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The Rings of Hesaurun

Page 38

by Peter Harrett


  All of this combined to drive home the point that Jerry was entirely in the dark about the man with whom he had attached himself. When he returned the clipboard to Mrs. Clark, he felt more than a little bit embarrassed by how little information he could provide. Jerry scolded himself. For months he had been selling himself as an assistant to a man he knew absolutely nothing about.

  The inherent lack of substance related to Stone’s identity, combined with the preceding day’s events, caused him to question every decision he’d made since leaving the Cherry Motel. There was no question that Stone was up to no good, which is why Jerry had followed him to the Santa Ana Avenue underpass. Unquestionably Stone was there to bushwhack Arlene Dunne. Jerry knew it, so why had he been so quick to defend him? He’d even killed for the man. Jerry scolded himself for being so naive.

  Suddenly Jerry felt like a fool. Now it seemed everything he had accomplished for the past five months was done with his eyes wide shut. He was disappointed with himself for allowing it to happen and for being so gullible. Suddenly rather than one finger pointing at Stone, he found four fingers pointed back at himself. Stone hadn’t forced anything on him. Everything he’d done was of his own free will.

  Reluctantly, Jerry handed the clipboard back to Mrs. Clark. At a glance, she exclaimed, “Well, there’s hardly anything here other than his name and address!”

  “I am Mister Stone’s employee, not his mother,” was Jerry’s terse reply. Then he added, “You will have to get the rest of that information from him.” Mrs. Clark blinked incredulously at him as he turned away and left the room without another word.

  Jerry was distraught and had more than enough reason to feel that way. Even though he wasn’t happy with Stone, he cared about him and hoped he would pull through. Having heard nothing more than “Mister Stone is still in surgery” was another thing that had him on edge. He was eager for real news on Stone’s condition but knew he couldn’t expect to hear anything of substance until the surgeons had completed their work.

  The crowded emergency room lobby was filled with people coming, going, and waiting in line at the admittance counter. Only a few unoccupied chairs were left in the room, so he chose one as far away from the madness as possible. Hoping to unwind, he leaned back and closed his eyes in an attempt to shut out the din. But that didn’t last long. The emergency room was too chaotic for him to get any rest.

  The majority of the hubbub was centered around the admissions counter. The sick, injured, and those with appointments waited in line, many none too patiently. A toddler ran in circles until it stumbled, fell, and cried loud enough to wake the dead or anyone trying to relax as Jerry was. Staff members were repeatedly hailed on the scratchy intercom, adding to the chaos. The noise had him on edge.

  Through all that racket, Jerry’s mind turned to the fire he had left burning back at the farm. He would have preferred to stay close enough to tend it, although doing so would be pointless. Fortunately, there was no chance of the fire spreading, with the fields being cultivated for hundreds of yards in every direction.

  Envisioning the charred body at the bottom of the fire pit didn’t help ease Jerry’s mind either. Jerry was beginning to think that haunting image would plague him forever. He was tired, and his brain ached. It felt like the top of his head was being pried open with a can opener. He couldn’t take it any longer, so he decided to bolt. He knew someone at the hospital would call him when they had something real to report on Stone’s condition. So he left the hospital and headed for home.

  As expected, upon his return to the farm, Jerry found the stump fire burning hot and well within safety limits. He knew it would continue burning for days all by itself, so he felt comfortable leaving it unattended. By then, it was early afternoon. He was hungry, so he went inside, intending to get something to eat. But when he entered the kitchen, he found Arlene Dunne’s things lying on the countertop where he’d left them.

  Jerry stared at those things as if in a slow-motion dream. He had an odd feeling about them. As he made himself a sandwich and poured himself a glass of milk, he kept one eye on that little pile of possessions the entire time. He didn’t know why but they seemed to call to him, to be talking to him; he couldn’t take his eyes away. It was an odd feeling he couldn’t describe.

