Jason passed the high school of his glory days. It was squat, red-brick, and ugly. They’d expanded the parking lot—now empty for Christmas break—because so many students drove these days. It was stark and bleak, covered with ice and surrounded by mounds of snow piled at its perimeter. There were circular tracks in its broad expanse where someone had taken a car into the lot to make donuts by braking and skidding round and round. When he passed the football stadium with its unpainted bleachers, nostalgia and regret flooded through him. The site of his many adolescent triumphs. A taste of bile touched his tongue. One too many conquests.
Marriage, even at that young age, had settled Jason down. Mary Sue was a beautiful girl, and he’d had little use for other women once they’d tied the knot. It would have been easy to stray—she was difficult to get along with as it turned out, and motherhood hadn’t made her happy. But fatherhood had agreed with Jason, and it was for that reason he’d remained faithful. He didn’t want to lose Marcy. Then he’d lost her anyway.
Marcy. Jason’s blood boiled at the thought of Hugo touching her. Raping her. At the age he’d violated her, she’d been nothing but a child. An image of Hugo, gross and sweating, came unbidden into Jason’s mind.
The man is smirking. His teeth are tobacco-stained, his breath rancid. A grinning devil’s head tattoo is burned into his groin. Marcy cowers before him, a slip of a girl barely in her teens.
Hugo salivates at the sight of his prey. He licks his lips and lowers himself to his knees. The object of his desire shrinks further from him. With obvious intent he reaches toward Marcy.
Jason shouted, “No!” and beat his fist against the steering wheel. The car swerved to the left. A truck’s horn blared. Jason barely jerked the wheel in time to miss the oncoming behemoth. Overcompensation ran him onto the berm where his tires spewed gravel, and the vehicle fishtailed until he gained control.
He slowed and pulled to a stop well off the road. His heart beat like a metronome gone mad. Tears welled in his eyes, and he lowered his head to the steering wheel. He squeezed his lids shut as hard as he could until blackness enveloped him. Soon jags of lightning pierced the dark, destroying the oblivion in which he sought escape.
A sob racked him, and he pushed himself up. The world glared at him through his sheen of tears. It glowered and shimmered with hostility. He got hold of his emotions but allowed himself one final vow. He would find the animals who did this, Hugo first and foremost among them. They would pay. They would die. And for his transgressions, Hugo particularly would suffer in a way he’d never dreamed possible. The blog entry he’d recently made came back to haunt him: where was God in all this?
Jason resumed his journey. The miles passed, and he located the road he sought. He ticked off numbers, found the right address his mother had given him, and pulled into a long, curving drive crowded with beech trees. Although their branches were bare, the number of trees made it impossible to see the property beyond. Jason drove slowly. When he rounded the next corner and cleared a clump of heavy bushes, he saw the house. It was a two-story Tudor backing up to dense woods. From its size and well-maintained appearance, serious money had gone into the place.
A massive black Cadillac Escalade sat in the paved turnaround out front. Plastered on the SUV’s rear bumper was a sticker which read, “Trees are people, too.” Next to the huge vehicle, like a mouse beside an elephant, sat Lizzy’s red Audi.
***
Nobody answered the bell. Around back he found a gazebo, a cupola-roofed structure in which eight could sit easily. Nearby was a well-worn track through the snow leading into the woods. Jason hadn’t come prepared for a winter hike, dressed as he was in casual Rockports, but he hitched his coat collar up around his neck, jammed a wool cap over his ears down to his eyes, and tramped into the forest.
The path led along a level grade until it came to a sharp incline that had Jason clutching at rocks and trees to avoid falling as his feet slipped on the icy snow. Within moments he was sweating and his breath came fast, billowing over his head in a heated cloud. He reached the top of the slope, paused to look around at the naked black fingers of the surrounding oaks, and trudged on.
He had no knowledge that Lizzy had taken a walk here this morning, but it seemed right to Jason. Last night she’d expressed an affinity with the environment through revealing her association with Greenpeace. She’d been a tomboy when young and looked fit, healthy, and tan. Looking for Lizzy out-of-doors this morning was a natural extension of all that.
