by Jim Moens
“Can I help you?” Dale said, even though he knew just who it was and just what she wanted.
“We were looking for Karen,” Nina said. “I was hoping to see her today. We, in fact, had an appointment.”
“I'm afraid Karen is busy right now,” Dale said. “Can I tell her who came by?”
“I'm Nina,” she said, “these are my boys, Albert and Alex.”
Each of the twins nodded to Dale in turn.
“Well Nina, I'm afraid Karen doesn't require your services anymore.”
“I see,” Nina said. She looked at Albert then at Alex. “We're very sorry to hear that.”
“I imagine you are,” Dale said. For no discernable reason, he began to feel a chill in his spine.
Frankie trotted up behind Dale. “Hi, lady.”
A broad smile spread across Nina's face as she saw Frankie. “Well, hello, young lady.”
“I remember you from the other night at my dad's house.” Frankie looked at Alex, then at Albert. “Hey... you guys are tall.”
“These are my sons,” Nina said. “They're twins.”
“Cool.”
“Young lady,” Nina said, leaning down closer to Frankie, “would you tell your Grandma--”
“She's not going to tell her anything,” Dale interrupted. “And I think it's time for you to leave.”
Albert glanced at Frankie, then over to Dale, who quickly stepped in front of his granddaughter.
“Let's go, boys,” Nina said. Then to Dale, “Goodbye, sir.”
The three of them turned and walked away. Dale quickly shut the door and locked it.
“Those guys were weird, Grandpa,” Frankie said as they headed back into the living room.
“Yes they were, Frankie,” Dale said. “Yes they were.”
Satisfied that Nick was able to finish the price changes, Doug punched out for the day. He cut a wide swath around Brian's office and was pleased that he successfully avoided him. He turned his phone back on and noticed that he had four missed calls from an unfamiliar number and two voicemails. He punched in his password and listened.
“Doug,” he heard, “this is Gabe Murphy, Bill's brother. Can you give me a call back as soon as you can?”
Doug arrived at the hospital not fifteen minutes later. He had already called his parent's house and suggested they start dinner without him. He had no idea how long he would be. Doug met with Gabe in a waiting room on the third floor. It had been upwards of five years since he had seen Gabe, but the man hadn't changed a bit... tall and stocky, with long blond hair and a beard. He hardly resembled Bill at all, except perhaps for the number of tattoos they both had.
“He had his first treatment today,” Gabe said. “Doctors said the radiation triggered a stroke.”
Doug shook his head. “Jesus...” he muttered.
“They're not sure how successful the treatment was, either.”
“So... what now?” Doug said.
“He has another treatment scheduled for next week. I guess the doctors are talking about what they're going to do for sure.”
“Well, I'm glad you called,” Doug said.
“Bill... he... he left me this note,” Gabe began, “He wrote it last night. It was all this stuff to do if, you know, something went wrong. It mentioned I should get in touch with you. Said you were a good friend.”
Words escaped Doug, so he merely nodded.
“You can go in and see him if you want,” Gabe said. “He's probably still conscious.”
Bill was, indeed, conscious. He somehow looked even smaller, which was tough to see. He didn't move, but his eyes tracked Doug as he entered the room.
“Hey buddy,” Doug said. “I talked to your brother. He told me what the deal is.”
Doug paused and glanced out the window. He could see the orange and purple of a glorious sunset.
“Work sucks even a little more than usual, so you're not missing much there. That Brian guy continues to be a complete psychopath. Lenny is running the stock room for you. It takes forever to get anything from back there and it's a total mess.” Doug paused. “I, uh... I met a really cool girl. Hard to believe, I know. And get this... I started writing a book. This Rebecca I'm seeing suggested it. It's some of these hero stories I tell Frankie. I guess a woman can get me to do about anything, huh? Anyway, we'll see how it goes.”
Silence. Doug looked around the room. The TV was on, tuned to a rerun of “The Nanny”.
“Sorry, buddy. I guess I don't know what to say or what to do,” Doug continued. “I told you I got your back, right?”
