to go. This was no time to explain her change to anyone.
A $20 bill stuck nicely to the table with all the beer condensation and she made her way for the rear door. She glanced over at the table where they wore head lamps. “What the hell is that all about?” she wondered. Too much time in the woods no doubt. And that meant too much stored up … well too much of that attention hormone.
Dave almost ran into her exiting the hallway, but stopped short. He watched Janet closely, and tried to look at her hands, but they were tucked deeply into her black jacket pockets. As she passed he caught the eyes of his buddies, waving madly at him and pointing to her. He practically ran back to the table, but remembered it foolish to run with scissors or in bars.
“That was her!” he said in a loud whisper sitting back down.
“No way dude, that was a dude,” Everett said, between sips of his fourth Lava Lager.
Pat reached over and grabbed Dave's neck. “Looks OK I guess,” laughing he added. “Any other injuries we are not interested in seeing.”
“Guys, that was her. I don't know what the deal is with her hair and clothes,” Dave excitedly reported. “But her hands, they were cut up just like last time.”
“No shit, were they bleeding still?” Tim didn't quite believe Dave, especially having watched him keep up with Everett on the Lava Lagers.
Dave sat back, folded his arms and waited for the friendly insults to stop. “No, they were scarred.” He leaned forward, looked over to the door to make sure she was gone now and added, “I gotta tell you guys, if we don't get outta here soon,” he looked over at the bar stools. “We just might get a little bit crazy too.”
Pat stood up to begin the march to the bathrooms himself, but stopped behind Everett. “Dave, in case you didn't notice...” he touched the head lamp on Everett's head. “We're already there, buddy.”
~~~
Cabin #94 was cold inside. For some reason the maid always turned down the heat on her way out the door. But, she never failed to pick up the beer cans. God bless her.
Janet was shaking so much she could barely get her key in the door lock, as the cold mist of the cloud insisted on finding each and every vulnerability in her clothing. Her head was freezing! It had never been so exposed, it was like her neck had ice cubes parked all over her skin.
Finally the door relented and let her in. She flipped on as many lights as she could, thinking it might warm the place up, if only with some reassurance. It wasn't immediately working. She moved to find the heaters, and after some time located them along the base boards.
Bending down to turn them on finally brought on the sickness she had been fighting now for weeks.
Rushing to the bathroom she barely made it before vomiting yet again. She thought she had not done this so much since she had that bout with bulimia back in high school. Perversely enough, as she continued throwing up she remembered what an old girlfriend had told her. Get rid of that much beer and you are ready for some more.
Two minutes later she had two beers and two laptops open. Then my cell phone rang.
~~~
Sergeant Joyce Johannson listened to the ring of Private First Class James Madison Turner's cell phone even as sweat still streaked down the side of her face and onto her phone. Grabbing her towel, she wiped her face and the phone and then listened as it went to voice mail.
“Jimmy here, and you're not. Leave a message.”
She was in no mood for jokes, even as she noted his clever outgoing message. “Private First Class Turner. This is Sergeant Johannson. You got less than 48 hours to report to Ft. Bragg. You missed your call in last week and again this morning. Don't make me come o
ut there and drag your ass to Leavenworth.” She paused a moment and changed her voice from hard-ass to a bit more friendly. “Hope you had a good time in Hawaii. By the way, what's up with that Facebook post about being dead?” She paused again, and then went back to hard-ass, “You're a good soldier. Be there!”
~~~
Janet was full of confusion. Watching my phone ring then go to voice mail had made her cringe even further. It had to be related to the telegram she still had in her jacket pocket. She, for the first time in weeks, was too nervous to drink.
The cabin phone rang this time, nearly giving her the heart attack she was already working up to. Immediately she picked it up. The ring itself was worse than whatever conversation might occur.
“Hell...hello?”
“Hi, this is Amy at the Front Desk. Can I speak with Private Turner please?”
Janet paused a moment, then consciously tried to deepen her voice a little. “This is Turner.”
“Great, we see you're due to check out in the morning. I wanted to let you know you can extend if you like.” The Front Desk clerk sounded friendly despite such a mandatory call.
Janet thought about that. She really had no other plans, and honestly had not even considered her next move beyond Volcano. “Sure,” she almost let her voice rise back up an octave. “What do you need?
The Front Desk clerk was easy. “Just come by and sign the credit card slip. How many days would you like to add?”
“Lets make it a week,” Janet said. That should give her time to figure out a better plan than the non-existent one she had now.
Death by Facebook Page 5