  As Jerry ate he stared vacantly at Arlene’s things, then realized some of the items looked familiar. Particularly the ring and the diary. But how could that be? He couldn’t know. Perhaps it was déjà vu. However, try as Jerry might to reject these wild thoughts, the feeling persisted.

  Lifting the thick wallet, he went through its contents again, this time emptying everything out entirely on the tabletop. As he sorted through it, he categorized everything, ending up with five piles. Then he began methodically laying them out in rows, one by one.

  When he was done he had a neat stack of currency totaling sixty-seven dollars. Beside it sat a row of business cards, a row of pictures, and a row of membership cards. He reserved the last pile for identification cards, including the driver’s license, which he placed at the top of the row. Then, in descending order Jerry laid out the identification cards. Those cards fascinated him.

  Each of the identification cards included picture identification with a variety of stamps and official seals on them. These were a combination of government-issue, university, and other identification cards. All of them characterized Arlene Dunne as someone of significant importance. The final card in this line was the Caltech Physics Department Identification card, which was marked in red with the words LEVEL ONE ACCESS. Jerry studied that one diligently, his brain swirling.

  It wasn’t hard to guess what it added up to. In his estimation, it meant that Arlene Dunne worked with famous people, the likes of Linus Pauling and Albert Einstein. The newspapers and magazines regularly reported on such people. The Physics Department at Caltech was well-known, so he was familiar with the nuclear research done there. If Arlene Dunne worked in that department and with those people, he assumed it meant she was engaged in atomic research.

  After studying the piles for twenty minutes, Jerry was bewildered. His conclusion? Things have just gotten worse for me. Yesterday he shot in the head—a woman with a top-secret clearance. Just this morning, he had burned her dead body in his own backyard. This woman, apparently a key player in the country’s national security community, would not go without being missed for long. He imagined busloads of FBI and Secret Service agents circling the neighborhood at that very moment.

  What a stupid thing to do! Jerry scolded himself. He cradled his head in his hands in dismay, wondering how he had gotten himself into such a mess. All he had intended to do was protect the boss, but it ended up in murder. For all he knew, Arlene Dune was Albert Einstien’s girlfriend! Now he was up to his neck in it, with no way out.

  But then he remembered Stone had intended to bushwhack the woman. Why would Stone do that? he wondered. Jerry doubted government secrets had anything to do with Stone’s actions. There had to be something more. Perhaps he would find the answer in Arlene’s journal. He opened it and began reading and didn’t put it down until he’d read it twice from start to finish.

  Jerry closed the journal, scrutinizing it, turning it over in his hands before laying it down next to the little ring. His eyes move from the book to the ring and back again before settling on the ring. A cheap woman’s ring without any decoration at all. Just dull metal with five foreign letters pressed into its face. It looks like something you win at the county fair for popping all the balloons.

  Actually, the journal is more impressive than the ring, he thought. The paper is unusually crisp, and there’s something odd about the print too. It looks brand new, but no way is it thousands of years old. Who would believe that? I ought to throw it in the trash where it belongs.

  Jerry’s mind kept going back to what he’d just read. The story seems impossible, absolutely absurd—but what if it is true? Aliens? The end of the world? Time travel to save the world? If it is true, and
this Valerie Dunne really did what she says she did, then what? I guess it would change everything then.

  Arlene must have believed it, he realized, or she wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to secure the booklet. These magic rings would also explain what the woman did to Stone. Whatever it was, it blew him across the road like he was shot out of a cannon—minus the cannon!

  And what about Stone? He has one of these rings, and probably one of these books, too. But he sure doesn’t act like he’s worried about aliens—or the end of the world. All he’s concerned with is where his next carton of Lucky Strikes and bottle of scotch is coming from!