“I was going to bring him some DVDs,” Gabe said.
Doug turned, not realizing Gabe had entered the room.
“Yeah,” Doug said, “I can grab some for him too.” He turned back to Bill. “I'm going to go chat with your brother for a minute. Be right back, okay?”
No response would be forthcoming, so Doug followed Gabe out into the hall.
“I'll be here everyday,” Gabe said, “as long as it takes.”
“Good man,” Doug said, “but I thought you guys weren't on speaking terms.”
Gabe crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Water under the bridge. In the end, he's my brother. He's all I got. And I think I'm all he's got.”
Doug leaned back against the wall. “I'll be here whenever I can, okay?”
Gabe extended his hand and the two men shook.
Karen heated up some dinner when Doug arrived to pick up Frankie. She had made a Chicken Alfredo that, while it smelled delicious, Doug barely touched it. Frankie's homework was complete by the time Doug arrived, so the only thing on their agenda once they got home was a Spider-Man DVD, a shower, and then bed.
Doug went right to his laptop once Frankie fell asleep, fully intending to write more of the adventures of Xen the Warrior. He remembered the prior night’s promise to write some Xen stories together. He sighed.
Nothing.
Not a word. Not a syllable. Nothing. He was simply too mentally and physically exhausted. He toyed with the idea of logging into QuestWorld for a little while, but even that prospect didn't seem pleasing. There was an email from Laurel in Oregon. “Hey you... how's it going?” was all it said. Doug answered as succinctly as possible without seeming rude... “Busy with work. You know how it goes.”
Time for bed.
Doug woke up on the steps of the Empress' castle, to a dragon pup licking his face. He rolled away and sat up. The dragon pup stepped forward towards Doug. It wanted to play.
“Shoo,” Doug said, waving the baby dragon away and cautiously backing off. The dragon, which Doug guessed to be only days old by its tiny nubs of wings, was still the size of an African lion, with the teeth and claws to match.
An aging Cleric, bent over in his maroon robes, shuffled on by. “Be cautious,” the Cleric said in his deep voice. “A small beast is still a beast.”
“Thank you,” Doug said, wishing for a staff or a pole or something to keep the beast at bay. “Good little dragon,” he said. “Be a good dragon and... go away or something.”
The dragon pup kept moving forward. Doug kept backing away. He noticed a crowd had gathered and was suddenly acutely aware that he wasn't clad in full armor or even chain mail, but rather sweatpants and a Linkin Park t-shirt. This likely accounted for the fact that many in the crowd were pointing at him and looking on curiously.
Dragon pup suddenly stopped in its tracks. It bared a row of sharp, gleaming white teeth. It emitted a guttural sound, like a low growl. Its back arched. The crowd circle widened as humans, trolls and dwarves alike began backing away. Doug couldn't tell from their shouts if they were rooting for him or the dragon.
“Uh-oh,” Doug said under his breath.
Dragon pup vaulted forward, as if shot from a sling, right at Doug. Doug dropped to the ground, and the baby dragon sailed overhead, crashing into a wooden cart carrying a rainbow of exotic fruit. The pup grunted, shook off some fruit pieces and faced Doug. Doug looked to the crowd for h
elp, for a weapon... for something.
The dragon pup ran right for Doug. He thought his only alternative was to leap above as it charged him, but it suddenly stopped dead in its tracks, just a couple feet from Doug. A length of chain was suddenly wrapped around its neck, pulling it back. A figure in some very familiar sleek warrior armor emerged from the crowd, holding the other end of the chain.
“Thank you,” Doug said. He thought for a second. “Kala-Ru?”
“The one and only,” the figure said, pulling back on the chain.
Doug stepped back to wonder if the dragon pup had yet to fully develop its fire-breathing glands, only to be shook by an ear-piercing shriek from above.
Kala-Ru looked up. “Oh, shit... it's mama bear.”
They were quickly covered by the shadow of a fully grown dragon. A very angry fully grown dragon that was as big as a house. The crowd scattered and everyone headed for cover.