It wasn’t long before his assumption proved correct. He heard angry voices as they approached, one recognizable as Lizzy’s. Soon, two people rounded a bend in the trail some distance ahead walking single file. In the lead was Lizzy who kept turning around and gesturing at the man behind her. From their language and expressions, it was clear they’d been going at it for a while.
Jason waited in the path with legs spread and arms crossed. After a moment, Lizzy looked forward and spotted him. She stopped dead in her tracks. Biting her lower lip, she said to her companion, “We’ll finish this later.”
“Darn right we will.” He passed Lizzy and advanced toward Jason.
When the man reached Jason, he strode by without a word. His shoulder brushed Jason’s. The greater height of Lizzy’s companion over Jason was apparent on this flat stretch of trail. With a wind-burned face, full beard, and winter camouflage jacket, his rough demeanor struck the wrong chord in Jason.
“Excuse me,” Jason said, making sure the words dripped with cynicism.
The man never turned his head to look directly at Jason, but with a surly, “Get lost,” he continued down the path.
Although the man’s dark eyes never focused on him, there was something about them that made Jason’s emotional reaction turn physical. The skin on Jason’s chest stretched taut, and his breath grew shallow. It passed as quickly as it came, and he shook it from him like a dog shedding water.
“Nice company you keep,” Jason said to Lizzy. “Who’s your friend?”
“Don’t worry about him. What are you doing here?” she said.
“I want to talk with you.”
“We talked last night.”
“I think we have some new subjects to discuss.”
Worry lines creased her forehead. Finally, she said, “I have to change. I’ve got to be somewhere shortly.”
“This is important. I need your full attention.”
“Fine.” The word was curt, as though cut by a knife. “Let’s go back to the house.”
Lizzy led the way, not worrying about Jason’s ability to keep up. He stayed on her heels until the house came into view. The Escalade was gone, and Lizzy nodded her head in satisfaction. She led him upstairs to her bedroom and began undressing.
“Are you going to listen to me?” Jason asked.
There was a bay window in the bedroom with two chairs nestled within it. Lizzy pointed, and they sat opposite each other, she in a partial state of undress. She’d removed a sweatshirt and had unbuttoned her blouse. Beneath she wore a white sports bra. Even more so than her face, the smooth skin of her stomach was a deep, rich tan. The life of an environmental attorney must be good, Jason thought.
She glanced at her watch. “Ten minutes is all I’ve got.”
“I was abducted.”
“You were what? What do you mean you were abducted?”
“I was abducted last night after you dropped me off. What do you know about that?”
Lizzy was good and almost pulled it off, but the slight spasm at the corner of her eye convinced Jason she knew more than her denial allowed. Her surprise had a false ring.
“Two men attacked me and knocked me out cold. When I came to, I was in some kind of cement block bunker tied to a metal chair. Imagine my shock when on the other side of a big glass window, illuminated like a stage, my daughter, whom I haven’t seen in eight years, appeared. Picture my even greater dismay when my abductors told me that the two children with Marcy were hers, and that
one of the creeps holding me had impregnated her when she was thirteen.”
Lizzy was shaking her head. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”
“Uh-huh. You’re not going to like this but here it is anyway. The problem is that I think you’re complicit in this somehow. The timing was a little too convenient to my taste for it to be otherwise. In fact, I’ve got a tiny bug in my brain that keeps whispering that you may even know something about what happened to HoneyCrest.”
“What are you talking about? That’s foolish. Besides, you hardly know me. What kind of crazy imagination do you have to put me in the middle of all this?” Lizzy flushed with anger. She shook her head, jaw tight. Then her eyes softened as if to imply, The poor man’s had too much sun.
Jason started ticking off on his fingers. “You wanted to tell me something last night, I’m sure of it. Whatever it was, when HoneyCrest blew, you had second thoughts. You dropped me like a sack of concrete when we returned to my parents’ house, and right on the heels of that, I’m accosted. Then you know what I’m told by the human garbage who had me? They want me to compromise an investigation I’m working on.”