  Jerry reached for the ring and held it up to the light. The unassuming little ring was small, a woman’s size, he guessed. He doubted it wouldn’t fit on any finger other than his pinky. He tried it on and found that it slid right on the finger without any trouble, although the fit was somewhat uncomfortable. Next, he tried it on his ring finger. It fit there as well, but again it didn’t feel right. Surely, he reasoned, such a small ring would never go on my much-larger middle finger! But to his surprise, it fit perfectly and felt comfortable as if it belonged there.

  Then out of curiosity, Jerry tried it on his index finger and then his thumb. It fit them as well—however, each time uncomfortably. So Jerry returned the ring to his middle finger and was satisfied with it there.

  Suddenly Jerry’s skin felt prickly. An unfamiliar sensation struck without warning, like a chill biting at his skin. But he wasn’t cold—no, it wasn’t like that, and he could think of no explanation for it. The tingling began with his right hand then rapidly spread throughout the rest of his body. Was he having a stroke? He didn’t think so, but whatever he was experiencing was out of his control.

  As the sensation continued spreading, it felt like a divergence, as if he was being led along a path, not his own. But he didn’t fight it; strangely, it felt good and right and warmed him to the bone. Momentarily the skin of his scalp, upper body, torso, arms, and hands all tingled as if they had fallen asleep. Then as suddenly as it began, it was gone.

  Jerry smiled as he considered what he’d just experienced. Clearly, the story he’d read was preposterous… yet the ring on his finger seemed empowered, just as the diary claimed it to be. He’d witnessed it himself, so there was no doubt about it. The ring had just resized itself to fit each of his fingers! Moreover, the ring had told himto which finger it belonged. Then the ring let him know it was part of him, and he part of it—they were one. There could be no other explanation, and though it defied all logic, Jerry knew it was true.

  The journal and the ring provided enough evidence for Jerry—as crazy as it all sounded, what he’d read about Valerie Dunne was true. No one had to tell him that this ring had just been passed on to another Dunne in a long line of Dunnes. And I’m one of them! he realized. In his mind, there was little chance of any of this being some sort of crazy coincidence.

  Then Jerry realized he was right about something else: he had seen the ring before. Stone wore one just like it and never took it off. Jerry nodded his head at the revelation. After reading the diary, it was all clear to him. If what the journal said was true—and he now assumed it was—there could be only one reason why Stone tried to bushwhack Arlene Dunne. He coveted her ring, the very ring he wore on his hand. Stone planned to steal it from her and add its power to his own, whatever that might be. Probably printing hundred dollar bills, Jerry guessed.

  And what of Arlene Dunne? What did her actions say about her? Was she any better than Stone? In truth, he didn’t know enough to make informed character judgments about either one of them. But it was readily apparent that both Arlene Dunne and Stone were on the same destructive path. Covetousness motivated their actions, which seldom works out for good. The confrontation between the two ring bearers culminated in the only way it could: in their mutual ruin. As Jerry regarded the ring on his finger, he considered the conflict between them a life lesson.

  Utterly mystified, Jerry stared at the journal. He found Valerie Dunne, author of the journal, fascinating. As he studied the ring on his finger, he considered the fact that he, Arlene, and this Valerie Dunne all shared the same surname. And what of Stone? Was he a Dunne as well? Was he of Irish descent? What a coincidence that would be! What if they were all related? Jerry hated to think he had killed a relative, even a distant one. Then it occurred to him that Stone never asked him his surname. Jerry had never offered it, but neither had Stone. Arlene, Stone, and he could all be Irish Dunnes. What an odd chain of events, he thought.

  According to the narrative, each of the Hesaurun Rings possessed a unique individual ability, a force unto its own. When the rings gathered together on the rightful owner, the power of the lot was greatly magnified. This “rightful owner,” Valerie Dunne, would make her reemergence in the twenty-first century, reclaim the rings and use them for their intended purpose; the defense of Earth.