Kala-Ru dropped the chain and gestured for Doug. “Let's go!”
The two of them sprinted up the steps of the castle.
“This way!” Kala-Ru shouted, and they veered to the right. Doug glanced up as the adult dragon flapped its enormous wings and reared its head back.
“It's about to breathe fire on us!” Doug cried.
“I'm counting on it!” Kala-Ru shouted back. She stood in front of the entry door to the castle. “C'mon!” she said, gesturing to the dragon.
The dragon let out another shriek, followed by a torrent of yellow and blue flame. Kala-Ru barely leaped out of the way, as the fire struck the entry door and blew it inside the castle.
“Good plan,” Doug said, and the two of them leaped inside through the flames. They ran through the deserted throne room until they reached a wooden door, hidden in the shadows behind the throne. Kala-Ru tried to push it open, but to no avail. They heard the dragon behind them, screeching in frustration.
“Allow me,” Doug said. He lashed out with a sidekick and the door flew open. “I figured I had to make some contribution.”
“Safe for the moment,” Kala-Ru said, “but we have to keep an eye out for the palace guards.”
Kala-Ru slowly slid off her helmet, revealing Laurel. Doug recognized her from the pictures they had exchanged.
“I'm surprised to see you here,” she said.
“You and me both,” Doug said, still catching his breath.
“I was just about to log off and I saw you and the dragon pup. So how is it exactly that you're here in sweats and a t-shirt?”
“I'm dreaming,” Doug said. “I didn't even log in tonight. I'm asleep right now.”
“Are you being obtuse on purpose?” Laurel replied.
“I'm not kidding. I don't know how to prove--”
Doug was interrupted by distant shouts.
“Let's go!” Laurel said and looked about. “This way!”
The two of them headed down a dark, stone corridor, lit only by the occasional torch on the wall.
“Where are we going?” Doug said.
“This is a way out,” Laurel replied. “It leads to a door on the other side of the castle. Not many know about it.”
They finally reached the door. Laurel was able to open it with ease.
“See?” she said. “Right out, uh... what the hell?”
Doug stepped forward. The door didn't lead outside of the castle. It led to his own backyard.
Laurel stepped through the doorway. “Where are we?” she said.
“This my house, Laurel.”
Laurel looked at Doug, then around his yard. “Nuh-uh.”
“I'm afraid it is,” Doug said. “I don't understand this either.”
“Well... I always wanted to come visit you in Illinois.”
Doug found himself chuckling. “Maybe you need to get back,” he said.
Laurel nodded, then looked at Doug and smiled. “One last thing, though...” she said. She took his face in his both hands and gave him a long, lingering kiss.
“That wasn't what I expected,” she said as she pulled back.
“I, uh... there's... well...” Doug stammered.
“You met somebody didn't you?”
Doug nodded.
“Is she smart and beautiful and nice?” Laurel said, her eyes brimming with tears.
“All of the above and then some,” Doug said.
“She better be,” Laurel said. She smiled and embraced Doug. “I'm happy for you. I guess.”
“Thanks,” Doug said. “You know, this is the first time I've ever hugged somebody in warrior armor.”
Laurel giggled. “Stop being so awesome, alright?”
“I'll try.”
Laurel stepped through the doorway and turned to wave at Doug.
“I'll see you around the castle,” Doug said.
“Yep, I'll see you--”
Suddenly the sharp end of a sword was sticking through her shoulder.
“Doug?” she managed to gasp out.
Damon appeared from out of the shadows. He pulled the sword out from Laurel's shoulder and she fell to her knees.
“Good night, Doug,” Damon said as he slammed the door shut.
“Laurel!” Doug rushed forward and tried the door. Locked, somehow. He kicked it open, and stepped forward. He stood in the darkened interior of his own garage.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
1951
Helen, of course, took the lead in planning the wedding. She called the minister and booked The First Lutheran Church the day Dennis and Ayala's engagement was made public. Helen also reserved the large reception hall just adjacent to the church. She got an excellent rate, having reminded the minister that the Schmidt family had partially financed its construction.
