by William Bebb
*****
Josey swallowed three aspirin and tightened his leg bandage.
“It's suicide. Please don't go out there. You're not a superhero. You drive a septic tank truck, for goodness sake,” Mrs. Remlap begged as she held a wet cloth to the unconscious old man's forehead.
“You two just stay here. I'll find Billy and Boris and we'll be back in a little while. I'm pretty sure they went out the backdoor since the front still has a few unfriendly types out there,” he said, picking up his crowbar and starting to open the backdoor.
“Wait.” With his eyes half open the old man spoke slowly, “Go... look in the back of my closet. Inside my golf bag... there's something-” He coughed for a few seconds and continued, “...something I think might help you.”
Josey quickly limped into the back bedroom and looked in the closet, pushing aside a selection of Hawaiian shirts he couldn't begin to imagine the old man ever wearing. He stared at a long dark brown leather coat with an armband stitched to the sleeve.
Why would he have a thing like this? He wondered, while reaching up and feeling the thick leather material. Josey smiled as a plan began to form. Pushing aside the heavy coat for the moment, he looked in the golf bag and noticed a faded red and white leather handle topped with a dull metallic dragon head on the end. It was sticking up much higher than the other golf club heads and he pulled it out whispering softly, “Damn.”
Phyllis Remlap was holding a wet paper towel on the forehead of the old man sitting in his recliner as she heard heavy footsteps from the hallway. She looked up and felt her denture adhesive threatening to fail again as she stared in open mouthed shock. She fixed her dentures tightly in place and finally spoke. “Josey, what the-” she started then fell silent. Her eyes widened as she looked up at the large limping man that came down the small hallway.
Josey wore a long dark leather coat with a fur neck liner and a black and white Nazi swastika symbol over a red background that had been stitched to the upper sleeve.
Pointing her finger at the four and a half foot long metal sword he carried she could only babble in confusion.
“I figure the coat might come in handy if they get within biting distance, but hopefully this will help keep the bastards from getting that close,” he said carefully swinging the sword.
The old man sat up coughing and said softly, “Won that sword... in a poker game from a major in Hamburg back in 1946. Said he took it off a Jap general on Midway. Use it, but be careful it's wicked sharp. As for the coat, I think it belonged to some member of Gestapo, but he didn't need it anymore after his head got blown off.” He closed his eyes and added, “Be careful, son.”
Mrs. Remlap looked up at Josey. She reminded him a little of his grandmother as she said “Yes, please be careful. And if you can't find him-”
He raised his hand in a stop gesture. “I'll find him. You two just try not to worry,” he said, slipping quietly outside through the back door.
After Josey heard the door lock click, he spotted some tall scrub grass that had been flattened heading north toward the park's exit. He carried his crowbar in his left hand and the sword in his right while watching carefully for anyone. Before long, sweat began to flow over his skin under the heavy coat. He ignored it and moved as fast as he dared.