Lizzy’s eyebrows raised slightly.
He continued, “Told me to steal the case file plus do whatever my superiors order me. Guess what? I think it has to do with an environmental group. Why? Timing. Where does that take me? If my hunch is correct, right back to HoneyCrest because it’s been the object of environmental wacko ire for years. And that leads me back to you, smack dab in the middle, Ms. Environmental Attorney.”
“Jason…” Her voice was low and soothing. “I can understand the emotional impact of seeing your daughter after all this time under those circumstances. And it must be terribly traumatic to have learned about the children—your grandchildren. You must feel like you’ve been through the worst of a hurricane. But listen to me. What you’ve said is pure speculation. This crazy idea you’ve come up with to put me in the center of this conspiracy theory of yours…it just won’t wash. I have a respectable job with a reputable law firm. Yes, we do some work for environmental groups, but come on. My clients do not go around blowing up buildings. They’re not a bunch of terrorists. As for timing, I wasn’t feeling well after seeing that building destroyed. I needed to get home. You know what I did when I got here? Spent an hour vomiting into the toilet. That’s your timing for you.”
“Maybe you’re not directly involved, Lizzy, but my sense is that whatever it was that kept you from confiding to me last night had to do with that incident on the opposite mountain. And if these are linked, then the request made of me is tied to you. All of a sudden my world has been turned on its head, and I don’t like it.”
His eyes burned as they stared her down, and suddenly exhaustion overcame him. Jason leaned back in his chair, his hands clutching its arms until they turned white. “Not one bit.”
“You’re overwrought by what happened and that’s understandable. Regardless, you’re off base. There’s no connection. You’ve got to believe me.” Lizzy came and knelt beside him and placed soft fingers on his forearm. “What are you going to do about the request these men made?”
Her nearness and partial state of undress disturbed him. Jason stared out the window at the naked forest with its blanket of white. “The blackmail, you mean? They said they’d kill Marcy if I don’t comply, and that they have other plans for the kids. You should have seen the faces on these cretins when they said this. Pure joy. Those men, and the people they represent are evil, Lizzy, pure evil. You’re right, I don’t know you from Eve, but if you’ve got any shred of decency in you, I hope you think long and hard about your association with these creeps.”
She was a study in contrasts. Soft and hard. Sympathetic and indifferent. Jason didn’t know how to get through to her. “Please, Lizzy, help me find my daughter. Help me get Marcy back.” He heard the pleading tone in his voice, and it disgusted him.
Lizzy never blinked. “I can’t help you.”
Jason stood in one swift motion, leaving her kneeling at his feet. “I’d better go. You’ve obviously got better things to do than listen to me.”
He saw the smoothness of her forehead and the rich roots of her dark hair as she tilted her head upward. Her visible cleavage made it difficult to resist a lingering glance. Their eyes met. Hers were opaque, unknowable. “Better watch yourself,” he said, and left her like that.
Chapter 10
Cheshire Cat blog - January 2
Life certainly has its share of twists and turns. One moment your head is in one place concerned about troubles that have plagued you for years, the next you find yourself in extraordinary circumstances beyond your wildest imaginings and positing a hypothesis so outrageous that it’s like a blow to the solar plexus.
Consider if you will, how you would react if your family situation constantly clouded the moral clarity with which you live your life. You have one set of values, and your family has an opposing set, that every time they clash it creates in you a maelstrom of internal conflict. Suppose then that you were in the midst of this scenario and thinking about dropping out and never having to face your family again so as to put all this behind you. What if the next person you spoke with took you to a place where you watched a horrific, gut-wrenching event, then dropped you like a hot potato with no explanation or further words of understanding for the experience you’d just had together, and then—only then—you entered a world crazier than that and all that you’d worked toward over the years came to be in jeopardy because your past became your present and your future?
Confusing? You bet.
Real life? Unfortunately, yes.