There were a myriad of other matters to attend to... catering (nothing less than steaks for all), music (a swing band from three towns away that played virtually every wedding reception of note in the county) and flowers. Lots and lots of flowers.
Dennis started his full-time work at Schmidt Brothers Quarry. He worked closely with his father, learning every aspect of the business. One day it might be bookkeeping. The next, Dennis would supervise the laborers. Many of them required constant prodding in order to be productive, but that was never the case with Andrei Cristescu. He was easily the best worker at the quarry. There were those who resented Andrei, but Dennis quickly grew to admire his soon to be father-in-law. His work ethic was above reproach and he was obviously a loving husband as well as a doting father to his three girls. Andrei would sometimes join Dennis and David for lunch, sharing stories of his homeland.
Dennis was with Ayala virtually every non-working waking moment. They would most frequently converge on the Schmidt household, where Helen would provide everyone with detailed updates on the wedding plans. David joked at one point, given Helen's razor-sharp organizational skills, perhaps she should be the one in charge of the quarry. No one disagreed.
Dennis' favorite evenings were those spent at the Cristescu home. The family had recently secured (with David Schmidt's help) a small bungalow near the north end of town. The Cristescu family immediately set about making it theirs and soon invited the Schmidt clan over for a post-church Sunday dinner of indigenous Romanian food... Sarmale, a minced beef dish with rice, wrapped in pickled cabbage leaves; along with a side of Snitel de Ciuperci, a mushroom fritter that David simply couldn't stop eating. Camelia and her daughters even prepared Amandine for dessert, a chocolate cake filled with chocolate and almonds, topped with, of course, more chocolate. Helen begged Camelia for the recipes and Camelia agreed to provide them. She did indicate that would have to get them down on paper first, as they were unwritten, having all been learned as a young girl in Romania tugging at her mother's apron strings.
Dennis and Ayala slipped away from the post-dinner wedding discussion. They sat on the front stoop, enjoying the cooling dusk air. Dennis cradled Ayala's hand in his. She rested her head on his shoulder.
“What's wrong with Adela?” Dennis finally said, addressing
what they had both been thinking. “She didn't say a word during dinner. Is it Chuck?”
Ayala sighed. “No, it's not your friend Chuck.”
“Then what...”
As if on cue, Adela stepped onto the porch.
“Oh, I'm sorry,” she said upon seeing Dennis and Ayala. “I can--”
“No,” Ayala said, her voice gentle. “We want to talk to you.”
“About the wedding?”
“No,” Dennis said, “about you. Is something wrong?”
Adela sighed and folded her arms across her chest.
“You should tell him,” Ayala said, then lowered her voice to almost a whisper. “Maybe you should just tell him.”
“It's...” Adela started to say, then shook her head.
“Is it me?” Dennis said.
“It's your uncle,” Ayala said.
“My uncle? Dean?”
Adela nodded.
Dennis looked at Ayala questioningly, then up to Adela.
“He's been following her all over town,” Ayala said. “We didn't want to say anything at first. We didn't want to cause trouble.”
“It's been every day,” Adela said.
Dennis realized he hadn't seen his uncle at the quarry for most of the week, but he presumed those absences were more a function of another one of Dean's benders.
“At first I thought it was by chance,” Adela said, her voice quiet, “but it's been every single day.”
“Did you tell your dad?” Dennis said.
Ayala chuckled. “Papa would break him in two,” she said.
Dennis nodded. Just one of Andrei Cristescu's biceps probably had more muscle than Dean's entire body.
“I'll take care of this,” Dennis said, surprising even himself. “I'll talk to him.”
“Are you sure?” Ayala said.
“I'm sure,” Dennis replied and lightly kissed Ayala on the forehead. “Your dad would be fired if he went after Dean. I won't be. I'll take care of it.”
“Thank you, Dennis,” Adela said.
Ayala gave Dennis' hand a squeeze. “My hero,” she said, and gave him a peck on the lips.