  Although the journal’s story seemed implausible, Jerry knew what he and seen and witnessed. Less than twenty-four hours earlier, he watched as Arlene used her ring against Stone. From his perspective, the ring’s power was formidable. But what sent chills down his spine was the journal’s claim that these rings were gifted to humankind by a benevolent alien named Osomario. The intended purpose was to help Earth defend itself from invading aliens, which could not happen until Valerie Dunne was reunited with all five rings in the twenty-first century. However, the twenty-first century was still a long way off. Jerry wondered if he would live long enough to see it.

  Coincidently, Jerry just happened to know where two of these rings were, although he couldn’t help wondering about the other three. Who had them and where were they? He couldn’t say, but the prospect of finding them was compelling. It was a thrilling story, of which he was now a part. Although the story had him bubbling with enthusiasm, it was also disturbing for a variety of reasons and on multiple levels.

  There was a multitude of questions he’d like to ask, but no one he knew of had answers other than Stone, whom he now considered suspect. Assuming Stone would recover from his injuries, Jerry had no choice other than to consider him a potential enemy. Jerry did not doubt that as soon as Stone was healthy enough, he would come after him seeking Arlene’s ring. Stone went after Arlene, and he would come at him for the very same reason. Stone coveted the power of the ring more than he cared about anyone, including himself. Jerry was convinced Stone would stop at nothing until he got what he wanted.

  Jerry estimated he had a day at the most before Stone recovered enough to wonder what happened to Arlene and her ring. His first thoughts would be about the ring and who possessed it. When that happened, Jerry would need to be ready with answers.

  Or would he? For the first time since leaving the Cherry Motel behind, Jerry began speculating about available options. As he did so, he saw that his future was not dependent on his relationship with Stone. He could be independent if he chose to be. He had enough money saved to start a life of his own or travel the world if he wanted to. But that would be running, wouldn’t it?

  Getting out of town had a certain appeal, but that might not be as clear-cut as it seemed. The authorities could connect his disappearance with Arlene’s. Then there was the subject of what Stone would believe. All Stone would have to do is connect the dots to know that he was betrayed. Stone might even suspect he and Arlene had run off together. The last thing Jerry needed was to have that man after him on a blood vendetta. Spending the rest of his life looking over his shoulder wasn’t what he had in mind for a future.

  The most straightforward solution might be to simply act as if nothing happened, that he knew nothing about Arlene or her ring. Play dumb, then go about his business without the boss ever knowing the difference. After all, how could Stone ever know Arlene was gone. How could Stone ever know that he shot her and disposed of the body— unless he spilled the beans?

  Running away was off the table. But staying didn’t sound so hot, either. With no viable options availa
ble, Jerry felt tempted to walk into the hospital while Stone was still unconscious and relieve him of his ring. Then if he wanted to hit the road, it would be with the benefit of two rings. But he didn’t see that working out. It smacked of the sort of thing Stone might do. And again, taking a hike would lead to living in fear of being followed, or worse, being found, and Jerry had no desire to live like that.

  Killing Stone outright was the only other option that would solve the problem permanently. It shouldn’t be hard if he did it soon. While that was an unsavory option to consider, it was a logical choice. Doing so would give him control of two rings, which couldn’t be a bad thing. It also reduced the likelihood of living in fear of being hunted. But he hated thinking of himself as a murder.

  Walking into a hospital and knocking a guy off—now that’s murder! But most of all, Jerry knew he would not like what it would feel like when it was all done— one murder was more than enough weight on his conscience. However, the murder option clearly had the most plusses to it, which made it the most tempting proposition he had considered that day.

  By the time Jerry looked up at the wall clock, he was shocked to see that it was nearly four o’clock. The day had flown by. Surely the surgeons had finished their work and could tell him whether or not Stone was likely to pull through. It was time to head back to the hospital to find out what they had to say. Jerry was eager to assess Stone’s condition for himself. But before leaving the house, he reloaded the Government .45 and tucked it into his belt.

  Chapter 14

  Ammon. August 2422 BCE. few months after the trial for the murder of

 

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