You’ll recall one of my last blogs in early December in which I questioned why the authorities couldn’t find the hundreds of children who have disappeared over the years despite newer technology and numerous organizations dedicated to the cause of recovery. It’s a mystery worthy of the great minds of crime literature.
My experiences over the holidays have caused me to think much more on this subject in different ways than I’ve ever conceived. It’s odd how trauma creates schisms in our neural pathways resulting in paradigm shifts. Think about the famous story of Isaac Newton, fact or fable it doesn’t matter, with him sitting under the apple tree. An apple falls and clunks him on the head. Trauma. The theory of gravity is born.
Or how about Copernicus? The accepted theory of the day, championed by Ptolomy some fourteen hundred years earlier, was that the sun revolved around the earth. In present day Hollywood many celebrities view themselves through this same solipsistic prism, so we can easily understand the resistance one might encounter in contesting this premise. But refute it Copernicus did against the awful tide of scientists and heads of state. Talk about trauma. But he persisted against these odds and was eventually proved correct by later discoveries, including that of gravitational principles by none other than Isaac Newton.
One more: Jesus claimed to be the Son of God. Jewish religious authorities crucified Him. How’s that for trauma?
Okay, Smiley, you say, this history is quite fascinating but what does it have to do with missing children? Simply this: Have we, the general public and law enforcement, been seeing with our eyes wide shut? Has the answer been evident before our very noses? Was Jacko who commented last time about black helicopters on the right track? Are perhaps some of those entities entrusted with finding our children responsible for their disappearance? What would this mean if that were the case?
Just asking.
Posted by Smiley at 10:32 PM. - Comments [3]
#1 I don’t know whether to characterize what you’ve suggested as an ideogram originating from the Vast Right Wing Conspiracy or from the Democratic Underground. Either way it’s the most egregious proposal I’ve come across in a long time. Your family trauma must have affected you much more than you’re willing to admit. You’re out of your ever-loving skull. Get a transplant quick!
- Sonny
#2 Thanks, Sonny. I’ll consider
this next time I visit the proctologist. I imagine I’ll be in line right behind you. (Now there’s an ugly thought.)
- Smiley
# 3 If only I knew where I was—believe me, I could show you more than you could stomach. I have so little opportunity, but I’ll keep in touch if I can.
- (no name)
Chapter 11
Cheshire Cat blog - January 3
I intimated in my earlier blog this evening that I had witnessed a terrible event in the last week. You may have already guessed what it was: the destruction of the HoneyCrest Condominium and Ski Resort in North Carolina. Yes, I was there and saw it all.
For a while I considered not commenting on it because it upset me so much, but I owe it to you, my readers, to convey the truth of the matter. Within the last half an hour, late by journalistic standards, a radical environmental group claimed responsibility for the destruction of HoneyCrest. You’d think that in all their pride of devastation they’d make sure their announcement would have hit the news cycle a little earlier if they wanted their derring-do to make it onto the nightly news or break into the morning papers. But they didn’t. They waited until this late hour. Perhaps rather than a claim of responsibility, their statement is one that admits of their guilt.
We already know the explosions at HoneyCrest were deliberately caused. Thirty-seven people perished by jumping to death or by being blown to shreds. Hundreds more escaped but were injured. This isn’t new. It’s been the talk of cable news and the Internet twenty-four hours a day.
Here’s what is new:
The group admitting guilt in this tragedy—that is, claiming credit—is Green Liberation. These guys have no known physical address. You want to contact them? Forget about doing it in person. About the best you can do is knock on their Internet door.
Green Liberation claims to protect the natural earth and all her creatures. The organization is against manmade destruction of the planet. It’s made a sacred vow to fight back against the tide of capitalism and global expansion through whatever means necessary. They’ve proclaimed Gaia as the one true protector of all that’s sacred in and of the earth. You want help in your Earth Day celebrations? The Green Liberation website provides helpful links to treatises on advanced bomb making and safeguarding the rights of animals through the elimination of their imperialist human captors.
Green Dreams Page 4